Madness (4 page)

The six members of the
Jame’e-ye Rowhaniyat-e Mobarez
, Combatant Clergy Association of Iran gathered to consider Russia’s intentions. They reclined to eat in an off-white color, drab room. From the ceiling hung a large decorative twelve-armed crystal lamp, one arm for each of the Twelve Imams of their faith.

As all good Shia clergy, they each wore a
black turban and a black sleeveless aba open in the front. Save for one, whose turban and aba was white, and he headed the gathering. After the appropriate greetings, their leader, Grandayatollah Dariush Vahid al-Sistani, rose to speak.

“Our world boasts many Great Satans,” he said in a strong, steady voice. “And one is stomping his feet on the s
oil of Turkmenistan. We sat still when the Russians made war against our brothers in Afghanistan, believing the Russians to be our friends. But, no more do we believe this. Only our oil causes them to occasionally smile our way. So we are right to attack them as they attack our Muslim brothers, the Turkmen.”

A member of long standing rose and
al-Sistani yielded the floor. “While our economy suffers under the World Financial Community’s manipulation, our Russian neighbor strengthens his hand. He strikes at Turkmenistan, and we must come to the aid of our friends. Their recent vote to become an Islamic Republic demands our support, Sunni’s or not.”

“I asked myself in Allah’s name. Why would Russian President Latovsky wish to incite a war?”
al-Sistani said. “My answer came lightning fast. Arthur Pendleton demanded that the Russians attack us. The Turkmen’s gas deposits in the hands of Russia cuts deeply into our energy supply.”

A cry went up. “What if we, and not the Turkmen, are Latovsky’s target?”

“Better to fight him on the Turkmen’s soil, and not ours,” al-Sistani
said. “God is great. Russia comes anyway. Hit Russia hard.”

Heads bowed and many offered up prayers.

“I will call General Jafarzadeh
and develop a plan of attack if Russia places one boot on Iranian soil,” al-Sistani said. “But pray we stop his forces while still in Turkmenistan.”

He and his comrades then reclined for dinner. The smell of onion and garlic filled the air, various fruits and vegetables, pomegranates and bananas, lamb cooked in milk
displayed at table. The women serving them catered to every request, wiping the crumbs up as they fell. Bringing in course after course, they served their masters with reverence.

al-Sistani pondered his dilemma. Russia was coming. Those in this room would soon be engaged in a war of inconceivable horror. All
this would happen because Arthur Pendleton desired to rule the world.

“Leave our enemies in Allah’s hand,” al-Sistani said, “and enjoy the gifts He bestows.”

#

In the
week following his time with Laverna, Pendleton watched with growing concern the escalation of the fighting in Turkmenistan. The Russians were a far superior force, working under a less than capable leader. As he pondered this dilemma, Pendleton received a call from Milton Rogers. Rogers, the man responsible for setting the foundation for Pendleton’s government over a decade earlier, remained his closest confidant to date.

“You’re second on my agenda, Milton,” Pendleton said. “Doctor Levi and I have a meeting at noon about Lovey’s condition.”

“The Iranian situation has spooked our core supporters. What should I tell them?”

“
Tell them I’ve already solved the problem with Latovsky. His blunder isn’t fatal to our plans, only to him. They should keep their eyes on the goal. Will you do that, Old Chap?”

Rogers grunted an, “Of course I will.” Then he added. “
One day you’ll let me in on your reasoning beforehand.”

“I’ll try. Right now I have t
oo much going on to remember.”

Pendleton hung up and sat in the dark. At eleven o’clock in the morning with the shades drawn, only the luminous hands on his desk clock gave any light. He’d warned the Russian President to hold off gathering his forces. But idiots are idiots. The only real harm done was to swat the wasps’ nest before spraying it.
The wasp would sting Russia, but the wasps would die.

His spirit d
arkened in the gloom. Not that he worried about whether he’d reach his goal, but rather that once things were set in motion, he couldn’t control every detail. No one on his staff could predict Pendleton’s moods, even after a decade of working for him. Only Laverna, when she
was
Laverna, understood him. She knew exactly why and when he needed to be reassured. Now he needed her, but couldn’t reach her. The woman he’d spend a day with wasn’t his Lovey, yet he could see glimpses of her and that was encouraging.

The next two months would determine the fate of the world. He had to focus on business, not emotions. What he was about to do would cost the lives of millions—necessary, but depressing
. He reminded himself of the bigger picture. The planet would die if he didn’t act. No human life could exist on the face of a barren, scorched earth. He hadn’t caused those conditions, but he and his team of experts could stop them from becoming worse and eventually turn them around.

The human race would never fulfill its potential, only its destruction if he didn’t act. Eliminating money was essential. Human beings collectively working for purposeful goals could accomplish amazing feats. Putting an end to competition would save the human race. First
, he had to put an end to greed, wars, and religious fanaticism. No form of government thus far proved ideal. Greed, power struggles, and mass dissatisfaction destroyed them all. Only an enlightened despot with worldwide power could save the planet.

His meeting in Zurich was a recheck of his team’s preparation. Immediate food distribution and his appeal to the world to join him peacefully were the two major keys to
a transition to a one-world government. He needed to deal with these issues, but not until Doctor Levi eased his mind about his wife’s condition.

At precisely noon, his secretary announced the arrival of Doctor Rueben Levi. Pendleton switched on the lights and waved Levi in.

“Did you hear the news about another Iranian missile attack?” Levi asked as he shook Pendleton’s hand. “Non-nuclear but they stirred up trouble. Russian forces have crossed the border into Iran.”

“Yes, I heard. The United Nations is meeting as we speak. They will support Russia. But right now, I want to concentrate on my wife.”

“May I see the notes? Our communications device can’t read.” He smiled, but Pendleton ignored the attempt at humor. He handed Levi the slips of paper on which both had written their notes.

“Well, clearly the key piece of information was provided when she named Kolb,” Levi said. “
Kolb was the key player in the brainwave military helmet development used in Iraq and Afghanistan. She’s truly a Frankenstein. What did the implant site look like?”

“Hardly noticeable—a crosshatched scar behind her right earlobe—maybe an inch long and a
quarter-inch wide. The implant’s hidden by her hair.”

“Here is the good news.” Levi sat down at Pendleton’s coffee table
. “Your wife communicated to you, asking for help. Kolb’s good, but the science isn’t one hundred percent. Your wife knows she’s being manipulated, but she can’t hold on to her thoughts long enough to free herself. That she knows at all is most encouraging.”

Pendleton sat across from him.
“What about during sex? She made love like a wild woman, and yet, off-the-cliff so to speak.”

“My guess is they couldn’t control her coming down.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They stimulated that part of the brain that creates orgasms and couldn’t reduce her response on cue. Too much of a great thing causes pain.”

“Can you help her?”

Levi’s chest heaved. “There’s no way to know. Hercules
has to be concerned. This meeting with you was a test. Your wife failed miserably. Thankfully, they have no idea about the notes.”

“How did she fail?”

“She recalled saving your life. They tried to erase you yet keep the aggressive memories intact. Impossible. That combined with their inability to retard her sexual response says she’s eventually going to become uncontrollable.”

“Is that good news?”

“Actually no, they’ll lose control of her. She’ll lose control of herself. She’ll be a highly trained assassin, living as an id with no basic control over her actions.   

“What would you do if you had her confined and available to you?”

“If we can remove the implant, we relieve the sensory stimulation problems. We will shut down the device and wait and see. If we leave the implant intact, eventually the insanity will be irreversible.” Levi shook his head. “To attempt to shut down the device without removing it invites problems. The implant itself will have a sensory backup. How long that backup continues working is an unknown. But if she loses the signal from the main control and runs on the backup sensor, she’ll become totally insane, yet cunning.”

“How long?”

“If nothing’s done,” Levi said. “She could function well for three to four days after shutdown. During that time, her actions will become more unpredictable. As her mind deteriorates, her emotional swings will increase.”

“Good God, man, can her mind be restored?”

“Arthur, you’re talking about a science that’s still in its infancy. I’ll do the best I can do. All you have to do is get her to a clinic before all the nasty stuff we’ve talked about occurs.”

#

Kolb reviewed the data obtained after Pendleton’s visit with Peacock in the lab for a week. The more intensely she studied, the more irritated she became. Her face reddened, and she screamed at no one in particular. “What the hell happened?”

“Sex is the strongest urge in the body,” Doctor Nyugen answered matter-of-factly, leaning up against Kolb’s desk. “Her id fought the signal to disconnect from the physical pleasure center, until the pain overrode the pleasure.”

“But she reacted to the child’s photos.” Kolb stomped her foot, not buying into Nyugen simplistic argument.

“She attached emotionally, albeit briefly, to her child and to Pendleton. That’s all.”

“She told Pendleton my name. None of these things were supposed to happen.” Kolb swept her hand across her desktop sending papers flying. “Give me answers, people. None of those actions were supposed to happen—ever.”

Polaris, who had spent over two years directly communicating with Peacock through her implant, swung his wheelchair away from the conference room windows. “A person with average mental abilities
who is easily manipulated could have been controlled. However, you’re dealing with Peacock’s brain. She’s Mensa level. Ursa selected her for that reason.”

The finest agent ever before his injury, Polaris pointed a finger at Kolb. “If an enemy had captured Peacock and attempted what you’ve done to her, she would have destroyed them before they laid a hand on her. We’re supposed to be the good guys. She trusted us. But our technology is turning out to be flawed, not even ninety percent certain with someone the caliber of Peacock.”

“My technology,” Kolb spit out. “Remember your place.”

“My place is with Ursa. I’m loaned to you. I’m not one of your techies.”

“Quit bitching, Bea,” a male voice interrupted.

Beatrice Kolb turned toward the doorway to see the masked face of Major, the head of Hercules, his deep brown eyes peering at her through the holes in his mask. Even though she’d seen him naked, no one had seen his face
since she knew him. He ran
all
sections of Hercules. Second only to the president, even Ursa deferred to him. She had to defer to him as well.

“I’m satisfied with
last week’s performance,” Major said. “She gave away no major secrets. Your achievement with Peacock, Laverna, or Donna O’Conner—whomever you want to call her—is exemplary.”

“
Thank you,” she said, holding in her anger. If Peacock snapped, all of Kolb’s work would be in question. The name Beatrice Kolb would become synonymous with disgrace. Maybe she’d make adjustments on the technical side. No, adjustments meant recalling Peacock from the field. She would be back on the operating table, and Major wouldn’t let that happen.

“As for you, Polaris,” Major said. “When you’re working with Peacock, you’re working for Doctor Kolb. And Doctor Kolb works for me, not Ursa.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Kolb held back the sneer
with which she wanted to stab Polaris. She needed him. He understood how to read Peacock and adjust her brainwaves accordingly. Maybe she could use Polaris to bring Peacock onboard by appealing to logic—oh, and by being nice. Kolb knew herself too well.

Nice isn’t the best word to describe me.

#

Serge Latovsky perched in front of a large screen in a briefing room inside the Kremlin, while his Minist
er of Defense, General Pavel Sakharov, interpreted the field information.

“The enemy’s forces are in full retreat,” Sakharov said. “We’ve taken Azkaban and Sedar. The enemy ran when we drove west of the mountains toward the Caspian Sea. In another
day that force will be on Iranian soil as well. The Iranians are determined, but they’re confused and ill equipped.”