The Cain Conspiracy (3 page)

“Great. Thanks, Doc.”

“What’s the Epideptriol?” Lawson asked.

“It’s an experimental drug. It’s designed to attack the part of the brain that controls your memory and kill the tissue,” Sanders explained.

“He’ll never regain his memory, will he?”

“Not if we can help it. It’s in his best interest that he doesn’t.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t you want him to get his memory back?”

“Without going into too many details there are things in his past that would be better for him if he doesn’t remember.”

“I see.”

“So you must not ever tell him, even if he asks. That’s a direct order,” Sanders told her.

“How often will the drug be administered?”

“Once a week to start with when possible. Hopefully down the road we won‘t need it as much, if at all.”

Sanders noticed a solemn expression on Lawson’s face.

“Don’t go getting soft on me now,” Sanders said.

“It just seems a shame for a person to go through life without remembering a thing about your past, who you are.”

“Maybe it is. But it’s what helps keep us in business,” Sanders continued. “Let’s get back in there and see what he has to say.”

It was hard for the government officials to not see the dejection on Nelson’s face as they approached his bed. They pulled up a couple of chairs and sat by his side. Nelson was fiddling with his fingernails, trying hard not to look at his visitors. It was embarrassing to not remember a thing about who he was. Sanders and Lawson quietly waited for the fallen soldier to acknowledge their presence. They could see how tough it was for him and didn’t want to press him needlessly. A grimace rolled over Nelson’s face as he stared down at the covers on his bed. He finally looked up at the pair sitting next to him, water filling up his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotions.

“I’ve been trying to remember anything…a name, a face, just something that might trigger the rest of my memory,” Nelson began, wiping his eyes. “But I just can’t.”

“Sometimes it just takes time for a person’s memory to come back to them,” Lawson explained. “Even the simplest thing could bring it back. It could happen right out of the blue.”

“She’s right,” Sanders jumped in. “The key thing to remember is you don’t have to fight this battle alone. We’re here to help you. We can help get your life back together.”

“Why? What’s in it for you?” Nelson asked.

“The chance to add an experienced soldier to our staff. There’s no question in our minds that your fighting skills could be a great weapon in our arsenal. We think you’d be a valuable piece of our organization,” Sanders told him.

“What part of the government are you with?”

“Well, that’s something we really can’t divulge to anyone who’s not actively involved with us.”

“What if I say no?”

“You’re within your right to do so, though we don’t see any valid reason why you would want to.”

“Maybe I just wanna go home and be with my family.”

“Home? Where is that? Can you tell us?” Sanders asked with a sarcastic edge.

Nelson looked away from the pair, angry that he couldn’t answer the question.

“I’m sure my family could help get me through it,” Nelson said.

“I’m sure they could if you had any,” Sanders replied.

“What?”

“Your family could help you if you had any,” Sanders repeated, looking at Lawson. “Unfortunately, you don’t have any.”

“I don’t have any family?” Nelson dejectedly responded.

“See for yourself,” Sanders said, handing Nelson his file. “From Seattle, Washington, you were the only child born to your parents who died in a car accident two weeks after you graduated high school. It was their deaths that led you to join the military. Alone and nowhere else to go, ten years ago you enlisted.”

“No aunts or uncles?”

“One aunt who died from cancer when you were a child, and one uncle, who became a drunk and a petty thief who moved out to California never to be heard from again.”

Nelson eagerly read the file, his eyes not moving fast enough for his brain to process the information contained in it. He reread the same passages over and over again, hoping some of it would change by the next time he read it. Sanders and Lawson gave Nelson all the time he needed to read and digest the file, watching his facial expressions as he ate it up. They knew it was something he needed to see to be able to move on with his situation. After half an hour of trying to unfold everything in his mind he finally put the folder down. He looked as confused and aggravated as before.

“Nothing seems familiar,” Nelson stated. “Everything is as blank as it was.”

“It’s something to start with,” Lawson responded.

“About our job offer,” Sanders said. “What do you say?”

“You haven’t told me anything about it yet. For all I know I’d be tending sheep.”

“Not likely. Slaughtering them maybe.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything until you tell me specifics,” Nelson said. “You say everything’s top secret? I understand that means you avoid saying too much. But unless you get specific I’m not doing anything.”

Sanders looked at Lawson, wondering how much he should tell. She nodded as if to spur him on. Within a minute he started to explain the details of the job offer.

“Without giving away our cover, we work for an ultra secret agency that targets people who are a threat to the United States,” Sanders said.

“You mean terrorists.”

“Not necessarily. Could be terrorists, world leaders, dictators, people in position of power, rebels, perpetrators of major crime, criminal organizations, or anyone that poses a threat or could do so in the near future. It casts a wide net. We‘re not pigeonholed into any one area. If we believe you‘re a threat to the United States, either financially, politically, or physically, then we‘re coming after you.”

“And you neutralize the threat?” Nelson asked.

“We eliminate the threat,” Sanders succinctly replied.

“You’re a kill squad?”

“That’s a very narrow way of looking at it, Mr. Nelson. We’re not just a kill squad as you put it. Much like the CIA, we assemble mountains of information that may prove valuable to protecting our country.”

“You’re basically a black ops organization?”

“If that helps you to understand in it’s most basic form…yes.”

Sanders could see Nelson was thinking about the offer but didn’t appear to be fully convinced yet.

“We do not pay people to kill. I can get anybody to do that. I can train a monkey to do that if I wanted to. Any target that’s eliminated must be done in a way that completely exonerates the United States. The government does not officially condone or approve of these actions and cannot be implicated in any manner. If it’s discovered we’re behind some of these missions it’d be one of the worst scandals in this country’s history. Even bigger than Watergate.”

“Watergate? What’s that?” Nelson asked.

“Google it sometime. To get back on point, you don’t get paid to kill. You get paid to be invisible. You get paid to scope out a target, infiltrate that target’s territory, eliminate said target, do it without your presence being noticed or compromised, and without any involvement suspected of the United States. To take it even further, your life as it stands right now will be gone. You cannot be arrested, put in jail, appear in traffic court, criminal court, divorce court, or any court. Your picture cannot appear in any newspaper. Your name won’t return any information in a computer, and your fingerprint won’t come up in any database. To put it bluntly, you…do not exist.”

“Why you hung up on getting me? I’m sure you could get a thousand other guys to do the same work.”

“You’re a highly trained soldier, part of Team Delta. In addition, you’ve sustained an injury that we can easily portray into your implied death. You also have nobody back home that would miss you or poke around into your disappearance,” Sanders continued.

“My implied death?”

“As I said, once you begin working for us, you do not exist. You’re officially dead. That means after you leave this room Thomas Nelson ceases to exist. He died on the operating table.”

“How much time do I have to think about it?” Nelson asked.

“Oh, about ten minutes,” Sanders replied, looking down at his watch.

Nelson looked up at the man standing next to his bed, wondering how he could expect him to make a life altering decision so quickly. He sat in silence, his face showing no expression, staring at Sanders. A numb feeling overtook his body. He slowly shifted his gaze over to Lawson, his face still void of life, taking it all in. He sat there digesting the information he’d just been given. Was it the life he wanted? To be a soul-less, ruthless killer that had no past and didn’t even exist? He thought about how changing his name would affect him, but considering he couldn’t remember anything anyway, it really was of no consequence what anyone called him. After a few minutes of thought he shook his head in acknowledgment, reluctantly accepting the offer, knowing he really didn’t have many other options. At least with them he’d be a part of something. A group he could rely on and help him fill in any missing pieces, or questions he’d have. If he declined and went on his own, he had no family, and no one to turn to. That was an even scarier proposition for someone who couldn’t remember anything.

“Well, I can’t even express how happy I am right now,” Sanders stated. “Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry about changing the name but it has to be done.”

“It’s OK. I can’t remember anything so it’s not doing me much good anyway,” Nelson stated.

“I can understand.”

“So what’s my new name?”

“Matthew Cain.”

Chapter 2

Two weeks later—Sanders and his entourage of officials boarded the jet, bound for New York. Cain slipped into a seat against the window, staring at the landscape below as the ground became a blip on the radar.

“So how’d you come up with Matthew Cain?” Cain asked.

“We give new agents new identities once they start working with us. So we name them after people in the biggest organization ever created,” Sanders replied.

“Who’s that?”

“The Bible.”

“So who do you name them after?”

“Killers. Seemed more fitting.”

“So who am I named after?”

“Cain. He murdered his brother Abel and was the world’s first murderer,” Sanders informed him.

“That’s comforting. So where am I gonna live when we get there?” Cain wondered.

“Everything’s been taken care of,” Sanders replied. “You’ve got a nice apartment in the heart of New York City.”

“Once we get back you’ll be given a package of everything you’ll need,” Lawson interjected. “Bank account, credit cards, car, passports, drivers license, everything.”

“You’ll notice that $250,000 has been deposited into your bank account to start with. Once we see that you’re going to stay with us for a while you will get $500,000 deposited into your account every six months, the first of January and July.”

“Nice.”

“Money will be the least of your worries. Make no mistake though, you will earn every penny of it.,” Sanders added.

“What if I don’t like living in New York?”

“You only have to stay there for a brief period. We want to make sure you’re completely comfortable with the operation. After that, you’re free to live wherever you like. More times than not you’ll be off on an assignment anyway. One of the trade-offs of that money is that you will be on call 24/7. You will make yourself able to be contacted at any time of the day no matter where you are. If you are needed on an assignment immediately, you are to drop what you’re doing and respond at a moments notice,” Lawson explained. “It is rare when that happens as we like to plan missions out a few days in advance, but it does happen and you will be available.”

“That’s not a problem. I obviously have nothing or no one to tie me down.”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. At one point this agency frowned upon agents having exterior relationships as they felt it would interfere in plans and at some point cause friction. What we found was some agents began to snap. Loneliness set in, there was nobody waiting for them, nothing to keep them going, and the stress of the missions wore them down. Now the policy is that we encourage you to make friendships and relationships outside of this agency. We want you to be happy and content and in return hopefully agents won’t go off the deep end. The conditions are that you cannot tell them what you do. If you want to tell them you work in insurance, or sales, or even for the government, that is up to you. But your work here is top secret.”

“And I’ll even take it a step further,” Sanders chimed in. “You’re paid handsomely for your work here and in return for that we expect to be your number one priority. I don’t really care what you do or say when you’re at home as long as this agency is not involved. We are an ultra top secret department and we must remain that way. Any slips by you about our work here to a friend, girlfriend, wife, reporter, anybody, will result in their immediate death…and probably yours. There are no reprieves and it’s non-conditional. Is that clear?”

“I understand. How long will I be needed to do this?” Cain wondered.

“There’s no set timetable. We ask for ten or fifteen years. Anything after that will be evaluated on a case by case basis,” Lawson said. “If you choose to walk away at that point you’ll have fifteen million dollars in your bank account and free to live the rest of your life however you choose, though you’ll forever be bound by the rules of disclosure about this agency.”

“What about guns?”

“You’ll be given your choice of weapons at the Center. Though you won‘t always travel with them. Due to airport security and customs, sometimes you‘ll need to acquire your weapon once you arrive at your target location. Typically it‘s not a problem as we have operators and safety deposit boxes all over the world. Obtaining a weapon will be the least of your problems.”