John R. Starvele
© JAN 2000
‘Dooms Dee’ is heavily influenced by the late Ian Fleming’s works. He died way too young at 55 years. You probably know him better by: “My name is Bond, James Bond” and possibly Chitty Chitty Bang Bang his only children’s story. As we electricians say, “Bond, Bond Bushing. It’s and electrical joke if you are at all interested look under electrical grounding, electrical parts, bond bushing.
I will continue to digress in the hopes of adding to your education; I was once a high school teacher. There were actually five Chitty Bang Bang cars built. They were not magical like Ian Fleming’s book but they, even by today standards, could be considered awesome.
Chitty I was a Mercedes Benz 1907 Chassis lengthen and strengthen to except a Mayboch 23-L (1,403-cuin) six-cylinder aircraft engine used on Bristol bomber in W.W.I. The engine developed 305-bhp at 1,500-rpm. Chitty I lapped Brooklands Oval at 182.98-Kph (113.45-mph) it’s top speed was over 201.6-Kph (125-mph). Data from The Encyclopedia of the World’s Classic Cars by Graham Robson, Cartwell Books Inc.
Dooms Dee was a sub character in my second novel, Deadlock with the Kismet Cat © 1996 and I devoted a chapter to her. A fellow worker, call my book kiss a dead cat for that I may not let him read it. I enjoyed writing about her preparation for her mission and her conflict with the Kismet Cat. I could say I find her attractive in her determined pursuit but I sure don’t find her politics attractive. She continues to pop-up through the rest of the novel and appears in the next novel in progress, The Ultimate Alternative © 1996 (still unfinished). I have edited out some of her chapter. If Bill Gates can sell you same product, several times I thought I might try it by turning her chapter into short story.
You may get glimpse of agents like Deede Grant a cybernetic woman on way to become even more so in her roll as CEO getting off a business jet or getting or out of a limousine in her well-dressed suit.
I’ll leave to ‘Dooms Dee’.
ON THE BEACH, IN FRONT OF A MOTEL, VIRGINIA BEACH, VA
It was Sunday afternoon and Glen Coleman or Boner as his fellow workers called him was a twig of man 1.9-m (6’3”) and 77-Kg (170-lbs.). He had long straggly mousy brown hair that he kept in a ponytail and his large thick glasses did nothing to help his appearances. He was walking hand in hand with his new girl friend, Deede Grant, on the beach that he had met on the Internet a week ago. They were enjoying the sound of the ocean waves braking and they’d spent the night at the motel. His girl friend was in here early thirties, like himself; she was a little stout to be a model but still had a pleasing figure for her 1.7-m (5’ 7”) height. She had sparkling blue eyes that complemented her auburn hair. Boner thought he had finally met the right person; although, she was very aggressive. He enjoyed that aggression in bed. There was little they hadn’t conversed about, and their tastes were similar, except when it came to political ideologies.
Deede asked Boner, “What is it that you do for a living?”
“Let’s not talk about work. Besides, I’m not supposed to anyway.”
“You work for the Government.”
“Yes, the CIA.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those spies, like Bond, James Bond.”
“Not hardly; I spend my day analyzing computer data, equipment designs and computer systems.”
“Dear, we may have a problem, because I work for the CIA too and you know about the non fraternization policy with people in different departments.”
“Well, sweetie, are you one of those operatives?”
“I use to be, but now, I just work in the finance department on a computer; I wish I could get back out in the field again.”
“What kind of field operative were you?”
“I was in terminations.”
“You’re an assassin!”
“I was one of the best.”
“What happened, if I might ask?”
“Well, I did my job so well, of eliminating enemies of our Country my new supervisor, just after Director Steve Stinson took over, gave me accolades for my efforts and gave me special attention and praise. I loved the recognition. He suggested I do three targets and left the disposable data for me.
I quite efficiently did two of the local targets one night, in a Washington lounge. They turned out to be the Chairman and the political strategists for the up coming Presidential campaign for the Sagacious Party, the opposition of our beloved President. They truly were enemies of our Country. I just don’t understand the public outcry over their deaths, but my Government took care of me, like it always has and does so compassionately, for so many others. Because of the stupid public outrage, I was hidden in the computer finance department, until things blew over. I suppose my boss was also hidden somewhere. So, officially, I’m on disciplinary transfer. I didn’t get to the third one on my list.”
Boner compassionately responded to Deede conversation, however he was appalled at the political methodology. Humoring Deede, “I’m sorry. Who was the third one?”
“Some inconsequential TV commentator, that keeps the public outraged over nothing.”
Boner pressing the issue asking, “Who?”
“Crush Limberger. It would have been beneficial to get rid of him, but I’m beginning to realize now, that he is entitled to the first amendment and it was wrong of my ex-supervisor to target him. I’m glad, I didn’t get to Crush. My psychiatrist, Carl Siche says I’m doing well, since my transfer.”
Boner still liked Deede, and hoped there would be help for her. He enjoyed sex that night, even more, knowing the danger of making it, with an assassin, that could snuff him any time.
IN ROUTE TO DEED GRANT’S HOME, RESTON, VA
After work, Boner parked his car at the transit parking lot and took the shuttle to Washington. At the next stop he got off and got another on one going the opposite direction. He looked to see if anyone was hurrying to make the same quick change with him; no one had. The tram went past Langley to the next town. He got off looking to see if he was followed. He took a transit bus to Reston checking to see if anyone was suspicious. He switched city buses several times checking people around him until he went into a 24-hour restaurant. He slipped out the backdoor looking to see if anybody was watching him leave the restaurant. He dashed across the delivery access area and over the block wall fence into a back yard. Over the fence, he walked slowly, exhausted across Deede’s back yard. She held up cocktail glass of a vodka martini, shaken not stirred.
It had been Deede’s idea to spend the weekend at her house. They had been doing message drops in code in various trashcans. Code communications on the computer. Boner was wondering if all the cloak and dagger exercises were necessary to keep their relationship a secret from the management. He was finding that the exercises did add to the encounters though, something about forbidden fruit being sweeter.
X X X
CIA HEADQUARTERS LANGLEY, VA
This was Boner’s sixth day on operation ‘Kismet Cat’. He had gotten the code name ‘Boner’ because the first week he was with computer division of the CIA he had made a couple of mis-strokes and had wiped their mainframe’s memory. Luckily they had back up system that hadn’t been compromised and all files were restored.
The last six days of critical alert; operation ‘Kismet Cat’ all stated seven nights ago with extensive unauthorized penfires and non-nuclear thunderclaps targeting areas of Carcass Venezuela leveling half the city. There was massive ground troop fighting that resulted in Major General outside Carcass surrendering Venezuela unconditionally to U. S. acting for the late President Jorge Vasquez who had been killed in fight.
Penfire was the code name for an orbital-laser-satellite’s-discharge at a ground target. The orbital lasers had the precision to target a single individual in a crowd and reduce him or her to ashes almost instantaneously leaving proximal individuals untouched. Or they could reduce entire city-block to molten rubble with one discharge.
A thunderclap was the explosion of a reentry bomb from an ordinance satellite often as much as fifty feet underground. As the saga had unfolded it was determined that one woman was behind all the unauthorized hacking and resulting discharges. She was one of President Jeorge Vasquez’s human experiments that had backfired on him killing him and reduced his entire operation to rubble.
The CIA had given her the code name ‘Kismet Cat’ because all the cybernetic implants Jorge had done to her gave her some cat like abilities. Her visual implanted display allowed her to see in dark and target most weapon systems. Her implanted auditory sensors were more sensitive than a bat for location and could rival a bank of clarification and amplification equipment in a sound lab. What really clinched the Cat title was that she had eight retractable razor knives under each of her artificial fingernails. However, what caused their consternation and the Kismet part of her code name was the computer command module in her frontal lobe that allowed her to program and executes variations on the programs faster than anything known, allowing her access to most lethal weapons available in the world the U. S.’s
Their Kismet Cat -Cathy Flanigan- was formerly a high school math teacher from North Carolina. They had watched her and her fiancé, Travis Heart and another woman from Vasquez Military compound of Carcass, her Doctor, Cyrill Vasquez, return to North Caroline.
Director, Steve Stinson was a middle-aged man of average height and brown hair. He addressed Pith. Pith had been given his nick name because he liked to use an ice pick to pith the brains of his victims, leaving all their vital organs still functioning and available for transplant.
“Pith, what do we have from your surveillance?”
“Well Steve, we’re still having very long data transmissions between the Heart residents and Lentri’s mainframe AMANDA that rotate as soon as we tapped into them. Dr Heart bought a cell-phone modem unit for a laptop at a discount computer supply store and the two female subjects bought a lot of clothes. A phone contact with Chairman Proctor and Travis arranging a demonstration of Cathy’s cybernetic capabilities for The Board of Directors and major stockholders at his home. The demonstration was set for a week from this Friday. There was a short list of equipment for Ms Flanigan’s demonstration so they may be auctioning the technology instead of a management promotion. Also, Heart rather forcefully discussed, with Proctor a gathering of experts to explore the undoing of Cathy’s cybernetic implants at Lentri on the following Monday morning.”
“Boner, who’s the best computer person in finances?”
Popped out of Boner’s mouth; he should have looked up the names in the computer records before he volunteered a name.
Steve picked up the phone and called the finance department.
“This is Stinson put Ms. Grant on, now!”
“Ms Grant I need you down in the operations.”
Deede was enthralled being invited to Operation Conference room. Maybe she would be getting back into operations again and at the senior command level.
Steve didn’t even let Deede sit down before he fired his first question at her.
“Ms Grant how many shares do we have in Lentri?”
Deede With her IQ of over 170 and photographic memory produced:
“We own, through various front corporations 15%.”
“Ms Grant, is any of our holdings enough to be considered to be a major stock holder?”
“One comes close at 6%, Director Stinson.”
“Ms Grant, Lentri is having a meeting of the board of directors and major stock holders and I want someone there, so have that corporation purchase enough of our other corporations to make the 10% that is necessary to be a major stockholder. Make sure Lentri knows about the acquisitions.”
“Done, Director Stinson.”
“Pith, when the call goes out for experts for the symposium on Monday, make sure we have our people there too.”
DEEDE GRANT’S HOME, RESTON, VA
It was late at night and Deede appeared to be sleeping after the last round of lovemaking. Boner, feeling restless, got up quietly closing the bedroom door, going down stairs for a snack and an additional libation in the refrigerator. He settled in the living room chair with the TV remote; selected the channel for the late night Crush Limberger broadcast, one of his favorite commentators. He hated missing Crush Limberger’s midday TV broadcasts, because at work Crush was politically incorrect.
Deede missed Boner, in bed, and went in search of him. She wandered into the living room.
“Dear, why do you watch that pompous, arrogant, toad, with his twisted logic and those cheesy tirades? Now dear, shut it off, and come back to bed.”
X X X
It had been a long while since Deede Grant had been involved in any fieldwork. Her job lately had been in the computerized finance department, electronically transferring funds from the Treasury to the different operations of the CIA, and the Presidents special projects, so that they would continue to run smoothly. A previous administration had gotten in trouble for misusing the FBI and this President wasn’t going to make that mistake. He used a secret organization to do his foul vocations. The most challenging part of her computer manipulations of the funds was hiding where they went, from the Congressional Finance Committee. Her job at first had been an unwelcome rest from eradicating all the enemies of America, but it was challengingly safe. Although, as of late, it had become safely dismal and boring so she grabbed at, or more precisely maneuvered into an opportunity to be a field operative again at the Proctor’s party.
Deede craved the excitement of delivering the final blow for freedom and her country, even if the last two-times had been members of the Sagacious Party. They were still enemies of her President. She loved the hazard pay, the operative expense account, and especially the attention of the other workers of, ‘The Firm’, gave her preparation for, and debriefing after, one of these missions. Who knows she might even be reassigned to assassinations in covert operations again if she did well.
Deede, had done what she had promised Steve. She as CEO of the Absolute Component Company did a hostile take over of four of The Firm’s other company holding Lentri stock. She liked doing the hostile takeovers it was akin to assassinations. In the acquisition merger process, she made sure she had a high enough profile, so Lentri couldn’t help, but notice her; then it would be impossible for Steve to send someone else.
Deede was pleased when Steve order her to the event on Friday night.
He apologetically said, “Deede, I’m sorry. I’d rather be sending one my men into this possibly life threatening situation, against a very perilous and proficient cybernetic woman, code-named Kismet Cat. But I have no other choice, Lentri has pictures of you as Absolute Components Company’s CEO.”
Deede was infuriated by his remarks, but responding with a cool practiced professionalism, “I’m as good as any of your good old boys from back home and most of the agents in The Firm. I’ve done some very difficult terminations that few others are capable of, and I don’t shrink from peril. Thank you, for sending me out again. I’m looking forward to the mission.”
“Good, Deede there is a remote possibility that you might also be called upon to kill the three subjects but by specific order only.”
She looked forward to killing again.
THE HOME OF DEEDE GRANT, RESTON, VA
Boner had arrived earlier through another cloak and dagger exercise. Deede and Boner were in her canopy bed still enjoying their sexual encounter.
Deede said, “Sweetie, I know were not supposed to talk about work, but we both know about this cybernetic woman so what will it hurt.”
“I suppose nothing, dear.”
“Did you ever think what it might be like to have those kinds of computer abilities?”
“Yes, I have.”
“If I can get the technology tomorrow night, do you think you’ll volunteer for our cybernetic project?”
“I’ve already been volunteered, or more precisely, selected by Steve.”
“You don’t want to do it?”
“Well, I would just like to be able to make the decision myself!”
“Dear, I think I’m going to volunteer for the cybernetic project. With those cybernetic capabilities, they couldn’t help letting me be an operative again.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Boner, dear, I’m not the kind of woman, that would be happy as a sedate house wife. Will you help me become the best cybernetic operative possible.”
“No, I won’t dear, I love you the way you are and there is no telling what they would do to you in the process.”
“The Government would never hurt me. They have always provided well for me and taken care of me. Our President from the Munificent Party is going to make things even better if he can just get rid of the Sagacious controlled Congress. The cybernetic implants, especially if you designed them for me, would make me an invincible agent, and being the best agent there is, is what I live for.”
“The answer is still no, honey.”
“Boner, dearest, If I was ever fatally wounded or disabled during a mission you would want them to rebuild me with the cybernetics, rather that leaving me disabled or letting me die?”
“Ah, Yes, I guess so dear, under those circumstances.”
“Promise if the situation comes up, you will do your best.”
“OK, I promise.”
X X X
After another encounter in bed, Deede said, “Tomorrow night’s mission, dear, you know these missions always have the potential for loss of life and that’s part of what I love about doing them. I want you to remain professional if you’re working this one, regardless of what happens to me. Do your job the best you can, and let’s keep our love a secret from our supervisors. I don’t want you to jeopardize yours or my career. Promise me you won’t grieve if I die, I’m doing what I love, just go get another good bed partner, Promise.”
“OK, I promise.”
Deede and Boner enjoyed the night.
X X X
THE HOME OF DEEDE GRANT, RESTON, VA
Deede had taken Friday off, with pay, to prepare for her mission at Chairman Proctor’s party. She had spent the morning shopping for five designer outfits with matching shoes and handbags, for the event, on her now open operative’s expensive account. All were in good taste for a woman CEO, of which she legally was of the CIA owned corporation Absolute Component Company, which now held 10 % of LenTri’s stock. Besides, if she were called upon by her nation to be an assassin again, it would be better not to be too unique.
When she arrived home from her shopping, a little after one thirty local time, the special-equipment department’s technicians met her. They inspected her purchases, choosing a maroon outfit with an off-white blouse. (She didn’t like their choice of outfits.) The tailor ripped and re-stitched seams where necessary to install a lapel camera, transmitter and power supply while she went into the bathroom with the group’s cosmetologist. The cosmetologist did Deede’s hair in an auburn shade, then acted as a handmaiden during the rinse and ensuing shower process, helping her with soaps, bath oils and toweling off. The group’s cosmetologist applied skin lotions, deodorant and perfume and had her foundation wear ready. Deede was now in her underwear, as the cosmetologist continued, with her face, doing the best to complement her sparkling blue eyes. Her hair was almost dry as she emerged from the bathroom.
The first item of apparel the special-equipment technicians applied was a plastic holster that they glued to her inner left thigh, very high up. They didn’t want any straps on the outside of the legs to show or be felt if she was frisked. That was followed by panty hose, in which, they made an opening in for the holster. She put on various pieces of the outfit as they offered it to her.
The jewelry contained two rings rather large and ornate; Deede had to remove her ring. The technician informed her that the ring on her right hand had a compartment that held a drug. One drop of it in a drink would greatly assist in obtaining knowledge from a subject and the ring on her left hand held another drug that was harmless and had no effect by it self by itself, but if mixed with the drug from the ring on her right hand it was quickly lethal. There was a necklace of gold beads, which had microphone, transmitter and recorder built in. The necklace had matching earrings. A technician carefully explained to her, that the earrings would make a big noisy impression, if they received a sharp blow.
Deede was curious why they didn’t use one of the earring for an auditory radio receiver to receive instruction, like they had done on other missions. One of the technicians explained to her, that Cathy’s augmented cybernetic hearing would allow her to hear any instructions given over an earring receiver. That was why they had chosen the auditory cannel radio receivers and the hand grenade earrings.
A Technician asked, “Deede, are you ready for the receivers?”
Deede though she was mistaken, when she heard receivers, as in plural, usually they only used one. She answered, “Yes,” remembering from an earlier time, the pain of inserting a receiver next to the tympanic membrane. Once a receiver was in place, it was only mildly annoying; actually, it was more annoying, not having a way to shut out the person, talking in her ear. She still had some apprehension about the receiver, because there was no way to remove them, without special tools.
She laid her head over to the left and one of the technicians held her head, while the other forced the alignment /expander tool, with lighted scope, in her ear. Down the funnel opening of the expander tool, on a long rod, went a small ring structure, with one sidewall being thicker. The technician with little twist removed the rod as Deede flinched at the brief peak of pain as the auditory radio receiver was set in place. She though they were through, but the technician laid her head over to the right and the other technician moved around and held her head again. The technician with the tools apologetically explained:
“I was told to do both ears. This mission is too important to jeopardize, because we can’t give you instructions.”
Deede complacently accepted the installation of the other auditory radio receiver, feeling flattered, that she had such an important mission.
That was followed by contact lenses, which they installed on both her eyes, usually, they did just one eye with a special purpose lens, but they were doing both eyes. They felt like her ordinary lenses and she could see well except for the color shift.
“Deede these contact lenses will allow you accurately to aim an infrared-laser-targeted pistol.”
The technician handed Deede the pistol. It was lighter than she expected for its size.
“When your hand is on the grip it will activate the laser targeting system.”
Deede could see the small spot on the wall where the laser aimed gun was pointed.
The Technician continued, “This is a totally plastic pistol almost undetectable. The laser targeting system is tied to a polymer smart bullet in the firing chamber. When fired, the smart bullet will track on the last target acquisition within reasonable limitations. It won’t make right angle turns but a 45-degree deflection in 15-m (49’) is possible. There are fourteen bullets that can be auto fired. This selects for auto fire or manual. I would recommend against auto fire. This is the safety. Each of the smart bullets will penetrate half an inch of armor and explode with enough force to render an elephant into Jell-O.”
Deede placed the pistol in its holster under her skirt with the barrel pointing up at her; the handle down making it quick and easier to draw. To Deede, It felt good to be carrying a gun again, even where it was; She felt more aroused by the pistol’s location than any other position she had packed a gun before.
A technician with a head set, microphone and monitor was testing the systems while the cosmologist finished off her hairdo. Deede was responding to his instructions and he was receiving all of her signals well.
Deede stood, all assembled in front of a mirror, admiring and liking the attractive, pampered, important person, that was about to go out and do something significant for her country. She didn’t even mind the small discomfort in her ears or the somewhat strange colors in her vision, as she thought and inadvertently vocalized:
“Dressed to kill! Kismet Cat you can kiss my ass! You’re about to meet Dooms Dee! Cybernetic woman, ha! I’m half way there now; I’m going to volunteer for the cybernetic project after I get the technology for ‘The Firm’.”
Her aloud thoughts were recorded as well as interrupted by direct communication from Steve Stinson through her newly install auditory radio receivers and microphone.
“Deede, Sorry to interrupt your aggressive fantasy but I want to, and feel the need to, remind you of the of mission profile.”
“OK Steve, go head.”
“This mission is: One: primarily to gather psychological data on Dr Vasquez and anything we can use to entice her. Two: observation of Ms. Flanigan’s abilities as demonstrated. I repeat as demonstrated willingly, and not provoked by you. Do nothing. I repeat, do nothing to hasten an incident. This is an observational mission only, unless otherwise directed. Is that Clear?”
“Yes Steve. Ah Steve, If I’m in danger can I defend myself?”
“No, Unless you are given clearance to do so. Three: gain as much cybernetic technology as possible without risking your cover. Fourth: in the event of an auction of cybernetic technologies to hostile powers and I hope it doesn’t come to that. If it does you will by special instructions only, terminate any sources of the technology. We will, not you, determine if it appears to be auction of cybernetic technologies to hostile powers. You will not, on your own make the determination. Is that clear?”
“Now repeat your mission to me.”
“1: I will gather as much psychological data on Dr Madruga as possible for her acquisition.”
“2: Observation of Ms. Flanigan’s cybernetic abilities.”
“3: Gain as much of the technology as possible.”
“4: by special instructions only, terminate all sources of cybernetic technology.”
“I am not to precipitate any confrontation or even defend myself if in danger unless cleared to do so.”
“Deede, where you serious about volunteering for the cybernetic project?”
“Yes Steve, I was.”
“Deede I’ll put your name on the list. Enjoy the evening, I know you don’t get out that much.”
Another technician handed her a matching purse. She checked its contents; her cell phone was in the purse, after all a CEO would have one, there was nothing else in the purse that could be traced to ‘The Firm’.
The flight to Rocky Mount in a chartered jet, which was met by a chauffeur driven limo, continuing her pampering, which Deede was lapping up, in spite of the increasing butterflies in her stomach. The limo driver was her support for the event.
CHAIRMAN PROCTOR’S HOME, ROCKY MOUNT, NC
Deede’s limo pulled up under the column overhang in front of Archer Evan Proctors new Georgian home. Boner’s voice came over the auditory receivers.
“Deede first thing to expect is security; a guard will open your door for you.”
An uniformed guard opened the door for her and relieved her of her purse.
They will inspect your purse and give it back to you on the other side of the front door.
“Ma’am we will give it back to you inside.”
She strolled up to the front door. The front door was recessed in a vestibule.
“Deede the entrance has metal detectors on either side in the Georgian trim, just be normal. You should be able to pass through.”
Deede passed through the entrance and rang the doorbell. On the inside two more uniformed guards greeted her. The door opener entered behind her, and gave her back her purse.
“Deede, move a little to the left so we can get a shot of the man on the left. Good. Now pan back to the right for the other one. We got them. Oh! That’s Proctor approaching you.”
“Good evening, I’m Archer Proctor, welcome to my home. I hope you find our demonstration interesting. You are?”
“Mr. Proctor, I’m Deede Grant from Absolute Components.”
“Yes Ms. Grant. You can call me Archer. Now let me introduce you to some our other guests.”
“Go with it Deede. It’s good way to get verification of identities.”
Archer escorted Deede to the bar and politely asked if she would like a libation.
“I got the bartender.”
She had her favorite a vodka martini, shaken not stirred.
“Deede Grant with Absolute Components; this is Neico O’Rouke. He is our President.”
“Deede, nice to meet you,” said Neico.
“I got him. He might be a good one to get some information from. Get back to him after the introductions.”
“Neico, that’s an unusual name. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Now I would like to introduce you to our special guest. This way.”
Cathy Flanigan the Kismet Cat had chosen a robin’s egg blue chiffon dress with many soft pleats that went from neck to well below her Knees, yet still revealed those feminine curves. She had chosen her old stand-by wig, the blond one, with straight hair down to her mid back. There would still be those that would remember her from Lentri. She, after several attempts, chooses a make-up very close to her skin color and a conservative lipstick close to a natural color.
“Wow doesn’t she look beautiful tonight.”
“Shut up Boner.”
That voice was Steve Stinson!
“Ms. Deede Grant with Absolute Components, this is Cathy Flanigan. Travis Heart, and Cyrill Vasquez.
Cyrill had chosen a plain emerald green dress with a full skirt. She had her hair done in a curly black mass. Her face was natural except for the dark eyeliner that highlighted her brown eyes.
The introduction continued....
“OK Deede looks like we got everybody. Boner is working on identifications. Try pumping Neico a little he’s at the bar and your glass seems to be empty.”
Deede ordered another vodka martini shaken and then directed her conversation to Neico O’Rouke.
“Mr. O’Rouke, right? You’re the President of Lentri?”
“Yes, you have a good memory.”
“You must have a significant role in this cybernetic break through.”
“Yes. I did oversee the entire project.”
Neico tended to exaggerate his importance in the project being he thought it would impress an attractive woman. Deede was impressed enough to drop her small purse and Neico bent over to pick it up. While Neico’s eyes were elsewhere Deede put one little teeny-weenie-little drop from her right ring in his glass by pushing on the ring with her thumb.
“No, Damn it! Ms. Grant I didn’t authorize the use of the truth serum!”
“Neico, what do you contribute your company’s success in the project to?”
“Well, we have the best research department.”
“Then, your role was administrative?”
“Primarily most of the technical information stayed with in the research department.”
“Drop him he doesn’t know anything.”
“Neico what was the biggest expenditure in the project?”
“Beside the salaries?”
“Don’t attract attention.”
“We had to build special room for the brain scanner. You know the rails for a chair that went into the scanner core had to have tolerances of .015-mm (.0006”).”
“Really, why was that?”
“Accuracy I suppose.”
“Ms. Grant your disobeying orders, now mingle awhile and try not to attract so much attention to your self. No more questions for a while!”
“Steve, I’ve identified all the guests and know one is suspicious.”
“Thank you Boner, why don’t you go on home. I can handle it from here.”
While Deede was hearing Steve and Boner’s conversations, she proceeded directly to Cyrill Vasquez. Boner departed the control room of the CIA Headquarters leaving Steve Stinson alone in the room and alone in the building on Friday night.
“Dr Vasquez, I’ve heard that you spent some time in Venezuela.”
“No. You shouldn’t know that. It will blow your cover now do as told.”
“Yes. Ms. Grant wasn’t it?”
“You can call me Cyrill.”
A waiter, with a plate of hors d’oeuvres passed by.
“Cyrill would you like a hors d’oeuvre?”
“Would you grab one of those little hot dogs for me then.”
While Cyrill was getting one of those little hot-dogs, Deede again used her ring on Cyrill’s glass.
“No! You bitch! If you get out there alive, I’m going to kill you.”
“Thank you. Your last name is Vasquez are related to late President of Venezuela?
“No, I’m originally form Pakistan; however anyone in the Venezuelan military legally has their name changes to Vasquez because we are all part of Jorge’s family.”
“What were your ideals and goals in the military?”
“We believe in a strong central committee, that takes all the land and products and distributes them to those, that need them. Only a centrally run government, by a single man, who delegating authority, to a committee can be efficient, in caring for the people.”
“Well, what do you think of our President?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about him. I’ve been so involved in my experiments.”
“Our President would like to disband Congress so he can get things done.”
“It sounds like an improvement.”
“Well, I think you got something we can work with there now move on to other guest before you get noticed.”
“What did you do in the experimental clinic?”
“Cybernetic enhancements of soldiers. Miss Flanigan was my most successful project.
“What do you contribute your success in the cybernetic project to?”
“Humph humph. Well, what did you do that others haven’t?”
“Well, I did a complete functional mapping of Cathy’s brain using a precision fixed matrix. That allows precision reproducibility of locations. So many projects start with a subject that has received a trauma and they have no idea how their subject’s brain functions, so they are doomed to failure, before they begin.”
“Damn you. Those aren’t questions a CEO would be asking! You're still drawing attention to yourself!”
“This fixed matrix, what was it?”
“We used EEG sensor electrodes for brain activity embedded in the skull and a brain scanner that held her head in exactly the same position to enhance the EEG data. We also piggybacked data recording, so we could collect data on brain activity and behavior for an entire day every day as was it was it was four months to do the mapping.”
“Whoa. You lost me.”
“That’s enough. Go pass pleasantries with others and we’ll have long talk about following orders.”
“Cyrill where do you see this cybernetic technology going.”
“Deede, someday we will be able to build a complete indestructible body. I’m looking forward to the day I can have one.”
Cathy caught sections of Ms. Grants interrogation of Neico at the bar, from across the room, with her cybernetic hearing. Cathy though, even for Neico, he was very sloshed for so early in the evening. What Cathy did catch of Ms. Grant’s conversations, with Neico, seemed more probing of cybernetic technology, than a company CEO would be doing. Cathy continued her milling and talking with the guests, when she noticed that Ms. Grant had now moved on to Cyrill. Cathy began to watch Ms. Grant more closely, feeling a potentially covert menace at work, when she saw the drop from her ring go into Cyrill’s margarita. Ms. Grant’s questions of Cyrill becoming increasingly psychologically probing as Cyrill obediently answered the quarries and appeared to become quickly inebriated. That prompted Cathy to switch to infrared and near violet vision scanning Ms. Grant. Her eyes were not quite right, even for contact lenses. There were heat shadows that shouldn’t be there on her left lapel and a much larger one on her left inner thigh. Cathy curtly cut-off the current conversation and with quick strides, faced off with Ms. Grant.
“Ms. Grant, who are you really? What did you put in Cyrill’s drink?”
“Ah Shit. You stupid bitch you’ve been made. Now do nothing to provoke incident further!”
Ms. Grant in a louder than conversational voice, “Not that it’s any of your business, I’m Deede Grant, an aggressive CEO of Absolute Components and just this week I’ve acquired three other corporations holding stock in LenTri. I am going to own Lentri. I didn’t put anything in Cyrill’s drink.”
“Oh F*^(*&^ I told you not provoke her.”
“Ms. Grant you’re a liar and there is something not right about you.”
Deede AKA Dooms Dee went for her gun.
There was a blur of motion and a glint of something shiny as Cathy blocked Deede’s right hand with her left arm. Now pressing on the skin of the left side of Deede’s throat, over the juggler vein and carotid artery, were the four ever sharp claws deployed from Cathy’s finger nails. As Dooms Dee stood frozen, Cathy reached under her skirt, ripping the gun out, pointing it at the ceiling. The conversation in the room abruptly ceased with a few screams as people dove for cover and hit the floor.
“Folks, We had planned a more mundane demonstration but someone seems to have wanted to liven up our performance tonight.”
Cathy briefly switched to infrared and saw the dot of the targeting laser on the wall, where she was now pointing the pistol at. She then put the target dot on one of Deede’s pupils. She flinched, closing her eye. Cathy tried the other eye; she flinched again, closing her eye.
The guests were beginning to look out from their hiding places, to see, what was going on.
“Ms. Grant, you seem to have special contact lenses, that allow you to see a normally invisible-laser-targeting-system of this pistol? Its polymer construction is apparently undetectable by most methods, since you got inhere with it. Ms. Grant, We will admit a CEO may sometime carry gun but not where you do, or a weapon of this technology. This is more the trademark of a spy or an assassin. Which are you? Whom do you work for? Does it have smart bullets in it too? Archer, bring AMANDA on line on the wall view screen and maybe we can find out who Ms. Grant really is.”
Cathy turned Ms. Grant over to Travis as she stood facing her now.
“Folks, this is how Ms. Grant looks in our infrared vision.”
On the wall screen was an infrared image of Deede. There was cool spot where her holster was located on her inner thigh and another one on her left lapel. A cross-appeared on the cool area of Deed’s left thigh with 1.4m to the right of it.
“We’re using a targeting system to put the cross on the cool area, on her thigh. Notice the distance measurement to the right of the cross. This infrared signature is part of what tipped me off, that she might be carrying this gun.”
Cathy moved the cross up to the lapel.
“Now here, we have an another heat shadow. Let’s find out what’s here.”
Cathy slashed the left lapel with the claws of her left hand, withdrawing the micro camera transmitter and powerpack, dropping it on the floor and crushing it with her foot.
“Well, we were being watched. What other goodies do you have? If We were a Spy We would have a microphone and transmitter somewhere else as backup.”
Cathy ripped the necklace from Deede’s neck and threw it to Travis.
“Looks like a microphone. Probably a transmitter and maybe a recorder too.”
“All of the best apparel of a spy. The only thing missing is an auditory radio receiver to receive instructions with. These earrings maybe?”
Cathy removed a pierce earring a little more gently than other items, leaving Deede’s earlobe intact.
“No openings for sound, but it matches the necklace.”
She put the earring up to her ear-processor under her blond hair and listened, but heard nothing. Just to be on safe side she dropped it into a near-by full glass. She removed the other earring and dropped it into the glass also. Then she put her ear-processor up to Ms. Grant’s ear. She could faintly hear the voice of an irate man chewing Deede out. Cathy didn’t recognize the voice of Steve Stinson.
“We think we ought to take a look at this ring.”
Cathy removed Deede’s right ring and it dripped on the floor, when she grabbed it.
“Ms. Grant, We spilled your drink. Archer, would you be a dear and kindly get a replacement for Ms. Grant, a vodka Martini shaken.”
Archer went to the bar. The bartender from under the bar pushed a glass across the bar to him. Archer returned with the drink and Cathy put a drop in the glass from Deede’s ring. She removed the other ring and it also dripped. So Cathy added a drop from the other ring to the martini. Cathy brought the glass over to Deede and started to force it in her mouth.
“You seem to have something to say.”
“The two together are lethal. The drug from the right ring is harmless truth serum. Your friend will be fine.”
“Well, Ms. Grant, how many people do you have with you tonight? Watch the screen and you can see what I’m seeing.”
Cathy switched from infrared vision to monitor screen and with a series of computer commands, which appeared on the screen as well. She directed the security video system of Archer Proctor’s grounds to do a complete sweep. All that was to be seen was the chauffeurs in their parked cars and the security guards.
Cathy then did a quick scan of the security videotapes until she found Deede’s arrival. She stopped on the frame where the limo’s license plate was and zoomed in on the plate.
“It appears, Ms. Grant, you only have your driver here, whom either doesn’t know what has happened, or is being ordered not to get involved. Let’s do a check on the car license.”
Command codes moved across the screen as Cathy entered the police computer for vehicle registration.
“As you see, a local limo service. Let’s give them a call.”
The microphone extended out of Cathy’s right ear-processor, but to those gathered it looked like it just came out of her blond hair on the right side of her head. Over the stereo system, which went with the wall screen, was a dial tone, which was followed by series of tones that equated to the limo services’ phone number.
“Emit Limo dispatch.”
“Do you have a limo, license number Emit-4?”
“Yes ma’am, we do.”
“Well, We back into the limo when it was parked two and half hours ago. We’re sorry about the damage We caused but there wasn’t anyone to give our insurance company name to. We had to get back to the kids, that We left alone, so We couldn’t wait around. Please don’t blame the driver. By the way, who was the driver?”
“Ma’am, that car is here in the repair garage. That’s impossible.”
“Thank you. We must have misread the license plate.”
Cathy held her hair away from her right ear-processor as the microphone retracted, after she hung up.
“At least for the time being We seem to have reached a dead end. This gun is rather interesting.”
Cathy with AMANDA’s help identified the gun and the type of bullets. As AMANDA identified the gun and bullet the blueprints and specifications appeared on the wall screen, with note, primary customer U. S. Government.
Cathy next moved on to information files and found Deede Grant of Reston Virginia and two phone numbers one for home and another for a cell phone. Cathy called the Cell phone number and the cell phone in Deede’s purse started to ring. Cathy hung up and did a search of the banking systems and found accounts in the Chase Bank. Cathy brought up the bank records.
“Not that much money in transactions or assets for a corporate CEO.”
Cathy scanned the bank deposits in Deede’s checking account.
“Automatic deposit from the U. S. Government payroll, CIA.”
Cathy abandoned the bank records and began the subversion of the security programs of the CIA personnel computer with AMANDA’s help. It wasn’t long Deede Grant’s file was appearing on the screen.
“Assassin who enjoyed her work too much resigned to the computer operator in financial department after disciplinary action. Currently assigned to Operation Kismet Cat. Us?”
Breaking another long taciturn silence Deede said, “Yea, you are a National Security Risk!”
Cathy escorted Deede to the door pushing her out and slamming it behind her. Deede ran to the limo with her torn clothes, devastated. She got in back without the chauffeur help and the car drove away. All the doors locked and the privacy glass was up in the limousine as they sped away from the home of Archer Proctor.
Her ear-receivers were quiet as she thought: I got out alive! It will be problem explaining on Monday to Director Stinson but at least I’ll be seeing Boner again.
Her adjutant and driver got on the freeway but didn’t head for Langley or Reston; instead he went to Raleigh, getting off at a downtown exit. Sitting at a stoplight, Deede tried to open a door. It was lock and wouldn’t open. Her driver /adjunct drove into a deserted underground parking garage of a large skyscraper, stopping with squealing tires in front of the service elevator. He got out, forcefully opening the back door of the car.
Deede got out on her own, not knowing, what else to do. Her aide grabbed her by the arm and marched her into the elevator, where he selected the third subbasement, an equipment floor. The noise in the elevator rose as they approached the floor. The opposite door of the elevator opened that normally would open onto the street for deliveries. There was a short passageway to a small barren room.
Her assistant /driver forcibly sat her down in the only chair in the center of the cubical. It was one of those military metal office chairs, with a gray colored thinly padded short straight back, that provided little support. The seat of the chair was of the same unpadded flat uncomfortable upholstery. Her assistant closed, the Government Issue handcuffs on her wrists, the other side of the handcuffs were already around the steel chair arms. He then locked the two sets of handcuffs on the chair legs around her ankles. With that, he ripped open the front of her designer blouse to the waist. Then he proceeded to rip open the back of the designer jacket and the blouse underneath to the chair back. He glued electrodes on her back, chest and temples, plugging them into a box on the back of the bolted down chair. He applied several trans-dermal drug patches: One in the middle of her forehead, two on the front /sides of her throat and few extras on her chest and back. After the patches were applied to get things started more quickly he used a hypodermic spray on Deede. Then he turned and left the room, sealing the door, leaving Deede alone in the cold noisy room, with a light in her face.
Secret Interrogation Room under an office building, downtown Raleigh, NC
The trans-dermal patches and the hypodermic spray contained a drug that would make mental suggestions more readily acceptable. Deede surveyed the room and there was another light to her right and one to her left. She sat wondering what was next.
A distorted voice, a psychologically engineered voice, with all the special frequencies to bring out fear and submission in a subject sounded in the ear receivers and room speakers. The volume rose until Deede couldn’t stand it and flinched as the voice said:
"Deede, what was your mission?”
Deede hesitated, the lights especially in the laser-targeting range of her still installed contact lenses got intolerably bright as painful electrical shocks were delivered to her back, chest and temples by the electrodes. After an eternity, it stopped the light returning to a tolerable level and Deede responded to the voice haltingly.
“My mission was:”
“1: to gather as much psychological data on Dr Madruga as possible for her acquisition.
“2: Observation of Ms. Flanigan’s cybernetic abilities.
“3: Gain as much of the cybernetic technology as possible.
“4: by special instructions only terminate all sources of cybernetic technology.”
As Deede finished her answer the lights got intolerably bright as painful electrical shocks were administered. After another eternity it stopped and the light returned to a tolerable level. The voice said at the same intolerable amplitude:
“Your mission was a failure. The President and I are very disappointed in you.”
“But Steve, I obtained the data on Dr Vasquez and I found out some information on cybernetic technology from Neico. I witnessed Cathy’s demonstration. I wasn’t given orders to terminate.”
The lights got intolerably bright as painful electrical shocks were administered. After another eternity it stopped and the light returned to a tolerable level and the voice said the exact words from the earlier mission briefing:
“The mission is to, One: primarily to gather psychological data on Dr Madruga that we can use to entice her. Two: observation of Ms. Flanigan’s abilities as demonstrated.” “I repeat as demonstrated willingly and not as provoked by you. Do nothing. I repeat do nothing to precipitate an incident; this is an observational mission only, unless other wise directed. Is that Clear?”
The voice also replayed Deede’s response in her voice,
“Yes Steve. Ah, Steve, if I’m in danger can I defend myself?”
The voice continued:
“No, not unless you are given clearance. Three, gain as much cybernetic technology as possible, without risking your cover. Fourth, in the event of an auction of cybernetic technologies to hostile powers, you will, by special instructions only, terminate any sources of the technology. We will not you determine if it appears to be auction. Is that clear?”
Again in Deede own voice.
The voice Said:
“What was your mission?”
Deede launch into a verbatim repeat of what the voice had just said with a few mistakes. She was punished with bright light and shocks.
“Your mission was a failure. The President and I are disappointed in you. Why was your mission a failure?”
“Because I didn’t follow orders and I provoked an incident. I’m sorry Steve. I promise it won’t happen again. Steve, I’d like to become the cybernetic aspirant to make up for my failure, after all, the technology already developed for women.”
The voice responded with sarcasm:
“Your petition for the Cybernetic Project was accepted several hours ago. Thank you for participating. We are going make sure you will follow orders from now on.”
Steve Stinson in the control room at CIA headquarters engaged the auto interactive sequencer that would loop the words of the voice and apply torture if the responses were not precisely repeated.
It would in sequence continue to say:
“Your mission was a failure. The President and I are disappointed in you. Why was your mission a failure?”
That would be followed by torture.
If Deede answers were incorrect as to why the mission was failure she received torture, then it would sequentially loop. If she answered correctly it would just sequence loop again, and again, and again.
Still infuriated, Steve Stinson got up from his command chair, slamming the control room door, which automatically locked the now vacant room of the almost empty CIA headquarters as he departed, already late for the weekend political rally of his Munificent Party.
The auditory radio receivers were designed to last a minimum of 18 hours on their miniature powerpacks. The left radio receiver lasted 18.3 hours. There would be an investigation as to why the early failure of the left auditory receiver. The right one lasted an acceptable 21.7 hours before becoming silent, but the voice continued in the room loud speakers.
Monday morning, Carl’s psychiatric division acquired another dysfunctional ex-operative from a secret interrogation room under a building in Raleigh, North Carolina. The ex-operative wasn’t cognizant of the psychiatric staff arrival as she sat in shit, soaked with urine, periodically writhing, repeating the same thing over and over as the auto interactive sequencer droned on.
Psychiatric ward Bestheda, ML
Later that morning on a ward, operate by the CIA psychiatric division the special equipment people removed their remaining toys from Deede. She didn’t even know they were there, as she repeatedly convulsed and kept repeating the same thing over and over.
For the time being the psychiatric staff would let the consuming cycle running in her mind continue, fueling it when necessary, pushing it whatever direction necessary to devour her personality, morality, humanity, and even many of the basics of an animal. When they had cleared and leveled a rudimentary foundation they would brake the cycle and begin assembling their ultimate weapon. In the assembly process they wouldn’t waste time developing unnecessary behavioral activities such as toilet training or self-feeding, not to mention the niceties like the skills to live in society.
Deede, now renamed Doom Siss Dee, had a chart and a computer file that carried a patient number X09-44-4414. The X at the beginning meant a black or secret special project patient. Deede now Dooms Dee had the distinction of being a project equivalent to the U-2, The Blackbird and the Stealth Fighter. The next two digits indicated the year the project was initiated. The middle two digits were sequential numbers of the projects that year. The last four digits were a code for the letters DMSD, which was an abbreviation of the project code name.
Carl Siche thought the patient number very appropriate from his Chinese folklore the number four meant death.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of John Robinson.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/01/2009.