Memoria. A Corporation of Lies

Chapter Nineteen. Personality Correction

The light was so bright it penetrated his tightly shut eyelids. Frank sensed the heat from the lamp — or lamps, all directed at his face. He was afraid of opening his eyes: the excruciating pain at the back of his head made his brain feel as if it was about to explode, splattering grayish-bloody goo out of his ears, nostrils and his agonizing mouth.

He half-sat with his back bent, his buttocks and thighs touching the hard surface. What could it be — some kind of a hospital bed or an operating chair? The pain in his head started to subside. The lamps’ warm glow distracted him from feeling the blood pulsate in his temples and the back of his head.

Frank tried to move his hand and failed. Something prevented it from moving. He tried to shift his legs and sit up — also in vain. He lay bound; his chest, shoulders, elbows, hands, legs and feet all strapped with what felt like leather belts. Before he forced himself to open his eyes and investigate, he heard a voice to one side,

“He’s coming to.”

“Finally!” another voice said. “Thank God for that.”

The second voice sounded familiar. Frank had definitely heard it before — from a distance, and slightly distorted. Who could it have been, and where?

“Can you dim the lights, Bow? Even my eyes are hurting. It must be hell for him.”

“Yes, sir.”

The warmth and the light subsided, making Frank’s eyelids twitch. Thousands of colored stars whirled before his eyes, bringing the pain back. Blood pulsated, burning through the skull.

“You think he can hear me?” the familiar voice said.

A man’s breath and a whiff of an expensive aftershave brushed Frank’s face as the speaker walked around his bed and approached it from the right.

“I think so, sir. I’d suggest you wait a little. Don’t try and speak to him. Combined with memory retrieval, the selective memory scan may take a lot of time and can be quite painful. We can expect a temporary cerebral dysfunction followed by a nervous breakdown. The subject needs time to recover.”

“I don’t have the time. Can’t you give him a painkiller?”

“Out of the question. It may trigger a seizure. Then it would be impossible to—”

“Bow, I thought I made it perfectly clear. In an hour, I’m meeting with the Mayor. Then I’m flying to DC.”

Where is he, for Christ’s sake? Frank barely felt the touch of the needle to his neck. What had happened to him?

Another minute, and the pain subsided, leaving him free to think. His head cleared a little. But almost immediately, his lids became heavy. Now he felt drowsy and tired and had to force himself to resist sleep and open his eyes.

He lay on a low bed in his trousers and shoes, about three feet above the floor. His body was bound with leather straps. Frank tried to move. His limbs were seriously numb. He started flexing his muscles, clenched his fists and moved his feet, trying to get the blood going.

“Ah,” the voice resounded above his ear. “Nothing like exercise, eh?”

Frank craned his neck to look to his right. Russell Jefferson Claney stood next to his bed, easily recognizable by his smooth scalp pulled tight over his skull. The Congressman gave him a smug smile.

Frank turned away and looked to his left. A gaunt man in a lab coat stood there, his fair hair tousled, his hands going through surgical tools in steel sterilization boxes on the table. He did it with the ease of a trained professional who knew what belonged where. Without even looking, the man opened a medicine cabinet by the table and took a plastic box from the upper shelf.

Sensing Frank’s stare, the man turned round. Now Frank remembered him. The man looked tired now, and the winsome smile was gone from his face, but he looked the same as when he’d stood next to Claney on the screen of Max’s army laptop…

His coach. His last words.

Frank’s throat went dry. He couldn’t breathe. His heart thumped. Frank closed his eyes remembering all the events of the last few days, and wanted to scream with his own weakness.

“You’ve made me worried, Shelby,” Claney said. “And wait, too. Wait longer than I could afford. I’d love to pay you in kind but—”

Frank looked up, disdain in his eyes.

“What-” he had to clear his throat and start again, “What stops you?” He didn’t recognize his voice, distant and trembling, the voice of an old man. He could barely move his lips. His throat rasped.

“I’m glad to see you in good cheer. That’s my boy. You and I, we know what we want and how to go about it. You’re just like your father. I remember him well; you’re a chip off the old block. Your ambition, your ability to plan in advance and act accordingly — it must run in the family, you know. But as I said, I’m too pressed for time to play mind games with you. Frank,” Claney shook his head, “I have to admit I’m disappointed. You didn’t see the tape. You couldn’t appreciate our scope. We’ve tried so hard…” He sighed. “In any case, you didn’t even need the tape. You’ve worked it all out yourself without it. Well, almost.”

He glanced at Frank, checking his reaction.

“There was a moment, you know, when I very nearly offered you a position on our team. Imagine the possibility for promotion!” He bent over him. “One year, and you’re a sector manager, another, and you’re on the directors’ board. But — I’ve changed my mind. Thinking of you was a weakness.”

Frank squinted at Bow, wincing from the ache in the back of his head. Three paces away from the bed was a white door with some machines to its left, and also a cabinet and a water cooler. Next to them stood a table where the researcher was still fiddling with his stuff.

The room looked like an operating theater, with its light tiled walls and powerful lamps under the ceiling, framed in stainless steel. Only one lamp worked, dimmed to half power.

“Why?” Frank unglued his lips.

“Why what?” Claney stooped close to him. “You mean, all this? This is to make sure that the likes of you don’t break the law. Never!” His hand chopped the air. “The law is the same for everyone. And you, sir, have neglected your duty to visit Memoria already for a year while you should have been there three more times by now. As it is, you’re in breach of state law and must answer for it.”

“But,” a cough choked him, “what about Kathleen?”

“Kathleen!” Claney threw his hands in the air. “We will never forget her. I’m sorry it had to come to this. It’s this Bow here, he didn’t want to help her. He did the right thing, our Bow, he let us know about her plans just in time. By stealing the data, she signed her own death warrant.”

“Just like her father had done before her, hadn’t he?”

“Oh. Bow, did you hear that?” Claney crossed his arms on his chest and turned to the table. “You’d better check the matrix for something we’ve missed.”

Frank heard the fingers tapping on the keyboard. A monitor screen came up on one of the machines. Diagrams flashed on it, replaced by lines of decrypted information. Bow stepped up to the machine, his back concealing the screen.

“No, sir,” he said after a minute’s pause. “There are no memories of John Baker on the file, apart from general knowledge.”

“I bet there aren’t,” Frank managed a crooked smile. Instead of laughter, his throat made a gargling noise.

He’d blurted the first thing that came to mind. If he was right and Claney had something to do with Kathleen’s death… In a moment, his bluff paid off.

“You piece of shit!” Claney lashed out. “You think you’re so smart you can catch me? You can’t, mister, not Russell Claney!” He slapped Frank in the face. The copper band on Frank’s head fell to his chest. Claney pulled some of the cables attached to the band, and Frank’s headache disappeared.

William Bow, nonplussed, tried to catch the band but Claney yanked the rest of the cables loose. The copper band jumped up in the air and hit the table with a jingle as it fell among the stainless steel boxes.

“Sir, please! The equipment… the records… The subject..”

Once again Claney raised his fist. A signet ring flashed on his finger. The Congressman’s mouth curved in a sinister grin. He lowered his hand and spoke,

“John didn’t fit the mould and paid for it. He wanted everyone to have their free lunch. He didn’t know people. You offer them a finger and they’ll bite off your whole arm, then they will come back to swallow the rest of you.”

“So you decided to swallow the Baker family? Who’s next on your list, then? The migrants? All of us?”

“So!” Claney craned his head to one side and gave Frank a hateful glare. “I was right about your ability to plan in advance. Like teacher, like student. Wonder if I should reconsider and offer you a job at Memoria again? What would you answer to that?”

“Do you need to ask? Can’t you just make me obey you against my will?”

“You idiot!” Claney raised his fist.

The door swung open behind his back. A tall blond man appeared in the doorway, his eyes cold.

“You all right here?” the man looked around.

Claney didn’t answer. He still glared at Frank rearranging the loose ring on his finger.

“Sir?” the blond man touched his shoulder.

“Everything’s fine, Dickens,” Claney shook his hand off. “What you’ve got?”

“The first stage is terminated.”

“It took you some time.”

“We had trouble. Chief Bud Jessup put Binelli and the HQ under surveillance.

“He what?” Claney threw back his head. “Get me Agent Archer!”

William Bow, suddenly perplexed, dropped the copper band he’d picked up off the floor. It clanged on the tiles.

“Do your job, Bow,” Claney waved him away. “Make sure the equipment is up and running. Dickens? You still here?”

“I’ve already contacted Archer,” the man nodded. “He told me Jessup was out of reach. Without him, his officers refused to obey the Feds’ orders.”

“Oh, did they now?”

“They did.”

“And that reporter,” Claney peered into the man’s face. A shadow of fear flashed through his countenance.

“Jessup still has him.”

“And the tape?”

“Our man in the camp is dead. Migrants have cut off all contact, their cell phones are off, their radio station is dead. I’m afraid I don’t have enough information on the Bronx situation. The police are none the wiser.”

“Not enough information? Then go and get it!” Claney snapped. “Plug in the Mayor. Get Binelli to call him or send a delegation…”

“I spoke to Binelli, sir. He got the Mayor on the line, but the latter failed to find Jessup. Binelli is now trying to get an appointment with the Attorney General to stop Jessup’s indiscretion.”

“How much do you think he’s found out?”

“Nothing, sir. But this behavior shouldn’t be tolerated. Jessup has to answer for his actions.”

“He will indeed.” Claney paused. “That’s strange. When we arrived at the Bronx this morning, the police couldn’t care less. Jessup didn’t prevent us from entering the camp. He didn’t attempt to report the situation, let alone complain about it.”

“He was under pressure from Archer and DC. Now Jessup has severed all contact with them, and ordered his men to do the same. He’s on the loose, sir.”

“You think?” Claney looked at Dickens, thinking. “Okay. I’ll speak to the Mayor myself. I’ll give the Secretary a ring, too. You need to find out the reporter’s location. .”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that it? Are you sure? This tape worries me now. Bow has performed a selective memory scan on him,” Claney nodded at Frank who hung on his every word, “and what’s her name now — Maggie Douggan. According to it, both camera and the memory card containing the video file had been damaged. The card was handed to some migrant engineers after which your men arrived at Fordham. You confiscated the attaché case, the hard disk and the guns, but not the recording. You’ve failed to retrieve it, Dickens.”

“Do you want us to go back to the camp?”

“Not you. Let your man in the police department do it.” Claney’s stare turned to Bow, still busy with the copper band by the table. “The most important thing to do now is this reporter. And as for the tape…” He glanced at Frank and grinned, “Bow can always make a new one.”

“Yes, sir,” Dickens said.

“Absolutely,” the researcher echoed absent-mindedly.

Claney lingered, thinking, then turned to Dickens. “How many are already vaccinated in New York?”

“About ninety-three thousand, according to my sources, sir.”

“Not bad. And the country totals?”

“They differ from one city to the next, sir. Preliminary figures are in the region of a few million.”

“We’re still on schedule,” Claney mused. “Everywhere, by the looks of it.” He looked up at Dickens. “Anything up?”

“The cops,” Dickens looked at the door opened a crack and slammed it shut.

“What now?”

“All this tailing and wiretapping, Jessup and his men being funny…” Dickens looked at Frank and frowned.

“And? What’s the matter with you, Dickens? Can’t you answer a simple question? Yesterday you didn’t seem so — so insecure.”

The blond man raised his head. “I have a funny feeling the police know Shelby’s whereabouts. If so, they may also know what we need him for.”

“What a lot of bullshit,” Claney cringed. “How sure are you?”

Dickens shrugged.

“Let Jessup make as many mistakes as he can,” Claney continued. “Very soon we’ll hand him over a new and reformed Frank Shelby. Shelby the exposer, Shelby the champion of justice. He will hand the reporters the new tape and tell the world how he used the information he’d received from Kathleen Baker in order to change the world by messing up the original Vaccination model. How he tweaked the program installed in the mnemocapsules.”

Claney’s eyes glistened. “So when the gullible Kathleen found out, she wanted to stop him, and then Shelby strangled her in his own house. It was a strangulation you did, wasn’t it, Dickens?”

“Indeed it was, sir,” the man answered, his face unmoved. “But first, I stunned her and removed her clothing in order to create the impression of her expecting a man.”

“Good,” Claney grinned. “I do appreciate details. Our friend is now busy remembering them…”

Frank clenched his fists and shut his eyes. He couldn’t get to Claney. He couldn’t wring Dickens’ neck. He racked his brains for a way to escape his bonds once the two left the room. He wouldn’t have long to wait: Claney had a plane to catch leaving Dickens with too many things on his plate — the Vaccination, the police and some reporter they kept talking about.

“The man is easily excited,” Claney pointed at Frank. “So excited he even tried to attempt his father’s failed plan to murder the President. For that purpose, he infiltrated Memoria’s HQ with several accomplices. When his plan failed, he sought refuge in the Bronx camp. But Anna Gautier, even though a migrant herself, didn’t even want to hear them out. Then Shelby massacred the whole Council, one by one, and lost one of his accomplices in their desperate self-defense. By the way — Bow, what did you say happened to his other associates?

Frank tensed at the sight of the pale researcher. Bow averted his eyes.

“Maggie Douggan,” he started in a soft and reluctant voice, “is now being prepared for the second stage of the personality correction program. The brain of Barney Douggan has collapsed during the mnemocapsule decompression rendering him in a trance-like state, a bit like a coma. Trying to resuscitate him is not recommended. His system has been weakened by the procedure and such resuscitation may be dangerous to…”

Flexing his muscles one by one, Frank searched Bow’s table for some kind of sharp object. He had to get out of there. He had to save Maggie, find Barney and prevent the disaster from happening. He had no idea how the mnemocapsules worked, let alone what they contained. But now he was certain that the vaccinated would somehow obey Claney’s orders. The chemical mind lock could have something to do with it, too. Possibly, the two devices were programmed to work together to advance the mad Congressman’s plans. He had to find out when and how they would be activated. He needed to know Claney’s main target.

“Does that mean that you can’t apply correction to Douggan?” Claney glanced at Dickens.

“Not enough time,” he answered.

“Currently, Douggan responds to basic voice commands,” Bow said. “We gave him a false memories matrix, reinserted the capsule and submerged him into a trance. If we bring him to now, memory fusion may occur rendering the subject’s behavior unpredictable.”

“Rendering what?” Claney frowned.

“A new matrix needs time to root. At least twenty-four hours.”

“Shame,” Claney sighed. “I’m sorry about it. He would complete our motley crew,” Claney nodded at Frank and turned back to Dickens, “Can’t think of another name for them.”

“How about traitors,” the blond man suggested.

“Sounds good. Let it be traitors, then,” Claney glanced at his watch. “Bow? When can I expect the new tape for our traitors?”

“About forty minutes. Are you going to take a look?”

“No. Let Dickens watch it. I’ve got to go.”

He headed for the door. Now or never.

“Wait,” Frank croaked. “Can I have a glass of water?”

Claney stopped. “You asking me?”

“I need to ask you something. But I can’t speak. Throat’s too dry.”

“Bow,” Claney jerked his chin pointing at Frank.

Obediently, the researcher filled a plastic cup from the water cooler and put it to Frank’s lips.

“Thank you,” Frank said.

It was a strange feeling, moving his head when the rest of his body was strapped to the bed. Drinking allowed him to glance around the room. Frank noticed a scalpel in the heap of surgical tools on the table. He still had to get hold of it somehow, then cut the straps…

“Well?” Claney lost patience. “Didn’t you want to ask me about something?”

“Yes, of course,” Frank swallowed. “When will it all start?”

Claney looked at Dickens, then at Bow, then back at Frank.

“It already has. This morning.”

Frank pursed his lips to conceal his feelings. He still couldn’t work out how it was possible that thousands of people had already been “vaccinated”. And how was Claney going to make them obey his orders all at once? As he’d just said it should take at least twenty-four hours. But by then they couldn’t hide their game any more.

Back at Barney’s place, Max had explained to them why you couldn’t make a large crowd obey all at once. It had to happen in stages, at perfectly choreographed and mutually exclusive moments.

“Well,” said Claney, “I’ll be off, then.”

“Shall I get the chopper ready?” Dickens asked.

“You don’t need to. I’ll take a car to the Town Hall and then to the airport. Bow, you finish with Shelby here. Tell the other techs to get the girl ready as soon as they can. Make sure you supervise their every step.”

“They won’t start on her without me,” the researcher said.

“Good. Oh, and try to bring Douggan to. I want all three to make a full confession in front of the media tomorrow morning.” Claney looked back ay Dickens. “Start feeding the camp leaders’ massacre into the Net. After that, start the main phase. The roof equipment works fine, I hope? No more monkey wrenches in our works?”

“No, sir. I’ve double-checked everything I could. Even if they cut the power to the building, we’ll still have enough energy for the transmission.”

“You sure you have enough men?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for my plane to take off and then commence. Do make sure there’re no more setbacks, will you? And keep an eye on what the police are up to.”

Claney glanced at Frank and walked out. Dickens lingered, staring at Frank with those pale cold eyes of his as if trying to read his thoughts. Then he nodded to Bow and closed the door behind him.