Ghost Ship

Andre said, “To be honest, I’m not sure. Our orders were to bring you back to the Pentagon for a debriefing.”

“All right,” Sam said. “I suppose I’ll find out what this is all about when I get there.”

“Good man.”

Sam said, “One more thing?”

“What is it?”

“How did they erase my memory?”

Andre said, “That one I can answer.”

“Go on.”

“Have you ever heard about Project MKUltra?”

Sam nodded. “Sure. It was a CIA program in the fifties on mind control.”

“That’s right. It was the codename given to the CIA mind control program, which included experiments on human subjects that were designed and undertaken by the United States Central Intelligence Agency — and which were, at times, illegal.”

“They used drugs to obtain information from spies or something, didn’t they?”

“More than that. They experimented on humans to identify and develop drugs and procedures to be used in interrogations in order to weaken the individual and force confessions through mind control. The project was organized through the Office of Scientific Intelligence of the CIA and coordinated with the U.S. Army Biological Warfare Laboratories. The operation was officially sanctioned in 1953, was reduced in scope in 1964, further curtailed in 1967, and recorded to be halted in 1973… and some of its developments, such as mind wiping, are still used today.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I still don’t understand why you’re bringing me back?”

“Sure you do. Despite what you think you know about your government, the fact remains, you’re an American, and they want to protect you.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I doubt that. It seems more reasonable for them to ask me to sacrifice my life for the good of the nation, than illegally wipe my memory, don’t you think?”

Andre shrugged. “Hey, I’m just the delivery guy.”

“So that’s it then?” Sam asked. “I’m off to Washington to find out who I am and what I know?”

“Afraid so. Settle back and rest. You deserve it. I think it’s meant to be about a ten-hour flight. I’m going to go check on the pilots.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sam sat up and stopped Andre from leaving. “One more thing you might need to know?”

“Sure, what?”

“It’s about Tom Bower.”

“What is it?”

“I think he’s gone rogue and betrayed me.”

Andre’s eyes widened. “You’re sure? He’s meant to be your best friend outside of the Pentagon.”

Sam nodded, his ocean blue eyes dark and somber. “Yeah, pretty certain. I contacted him when I found my name on the internet. He told me I was on a secret mission and that I disappeared two days ago. Then he told me to head toward the pick-up point here.”

“Which you did.” Andre asked, “So where’s the betrayal in that?”

Sam swallowed. “There wasn’t one. Until about fifteen minutes after I got off the phone, a couple of Russians attacked me. What’s more, on my way here, Tom Bower tried to kill me.”

Andre’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. “Okay. I’d better make a phone call. Let the team know back at the Pentagon. Have a rest. God knows you’ve earned it.”

Sam rested back into the canvas seat. His mind numbly listening to the drone of the aircraft’s four Pratt & Whitney F117-PW-100 turbofan engines.

The hours came and went. He rested intermittently. Not quite awake. Not quite asleep. His body and mind slowly recharging. There was no telling when he’d get to rest once they had touched down in Washington.

He closed his eyes.

And then opened them again.

Because in the primal part of his brain, he heard a sound that didn’t seem to fit the picture. Somewhere up front, he heard the sound of bolts being fed into a weapon.

Chapter Forty-One

Sam stood up.

A single glance at Andre and he knew something had changed. Gone was the Mr. Nice-guy routine, in its place, was something hard and unforgiving. His eyes were like a predator’s, hard and piercing.

All bets were off now.

The remaining members of the specialist force moved in from where they had been working in the small cabin behind the cockpit. Sam took them in with a glance. They looked like a deadly unit. Including Andre, they were a team of seven mercenaries, poached from the best elite specialist forces from around the world. Every one of them worshiping the god of power, loyal to the highest bidder instead of country, duty, and honor.

Sam noted none of them had their weapons drawn. They didn’t need to. By sheer numbers they held command of the situation. He thought back to the Makarov semiautomatic handgun. There were just two rounds remaining in the chamber. Even if he got lucky, that still left five — which meant he had no chance.

“Where’s the tape?” Andre asked, his voice steely.

Sam opened his palms outward. “What tape?”

“You were carrying a secret message on an old Betamax tape.”

Sam’s lips twisted with wry incredulity. “Ah… that tape. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m carrying that?”

Andre’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what was on the tape?”

“No. As you can imagine, it’s pretty hard to find a Betamax player, so all I know is that I was carrying one. You got any ideas?”