Chapter 3

Posted: August 24, 2006 - 11:37:55 pm

I groaned out loud as I stretched my muscles. Ahh, that felt good.

The ninety-day school that Homeland Security (or "HS", as I liked to call it) provided, had been a shock, but it had been interesting, too. Most of the other students had been at least five years older than I. Most were even older than that, and many were lawyers, of all things. They were taking a lot of different courses more than I was. My days had been filled from five AM until about three thirty or four in the afternoons.

From five to six thirty was my personal self defense class, which HS insisted I take. I hated it at first. Ten minutes of stretching out muscles, and then a short run of a mile. After that, there was more stretching to get my leg and other major muscle groups loose enough to do what my trainer wanted. The first three weeks I was a constant 'walking cramp', it seemed. Then, wonder of wonders, I started to like the training. When I loosened up and at the end of the training session in the mornings, I felt energized!

I would never be a Bruce Lee or a Chuck Norris, but I could escape or break most holds now, and then I was supposed to go to plan B... run like hell, to get away from whomever. I had also learned some strikes to use in 'emergency only' situations, that I hoped I would never have to use. They were deadly, and I had no great control over them.

From six thirty to eight I was on my own, for showering and breakfast. Then it was off to classes. Some of these I had with other people, but a lot of them I had by myself. Strangest school I had ever been through in my life. Most of my classes ended at three, but some ran until four.

Still, at the end, I felt more confident in myself, and my trust in my government did go up a notch. The legal instructors cautioned us time and again that the Patriot Act was a temporary measure that would come to an end eventually. Our accountability was important in all our actions. Retribution would be swift if it were found that an agent had misused his new authority in any way.

I still harbored a grudge against my government for their highhanded drafting of me because of my abilities, but at least I wasn't as terrified as I had been before. While I had been doing the training, the government had set me up to be paid twice a month. The first thing I noticed, when my first direct deposit hit my account, was that I did not have two thousand dollars. It was only almost sixteen hundred. I had climbed to a new tax bracket!

At the end of the month I received a copy of my wage statement, and I goggled at the taxes being taken out. The government had its hand out, and they went deep into your pocket, apparently with glee! Still, I had money now, and it quickly piled up during my training time.

After I completed the required courses, I kept up with my stretching and running. I religiously practiced what I was taught everyday to make it, 'second nature', as my instructor had constantly drilled into me.

"Act, and react; don't think!" he had said, over and over.

Apparently thinking was something to do when I was escaping, if it got that far.

I moved into the St. Louis county area. It was close to home, and was very close to the federal building downtown. I would be working there a lot. There was also a facility out in the county I spent two days out of the week at. That place was less well known. I had a lot of scientific testing performed on my body and mind, there. Some of it was very annoying, to say the least.

I now had my own apartment. I was paying mom and dad back some of the money I owed them, also. I had money left over, even after my splurges! What an amazing feeling and set of circumstances to be in. I had money in the bank, an apartment of my own, health insurance, and dad was talking to me about investments of all things. Who thinks of investments at age 20?

Eric Patterson, the original agent assigned to my case, was now partnered with me. HS broke their agents down into teams. A team could be two or more, depending on the job, but was never just one. Most of the strong-arm stuff inside the US, was handled by the FBI. Foreign operations was the CIA's bailiwick.

I started in on finding terrorists for my bosses almost right away, after my training. I was told to take a few days off, to relax and unwind from the school. I was to be at work bright and early Monday morning. That had been almost three months ago, and I was feeling like one of the team, now.

I usually went to the employee's cafeteria in the federal building, for lunch. Sometimes, Eric and I went out, as our lunch hours were flexible. There were several good places in downtown St. Louis to eat at.

Conversation out of the office was generic and generalized, so as not to break security protocols. Right now, we were talking about the baseball Cardinals chances of winning the series this year. They were slipping in their front place league standing, and I was a long time fan. The St. Louis Rams football team was not doing well in the pre-season, either.

"You need to follow a team that has potential. Now, Pittsburgh," Eric started, but was quickly booed into silence.

After eating and returning to the federal building, I was given a photo to look at of a guy named Vassily Mohorovicic. Well, that's who they said it was. It had been taken from a satellite, and I was unable to make out his features. I passed the photo back.

"Impossible. I can't get a fix on this guy with that photo," I told them.

"What do you mean? It's the latest photo of him," agent smith of the CIA told me.

"I mean there is no definition to his facial features. Hell, there are no facial features! I need to be able to see the clear features of a person face to do this. You can't just hand a shitty photo to me and expect me to tell you about him, and where he is!" I almost screamed at him.

I had been over this and covered this very same ground last week with the testers at the county facility. Don't they fucking pass anything on to the others?

"You want information? Dial operator assistance in Moscow, for all I care. I need something for my brain to fix on, not generalities. Don't your bosses tell you anything? That picture could have been one of millions of people! Nothing stands out that lets me key in, anywhere," I finished sourly.

Everyone stared at me. They were not used to me going off apparently. Well, they would adjust.

"Scott, calm down. There is no reason to get frustrated or take your anger out on agent Smith. He has been the soul of courtesy, and I am sure he didn't mean to offend," Eric said glancing at Smith, who nodded in return.

"Ok, maybe I am overreacting. I need a break. I'll see you tomorrow at eight thirty. I'm going home," I said, and walked out before anyone could say anything more.

Ok, I had been getting tense at work this past month or so, but all this poking and prodding I went through every damned week was getting to me. The damned science Johnnies were always at me. They would nit pick at one thing, then take a different idea apart, until my head felt like it would explode.

I was scheduled for another bout of working while doing an MRI, which is loud and annoying to say the least. But they were trying to map out what part of my brain was doing what. The only way to do that was actually see my talent working actively, apparently.

Another thing that was getting to me, was my pay. While they had said five thousand dollars a month, this was not a salary, but a consultation fee. I was told to list "consultant", when I filled out my taxes as job. Also I could say I was a consultant for the government, but not that I was working for Homeland Security.

Ok, if I were consulting, then I should be getting my fee for each successful location of my target. But they were paying me this five thousand as a monthly salary, or so it seemed to me.

So when I left work, I headed to my attorneys office. Maybe she could get it straightened out for me. After all, the government was offering millions for a lot of these same terrorists that I was identifying for a seemingly paltry fee.

I had a brief wait once I got to my attorney's office, for Elisabeth to get free. She said I could have five minutes, and that was that. I explained my thoughts about my pay schedule as a "consultant", versus the reward amounts the US offered for information leading to the capture of other terrorist suspects of equal stature. I thought I should be getting paid for each location I gave the government. I wasn't greedy, just wanted a better deal with this consultation thing. As it was, I was being paid only five thousand a month. While very good money, I thought I was being swindled by the very people who had forced me to work for them, to begin with. She said she would look into it, and would get back to me in the next day or two, at my home number.

I left her office, feeling better. I decided to eat out this evening. I still had dishes to buy and a table. After I ate, I went to Sears, and bought a four place setting. This included coffee urn, sugar bowl and creamer, serving platter, and the plates and accompanying silverware. It was a bit pricey at a little over three hundred dollars, but I wanted quality.

Then I bought some really cheap stuff for everyday use. I still had to invite Mom and Dad up to my new place. I planned on providing them with at least a home cooked meal. I stopped by the Goodwill store, and found a nice little used table with chairs. The table went for fifty dollars, and the four matching chairs were ten dollars apiece. I now had a table!

Next day was a relatively short day at the facility in the county. I actively operated my talent, and they took blood samples simultaneously from both my arms. Trying to see if anything was released into my bloodstream somehow, I guess.

I had a new head of research, a Dr. Babcock. He was as excited as a kid at Christmas, over me.

"Scott, you have the most amazing ability I have ever had the good fortunate to study. The things we are finding out about you is phenomenal. Do you know what you do? Your mind acts as a huge computer. It seems to shift through every person on the planet at a fantastic rate of speed, in order to find the persons as you do!

"It is totally unheard of. You are even quicker if we narrow the search down to a specific area. It's like you plug into that areas population and scan them almost instantly. When we told you to locate someone, and didn't give you any specific location, it took you longer to locate them. So far twenty minutes is the longest time for a find, and that was when we had told you Iran, and you found him for us in Brazil. He had totally slipped under the radar, there. We tell you Italy; and, pow, you go to Italy. Same for any other country.

"Your brain function has the neurological team going crazy! The part of the brain that does this, has been long thought to be dormant, and no function has ever been noted; but now, we can associate it with your paranormal ability, at the very least!" he said. The good Doctor was almost simpering, in his excitement.

"I was reviewing my notes, and I can't find anything about when this ability of yours started, or when you discovered it. Could you tell me if there was a catalyst, or how you stumbled onto this thing you do?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Sure doc. I remember it pretty well. I was twelve at the time. It was after a football game at the park. I had just gotten home and was lying on my bed, beat from the pick up game I had been playing. Anyway, I swear I could hear my grandma calling me. Well, I had just been through the house. Dad and Mom had not said a thing about Grandma being there.

"But I started thinking about her. I closed my eyes, just resting, and then it was like I was in the car with her! She had had an accident and was off the road, and when I called to her, she didn't hear me. She was awake and in pain, but seemed like she couldn't hear me or see me. I couldn't touch her.

"I got up and ran to Dad screaming that grandma was in trouble. Both Mom and Dad decided that I must have fallen asleep and dreamed it. About an hour later, uncle Mike called telling us Grandma had had an accident and was not expected to make it. She was at the county hospital. We should come if we wanted to see her before she passed away. We didn't make it," I finished sadly.

"I'm sorry. It was not your fault, though. You can't possibly be blaming yourself over that," Babcock responded.

"I know. Unheard of ability, and no, no one blames me. Still, I feel that Grandma had called out for help and I failed her. Maybe if I could have gotten Dad to believe me or..." I trailed off.

"Those thoughts are non productive and lead to recriminations and guilt. Don't be stupid. You were a child and thought and acted as a child does. No one can be blamed for their actions at your house, from what you have told me. Forgive yourself," Dr. Babcock told me.

I nodded, and left for the day, still feeling a bit worn emotionally. Every time I thought of my grandmother, I felt guilt all over again.

After I got home, I called and talked to Mom. I asked the usual benign crap, then invited them up for a brief visit. They agreed, and said they would come up on Friday of next week. We would make a weekend of it! I felt much better after that call was over. I was determined to cook them something while they were here, so I went grocery shopping.