My Second Murderer free porn video

My Second Murderer By Emma Smith Saturday, 25 January 2003 The characters, events and organisations in this story are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or organisations is coincidental and unintended. The Characters Eva Westlake Flight Commander, INC Air Force Colin Wirth Public Defender, EurPact Karen Solomon INC Consular Official Esta Ochman EurPact Intelligence, Section Head and member of Security Council Don Pallen EurPact Intelligence, Senior Agent Walther Stewart Doctor, Neurosurgeon Part 1 - The Absent Self Chapter 1 Eva I have never been so disoriented and afraid as when I woke up this morning. I don't know where I expected to find myself. I certainly didn't expect to be inside a small prison cell. I'm sure this isn't where I should be. There must be some mistake. I have no idea why I'm here or whether I was here yesterday. Pretty much everything seems to be a blank. I try to think but find it's like grasping at fog. I can't think straight at all. I seem to remember something about an aircraft but it's no good. It's eluding me totally. I turned my attention to my surroundings, definitely a cell. It's small and rectangular. The furniture is sparse. There's just the bed I'm laying on, washing facilities and a small desk. The walls and ceiling are a stark white. A bare light bulb provides a harsh illumination. It seems clean though, at least. It's also warm. I struggle with my mind for about half an hour. I make little progress at working out my identity. I can't even remember my name properly. A couple of times I thought I had it but it keeps disappearing into the fog. I have a very strong feeling that I'm in big trouble. If only I knew why. I hear footsteps outside the door, but they carry on past and fade away. Some minutes later I hear them again. This time they stop right outside. The door to the cell opens with a clang. I watch a bearded man in uniform stride into the cell. He glares at me. He is looking at me with distaste and I feel threatened. "Flight Commander?" "What?" "We are ready to detail the charges." "Charges? I don't know what you mean." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. Then he puffed himself up and began to make a legalistic speech. "Flight Commander Eva Westlake, INC Air Force. According to certain provisions within the revised Geneva Conventions I must officially inform you that you face formal indictment on war crimes charges. The charges will be filed within the next three days and will name you as the officer solely responsible for the incident." "Incident?" I feel all cold inside. This isn't right. I know it isn't He ignored me and continued formally, "Namely an out of combat zone air to ground missile attack resulting in extensive civilian casualties. This aforesaid action contravenes the articles governing this conflict lodged with the UN by both sides." "Attack? Casualties?" He still ignored me and continued in the same lecturing tone. "The INC have ceded jurisdiction to us and committed you for formal trial. They accept that your action not authorised and at your personal initiative. Under the convention you are therefore solely liable to the full penalties for the said action. The court will appoint a defence lawyer shortly to represent your interests. That is all." He finished his speech and continued to glare at me. I don't really know what it all means. I need to know more. "How can you just sit there?" He shouted. "Because I don't know what's happening to me. I can't believe all this. I don't know why I'm here." "Don't play games. You know all this perfectly well. You hit a civilian district. A hospital and school were in the kill zone. Hundreds of people died. Nearly all of them civilians; some of them were children." "What?" I screamed. "We had to disperse a mob outside the gates when they brought you here. Part of me wanted to throw you to them. But no, you'll face a trial. You'll get what's coming. You're the murderer. We have justice under law even for those that don't deserve it." He turned and stalked out. I shouted after him, "I really don't know what's going on." A guard slammed and locked the door, leaving me in silence. I try to dig through my memories and find out who I am. I remember an aircraft. I seem to think that I'm the pilot. It's a warplane from the displays I can picture. I can almost see the red glow of the weapon systems as we fly in towards the target. Then there's just blackness. I have a sick feeling inside. I'm starting to think that maybe I did it. I can remember being in the plane like he'd said. I can't remember what happened after that no matter how hard I try. Maybe I'm hiding the truth by suppressing the crime. I also have another set of feelings and these are stranger still. The name he used, Eva, didn't seem very familiar. I can't fully remember being this woman and I feel like I haven't always been her. That doesn't make any sense. The feeling is very odd. It plays up and down my spine. I doubt my own self now. What if I'm heading for madness to try and run away from guilt? I try to remember various things. My mother and my childhood are among them. I fail to get anything other than brief flashes. I can't seem to connect any of them together. It really does seem that my past life is a blank. Discouraged and exhausted by the effort, I decide to take a break from struggling to remember. I look at myself in the mirror and get no flash of recognition. I hadn't really expected to. I seem to be in my late twenties. My hair is short and blonde, styled in the easy to handle way a military woman might favour. My appearance gives me no clues to help me remember myself. They've left me some newspapers to read, carefully removing the front page on several of them. There was other war news in there and I read it carefully along with the rest of the articles. Things are going badly for them lately and the press is playing up to it. Nowadays wars are largely economic events, a flexing of muscles and power. They're fought on camera with highlight packages for the masses each evening. Those with the interest can call up play by play breakdowns on the net. You can also buy elaborate computer games that let you imagine you are taking part. In carefully designated combat zones skilled people try to kill each other. People still die; war hasn't changed that much. The rules just got tighter. Nobody wants to kill economically productive citizens these days. It's only the professionals that pay the ultimate price. Am I really a mass murderer? Am I a war criminal? I don't know. I really don't know. My own people have handed me over to the enemy. I'm too hot to handle and too easy to dispose of. I'm the scapegoat to limit the damage. They need to stop it reaching anyone further up the chain of command. Some things never change. Chapter 2 Eva I slept fitfully that night. My dreams were strange and disturbing. I kept running through my earlier thoughts about being in an aircraft. In my dreams I often seemed to be somebody else. I saw flashes where I thought I was a man, they were strong but none of my dreams were complete or coherent and I didn't know what they mean. Next day they led me from my cell to a small interview room to meet my lawyer for the first time. Colin introduced himself to me and shook my hand. He is a fairly small man, in his mid thirties. He seems to know what he is doing and has a careful way of speaking. That's good. With the amount of trouble I'm in I need someone competent to look out for me. He fiddled with his spectacles as we appraised each other. I guess I don't look like a cover girl. Prison doesn't help your appearance. I try to smile at least; he is on my side after all. "Ms. Westlake." "Hello. You can call me Eva." The name sounded wrong somehow, like I'd borrowed it from someone. Knowing yourself is such a basic thing. Losing that anchor is so disturbing. I feel the world has been pulled out from under me. "Fine. I have to tell you straight away that I didn't ask for this job. It could damage my career, whatever happens. Now I've got it I intend to do the best I can for you." "Thanks. I appreciate it." I tried to smile again. "Now, what can you tell me about the affair? The prosecution says you're an evil mass murderer. I assume you're disputing that?" "I can't remember. I can't remember anything. That's not all. This is the crazy bit! I can't remember who I am. I don't think I'm even me!" I know how this sounds as I say it. He's not going to believe me but I have to tell someone. It might as well be someone on my side. "Okay. I must say I don't think amnesia or insanity will play very well. This is a tribunal, not a criminal trial. The court can order some pretty harsh questioning and nobody is going to worry too much. You know there's been a mob outside?" "You think I'm lying or mad don't you?" "Well, in your position anyone would be tempted to claim amnesia. But I don't really know what to think." He paused and looked slightly embarrassed, "Who do you think you are?" "I don't know. I see flashes of things in dreams but I can't remember them properly." "Do you remember being in the plane?" "Yes, sort of. I can see displays and weapon indicators inside a plane." "Did you fire them?" "I don't know! I can't remember that!" "We're still in the pre-trial stages so there's a bit of hope. I'll put what you've said to the judge. I don't think she's going to take it very well. Some of the press has taken to calling you the Angel of Fire. It sounds more sinister in our language." "Charming. Is it going to be a fair trial?" "I hope so. If it gets political then anything could happen. Lots of people want it over quickly. Most of them just want you to be shot." For the first time I properly realised what's at stake. If the trial goes badly then the death penalty is a likely outcome. I shivered slightly and tried not to show how shaken I am by the thought of my death. "I hope you'll be able to stop that." I told him. I was escorted back to my cell. Talking to Colin had helped me I think, in my feelings if not my defence case. I'd warmed to him a little and I felt better than I had before. I still keep straining to remember but I can never get past the things I already know. I can see the controls of the plane and the displays. I hear a voice. I think it's my voice, but much deeper. It orders our flight to make the attack run. I hear an alarm and a damage warning. Then everything blacks out. Every time I try to remember I hit the same wall. Everything seems clear up to a point, then it fades right out. By really concentrating I can pick out more details and recollect more sensory impressions but I can't get past the wall of blackness. Chapter 3 Don I walked very quickly down the corridor, trying to collect my thoughts and not get myself too nervous. I've been called in to see the head of our section and I need to report there quickly. It might be connected with the case of the moment. This could be a lucky break for me. The secretary glances at me briefly and tells me to go in. I close the door behind me gently and turn to make eye contact with the woman I see sitting behind the plain and functional desk. "You sent for me Director?" I asked her nervously. "Yes Mr. Pallen." I looked at her. She has a reputation as a hard woman but I've always found her to be a fair boss. As fair as anybody in the secret intelligence services can be expected to be. Nobody knows how many executions she's ordered or how many bodies she's had sent to unmarked graves. She is not a good woman to disappoint. "The trial. I'm assigning you to the case. You are relieved of all other tasks." "Yes Ma'am!" "You will make sure there are no complications and no interference. You will report everything directly to me." "Yes Ma'am!" "You may relax, a little, Mr. Pallen. I am giving you this assignment because of your previous good work. I expect you to handle it in the same efficient manner." "May I ask a question?" "Yes?" "Do we expect trouble with this case?" "It is becoming political. The INC handed her over very quickly. That's suspicious and many people are asking why. They could be playing some sort of game." "You think I should watch out for their agents?" I asked her. "If they're plotting something then I expect you to stop it, whatever it is." "I will do my best." "Yes. Please do." She dismissed me with a brief nod. I left and headed over to establish myself somewhere near the court. I've been assigned a cover as a minor functionary there. I'm quite pleased to have got this assignment but I can't help worrying about it as well. She's right about one thing. The woman had been handed over to us within two hours of the attack run. I can't remember anything like it before. Normally there's a long ritual of claims and denials before anything happens. Usually they stall the exchange and time it so the press coverage can be minimised. This time they practically gift wrapped her and dropped her off at the embassy. The media coverage was massive. Most of it said she must be guilty. Some of the more rabid papers suggested saving the cost of the trial by means of a quick bullet. INC Command claims to be outraged by her actions. They say she's a maverick, desperate to hit EurPact at any cost because of some personal obsession. She had a mental aberration and she fired on the civilian area deliberately. That doesn't make sense to me. You don't put crazy people at the controls of hugely expensive aircraft. You don't make them leaders of strike teams. She's been in their air force for years. Routine tests would have weeded out anybody that crazy long ago. I studied her file, also helpfully provided to us. She has a pretty spotless record and has been decorated twice. She hardly seems like the kind of person to start lobbing missiles around indiscriminately. Her photograph stares at me from the page. As in most official pictures she wasn't smiling when it was taken. I think her expression might be similar at the moment, or maybe worse. From what I hear she's claiming amnesia. Well, that's not going to save her. She'll need to do better than that to dodge the bullets from a firing squad. I detail a couple of men to make inquiries about the incident and her background outside of the military. Perhaps if we have more data we can make better decisions about the case. Chapter 4 Eva Once again I am led to the interview room. I wonder how many other cells are occupied, as I must have to march past hundreds on my little journey. I didn't see another person; they're keeping me isolated from the rest of the prisoners. Maybe they think my madness will contaminate them. "Eva." "Yes?" "They aren't buying your amnesia. I managed to avoid the extreme measures for the moment. They're going to give you a number of medical tests though. There's nothing I could do to stop that." "I don't mind that really. Maybe they'll find out what's wrong with me. I want to know." "Have you been dreaming again?" "Yes, I keep reliving a bad experience. I'm not sure I know how to fly a plane but I dream that I am doing. Then it blacks out, just before something important happens. It's the same every time." "Is that all you dream about?" "I dream I'm someone else, a man. In the aircraft dream I'm him too. When I dream I'm hardly ever like this." I pointed at myself. I still sound insane when I try to explain it but how else can I do it? "I don't know what to suggest. I'm no expert but maybe you're having some sort of breakdown?" That afternoon they led me off to the medical wing of the prison. First I had to talk to a psychiatrist. He made me do some tests and then asked me a lot of questions. I couldn't answer many of them, no matter how many times he asked. His repeated questioning of my dream about the aircraft did bring about one success. I could remember a couple of snatches of dialogue. "Ghost Leader, Ghost Two and Three commence your attack run." These were the words spoken by the person I am in the dream to start the attack. Eventually he finished his questioning, having learnt little. I started to tire of it when I knew there were going to be no more revelations. Now we would move onto a physical examination. They'd told me they were going to do a routine brain scan. A specialist doctor had been brought in from outside and he treated me courteously, if clinically. I've not seen may people in the last few days so I welcomed our meeting. I'd normally be apprehensive about medical people and what they might do. He gave me a very large battery of tests and they ran me through some impressive equipment. It made a powerful humming sound, as I lay motionless on the table attached to it. While it hummed my skin felt prickly, like pins and needles. I think it's my imagination. You can't feel anything from these things really. Somehow I know I've been in one of these scanners before. I know I have. I can't picture when though. It's a returning memory, leaking through the fog. For a second I see the white-coated figure nearby replaced by that of a soldier with a rifle. Then the hallucination passes and I see normally again. It's odd that it should happen now but seeing the machine may be what triggered it. There are other tests, most of them more familiar and low tech than the gleaming scanner. I bear them all stoically. I really do need to know if there's something wrong with me. I hope they can find an answer. After the medical they told me I had a visitor. I thought it would be to see my defender again but a young woman walked into the room. She wears a smart business suit and carries a small leather pouch. "Ms. Westlake. I'm Karen Solomon. I work at the INC Embassy." "Fine." "Are you being properly treated?" "I have no complaints, except I don't know who I am or why I'm here." "Ah." "You could at least sound surprised." "Well, they told me you were suffering from amnesia." "Why was I handed over?" "You exceeded your authority. You committed some terrible crimes. You gave us no choice." We talked for about half an hour. She tried very hard to give the impression of concern about my welfare but I'm not convinced by it all. "Naturally the embassy will be happy to assist in your defence if you need us. Good luck." "Thanks for coming to see me. I appreciate it." I lied. Before I went to sleep that night a little of the fog in my head rolled back. A few extra memories jumped into focus. They didn't seem like my memories. They seem more like a message that has been planted in my head. I summarised my findings. "You are an agent for the INC and are acting under orders. You are on a vital mission. You may be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice in time of war. Do not believe anything that the enemy claims. Your mission was to strike at a covert military facility. Be strong and remember your loyalty to our cause." After this puzzling episode I slept. For once I didn't dream. *** INC Encrypted Transmission From: K. Solomon, Special Ops To: INC Special Operations Command. Division #3 Via: Direct Satellite Link. Code Sequence: Blue Six Sir, The plan continues to proceed. Operative is confused and unaware of true identity. The enemy does not appear to suspect our operation. At present subject is in isolation and is unable to complete the programmed mission. Will try to arrange contact between the subject and the target. I accept our mistake and will make sure it is handled. We did not expect the death penalty to be so strongly pressed. Should we fail to put the two in proximity or the subject fails to terminate the target we may need to influence the trial. Dossier on trial judge is complete. K.S. Chapter 5 Don I went to see the doctor soon after the tests were complete and showed him my papers. He went white and looked very frightened. "There is no need to worry Doctor Stewart. I just need to know what you've found." He looked very uncomfortable. "I have found something I can't explain. I almost missed it. It shouldn't be there." "Tell me everything Doctor." "Well all our original NMR scans were completely normal. Then I did a second set using the more sensitive equipment we brought with us. We still found nothing. Because I had the time I decided to try some of my new experimental imaging techniques. We found something disturbing with them and I can't explain it." "Go on." I looked at the doctor intently. "There is a small object in her head, it might be some sort of implant. It's in the frontal lobe region but there seems to be a connecting web of microfilaments to other parts of the brain. It's thought that this area of the brain is the main personality centre." "My God!" I muttered. "It's beyond what we can build, maybe by ten years or more. According to the literature and all my experience it's not possible." "You have done well Doctor." I reassured him. "The device is some sort of crystal matter, not metal. It shouldn't have been detectable, I was very lucky to find it." He looked at me sadly. "Or maybe I was unlucky." "That remains to be seen. Can it be removed?" "We've no idea how it got there and none on how to remove it. I can guarantee that the attempt would be fatal." "Do you really think its possible? That she's not mad?" "That it's not her mind in that body? It shouldn't be possible, as I've said before." "But it might have been done?" He nodded. "That device is there for a reason." "And you are the only person who can detect these things? That gives both of us a problem." "At the moment, yes." He looked down at the floor. "Very good. We'll have to scan all our people with access to anything sensitive, and under a good cover story. You will shortly be joining the army. Don't look so upset. The alternative is much worse." "Yes. I will do as you ask." He said. "Oh, and none of what you've just told me will be in your report. Is that clear? You didn't find anything unusual." "No. Everything was normal." He handed me several pieces of paper. They had the details of his strange findings carefully written on them. "Excellent." I said. Chapter 6 Eva I spent another fitful night, alternately reliving the nightmare and dreaming I'm in someone's arms. When we have sex I don't know which of us I am. It's all extremely confusing. Once again I learnt nothing and can't remember anything more. The next day they take me to see my lawyer again. He seems very nervous, like he has something he doesn't want to tell me. As I sit down he keeps looking around furtively. He drops a file onto the table in front of me. "Read it." "Why?" I asked. "You'll see." It's a file on a woman from a small town in America. Her name is Eleanor and she had been a teacher. One day she'd taken a knife into school and cut up one of the kids. The kid survived, though with terrible injuries. There'd been a short trial and she'd received a death sentence. "So?" I asked. "This is her." He dropped a photograph onto the table. It's a photo of me! But it can't be. "Finding all this out hasn't been easy. There is no Eva Westlake in the INC military and it looks like there never has been. There was a Paul Westlake, attached to Special Operations in the Air Force. This woman didn't have any combat training and definitely wasn't a pilot." "How is this possible?" "I don't know. I have more information, equally disturbing. We managed to ferret out some of the logs of your attack run. We had to go to some dark sources. Money talks on the net. None of this is really admissible in court." "Do I want to know this?" "Maybe. A missile came near the plane they say you piloted but it missed. Then the plane exploded. Looks like a self- destruct. It's very clear from the playback." "I don't remember it." "Maybe your own people did it for you." "They killed me?" "The plane blew up, and the pilot didn't eject. Nobody could have survived. It seems you may be dead." "Dead?" "Yes, and I know too much. This is political, like I said. My life is in danger now." He threw me a very concerned look. I can tell he's a frightened man. "And now your side is going to kill me again." I asked him. "I don't see how we can stop them." After the interview all kinds of thoughts and questions flew around in my head. I'm here now in this body, which should have been executed. My male self should have been killed in mid air. Am I really this woman? I don't see how I can be. If I'm not then how did I get here? Maybe it's a result of the conversation but my next dream shows me slightly more. I can see the target indicators glowing in the display as I stare at it. They light up amber as we approach the firing point. I hear myself order the attack run. I hear a calm female voice announce a major systems failure. Then it blacks out. I sleep fitfully but no more dreams come to me. I keep going over what I know. It isn't much. I woke early, before the bell sounded to tell everybody to get out of bed. I'm starting to get used to the routine now. Every day is the same. I get woken early and fed. Then there is a brief exercise period. They keep me away from all the other prisoners and I have to run round and round the small yard in silence. If I don't have a meeting with my lawyer then there's nothing to do until lunch. The afternoon then stretches in front of me, emptily. I have some books now at least and it helps to pass the time. I try not to think that I may not have that much time left to pass. This afternoon I was taken back to see my lawyer. He had some more questions for me. He produced a small metallic object from his case and put it down in front of me. "What is that?" He asked. "It's the ground maintenance key for the fighter series I fly. The technicians lock it in before they start work. It disables the weapons among other things." "Hmm." He produced a book; I recognised it as a flight operations manual, easy enough to obtain I suppose. "Can you tell me the checklist for that aircraft?" "Certainly. Check gear is locked down. Check master arm set to safety. Engage power systems. Engage generators. Flight controls check. Activate engine instruments. Check fuel. Set main de-icing switch to off position. Parking brakes set..." I stopped. "Shall I carry on?" "No that's fine. You definitely know all this." We spent another fifteen minutes going over various technical matters. It seems that I do know all about flying these planes. This means I am a pilot and probably an air force officer. But if that's true then I can't be this woman, according to what he'd told me this morning. It seems like everything I learn makes me more confused about myself. "OkAY then. Describe how you'd make an attack run." He asked. "I'm not sure I should." "Nothing classified. Just the basics." "Mostly automatic. You designate the target; the computer gives you steering cues to the release point. When you are about to cross the release point you hold down the permission to fire button and the weapons are dropped on cue." "But they could be fired manually? At any time?" "Yes. That doesn't help me." He looked thoughtful. "Suppose you designate a target and it's out of the kill zone. What happens then? "It flashes and won't lock." "Aha!" "But there's an override for emergencies. There has to be." "Damn," He said. "I thought that might be something." "No. I'm afraid not." "You realise we have to try and prove you innocent of this? Anything less and they're going to hang you out to dry." "I don't see how to do it. I still can't remember anything useful." "I know. I'm afraid I don't have the answer either." Chapter 7 Colin After our long conversation I went through all the papers I have and sat in thought for some time. It seems to me that both sides are using her. Normally I soon get a good feeling if someone I'm defending is guilty. This time I have no idea. My instincts seem to be useless. It's possible her own people set her up to take the fall. Now our people are using her to make political capital against the other side. On the other hand she could be guilty. She might be truly amnesiac or a clever liar trying to hide behind forgetfulness. I don't think she's lying though. She seems too uncertain of herself. I've met lots of liars. They always have ready answers for things. She doesn't have an answer for anything. If she can't remember if she is guilty then what if her wild theory is right? If she wasn't in that body at the time then if her mind is guilty does that mean this body should be punished and put to death. Law school never prepared me for this. I drew up a list of some possible options, some fairly outlandish. I think I'll run through them with her tomorrow. When I went to get some papers from my safe the dial wasn't set where I left it. I wonder if my visitor had got the safe open. There are no other signs of tampering and there's nothing missing. The Secret Police could probably open it easily. Would they give themselves away like that? This case is starting to get to me. It started off with political implications. Then it got weird. Now it's turning frightening. If the police are poking around then something bad can easily happen to me. Fortunately I kept had the dossier on the American woman with me this morning. I know I should shred it to avoid incriminating myself. What if it turns out to be the vital piece of evidence that saves my client from the death penalty? Revealing this file could land me in the same situation as her. They probably won't even bother with a trial. A tragic little accident when the press interest fades will do. I decide I must keep it. I won't be doing my job properly if I destroy it. I'm pleased to find that I still have some idealism left in me. Chapter 8 Don I've been spending a lot of time working on the case and my body is complaining about lack of sleep. I try to keep working a bit longer. From the information we've stolen I know she's not going to go into court and plead guilty. She isn't going to plead amnesia either. That would be almost as good for us. Nobody would believe her and she'd be convicted. It would end quietly for her, and us. I ruefully realised that it doesn't matter whether her story is true. If she plans to stick with this defence we can't let her present it in the open. That will tell the enemy we know they have this new secret process. They must have something; the technology hidden in her head far exceeds what we can do. It can't all be a trick, even if she's lying. This is big. If the INC really has some form of mind transfer process then our intelligence agencies and elaborate security precautions can all be blown apart with ease. Though it won't work if the process destroys or disables the original mind when the new one is imposed. There's no way that someone can function at a high level in any covert organisation without access to a large amount of detailed information. If they have that information already then they've broken our security before, rendering this pointless. I wonder if it's a double bluff. They want us to believe our security has been compromised and start a witch-hunt, spreading paranoia. It seems too elaborate for that and we certainly won't panic. Our response will be very careful. We'll have people brought in for an anti viral screening programme. We can make up a good story, part of our job is telling plausible lies. I don't add any further layers of speculation. I can't get my head around a triple bluff when I'm this tired. I'm getting paranoid. Sooner or later the threads will be unpicked and the truth will out. Then we'll bury it in a secret file and move on. If the screening finds anything suspicious then we'll isolate the person for more 'tests' and leak a rumour about an enemy war virus. That will have everyone else scrambling to be tested. My reports to the Director have included all my thinking on the case, even the speculation. I don't dare hold anything back because she probably has someone spying on me. Her response so far has been an enigmatic silence. I don't like it; there's too many ways this can blow up on me. If it does then I need her backing to have any chance of survival. We have to get the woman to retract her wild story or not appear in court. The trial can't be stopped; it's too high profile for that. The other side doesn't want her story revealed either so maybe we can leak what's going on to one of their agents. That might get them to clean up after themselves and get me out of this hole. The key to this is if she has memories of her previous life. But no, I thought. That proves nothing. If they are present they might be fake and if they are absent they could have been suppressed. She doesn't really seem know who she is and I have no way of proving it. At some point you have to depend on records. You have to believe that a piece of paper is telling the truth and refers to the person in front of you. Computer records are no better. It doesn't help if many levels of ciphers and codes are wrapped round the data. Was it true in the first place and who put it there? Has it been tampered with since? In the end it's all down to trust. When you play games like ours you don't do that easily. Chapter 9 Eva Next day my legal advisor arranged another interview. For a winter morning the weather is very pleasant. I savoured my few moments in the fresh air on the way to the meeting room. "Good morning Eva." He took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Good morning." I smiled at him. After all our meetings we get on well now. "I'd like to go through a few things with you. I have some theories." He set out his stall, starting with the most plausible ideas and leading up to the weirdest. When I thought he'd finished I noticed he was still sitting there quietly. "What's the other one? The one you're keeping back?" I asked him. "No, it's not possible." "Try me." I said, firmly. "Okay. How about this then? Our side is up to something secret and illegal in a non-combat area. Your side finds out and badly wants to hit it. They don't want us to know that they know." "I see." "So they get you to fly near the area. They set up an attack run. Just before it gets carried out they pull your mind out of your body via some secret technology and transmit it elsewhere. Then the plane systems are told to change target, fire the weapons and self destruct." "Sounds wacky." "It gets better. Then they need a scapegoat and they have this woman handy who's about to be executed so they somehow put your mind in her body, fake your records and hand you over." "Brilliant. Utterly mad, but brilliant. Why go to all the trouble?" "Firstly these people don't think straight. If a plan doesn't have about eight layers they won't touch it. Secondly they put you in a state where you can't remember anything. You're an ideal scapegoat. You don't know if you're innocent and you definitely can't prove it. You're also in a very vulnerable and confused frame of mind." "And if I start to protest I'm not myself?" He almost had me believing it now. "Nobody believes you. You get convicted and put to death. It all ends quietly." "Murdered twice? Once by each side?" "Not a distinction to be treasured," He smiled thoughtfully. "There's a problem though." "How can we prove any of this?" "I don't know that yet. I have some documents." "The minute you produce them you're dead too." I told him. "I've thought about that. I've thought about something else. If your people have this technology this might not be its first outing." He tried to steady himself. "You mean our side might have a spy here to make sure this goes off as planned?" "It's the way they think. Someone is on to me." "Who?" I asked him eagerly. "I don't know. He didn't leave a card when he burgled my office." "Look, why don't you drop the case? They're going to shoot me anyway. May as well save yourself." "I promised I'd do a good job for you. I meant it. I can't back out now." "Very noble. Have you got any ideas?" "I'm working on it. I talked to the prosecution. They won't take a deal for a guilty plea. They think they're going to win and they've got an eye on public opinion." "So I'm dead then?" "Maybe not. If I can get through to the security people behind them then they might make a deal. Would you plead guilty if it keeps you alive?" "I don't know. I have to think." "Okay. I'll get back to you as soon as I have any news." Chapter 10 Colin I set a trap for the watcher tonight. I made sure my secretary and those around me know I've put important case papers in my safe. Then I tell them all I'm leaving early. I drive around the town for a while until everyone will have gone home. Then I drive back to my office and let myself in quietly. I've never been cut out for cloak and dagger work and most of my legal career hasn't required it. Sometimes I've had to deal with people and situations I'd rather not have faced. It didn't stop me being frightened tonight. My visitor could easily be a Government or enemy agent. I sat down at my desk, put a bottle and gun on the table and started my vigil. Waiting soon gets boring. I can't risk a light to read by. For a long time I think nothing will happen. I start to doze and several times bring myself back to alertness at a faint sound outside. I risk a small drink from the bottle. I don't want to get drunk but think the occasional sip won't hurt. At about four in the morning I hear a scratching sound at the door. I move to the corner of the room, trying to be quiet. I pull back the hammer of the automatic pistol; it makes a soft click that sounds very loud to me in the stillness of the night. I let him get to the desk and start to open the drawers and rifle through them. Then I turn on the light and hit the ground. A gun roars and a bullet hits the wall behind me. It wasn't that well aimed. The light had blinded him but it wouldn't have missed by much if I'd not dived. I got up. "Okay, I'm covering you. Sit down. Put the gun down and put your hands on your head." I told him, trying to sound firm and commanding. "Cute. You've watched too many films. This isn't a game." "First question. Are you on our side or theirs?" "That depends on who you are. Can I take my hands down now?" "No. Leave them there. Who do you work for?" I knew not to trust him. "Would you believe I work for EurPact security?" "I might, got any proof?" "Can I move yet?" I nodded and he very slowly reached into his pocket and drew out a wallet. He dropped it on the table and put his hands back on his head. I carefully picked it up and tried to read it without taking my eyes off him. "This seems real enough. If you're lying I don't suppose it really matters?" "Why? You planning to ask the INC for asylum after you get your client killed?" He sneered. "I'm loyal enough. I need to talk to someone in security about the case. That's why I'm here." "Isn't this a little unorthodox?" "I don't have the right contacts and I knew someone was watching me. I didn't know if you were our security or the INC. You can take your hands down now." A knife appeared in his hands, seemingly from nowhere. It whistled past me and embedded itself in the wall. That's a close one. I freeze and fear turns my stomach over again. I hope he is going to talk and not just kill me. "Never relax like that when you think you have the advantage. Right, let's talk." I sat down and passed him the bottle. He took a small drink and passed it back. I took a very large gulp to calm my nerves; it nearly made me cough. I swallowed hard. "My client doesn't want to die. I don't either. We both want the same thing, a quiet trial. Let's do a deal." "There is a dossier that says she did it." "There's one showing she didn't." "There are data tapes showing she made the attack run." "There's a tape that shows she didn't." "There is plenty of evidence." "Look, you don't want us to present our case do you? It'll sound crazy and she'll go down but it will tip off the enemy. You lose out that way." "Suppose there's an accident?" He mused. "With every press outlet in the world camped out waiting for the trial?" I pointed out. He looked thoughtful. "What do you propose?" He said. "A guilty plea in exchange for commuting the death sentence." "Life imprisonment?" "It's better than a bullet. I want protection for myself too. I don't want any trouble. I don't care about all the power games you people play." "Maybe it's for the best. We can't study her properly if she's dead can we?" "Then you agree." "I will consider it. Obviously I have no influence over the court." I laughed. "No of course not. They never listen to the Secret Police." He stood up and left, without looking back at me. I had the gun on him the whole time. He's very sure of himself. Chapter 11 Eva Today they let me out of my cell for the first time to associate with other prisoners. I wonder about this change of mind but I'm not going to question it. I have the chance to get out of my small cell and eat in the canteen. I shovel down the bland fare while taking in the surroundings. To me it seems like the dining room of a big hotel. I've been out of circulation for too long. I'm unprepared for the noise and the people around me. Two guards are with me; they sit on either side of me and watch me as I eat. I try to block them out of my mind. The guards give me little opportunity to talk to anyone else. They scare away anyone who might have sat at my table and started a conversation. I'd managed to exchange a few words when I'd collected my food but that was about it. My mood is better, now that it seems I might have a way out. It's not easy to decide what to do though. More and more I feel that I'm innocent of the crime. I must say I did it to avoid being shot. My name will be in the news for weeks. I'll probably never be able to have a normal life again. On the way back to my cell we passed an open door in a high security area. It's the only one in a whole row of locked cells. Naturally I'm very curious. I stick my head inside it to see a man. One of my escorts moves in to stop me; he grabs my arm in warning. "That's our star prisoner, another one of your gang." "What's he here for?" I asked. "Stealing secrets. He's been co-operating though. Now he says he wants to defect." I look more closely at the man in the cell. He seems slightly familiar, or something about him does. I carry on looking closely for a while. He notices my gaze and stares back at me. I can't quite work out why I'm staring. A thought rises up in my mind, or maybe a memory. It blossoms quickly into something dark and evil. It consumes me. Something twists in my head. I hit the guard nearest me hard with a karate chop and charge into the cell. Part of me watches myself with horror. I hit the prisoner and knock him back. Then I grab him and start to twist his neck. Something in my head hurts, like it's burning. I exert more strength as rage fills me. I hear a voice lecturing me about combat technique. The watching part of me screams at me to stop and knows that soon I will kill this man. Only seconds have passed. Someone, I assume it's the second guard, hits me from behind and breaks my hold. I slam into the wall. Pain flares up inside me. I hit him twice and he staggers back. I haven't stopped him and he comes at me again. The other guard recovers and joins the fight. They both hold onto me. The one I hit punches me hard as I'm held down. The pain is unbearable. "Got her. Damn it!" "She's a wild one. Get a doctor, quickly!" "Is he alright?" "Hurt fairly bad but she didn't kill him." "I don't get it. She was just talking calmly and then she went berserk." Through my pain I think I know what has happened. It's yet another level of the game they'd dumped me in. They want this guy silenced, they arrange for me to meet up with him. I bet someone got some extra money this month. Then they know my conditioning will kick in and I'll kill him. The defector is silenced. I'm clearly guilty of a capital crime. They now have two chances to get me shot and safely out of the way. The game moves on. But it didn't work. I nearly killed him, but didn't quite do it. They've made me into a murderer. Possibly this body had already killed if I believe Colin. What else is in my head? What else can they make me do? Who am I really? The guards hit me again and I collapse. Chapter 12 Eva I'm still not happy about the deal but it's my only realistic chance of staying alive. What we've agreed is that we'll stick to the amnesia and mental imbalance defence. We'll present some faked up medical evidence about my disturbed state of mind. The prosecution will make a show of agreeing to drop their demand for the death penalty. There'll be a good deal of posturing and showmanship. Soon the press spotlight will move on and the mob will be directed somewhere else. At least this allows me to avoid lying. I really can't remember things about the attack. This is nothing but the truth. If I'm right I wasn't in the plane when then missiles were fired. So I'm really innocent. But I have to plead guilty in order not be killed again. I don't know why I'm so worried about lying on oath. Here are two sides that can't even have a full-scale war without lying and cheating about it. They both used me as a pawn. They're both as bad as each other. Why should I care about the truth? It doesn't help that I don't really know what it is. Colin has been very quiet about what will happen to me afterwards. He says it will be life imprisonment but there is something he doesn't want to tell me. He avoids making eye contact when we talk about my future. There's something unpleasant waiting there. I know there is. Neither side fully trusts the other. We're hanging on to the evidence until after the trial. If they don't keep their part of the bargain then we can 'discover' the data and present our original case. There should be no need for that. The fix is in at a high level with the people who matter. The trial will be starting soon. As far as everyone else is concerned justice is about to be done. We know better though. Part 2 - A Crystal Memory Chapter 13 Eva The trial went exactly as we expected. It's hardly surprising given it was all fixed. Within two weeks everything was over and I got sentenced to life in prison. The prosecution played it right up to the end. I almost thought the deal had been blown and I would be shot. The judge got pretty worked up in her closing speech. She went on for about fifteen minutes lecturing me on my evil. She said I should serve a minimum of twenty-five years for my horrific crime. Newspaper editors and crowds of angry people outside the prison have worse punishments in mind for me. The torrent of their angry words pretty much washes over me. They publish lists of victims with black borders. They scream that I shouldn't get off so easily. They lobbied ministers. None of it mattered to me. I still think I'm innocent. The concept of guilt is blurred so much by what's been done to me that I can't really be certain any more. There's no point in telling them it wasn't really me doing it. Also that maybe I'm not really me now. My EurPact captors seem to think they've done best out of the deal. They have me for study and experiment and the INC are unaware that they know about the thing in my head. After a couple of weeks my photograph stopped appearing on the news broadcasts and they found other stories to chase. One of them is the defector I'd tried to kill. It turns out he's changed his mind and they've swapped him back for another spy. It's tragically funny in a way. The more I contemplate how the two sides behave the more futile it all seems. They both treat people like disposable things. It's not as if you can opt out either. Camera eyes are everywhere and there are fewer places to hide all the time. After a further few weeks in a maximum-security prison they transferred me to this one. It has a hospital attached to it and I knew I was in for some unpleasant times as soon as I arrived. Getting away from here seems like an impossible dream. They still keep me away from contact with other people. No visitors are allowed and the only other people I see are guards and doctors. I've managed to strike up a small friendship with one of the guards, who treats me with courtesy. I think some of them know I attacked their colleagues in my original prison and are a little wary and hostile. I guess those around me have either been cleared and sworn to secrecy or are destined for early and violent retirement. I don't want to think about it. I'm not keeping them here. They started the interrogations gently. I bet they want to make sure the media interest has died down. They might need to produce me for propaganda purposes. It really chills me that they speak openly to each other in front of me. Most of them speak English and they must know they're telling me secrets. My life sentence may not last long if my usefulness ever comes to an end. They've poked and prodded me a good deal. I've had various physical and mental tests. I've been given all sorts of psychological questionnaires and exercises. A team of four doctors hangs around me. They try to get at the secrets I don't think I have. Some days I want to help them. I want to find out who I am. Other times I get depressed. There seems to be no point in going on. On these bad days I don't see a future for myself. I know I'll never get out of here. They won't let me go. My cell is a little better than the one I found myself in at the start of this nightmare. I now have access to some news and entertainment channels and a library. In some ways I'm now more like an experimental animal than a prisoner. I settled down to catch the end of the news. "INC command has vigorously rejected claims they are behind the recent terrorist outrages on EurPact territory. Only today a church was totally demolished by an explosion. Thirty worshippers were killed and many more injured. A spokesman for the Integrated Nations Coalition said it was a slanderous scare tactic and the Coalition will continue to fully observe the rules of war." I smile ruefully. Neither side gives a damn for any rules of anything. But they still pretend they do. I wonder if they believe their own propaganda. Truth is whatever they say it is, or are told it is. I can easily believe that EurPact blew up their own people to whip up hate against the enemy. "And now local news. A fire at a solicitor's office is still unexplained. Three fire engines are at the scene and it seems that the fire is now under control. No one was hurt in the blaze but extensive damage has been caused and the building may have to be demolished." I can guess whose office that is. If my lawyer had anything in the safe relating to my case then it's toast. I think he's got the sense to make copies of it though. I hope they won't go after him personally. He's one of the few people who've treated me well since all this started. I turned off the news. Once again it had given me things to ponder and it kept me from sleep for a while. Chapter 14 Don When the Director asked me to accompany her to a meeting I agreed immediately. Then she told me that I've been promoted, but not to celebrate. She could be right. None of the security high ups I've seen have looked happy. It goes with the territory. She led me to one of the highest security areas of the building; I've never been to this floor before. Guards stopped us seemingly every few seconds and checked our passes carefully. During the walk she didn't say anything to me. I didn't feel like being the one to break the silence either. We entered an air-conditioned room and sat down at the rectangular table. There are two other people there that I don't recognise. We sat in silence and over the next five minutes another six people joined the gathering. Then the doors closed and we were in session. If this group is the one I think it is then today is the most dangerous day of my life. It's also a big opportunity. The man standing by the screen has the aura of being in charge. He looks like exactly the kind of person you might expect to be leading this group. He crosses to the table and sits down. Nobody introduces each other or speaks to him. "Thank you all for coming today." He said, as if any of us had a choice. "The situation we face is grave. We have new and insidious threats on several fronts. You have all been screened for one of them recently." He nodded pointedly at me and then continued. "This man is joining our executive group as of today. The vacancy was created as a result of information he supplied. Our former colleague will not be able to join us again." Everyone looked around at each other. A few people shifted in their seats. "Now there is another threat. These are pictures of a new INC satellite. It has been placed in synchronous orbit above our territory." "What is it?" I found myself asking. Several people scowled at me. "Officially it's for climate research. We think it's a weapons platform. We've code named it Hammer." "Microwave?" "Probably not. The atmosphere would attenuate the beam unless it was ludicrously powerful." "Well then?" "Our scientists say it might be a charged particle beam. You may recall that in a lightning strike the first strike makes an ionised path for the main bolt. Two blasts, the first opens the way for the second. "My God!" "We always knew the INC had a superior technical capacity. This was only a matter of time." "What about the rules?" I spoke up again. "While it's a secret then it's not against the rules. When they fire it then it will be hard to conceal." "And then?" I pressed. "If it hits inside a combat zone they may get away with it. If it strikes outside then normally I'd say we go to an old style unrestricted hot war. Tell me what you think Mr Pallen." Everyone was staring at me now. They were testing me. I tried to think things through rapidly. "They fire the cannon without warning. It happens to hit a war zone bordering a civilian area and straddles the two. Everyone is confused and nobody knows what to believe. Maybe some of our Government officials even denounce others." "Good, and then?" He asked "Panic, riots and the downfall of the Government." "Correct. We've done a full analysis factoring in everything we know. Every scenario we ran ends with defeat. Most of them indicate minimal INC casualties. Some of them show a million plus people dead on our side. All from one triggering strike." "Is there nothing we can do?" Asked a woman opposite me. "One thing. But it is not to be done lightly. It is called N-70." There were horrified gasps from several people around the table. They're obviously in on another secret I'm not. "A powerful and deadly nerve gas. The factory recently escaped destruction at the hands of our rogue airwoman. Of course it can't have done because it doesn't exist and we don't have any chemical weapons." The penny drops. The factory was in an illegal place, building banned weapons. I put my head in my hands. Everything links to everything else. It's all madness and cheating. "We have to decide. Do we use it? Do we tell them that if they fire the cannon they are risking the lives of their own people?" I spoke up again. "If we use this weapon or if they use theirs then we tear up the rules, probably for good. No more safe and contained wars." "Back to unrestrained warfare like in the 20th Century. The alternatives at the moment are certain defeat." "Mass murder or suicide. They're not good choices." After a short pause he made a decision. "Our agents will deploy to the enemy capitals with N-70. They can always be recalled if the situation changes. We shall allow a data leak to reach their intelligence service. They might rein in their war machine." We sat in silence for a second, considering what we were proposing. Using banned weapons and the death of millions of enemy civilians. "This is the unanimous recommendation of the Executive Security Council. Unless anyone wants to disagree?" He stared directly at each of us in turn. Nobody had any arguments for him. "Good. Welcome to the ESC Mr Pallen. This was an easy decision compared to some you'll get." He smiled at me and made me feel cold. Chapter 15 Eva I'd been in my new home for maybe two weeks when memories started to return. They're very faint and vague so far. Both sets of memories seem to be coming back. I hope I can handle it. I can remember a mishmash of things. Some of them are clear but most are not. The doctors are very interested and poke at me more. Apparently one of my sets of memories is from a small and intricate device buried in my head. If the amnesia lifts too quickly then I might become disoriented and potentially insane. I wonder why memory is returning at all. I guess it was artificially suppressed to make sure I went through with my part in the plans. They wouldn't have wanted me to give them any trouble. Nobody expected me to last this long. But it doesn't make any difference that I have. Claiming that I'm really someone else won't get me out of prison. Talk of mysterious conspiracies won't get me very far. Now I'm being studied and they can do what they want to me. When it's over they'll probably just kill me. I don't have to look for any deeper plans and plots now. I just have to keep myself going and take any chances I get. I decide to bide my time and wait until more memories return. I think I'm safe until they've learnt everything they can from me. That will take them a while. The media that dogged me before the trial might now be keeping me alive. A campaign to free me has started back home and the authorities won't be able to get rid of me while I'm in the public eye. I can also bluff them on the amount of recall I have to stretch things out. As long as I give them a small amount of regular progress I can probably get away with it. It's a dangerous game though; they have access to some powerful techniques and technology. I overhear from the doctors that they've found three others like me. They've been experimented on severely. They aren't in the newspapers. Nobody missed them when they disappeared. One of them got subjected to intense radiotherapy to try and burn out the implant. Very nasty, and immediately fatal. A second person went insane before the medical torturers could get started. A third is apparently catatonic after experimental drug treatment and may never recover. The doctors discuss their failures in a matter of fact way. Their words haunt me. Images from them appear in my nightmares. Sometimes I am sitting in the scanner again. This time I know it's not just a probing scan. I wait for the pain and the flash of bright light that will last for the rest of my life. They're always asking about my dreams for some reason. I told them I'm having very vivid ones a while back and now they won't let me alone. In my last dream I'm standing at the bottom of a lift shaft when the platform under me starts to rise. I can't do anything about it and eventually it gets to the top of the shaft where I instinctively grab at a piece of metal and hang onto it. Instantly the platform drops away from me, much faster than it went up. In a few seconds I am hanging there looking down hundreds of feet into nothing. I can see a way out next to me, across the shaft. I'll have to swing and jump to safety. I don't know if I can make it. Then I woke up. Today I am playing word association games for them. I know how these work. Every now and then they slip in a word that I'm meant to react to. It seems a crude device these days but I'm thankful for that. At least it doesn't hurt. Another of their pastimes is to repeatedly question me about incidents in my past lives. I think they're trying to work out how much my memory is improving, and how fast. My memories are quite confused. Both sets seem to blend together before a certain age. Memories of more recent times are easier to separate out. As to which set of them is really mine now. I'm not sure it matters. Chapter 16 Colin My burning office is the signal I need to make a run for it. I don't want to wait around to be pushed under some passing car, or whatever they have planned for me. Losing all the papers in the office isn't a real crisis. The important data is backed up somewhere else. I don't believe the fire was an accident. Once again I try to get my head around why they're doing this. They must know that they wouldn't get me with the fire and I might run for it. I try to make my departure from the house look as normal as possible. I've packed some things into plastic bags and loaded them into the car already. Hopefully people will think I'm taking rubbish to the dump. I don't plan to come back to the house for a while. I set the alarm and lock the door behind me. I make sure that I don't look back as I walk down the path. I drive to another nearby town and check into a business class hotel. I pay them in cash and take the room for a week. The woman is initially suspicious about handling old style money but I told her my bank screwed up my credit card. She laughed knowingly, and didn't press me further. I'll stay here for a few days and make some visits, do everything openly and normally. Then I'll try and skip town and head somewhere else. It may not be easy. There's a depressing amount of surveillance around today and it's hard to avoid it. I have to try though. I can't just sit around and wait to be picked up or shot in the back. I think there may be a few things I can do as well. I can't use my own phone; it must be tracked and tapped. I'll find a public phone and call some of my old contacts. I need to be careful. Only the desperate and very poor rely on street phones these days. Using one is a risk in itself. As I walk down the street I can't help but try and see if I'm being followed. It's stupid of me but it's instinctive. If anyone is watching me they could be sitting thousands of miles away at the controls of a camera. I'll see nothing by looking over my shoulder or for reflections in shop windows. In a back street I visit a partly legal electronics shop. In exchange for a medium sized bribe they scan me for bugs. I tell the guy I've a nosy business rival, not that he cares. Apparently I'm clean but can I trust the results? I hope so. If I have got a micro bug on me it won't matter where I go. I won't get far. C