Kill on Command (24 page)

Hass really didn’t want to give him the money, but he also didn’t want to be with the guy any longer than he had to.  He reached for his money clip, took out $40 and handed it to Oscar.  Oscar looked at the bills.

“We had drinks, too,” he said, with his hand out.

“Here,” Hass said, handing him a $10.   Oscar turned and left without saying another word.  He walked across the lobby and through the revolving doors.  A massive doorman looked him over.  The doormen at the hotel were big for a reason.  They were there to keep the trash and the bums out and away from guests waiting for their cars or a cab. Oscar Pasco’s was trash through and through.

Hass sat back down in the lobby and reviewed the scores.  Oscar Pasco had scored a forty-four on the Wonderlic.  He wondered what he would have done if he had actually tried.  He was also certain that his personality would also be easy to manipulate, but they would have to be cautious.  Oscar Pasco was extremely skeptical of everything and everyone.

IX

Candidate Review

Boston - May 7, 2011

Thomas Hass assembled a one sheet on each of his candidates, headed into the conference room where Dr. McFarland, his team of analysts and Robert Waters were waiting.  Altogether, it had been a productive week.  The team had contacted and interviewed twenty-five men who met their criteria.  Each analyst walked McFarland and Waters through their recommendations.  Hass had spoken to several men, but two had bubbled to the top, Sean Garrison and Oscar Pasco.  He still was surprised Oscar Pasco had done as well as he did on the tests.  He really struck Hass as a borderline thug.  The stench that poured off of Pasco at the interview in Detroit was still fresh in his mind.

He passed out the one sheet on Oscar Pasco first and began walking McFarland and Waters through the assessments.  McFarland and Waters immediately began scanning the document.

“Mr. Waters and Dr. McFarland, in front of you is the profile of Oscar Pasco.   Thirty years old. Approximately 5’10”.  Single.  No living relatives.  To summarize, our tests peg him as a paranoid schizophrenic.  We also conclude that he is susceptible to addiction - addiction of any kind.  Alcohol.  Gambling.  Tobacco.  Our background check on him revealed some interesting information.  He accepted a full scholarship to the University of Michigan, where he did well academically.  He graduated in three years with a degree in finance.  However, during his time in Ann Arbor, he was implicated in a campus gambling ring.  Apparently, he ran a successful sports book.   No charges were ever filed against him.  He accepted a job right out of college with Merrill Lynch in Detroit.  Like his time at the University of Michigan, he did well, but ran into trouble.  He was fired for integrity issues.  We think he was manipulating numbers to cover gambling debts.   He scored a forty-four on the Wonderlic and our tests place him at the very top of the IQ scale for the candidate pool.  My conclusion is that he makes a strong candidate.  We need to be cautious as his high IQ coupled with his psychosis could lead to issues down the line.  I would estimate that he is in average shape for a person his age.  We will know more once we give him a complete physical examination.”

McFarland was making a couple of notes and looked up and across the table at Waters.

“I like him, doctor.” Waters commented.

“I do as well, Robert.  I agree with Hass’ assessment, there are points in his broken personality that we can easily use for our purposes - especially the susceptibility to addiction.  He makes the cut.  Let’s get him in here for the orientation.”

“I will take care of it,” Hass replied.

“Who’s up next?”  McFarland asked, eager to keep things moving.

“Sean Garrison.  Twenty-six years old.  Approximately 6’2”.  No living relatives.  Garrison is an interesting candidate.  Very charismatic guy – a very clever individual.  He pushed me with his responses to the interview questions, but without making me feel like I was being pushed.  I assume that’s the advertising side of him coming out.  He is driven by a rock-solid sense of right and wrong, yet does not come off as stuffy or arrogant.  Our tests indicate that he has a strong sense of purpose and is driven by a solid value system and will stand up for his beliefs.  Independent of our testing, these behaviors were evident in his description of an interaction with his most recent employer.  He stood up to his boss and was fired as a result.  Garrison maintains that he did the right thing.  The tests also indicate an unyielding sense of independence.  He scored well on the Wonderlic.  His IQ is 134 – a good score near the top of the pool.  From a physical standpoint, he is above average, having played competitive lacrosse for several years.”

Waters was scrutinizing the summary.

“What’s this?
The Fountainhead
?  I heard the assessment.  Does he fancy himself some sort of modern day Howard Roark?”

McFarland took off his glasses and folded his hands on top of the report.

“Robert, this is one of our ideal candidates.  He is a passionate person that has a strong value system.  Since you brought it up, let’s stay with the Roark analogy.  He values independence and free will above all.  He feels he is defined by the choices he makes and I am certain that’s why he says this is his favorite book.  He relates to the character.  Look, don’t dwell on this.  We can wind him up and play on this.  If you want to make a statement, this is your man.  He will take every mission personally.  You want something done in spectacular fashion, this is your man.  Couple that with above average athletic ability and you have an assassin that theoretically will excel once given our serum.  And no, he is not Howard Roark.”

“But aren’t we manipulating the very things he values?” Waters responded.

“True, which is why this is so delicate.  Again, if something goes awry, he could turn on all of us.  The other man, Pasco, is motivated by money and a desperate need to satisfy his addictions.  He will not come looking for us.  Garrison will be motivated by vengeance.  He will take all of this very personally, as we have stripped away his very essence and will feel the need to make things right, for himself and those he feels we have harmed.”

“I don’t like that.”

“No, but think about it, Robert.  You want vengeance.  You want a bloody spectacle.  Garrison is the tool to get you what you want,” McFarland said.

Waters remained silent.

“I need to do some testing on these men when they arrive, but the individuals with higher IQs might be candidates for more advanced implants.  I will need to look into their profiles a little more to anticipate the side effects,” McFarland added.

“All of these men will be watched.  I will have a handler shadowing them, backed up by a two-man squad.  If anything goes wrong with an assignment or your programming is off, they will be terminated immediately,” Waters announced.

Waters rubbed his temples and looked at Hass.

“What do you see as the probability these guys will complete more than one mission?” he asked.

“Mr. Waters, some of these men will die after the procedure and will not complete even one mission.   I estimate seventy percent of these men will die while executing or after completing the mission.  The balance will not make it past two missions.  You also have to remember the stress their bodies will be under after we give them the implants and the serum.  They will burn up in thirty days as it is.”

“These two guys you just presented, Garrison and Pasco?”

“They might make it to two missions.  The odds of them moving beyond that are less than one percent.”

Waters nodded.  He did not like the odds, but he could do some real damage with just five or six of these guys.  He pulled out the sheets of the top candidates and placed them in a red folder that was in front of him.  The rest of the room was quiet.

“Let’s get these guys in here.  I want to keep this moving,” Waters ordered, rising from his chair and leaving the room.  He did not dwell on the attrition rate.  This was a war whether Congress realized it or not.  It called for sacrifice.

X

A new job

May 9, 2011

Thomas Hass reached out to Sean Garrison early the following Monday.  Sean was sitting on the deck of the house enjoying another beautiful spring day in Pittsburgh.  Sean picked up Hass’ call on the first ring.

“This is Sean,” he answered.

“Good morning Sean, Walter Mathis here.”

“Good morning.”

“I have some news for you.  I would like to offer you the job.” 

Sean was elated.  He had quickly transitioned into a new job that would double his old salary.

“Thank you!”

“I would like to start you at $85,000.  There is also a great benefits package.  Health insurance, dental and vision.  We also offer something unusual, a whole life policy of $200,000.  What’s nice about this is it has a great cash value that will just keep building.  Of course, there’s a physical that you have to take to qualify for the policy.  In addition, we have a strong bonus program.”

“I have had some time to think over the opportunity.  It’s an easy decision - I accept.”

“That is great news.  When can you start?”

“Whenever you want me to.”

“Can you be here Friday?  We will host you over the weekend and get some additional paper work done, plus the physical.  Your training will start on Monday, a week from today. Shortly there after, we will get you on a plane and off to Europe.”

“Sounds good.”

“I also want to get your signing bonus to you.  It will be grossed up, so it will be a true $12,725.  I just need your banking information.”

Sean gave the necessary account and routing numbers to Hass.

“Thanks.  I will have my assistant, Rhonda, set up all of your travel arrangements.  I will arrange for an American Express card to be left at the front desk of your hotel.  Please use this for all of your expenses.”

“Thank you.  See you later this week.”

“Looking forward to it, Sean.” 

As he hung up, Sean realized he could breath easy now and not worry about employment. He went back to enjoying the springtime sun.

Hass sent a quick note to McFarland regarding the conversation with Sean and a request to another team member who was handling all the travel and expenses.  He picked up the phone again and called Oscar Pasco.  The call went as well as expected.  However, he did not wire Pasco the signing bonus.  He was certain the guy would run off with the money and not show.  Pasco would receive the money in his account after he arrived in Boston.

The next phase for Hass and the team was more logistical.  They needed to keep the candidates separate.  To do this, they broke the men into three groups of five.  Sean and Oscar Pasco were in group one.  They would go through the procedure first, followed by the second group the following week, and the last group a week after that.

Sean checked his bank balance later in the day and saw that he was $12,725 richer.  Brian would be thrilled that Sean had money to pay the rent and the ability to pick up a bar tab.  Sean took the rest of the week pretty easy.  He picked up a few items for his trip.  Several new shirts, new ties and a good pair of black shoes – cap toe. 

On Thursday, Sean’s itinerary arrived. His next few days were to be very busy.  He was leaving on Friday at around noon and had reservations at the Boston Park Plaza Hotel.  Nice.  They asked for him to take a cab to the hotel. 

He decided to wear a pair of khaki pants, one of his new shirts and a navy sport coat on the trip.  Yeah, he looked like he was coming from a fraternity party, but who cared.

The trip to the airport was uneventful.  He was relieved.  The Pittsburgh airport’s security line was usually bad.  It was not unusual for the line to extend all the way out to the parking walkway.  He was looking forward to the mileage he would get from the trips overseas, as the status would enable him to jump into the elite line, which scooted him through security infinitely faster.  For the time being, he was just like everybody else.

The trip to Boston was quick and he had no trouble gathering his bag.  He took a cab to the hotel and was delighted with where he was staying.  The Boston Park Plaza was stunning.  Like the William Penn, the hotel was built in the early 20
th
century and oozed class.  The lobby was awe-inspiring.  Sean crossed the lobby to the registration desk and checked in.  Waiting for him was an American Express card and the schedule for the next several days.  Hass also had included a personal note.

Sean:

Feel free to enjoy the restaurants here in the hotel or in Boston.  I am picking up the tab.

Glad to have you aboard.

Regards,

W. Mathis

Sean was elated.  There were three great restaurants in the hotel alone.  He headed to the elevator bank and up to his room on the seventh floor.  The room was as nice as the lobby.  Sean placed his bag on the bed and started unpacking.  After he had hung up all of his clothes, he sat down in the armchair placed near the room’s window.  Taking the phone from his pocket, he Googled the Boston Bruins.  They were not playing tonight, but were in town on Saturday, the fourteenth.  It was a playoff game, but who knows, he might be able to score a ticket.  He decided to take Mathis up on his offer to enjoy himself.  He located a Smith & Wollensky – always a good choice.  It was roughly a block down the road.  He washed up, headed out with the goal of having a drink and nice dinner.

Sean loved his room, but it was not a chance booking.  McFarland and his team had already wired the room for video and audio surveillance.  Everything Sean said or did would be monitored by McFarland’s team and his new handler.  She would be stationed in the adjacent room.  The team was not really concerned with what he was doing the next couple of days, however, it was crucial to monitor him once he had undergone the procedures they had planned.  As part of the process, he would be implanted with a tracking device that would enable the team to follow his every move. 

His handler, Sandy, wanted to get a closer look at him, before he became a science experiment.  She waited in the lobby for him.  She was wearing a tan pantsuit with a black blouse underneath.  She liked the way it accented her auburn hair.  He didn’t notice her as he walked through the lobby.  She noted how happy he looked as he exited the hotel.  She could see him talking to the bellman, asking for directions.  The bellman pointed to the right and Sean started off in the direction of the restaurant.  Sandy exited a couple of seconds behind him.  It was rush hour and the sidewalk was congested.  She liked being tall.  It made it easier to follow someone through a crowd like this.  With heels, Sandy was over six feet tall.  Despite her height, she blended in with the crowd on the street as everyone was dressed more or less the same.  She followed him down Arlington Street, until he entered Smith & Wollensky.  Sandy smiled.  She was glad he was taking advantage of Waters’ American Express card.  She gave him a couple of minutes and entered the restaurant.  Sean was sitting up at the bar and was already chatting up the bartender.  Sandy walked past him and took a seat at the far end of the bar.  Smith & Wollensky won’t win an award for best ‘happy hour” in Boston, but they did have a decent crowd in the bar area.  It wasn’t long before others noticed Sandy.  A fiftyish man approached her.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, sliding into the chair to her right. 
 

“No thanks,” s
he said, without looking at him and flipping through the bar menu.

“Just one drink?” he pleaded.

“Sure.  I’ll have glass of this Stag’s Leap cab,” she said, pointing at the menu. The man grimaced.  It was a $29 a glass.

“Happy to,” he gestured to the bartender, who poured the wine and set it in front of Sandy.  The bartender turned and moved towards Sean.  She took a sip and glanced down the bar at Sean who had a beer and a Caesar salad in front of him.  He was still talking to the bartender.  It looked like one of them had told some sort of joke as both were laughing.

“How’s the wine?” the older guy asked, leaning towards her.

“Great.  Do you mind also getting one for my fiancé?  He’ll be here any minute.  He plays the Bruins on Saturday and loves meeting new people,” she said, suddenly flashing a huge diamond on her left hand.

“Hmmm.  I’ll pass,” he started to get up and walk away, as Sandy turned.

“Thanks for the wine.  I hope you stick around, I think you two would really hit it off,” she said sarcastically.  “God, it feels good to twist these jerks around,” she thought to herself.  Sitting at the bar without further incident, she watched Sean out of the corner of her eye.  She took about fifteen minutes to finish her wine and decided she had seen enough of Sean Garrison.  She left the bar, moving towards the door, when at the same time; Sean dropped his napkin and rose to pick it up.  They came face to face.  Sean smiled at her.

“Oh, sorry, excuse me,” Sean said, looking right at her.  Sandy didn’t reply, just moved to the right and headed for the door.  She was angry with herself.  She almost blew it and the assignment had not even started. 

“Brrrrr,” Sean said, sitting back down. The bartender was looking at him.

“Tell me about it.  She shut some poor bastard down earlier after he bought her a $29 glass of wine,” the bartender said, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

“No shit,” Sean replied.

“No shit,” the bartender answered.

Sean’s steak had arrived and he focused on his meal.  He took his time but still finished quickly.  You always seem to eat faster when you dine alone.  He paid his check and left the restaurant.  He stopped to chat with the bellman before going inside.

The next morning he dressed in much the same fashion as the day before.  As instructed, he stuffed all of his workout gear into an old, WVU duffel.  He went downstairs to take advantage of the breakfast buffet.  It was a glorious spread that rivaled anything Sean had seen before.   He tossed the bag containing his workout clothes on the seat next to him and strode up to the buffet.   He had a definite pep in his step.  He loved to eat.  After eating way too much, he walked into the lobby to find a man holding a sign with his name on it.

“I’m Sean,” he said walking up to the man.

“Mr. Garrison, please follow me.” Outside was a Town Car by the curb.  The man took the gym bag from Sean, opened the door for him and placed the bag in the trunk.

“Thank you.” 

“I need your phone, please,” the driver said, as he slid behind the wheel.

“My phone?  Why?”

“This is a private facility.  I will return your phone when you arrive back at the hotel.” 

Sean thought it was weird, but handed him the phone anyway.

Traffic was light as it was a Saturday and the car eased into the flow.  After twenty minutes, Sean began to think the driver was lost.  Eventually, they arrived at what looked like an empty building.  The car stopped in front of a gated garage and the driver entered a code.  The metal gate slowly retracted and the car drove down two levels and stopped near an elevator.  There were two white vans parked on the level, but nothing else.  In front of the elevator, a small woman in a white lab coat was waiting.  Sean opened the door and stepped out.  The driver quickly handed him his bag.  Sean slung the bag over his shoulder and walked towards the elevator.

“Mr. Garrison, I am Dr. Baum.  I will be with you today as we complete your physical,” she said extending her hand.  Sean shook her hand.  Dr. Roberta Baum was barely 5’3” with mousy-brown hair arranged in a tight, painful looking bun.  She wore glasses with black frames.  Her white lab coat looked like it had been starched stiff enough to stand on its own.  Sean looked at her shoes and guessed they were orthopedic.  “We can put a man on the moon, but can’t make decent looking orthopedic shoes?” he thought to himself.  Big thoughts indeed.

“Good to meet you.  Interesting office you have here,” he commented, stepping onto the elevator with the doctor.