APOCALYPSE IN MIND: BOOK 1

By GIPP

The story begins in March of 1968, when the CIA and US Army INSCOM (Intelligence Security Command)learn that the Soviet Union has developed a psychic espionage program to spy on the US Intelligence community. To counter this threat, they develop their own psychic team of Agents. After their first mission, they realize that the greatest threat to the United States isn't the Soviet Union, but with the fallen angel, Lucifer!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098387037

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

MARCH 25TH, 1968

0938 HOURS. JOHNSVILLE NAVAL AIR WARFARE DEVELOPMENT CENTER,WARMINSTER,PA

W hat a dump. special agent Brian Crawford said to himself as he got his first look at Johnsville Naval Base. What have I done to deserve this?, again to himself, as he drove north on Jacksonville Road. Jacksonville Road divided the base into two sections, the airstrip was on his right and slightly elevated above street level. To his left, were base operations and the research and development center. He continued down Jacksonville Road for another quarter mile, until he came to the main entrance of base operations. He was greeted by two armed soldiers. Brian took quick notice that the two men were Army instead of the usual Marine or Navy personnel. He had only been in the C.I.A. for 8 months, but he knew something was out of place already.

Can I help you, sir?, a tall, stocky soldier with bright yellow sergeant stripes on his shoulders asked with authority.

I’m Special Agent Crawford, Central Intelligence Agency. I’m supposed to report to a Colonel Stewart. Brian said as he reached for his I.D., noticing out of the corner of his eye that the soldier to his right had trained an M-16 on him.

Whoa. Easy fellas. It’s just my I.D., handing his wallet to the sergeant at his driver side window. The sergeant said nothing as he took the wallet to the guard shack and compared it to a clipboard. He nodded and walked back over to Brian.

Here you go, sir. Sorry about that. The base commander is expecting you. Take this road all the way to the end. Large brick building on your left, you can’t miss it, sir., the sergeant instructed, handing the wallet back to Brian.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Brian waited for the gate pole to rise and eased his 67 T-Bird onto the base. He made a right after the guard shack and toyed with the idea of burning rubber down Perimeter Road. He grinned as he thought of how much fun it would be to stomp the gas pedal to the floor and be thrown back in his seat from the acceleration. The 351 Cleveland engine would scream out a loud BWAAAAAAAAA!, as he soared down the asphalt. He decided that it was a bad idea, judging the two soldiers at the gate by their looks. Besides, He purchased it brand new from the dealership in Altoona last year, the only midnight blue one they had. He thought it looked tough, because at night, it looked black and menacing. The thought of the guards filling it full of bullet holes made him adhere to the strict 20mph speed limit. It was the only thing he ever really fell in love with at first sight.

He got to the end of the road and pulled into the parking lot that sat in front of a large brick building. There was a large 1957 Cadillac parked in a space reserved for Colonel James A. Stewart, Commanding. At least that’s what the sign read. There was an empty space reserved for visitors next to the Caddy, so Brian pulled in next to it. He got out of his car and could hear a loud jet engine roaring. He looked in the direction of the airstrip and saw an F-4 coming in for a landing.

That is going to be the only cool thing about this place. He had been fascinated with fighter jets since he was a kid. He started up the walkway toward the glass double-doors. There was a large silver eagle painted on the door to his left, and the door on the right had COLONEL JAMES A. STEWART, COMMANDING painted on it.

Jimmy Stewart?, Brian thought and laughed to himself, It’s a wonderful…smell!, his mental joke cut short by the fragrance of flowers and spice, of some sort. He couldn’t quite place what it smelled like, but it smelled good to him. Straight ahead of him were a hallway and a counter that had a small sign that read, RECEPTION in bold white lettering on brown plastic faux paneling. Beyond the counter was a noisy office. The sounds coming from it filled the hall with echoes of typewriter keys being tapped at a steady rhythm and the friendly chatter of the ladies operating them.

Brian stepped up to the counter and assessed the scene for a few seconds before letting his presence be known.

Twins! he thought to himself as he discovered the source of the noise and the pleasant smelling perfume all at once. The twin on his right noticed him first. She stopped typing, stood up and walked over to the counter, smiling at him. He returned her smile.

Can I help you, sir?, she asked.

I hope so. I’m Special Agent Crawford, C.I.A. I’m supposed to report in with Colonel Stewart. He presented his I.D. again. She looked it over and smiled at him again.

The Colonel is expecting you. You’re late., she said.

Late? I was told 10:00 am. It’s only 9:45. Brian said looking at his watch, feeling puzzled by her remark. He looked at her, dumbfounded. She and her twin began laughing, at what he presumed, was his expense.

I don’t get it? Brian said.

Colonel Stewart bet us lunch that you’d be here an hour early. This is the tenth lunch we’ve won this year. I’m sorry for laughing. It wasn’t aimed at you. You have to see the Colonel when he loses, he’s such a sore loser. Anyway, I’m Tammy, and that’s my kid sister Lisa. Welcome to Warminster, Pennsylvania , Agent Crawford., she said and handed him a large brown envelope.

Oh that’s alright, I’m happy to see that humor isn’t prohibited here. What do I do with this? he asked, looking at the envelope.

That is your in-processing packet. Sorry, but everyone is required to fill it out. Lots of top-secret stuff around here. she said jokingly.

Paperwork is my specialty. Brian replied, rolling his eyes.(Special Agent code for: Oh, Brother!)

You can leave it on the counter until your meeting is over. The Colonel’s office is the last door on the right. You should probably get going. she smirked.

"Thanks.’ Brian said and proceeded to the office at the end of the hall.

He knocked twice in quick raps, and thought to himself, Here we go!

Come in. he heard through the door, also marked with a sign that read, COLONEL JAMES A. STEWART, COMMANDING. This guy marks his territory more that a dog would, jeez! he said to himself again and entered the room.

Colonel James A. Stewart stood behind his large oak desk that sat centered on a large bay window that overlooked the parking lot outside.

You must be Colonel Stewart, commanding , Brian said as he walked toward the desk and extended his right hand. Brian was expecting someone taller. At 5’7 , he seemed small. By no means was he frail. He looked physically fit and could probably outrun a deer, but when you see the word COMMANDING" written after his name(which was everywhere), you definitely begin to think of Superman or Captain America.

You can call me Jimbo, he said as he shook Brian’s hand with an iron grip. Have a seat.

Thank you, Brian said, extending and curling the fingers on his right hand.

Let me get right down to the brass tacks, he said. Brian placed his accent to be somewhere from the Midwest. Have you ever heard of ESP?

Sure, I mean who hasn’t? Edgar Cayce and Nostradamus are the only two I can think of. Oh yeah, and Mrs. Hollinsworth back in Altoona. She was a clairvoyant my mother went to see a couple of times a year. Read some kind of cards or something like that.

I’m impressed. Most people never heard of Nostradamus. Good, you’ll be a lot easier to convince than the other two bums your boss sent me. How are those two guys doing? I heard they were sent to some listening post on top of a mountain in Turkey. Are they married to each other yet?

I don’t think I know about them, sir. Brian said, clearly understanding the Colonels meaning.

Well, you probably won’t. Opportunity knocks once in a young man’s career, and Uncle Sam, also known as ME, doesn’t take to kindly to those who refuse to open the door.

I’m all ears, Jimbo. Brian said, adjusting his posture as though he were trying to impress God himself.

Outstanding. Its like this, the Russians have a project being conducted by the KGB, called SPECTRUM, at least that’s the translation. Its supposed to be comprised of telepathic, telekinetic, and pyro-kinetic capable psychics, to name a few. They are dumping lots of time and energy into this sort of research. Beyond that, I can’t tell you much too much more. However, believe me when I tell you, this isn’t about crystal balls and voodoo. No sir, these are real people with real power we’re talking about here, and we need to find and employ them. Jimbo stated bluntly.

Telekinetic? Brian asked aloud.

Yeah. That means they can move shit with their minds. Pyro means fire. So you can imagine what a pyrokinetic can do. Colonel Stewart said condescendingly, sensing that Brian wasn’t exactly grasping the importance of the project.

I gotta admit this is a lot to take in. However, I have no intentions of being the third wheel on that double date in Turkey, you can count me in. Brian wisecracked and made Jimbo laugh. He wasn’t quite sure yet, but he may have made a friend as well.

Alright then, welcome aboard. Just out of curiosity, how’s your back feeling these days? I saw that cheap shot you took during the Notre Dame game in 65. How you got up from that, I don’t know. I said to my wife, That’s one tough son-of-a-bitch." Jimbo hinted at being a football fan.

The back is fine. Some days it’s a little stiff, but nothing too serious, he admitted.

That’s good. I don’t anticipate a lot of strenuous physical activity being involved during this assignment, but its good to be prepared for anything.

Brian nodded in agreement, When do I start?

You can start by going back and filling out your in- processing packet. Once that’s done, I can notify INSCOM that I have an operative on station and we can get this project started. I don’t mean to rush you, but I’ve been sitting on a pile of documents and file footage of a privately funded experiment similar to what we’re putting together. I understand that its pretty interesting stuff, but I had orders not to view it until I have a C.I.A. counterpart. Colonel Stewart said and lit up a Pall-Mall non-filter cigarette. His right eye squinted, as a wisp of whitish-gray smoke irritated it. He sat back in his large black leather swivel chair, took a long drag, and exhaled a cloud of smoke to the ceiling.

Well, my curiosity is piqued. I’ll get the paper work done, so we can get started, Brian said as he stood up. I’m interested in seeing what I’ve got myself into.

I’m glad I can finally call my boss and tell him the good news. Jimbo said, standing up to shake Brian’s hand again before he left. Tell you what, lunch is on me. I’ll head down to the Ivyland café and pick up some burgers. You should finish in-processing by that time.

That sounds good to me. Brian closed the door behind him as he left.

Jimbo picked up the phone and dialed the number to Director Henry Miller’s office in Langly, Virginia. It rang twice before a voice on the other end answered. The female secretary re-directed the call and it rang two more times before he heard the familiar voice of his old friend.

Miller. He heard the voice say .

Hank, its Jimbo. How the hell are you?

Not bad at all, Jimbo. Is this good news or bad news? Hank said.

Good news, He wants the assignment.

You tell him about the listening post in Turkey?

Colonel Stewart shared a short laugh with Hank over the phone. They both knew that the listening post in Turkey had been lost in the resolution of the Cuban missile crisis.

Yeah, well this is a hard project to sell. Hank, do you really think this is going to pan out results?

You’re still worried about getting promoted, aren’t you? Hank asked.

Put yourself in my shoes. I have a couple of years left to make my mark, and I would really like to retire as a General, Hank. I’m hoping this field of science yields the results you say it will.

"It will, Jimbo, trust me. Now that I have cooperation from INSCOM, we’ll have the funding we need to get this off the ground. We need to play catch up with the Soviets, and fast. The package has all the intel about Dr. Silver’s research project and the Soviet program."

I can’t wait to see the films. Agent Crawford and I are going to review them as soon as he gets done at reception.

Good. Keep me posted on the progress. I want the labs up and running in a week. You will have viable support personnel there the week after that. Hank stated, making sure that his timetable was understood.

No problem, Hank, I’m all over it. Call you next week. Jimbo said and depressed the button in the phone’s cradle, ending the call. He dialed another number as soon as he heard the dial tone again.

Engineering. the voice on the other end answered.

This is Colonel Stewart. I need sub-levels fourteen through sixteen completed in six days, was all that he said and hung the phone up again.

He rocked back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. I hope you’re right about this, Hank, he thought to himself.

BACK AT THE RECEPTION DESK

Back so soon, Agent Crawford? asked Tammy, looking up from her typewriter.

Yeah, I got to get the paper work finished before the Colonel and I continue our discussion. Brian said opening the In-processing packet.

It shouldn’t take too long to get done. Tammy said smiling.

Brian looked at the first form to be filled out. It was a disclosure form that had to be signed and dated at the bottom, attesting he would keep all material and topics, seen and heard while at the base, top secret. Any breach of this contract is punishable with imprisonment, not less than thirty years. Or stationed in Turkey with two flamers. he thought to himself.

Tammy, what’s today’s date?

Today is the 25th. You’ll need to write it 25-MAR-68, or Colonel Stewart won’t accept it. He has this thing for all paper work to be filled out in a precise military fashion. the tall red headed beauty said to him and then signed her name in the space for the first witness. Lisa, you need to sign the disclosure form.

The other tall red head signed on the appropriate line and leaned on the counter next to her sister.

The Colonel told us that you played football at Penn State. Lisa said, and batted her long eye lashed over her emerald green eyes at him. Brian looked up from the second form he just started to fill out and recognized, by the sound of her voice, that she was flirting with him.

That’s true. I was a starter all three years. he said nonchalantly, acting uninterested.

"What position did you play? Tammy asked hurriedly, having seen her younger sister in action before. Lisa had always managed to steal a guy’s attention away from her. Most times, Tammy didn’t care. However, she was strongly attracted to Brian the first time she laid eyes on him, so she decided to show an interest too.

Outside linebacker. I was injured my senior year against Notre Dame. I wanted to make a career out of it, but a week in the hospital afterwards, sort of changed my mind about that. He said to Tammy.

A week in the hospital? Oh my lord! Lisa said in the most falsely concerned tone Brian had ever heard. He chuckled at her and turned his attention back to Tammy. Her lips were pursed tightly, trying not to laugh. She saw that Brian had seen through her sister’s ploy and she was thrilled. Lisa had stolen many guys away from her in the past few years, and the result was always the same. Lisa would get bored with them after a week or two, and dump them. Tammy was beginning to think that the only reason she’d take a guy from her, was her competitive streak. Lisa always had to win. She always had to prove she was the stronger of the two. Tammy realized that this was someone her sister’s charms failed to entice.

I got hit from behind in the lower back. It took three days for me to get the feeling back in my legs, Brian said specifically to Tammy.

That must have been scary, she said, genuinely concerned.

I was scared to death. That’s when I decided that being able to walk and get around the rest of my life, was more important than football. I put an effort in to graduating with honors, and here I am.

I’m glad you’re here, Tammy said dreamily. She realized that she had just spoken aloud and she quickly covered her mouth with both hands, blushing brightly. Brian pretended not to see her and started filling out another form. Lisa sensed her presence wasn’t having the desired effect on Brian, so she retreated back to her desk. Brian waited until Lisa sat down and whispered, Me too.

You know, most people ask if we’re twins. Why haven’t you? Tammy asked.

I could tell right away that you weren’t twins. You’re way prettier, Brian said, lying his ass off.

Well mister, you are definitely gaining in the polls around here.

I’m definitely going to need a guided tour of the area, if you’re interested in the job. It doesn’t pay very much, but can I call you for an interview? Brian said, finishing the form he was on and starting another. Tammy slid an index card across the countertop. Her name and phone number were written on it. Brian picked it up, looked at it and smiled. He tucked it into his shirt pocket, as he winked at her. He finished his paper work and put it all back into the large brown envelope. Tammy took it over to her desk and laid it down. She picked up the phone to call Colonel Stewart, when she heard his office door open and shut down the hall.

Colonel Stewart? Tammy said, laying the phone back down.

You all set, Brian? Colonel Stewart asked as he approached from his office.

I’m done with the packet, if that’s what you mean, Brian replied.

Good. It’s time for lunch. Why don’t you come with me? Girls, I’m heading to the Ivyland café, do you want anything? he said and winced waiting for the reply.

Hey, you owe us lunch! Lisa yelled from her desk.

Yeah! You lost fair and square! So pay up! Tammy said, backing her little sister.

Alright, already. Sheesh! Take my advice, never bet against those two. They never lose! Jimbo said to Brian.

Sure thing, sir. Brian said to Jimbo and asked the girls, What do you guys want?

The usual! they chimed in unison.

Don’t worry, I know. Cheeseburgers and fries, Jimbo said, rolling his eyes.

BREWSTER’S ABYSS

Colonel Stewart and Brian had just finished their lunch, (the best burgers on the east coast, according to Jimbo.) and left the small makeshift cafeteria, across the hall from the reception counter. They walked out of the building and got into Brian’s T-bird. Colonel Stewart directed him to head back to the main gate, cross Jacksonville Road and proceed to the airfield. They entered the main gate on the airfield side and drove a short distance to a large concrete building that resembled an enormous garage. Brian parked beside the building and followed the colonel over to the doorway.

Here’s one for you, Jimbo said, handing Brian a large brass key. Don’t lose it

Brian watched as Jimbo produced another key from his pocket. He pushed the large brass key into the lock, which had ten tick marks etched into a semi-circle along the key hole. Jimbo turned the key to the first tick mark and the steel panel in front of them screeched open and clanged into position.

Well, this is self-explanatory. Turn it one tick mark, one door opens. Turn it ten, all ten open.

Too easy, Jimbo, Brian agreed, placing the key in his pocket.

Jimbo pulled the key from the lock and stepped inside the large room. A long series of florescent lights ran the length of the room and began to illuminate the darkness, one at a time. Brian followed him into the shack and looked around. The room was easily fifty feet wide by one hundred feet long and completely empty.

Don’t tell me this is my office, Brian said to Jimbo remorsefully, already regretting taking the assignment.

"No, this is the way to your office." he replied, grinning. He took the key and put it into a lock that looked the same as the one outside and turned it.

Whoa! Brian exclaimed as the floor beneath him began to move suddenly downward.

This is the Brewster Super-vator. It was designed to move aircraft from the surface to the hanger bays under the airfield. Big son-of-a-bitch, isn’t it? Jimbo laughed.

Where the hell are we going?

All the way down, but not to hell. Sub-level 16. It’s where your office is and the research will be conducted. Sub-levels 1 through 13 are all storage from the base. Old planes, vehicles and a fall-out shelter capable of sustaining 1500 people for three years or something like that. There is another way in on the other side of the base, but I didn’t think you want to walk sixteen stories down a metal spiral stair case. Jimbo stated.

Brewster was one eccentric genius. A bit paranoid if you think about it. Brian said, fighting a slight case of motion sickness. He wondered if he would ever get used to riding on this contraption.

Yeah, he was nuttier than squirrel shit. No doubt about it. Jimbo joked. Too bad he went bankrupt before the jet age. No telling what he could have come up with. The Defense Department picked this place up at a bargain back in 46. Hell, it was ten years before they found out about the underground complex. Turns out, that an ex-employee had both keys to the Super-Vator. The Navy had to go through old records to find the airfield maintenance supervisor who worked here. His daughter held on to the keys after he died. She said he didn’t want the Defense Department to have them. I guess he was bitter after the company went under, I don’t know.

You sure got the history of this place nailed, Brian remarked, not knowing what else to say.

Here we are, Jimbo said, as the floor clanged to a stop and the door opened.

The two men stepped out into a well-lit office environment. It looked like an office floor that you’d find in a sky-scraper in New York City, except for it’s size. It was enormous! The dimensions were 150 feet by 500 feet. Brian regained his bearings and estimated that this place had to run under Jacksonville Road, which was on his right and straight toward the end of the runway, which was in front of him. Brian was impressed. He looked at Jimbo on his left, who was smiling ear to ear, and mustered his vocabulary enough to say…HOLEE-SHHIT!!!

Same thing I said, the first time I saw it. Jimbo laughed.

This is my office?

Yup.

All of this?

Yup.

HOLEE-SHHIT!!!, Brian was overwhelmed. He wasn’t certain if he was the right man for this job when he first arrived at the base. He was still fighting that uncertainty.

Jimbo started toward a small room that had recently been built by the base engineers. He opened the door and flipped the light on.

This is your office. On your desk are two phones. The black one reaches my office on the other side of the base. The red one is a direct line to Director Miller’s office. Don’t hesitate to use them. Hank and I like to be kept up to speed on progress, remember that.

What progress, exactly? I still don’t have any guidelines to go by. And what about the documents and footage we’re supposed to review. Brian asked, feeling himself growing agitated.

We’re getting to that, hero. Relax.

There was a safe hidden in floor, just in front of Brian’s new desk. The Colonel pulled his wallet out and slid a small piece of paper from its fold. He handed it to Brian, who in turn , used the numbers written on it to open the safe. Within the safe was the packet containing the file footage of the information of the previous project ran by Dr. Silvers. Underneath the packet was a film projector. Brian pulled it out too. It took another three minutes to set it up and start the film.

As the gear teeth fed the film through the illuminated lens piece, the two men were transfixed on the projected images. The black and white movie before them was without sound, but the story told itself. The small boy, codenamed Oliver, was sitting in a soundproof booth. The camera was behind a woman with brown hair, who was sitting outside the booth with flash cards. She would hold a card up in front of her, then Oliver would go through the deck of cards he was holding and pick out the correct matching card. He did it accurately one thousand times, each card matching the card drawn by the woman exactly. There was a break in the film, as scene switched from Oliver, to the test subject codenamed Sylvia.

Sylvia was a young adolescent blonde girl, about fourteen years old. She was standing in a room in front of a stack of four cinderblocks. Her facial expression suddenly seemed strained, and the cinder blocks burst into flames. She remained transfixed on the flaming pillar. Even though the film was black and white, they could see that the flames were changing colors as the intensity of the heat increased, and turned the stack of blocks into a pile of smoking black powder. She seemed boldly aware of her power and its capabilities. She looked directly into the hidden camera that was filming her little exhibition, and looked defiant, as flames began to leap up at the two-way mirror and char it black. That was the last footage of Sylvia they had. Agent Crawford stopped the film and turned on the light. He had seen enough of the footage. He needed to read the files on these two children before he watched anymore.

"What’s the problem? Jimbo asked.

No problem, I just need to get some facts about this project. Brian answered.

Like what?

First, I need to know where the funding for this research came from. Two, how did Dr. Silvers come into being involved with this subject?, and lastly, where did he lose it all?

Dr. Albert Silvers is dead, Brian. Therefore, a lot of your answers are going to remain unresolved. The funding for his project came from an unknown, private organization. As for his involvement, that’s another unknown variable. Jimbo explained.

And that’s where we’re supposed to pick it up from? Brian asked.

It seems so. From what I’ve gathered, Dr. Silvers has a friend in INSCOM. Some top brass heard about the project and wanted it converted to a military operation. However, before the Army could move in, both children were removed by the parents. Without them, Silvers had nothing to offer the C.I.A. or INSCOM. He just up and disappeared and the intelligence community was left holding the bag. I mean we’ve had nothing until recently. This file footage we’re watching is two years old and it’s been reviewed only once before today. Hank Miller is the only other person whose seen it, and he really likes the idea of having control of those who have these powers. That’s why he was given the sole authority over the Army Intelligence Security Command, INSCOM, as I’ve been referring to it. We really should watch the film first, Brian. We can go over the files afterwards.

Alright then, let’s finish the film. Brian agreed and restarted the projector.

The clicking of the projector was loud in the small office and would’ve been annoying, if the content of the film wasn’t so interesting. The next scene was introduced by an all white screen that read -TOP SECRET: EAST BERLIN, 1951. GENNADY ANDROSENKO DEFECTION. As the film rolled, Brian and Jimbo watched as the camera caught a small boy, his parents and two little sisters walking through an East Berlin checkpoint. The scene wasn’t all that interesting ,until the white circles outlining the bullets ricocheting off of an invisible force field around the family were penciled in by Army intelligence officers. There were small sparks flashing all around the family, as Soviet soldiers fired round after round at them. Yet, they walked straight through the gate, past the barricade and toward U.S. soldiers, who had begun to urge them to run toward freedom. There was a soldier on the west side waving the U.S. flag and cheering at the family. The family had made it better than half way across, when the boy turned around and raised his arms to the soldiers who were firing at him. The bullets continued to bounce off, as the machine guns concentrated their fire on him. Suddenly, a stream of flames jumped from his fingertips, and engulfed the boy’s fellow countrymen, bringing the machine gun fire to a halt. A BMP infantry fighting vehicle pulled up to the gate and weaved in between the burning soldiers the best they could, heading toward the boy at a high rate of speed. The boy directed the flame from his left hand at the armored vehicle, setting it ablaze. The flaming hulk continued toward the boy, getting closer. He lifted his right hand above his head and quickly brought it down, as though he were swatting a fly. The BMP suddenly collapsed, still on fire. The camera remained on the vehicle another two minutes before the film ended.

Brian turned the lights on and shut off the projector. Colonel Stewart lit up a cigarette and pulled in on a heavy drag of smoke. He held it for along pause, and then exhaled before he spoke.

Did you see that vehicle? he asked.

It looked like a toy that had been stepped on! Brian said in amazement.

"Set on fire and stepped on!" Jimbo corrected.

Whatever it was, it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! I’m not sure it was even real! Brian concluded.

The two men began to read the files that accompanied the film with vigor. Urgently they searched the documents, looking for a starting point for their own project. On the last page of the Androsenko file, Colonel Stewart found the contact information. The name, address and telephone number of Gennady Androsenko was listed first, followed by two other names, addresses and numbers.

This might turn out to be easier to start than we thought. Jimbo said, I found that Russian boy’s address and number!

Really.!? Brian asked hurriedly.

Yes sir! We need to get in contact with him A.S.A.P.!

You think so? Brian asked. You happen to forget that He’s a Russian defector? What if this whole East Berlin incident was a ploy by the Soviets to put a sleeper agent into the Allied intelligence community?

Oh c’mon, Brian. Do you really think they staged that? If that were the case, then our troops would have to be involved with the ruse and I don’t believe that. No way! That was real! In addition, the sooner we find that boy, the sooner we’ll be able to prove it. Considering he still has those abilities. And what if he doesn’t want to be a part of our project?

That isn’t what concerns me the most. What if he still has those abilities and wants to be a part of the project? How do we sell a former resident of the U.S.S.R. with paranormal abilities to Hank, Colonel? Brian said solemnly, looking at the phone number for Gennady Androsenko.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Dr. Albert Silvers sat on the edge of his bed and lit up a cigarette. It was seven o’clock in the morning. He hadn’t slept in two days. He couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep and dream again. It was in his dreams that a demon stalked him. Until recently, he was convinced that the demon was his ego, his narcissistic side. The side of him that drove his wife, Heidi, to leave him two months ago. The side that pushed him to conduct cruel experiments on Oliver and Sylvia, and ultimately caused his research project to be cancelled.

It was Sylvia who was opposed to needles, especially when he proposed inserting it into her head and extracting fluid from her hypothalamus. He was convinced that was the source of her power. He looked at the melted remains of his left arm and half sobbed - half laughed. At least the hand was left intact, but badly scarred from burns. She could have killed him if she wanted to. He was lucky, especially when his benefactors convinced the children’s parents not to press charges against him. He recalled thanking them for that, just before they told him