Revenge in Advance - The New Way

"Damn," Oscar said.

"Yeah," Bill said. "If I were a betting man, and I'm not, I'd wager she's got something cooked up. It's only a matter of time before she makes her move."

"That's assuming she hasn't already," Oscar said.

"True," Bill said. Sitting his coffee cup on Oscar's desk, he stood up and prepared to leave. "Listen, I'm on my way to Washington. I'll be meeting with the Director of National Security and a few others. You may want to pack a bag just in case you need to come out."

"Okay," Oscar said. "I'll get some agents on this and see what we can shake loose. Plus I'll talk to Jim. One thing I don't understand, though."

"What's that?" Bill asked.

"I have a very hard time with the idea of everyone in Britain suddenly going along with all this," Oscar said. "I can't imagine any self-respecting Englishman just giving up they way they seemed to. Something doesn't add up."

"You suspect something?" Bill asked. Oscar nodded his head.

"I do," he said. "And it all goes back to what Jim was working on twenty years ago."

"Let me know what you come up with," Bill said. "Who knows, maybe they fed them that shit you call coffee," he added with a smile.

"Still trying humor, I see," Oscar said, laughing. Bill chuckled and waved as he left the office. Oscar picked up the phone, called Jim and asked him to come to his office. A few minutes later, Jim showed up at his door.

"Come in, Jim," Oscar said. Jim walked in and Oscar motioned for him to sit down.

"Care for a cup of coffee?" Oscar asked.

"Sure, that would be nice," Jim said as Oscar poured a fresh cup after grabbing a cup out of the sterilizer. He watched as Jim took a sip and smiled to himself when he saw the slight grimace on his face. "What can I do for you, Oscar?" he asked.

"Jim, you remember that project you were working on for G&S Labs twenty years ago, back before we first met at Camp Rollins?" Oscar asked.

"Yes, I do," Jim said. "Why?"

"I was told by your supervisor at the time that project had been shelved," Oscar said. "Is there any way it could have somehow gotten out of G&S Labs?" Jim thought for a moment before answering. He shook his head.

"I don't see how," he said. "Those old project files would've been buried in the vault and only two people could access it."

"G&S shut down sometime after that incident," Oscar said. "As I recall, that happened about the time Acme scaled back its operations. Is it remotely possible those old files could've been leaked?"

"Anything's possible, Oscar," he said. "I wasn't there when that happened so I couldn't say for certain."

"Do you remember Allison Gatsby?" Oscar asked.

"Yes, I do," he said.

"Do you think she could possibly have replicated your efforts?" Oscar asked.

"It wouldn't be completely outside the realm of possibility," Jim said. "Why?"

"I'm sitting here wondering what could account for an entire population suddenly submitting itself to an absolute control freak," Oscar said. Jim shrugged his shoulders.

"There's lots of things, actually," Jim said. "There's been work with psychopharmacological agents, for example, that cause a temporary induction of hallucinations or delirium. I've read where there was supposedly a secret chemical weapons testing program run by the U.S. Army back in the 50s and 60s where they tested LSD and other drugs on thousands of soldiers. And of course, we have our own experience with MMAS and their use of mind-altering drugs."

"Could something like that account for the scenario I mentioned, where a population on the edge of possible armed revolt could suddenly change and submit itself to an authoritarian figure?" Oscar asked.

"One thing I've learned in my years working here and at G&S is that nothing is impossible," Jim said. "Having said that, in my professional opinion, the effects of those agents I mentioned before were generally temporary. And from what I know of them, their impact was mostly psychological, not physical."

"Is it remotely possible that someone could maybe mix something like that with the agent you developed?" Oscar asked.

"Yes, it is," Jim said.

"Could that account for the scenario I laid out earlier?" Oscar asked. Jim thought for a moment before answering.

"Yes, Oscar, it could, in my opinion," Jim said. Oscar nodded his head.

"I'd like you and your team to brainstorm that and see what you can come up with," Oscar said.

"You think something like that has been used?" Jim asked.

"I do," Oscar said, putting one of the photos he had on his desk so Jim could see it. "And if I'm right, it may get used again. That's why I need you on top of this." Jim's face went white as he looked at the photo.

"Is that who I think it is?" he asked.

"I believe so," Oscar said. "And I have reason to believe she may have played a role in what happened in Britain. And she's now here, in the States. That's why I'm counting on you and your team."

"We'll get right on it, Oscar," Jim said.

"Thanks," Oscar said as Jim left. He emptied Jim's coffee cup, rinsed it out and placed it back in the sterilizer. He made another pot of coffee and placed a secure video call.

"Yo, Oscar," Ron Wiseman said when he saw Oscar's face on his screen.

"You have anything for me on Allison Gatsby?" Oscar asked.

"Well, her name is now Allison Hornsby," Ron said. "It took some doing, but I was able to dig up some old CCTV surveillance footage from Heathrow and there she was, just a day or two after you tried to apprehend her. British databases are now closed off to anyone or anything not directly connected to MI5 or MI6, but I did see where she came back during the great exodus out of Britain. According to what I was able to piece together, she married a chemist named Geoff Hornsby. She came back to the States alone. I have no idea what happened to him and apparently, neither does anyone else. He just simply disappeared."

"And you think she's now connected to New Way activities here?" Oscar asked.

"Sure looks that way," Ron said. "I've only been able to get fleeting shots of her, but when I put them all together and run facial recognition, it comes up as her. A bit older, perhaps. Definitely a bit of gray, but there's no question it's her. I've spotted her at several rallies talking to different women. I've got speech software trying to piece together her conversations."

"Let me know when you get something," Oscar said.

"I will," Ron told him. "By the way, Bill asked me to let you know if I ever run across something odd."

"What did you find?" Oscar asked.

"Well, it may not seem like much, but I got something in my feed this morning," Ron said. "Turns out that about 50 relatively small aircraft were outfitted with external spray tanks. Each one flew over a small or medium-sized city that just happens to sit on a tributary feeding a larger river. The manifest claimed the tanks contained an environmentally-friendly pesticide. All the aircraft followed their flight plan and made their destination. All the tanks were empty and flushed as required. This happened about two days ago."

"And what's odd about that?" Oscar asked.

"No one has seen the pilots since then," Ron said. "On top of that, the communities involved say they never requested any such flyover or treatment. And I found no requests or orders for such flyovers."

"Now that is odd," Oscar said. "Get me a list of those cities, will ya?"

"I'm on it, boss," Ron said. It might be nothing, Oscar thought, but then again... He got the list from Ron and pulled down a large map in his office. He placed pins in all the locations Ron listed and stepped back when he was finished. That's when he realized he was looking at a basic outline of the entire Mississippi Basin, an area that stretched from the Appalachians to the Rockies.

"Holy crap," Oscar said as he looked at the map. One of the locations marked was about 50 miles outside the restricted airspace over Fort Apache. He picked up his phone and called Jim.

"Yeah, boss," Jim said when he answered.

"You have a team you can send out to collect soil and water samples?" Oscar asked.

"Yeah, sure," Jim said. "We can also borrow some other folks if we need to. What's up?"

"Not sure yet," Oscar said. "Get to my office, ASAP."

"On my way," Jim said before hanging up. By the time Jim got there, Oscar had printed off a map of the area that had been sprayed. He handed it to Jim as he walked in the office.

"I want you to take soil and water samples in this area," Oscar said, showing him the map he had just printed off. Jim looked at the map before speaking.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," Oscar said. "May be nothing. But could be a shitload of trouble. Get on it right now and report back to me the second you have results."

"Got it," Jim said, walking out of the office. He had another thought and called Ron McMaster, the head of base operations. It was a job he held for some time before Bill split base operations from field operations.

"Yeah, Oscar, what can I do for you?" Ron asked.

"I just wanted to verify something," Oscar said. "Are we still on a sealed water system?"

"Absolutely," Ron said. "Sealed and filtered just to be safe."

"What about the reservoir?" Oscar asked.

"That doesn't supply any of our potable water, but it does help feed the aquifer and the sprinkler and fire systems," Ron said. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"Not sure yet," Oscar said. "Can you do a thorough testing of the reservoir and our water supply?"

"Sure," Ron said. "It might help if I know what we're looking for."

"Anything that doesn't belong," Oscar said.

"Okay," Ron said. "When do you need this done?"

"Two days ago," Oscar said. "And I want the results immediately if not sooner. Also, I think you should close the reservoir until further notice."

"On it," Ron said. "I'll be in touch." Oscar thanked him and ended the call. He didn't want to cause any unnecessary panic, so he decided to wait until he heard back from Jim and Ron before taking any additional steps. In the meantime, he arranged to have agents conduct a quick tour of the affected towns just in case. Now it was just a matter of waiting...

...

Troy Hanson woke up with a splitting headache. He reached to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Maybe Lisa was cooking breakfast, he thought, but he didn't hear anything from the kitchen and he didn't smell anything cooking.

He looked and saw that her side of the bed looked like it hadn't been touched. Odd, he thought. Where is she? He vaguely remembered her saying she was going out with her friends for a drink last night but she still wasn't back when he went to bed. This wasn't like her at all, he thought. He got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, feeling like he usually did with a hangover. Except he wasn't drunk when he went to bed last night.

As he stood in front of the toilet to take his morning piss, he looked and saw something had changed. His dick appeared to be much smaller than usual. Normally, he sported a respectable seven inches, but this morning, it was barely two. What the hell, he asked himself. He did his business, then took his morning shower and shaved, noticing that his skin was softer than normal. He threw on his work clothes and went into the kitchen.

Seeing that nothing had been made, he started a pot of coffee and grabbed a bowl of cereal, wondering where his wife was. He looked at his phone and saw no messages or calls. He called his wife, but it went straight to voicemail. He ate his breakfast, grabbed a cup of coffee and left for work.

Silver Pine, Montana, was a fairly small community of about 5,000 people that sat on the banks of the Missouri River. Once upon a time it was much larger, but the mines ran dry and many left for greener pastures. Those who stayed eked out a living as best they could but things hadn't been going very well these last few years as the youngsters left to find better paying jobs elsewhere.

Troy had worked at the sawmill for years, as it was the only place in town that still paid a fairly decent wage. The loggers kept them well-supplied with timber, which they cut and treated, then sold to companies like Home Depot and Lowes. It was a fairly large operation and employed quite a few people, which helped support the local economy.

He got to the mill and walked into the building where he worked as a shift foreman. Donna Price, the office manager, looked up at him when he walked in.

"Christ, Troy," she said, clearly irritated about something. "You look like shit."

"Had to make my own breakfast this morning," he said. "Lisa never got home last night."

"Not surprised," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked her.

"Well, she seemed to be having a grand old time at the Truck Stop last night," Donna said. The Truck Stop was an actual truck stop, but it also sported a bar and grill and bands often came in to provide music for dancing. It was the closest thing to a "club" in the small town and it had gotten a reputation as a place one could go for a quick hook-up. Truckers often stopped to spend the night and spend time with the local women. "Last I saw, she was sandwiched between three huge truck drivers."

"What?" Troy asked. "When was this?"

"I guess about 11 or so," Donna said.

"What were they doing?" he asked. She sneered as she looked up at him.

"What do you think?" Donna asked sarcastically. "They weren't exactly holding a Bible study, that's for sure."

"Fuck," Troy said.

"Yeah, I think that's what she did," Donna said.

"Please, don't tell me that's what she was doing," he said. Donna shrugged her shoulders.

"She wasn't the only one, believe me," she said. "I think half the women in town were there, myself included."

"What were you doing there?" Troy asked, shocked. Donna was the very definition of "homebody." The idea that she would be at the Truck Stop late at night was foreign to him.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was having a good time," she said.

"Did Dale know about this?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I told him," she said. "He's my husband, not my master. If I wanna go play, that's what I'm gonna do. Now, I think you need to get to work, buster." Shocked, Troy ambled off to his office where he went over the day's work. Donna had never spoken like that to him. And the idea of her cheating on Dale was unthinkable. But she all but openly bragged about it. An hour later, Bob McDonald, the mill manager, poked his head in Troy's door.

"Hey, Bob," Troy said. "What's up?"

"Got a sec?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, sure," Troy said. "Come on in." The two of them had been good friends since they were kids -- went to the same school, played football together, served in the National Guard together and started at the mill together. They were both shift foremen when Bob was promoted to his current spot as the mill's manager.

"You notice anything different in the last day or so?" Bob asked. Troy thought about the morning before answering.

"Well, now that you mention it, yeah," Troy said. He told Bob about what happened earlier, first at home, then his encounter with Donna. "I've never known her to act like that before, and I've never known Lisa to be out all night. Plus, well, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Bob said. "Pretty much the same thing happened to me this morning. Except Brenda was still home. But she sure hasn't been herself lately. She was a stone cold bitch to me this morning, and I have no idea why."

"What's this about the Truck Stop last night?" Troy asked.

"Beats the hell outta me," Bob said. "I've heard some of the guys mention it this morning. They made it sound like there was some kind of an orgy going on or something. By the way, have you been on the floor this morning?"

"Not yet," Troy said. "I was getting ready to head over there when you came in. Why?"

"Something's up with the guys," Bob said. "It's like the strength has been sucked right outta them. I can't quite explain it. I guess you'll need to go see for yourself."

"Yeah, I'll check it out," Troy said. Just then, Donna stuck her head in Troy's office.

"Hey, you two," she said. "There's some federal guy here who wants to talk with you. Think you can quit gossiping for a minute and speak with him?"

"Yeah, sure," Troy said. "Send him on in." Donna stepped back as a medium-sized man in a dark blue windbreaker, shirt and tie stepped into the office.

"Special Agent McGregor, HomeFront Security Task Force," he said, holding a set of credentials. "Mind if we talk for a minute or two?"

"Sure," Troy said, introducing himself and Bob. "Come on in. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?"

"No, but thanks anyway," he said.

"What's this HomeFront Security Task Force?" Troy asked.

"It's a special federal unit," he said, sitting in one of the two chairs across from Troy. "We're just checking out some reports and making sure everything is alright in the area. Have either of you noticed anything a bit off or strange lately? Say, in the last day or two?" Troy and Bob looked at each other, surprised.

"Well, Agent McGregor, now that you mention it, yeah," Bob said. "We were just talking about that."

"Please, I'd be very interested in what you have to say," McGregor said. "Any information you can provide would be most useful." Troy and Bob related to McGregor what they had just been discussing. He took notes and listened intently as they talked.

"And you both experienced, er, physical changes as well?" McGregor asked. Both Troy and Bob nodded their heads and responded in the affirmative. "Interesting," he said. "Some of the folks I've spoken to said they saw chemtrails a couple days ago. Did you see those as well?"

"Yeah, I did," Troy said. "I'm not one of those conspiracy nuts or anything, but I thought it was kinda odd. We normally don't see them in these parts." McGregor nodded his head and made notes.

"So I understand," he said, looking at Troy. "Well, gentlemen, thank you for your time. If you can think of anything else, no matter how small, please give me a call." He handed them each a business card and stood up to leave. They shook hands and he exited the building. Donna watched as he made his way to the dark sedan parked out front, then picked up her cell phone and responded to the strange text she had received earlier that morning.

McGregor sat in his car for a couple of minutes before pulling out his tablet. Something had definitely happened here, he thought. But what? He had spoken to a number of people this morning and they all said pretty much the same thing. He sent Oscar a brief field report then started his car and headed for his office in Libby, where he would write up his full report. That, along with the soil and water samples he collected earlier, would be sent out that night by company jet to Fort Apache, in accordance with Oscar's instructions.

...

Later that afternoon, Oscar reviewed the field reports he received from the agents he had sent out that morning. They all said basically the same thing -- local residents experienced physical changes along with changes in behavior since the reported flights. He knew he wouldn't see any lab results until the next day, but he decided he had enough information from the field to act. He picked up his secure phone and called Bill.

"What's up, Oscar?" the older man asked when he answered.

"I think we have a problem, boss," Oscar said. "Earlier today, I spoke with Ron and he told me there were reports of aircraft making flights with spray tanks over 50 small to medium-sized communities along tributaries that flow into the Mississippi River. I plotted them out and they appear to cover the entire Mississippi Basin. One of those took place not far from here. I dispatched agents to collect samples and speak to local residents. Initial field reports indicate a change in behavior along with physical changes in the men they spoke to. Jim took water and soil samples locally and he's running an analysis, but won't have any results until tomorrow morning at the earliest."