Chapter 25
Everything looked like it was coming together. The CIA had complied with the judge's order, and we had deposed the three agents. They all gave the same name, of a person in their immediate chain of command, who had gone missing when the shit hit the fan.
Both the FBI and the CIA were actively searching for CIA supervisor Lyle Barns, the man who ordered the three covert agents to violate the law, and my rights. He had a lot to answer for. My attorney said that the government had changed its position, and was actively seeking a settlement with me.
That was, until two days ago. Damn it anyway! John Gilchrist called me, asking me to use my talent for the benefit of a child he knew. Yes, you guessed it. The same John Gilchrist from college, one of the two men I had told, who actually believed I could 'view' the past. While I was sympathetic, I had repeatedly explained to him that I was not part of Child Protective Services. All the states maintained bureaucracies whose sole purpose in life was to insure children were safe, and make the parents' lives a living hell. The two seemed to go hand in hand to me. I explained to John that while I was saddened by the story he had given me, I reminded him that I was not dedicating my life to his 'pet project'. Besides, I was busy. If I caved on this, it would never ever end.
He reasoned with me, cajoled me, and told me I was going to hell. I listened for a bit then told him that it had been nice hearing from him, and perhaps we could do this again in a year or five, and hung up.
Two days later I received a polite call from the FBI asking if I would come down to their offices for a conference of mutual benefit. Thinking it was about the possible settlement over the CIA's spying on me, I told my attorney to meet me at the downtown office of the local FBI, and at what time.
I know, I know. I just wasn't thinking. The settlement would not have been done at the office of the FBI; it would have been done at the US attorney's office. My attorney would have told me that if I had just talked to him instead of having a message relayed to him of where and when to meet me.
I arrived about ten minutes before the appointed time, and waited in the lobby of the federal building for my attorney. I was reading a paper when an agent approached me.
"Mr. Wilshire? I am agent Darlene Madison. If you will follow me, I will show you to the office you need to go to," said a very lovely woman.
"I am waiting for my attorney. He should be here in a few minutes," I responded, but I had risen to my feet, out of politeness.
"We can have him escorted to the room if you'd like. We really want to get started," she said, instantly raising a warning flag in my mind.
Get started without my attorney? Not even the FBI could think I was stupid enough to enter into a deal with the US government, without having my attorney present. I just stared at agent Madison.
"Or, we could wait here for your lawyer," she said after a moment, grinning at me.
I relaxed, and returned her grin with a smile of my own. She sat down on the bench next to me. We made small talk until my attorney, Richard Kelso, arrived.
"Tom! There you are. You should have cleared this with me before you came down here. I have spent most of the morning at the US Attorneys office settling most of the issues of your case. Which brings us to, 'exactly why are we here'?" Richard said this last, looking at agent Madison.
"I am sure everything will be made clear to you, if you would just follow me up to the third floor. I have taken the liberty of getting badges for the both of you," she said, pulling generic 'visitor' badges out of her breast pocket for us.
I was curious now, and a little apprehensive. Something was off, here, but what? We went into the elevator and got off on the third floor. We went through a door marked, 'Deputy Director Lawrence Preston'.
I found myself in a reception room, which was nicer than a lot of offices I had been in. Almost as soon as we entered we were told to go through yet another door that was inside.
I wondered if the average taxpayer knew what kind of equipment that an assistant director rated. It looked like an oak desk polished to a warm glow. The carpet was a deep green that was pleasing to the eye. Two windows provided afternoon light into the room.
A leather couch sat along one wall, out of direct light, and two leather chairs were facing the couch across a glass coffee table. What appeared to be some sort of entertainment center was against another wall.
The short, balding man with glasses, was about sixty years old. He was dressed in a dark suit, and was standing and waiting for us as we entered. Also in the room, were two other younger men, standing off to the side, dressed in the prerequisite FBI suits. What was it about the FBI that made them dress the same?
"Mr. Wilshire, it's a pleasure to meet you sir. I'm Lawrence Preston, and so very glad to make your acquaintance," the bald man said pumping my hand energetically.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Of all scenarios I had envisioned, this was not one of them. It made me suspicious, automatically. As it turned out, my hunch was right, but I hadn't realized how right!
"My two associates are Munson, and Kirkland. This would be your attorney, Mr. Kelso?"
I nodded, and another round of handshaking went on.
"I have to say Mr. Wilshire, I am impressed! This ability you display is most intriguing! Most intriguing, and most remarkable indeed," Preston said enthusiastically.
Worse and worse. At that moment I saw the videotape. I sighed. I recognized the tape. It was one that Levy and John had made while I was learning to view time or 'back time' as I call it. I still hadn't said anything.
"I understand your reluctance to talk about it, Mr. Wilshire. A most unique talent indeed. The government would like to hire you, and to study this ability of yours," Preston said to me.
"What are you talking about?" My lawyer asked in a confused tone of voice.
"You don't know? Your client has a very unique talent, Mr. Kelso. Mr. Wilshire has the ability to view past time. No, not on the TV or in the movies. He can be somewhere, here for example, and look backwards in time. He can see what has gone before or whatever has happened or is said in a room. Am I right Mr. Wilshire?" Preston asked me.
My lawyer looked at me and I still had not said anything up to now in response. Something in me snapped! All right, they knew. By god, it was out, at least a bit of it, and I was going to get this straightened out once and for all!
"What he is referring to, Richard, is my ability to 'back time' as I call it. I found out I could do this when I was in the eighth grade. Someone in college helped me develop this ability. Because I would not become his slave and do what he wanted, when he wanted it; he decided to tell the federal authorities, since he knew it was something I did not want them to know," I finished grimly.
"You mean you can actually do this thing?" my attorney said, gawking at me.
"Oh, yes! And I will not let the government study me, use me, threaten me, coerce me, or otherwise take control of my life, simply because I can do this thing," I said, looking directly at Lawrence Preston.
That started over an hour of talking, and Preston tried his best to get me to change my mind. He was very convincing, and I honestly believe he had the country's best interests at heart. Which meant my interests were non-existent!
I finally stood. "You see why I never bothered to reveal this ability before? For a good hour you have tried to convince me to come to work for you, making all sorts of offers, and not a few veiled and direct threats. All for the benefit of Big Brother, you understand. Never for my own.
"NO! That's my final answer," I said and started for the door.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Wilshire. I can't let you leave," Preston said, and the two men who had remained in the background now moved forward.
"Really? Why is that?" I asked curiously.
"I had hoped we could come to an agreement we both could live with. As it is, I took steps prior to your arrival, and I have gotten a court order for a seventy-two hour hold while your mental state is assessed. You are a possible danger to yourself, or others, Mr. Wilshire," Preston said in a sad sort of voice.
"Really? Amazing! How did I manage to go all these years without blowing my top? Must be a miracle," I said sarcastically.
My lawyer was instantly on his feet, protesting and threatening court action. One of the two silent guys presented a piece of paper to my attorney who read it.
"It's an order for a temporary hold on you, Tom," my attorney finally said.
"I will expect you to get our own doctors involved as soon as possible. Something tells me that the local loony bin is not up to my standards," I told my attorney.
"I will get on it right away. I will also appeal this decision since it seemed to be hinged on your cooperating with the government's desire. It is patently a move designed to intimidate and coerce," my attorney said.
I emptied my pockets, and gave everything I had in them, to my attorney. I didn't want the government handling anything of mine.
"Have this stuff ready for me on my departure from wherever they stash me. If for some reason you have a hard time finding me, open the letter I left with you marked 3B. I am sure the government and the press will both be interested in the contents. Particularly the press," I said to my attorney.
Lawrence Preston raised an eyebrow at this.
"Insurance. Never fuck with a man who can look and hear into the past. Some of the things one hears and witnesses, can be very interesting," I said with an unpleasant grin.
I wanted to give them time to rethink their position. I could teleport out, going through the NTZ; but I didn't want to reveal that ability to my government. Just the fact that I had admitted to being able simply to see the past had them orgasming over the possibilities this presented for THEM.
Two hours later I was isolated in the security wing of the local hospital. I was even segregated from the other inmates. I don't pretend to know what the usual practice is, but I am sure a room to myself, with a camera, was not normal.
Call me shy, but I wet some toilet paper. I covered the protective cover for the camera with it, and did my business. Almost as soon as I was done, I had several attendants opening my door and looking around. I flushed the toilet.
"Mr. Wilshire, the rules you were told forbid you to block the cameras view. It is for your own protection after all. While it may be uncomfortable, we are medical personal here, and we have seen it all. No need for privacy using the toilet," I was told by a matronly lady who was at least 20 pounds overweight.
"Ma'am, no offense meant, but I will not sit on this toilette and be watched by a bunch of perverts, using insanity as an excuse to invade someone's privacy," I said grimly.
"Mr. Wilshire, it is not perversion. You must adhere to the rules while you are under the seventy-two hour hold. We are all professionals here," she said.
With that, she and her two hulking sidekicks left my room, and the door clanged shut and I heard the lock click. I sighed and wished I had something better to wear than the thin pajamas they had issued me.
What followed was a nightmare of having blood drawn, forced to urinate in a cup with a hospital goon watching, and answering a whole list of personal questions that had no bearing on my sanity (if you asked me).
I was then taken to another room, told to wait, and was locked in for a short time. Finally another door opened, and I was asked to step through into a doctor's office.
"Good afternoon Tom. May I call you Tom? I am doctor Kreager. I will be evaluating you concerning the protection order," he said.
"Well, you can call me Tom, because it's my name. As for being here, I am here involuntarily, and hope you won't hold my feelings of being a 'prisoner against my will' against me," I said with only a hint of a snarl. I was rather proud that I was civil with him.
We met for about twenty minutes. It was a QA session. Mostly he asked the questions and I answered.
Q: Have you ever contemplated killing yourself?
A: No.
Q: Have you ever wanted to hurt or kill someone else?
A: Of course I have wanted to hurt other people. I don't think you can live for as long as I have, without wanting to hurt someone at some time.
I had to explain in some detail what I meant, and he wrote down pertinent points. So it went for a while.
"I am going to prescribe a mild tranquilizer for this evening. Most people in your position have a hard time adjusting to their environment, as it is a shock at first," Kreager said while dismissing me.
"You think?" I responded sourly.
"You will find the seventy two hours goes by fairly quickly, Tom. Try to cooperate and it will go easy on you, too," he said.
An attendant showed up to escort me to my room. Room! What a joke! It was a cell, plain and simple. A short time after my return, a meal of sorts showed up.
Edited By TeNderLoin