Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three Page 5

  Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was simply the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. He’d been infatuated with her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. But it hadn’t been until they’d spoken for the first time that he’d truly fallen for her.

  Pushing his thoughts aside, Cyrus walked further into the office. Voss was seated behind his desk. He looked up and smiled; his tired, kindly eyes showed fatigue. There was a click from an unseen button somewhere behind the desk and the wall behind Voss began to change. Cyrus had been so distracted by his own concerns that he hadn’t noticed the back wall of the office was a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an expansive laboratory in the next room.

  But now, the lab beyond quickly disappeared as the glass became a pale, opaque white blocking his view into the inner sanctum. Voss had triggered the transformation via remote control. It was a shame. Cyrus really wanted a better look at the lab and chastised himself for being distracted at such an inopportune time.

  There was a door in the left corner of the wall. It was made of glass as well. While there was no visible lock, Cyrus had no doubt that there was some sort of security to prevent unauthorized access. Actually, he was surprised that Voss had invited him into his office in the first place. It almost seemed a leap of faith from a man so security conscious, or paranoid.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” Voss said to the guards. “That will be all.”

  Both men looked at Voss with apprehension. One of them, the one Cyrus knew as Wagner, seemed on the verge of protesting, but must’ve thought better of it.

  “Sorry, sir,” the other guard said, filling the awkward silence. “Dargo was very specific. We must keep Mr. Cooper under observation at all times.”

  Voss tipped his head slightly to the side and arched his eyebrows. He didn’t say a word; he only looked at the two men as if to remind them who, exactly, was in charge.

  Wagner tapped his counterpart on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll wait outside.”

  The other guard took a long look at Voss, then a longer look at his own shoes. Finally, he turned and followed Wagner through the door.

  Voss, who hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time, finally let a broad grin spread across his face. “Sometimes they forget who actually signs their paychecks,” he said on his way across the large room.

  Stepping up to Cyrus, Voss extended a hand. Not knowing what this was about, Cyrus shook it.

  “I think that you and I are overdue for a talk,” Voss said. He motioned for Cyrus to follow him back to the desk. Voss took a seat in one of the two armchairs in front of his desk and pointed Cyrus to the other.

  Dropping into the seat, Cyrus watched Voss for any hint of what was on the man’s mind. There was no doubt he had questions about what had happened the previous night. Voss would’ve questioned Natasha first, but she hadn’t mentioned such a conversation. The mission had already strayed so far from the original objective that Cyrus was actually inclined to level with Voss, at least to some degree, if necessary. The fact that his Coalition support teams had been attacked, combined with Boone being MIA, meant that all previous plans were now out the window. Added to that was the growing sense of unease that the Coalition—perhaps the Red Queen specifically—wasn’t being honest about the assignment. It was all making Cyrus increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Trust is a valued commodity,” Voss said, as if reading Cyrus’s mind. “It’s been my experience that in this world, it’s also far too difficult to come by.”

  Not sure how to respond, Cyrus simply waited him out.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed the high level of security protecting my home and family,” Voss went on. “I extended you a significant degree of trust by allowing you to recover in our infirmary.”

  Cyrus responded with only a nod.

  “I believe you repaid that trust last night when you saved my daughter’s life. Words can’t express what that means to me.”

  The more he thought about the previous night, the more Cyrus was coming to question the intended target of the hit team. It was natural to assume they were after Natasha, given all of the security surrounding the Voss family. But the moves against Boone and the attempt Cyrus had repelled at the bus terminal now gave him doubts. Could he been have the target all along?

  Voss took a deep breath. It seemed he was using the pause to search for the proper words before continuing. Cyrus sensed that whatever the man had to say next was difficult for him to voice.

  “The events of last night call certain facts into question,” Voss said at last. “Foremost among them are your intentions here. Put simply, the skills…the abilities you demonstrated last night…weren’t those of a wayward university student.”

  The implication was clear, but since no question had been asked Cyrus was reluctant to fill the silence. Still, he felt he owed the man something. He responded with a simple nod of understanding. In it was the implication that Voss should continue.

  “All of this leaves me with a dilemma. While I don’t know exactly who you are, I feel confident that you are not a threat to my family. At the same time, however, I’m equally as certain that you are not who or what you claim.”

  After another pregnant pause, Cyrus once more offered only a slow tip of his head. He debated what he could and could not—should or should not—disclose.

  Voss took even longer considering his next statement. When he finally did speak, he seemed to have come to a decision; his tone was fortified with greater conviction.

  “So while I believe that you are not being entirely honest, I have to admit that I, too, have not been entirely forthcoming with you.”

  The statement put Cyrus’s senses on full alert. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he was certain that some sort of hammer was about to fall. Given the circumstances, he had no choice but to hunker down and hope that he didn’t end up being the nail.

  “In the interest of putting all of our cards out on the table, as it were,” Voss explained, “I will level with you. After that, you’ll have the choice of whether or not to do the same with me.”

  Cyrus closed his eyes and considered Voss’s choice of words. In spite of himself, he found himself genuinely liking the man. He seemed very direct and sincere. It made Cyrus want to trust him, which wasn’t something that came easily. He had never experienced these feelings while working an undercover operation. Then again, this wasn’t like other ops. He wasn’t infiltrating a drug lord’s stronghold or working his way up the ladder to get access to an arms dealer. Voss wasn’t a criminal; he was a scientist. He was a father, and from all that Cyrus had seen, a good man.

  “Sometimes the truth is overrated,” Cyrus warned, speaking for the first time.

  Voss sat back in his chair and considered this. Perhaps he was thinking about the warning in Cyrus’s eyes more than the words themselves. Either way, he sat silently for several long seconds.

  “I specialize in memory related research,” Voss said simply. “Of course that’s not the technical name for it, but you take my meaning. Anyway, as I explained earlier, I’m developing a procedure that will aid in the treatment of numerous cognitive disorders. Alzheimer’s disease is a very good example.

  “The present stage of my research focuses on recording memories—literally archiving them for later playback. This includes everything that a subject has seen or done during a given period of time.”

  Unable to hide his fascination, Cyrus found himself leaning forward in his seat. “What type of capture are we talking about? Is it like having a video camera running behind a person’s eyes?”

  With a grin, Voss shook his head. “It’s far more immersive. We’re capturing everything about the subject’s experience—sight, sound, taste, and smell. Even the emotions experienced. Everything but the sense of touch,” he admitted.

  “Why not touch?”

  Voss’s face scrunched at the question, looking like he had tasted something unpleasant. “It’s important to realize that the
mind is entirely separate from the brain, though many wrongly consider them to be one and the same. But the mind is intangible whereas the brain is a tangible, physical organ. And though they are very different, they’re also directly connected. What the mind realizes, the brain acts upon.

  “So, say the subject of the recording experiences an injury. The experience of that pain response is recorded along with all of the related sensory input, and passed along to whoever retrieves those memories. The retrieval subject would literally experience the pain of the injury, though without the related physical disfigurement.”

  Cyrus sat back and considered the implications.

  “You’re saying that if the subject experienced a significant enough trauma…say, a heart attack—” Cyrus began.

  “It could very well trigger a heart attack in anyone who replayed the experience,” Voss confirmed. “There are some exceedingly dangerous aspects to this technology, I’ll admit.”

  So pain could be inflicted without any telltale signs of bodily harm. Plus, the mind could be tricked into triggering a deadly physical response—like a heart attack.

  Cyrus shivered. That was only scratching the surface of what more deviously creative minds might achieve using the tool. His imagination reeled with the implications. There were countless new and interesting ways the technology could and would be weaponized. On a lighter note, an errant thought crossed his mind. He realized how the technology would also be exploited for frivolous purposes, such as sexual gratification. It never failed; the two forces that ultimately brought the best and worst out of people were sex and violence.

  “As a result,” Voss explained, “touch was the first of the senses to be purposefully removed from the project. It held the greatest dangers.”

  “And the most potential for abuse,” Cyrus offered.

  This brought a knowing nod from Voss. Cyrus knew he understood exactly what he’d been thinking.

  “But it’s important that you understand how the technology works,” Voss went on.

  This caught Cyrus off guard.

  How the technology works?

  “Wait a minute,” Cyrus sputtered. “Are you saying you have this stuff working, now? That it’s not just a theory, or an idea?”

  Voss grinned. “Of course. The components you delivered from Professor Ragsdale simply allowed me to augment and accelerate the memory restoration process. But I have a working prototype. It’s simply a matter of fine-tuning the settings and optimizing the necessary chemical portion of the procedure.

  “It’s particularly important that you understand the chemical component,” Voss said with emphasis.

  With that simple statement, Cyrus became uneasy. He was certain Voss was referring to something specific. And as much as he wanted to rush things along, he let the scientist continue at his own pace.

  “As I said before,” Voss went on, “the mind is an intangible entity while the brain is malleable and tangible. Think of the brain as a computer hard drive; the mind is the software that resides on that hard drive. Are you with me?”

  Cyrus offered a cautious nod. He had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the hard drive in this metaphor. Was this the experiment he had agreed to when he said he would allow Voss to test his photographic memory? If so, it sounded more invasive than he’d originally expected. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t let Voss, or anyone else, near his thoughts and memories. They contained far too much sensitive information. It would be a catastrophic breach. There was no question; he couldn’t allow such an experiment to take place.

  “So if the mind constitutes the sum of all the information that a brain contains, as well as other intangibles that make us who we are, the trick becomes accessing only a portion of what the mind contains. It’s not practical to capture the full contents of what reside in the mind. The mind is more than memories; it’s also made up of emotions and beliefs. Its dozens of other details that, when combined, make us individuals. As a whole, there’s simply too much information for anyone to integrate into their own cognitive construct.

  “One person, essentially having the full life experiences of two individuals in their head? That’s a one-way ticket to a straitjacket. I’m sure you would agree?”

  “Yeah. I could see how that’s a big problem. Most people can barely keep track of their own lives, let alone multiple lives—multiple personalities.”

  “Right,” Voss laughed. “So I developed a drug—a drug cocktail, actually. It acts as a marker of sorts. It serves as a chemical bookmark in the subject’s brain, designating the neurological locations of all new memories formed from that point forward.”

  Scratching his jaw, Cyrus sat back and considered the simplicity of the solution. “Sure,” he said. “You’re essentially tagging the person’s new memories. But doesn’t that mean every memory from that point on is also flagged? In perpetuity? Don’t you sort of have the same problem as before—essentially gathering too much data over time?”

  Voss’s eyes gleamed in response to the question. “There are no flies on you, are there?” he laughed. “You’re exactly right. That’s why the tag breaks down, essentially degrading into a benign protein compound after twenty-four hours.

  “Twenty-four hours after the tag is put in place, unless it’s reinforced with another dose of the drug, the tag dissipates and the bookmarked memories are no longer retrievable.”

  Shifting in his chair, Cyrus took a fresh look at the man before him. Putting all preconceived notions aside, he regarded Voss anew. There was a kindness in his eyes and an unmistakable gleam that shone when he spoke about his work. But there was also a hint of something more. If he didn’t know better, Cyrus guessed the man was feeling guilty about something.

  “That twenty-four hour period,” Cyrus said, “wouldn’t have any correlation to the daily antibiotic injections I’ve been receiving, would it?”

  When Voss’s gaze dropped away for the first time, Cyrus realized his guess was right on the mark.

  He’d been tagged.

  Likely tagged when he’d first entered the compound.

  Letting the silence between them drift on, Cyrus considered the implications of what Voss had done. Exposure to his memories represented a serious breach of security. Voss was now a threat to his safety as well as a danger to the Coalition. If Voss was allowed to retrieve everything Cyrus had thought about since arriving at the compound, Cyrus knew his mission was likely to be compromised. Not only his thoughts, but also every memory he’d experienced since his arrival would be laid bare for Voss’s perusal.

  The consequences were almost too much to consider.

  “When you arrived here,” Voss said finally, “I considered tagging you to be a wise security precaution. I couldn’t turn you out into the street—certainly not when your life was in danger. But my first priority is to protect my family.”

  “And your work,” Cyrus added in a dry, unsympathetic tone.

  A look of pain crossed Voss’s visage. He shook his head slowly. “My work is nothing when compared to the safety of my family. When it comes to the two, there is no competition.”

  He took a long pause, apparently giving his next words great consideration before continuing. “I lost my wife many years ago. It caused me great pain. At the time, I was overly consumed by my work…it is a mistake I’ll never make again. Family always comes first.”

  “I know about the loss of your wife,” Cyrus said, his words softening again.

  Voss’s surprise was plainly evident on his face. “What do you know about that?”

  “To be honest, I have more questions than answers,” Cyrus admitted. “I guess you’ll soon see for yourself, if you intend to use your procedure on me.”

  The piercing look Voss offered at Cyrus’s mention of his wife quickly withered. His eyes once more sought the floor. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you in private,” he said in a soft voice. “Given the events of the last day in particular, I must admit I’ve developed a certain
respect for you. I was never entirely comfortable tagging you without your knowledge. I find myself unable to complete the procedure after what you did for my daughter.”

  Cyrus was glad Voss was still looking away because he was unable to mask his surprise. He was left momentarily speechless. Voss was proving to be worthy of his respect, after all.

  They sat in silence for longer than either would have preferred; neither seemed to know what to say or do next.

  “Your procedure,” Cyrus began. “You’re telling me you can actually transplant my memories of the last week and place them into your mind, complete with everything that I’ve thought, tasted, seen, and heard?”

  Voss nodded.

  “What about the memories I’ve experienced over the last week? For example, memories I’ve recalled from years in the past. Would those be transplanted?”

  “Of course,” Voss confirmed, matter-of-factly.

  Hanging his head, Cyrus slowly rubbed at the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t ideal under the best of circumstances. What he had in mind had the potential to rocket his investigation forward…or cause it to blow up in his face with shocking efficiency. It would all depend on Voss.

  Being that the circumstances around Cyrus’s mission had changed since his arrival at the compound, with Voss’s technology no longer the objective, Cyrus had new concerns. There had been an attempt on his life, one on Natasha’s, and Boone was now missing. Boone was either dead or he’d gone dark, dropping off the grid and hiding out in response to the attack on his team. Either way, that end of the operation had gone sideways, and finding out why was now imperative. Cyrus knew two things with certainty. First, everything happening now was centered around Voss’s work. Second, whoever was behind the attacks had professional resources who wouldn’t stop until they accomplished their objective.