Chapter 10 - THE PLACE WHERE ETHAN DIED
The address led north.
Past Denver.
Past Boulder.
Into the mountains.
An abandoned neurological rehabilitation center outside Nederland.
Officially closed in 2003.
The Consortium purchased it through shell companies in 2004.
Mason insisted on surveillance.
Ethan allowed it.
But he entered alone.
Rain began as he crossed the parking lot.
The building smelled of wet concrete and abandoned machinery.
His flashlight revealed peeling paint.
Broken ceiling panels.
Old wheelchairs.
Every step awakened something.
A door.
A scream.
Numbers being repeated.
Light.
Pain.
Caleb.
Ethan reached the second floor.
A projector turned on automatically.
An image appeared on the wall.
Ethan himself.
Twenty-two years younger.
Strapped to a chair.
Frank stood beside him.
Vale stood nearby.
Mason entered the frame.
Ethan stopped breathing.
The recorded Mason looked horrified.
“What have you done?”
Frank answered.
“What was necessary.”
“Release him.”
“He knows too much.”
“He’s one of mine.”
“He was.”
Ethan looked toward the real Mason listening remotely through an earpiece.
Neither spoke.
The recording continued.
Young Ethan lifted his head.
“Daniel?”
Mason stepped toward him.
“I’m getting you out.”
Frank pulled a weapon.
“You’re getting yourself buried.”
A struggle.
Vale shouted.
Caleb screamed off camera.
Then the recording cut.
A new scene appeared.
Ethan in a different room.
Frank’s voice:
“Tell me your name.”
“Ethan Walker.”
“Wrong.”
Electric current surged.
Ethan screamed.
“Tell me your name.”
“Ethan Walker.”
Again.
Hours compressed into seconds.
Days.
Maybe weeks.
Then another recording.
Frank asked, “Who is Caleb?”
Ethan answered, “My son.”
“Who is Christine?”
Ethan frowned.
“I don’t know.”
The real Ethan felt sick.
They had conditioned Caleb into his memory before he ever consciously met Christine.
Another clip.
Sixteen-year-old Christine entered a room carrying water.
Young Ethan looked at her.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Christine whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“What’s your name?”
“Christine.”
Frank stormed in.
He struck her.
Ethan lunged.
The video froze.
Text appeared on the projection.
PROTECTIVE TRANSFERENCE SUCCESSFUL.
Ethan stared.
They had used Christine too.
Not as an observer.
As a stimulus.
The projector changed.
Adult Christine.
2014.
A bookstore security camera.
Ethan entered.
Christine saw him.
Vale’s voice on audio said:
“Contact established.”
Ethan’s blood went cold.
The bookstore meeting had not been accidental.
Vale had lied.
Or Christine had.
The footage continued.
Christine stepped outside after Ethan left.
Frank waited in a vehicle.
He asked, “Did he recognize you?”
Christine shook her head.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Dad, I don’t want to do this.”
“You already are.”
The screen went black.
Ethan whispered, “Christine.”
His phone vibrated.
She was calling.
He answered.
“Ethan?”
He said nothing.
“Are you okay?”
“You knew.”
Silence.
“About the bookstore.”
Christine began crying.
“Ethan.”
“You knew I would be there.”
“Yes.”
The word cut deeper than he expected.
“Why?”
“My father ordered me.”
“And you married me.”
“That wasn’t ordered.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
At least she didn’t lie now.
Ethan stared at the dark projection screen.
“Did you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after you were assigned to meet me?”
“After.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
She continued.
“I was supposed to watch you for six months.”
“How long?”
“Twelve years.”
“That wasn’t the assignment.”
“No.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because you became my family.”
“And yet you kept reporting to Frank.”
Silence.
“How long?”
“Until Jake was born.”
“Why stop?”
“Because Dad asked for access to him.”
Ethan opened his eyes.
“And you gave it eventually.”
“I thought one weekend would end it.”
“One weekend gave them my son.”
“I know.”
Ethan disconnected.
A door opened behind him.
Frank Walker stepped into the hall.
Red sweater.
Gray pants.
Same clothes he wore while hurting Jake.
“You always did choose the dramatic route,” Frank said.
Ethan turned.
Frank held no visible weapon.
“Where are Brian and Scott?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Not your concern.”
“They touched my son.”
Frank smiled.
“Your son performed beautifully.”
Ethan remained calm.
Frank noticed.
“That’s disappointing.”
“What?”
“I expected more anger.”
“You wanted anger.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because JANUS opens under emotional overload.”
Ethan looked at him.
“What’s inside?”
Frank smiled wider.
“You already know.”
“No.”
“That’s the beauty of it.”
Frank stepped closer.
“You found something in Afghanistan twenty-two years ago.”
“The ledger.”
“Not just the ledger.”
“What else?”
Frank’s eyes gleamed.
“A name.”
“Whose?”
“The person above all of us.”
Ethan’s pulse changed.
“Who?”
Frank shook his head.
“You buried it in yourself before we caught you.”
Ethan frowned.
“I what?”
“You knew your team was compromised. So you memorized the identity, destroyed the physical evidence, and used a mnemonic lock.”
Mason’s voice came through Ethan’s earpiece.
“That’s possible.”
Frank heard the tiny sound and laughed.
“Daniel listening?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Frank looked toward the ceiling.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Mason cursed.
Frank continued.
“We spent years trying to open Ethan’s memory.”
“Why Jake?”
“Because biological attachment creates stronger neural pathways than artificial conditioning.”
Ethan’s fists tightened.
“You hurt my son to unlock a memory.”
“Yes.”
“Was it worth it?”
Frank looked at him.
“We’re about to find out.”
A speaker clicked.
Jake’s voice filled the corridor.
“Dad?”
Ethan’s blood froze.
It sounded live.
“Jake?”
“Dad, where are you?”
Ethan turned toward Frank.
Frank smiled.
“Rachel Pike is very good.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“If you touched him—”
“But she trusts old friends.”
Mason shouted through the earpiece.
“Ethan, get out. We’re checking the clinic.”
Frank said, “Too late.”
Jake cried through the speaker.
“Dad!”
Ethan’s calm cracked.
And suddenly the building disappeared.
White light exploded behind his eyes.
A name surfaced from somewhere buried twenty-two years deep.
Not Frank.
Not Vale.
Not Mason.
Someone else.
Ethan whispered it.
Frank’s smile vanished.
“What did you say?”
Ethan looked at him.
Now Frank was afraid.
May you like
Ethan repeated the name.
“Senator Nathaniel Cross.”
