Obsession-Compulsion, by Mudak
Chapter Seventy Five
Agents Viktor Karovski and Deirdre Gomez arrived separately on campus to watch the motions of Ashley Steinmetz, a known slave who, if the plan worked properly, would set in motion the process of taking down Dr. Gordon Wallingford. Wallingford was believed to be the mastermind behind the so-called “slave disease” that had led to an atmosphere of fear and distrust for the better part of the past academic year.
Agent Gomez decided to hang around at the student union building. The Steinmetz girl was known to stop there for a cup of coffee on some mornings, so Gomez decided that, even if her path did not cross with Ashley’s, then at least she’d be able to get a feel for how the students on campus were handling the recent news of the arrest of Dr. Richard Stanwyck in the case. Although credible information was extracted from Stanwyck, the official position of the FBI was that he was a red herring, placed there to throw the agents investigating this matter off of the trail of the true culprit, Dr. Wallingford.
An a small open space, there was a young man, speaking with great energy and flair, in front of a small group of students. Gomez moved in to see and hear better what he was saying and doing. As she approached him, she saw that his tone was a mixture of anger, passion, and frustration. “...be fooled! Stanwyck’s arrest does NOT mean that the virus is real! Don’t be fooled!”
A girl who was among the crowd of people listening spoke up. “Oh, come on, Dylan! How can you honestly say that the virus doesn’t exist? Haven’t you read the article in the paper? Surely even you have to admit that the virus exists now!”
Agent Gomez smiled and nodded. This must be Dylan LeFebre, she thought. The famous student who has been leading a small group of students into believing that the entire virus is a hoax.
Dylan responded to his accuser. “Of course I read the article. It was very well-written. All it really proves, though, is that Stanwyck is the person who identified himself as John Smith all those months ago and made up this story of the slave virus. Even without the virus, Stanwyck could probably be charged with who knows how many crimes? Disturbance of the peace comes to mind. Probably bribery and extortion, too. He nearly incited a riot that first month, remember?”
“But what about those computer files that the whistleblower looked at?”
“She had to have been reading them wrong.”
“What do you—”
“What do I mean? There were no names. Just a bunch of numbers. I give her credit for figuring out that the F stood for female and the M stood for male. But that’s not even proof that the files were talking about human beings. And think about this. The one F-number went up by, what was it? 26 people? In one week?!? Let’s just assume, for the sake of argument that this was some girl on campus, who went around fucking people to infect them with this virus.
“So. This girl is going around trying to get into everyone’s pants. On average she fucked three and a half people per day. Getting laid that many times in one week. And that’s assuming that she didn’t fuck the same person twice, once before and once after the ‘infection’ took place. Do you really think one person would be able to do it that much? And then not know about it later? You’d think she’d be sore, or get a UTI, or something.
“No. The more likely scenario is that this number represents something other than the proclivities of an allegedly infected nymphomaniac.”
Agent Gomez stepped forward. “Have you heard about whether Dr. Stanwyck will be formally charged with any crimes?”
“No, I haven’t. Have you?”
“Nope.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, even if you don’t believe that the virus exists—and you’re free to believe that—isn’t everyone innocent until proven guilty? He hasn’t even formally been charged with any crimes and already you’re assuming that he’s guilty of whatever it is you think he’s done. Even if it’s short of actually enslaving students, he still has a right to fair representation and all of the other rights we sometimes take for granted.”
Several of the students started to disperse from the crowd watching Dylan as this exchange took place.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Dylan waxed apologetic as he gazed down at his shoes.
Gomez surveyed the area where she stood and found that about half of the students who were listening to Dylan, had walked away when she approached him. “Oh, dear. Did I scare all of those people away?”
“No. It’s just that people haven’t been listening to me as much since the news of Stanwyck’s arrest.”
“Do you leave any room for the possibility that the virus might exist?”
He looked around, and, in a low voice to Gomez, remarked, “Yes, I do. That news definitely added a degree of, um, plausibility to the overall story.” Once he got past what clearly would have been embarrassing for too many people to know, he returned to his normal, echoing voice. “Still, I stand by my assertion that the virus is a hoax.”
“That’s a good thing, to stand by your convictions like that. Just don’t let your certainty, your faith that you’re right, blind you to the possibility that your version of the truth may not be the real truth. It sounds like you’re doing that, but you’ve just got too much invested in your side of the story.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Gomez saw Junior Agent Sara Colburn enter the student union building. Thinking quickly, she glanced down at her watch and politely excused herself from this conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been good talking to you, but I’ve got an appointment across campus. I’ll see you around.” With that, she disappeared behind a corner before Colburn was close enough to recognize her.
Gomez struggled to hear Sara’s comments to Dylan. It started out with what sounded like the activation phrases, but the words were slightly too quiet. She crouched low and kept herself hidden as she moved closer. The look on his face clearly indicated that something was going on. Once close enough to hear something, she heard her colleague say, in a low monotone, “... must continue with your denials of the existence of the virus. Ramp up your efforts. Write another letter to the editor. The arrest of Stanwyck must not shake anyone’s faith in you. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good. On the count of three you will awaken.”
Gomez quickly ran behind a stairwell as the undercover FBI agent started counting. This was, undoubtedly, the proof that Colburn had been compromised. She let out a sigh.
Chapter Seventy Six
Doctor Lawrence Ogilvie of the Centers for Disease Control stepped out of the room in which Ophelia Quinn was resting. Agent Michael Warrington and FBI Director Louis Godfrey were waiting outside of the room. “She seems to be doing all right now. When she’s not in so-called ‘slave mode’ she is starting to act rationally and responsibly again. She asked me what she’s doing here, and I told her that this is a routine examination of all of the students on campus, considering everything we know about the slave virus. She seemed to accept that, at least for now.”
“So she didn’t suffer any permanent damage?” Warrington probed deeper.
“I’m not sure of that. Take a look.” The three men glanced through the window and saw her rubbing her breasts with a look of near detachment in her expression.
Godfrey scanned the faces of Ogilvie and Warrington; both men had a look that clearly indicated a reluctance to speak the obvious, so he said it: “It could be worse.”
Both men nodded in agreement.
“Thank you, Dr. Ogilvie,” agent Warrington continued. “Do you have anything else you’d like to share at this point?”
“Only that this entire piece is fascinating. I’m going to go down to your lab to run additional experiments on these samples I collected.”
“Have fun.”
Godfrey looked at Warrington. “Where are Gomez and Karovski right now?”
“On campus. Surveilling our target subject.”
“Good. If this works, we’ll be able to take down Wallingford and put him away for life.”
“That’s true, but honestly, I’m most interested in the neutralization of his virus.”
“Agreed. Civilian safety is the most important. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got two questions for you; hopefully you’ve got a good set of contingency plans on each of these.”
“Shoot.” Warrington wasn’t sure what these questions were.
“What happens if Wallingford changes the password on you?”
“We’ve thought about that. This is why we’re keeping Steubens under permanent slave status. From what we understand of the way it works—and this is one reliable thing we learned from Stanwyck—a change of password would cause all actively controlled slaves to cease listening to their master. I’ll confirm this with Steubens, but we’re prepared for the unlikely scenario by pulling Gomez and Karovski out if it does happen.”
“Good. My second question is whether or not there are limits to what you can make a slave do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think that the slaves might have some programming that would prevent them from carrying out their part of our plan?”
Warrington opened his mouth to speak and realized that he wasn’t sure of the answer to this. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” Warrington casually walked down the hallway of the holding cells and entered the cell where Agent Steubens was sitting, motionless, with a glassy-eyed stare.
“Agent Steubens?”
“Yes, master.”
“I want to ask you a few questions. You must answer me honestly. If you may not answer me honestly, then tell me that you may not answer honestly.” Agent Warrington paused for a moment. Ever since the real password—and not just a rented password—had been used as a part of slave interrogation, the idea of someone answering dishonestly had become the most unlikely in an already improbable investigation. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.”
He decided to confirm his understanding of the nature of slave passwords first. “What would it take to change the password used to activate slaves?”
“It can only happen at a shift change at the lab. The six slaves involved in the shift change are placed in coitus and suspended animation attached to the main computer. A call then goes out to all other active slaves to stop whatever they’re doing and join the six slaves. If the number of activated men and women at this point is not the same, additional slaves must be found to join the ranks of the slaves who will help with the password change. Once everyone is connected to the computer, the password change will take place.”
“What happens if a slave can’t reach the main computer?”
“After ten minutes, the program aborts and the slaves return to whatever they were doing. It then becomes necessary to try again at the next shift change.”
“I understand.”
“Is there anything else, master?”
“Yes. Is there anything you can’t do, even if I command you to do so?”
“No one may have sex with Dr. Gordon Wallingford.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know, master?”
“Is that true for both when someone is and is not actively under slave control?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Please return to the task I had assigned you previously.”
“Yes, master. Thank you.” He sat down in his seat and froze every muscle in his body. His task, clearly, was to act as a statue.
Chapter Seventy Seven
Following what could be deemed a reasonably successful surveillance of the student Ashley Steinmetz, agents Karovski and Gomez returned to the safe house. Agent Warrington was waiting for them there.
Agent Gomez was taken aback when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“Well, we have a good sense of the places she frequents and think our best bet for catching her is either near the on-campus gym, or near Milford’s newspaper. We plan to make our next move tomorrow.
“You might need to add a step to your plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“We interrogated Steubens today.”
“And...”
“I don’t think you’ve got too much to worry about the password changing. If Wallingford hasn’t yet, he probably wont.”
“That’s good news.”
“Not really.”
“Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say you need to find some way of getting the Steinmetz girl to do what we want her to do, without knowing that she’s doing it, either as a slave or as herself.”
Karovski and Gomez looked at each other, mouths agape and eyes wide. Warrington continued. “i need you to come up with a different plan. Or at least expand on the plan you have. Think about it tonight and let me know in the morning what, if anything, you come up with.”
Warrington walked out the door before they could reveal that they had learned that Colburn had definitely been compromised.
The two of them paced around the sitting room for a short while before Karovski spoke. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s pick something up. And then we split up.”
Chapter Seventy Eight
When Warrington called Gomez and Karovski the following morning, Gomez answered the phone.
“Do you have any ideas?
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“We need an accessory. We think a toy store would be the best place to get it. How much can we expense for this?”
“How much do you need?”
“Not sure. Maybe fifty. Seventy five.”
“Go for it.”
“What’s at a toystore?”
“A gift for Wallingford.”
“A gift?”
“Yes. A gift. To be delivered by none other than our own Sara Colburn.”
“Why bring her into it?”
“Because I didn’t have the chance to tell you this last night. We confirmed yesterday that she’s been compromised.”
“Not surprised.”
“Didn’t think you would be.”
“Viktor and I are going to split up tomorrow. I’ll take care of Colburn and he’ll take care of the Steinmetz girl. I may also pay a visit to our intrepid reporter, Gary Milford.”
Warrington smiled broadly. “I think I know what your plan is. Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As Agent Gomez hung up the phone, she related to her colleague that they were given the authority to make the purchase of an item that they hoped could be used to bring down Dr. Wallingford.
Agent Karovski nodded at his colleague. “Toy store, then?”
“Yup.” Agent Gomez smiled broadly. For some reason, the idea of using something bought at a toy store, to become their suspect’s ultimate undoing, was too exciting, too funny, too delicious to restrain. Besides, she’d have to get all of her emotions out now if they were going to accomplish their mission.
They arrived at a small toy store a few miles from the University campus shortly after they opened and started to wander up and down the aisles, looking for an object that would be sufficiently recognizable while simultaneously rare enough to make work.
Gomez stopped for a minute when she saw them not more than 20 yards from the cash register. She stood there, mouth slightly agape as a mischievous grin formed at the corners of her lips. Karovski noticed this and traced her line of sight to the display on the wall opposite them.
“Which one do you think we should get?”
“Good question,” responded Gomez.
“Let’s not get the pink or the purple ones.”
“True. How about that one?” Gomez picked up the yellowish teddy bear with a smiling orange sun over its white abdomen. It was about two feet long and was instantly recognizable as the children’s toy known as a Care Bear. “This one’s called the Funshine Bear.”
After a brief silence, Karovski said, “Let’s get it. With any luck, this will be the undoing of Dr. John Smith.”