Trellis: Trellis Trilogy (One) Read online

  Another issue Dr. Salvaggi had with the two men that were fulfilling Trellis’ brain orders, he thought at least one of them was enjoying the killings. In his righteousness, he thought what they were doing was heinous and if they had only been attaining the brains and disposing of the bodies properly, he wouldn’t have had a problem with them. He continued to believe that leaving the body parts to be found by the public could lead a trail back to Trellis. He thought the men got a thrill out of publicly exposing the mutilated body parts and dancing too close to a fire they thought they could control.

  “Yes, Miss. Brand. I read another story that a mutilated body was found again, the head missing. I thought we discussed this with the subjects acquiring the specimens for Trellis? What do you say?”

  “We… We addressed the issue with them a few weeks ago and they agreed this was the wrong way to go about things. They agreed to stop.” She walked to the counter placing the tray on the sterile flat surface and took a step towards the doctor, still leaving a wide gap between them.

  “They agreed to stop? So they communicated this to you? That they thought they needed to stop? Clearly you were not effective in your dialogue when communicating our criticism with their attainment of our samples.” He contended with a slow even tone.

  “Have you considered sending a clone to do this work? To retrieve the brain samples? Or using the clones to attain your samples?” She said shakily.

  “My children?”

  A shiver ran down her skin at his bilious act of calling the clones his children.

  “Miss. Brand, my clones here on the island have been created with certain,” He paused as he adjusted the position of the microscope, then continued, “specific purposes. Only a handful of them have had a somewhat rounded education for prolonged stays in the field. To teach a clone how to perform brain sample retrievals in a foreign land without supervision would be catastrophic to the future of our program. Furthermore, suggesting my valued children for an ordinary brain matter donation is a miscarriage of the resourcefulness for what they were created. Which consists of surgical weaponing experiments and implementation for military government assignments, delegated accordingly.” He paused to pick up a new sample slide and placed it under the microscope.

  Dr. Salvaggi cleared his throat lightly and continued, “Conceivably, in the future we could begin a program for such an undertaking but that would require immense development. Which I highly doubt you are capable of succeeding in at this segment of your employment. You procured the two men performing this simple task for us even though they were removed from medical school forcefully by the school board for their unethical behavior. That alone is a reason we should not have considered them… You at the time reassured me otherwise, Miss Brand.”

  When the doctor had finished saying her name, she tried hard not to visibly wince. ‘Who was he to call others out on their unethical medical behavior,’ she thought. She hated the way he said her name, intimately as if he knew her inner thoughts.

  Slowly she breathed in trying to find her courage but she knew it had long ago left. Miss. Brand knew he was referring to the conversation she and Dr. Salvaggi had about the precise fact of the men being expelled, and that she guaranteed him that these two men had enough experience to perform the required tasks. Also, that these men, she had assured him, behaved like professionals. She wondered about her future on the island, and her safety.

  She breathed deeply and began her respectful retort, “I do remember that. I could speak with them again and start the process of vetting new people to attain brain samples for us.” She said trying to sound confident but falling flat.

  “Yes, why don’t you do that, if that is a failure as well, we will discuss the future of your assignment here on Trellis, Miss. Brand.”

  She nodded once at him without blinking and backed away until she was at the door, pressed a large round button, it beeped, and her escape hatch opened. Her legs were moving her away from the conversation but she wasn’t sure how since her body felt numb. She knew what the doctor was capable of; she had heard the stories about him being unhappy with job performances. These stories were ruthless and she didn’t want to believe they were true. Of course, she had only heard the stories once she was already on the island, when it was too late to turn around. The facts leading up to her procurement of this job were running through her head and she kept asking herself, “How did I get here? Why did I not see the signs? Will I ever be able to quit and leave?” She moved swiftly to her office to start an impossible duty of finding individuals to get that mad-scientist’s human heads samples.

  Chapter Seven~

  D parked down the street from agent Banks’ apartment building and watched his front stoop, waiting for him to appear. Munching on a ham and cheese croissant she picked up from the gas station this morning and slurping on a cold coffee. ‘Where is he? Is it possible I missed him?’ D glanced at the clock on her dash and noted it was almost eight AM.

  ‘He could be running late. Maybe he doesn’t have to be at work until nine?’ She asked the questions, mumbling aloud.

  Admiring her hair in the rearview mirror, today she had it slicked back in a ponytail. She was loving her new long hair, but hadn’t taken into consideration that it now would take longer to style. So her go-to quick style was a pony-tale, pulled up tight. D was wearing one of the new outfits she got at Frankie’s but she missed her jeans. A far cry from how she used to dress at Trellis, also a far cry from what she looked like when agent Banks interrogated her.

  The radio played in the background and she heard about the serial killer striking again. Whoever the suspect was, they had struck twice in the past week leaving decapitated bodies in creek beds or well-worn hiking sites. The bodies, besides being headless, were missing vital organs.

  ‘A shame, why in the world…’ she thought.

  The radio announcer mentioned something about Fort Knox when suddenly the story was interrupted when the apartment door finally swung open. Banks scuffled out with his dog behind him on a leash and they crossed the street to the dog park. He was dressed in his black CCD uniform; D assumed it wouldn’t be long before he left for work. Agent Banks allowed his dog to do doggy business and they walked back to the apartment building, into the lobby, and out of sight.

  ‘Great’, D thought. She hoped he kept that beast in a locked kennel all day. It would certainly make what she was about to do easier. Looking over the bag of dog treats she bought this morning hoping the dog didn’t have some sort of an allergic reaction to them and die. D shoved them in her small leather shoulder bag and could barely get the tiny leather bag closed.

  There on the apartment stoop, Banks emerges again, dog-less. She watched him cross the street and walk to an adjacent parking garage. A few cars drove out of the garage and D is shocked at what she saw. Colin Banks rumbled out on to the street riding a grey motorcycle, wearing a black helmet. If not for Colin wearing the CCD uniform she would have never guessed it was him. This was not your boring average bike, if there was such a thing. This bike looked like it would make cops want to follow because it had a bad attitude, the type of attitude that found trouble at high speeds.

  “This was not what I expected Banks. I had you pegged for… for… more… boring.” D murmured, bemused. She sat there with her lips pursed together trying to rationally shape a personality to her male pain in the rear.

  D cautiously got out of the little sports car and made her way to his apartment building slowing her pace as D got closer looking the building over. She made her way to the side entrance entering the leasing office. She could pretend she was here for an apartment, but why? D looked at the young pretty girl behind the counter and quickly realized she was one of the people on the website D saw last night. She’ll do.

  “Colin Banks?” D asked, and then waited for a thought to pop in her pretty little head D could grab onto, this took milliseconds.

  D blocked the minds of the other people sitting in their offices, made the
leasing agent stand up, and grab her master set of keys.

  “Show me Colin Banks apartment.”

  The pretty little leasing agent led the way. D followed her through an open glass door out into a lobby D presumed was the entrance Banks walked out of earlier. They continued down a maze of doors and up the elevator, passing only a few people as they headed to Banks’ apartment.

  Walking along, D questioned her. She wished she could just fish around in someone’s mind and find the answers she was looking for, but it didn’t work that way. They have to actually be thinking about the subject. Therefore, D asked questions to push thoughts around.

  Trellis actually started calling it ‘pushing,’ appallingly low-tech terminology, the evil-scientific communities brightest at work.

  D could not erase someone’s memory. The memory was still there, buried deeply in brain matter. They discovered, if and when it did come back to the forefront of someone’s thoughts they viewed it as a past dream they once had. A foggy dream, that never really happened or even déjà vu. Either way, the memory victim won’t trust the memory they are having and they too, push it aside. What baffled the team that worked with her, how she could physically control someone’s movements, not just controlling their thoughts. Undoubtedly, at the time this was an unintended bonus after the final surgery.

  “Were you the one that moved in Colin Banks?”

  “Yes. Nice, quiet guy.” She answered.

  “How long has he lived here?” D probed further.

  “Maybe, close to three years or so.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He’s single, good looking, new dog owner, good job, loner,” she answered, again. The young woman certainly had a crush on him. It’s in her every thought about the man. Why not, he was an extremely attractive guy. If you were the type of girl that didn’t need to know his every thought!

  “About the dog, does it like you?” D asked hoping her answer was yes.

  “Yes, Spudsy likes everyone.” She answered cheerfully.

  “Spudsy?” D grimaced. She thought to herself pessimistically, “No dog likes me.”

  They reached his door, as the leasing agent unlocked the top lock, D could hear the dog’s paws click on a hardwood surface getting closer to the them. This could only mean Spudsy wasn’t in a locked kennel. She retrieved the treat bag from her purse and ripped it open in a panic waiting to be attacked as soon as the door was opened.

  The leasing agent slowly opened the door to a panting playful dog then knelt down to pet Spudsy. D took a soft step inside the doorway the playful dog began to howl at her. Just what D had expected to happen, happened. The leasing agent grabbed Spudsy by the collar, pulling him back away from D and D immediately directed her to take him to the bathroom and shut the door. D was now thoroughly convinced her brain must send out an annoying dog whistle sound. A memory flashed through her mind concerning a time she followed a mark in to the Northern Cape Zoo, one of the largest zoos in the world. It was a chaotic event and the reason they had to strengthen the walls on the lion’s holding area. She barely escaped alive, tourists almost died, and three lions were tranquilized. D pushed that thought out of her mind and focused on the mission at hand.

  D began moving around the apartment quickly realizing it wasn’t decorated warmly. Very few items placed around, no pictures, nothing that would tie him to anything but then again, that’s most men. A large black leather couch and matching recliner sat in the living room, with a unusually wide TV that hung on the wall. ‘Sports fanatic,’ She mused.

  In the kitchen, and to D’s surprise, he looked like quite the cook, or at least enjoyed cooking, hobby perhaps? In addition, a neat cook at that, everything in its place and clean. She opened the fridge and saw two stakes marinating in a bowl, no doubt supper, perhaps one for the dog?

  In the spare bedroom/office area D immediately noticed a desk with a computer and in the corner was a black drum set, and a red and grey snowboard, “Found your hobbies, Banks. I bet your neighbors love those drums,” D said aloud. Looking at the music Banks had on the stand she read, “Third Day, I don’t know that group…” D flipped through the pages and laid it back down placing the pages exactly how she found the book.

  D slid the closet door open to reveal a black and grey snowsuit and a backpack hanging from heavy-duty hangers. A helmet of some-sort sat on the shelf above with a pair of snow boots on the floor. At the other end of the closet were miscellaneous dress coats, outdated suits, and Army gear with an assortment of patches and medals, no doubt from his years spent in service. All neatly hung and spaced apart equally. She took her phone out and snapped a few pictures of the different patches and pins on his military regalia.

  At his desk, she thumbed through a few bills spread around near a calculator, nothing of importance. Then she read a bill for a gym membership at Geared Up Gym, which was only a few blocks over. D kneeled down focusing on the computer looking it over before she touched it. D took out her handy little remote high jacking device, placed the end of it in her mouth, reached out for the tower of the computer with both hands, and struggled to pull it out of the docking station. Located a port, plugged in the little remote spying device she was holding between her lips, and pushed the computer tower back in its place. Giving it a once over to make sure she didn’t disturb any dust while she moved it around.

  ‘No dust? Are you kidding me? This guy had to have a housekeeper or he himself was a cleaning machine.’ Turning the computer on and making sure all systems were a go and then turned the computer back off.

  On D’s way out of the spare bedroom, she noticed a framed picture on the wall; the only one she had noticed so far anywhere in the apartment. A picture of six men dressed in combat type clothing with a light colored digital fatigue pattern. D immediately realized wherever this picture was taken, it had to be in the desert somewhere. All the men were holding what look like strange intimidating weapons, which only conceivably meant — a highly trained Special Forces unit? D took her phone out of her pocket and snapped a few pictures.

  Moving to the only bedroom containing a bed that had been made-up nice and neat. Every corner of his dark blue bedspread was nicely tucked under, no wrinkle to be seen. ‘Anal,’ she thought thinking about her own bedraggled comforter. On the nightstand, the Bible— a much worn bible. He had his bookmark placed in a book of the bible called Romans.

  ‘Interesting, Banks. I am not sure what this means but you certainly keep surprising me. Why are you such a puzzle, Colin Banks?” She said as she thumbed through the pages.

  She had decided that she had overstayed her welcome. Navigating to the front entrance of the apartment D stood safely in the hallway, then having the little blonde leasing agent release the dog out of the bathroom. Locking up Banks’ apartment, they headed back through the maze of doorways, down the elevator, out to the lobby, and in to the leasing agent’s office. D pushed this memory from her helper’s mind and left as if she was never there.

  Stepping outside of the doorway on to the sidewalk, she saw Colin Banks pacing quickly towards the stairs to the lobby entrance. D’s heart jumped.

  ‘We just missed him! Why was he home? Did we set off an alarm? I’ didn’t see an alarm!’ D’s mind was blaring.

  Her heart thumped as she tried calmly to stride past Agent Banks to the car. He stopped on the steps and looked down at her slowly. Then what she feared, happened.

  “Miss, stop! You with the long pony-tale,” He commanded in a southern drawl. “Miss, stop, please. You dropped something.” She didn’t hear this much southern inflection in his voice when he was interrogating her. Does he have to focus on hiding it when talking to suspects?

  D immediately realized her shoulder bag felt lighter. She dropped her doggy treats from her shoulder bag. Stupid small bag!

  D turned to him, waved a thank you with a quick smile, bent down, grabbed her stupid bag of treats and by the time D stood up he was standing in front of her.

  Wit
h his deep voice he proceeded, “I can’t give my dog those kinds of treats, they give him the runs.”

  ‘Eloquent’, D thought to herself, trying not to make eye contact. Good thing she never got the chance to give Spudsy those treats. Her heart was thrashing so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

  “I think there was a story a few months ago where there was a big problem with that brand,” he explained further, slowing his southern accent down and now speaking in the same deep voice he questioned her with a few days before.

  She smiled, wide-eyed and shaken, “Thank you. I will toss them the first chance I get,” D said as she strolled away swiftly. ‘The first words I spoke to Agent Colin Banks, there forever in my mind. The. Best. I. Could. DO. Pathetic... I’m such a fraud. Although, he did tell me about his dog’s runs so he wins on the pathetic,’ she thought.

  He shook his head at her hurriedness and walked into the building— at which point she sprinted to her car! Driving away in a burst, hoping he didn’t recognize her, and she was thankful Frankie and the salon workers were good at their jobs!

  The breakfast croissant D had earlier was now slowly working its way up. D had everyone under control, every situation, until a few days ago when that man walked in to her life. What was it about Banks that made him so special? The adrenaline rush was making her nauseous. None of her questions about CCD Agent Colin Banks was answered, yet.

  D zipped back to the bookstore, Zan was standing at the counter as D walked in, unpacking a box of books. Approaching, Zan and Mr. Zhao, D asked them if they had a section with Bibles.