Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 23 "Listen to My Voice"
"Will you need anything else, sir?" Private Florey kept one eye on the restrained pilot and the other on his superior, hoping he could be dismissed. Ever since the maniacal test subject tackled him in the hallway and wrested the M-16 from his grasp, the Private wanted as little to do with Murdock as possible. The man on the gurney seemed almost comatose now but Florey didn't want to take any chances.
Jackson eyed the young Private and gritted his teeth. "No, that will be all for now. Stand outside the doorway in case I need your assistance.
Florey let out the breath he was holding and quickly stepped from the room.
After the Private left him alone in Laboratory One with Murdock, Jackson continued to provide his test subject with gruesome images from his past to destabilize his mind. He had time to kill before the lab assistant would appear and he could begin the programming procedure.
Plenty of time to make you compliant and easy to work with.
With each memory the Colonel forced him to recall, Murdock shuddered. Even with his wrists restrained, his hands gripped whatever they could, the fingernails clawing the gurney mattress under him. His eyes rolled wildly at everything around him, seeing vividly what was not there.
What Murdock did not remember readily on his own, Jackson provided from his own memories of interrogations he had conducted. Currently the pilot was "seeing" Jackson use a machete and a wooden block to chop Sky's ring finger off one joint at a time.
For a moment the Colonel smiled in reflection.
That's another difference between you and me, Captain. I got used to the cries of suspects being interrogated, the blood that had to be spilled for our cause. You did not.
"Bạn không phải giết chết cô. Bạn không phải giết chết cô! (You don't have to kill her.)"
The man on the gurney craned his head toward his captor and snarled the words. He twisted his wrists against the leather restraints in a futile effort to free himself.
But I already did. The Vietnamese doctor showed you the body. Remember?
Involuntary tears appeared in the corners of the captive's eyes as he cried out her nickname. "Sky!"
But perhaps this memory is more to your liking.
Murdock gasped in pain with the new implanted image. Jackson "saw" the interrogator they called Ferret in the POW camp tightly cinch the Captain's elbows together behind his back. The pilot's shoulder blades almost met as his breaths hissed out in short panting huffs.
Knowing the pilot could experience every sensation of the memory through the projection of his thoughts, the Colonel smirked.
"Murdock, H. M., Captain, United States Army." Murdock's hoarse rasp ratcheted into a whimper at the end. His face tightened in agony even as his eyes slid closed.
Of course, none of it was really happening. Jackson and the pilot were alone together in a sterile white laboratory in the Granite Peak installation. Murdock saw nothing but the walls and dirt floor of a POW camp interrogation hut, felt nothing but his tortured past as Jackson projected the images into his mind, one by one, to keep him under control.
See any ghosts lately, Number 47? Your past truly can haunt you, can't it, Captain?
Jackson chuckled to himself, then grew serious. At some point when he was ready to begin the procedure, he would have to release Murdock from the horror show in his mind. When that happened, the test subject might become unpredictably dangerous. In fact, he could count on it.
You have every reason to hate me and want to see me dead, don't you, Murdock? Well, you won't get the opportunity to fulfill that desire. Not as long as I have control of your mind.
A knock at the door alerted the Colonel to the appearance of a lab assistant from another project sent to bring him the syringe and vial of haloperidol.
"Ah, Mister Nappler. Come in." Even as Jackson said the words and diverted his attention to the assistant, he unwillingly freed Murdock's mind from his assault.
"You bloodthirsty bastard!" Murdock shouted the three words at the military man. Nappler was caught by surprise and gazed with alarm from the test subject to the Colonel.
Jackson cursed inwardly. The last thing he needed was for an underling to wonder what the restrained man meant by his hostile words. He noted a glimmer of doubt in the assistant's eyes.
Moments later as Jackson swung his intense gaze back to him, the Captain groaned in pain.
Shut up! We don't want Mister Nappler to get the wrong ideas about this procedure, do we?
Jackson delved deeper into Murdock's memories and found one he knew would silence him.
Do you remember how it felt to listen to your best friend's screams as he was interrogated?
The lab assistant transferred his weight from one foot to the other, unsure why the military man was so slow in beginning the procedure. He didn't want to stay in this lab with the obviously insane test subject any longer than he had to. Working with biological weapons was less intimidating. Incurable diseases didn't yell threats at you.
Even as Jackson kept his mind engaged on quieting the pilot, he nodded for Nappler to administer the sedative. "Not too much. Just enough to calm him down," he muttered, forcing Murdock's frantic brown eyes to remain locked in on his.
The Colonel could sense the pilot's agitation, could "see" Murdock trying to stroke the furry head of an invisible dog as he drew himself into a tight ball on the wooden platform in the hut. The slow rocking back and forth as the Lieutenant's screams increased in number and volume. But at least he was silent except for small whining sounds coming from deep inside his chest.
Haloperidol and ketamine. Probably not a good combination used so closely together but then if he made a fatal error he could blame General Brandler's impatience and Doctor Stafford's unavailability.
The screams Murdock thought he heard in his mind faded as the drug took effect. His muscles relaxed and his brain felt as if it were cocooned in cotton wool.
"And so we begin, Mister Nappler. Place the headphones on Number 47 and dim the lights." As the assistant followed his instructions, Jackson positioned himself at the microphone in the sound booth and found the paper printout Stafford had taken of Murdock's brain wave patterns. He nodded approvingly when he discovered the electromagnetic signature pulse the doctor planned to incorporate in conjunction with the hypnotic suggestion.
When the pulse connected with the neuroelectromagnetic transmitter in Murdock's brain, it would produce a sound similar to ringing in his ears that no one else would hear. The sound served as a trigger that would signal the pilot to begin to perform the programmed set of instructions. The nice thing about it was that the set of instructions could not be ignored or disobeyed once planted as a hypnotic suggestion.
But first, the pattern of the pulse and the instructions had to be simultaneously implanted in the auditory cortex of the Captain's brain.
Nappler glanced toward the Colonel as soon as he finished dimming the lights.
"Wait outside the door until I call for you, Mister Nappler." Jackson smiled as the assistant hurried to obey and then directed his attention to the man on the gurney. Setting a dial to emit the signature pulse through the pilot's headphones, the Colonel spoke into the microphone.
"Captain Murdock. I want you to relax and listen to my voice. When you hear the ringing sound in your ears, you will follow these instructions . . . "
oooooo
"I hear voices, Colonel." Face shot Stafford an accusatory look. "One of them said something that sounded like Vietnamese."
"I heard the same thing, Lieutenant." Hannibal's steel blue eyes regarded the doctor. "You're sure you were going to do the next session in here?"
"Yes. You can see for yourselves the remote viewing chair and the monitoring equipment. Those were the plans even before the test subject attacked the guard and escaped." Stafford waved his hand toward the outer room.
They heard the voice from the other room yell. "Sky!" The Lieutenant flinched in recognition of the nickname. It was a name Murdock screamed aloud sometimes during his worst nightmares.
"I don't know about you, Colonel," Face snapped, "but I'm getting really tired of hearing Murdock being referred to as 'the test subject.' He's a human being, not a chimpanzee or guinea pig, you know. He didn't volunteer for this."
"He's serving his country." The doctor nervously squirmed in his seat.
"He already served his country and served it better than you could ever dream of, Doc. So don't give me all that bullshit about mom, apple pie and hooray for the red, white and blue." Face skewered the scientist with his angry blue eyes. "He served his country so well, he ended up making the VA psych ward his residence for the past eleven years or more. He shouldn't have had to sacrifice his sanity for Uncle Sam."
"He was the perfect candidate for this project," Stafford protested weakly.
More agitated words came from the same place as the Vietnamese words. "You bloodthirsty bastard!"
Face and Hannibal stared at each other for a brief moment. Hannibal was the first to speak. "That was Murdock. This is Laboratory Two, you said. They must have taken him to Laboratory One. What type of work is Laboratory One set up for?"
Stafford licked his lips and anxiously eyed the two M-16s pointed at him.
Rollag shifted in his chair, gripping the edges tightly.
Noting his unease, Face aimed the barrel of his gun toward the lab assistant. "Maybe you can tell us."
Rollag gulped and gave his superior an apologetic glance. "Laboratory One is fully equipped to do minor surgeries as well as having a room similar to this one for experiments involving sensory deprivation and hypnosis."
"Sensory deprivation? Hypnosis?" The Lieutenant stared at the doctor in disbelief.
"You said Jackson had too much control over Murdock already. Exactly what would he hope to do with him in that lab, Doc?" Hannibal tightened his grip on the weapon. It was a small movement but the doctor's eyes widened at the threat it implied.
Stafford gave Rollag a reproachful glare before answering.
"If he's doing what I think he's doing, your Captain Murdock belongs completely to this project now. He has no more loyalty to you until he can be released from the hypnotic suggestions being planted in his mind." The doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a smug smile. The confidence he was trying to display was much more than he felt.
Hannibal put his arm out to prevent Face from lunging at the scientist. "Stay back, Lieutenant. Nothing will be gained by tearing Mister Stafford here limb from limb." The grim blue eyes scanned the doctor's face before settling on Rollag. "Here's what you're going to do."
"Me?" squeaked the lab assistant, pointing a thumb at his own chest. He gulped.
"You're going to wait until this session is finished and Murdock is taken back to his room. Then you will find an excuse, any excuse, to bring him to this lab. We will be holding Doctor Stafford here at gunpoint until Murdock is delivered. You will not have any military types come with you. Is that clear?" Hannibal waited until Rollag hesitantly nodded.
Stafford leaned forward and sneered, "And after that?"
Hannibal gave him one of his coldest smiles. "We leave with you accompanying us. You reverse whatever has been done to our friend. When we get far enough away from the Dugway Proving Grounds, we'll release you unharmed."
Doctor Stafford frowned. "What if I can't undo what Jackson has done to the test s . . . " He glanced at Face and swallowed. "To Captain Murdock's mind? What then?"
The Colonel patted the medical man on the knee in mock friendliness. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, Doc."