Overmatched - Pt. 02

"Mr. Weston," she began, "My name is Melissa Maxim. I'm here..."

"Adopted?" I interrupted her, raising an eyebrow.

The woman was taken aback. I guess she must have thought I was still half-fuzzy.

"Excuse me," she replied, trying to maintain her decorum. "Adopted?"

"Yes," I stated. "There's no way a woman with your color of hair, eyes, or tan skin could have a name like that unless your name had been changed. Last name, maybe. First name, unlikely."

Her glare slowly turned to a smile. "Well, Mr. Weston, Andrew, it seems you are back to yourself and sharp as a tack I must say."

I shrugged. She studied my face for a moment, looking for something.

"Let's start again, shall we?" she seemed more amused. "My name is Felicia de Armonde. I'm your handler." She paused then, still regarding me.

"That sounds important," I tried to remain nonchalant. "Some secret position at Worldview?"

"I don't work for Worldview," she said. "Your wife, Katie, is alive and, for the moment, well. Fortunately, your accident and subsequent felonies were well documented. We were able to secure the contents of your vehicle so as far as the individuals at Worldview are concerned, you were just out for a leisurely drive."

"Who the fuck are you?" My anger swelled and I could feel the veins in my neck pumping blood. The room started spinning.

"Take it easy, Andrew," she ordered. "I'm here to help. You were brought here by an ambulance we commandeered after the altercation at the jail. We worked with the staff to ensure anonymity while you were recovering, both for your protection and for your wife's."

"You didn't answer my question," I growled. I needed to calm down or my blood pressure was going to kill me. The beeping of the heart monitor increased in tempo. "I don't know you and I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone."

A nurse, I hadn't even noticed entering the room, was adjusting the feed on my I.V. and that was the end of that.

The next time I awakened there was sunlight coming through the window. Felicity, or whoever she said she was, sat in a chair across from my bed, napping. I decided I didn't want her there.

There was a device in my right hand that I assumed was there to alert the nurse I needed something. When she arrived the woman in the chair woke up.

"Who is this person and why is she in my room?" I asked the nurse without looking at the woman. "I don't know her."

"It's alright, Mr. Weston," she spoke soothingly. "She brought you here - saved your life - in a way. The Doctor will be in momentarily."

The nurse wasn't going to help me. I couldn't help myself either, so I turned to the woman who remained seated.

"May I explain now?" she calmly asked. I nodded.

"As I told you last night," she started, "my name is Felicia. I have nothing to do with Worldview, in fact, quite the opposite."

"What, FBI?" I probed, "CIA?" Felicia gave a manly chuckle.

"No," she replied. "Not those guys either. You could say that we're the anti-Worldview. We bring... balance. That's the best I can do for now. We need you well and recovered. We need your help."

"My help?" it was my turn to laugh. "If you're who you elusively claim to be, you wouldn't need me."

"Ahh, but you're wrong," she exclaimed. "You have a certain skill. You've already used it against Worldview, twice, if I'm not mistaken. I think you underestimate yourself."

She knew a lot about me. I decided to keep her talking. "Where's my wife? Does she know about my condition; my accident?"

"Some of it," she told me. "She knows you were arrested for hit and run. That's about it at least as far as we know."

"I thought you were some secret organization," I mocked her on purpose. "How could you not know?"

"Andrew," she came and stood by me. "Your wife is still in grave danger as far as we can tell. The official police report and the newspaper say you escaped during a riot at the county jail and are still at large and extremely dangerous. As you've probably figured out by now, they control the narrative. But..." she paused, "they still don't know the purpose of your drive, unless your wife has told them, but as of our last report, it doesn't seem she has."

"You have some way to get that type of credible intel?" I needed to know that important fact.

"We do. We have people within and you're not the only person who knows how to get into their network." Felicia looked at me harder, studying my face and searching for something. "Of course, every day that you're missing changes things. What we can't determine is if the men who tried to kill you in that cell were a random act or paid by someone at Worldview."

"I couldn't say," I responded. "If that's what you're looking for, there was another man there... I'm pretty sure he saved my life."

"He did," She said matter-of-factly as her hard stare went away. "He's one of ours."

My nose itched then. Since my right arm was filled with all sorts of tubes, I went to use my left, only to find it handcuffed to the rail.

"A precaution," Felicia said. "We won't be needing that any longer." She freed me with a smile.

"I'm going to leave you for now," she stated. "Give you some time to think. Know this, Mr. Weston. This isn't some game. We need your commitment. I'll say again, your wife is in danger, and from what I've seen in your file, I'd bet that you still love her. We need to get you up and moving very soon."

I thought about it the entire time she was away. In terms of my decision, that took all of about five minutes. There'd be no trust forthcoming. I had a score to settle though and if I could get some help in that regard, I'd conspire with them.

Three days later, sore as I was, I was driven to a facility in Montana. Where in Montana, would be anyone's guess because my head was covered in a black linen bag for the last hour of the journey. My quarters were spacious and all my belongings from my car were there, including my music and the new laptop I'd purchased the day I'd walked out on Katie.

After a meal and being given an agenda for the next several days, I was introduced to a Japanese woman who was to be my physical therapist and overall mental health 'coach,' whatever that meant.

Felicia took me into what she called 'the hub,' a large central room that looked like a low-budget version of the Johnson Space Center - surveillance equipment and tech beyond my wildest desires. I wanted to ask her yet again, who the fuck they were, but I was starting to get an idea.

"Slightly more advanced than your money laundering activities?" Felicia asked with a cute little sideways smirk. So, they knew that I'd been playing with the company funds.

"I think it's about time you start explaining what this is about," I responded.

"Labels can be... confining," she said. "If there was a simple, one-word label for people like Mortimer Biggs, it would be 'globalist' but that's even a stretch, let alone accurate. We call them two-percenters. While you're moving pocket change to offshore accounts, Biggs and those in his circle launder money on a little different level."

"They're stealing money?" I asked. "From whom, exactly?"

"Everyone," Felicity motioned for me to take a seat. "They take over mining operations for precious metals from a government in central Africa. They help a moderate to get elected in Brazil in order to expand cattle ranching there. They get a conservative elected in Argentina so they can improve commerce with that beef, and they get a progressive elected here in the U.S. so their elitist friends can buy up farmland and ranches at record rates to make billions selling and marketing plant-based foods."

"That sounds like full vertical integration to me," I challenged. "Or smart business, if you prefer. Let's get to the part where they manipulate everyone's lives by stealing their money."

"If you believe that," she challenged right back, "we have much more to discuss than I thought." She sat down next to me and collected her thoughts. "They've manipulated yours and Katie's, right?

"Andrew, Worldview is one of several global corporations along with wealthy financiers we fight against. They control ninety-five percent of the real wealth on our planet."

"Okay," I'd previously read that crap and had enough for today. "So, I've been kidnapped by a bunch of conspiracy theorists. Great."

"And exactly what have you found in your great search of Worldview's files?" She leaned across me and picked up a file that she then handed to me. "Here's some reading for you tonight."

I took the file and started to open it but she gently put her hand on mine. "Everyone," she said more subdued, "you, me, all of us, we're simply a means to launder their money over and over again. We get a job and earn a paycheck, we launder their money. Our checks get automatically deposited in our bank account, we're laundering their money. The same thing when we go out and spend it. Every bit of interest we pay, every late fee, inflation - it's all so they can get a tiny bit more of the world's wealth. The vast majority of it has always belonged to them, at least since the end of World War II."

"Look," I wanted to poke holes in her... silliness. "I know first-hand what kind of assholes Biggs and Powers are. I've seen how they use their money and power to manipulate people and get what they want. What you're talking about is something so preposterous that I can't... I don't know, it's far too much to accept. Where are the good guys in all this and don't try to tell me it's you?"

"I won't," she was determined then. "We aren't any better, only a countermeasure. Biggs and Worldview just completed a merger with McMillin. That makes them the most powerful company on Earth, aside from Google. They operate in almost every country; they control the political landscape."

"Then, there's you," she continued. "Jack Powers takes your wife for a little two-year spin. He even plans on giving her back, not an attribute that he's all that used to. That's your concern. She even used what little influence she had with him to get his permission to have his child aborted."

I didn't agree with her but I was still without words and very tired of the pitiful looks.

"Tonight and for the next few days," she directed. "You're going to be learning about the real agenda of people like Biggs. Powers isn't any of our concern. As important as he is to Worldview, he's but a bit player. Tonight, your homework has to do with your mortgage."

"My mortgage?" I was dumbfounded.

"Yes. You're supposed to be buying your home from the bank, yes?" she sat confidently. I didn't answer except with a nod. "In that file is a copy of the Louisiana Purchase, the Homesteader Act, and the Repeal of the Homesteader Act. Tomorrow, you can tell me who really owns your home and everyone else's. That will be a start."

It was one heck of a start. I understood a great deal more about two percenters, starting with a discussion about land ownership the next morning and culminating in myths about food and climate by the week's end. I was starting to get a picture of elitist's power and influence.

The following week, I was put on a team. There were several other groups all working independently and focused on other two percenters, other finance moguls, and multi-billion dollar corporations. My group was a trio consisting of Richard and Brent.

Richard was far better than me at analyzing algorithms. If you could imagine a guy waiting at a trolley stop for a speeding streetcar reaching his hand out at just the right moment and then being pulled aboard, that was him.

Brent was a better hacker than me. He had a habit of cracking his knuckles right before he began making that keyboard sing.

I knew the file structure and the security redundancies that we'd built into the systems. I also knew where some of the bodies were buried by now. I'd been a bit busier than just stealing interest.

We made a great team and in three weeks, give or take, we had plenty. Plenty was a relative term. Not as in crimes, although what we'd discovered certainly were considered crimes. There wasn't anyone to report them to; no law enforcement agency that would take them to task. The idea that we could discover such nefarious and outlandish activities and still have no one to back us up was frightening beyond anything I'd ever experienced.

I also worried about the end game with these people. I had no idea what they'd do with the intel we'd gathered on Worldview - hell, I didn't know who 'they' were. That made me feel very vulnerable and expendable.

A week later I was checking my offshore account. I'd gotten close to half a million and was getting excited to pass that benchmark. To say I was shocked to find that the amount had been depleted to $151,000 would be an understatement. My astonishment quickly turned to panic.

I logged into my European email account to see if there was any explanation from the bank in Belize and masked as such was a personal message from Worldview. The name of the sender was hidden.

Mr. Weston, it appears you've committed embezzlement and due to the nature of how the funds were secured, you've opened yourself to several Federal Wire Fraud charges. As to where the funds were transferred, at least two charges of money laundering. Those charges carry concurrent twenty-year sentences if convicted. So you don't have to use a calculator, that's about one hundred fifty years of prison time.

Only because your wife has been invaluable to our corporation, are we willing to consider trying to arrange an agreement between our attorneys, the district attorney, and federal prosecutors on your behalf to perhaps lessen the damage to her family. Since we were able to recover a large portion of the funds, favorable outcomes may be open to you.

Call this number to arrange a meeting to turn yourself in as soon as you read this email. Failure to comply will negate this one-time offer.

It was signed by Mortimer and the CFO, Botswani, with an eight-hundred number below. My hands shook as I printed the email text and went to find Felicia.

"Well," she said condescendingly, "looks like your little nickel and dime operation poked the bear."

"They know where we are," I was still frantic. We've got to get out..."

"Andrew," she laughed out loud, "if they knew that we wouldn't be having this conversation. Calm down. We are perfectly safe for the moment. We need to discuss strategy."

"Strategy?" I said innocuously, "What strategy? I'm fucked."

"Not exactly," she said sitting down and motioning me to join her. She called across the room to a beautiful, sharply dressed assistant to bring us some water.

"I'll say again, Andrew," she commanded, "calm down. This is exactly what we wanted." I looked at her like she was crazy.

"It's why we allowed you to continue," she stated as if obvious. "We have what we need now and other than a few loose ends, we can put an end to the merger between Worldview and McMillin. You're going to help us with that."

"You set me up, you bitch," I snarled at her. "I'm packing what I need and I'm out of here in less than an hour. I'm not your scapegoat."

As I stood so did Felicia. She slapped me so hard in the face that it knocked me to one knee. My ear was ringing. I looked up at her in a defensive posture, preparing for me to stand. Instead, I stayed there. The hustle and bustle of the room had quieted to utter silence. I nervously laughed to break the tension.

When I looked back at her, she had one eyebrow raised, partly as if to say 'you want to go?' Or perhaps the look told me that she felt my wife, Katie, should have done that to me long ago.

"You don't care if they kill me, do you?" I questioned. "As long as you score some points in your secret war. Just another pawn, huh?"

"Hardly," she snickered like a man. "You've been at this for over a month with us. Why do I still need to explain to you?" She reached her arm out to help me up and I took it. After a moment of assessing my surroundings, I sat down at the small table and the good-looking woman set the water in front of me.

"Andrew," she said quickly, ready to speed-school me. "You've seen enough to understand. People die every day - sometimes hundreds per day - at the hands of these bastards. Africa, South America, Indonesia. Europe and here, too, people who get too close or stumble upon things. It's nothing new.

"People remember President Kennedy, of course," she continued. "They seem to forget about his brother and other people in his administration that had access to information, not to mention, the Kennedy women or anyone who may have had sloppy pillow talk. Fortunately for Jackie one of those powerful men fell in love with her and she married him to keep her remaining family safe."

I didn't want to hear her conspiracy theories if that's what they were. All the urban legends were out there on the internet. The number of people Richard Nixon and Hilary Clinton had offed when their secrets were discovered. Maybe she was going to spout on about the Illuminati. Her organization sure seemed to fit that bill to an extent. All I cared about was getting to Worldview. Hell, they'd probably killed people too, as Mortimer had alluded to. What I knew was what they did to me. Nothing else mattered to me.

I'd helped her group uncover enough evidence to prove these pricks were filthy rich and simply wanted to get even richer. Wasn't that the goal of every mega-corporation, to beat last year's numbers? The nefarious part was how they went about making their money. Slave labor in undeveloped countries, bought-and-paid-for politicians in numerous countries as well. Massive money transfers between competing corporations and collusion.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You're going to respond to the email," she began. "You're going to agree to meet wherever they tell you. We're going to embed a small listening device under your hairline on the back of your neck. You're going to memorize the questions we want you to ask. You'll have two tails with you from the moment you leave this compound. If Biggs and Powers follow their usual pattern, they'll want to be there, face-to-face, when they try to kill you. Both of them will have tails, too. We expect your wife will also be present. Where she stands remains to be seen. Fortunately, we have someone deep inside Worldview. We will have the location well-staked out with plenty of firepower. Don't be disillusioned. I can't and I won't promise you will walk away from this. The situation will be very unpredictable. I believe with our careful planning your chances are better than seventy percent. If you throw your wife's life in the mix, then that number goes down to about sixty. It's still better than running your whole life and eventually making a mistake wherein they find you. I'll give you the night to sleep on it but not longer. I'm sorry, Andrew, but there's far more at stake than two people's lives."

I was royally screwed and I knew it. Defeatedly, I rose, headed to my quarters, stopped, and turned towards Felicia.

"What did you mean," I began to ask, "about where Katie stood?"

"That's the million-dollar question," she sighed. "Even with our spy inside, it's hard to determine. She's either pulling a 'Jackie Onassis' for your benefit or she's starting to develop real feelings for Jack Powers. Our source reports she's openly 'chummy' with him and she refers to you as 'estranged' to her office colleagues regarding your relationship."

There was plenty for me to consider that night and sleep was the last thing on my mind. I dozed off and on, considering different angles of my plight. This 'organization' cared as much for my well-being as Worldview and people like them.

Still, I'd missed Katie somehow. I knew I still loved her and I hoped her love was reciprocal. Without the rose-colored glasses, though, I had no way to be sure. All I had was a better than fifty percent chance of survival. The only question that mattered was, did I want to step into the spider's web or try to make another run for it? By morning, I'd decided no more running because regardless of what happened, it would be my only opportunity to face those bastards.