Secret Chambers
An unfinished short story based on true events. Worth finishing? You tell me. (Written 2015)
The fabric of society can only stretch so far until one by one, the individual fibers begin to snap causing a chain reaction resulting in eventual collapse.
The year of our Lord 1953
Dr. Sidney Gottlieb received a call from the newly established Central Intelligence Agency. He closed the door to his windowless office and picked up the phone.
"This is Dr. Gottlieb, may I help you?" he said.
"Dr. Gottlieb, this is director Dulles in Washington. Let me make this short and to the point. What I am about to share with you should be considered classified as top secret."
"I understand." Gottlieb swallowed his last sip of coffee.
"We are authorizing you to initiate and lead Project MKUltra."
"Yes sir. Exactly what is...?
"Please Dr Gottlieb, no questions at this time. A docia is already on its way to you. I am authorized to tell you that you will be leading a new behavioral engineering agency at a remote facility in Canada."
Gottlieb had a masters degree in speech therapy as well as a PhD in chemistry. Behavioral engineering was certainly under his umbrella of qualifications. But why Canada, he pondered. With an abrupt 'click' the call was terminated. Gottlieb was frustrated with the lack of information but nonetheless excited for the opportunity.
Severally minutes passed. A knock stirred him from his thoughts.
"Yes, come in. What is it?"
An enlisted officer opened the door. Gottlieb's docia had arrived. That was quick, he thought. Somebody must have a serious bug up their butt this time.
"Thank you, that will be all, officer."
Gottlieb cracked the seal and removed the contents within. They were for his eyes only. Pages of text and occasional photographs. Unusual photographs indeed.
His eyes scanned one document. Underneath the 'top secret' insignia he noticed several lines of text in boldface:
October 1952 - POW Sergeant William Grady held captive by North Korean military. Subjected to various techniques of mind control. Presently incarcerated at Eastern State Hospital in Williamsburg, Va.
There were other names with similar dates. What in God's name was this all about. Mind control? He continued reading:
The CIA is authorized to commit resources and presently undisclosed funding for Project MKUltra. All mission parameters are to be considered above top secret.
On and on. Page after page. The information was relentless and focused. He clasp his hands over his face and leaned over the desk. He attempted to enjoy the last few moments of relaxation he would experience for quite some time to come.
Gottlieb organized his thoughts, consolidated remaining affairs and packed his bags. He would arrive in Canada several hours later. Deep Creek Lake was their intended destination.
Their transport approached the discrete entrance along an old, abandoned trucking route now used solely for local drivers. It was an unpaved, dirt road crowded with tall cedars on either side, reducing the intensity of the afternoon sun. A foreboding wrought iron gate was recessed several hundred yards off the main road and securely locked tight. Gottlieb stopped his vehicle to swipe his card key for entry. The mechanics squeaked with discontent, awakening from their slumber. The gate rotated away from the vehicle, finally free from its prison of motionless. Proceeding through, the gate closed promptly behind them. The driveway weaved through an assortment of trees and bushes. The terrain was more or less flat but visually impenetrable due to the concentrated, evasive foliage.
After several hundred yards the foliage finally gave way to open pasture. The light of day engulfed their vehicle as they saw the main facility in the distance. A small guard house lay directly ahead of them. It proved to be visually uninviting but functionally necessary. They proceeded forward. The grounds were unkempt to say the least. What appeared to be a vast front yard was overgrown with tall weeds and small, visually unpleasant shrubbery. This was unusual. The wheels beneath the truck aroused the soil along the dirt road as clouds welled up in their wake. The suspension heaved with every bump and pockmark causing them to travel at a slower speed.
The vehicle rolled to a stop and its brake was set. They had arrived at their destination. They peered out the wind shield stunned with fascination of that which had the resemblance of a small castle. This facility was built in 1895, out of stone and mortar, strong enough to endure tornadic activity of Biblical proportions. Every stone had been cut with precision and mortared with exquisite quality. The leaded glass windows were tall and narrow, covered along their sides with vines that evaded any discernable growth pattern.
They exited their vehicle and quickly walked inside where they were promptly greeted by a rather stout middle aged man with round rimmed glasses.
"My name is Dr. Frank Olson, lead research scientist here at Deep Creek Lake."
"Dr Gottlieb from the CIA, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I understand that you would like the use of our facility for reasons...which are classified. We are more than happy to oblige you but please understand that..."
"Doctor Olson, I possess neither the desire nor time to make small talk. Your facility has certain highly valuable, shall I say, characteristics which our team requires full access to. I have been briefed on the capacity and layout of your facility but nonetheless would like an immediate tour of your facility in order to fully allocate your resources to properly address our needs." said Gottlieb.
"Of course, Doctor. But understand that I am currently treating several patients here who require a strict regimen of care and attention. As you are well aware I have ethical obligations to them which I will not compromise to the generic whims of the CIA." said Olson.
"I shall endeavor to keep that at the forefront of our next conversation. But first, how about that tour?.
"Fine. Please follow me".
They exited his office and proceeded down the corridor through a pair of double doors. An elevator awaited them as they rounded the corner. Upon entering, Gottlieb depressed a button which read "SUB-B4". Olson took note and remained quiet. The elevator descended briskly, leaving that tickley feeling in their bellies. The cab slowed and shuttered to a stop. The double doors briskly slid apart to reveal a sealed guard station in front of another long corridor. This one was lined from floor to ceiling with glass panels on either side about ten feet apart. The lighting was dim in the hallway and more pronounced within each glassed compartment. As they approached the first, Gottlieb peered inside only to see an empty room. It was about ten feet by ten feet square, containing a bed, small dresser and table. A door in the rear appeared to lead into a bathroom area. A curtain was compressed against the wall which provided privacy between neighboring rooms. There were many rooms on this floor but of course none had access to daylight since they were several stories below ground.
"This is our most secure area which also happens to be on the lowest level. In fact, it even has it's own life support envelope, if you will. In the event of contamination or contagion, this section can be sealed off from the others. As too can each individual room." Olson though it more accurate to call it a cell or prison but this he would keep to himself.
"How many rooms do you have and how many are presently occupied?"
"This floor has twenty four rooms, five of which are presently occupied."
"I need you to evacuate this floor as soon as possible and relinquish access to my team."
"That will take a little time. Presently these patients are..."
"We will have them moved to a different facility should the need arise. This project requires complete discretion and total separation from the current patient population of this institution. There is no compromise in this regard. You can expect twenty four warm bodies filling these rooms within the next thirty six hours."
With that, the tour was over. The other subterranean levels were of little concern to Gottlieb. SUB-B4 was more than adequate and completely discrete.
…..To be continued…..
Jim