“What if there is another guard on the ground?” Cassandra asked. “We need to know.”
“That’s a problem,” Armstrong said. “We can only do this once. If we’re found out, that’ll be the end of us; and for your friend.” Armstrong was staring at Ray and Cassandra. “I think the risk is too great. If we’re discovered putting the bug on the window, and assuming we can still get out, they’ll take off the bug, put extra security around the back; or worse, move Eugene—assuming he’s in there—somewhere else.”
“We have another problem too,” Wrenn said. “If we plant the bug without them seeing us, but they discover it later—”
“Which they will,” Ray said.
“Then they’ll redouble the security anyway,” answered Wrenn.
“You’re both right,” Armstrong admitted. “Furthermore, when they discover the dead guy in the tree, they’ll know something is up. I believe we’re going to have to force our way in; take out all the guards, and break in. Yet we still have to do it quickly or the whole goddamn brigade of ‘em will be down on us.”
“Wait a minute!” Jimmy the Fox said. “I just thought of something. Holy Christ, it just might work.”
The others just looked at him, waiting to hear the Fox’s big idea.
“When I put the tracker on Dennis’s truck the other night I noticed the cap he wears sitting in the passenger seat. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but when you guys talked about having to put a bug on the window because—”
“Just tell us your idea,” Armstrong said.
“Oh, sorry. What if we put a bug in his cap? He must go in there because he’s got all that info that Daniel found.”
“It would be a good idea, except that he only went there once,” Ray said. “We’ve been tracking him since you put the tracker on, and apparently he gets information relayed to him by phone to his office.” The men groaned.
“Furthermore, how soon would it be before the bug was discovered?” Foote repeated .
They discussed the original idea of forced entry. Armstrong said it was the only viable way in. The others nodded in agreement.
“Let’s get some sleep and develop a plan in the morning,” Chad said.
The next morning the only discussion that took place was that any operation was likely to produce casualties, and with so many unknowns Armstrong was ready to cancel everything.
The team was feeling down when Ray came rushing into the room, grinning. “I just heard from Daniel. He found all the details about Hell House: security configurations, a clinic, and confirmation that Eugene is in there. They set up the operations in the basement. That’s where they’re working on Eugene. They call it Operation Breakdown. The plans and maps are printing out now.”
“Well,” Armstrong said, “that certainly changes things. Let’s get some chow and tackle this bad boy. We’ll call it ‘Operation Rescue’.”
Eugene was in the terrible closet. Sleep would come in waves, and the ephedrine, still in his system, made sleep difficult. He reeked of urine and feces, and ached all over as he contemplated his dilemma. I’m in Fernando’s camp. They won’t break me. I won’t let them. Maybe I could fool them into thinking they had so they’d let me go. Could it work?
The door opened and Hurd dragged him out. The light was bright, and Eugene had to cover his eyes before coming out. Eugene was escorted by Hurd and the upstairs guard to the gurney.
They carried him onto it, and he helplessly watched the guards strap him down. Dr. Frankenstein (Eugene’s name for Sistrunk) came over to him, talking in that saccharine way; so eerie, yet cruel.
“You’ve done very well, Eugene; so well that we can now proceed to the next step in your cure.” He gave Eugene an injection that made him feel really queer. He was sort of woozy, but he didn’t feel like he’d lose consciousness.
Then Dr. Sistrunk disappeared and came from the back room a few minutes later with a helmet that had electrodes on it.
“What is this for?” Eugene asked; not sure if he expected an answer or a swat.
“It is to help you, young man.”
An assistant he hadn’t seen before placed the helmet securely on Eugene’s head, and then plugged it into a control panel. Then he flipped a switch, and some lights came on. Eugene felt a jolt of electricity in his head, and for a second, thought they were giving him some sort of shock therapy. He made a face and grunted, and then realized this electrical feeling was too mild to be shock therapy.
“Oh, you make such a fuss, Eugene. I’ll turn down the voltage a little if you are too uncomfortable.” Dr. Sistrunk did so, and Eugene felt a little better, but he could hear an irritating hum, and he felt a muffled feeling like he just swallowed a whole bottle of aspirin.
Then the lab assistant went into to the back room and came back with goggles in his hand. He put them on Eugene, fully covering his eyes. At first, he saw nothing; just blackness. Then, there was a kaleidoscope of color swirling around. The colors were constantly changing.
“Describe the colors you see to me,” Sistrunk said.
“I see a lot of blues, and browns, and reds, and greens.”
“Do the colors appear dark or light?”
“Slightly on the dark side, I think.” The doctor flipped another switch and adjusted a dial.
“Now, Eugene, I’m going to ask you a few questions that you should have no trouble answering. It is important that you give me a truthful answer, and not the answer you may think I want to hear. So long as you do this, Eugene, you will not be punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Good, good. Now here is the first question: Are you on a table?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Do the colors you are looking at appear brighter or darker than they were?”
“Brighter.”
“Good, excellent. You’re doing just fine now. Now, tell me your true feelings about Professor Herald Zinney.”
“He’s a terrific person.”
“What makes him so terrific, Eugene?”
“He teaches that one should always seek truth.”
“Is there something more?”
“He says seeking truth is noble, and finding it is dangerous.”
“How so?”
“Because truth is something you can only approach; get closer to, but is always just out of reach.”
“So, he doesn’t believe in any absolute truths?”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“You mean he doesn’t believe one plus one equals two?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean philosophical truths.”
“So he does believe in mathematical certainties.”
“Yes. At least, I believe so.”
“So, you’re uncertain?”
“I don’t know… I feel funny….”
“You are confused, are you not?”
“I… I’m not sure. I feel funny.”
“What are the colors doing now? Are they brighter or darker?”
“About the same.”
“Good, excellent. We’re making good progress today. Now, suppose I say that one can’t believe in certainty and uncertainty at the same time. Does this make sense to you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have no doubt it would make sense to any right-thinking man. Would you agree?”
“Yes, doctor.”