Flash 03: Loose Ends

Flash 03: Loose Ends

The following was inspired by an email from a reader. To fully understand the context of what is happening here, I suggest you read the first two parts of this story.

This story contains elements of sci-fi and mind control. I have chosen to put it here after a number of comments suggesting I keep the whole story in one area of Literotica.

My apologies for taking so long to get this part of the story up. We're doing a major remodel on the house, and my writing time has been severely hampered.

Many thanks to QuantumMechanic1957 for giving this a beta read. His suggestions have made this a much better story, in my opinion. I would also like to thank those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

The end of Flash 02:

"It's from her last scan, taken this morning," he said. "It looks like a tumor, but I'd like to perform a biopsy to confirm it."

"Can it be removed?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Not where it's located, no," he said. "If it is a tumor, we'll have to find other treatments for it. There are non-invasive procedures like gamma knife that's been very effective in cases like this, though."

"Gamma knife?"

"Yes. It's a form of radiation therapy that concentrates highly focused beams of gamma radiation on the tumor. Quite effective, I might add. We're set up for that here so she won't need to be transported to a specialized treatment center."

"And you're just now finding this tumor?" I asked.

"It's quite small, so it probably hasn't been there very long," he said. "The sooner we can address it, though, the better."

"What are her chances?" I asked.

"With the gamma knife, very good," he said.

"Do what you have to do, doc," I said.

...

And now, Flash 03: Loose Ends

Dr. Samuels ordered the biopsy and confirmed that Ginger did, in fact, have a malignant tumor in a part of her brain that could not be removed by normal surgical means. After consulting with both mine and Ginger's insurance to make sure the gamma knife procedure would be covered, he scheduled it as soon as he could and had his office contact me with the date.

According to what I received, the procedure would take place in four weeks. I had hoped for something earlier, but apparently, that wasn't meant to be. I saw Dr. Samuels and asked for a few minutes of his time, which he graciously gave.

"I was just curious, Dr. Samuels," I said. "I know you said this tumor was relatively new, but how long do you think it's been there?"

"Impossible to say, really," he told me. "It could've been there for months. Personally, I don't think it's been there more than a year, which is why I called it 'relatively' new."

"It could be there that long before anyone spots it?" I asked.

"Oh sure," he said. "There are some cases where a tumor has grown in the brain for years before being spotted."

"Could that affect her behavior? I've noticed she's been acting different the last few months before the accident," I said. "Almost as if she's two different people."

"I didn't have a chance to examine her prior to her being brought in, but I suppose it's not completely outside the realm of possibility. Given where the tumor was located, it might very well have affected her behavior," he said. I thanked him and headed home.

The next time Smith and Jones came by, I hit them up with what Dr. Samuels said. They looked at each other for a few moments before turning back to me. Smith handed me what looked like a blue stone with a USB port.

"Copy her brain feed to this, Cameron," he said. "We will need to analyze it further. Unfortunately, your application isn't powerful enough to do the job." I copied her feed to the device and handed it back to him.

"Give us a couple weeks to analyze this fully," Jones said.

By now, my vacation had ended and I was back to work. But the events of the last three weeks had impacted me more than I originally thought, and I found myself thinking very seriously about what Jack Peabody and Jones had told me about using my abilities to help others.

The more I thought about it, the more it appealed to me. I certainly had plenty of money to pursue the idea -- just over $200 million. But there were practical matters to consider first. Ginger's medical costs, for example, would have to take priority. Fortunately, she has good insurance, and Jack had placed her on paid extended medical leave so she would be covered.

But there were still some loose ends I needed to take care of first. The first was Bergstrom and his cohorts, who were still in custody awaiting their trial in federal court. He was still a threat, even though he was behind bars. I had kept tabs on all of them -- now known by the media as "The Dirty Dozen" -- and knew that they had not plotted anything against Jack, Ginger or myself -- yet.

In addition to their federal charges, all of the married members of the board had been served with divorce papers, and their soon-to-be ex-spouses wanted them all taken to the cleaners. Jack had also filed civil suits against all of them, and he introduced me to his attorney, Andrea Hawkins. I could tell right off that she was someone I could trust. Perhaps Jack saw it as well.

Andrea was chomping at the bit to put them all in the poorhouse, and I thought she was going to have an orgasm when I told her I wanted them all to be rendered penniless by the time it was all said and done.

"Tell me what happened, Cameron," she said. She listened quietly, taking notes as I told her what they had done to Ginger. I thought I saw tears in her eyes when I finished. She wiped her face with a Kleenex, then asked me what I wanted.

"Everything," I said. "I want them to lose absolutely everything."

"And I agree they should. Getting them to agree to a large settlement is going to be a challenge, though," she said. "This could take years to get through the court system."

"Even though they've all confessed?" I asked.

"They confessed to the criminal charges," she said. "This is a civil case. Things are a bit different."

"I see," I said in response. I had heard of civil cases taking years to resolve while lawyers racked up huge fees filing motion after motion. I was determined not to let that happen in this case and I had an ace up my sleeve that I wasn't about to let Andrea know about. No, Harold Bergstrom and his cronies would do exactly what we wanted them to do. Andrea just didn't know it yet.

"There's always the possibility they'll settle, especially with the criminal charges they're facing and with the lawsuits Jack filed," she said. "I just want you to be prepared for the worst."

"I appreciate your candor," I said. "Here's to hoping they settle quickly," I added, raising my coffee cup. She smiled and picked hers up as well. Touching our cups, we each took a long sip of coffee. I went home and thought about what I could do to get them to settle on my terms.

Sure, I could visit them in jail and lay it out for them face-to-face, but I suspected Andrea wouldn't like that very much, and I thought it could negatively impact the case. I could appear in their dreams, but I doubted that would have the impact I wanted. I picked up the manual and went through it carefully.

Then I came across a section that had just translated itself. I read the section, my curiosity piqued. If this worked, it would accomplish exactly what I wanted to do. The manual warned this would take all of my concentration, and it wasn't kidding.

I connected to Bergstrom's mind as usual -- nothing difficult about that as I had already done it several times before. The rest, however, was a bit of a challenge. That's not exactly right -- it took all of my concentration to project my image into his cell. He looked up, surprised to see me.

"What the fuck?" he asked. "How did you get in here?"

"You'd never believe me if I told you," I said. "Don't bother calling for the guards. You're the only one who can see or hear me."

"This isn't real," he said. "You can't possibly be here." I focused my energy into my fist and punched his throat. He fell back on the bad, holding his throat as he gasped for air.

"That felt pretty real, didn't it?" I asked. "How does this feel?" I kicked him in the groin and watched as he doubled over in pain. "Is that real enough for you?"

"Okay, okay, you're real, please, no more," he begged after he got his breath. "What do you want with me?"

"I want everything," I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm about to drop a lawsuit against you for a ridiculously high sum of money for what you and the board did to my wife. And you're not going to contest it," I said. He laughed at that.

"You're shitting me, right?" he asked. "You expect me to just roll over and give you my money?"

"Well, only what your wife doesn't get in the divorce," I said. "I hear she's taking you to the cleaners. I intend to put you in the poorhouse. Besides, you'll be in jail for the rest of your life. You won't have any need of it."

"You're talking over $400 million," he said. "I'm not just going to hand all that over to you. You can kiss my ass."

"I thought you might say something like that," I said. "Maybe you'd like the spiders to come back." He looked at me, shocked. "Yes, I know how much you fear spiders. Who do you think they work for? Who do you think put them in your dreams? Believe me, Bergstrom, you haven't even begun to experience terror yet. By the time I'm finished with you, they'll be taking you to the mental ward in restraints."

"How... What..." he began. I waved him off.

"It's your choice, Bergstrom. You either cooperate, or you'll be up to your neck in spiders. Literally," I said. As I watched, his face went white and his eyes bugged open in fear. Then he collected himself and nodded his head.

"Alright, alright. I'll do as you say," he said.

"I thought you'd see things my way," I said. "Remember, cooperate and I'll keep the spiders away. And I was never here. Got it?"

"I got it," he said, shaking. I disconnected from his mind and caught my breath as I sat in my chair. The effort had drained me more than I thought it would. I grabbed a cup of coffee and relaxed for a bit, then performed the exercises Smith and Jones had given me. When I felt up to it, I connected to Jake's mind and repeated the performance.

He nearly shit his drawers when he saw me in his cell. I didn't have to convince him I was "real" the way I did with Bergstrom, which saved me considerable strength. His fear was rats, and I was easily able to convince him to accept my lawsuit. When I disconnected from his mind, I was physically exhausted and called it a night.

It took five more nights to connect with the rest of the board, all of whom were languishing in their cells. None of them put up the fight Bergstrom did, which didn't surprise me. Compared to Bergstrom, they were all weak -- physically and mentally. But the effort took a lot out of me, something both Smith and Jones commented on when they came for their weekly visit.

"Perhaps you need some new exercises," Smith said.

"Thanks. Just what I need," I said sarcastically. "By the way, have you finished analyzing Ginger's brain feed?"

"We have," Jones said, handing me a color printout and a small USB drive. "The full report is on that drive, already translated. The sheet shows a general timeline. We were able to determine the tumor came into being here," he said, pointing to a line on the chart. "It was shortly after that she began to change. You can see what happened to her emotionally here and here," he said, pointing to two sets of lines.

"So, the bottom line is that the tumor affected her behavior and her ability to reason," I said. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"An intelligent being could reasonably come to that conclusion, based on this analysis," Jones said. I nodded my head in acknowledgment. It made sense to me. Between the drugs, the threats and intimidation, and now, this -- Ginger didn't stand a chance. I thanked them for their time and went to bed that night feeling just a bit better about things.

Andrea contacted me to come see her a day before she was set to serve the lawsuits against Bergstrom and his gang. She had the papers in front of her when I got there and handed me a summary sheet showing how much she was going for in each lawsuit. I was shocked when I saw the total on the bottom line -- over $1.9 billion.

"Of course, my take is 33 percent -- one-third -- of that," she said. "Still, that leaves you with well over a billion dollars. Mind you, this is what we're asking for, not necessarily what we'll get."

"I understand," I said.

"Remember, this is just the opening salvo. It could take some time to get this resolved, depending on how hard they want to fight this. As I said before, it could take years," she said.

I connected with Bergstrom's mind the next evening and found him fuming over the papers that he received. Looking through his memories, I discovered that he had already contacted his lawyer, who promised to see him tomorrow. I made note of the time so I could eavesdrop on the conversation and planned my lunch break to coincide with the meeting. Just as a reminder, I planted a dream reminding him of the terrors to come if he wavered.

The next day, I parked my truck in a wooded park, opened my sack lunch and connected with Bergstrom. He was in a visiting room, chained to a table, his lawyer sitting across from him. The lawyer looked over the paperwork, then looked up at Bergstrom.

"How do you want to handle this?" he asked.

"I want you to... accept their demand," Bergstrom said, surprising his lawyer.

"You can't be serious, Harold," he said. "They're asking over $400 million. It'll ruin you After you pay him and Peabody off, you'll have nothing left."

"I'm going to jail anyway, I won't have any need for it. Besides, they have me dead to rights. I've already admitted to everything they've alleged in their lawsuit."

"Alright, Harold, talk to me. We've known each other for years. This isn't like you. Did Drake threaten you?" the lawyer asked. Bergstrom shook his head.

"No," he said.

"Something smells about this, Harold," the lawyer said. "Look, this is just their initial salvo and we have 30 days to respond. Let's not be rash about this. I'll get with this Andrea Hawkins and see if we can't get this demand down to something a bit more reasonable. We'll also see if we can dig up some dirt on this Drake character."

"I've already had him checked out," Bergstrom said. "Hammer says he's a fucking Boy Scout."

"Hmm," the lawyer said. "Well then, maybe we need to come up with something, if you know what I mean. Perhaps have a man-to-man chat with him."

"Just be careful," Bergstrom said.

"Why? He's just a computer geek. What's he going to do?"

"Something about him doesn't sit right with me," Bergstrom said. "Trust me -- be careful."

"Of course," the lawyer said. "By the way, are you ready for the trial this week?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"You sure you don't want to change your plea?"

"Positive," Bergstrom said.

"Alright, if that's the way you want it," the lawyer said. "I'm going to focus on the trial first. I guess the best we can do is mitigate the sentence you're liable to receive. Once that's over, I'll turn my attention to this," he added, holding the lawsuit. "Are you alright? You're not looking too well."

"I haven't got much sleep lately," Bergstrom said. "Hard to sleep in that tiny cell."

"Well, get some rest, Harold. I don't want you in court looking like shit," the lawyer said. Bergstrom nodded his head as the lawyer stood. "I'll see you later this week, before the trial."

"Got it," Bergstrom said. The lawyer pounded on the door and a guard let him out before unlocking Bergstrom from the table. That was my cue to disconnect from his mind.

I went about my business for the rest of the week -- I worked during the day, then stopped by to see Ginger and check on her progress before going home. I made my martial arts classes, and worked with Smith and Jones when they came by.

I followed the trial in the news, and watched as many of the highlights as I could on Court TV, which provided the most coverage of all the networks. All 12 of the defendants were tried at the same time, in order to save money, the Court TV anchor said, citing the U.S. Attorney handling the case.

What really got my goat was the fact that they had to go through an entire trial, even though all of the defendants had confessed and plead guilty to all of the charges. The U.S. Attorney, Steven Morrison, told me that a judge cannot unilaterally declare any or all of the defendants guilty in a criminal case, because they're entitled under the constitution to a full and complete trial.

So I watched as they went through the jury selection process, something that took almost an entire day. The next day was opening arguments. I thought Steven did an excellent job laying out his case against all 12 defendants. It took six full days to get testimony from all twelve defendants.

After both sides made their closing arguments and rested, the jury was given instructions by the judge and sent to a separate room where they would begin deliberations. Of course, the talking heads on all the news channels bloviated about the case, even though they really had no idea what actually happened. I nearly blew my television to smithereens more than once.

It didn't take the jury long to come to their conclusions. After about four hours of deliberations, they came back to the courtroom, having found all 12 of the defendants guilty of all charges. The judge polled them all to make sure they agreed with the verdicts. Satisfied, he turned to the court.

"Sentencing to be held in one week," he said. "Court adjourned." I connected with Bergstrom's mind just as his attorney saw him off.

"You going to be okay, Harold?" the lawyer asked. Bergstrom nodded his head.

"Yeah, Tom, I'll be fine. Thanks for all your help."

"I'm going to go see Andrea Hawkins about these lawsuits. Maybe we can get them to back off a bit," Tom said. "You take care of yourself. I'll be in touch." Later that day, I got a call from Andrea.

"I just had an interesting visit with Tom Dewey, Bergstrom's lawyer," she said. "He wants to settle for far less than we're asking. Of course I told him to stick it in his ear. He'll probably come see you next. Don't agree to anything. Tell him he needs to speak to me."

"Okay, got it," I said. Sure enough, he rang my doorbell about 8:00 that evening. I looked through the peep hole and saw him standing outside, so I opened the door and realized he wasn't alone. A large, muscular man with an equally large pistol in a shoulder harness stood behind him.

"You must be Tom Dewey," I said.

"Yes," he responded. "And this is Max, my chauffeur," he added, pointing to the gorilla behind him.

"You can come in, but your shadow needs to stay outside," I said. Tom looked at Max and nodded his head.

"Wait for me in the car," he said. "I'll be alright."

"Okay, boss, if you say so," he said, giving me a sideways look. I watched as he walked to the dark sedan parked in one of the guest spots. Tom turned back to me and offered his hand as he smiled. I accepted his hand and saw him flinch when he felt the slight jolt.