Here's Part Two! Enjoy! - CM
*
"Oh my God," Kevin said.
I scrambled down the ladder, heedless of my own safety. All I knew was I needed to get to Kevin's side as fast as possible! Crystal followed more sedately. Reaching the bottom of the ladder, I found myself in a pitch black space. The only light was the bright cone of illumination from Kevin's flashlight.
"Hang tight for a second, you two," Kevin said. "I think I found the light switch."
A moment later, the overhead lights came on. We found ourselves in a medium-sized room. This was all -- except for one wall -- clearly an original part of the house's basement. The support columns whose absence Kevin had noted were to my left. The false wall was firmly strapped to them. The concrete walls had been painted a stark white, the color throwing back the light from the overhead flourescents, creating an almost painfully bright environment.
Every wall except the false one was lined with cabinets and workspaces. In the center of the room was a small island that held nothing but a computer workstation. There was also a chair that reminded me of a dentist's chair, but there were restraints at the wrists, ankles, forehead, and chest. Kevin was standing near one of the cabinets, gazing intently at whatever it held. I crossed to his side to look with him.
Inside the cabinet was a small selection of handguns and ammunition. I was no expert, but I could tell Kevin was making a thorough mental inventory. In addition to the guns, there were several black cylindrical objects of various lengths and widths, whose purpose wasn't immediately apparent to me.
"Those are suppressors," Kevin said quietly.
"Huh?" I asked, startled.
Kevin point at the cylinder things.
"I saw you looking at them. They're sound suppressors, or silencers, to use the less accurate word."
He frowned, his face tight with concern.
"They are very well-made units, but can't have come from any publically known maker. There's no stamps or serial numbers on any of them. There's not even a manufacterer's stamp on them. Someone -- a very skilled someone, with access to sophisticated machine tools -- made these off the books."
"Grace, Kevin, come look at this," Crystal said, her voice flat and cold with anger.
Together, Kevin and I made our way to where she stood by another cabinet. Inside, I saw various glass vials. Unlike the suppressors, these vials were clearly marked, and my blood ran cold as I read the labels.
"Rohypnol, GhB, sodium pentathol, phenobarbatol, Atavan, ether, morphine sulphate...my God, Trent has a whole pharmacopia down here," I whispered.
"What's this stuff used for?" Kevin asked.
I shrugged.
"There's a variety of different drugs here, Kevin," I said. "Rohypnol, for example, is a very common 'date rape' drug. Atavan is a powerful anti-psychotic, but if administered in non-theraputic dosages, it can induce altered states of conciousness too. Morphine is a powerful pain killer, but I'm sure you know it can also be mind-altering if it's abused. Pentathol is a so-called 'truth serum.' Phenobarbatal is-"
"Kevin, if you hadn't already killed that rat bastard Trent, I'd cheerfully do it myself!" Crystal said, harshly, her eyes on fire. "There's no way he could have gotten this stuff legally, and it's for damned sure he didn't put it to legal use!"
"No doubts there, Crystal," Kevin said. "What do you think he was doing down here?"
"Have you ever heard of something called 'MK Ultra?'" Crystal asked.
"No," Kevin said.
"Yes," I said, and with mention of that hideous episode from our nation's past, certain things clicked into place. I turned to Kevin.
"MK Ultra was an experiment conducted by the CIA back in the sixties," I explained. "You can look up all the nitty gritty details on the net, if you want to. The short version is that it was an experiment in mind control using psychotropic drugs and hypnotic suggestion. The results were...controversial, to say the least."
I gestured at the cabinet.
"A lot of the necessary drugs are sitting right here. The government found that it really isn't all that hard to change a person's behavior, given the right combination of drugs and hypnosis. That's not all they discovered, but that's a story for another time."
Kevin looked at me in surprise.
"And you thought I was a candidate for a tin-foil hat?" he asked, with a half-smile.
"I learned about the history of the project as part of my course work," I explained. "I also learned hypnosis. The theraputic value of hypnosis is still a hotly debated topic in the mental health community, but I feel like it can be useful in some situations."
"So what was it that Trent was doing down here?" he asked again.
"I'm not completely sure, but I wouldn't be at all surprised to find that he used Lily as test subject, perfecting his technique. It would go a long way towards explaining her behavior. I've been wondering for a while now, about the hold he had over her. His control seemed much stronger than the normal submissive-dominant personality dynamic can explain."
I shook my head, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of what this place represented.
"I wouldn't be at all surprised to find that he was making good little slaves of his own," Crystal said, her voice hard and cold with rage. "Here in America it would be easier to take adults than children. Adults can be harder to break than children, though, so he'd need a way to control them. Getting them hooked on drugs would be a good start, but I'm living proof that that doesn't work forever."
"But wouldn't anyone he took down here just go and report it?" Kevin asked. Crystal, noticing his sickened tone, gave him a pitying look.
"Kevin," she said, gently, "With the right mix of drugs and post-hypnotic suggestion, they wouldn't remember there was anything to report."
"Is that really possible?" he asked me, his face stricken.
I sighed, softly.
"In literal terms, no," I began. "However, it is possible to plant the suggestion in a subject's mind that they not conciously recall certain memories. So effectively, you could make someone refuse to remember something. I know I'm parsing semantics here, but it's important to recognize the difference. Because the memory is blocked rather than truly erased, it might be possible to use the same combination of drugs and hypnotic suggestion to bring those memories back to the surface."
Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. He sagged against one of the support pillars, his color pale.
"This is so...so fucking SICK!" he said, vehemently. "How could anyone do shit like this?! There might not be any hot coals, pincers, or knives in this room, but it's still a torture dungeon! A fucking twenty-first century dungeon!"
"We need to call the police and report this," I said.
"Maybe, and maybe not," Kevin replied, to my surprise. To my further surprise, Crystal nodded her head in firm agreement.
"Whoa, back up a second, you two," I said. "The contents of this room represent crucial evidence of illegal activity, not to mention it's illegal for us to be in posession of these drugs! That doesn't even count those 'suppressor' things you were talking about, Kevin! And-"
"Hey, hang on, Gracie!" Kevin interrupted. He took me gently in his arms and kissed me. I quivered against him, feeling thoroughly creeped out.
"Remember that video Kelly took," he said. "That police detective -- William Kowalski -- was in with Trent right up to his pudgy little neck! I'm not a hundred percent sure how far I trust the police right now."
Crystal pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Would he able to participate in the investigation, since he was personally involved in the case?" she asked.
Kevin held me closer as he shook his head at Crystal.
"I doubt it," he said simply. "He survived the beating Trent gave him that night, but it was a close thing. He'll never be quite the same again. He was medically retired from the force right after he was discharged from the hospital. But that wasn't really my immediate concern."
He released me from the hug, but left one arm wrapped aound my waist. I leaned into him; both of us needed the comfort of the physical contact.
"If Trent was running -- or trying to create -- some kind of sick slave ring, he'd need more help than just a detective on the local PD," Kevin began. "Sure, 'Billy' would be a good start for him, but he'd need more than just him."
Crystal nodded her head thoughtfully.
"Yes," she said, slowly. "You're right about that. In fact, he would probably need at least passive cooperation well above the purely local level. Depending, of course, on just how extensive his operation is -- or was."
I looked up at her in alarm.
"Wait, do you think it could still be up and running?" I demanded.
Now it was my turn to receive Crystal's pitying look.
"It most certainly COULD be," she said, "but it isn't a sure thing. Hell, we don't even know for sure exactly what your uncle had going on. All we have is a theory based on what we can see in this room."
If I thought Kevin looked troubled before, he looked downright alarmed, now. Crystal noticed and held up her hand.
