| abstract
| - After the fall of Borovia's Communist regime, Dr. Alexander Johan Hamilton and Anne Markov are flying to Moscow. Due to the rest of the family's attachment to their material goods and wanting to bring everything with them, they missed the helicopter's take off. Each of the helicopter's passengers are lost in their own thoughts as they approach Russian air space... Dr. Alexander Johan Hamilton, Lex to what is left of his family, flew quietly, monitoring the radio. Anne, his Grandmother, was strapped into the seat behind him. She stared out the window, equally as quiet. The only sound was the steady 'THUMP THUMP THUMP' of the helicopter as it sped towards Russia. “Attention, Borovian Helicopter! This is Russian Air Control! You are entering our Airspace! Please identify yourself!” Lex glanced back towards his Grandmother before replying in perfect Russian, “This is Unidentified Borovian Helicopter. Borovia's Communist Government has collapsed. We are refugees seeking asylum. “Acknowledged! Unidentified Borovian Helicopter, proceed to the Moscow Heliport immediately! We have need of any information regarding the situation in Borovia! Do you require medical aid, and may we have the number of crew and passengers?" “Acknowledged, Russian Air Control. Moscow Heliport immediately, I am adjusting flight path now. We are in no need of medical aid. Crew is one. Passenger is one.” Confusion was evident in the Air Controller's voice as he came back, “Crew of one? Passenger of one? Yes, one man CAN crew a helicopter of your size. But one passenger?” “The situation deteriorated rather quickly, Russia. I would discuss it further, but we are on an open channel and this helicopter is not equipped to handle Russian Military frequencies. Please continue to monitor us on radar, as this helicopter is not armed. Repeat – this helicopter is not armed.” “Very good, Unidentified Borovian Helicopter, proceed to the Moscow Heliport! There will be an escort awaiting you! Russian Air Control out!" “Unidentified Borovian Helicopter out.” Lex took off his helmet and said, “That was Russian Air Control. We are to report to the Moscow Heliport and meet with an escort. They sounded desperate for information.” “No doubt they are.” Anne said quietly. “The family are all probably dead by now. How are you doing, Lex?” Lex stretched his tired muscles as much as he could, thankful the cockpit was roomy, before replying, “I will be fine, the worst is in Borovia.” Anne nodded and pulled her coat tighter around her. She went back to staring out the window. Lex sighed and continued on, thinking, "This was the longest flight I have ever flown." He looked down at the large military bag beside his seat. That and the helicopter were all he had left. And the Account Book, nestled in the inside pocket of his trench coat. Holding the stick with one hand, he pulled out the Book and flipped through it. He knew what it contained, and why it was so important to get it to Moscow. It contained every Swiss Bank Account his father, Professor Johan Hamilton, had embezzled. "I never thought I would be so grateful my Father was an immoral hypocrite," thought Lex wryly! He passed it back to Anne. “You better keep this. They know you. Me, I'll be disarmed and put into a holding cell while they question you. Then they'll get me and see if our stories match. Standard government procedure for the K.G.B.” “You are all I have left, Lex...” She took the Book and put it it her large purse. “I'll be fine, Grandmother. Grandfather Markov taught me how to take care of myself before...the cancer got him.” The old woman nodded sadly before saying, “Be careful, Lex. Also, keep your helmet on and all your skin covered. Don't let anyone know who you are unless I say otherwise. Politics in Russia, especially Moscow, can be...deadly. That's putting it mildly.” “Yes, Grandmother,” said Lex as he put the helmet back on and concentrated on flying the 'copter. “This is Russian Air Control, Unidentified Borovian Helicopter copy?” Lex squirmed in his seat, trying to get comfortable, before replying, “Unidentified Borovian Helicopter here.” “Land at helipad one! Talk to no one! Exit the helicopter only after throwing out ALL weapons with your hands behind your heads! Further instructions will be given at that time!” Lex was nervous. That voice had a lot of steel to it. Sharp steel. Grandfather Markov at his K.G.B finest. He glanced back at his Grandmother before finding the helipad and setting the helicopter down. He removed his weapon harness and double checked himself for weapons. When he was sure he didn't have so much as a stray paper clip on him, he nodded at Anne. She nodded back, never taking her eyes at the large party of black vehicles and well-armed, black-clad soldiers who quickly surrounded the civilian helicopter. Lex opened the door slowly as Anne shouldered her purse and put her hands behind her head. He threw out the weapon harness, after holding it up a second so they could identify that it was not a bomb, tossing it as close to the soldiers as he could. Under the cover of the other soldiers, the one soldier with no weapons drawn picked it up, and retreated back to safety. Anne brushed past him as he opened the door wider for her to walk out. She murmured to him, "Courage!" Throught the thicknes of the helmet, Lex did not hear her. He waited until the soldiers had her in custody before he calmly walked out, hands behind his head, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. The guns focused on his center mass. “Please, do not let somebody get an itchy trigger finger...,” Lex didn't know who he was begging, but he hoped somebody or something heard him. He got half way between the soldiers and the helicopter, watching the guns like a mouse watches a cat, when the soldier with no weapons drawn motioned him to stop. Lex did so. In Russian, the soldier said, “Get down on the ground slowly, face down, and spread your legs. Don't move after that.” Lex complied, moving as slow as water running up hill. The soldier's leader said something to Anne, who smiled and nodded. Lex cursed the stupid helmet and the way it dampened sound. The steel of the helipad was colder than space, but he laid still as two of the soldiers patted him down. They nodded to their leader. “Stand up slowly, put your arms straight out to the sides, and let my men remove your trench coat.” Lex nodded and obeyed. He suppressed a twitch as the coat came off, knowing his clothing would be no protection from the, doubtlessly, armor piercing rounds. He did not resist as, with a motion from their leader, the soldiers cuffed his hands and shackled his feet. They made no attempt to remove his helmet. He saw their leader motion to Anne and both get into a car. The soldiers shoved him into the back of another nondescript, black car. One got in on either side of him. They tapped on the thick glass that separated the front seat from the back seat and the driver accelerated the car gently. Lex couldn't see anything out of the heavily tinted windows. “People disappear in cars like these,” a hideously evil voice whispered from the dark recesses of his mind. Lex couldn't block it out. It was there. Like something you only see out of the corner of your eye. He told himself, "Focus, this is standard procedure." It was a procedure he knew well. He didn't like being on the receiving end of it. He knew not how long the car drove for. Time was hard to judge, as he couldn't check his watch with his hands cuffed behind his back. The car slid to a stop. One of the soldiers opened their car door and dragged him out. Lex was herded into a nondescript Russian home. He noticed there was another car parked in front of the one he had pulled up in. "I hope Grandmother is all right," Lex thought. He notice a third car pull up. The soldiers that exited that vehicle were carrying his army bag and his Grandmother's suitcase. Lex thought, "I hope they did not take anything." The soldiers led him into a parlor. After forcing him to sit, and removing the restraints, the soldier's leader walked in, smiling at him. Lex knew that look. The soldier sat opposite him. “You would be more comfortable without the helmet on, I think?” Lex didn't want to give away his identity by speaking, so he just shook his head. The soldier lit up an expensive looking cigarette, and offered Lex one out of the pack. Again Lex shook his head. The soldier shrugged and leaned back, obviously enjoying his cigarette. Through a doorway, his Grandmother entered, laughing. She was on the arm of a handsome, elderly Russian General. He saw Lex and smiled. The soldier ashed his cigarette in an ashtray and saluted his superior officer casually. The other soldiers left the room, closing all the doors behind them. The General turned on a white noise machine. He turned it up loud. Anne knocked on Lex's helmet. “It is safe, you can remove it now.” Lex removed the helmet, glad to have the hot, sweaty thing off of him! His Grandmother smiled at him. “This,” She said as she squeezed the arm of the man that she was holding, “Is General Kirstov. The other man is his son Serji. If things had worked out the way they were suppose to, Serji would have been your new Father.” Lex looked confused. “One way, or another, your real Father would not have made it to Russia...,” smirked Grandmother Markov as she pulled a pistol out of her purse. Lex nodded and studied the two men. If he was reading them right, they were not going to harm him or his Grandmother. He relaxed and began stretching. “You can stand up, if you'd like, and walk around. You probably need it after what you've been through,” said General Kirstov with an easy smile. Lex returned the smile and ran his fingers through the stubble on his head. He stood up and began to stretch in earnest. The younger man, Serji, offered him a thermos. Gratefully, he drank the warm coffee. Serji also pulled out Lex's weapon harness and handed it to him. Lex took the harness, but didn't put it on. The two Kirstovs nodded in approval. Lex sat, suddenly tired from the journey. Seeing his Grandmother at ease, he relaxed and leaned back. Everyone enjoyed the quiet for a moment. The General sighed and began, “Your Grandfather, General Markov, and I were allies. We grew up together, joined together, served together, and were promoted together. Such things either make men the best of friends or the worst of enemies. He saved my life once, and I never had the chance to repay him. Now you, and the still lovely Anne Markov, come in your darkest hour.” He nodded and continued, “Dark indeed. But this Account Book holds part of the key to the light. This Book lists where all the embezzled money went to. I was able to use this information to set your Grandmother, and yourself, up with nice, fat Swiss accounts of your own. I made sure myself and Serji were REAL well paid for this good deed. Thus, I pay back General Markov.” “However, I now find myself in a predicament. Serji is never going to make General unless he has help, somebody he can trust completely, through no fault of his own. It's how this system works. He needs somebody capable of watching his back and gathering Intelligence. Somebody who knows people better than they know themselves. Alexander, that person is you.” “Now here is what I can do for you. You are too well known as the infamous Borovian Head Warden. Others have watched your career with interest, some who would see everything your Grandfather worked so hard to build destroyed out of petty greed or jealousy. I can arrange for 'you' to have an 'accident'. A fatal 'accident'. Only the 'you' in question would be a look alike, chosen from the Russian prisons. Same blood type, height, and weight. Same hair and eye color. Same skin tone. Not that there would be much left of 'you' left after the 'accident'. I can arrange for what little forensic evidence would be left to 'disappear'. Forever.” “But how can I protect and help Serji if I can't go out in public? What if somebody recognizes me?” “Because 'you' are not going to leave this house alive. Somebody I have been training in secret will. He will be a helicopter pilot, an Intelligence agent, and know the human mind to perfection. His name is Interrogator.” “I...I don't know how to feel about drastic plastic surgery...” “You're not getting drastic plastic surgery. You're getting a new uniform, and a new helmet. Your Grandmother has been kind enough to provide us with your correct sizes.” The General rose and opened a large wooden steamer chest and pulled out some clothing and a helmet. “Here, try it on. She designed it herself.” Lex looked at his Grandmother, who nodded. He unwrapped the clothes and changed. Serji uncovered a full length mirror that had been in a corner of the room and dragged it out. Lex set down the helmet and examined himself critically. The uniform consisted of thick, navy blue pants with red stripes on the sides of the legs that tucked into a pair of knee-high black boots. The outer shirt was gray, with a large navy blue rectangle that covered the lower abdomen as well. The navy blue rectangle was zippered on and bullet proof. Underneath that was a black body suit designed to keep the wearer cool and dry. Lex pulled the black body suit's hood over his head and put on the helmet. It was black, with a red faceplate. Even up close, Lex couldn't discern his features in the mirror. There was a thigh holster for one pistol on his right leg, and a chest holster for a right hand drawn pistol. The chest holster was built onto a black weapon harness shaped like an 'X'. On it, besides the holster for the pistol, were two grenades, a pair of brass knuckles, and a small punching claw. Black gloves for his hands completed the outfit. He examined the helmet closer again. It gave him a slightly robotic look. Slightly roundish, but with enough sharpness to it to keep it from being soft. It looked, efficient. “The helmet has several feature that you will find useful. There are external microphones that connect to speakers near your ears. There is also a voice modulator and a display to create a 'light show' to help lull those you need to into a trance. The voice modulator and the display can be linked together. You control all the helmet's innovations by small wheels within tongue's reach on the inner right cheek of the helmet. Give it a try,” said General Kirstov. Lex did, and found it fascinating, especially the voice moulator. He realized that there were just some situations where being able to effortlessly raise his voice, or even yell, would be a big help. He removed the helmet, wiped the spit off the wheels, and held it casually. “As technology improves, or as you see fit, you may update your helmet. We could supply the technology. What do you think?” Lex thought a moment and replied, “I don't want to be Idle Rich. The human mind and its conditions are fascinating. I want to be able to study it first hand and explore it full on. I don't want to be chained to a desk like my Father, or looking at drugs and alcohol as a means to escape like my Mother. I want to be able to make my own way in the world and succeed on my own. I'll do it!” Lex removed the uniform and put it all back neatly in the trunk. General Kirstov smiled, stood, and beckoned Serji to follow him. Serji smiled at Lex again as they left. The General called back, “Use the house until I get back. I prepared two rooms for you upstairs. Serji and I have an 'accident' to arrange.” Anne smiled gratefully at Lex, murmuring, “Your Grandfather would be so proud of you! I am so proud of you! Lex hugged his Grandmother. He sighed and staggered a little. With another smile, Anne led her Grandson to his room. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. There were no nightmares, surprisingly. ... Lex woke the next morning and rubbed his face with his hands. He had been asleep almost eight hours. Having been diagnosed with a weird form of insomnia that usually only required him to need four hours of sleep at the most, he was shook up. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and how he had come to be there. He saw somebody had put his bag at the foot of the bed. He dug out the one change of clothes he had allowed himself to pack, showered, got ready, and dressed for the day. He put on his weapon harness and headed downstairs. His Grandmother was already awake and poured him a cup of coffee. Ever since he had discovered it at the age of seventeen, he couldn't get enough of the stuff. She smiled as he hunted in the refrigerator and made himself a sandwich. After he ate and had a few more cups of coffee, he picked up the newspaper and began to read. Finding the government run newspaper calling the mess in Borovia 'A slight incident of Civil Disobedience that would soon be brought to order', he threw down the paper is disgust. Anne laughed. General Kirstov and Son walked into the kitchen. "Good morning," said Serji with a smile. "How did you two sleep?" Anne replied, "We slept well." "Anne, Serji and I must discuss Lex's introduction to society as Interrogator. It will take some training before he is ready, although General Markov has already done the lion's share of it. They say the Devil is in the details," General Kirstov explained. "First," said Lex. "I would like to know how 'I' had my 'accident'." As the General smiled, Serji explained, "The car 'Doctor Alexander Johan Hamilton' was driving drunk stalled on the railroad tracks as the midnight freight train came into Moscow." Anne and Lex laughed and said, "Very good!" The three men left the kitchen and went into the study. Serji lit up a cigarette and his father grunted and pushed an ashtray his way. General Kirstov began, "you have already used hypnosis to set your head up. All you need to do is rid yourself of your Borovian accent and acquire a Moscow one. No doubt you have already been studying your Grandparents and practicing. You will also stop responding to your real name and nicknames. From now on, you will only respond to Interrogator. From what my superiors know, Interrogator is the result of a project General Markov and I worked on. It could be called a super soldier project." The General paused and poured himself a glass of water and continued after drinking, "Your Grandfather and Grandmother have been training you your whole life for this. If Borovia hadn't have fallen, you would have disappeared with your loved ones to come here." Serji said, flicking some ash into the tray, "All you have to do is sit the various boards and gain certification. If you pass, you will be a member of the KGB and still have the right to be called 'Doctor'." Interrogator nodded and said, "I will begin work immediately." "Good," said both Kirstovs together. ... The next few years were busy ones. To cover his past as much as possible, General Kirstov had a 'trusted adviser' of his 'train' Lex how to lose his accent and disguise his handwriting. Lex was also taught American English by Serji so he could better blend in with the world and interrogate American prisoners. General Kirstov had seven copies of the original uniform made, and an additional helmet. The hardest part was training himself not to respond to Alexander, Alex, or Lex. His Grandmother did her part by only calling him Interrogator. He read and exercised constantly so he could master all the skills Interrogator would need to know. Serji and Interrogator became very close. In all that time, the only word they heard about Borovia was that in the aftermath of the Revolution, the Hamilton House had been burnt down. It didn't seem like any other family members had survived. Interrogator sat the boards and came out with honors. Like some twisted God, general Kirstov looked upon his 'creation' and called it good. Rivals of the two Kirstovs tried to figure out who Interrogator was, and failed. He was assigned to Serji's cell as a pilot, intelligence officer, and psychological warfare expert. Things went well for the two men, and Serji advanced through the ranks as Interrogator gained more knowledge about his biggest obsession, the human mind.
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