Freedom TM

slung on straps with suppressors at their tips. They weren’t weapons Strickland had seen before—and he had seen just about everything. Probably elite special operators. Private industry always had the best gear….
    Strickland stood up. “Gentlemen.”
    That’s when he noticed their gun barrels were smoking. The odor of cordite wafted over him.
    One of them raised a gauntleted hand and motioned for the outliers to walk around the edges of the desk—approaching Strickland from two different directions.
    “Whoa, what’s going on?”
    The voice came over a radio speaker. “Nothing, sir. Please put these on.” He reached forward, extending a pair of expensive-looking eyeglasses.
    “Hold … what?”
    The two soldiers on either side grabbed him roughly by the arms. Their grip was crushing—almost supernaturally strong.
    Again came the radio voice from that inscrutable mirrored faceplate in front of him. “I said, put these on.”
    “Okay. For chrissake. What’s going on?” The twin guards relaxed their grip enough for him to take the glasses—heavy things—and put them on.
    As he did so, the view in front of him suddenly changed to reveal a sixth person in the room—a ghostly apparition that was kneeling next to Strickland’s lone patient among the rows of beds. He could hear it whispering.
    “Oh my god …”
    As Strickland spoke, the apparition turned and stood. It then walked calmly and methodically toward him. It was unaccountably the translucent apparition of … apparently of an SS officer with full trench coat, monocle, and peaked hat.
    Strickland tried to back up, he was so startled, but the guards held him fast.
    The ghostly Nazi came right up to Strickland’s terrified face. “Now ve can see each other. Do you know of me, mein Herr?”
    “Do I know of you? I don’t even know what you are!”
    “It was a yes or no qvestion. And yet it vas seemingly beyont you.” The ghostly Nazi turned to the real-world soldiers. “Place ze cap on him.”
    Strickland struggled as one of the men approached with what looked like a water polo helmet. Wires led from it to a controller. They began to strap it to his head.
    “Hold it! I’ll tell you what you want! You don’t have to do this!”
    The Nazi pulled out a long black cigarette filter and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag. “It tastes so much better at zis resolution.” He turned to Strickland and gestured at his headwear. “Ze cap on your head uses near infrared to measure blood acktifity in your brain. In short—it tells me if you’re lying.”
    “I just work here. I was taking care of him.” Strickland could already see a real-life, human medical team moving over to his patient—half a dozen men and women holding IVs and wheeling a stretcher.
    The SS officer laughed a unique, wicked laugh. “I haf no idea vat you’re saying … but it sounds terrified.” Then he focused hisspectral gaze on Strickland. “Ver you ze one who injured mein Freund?”
    “No! I swear it!”
    The Nazi paused a moment and then nodded—before asking, “Do you know ver I can find ze perpetrators?”
    “No.”
    He spoke more insistently. “Do you know ver I can find zem!”
    “No! I don’t know!”
    There was a pause. The Nazi nodded again. “Vill zey be coming back to zis place?”
    Strickland waited as long as he dared—then nodded. “Yes.”
    “Gut, gut, mein Herr! Ve are just about finished here.” He walked right up to Strickland, blowing virtual smoke in his face—causing Strickland to cough out of instinct. “Tell me … vould you haf enjoyed harming mein Freund—if you had ze chance?”
    Strickland just stared. His mouth was suddenly dry as he looked into the ghostly eyes only inches from his own. They were insanely real—as was the gleam in them when the Nazi smiled.
    “Zat’s vat I thought.…” He turned to the soldiers. “Secure him, gentlemen.…”
    A soldier pulled the cap off his head.
    “Hold it! Hold it!” Strickland looked to the faceplate of the soldier to his right, then to his left. “It’s wrong! The machine is wrong!”
    The soldiers grabbed his wrists and slammed his hands against the wall with incredible force. They seemed to have artificial musculature in their suits that he was helpless to resist.
    They placed steel restraints over his wrists and then tapped the wall looking for studs—finally using a power tool to bolt the restraints in place. They repeated the process for his struggling feet.
    “No!