THE PRICE OF DECEPTION

The aide-de-camp threw the folder onto the commanding officer’s desk. The soldier rubbed his upper arms and shivered. Glancing around the room, he looked to see if the remote control was available. Not finding it, he stood at parade rest.

Startled the decorated Colonel looked up, rubbing sleep from his bleary eyes. Looking at the folder, he groaned. There was an alphanumeric sequence on the outside of the folder. It was easy to see that it was of another military abductee. They used her in the MK Ultra mind control program that was still running though they denied it to the public.

“Soldier, could you organise to have maintenance fix the damned aircon. It’s the middle of winter and it won’t keep the warmth settings,” complained the Colonel.

“Yes, Sir.”

The Colonel’s eyes had had a chance to adjust. He saw ‘AmFrAu13656769’ printed across the top and the tab in black, bold print. A royal purple box surrounded it. The folder was thick and well-read. It was unusual to see a folder of this calibre in front of him. This MilAb had been born in the ’70s. Most of those born from that era had already self-destructed. Otherwise, they disposed of them.

Without bothering to open the file the Colonel queried, “Another one is talking I gather?” from behind his desk.

“Yes.” Replied the aide-de-camp.

“Then have her killed.” Stated the Colonel in a matter-of-fact attitude. Dealing with something like this had become routine in recent years. If the purple box hadn’t been around that reference number, they would have left him sleeping.