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Dorothy and her bodyguards sat down to dinner at a sidewalk cafe in downtown Burlington, like a doe calmly having dinner with a herd of grizzlies. She planned to use her credit card to pay for the entire group’s meal because, hell, if the government didn’t know where she was by now, they were drooling morons. And she knew most of them weren’t drooling morons.
She told her bodyguards, “In half an hour, at seven o’clock, the contracts with the US government will be finalized. Please don’t be surprised if the FBI or Secret Service shows up at seven-oh-five. Don’t worry, it’s just a negotiating tactic for something the President thinks is unresolved. It’s all being taken care of in Washington DC. The FBI should be gone within an hour. Maybe they’ll have dessert with us.”
At 7:00pm all signed contracts were exchanged. And four times five billion dollars transferred electronically from US coffers to accounts for the four research teammates in dozens of banks around the world.
At 7:05pm, as she was finishing an excellent massaman curry, six FBI agents showed up at Dorothy’s table, as predicted, reinforced by all ten members of the Burlington SWAT team. They were polite but insistent: she must come with them.
She objected, of course.
They produced a court order.
So she stood up and graciously bowed to the inevitable. She said to her bodyguards, “Have a pleasant meal. I should be released within an hour. Most likely they’ll bring me back here. If not, I’ll call you to get picked up.”
The bodyguards smiled encouragingly at her. The FBI agents led her away.
As soon as the FBI agents left, the bodyguards put money on the table. Three followed Dorothy. Two went to get their cars. Then they followed the FBI’s SUVs to Burlington International Airport. They watched as Dorothy was led aboard a government jet, which quickly took off.
The bodyguards found the public flight plan filed for the jet. It was bound for Pope Field at Fort Bragg, near Fayetteville, North Carolina.
Several of the bodyguards knew Fort Bragg intimately. It was their alma mater, home base for the Special Operations Command and the 82nd Airborne Division.
No commercial flights headed that direction until early the next morning. So they booked a charter jet to Fayetteville. The charter company’s ad said they could be ready in as little as four hours. But as it turned out, for enough money, they could be ready in one.
FBI Agent Saunders, a mid-thirties bulldozer-sized walking grimace, gripped Dorothy’s arm as they crossed the tarmac to the plane. “Take a good look at Vermont,” he said. “This is the last you’ll see of it for twenty years.”
“Really?” said Dorothy. “Well, I don’t doubt you think so. Please, you’re hurting my arm.”
“Just doing my job, Anderson. So it hurts? Tough. I don’t care. You’re just another convict going to prison. I do this every day.”
“I’m no convict! And I’m not going to prison.”
“Whatever. Did I mention I don’t care? You’re just warm meat I need to deliver. And where you’re going, they don’t care if you’re bruised.”
“Your mother must be so proud of you.”
“We’re proud of each other. Mom just got promoted to Madame of a whorehouse in Norfolk.” They reached the aircraft. “We are now boarding all groups. Those needing special assistance are shit outa luck. Just get on, sit down, strap in, and shut up.”
“Is seating assigned? I lost my boarding pass.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache. My guess is you hear that a lot.”
“Not at all. Not married. And Mom got me a 10% discount at the whorehouse for my tenth birthday. I’m a legacy. Born and raised there.”
“Born nine months after the fleet put in?”
“Yup. And Mom always said coal stokers were more fun than officers. Though it did mean she had to bathe more often. Sometimes every week.”
“I can tell you’re a mama’s boy. I’m downwind.”
“Don’t make me hit you. I’d enjoy it, but my boss slaps my wrist every time. Sometimes twice a day.”
Dorothy climbed the steps into the business jet, followed by Agent Saunders. A single row of seats lined each side of the narrow aisle. She had to bend over to keep her head from hitting the ceiling. Saunders had to bend almost double, and he barely fit through the aisle.
As she looked for a seat, Dorothy saw a sixty-ish woman, with white hair, oval face, and wearing a grey, impeccable business suit already seated. The woman motioned for Dorothy to sit across the aisle from her. Dorothy did.
Agent Saunders sat down in a seat in front of and facing Dorothy. He scowled. But it was a low-energy scowl, like Dorothy wasn’t worth the effort of a sincere scowl.
Dorothy turned to the other woman. “Who are you, his boss?”
The other woman laughed. “No, thank God,” she said, glancing at Saunders with a slight sneer. She spoke with a dignified upper-class southern drawl. “I’m Doctor Barbara Hanson of Durham, North Carolina. I’ve been assigned as your psychiatrist. I thought I should take this earliest opportunity to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Hello, Doctor Anderson.”
Dorothy took Dr. Hanson’s offered hand and shook it gently. “I’m pleased to meet you Doctor Hanson. Meaning no disrespect, but you’re fired. Hopefully we can have a pleasant flight anyway.”
Agent Saunders piped up, “Can I hit her a little?” He punched his right fist into his left palm twice for emphasis.
Dr. Hanson glanced at him briefly and said, “Shut up.” Then turned back to Dorothy, “Firing me is not a problem, Dr. Anderson. I’m sorry to tell you it has no effect. Under the rules of protective custody, you don’t get to choose. A federal judge chooses. For both of us.”
Saunders said, “Yeah, your choosing days are over for the next twenty years.” He smirked. “For example, if you’d like something to drink, we don’t have much selection.” He reached into a pouch on the side of his seat. “Here’s all the flavors we got.” He tossed her a half pint plastic bottle of water.
Dr. Hanson glanced at him briefly again, smiled, and said, “Shut up.”
“Fuck you Doc,” said Saunders. “I’m just as happy to punch you as her.” He grinned, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes to nap.
Dr. Hanson turned to Dorothy, “The flight up here with that Neanderthal Cossack was as much fun as a root canal.”
Without opening his eyes, Saunders said, “I love you, too, Doctor Asshole.”
Dr. Hanson continued, “His brilliant wit is clearly his most redeeming feature.”
Saunders chuckled and, without opening his eyes, stuck a finger up his nose, rooted around for a while, apparently unsuccessfully, then wiped his finger on his pants, and continued trying to nap.
Doctor Hanson gagged. Dorothy giggled. The plane began taxiing.
“I won’t say he’s harmless, because he clearly isn’t,” said Doctor Hanson. “But hopefully he’s ignorable for the rest of the flight.” She took a slow deep breath. “How are you doing, Doctor Anderson? You must be pretty stressed from this past week?”
“Please, call me Dorothy. It’s had its ups and downs. But I’m feeling pretty good now.”
Doctor Hanson raised her eyebrows. “A brave front? I doubt I’d be able to manage that after what you’ve been through.”
Dorothy shrugged. “I know something you don’t. I know I’ll be released soon.”
“Oh!” said Doctor Hanson. “Denial. That’s not a good sign, Dorothy. But it is certainly predictable, given your history. And what is it you think you know that I don’t?”
“I can’t say. Not until you know it, too,” said Dorothy.
“Denial and delusions are tricky things, Dorothy. After all your time in hospitals, I’m sure you know that. We should talk about it. If I were facing twenty years in isolation, even luxurious isolation, I might well be in denial, too. Denial is the first step in such a drastic change in life. Then comes fear, bargaining, and finally acceptance. I’m here to help you face those, work through them, and accept the next twenty years.”
Dorothy said, “You left out anger. It’s denial, fear, then anger, before bargaining and acceptance.”
“Yes, of course, Dorothy. But you’re a gentle soul. I doubt you’ll have much problem with anger.”
Dorothy chuckled again. “Maybe you haven’t gotten to that part of my case history. It reads better if you have a stiff drink in your hand.”
The jet turned, accelerated down the runway, and took off.
As they reached cruising altitude, Dorothy said to Agent Saunders, “That was very kind of you to give me a bottle of water. Thank you very much.”
“Fuck off,” said Saunders, eyes still closed. “Let me nap in peace. Ever have your mouth taped shut?”
“Not in a couple of days. Ever have your ears taped shut?”
Saunders eyes opened to a slit. “Lady, I don’t think I’ve ever had a prisoner quite as stupid as you.” Then he moved so fast Dorothy barely saw the blur. He leaned forward and clapped his hands in the air in front of her face so hard the air cracked like a rifle shot. The tips of his fingers brushed the tip of her nose like a semi-tractor-trailer barreling by half a millimeter away. The breeze from his hands puffed her eyelashes and watered her wide-open eyes. Pure adrenaline froze her in place and threatened to explode the top of her head off.
Before she could even gasp, he was already back where he was, laying back in his seat, eyes closed, seemingly peacefully dozing again.
It seemed a hundred years later Dorothy gasped.
Then she trembled a little from the adrenaline.
Finally, she blinked.
After about fifteen seconds of intense silence, she said, voice trembling, “I’ve d-decided to l-let you n-nap.”
Doctor Hanson said, “Don’t let him terrorize you, Dorothy. I don’t think he’d actually kill you.”
Dorothy replied, “I admire your optimism. Assuming he didn’t kill you, too, would you testify against him?”
“That sounds a little like paranoia to me, Dorothy. Or maybe you’re trying to be funny? That’s a good sign.”
“Doctor, in the past few days I’ve had major countries and corporations try to kidnap or kill me. Fortunately, the killing failed, but the kidnapping succeeded. I’ve been kidnapped and traded between more international mercenaries than I can count. Now my own government and law enforcement agencies are attempting to imprison me for twenty years, calling it a favor. And a man sitting three feet from me just demonstrated how he can turn my head into a bug splat with his bare hands in a fraction of a second. And my psychiatrist says I’m just paranoid. Please show me the door to reality.”
A little later Agent Saunders, who clearly was merely resting, not napping, sat up and tossed Dorothy a small, packaged granola bar. It landed in the exact center of her lap. “Here’s the inflight meal, like it or not,” he said.
Dorothy looked at it a moment, then said, “That’s the second nice thing you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
“For the second time, fuck off,” said Saunders.
Dorothy unwrapped the bar. “So you’re giving me this ... why?”
“Because I’m required to. A minimal amount of water and a minimal number of calories must be offered to the prisoner every twelve hours. And a bathroom break. And some form of exercise, eventually. I’m just getting the rules out of the way so I don’t have to worry about them later.”
Dorothy was quiet for a little bit. Then she said, “I don’t think that’s the reason, Agent Saunders. You know I ate just before I got on the plane. I think you gave me the food because you’re sorry you scared me so much with that clapping demonstration. And I think it shows some kindness on your part. And I’d like to thank you in return by giving you some of my food.” She broke off a piece of her granola bar and reached out to hand it to him.
Again he moved so fast she could barely see the blur. He slapped her outstretched hand hard. The piece of granola bar shattered and sprayed nuts and oats all over the cabin.
A flash of sharp, stabbing pain in her fingers made Dorothy gasp. She wondered if a bone was broken. By reflex she tried to pull her arm back, but Agent Saunders now held her wrist in a tight grip. He reached out with his other hand and pressed hard on a nerve on the inside of her upper arm halfway down from her armpit. It felt like he had shoved an ice pick through her arm. She screamed.
He released the pressure point and her wrist. He said, “What was that you said about kindness?”
Her entire arm was tingly numb, like it was asleep. Rage filled her eyes and clenched her teeth. In that moment, if she could have killed him, she would have.
He grinned at her rage.
The grin was a mistake. It didn’t enrage her further as it should have. It calmed her down.
She took a minute to calm herself and take a few slow breaths.
Then she broke off another piece of the granola bar and held it in front of her face.
“You think you’re cruel. But you’re not cruel. You’re actually very brave, and I’ll tell you why ... ”
“Shut up,” said Saunders.
“You spend your life dealing with violent people. And you must become violent ... ”
“Shut up or I’ll tape your mouth closed.”
“ ... in order to protect the rest of society from them. That’s a magnificent sacrifice. And that sacrifice takes great courage.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard, lady. Haven’t you been paying any attention at all?”
“Yes, I have. I understand that you’re trying to treat me as professionally as you know how. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. You are a good person.” And Dorothy tossed the piece of granola bar onto his lap.
Doctor Hanson burst out laughing, then stopped immediately, putting her hand over her mouth.
Agent Saunders said to Dorothy, “I’m real tempted to splatter your brains on that wall,” he raised his hand to strike, “except there aren’t enough brains to make a decent bug splat.” He lowered his hand.
Dorothy said, “You’re very aware of your feelings, and very honest about them. You’re also very much in control of them.”
“Oh, fer crissakes!”
“And you’re aware of my feelings, too, aren’t you? You haven’t dehumanized me. What am I feeling now?”
“Shut the fuck up! Let me sleep!”
“I will ... after you accept my compliment.”
“No.”
“Then you force me to write a letter of commendation to your boss. If you won’t accept the compliment, then he or she will.”
“Oh, come on now! That one’s straight out of Zimbardo’s damn TED Talk!”
“No it isn’t, Agent Saunders. It’s from the Canadian Mounty test of positive reinforcement.”
“True, but that was in response to Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment, to see if reverse reinforcement would undo the propensity for abuses.” Agent Saunders looked at Doctor Hanson and asked, “Hopeless?”
Hanson nodded and, with a slight giggle, said, “Hopeless.”
Saunders narrowed his eyes at Dorothy. “You clever little shit ... using reverse Milgram reinforcement on me!”
“I thought it fitting, you big shit, since you were trying to induce Stockholm syndrome in me.”
“Hah! When did you figure that out?”
“Just after I sat down, when Good Cop here,” Dorothy jerked her thumb toward Doctor Hanson, “talked about how she wanted me to accept my upcoming isolation, while knowing perfectly well I have anger issues. My case history screams anger issues. She couldn’t have missed it. So I knew you two were up to something. Standard good-cop-bad-cop procedure elicits confessions. But I haven’t got anything to confess. So I figured you were after something else. And you, Agent Saunders, gave it away. You were abusive and life threatening. Totally unnecessary under the circumstances. But fear is a prerequisite of Stockholm syndrome. And you were also witty and sarcastic, making it easy for me to identify with you. Bingo, that’s all the pieces required for Stockholm syndrome right there. Plus it’s a perfect fit for how the government wants me to be compliant and identify with my captors. The only thing remaining is time to let the change happen. So this is just the start. But it’s an excellent start.
“And you, Doctor Hanson, you underlined it. You are clearly very experienced with this. But you’re too experienced. When he clapped his hands in front of my face, you didn’t flinch. You really need to work on your flinch.
“My only other concern is that you both seem rushed. Normally you should spend a few days letting the fear soak in, before encouraging me to identify with you.”
Saunders grinned, “You’re good.”
“I didn’t spend thirty years in and out of therapy without picking up a few tricks the hard way. And, by the way, who the hell are you really? You’re no sociopathic brute, though you’re an excellent actor. My guess is you’re a professional hostage negotiator. Do you work for the FBI?”
Saunders’ eyes widened, “You’re very good. No, I don’t work for the FBI. I’m freelance. And, to answer your concern, yes, we were rushed. We could spare only three days for this contract. Normally we take two weeks.”
“And there’s something familiar about your mannerisms. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Oh! Have you ever served in the Army, say, Special Forces?”
“Navy SEALs. Same as Army Special Forces, only better and with webbed feet. One question, though. We were trying to provoke anger in you right away. We hoped we could get you past it in a day or two. It didn’t work. You didn’t get angry. Why the hell not?”
Dorothy’s mouth dropped open. She looked at the two of them for a few breaths, then said, “I don’t know. That should have worked. I should have gone off scale high. Totally nuts. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
They were quiet for a moment. Then Doctor Hanson asked, “Have you had a near-death experience recently?”
Dorothy nodded. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. “I haven’t thought about ... ” Her voice shook. “I need time to ... ”
Doctor Hanson reached across the aisle and gripped her hand. “That tends to recalibrate anger. That’s a very good sign, Dorothy. Though I know it must have been hard on you.”
They were quiet for a while, with Doctor Hanson still gripping Dorothy’s hand. Saunders handed her a tissue to wipe her tears.
Finally, Dorothy said, “I knew I was going to die. I should have been terrified. But I was relieved.” She sniffled and cried quietly.
Doctor Hanson said, “Your fears were tangled. That’s what paranoia is. You’d been afraid of the wrong things. The threat of death untangled them. You weren’t relieved you were going to die. You were relieved your brain was untangling.”
Dorothy wiped her eyes and blew her nose a couple of times. When she regained composure she said, “Please, I must get your real business cards. You have skills my teammates and I will likely need when we’re released.”
“Sure,” said Saunders. He dug into a pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Though I’ll be long retired by the time you’re released.”
Wiping away the last tears Dorothy tried to look smug, “Don’t believe everything the government tells you about that, sonny boy. You’re looking at your calendar. I’m looking at my watch. And someday I’d like to meet your mother. I think she and I would get along just fine.”
“I’m certain of that, Professor Anderson. She’s sitting next to you.” Saunders turned to Doctor Hanson, while Dorothy’s eyes went wide. “Mom, I’d like to introduce Professor Dorothy Anderson. Professor Anderson, I’d like to introduce my mother, Doctor Barbara Hanson, (she kept her maiden name), chair of the psychiatry department at Duke school of medicine.”
Dorothy turned to Doctor Hanson. “Meaning no disrespect, Doctor Hanson, but is this for real, or are you still fucking with my head?”
Doctor Hanson grinned broadly. “Please, call me Barbara. Yes, this is for real. Your head is safe. Well ... from us at least. Any problems you still have are not our fault. But I will say this: I don’t think you’re as troubled as you think you are. And certainly not as troubled as you used to be.”
Dorothy looked back and forth between Doctor Hanson and Agent Saunders. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Boy, I’m screwed up. But you two have the weirdest relationship I’ve ever heard of. You could sell tickets, and I’d buy a season pass. And I didn’t notice before, but he has your smile.”
“Yes ... well ... he rarely wears it while working. But he’s a good boy.
“But, Dorothy, you just said you think you’re still, to use your words, screwed up. Yet that was a brilliant bit of psychological deduction and counterattack you just pulled off. I’m really impressed. And your anger and paranoia are clearly improving. So tell me why you think you’re screwed up?”
“That’s easy,” said Dorothy. “I don’t know who I am any more. The world used to fill me with fear and anger. But now the anger is gone. That anger was my core, my rock, my center. That anger was my old friend. And that anger was me. And with that anger I was never alone. And now it’s gone. And I’m not me anymore.” As she talked her eyes filled again with tears. “And I don’t know who I am, and that frightens me. And this fear is a new kind of fear.” She was crying fully now. Saunders handed her a box of tissues.
“I feel like a lost child all the time now. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how to get home. I don’t even know where home is.” Dorothy blew her nose a couple of times.
“Everyone around me is ... well ... they’re looking out for themselves, not me. I’m not paranoid about them anymore. I don’t fear or hate them. But I can’t trust them. And ... oh god ... I’m all alone!” She broke down completely, crying as hard as a person can cry. Between racking sobs she said, “I want ... my mommy ... and daddy!” Then she just cried. And cried.
In time, Dorothy and Doctor Hanson talked. Really talked. For the two hours remaining in their flight. It wasn’t a cure. But it helped.