The Goldilocks Venture Book 2

Prologue

Swinging my arms, I, Camille Tremblay, microbiologist, former army captain, famous astronaut, heiress to a mining empire, pace nervously back and forth, back and forth, in a prison cell near the international criminal courts of the Hague. My cell is bright and comfortable, like a child’s hotel room, but still a prison.
I try to relax. Dressed in a constricting orange jumpsuit, I finish my floor exercise routine. I try to breathe deeply, but my nerves are just about as frazzled as when I started. I need to get out of here, to help them. “Let me out! I know you’re watching.” Frustrated, I chuck the water pitcher on the floor, breaking it, making a puddle, but otherwise having no effect.
I’ve been locked up for four days with only one obnoxious visitor, whose sarcasm can bring me to tears. They locked me up for evading arrest and kidnapping, probably murders. He thinks I’m crazy, almost think so myself. I know it doesn’t help that I explode in anger or break out in cold sweats. The nightmares remain, more diverse now. I blame myself for being too busy to heed the warning signs. We were supposed to have an ideal life, honored as heroes. Instead, I rant about deadly phantoms and hellish beasts.
I need to get back to them, and for that, I need help. His help. The door beeps and Special Agent Pavlov struts in, armed with a taser, accompanied by an older, mild-looking stranger, who appears to be a civilian. He’s holding a small boxy instrument, and Pavlov has a black blanket and water bottles. I say accusingly in my French Quebec accent, “The interrogation not going well? Trying the waterboarding today?”
“Hello, Camille. I see you are in your usual good mood,” Pavlov remarks condescendingly with a Russian inflection. He shakes his head. “Waterboarding? How can you conceive of such a thing, and we are such good friends?”
“Hard to tell who your friends are. I see you finally brought me a lawyer.”
“No, no one available this week. I would like to introduce Dr. Dunkerwitz.”
I snicker at his name. “You’re kidding, a shrink?”
“A what? He is a psychiatrist.”
“To examine the scans. Did you enjoy invading my privacy, doctor?”
Dr. Dunkerwitz answers calmly, “Humph. The scans are interesting. Well-developed centers of imagination in the neocortex and thalamus. The prefrontal lobe shows signs of having experienced overly strong external stimuli. I note high cortisol levels, elevated blood pressure.”
I shake my head in disgust, fold my arms over my chest, and say sarcastically, “Genius. Who would have thought I might be stressed?”
Pavlov stares at me. “Ah. We came to ask you some questions. I thought I’d try something different today. May we come in?”
“Could I stop you?”
Pavlov smirks. I swallow and wonder what he’s planning. They grab folding chairs from the hall and open the locked door. He places the water bottles on a table and tosses the blanket on the twin bed. “Heater’s busted. You might need that.”
I spot a syringe protruding from the doctor’s pocket, and ask, “Are we using drugs now?”
“I’ll make a deal with you. You allow Dr. Dunkerwitz to administer this serum…” He shows me the label and continues, “…and tell us what honestly happened while you’re hooked up to the polygraph, and I’ll personally take you wherever you desire.”
“Like I want your company.”
“Well, that’s the deal,” says Pavlov.
“There’s no pain or side-effects,” assures the doctor.
Doubting that, I feebly protest, “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.” They sit in their chairs and motion for me to sit by the polygraph.
“Promise? Without wasting any more time?” I ask.
He talks into his wristband. “Promise. We’ll leave right after our session.” He shows me that the offer is recorded and sends it to my in-box. “Now place your thumbprint here to consent.”
“Fine.” My thumb taps his band.
“Thank you, ma’am,” says Pavlov.
As the doctor administers the drug, I mention, “Oh, that’s really unnecessary.” It’s surprisingly calming and probably a good thing. Otherwise, with my stressed prefrontal lobes, I might be too jittery to make any sense. I take a deep breath. “Here’s my story, from the beginning …”