I resigned to the thought that whatever surfer dude had to tell me could wait until we got back to the cottage, I wasn't going to press him here at the cafe. I asked Chris if he wanted anything else to eat to which he shook his head in the negative, looking rather upset. "Cheer up Chris, I'm sure it's not that bad". We headed back to the beach, which was not far. I looked up at the blue cloudless sky and closed my eyes for a second and delighted in the suns warming rays, I could feel hints of spring in the air. Chris said not a word to me. I'm sure he sensed I needed this time out, either that or he was truly worried.
We reached the cottage and went inside. I sat down on the old ratty sofa in the living room, and Chris sat on a beer cooler. "So Chris what's this all about? If you know something, please tell me..." "Look, my name is not Chris and I'm not even from around here." This is not what I wanted to hear. I tried not to show it but my heart started to beat a bit faster, I sat there waiting to see where this was going. "What the hell Chris or whatever your name is!" The surfer dude act was over and sitting in front of me was a trembling man afraid and looking lost. "You're in danger and I think I may be also. This is not what I signed up for!" Chris (or whatever his name was) was beginning to have a nervous breakdown. "Settle down, breath in, breath out...." Chris began to relax inhaling and exhaling in a controllable manner.... "OK Chris, do you feel better? (He nodded yes) What's your real name?" "Tom, Tom Fitzgerald." "Tom?" "Plain old Tom. I'm a programmer from Venice Beach, California...I was on the beach one day trying to learn how to surf, and not doing a good job of it. I couldn't stay up on the board for my life when a couple of guys came over and offered some help. We spent the rest of the day surfing and they really helped me, enough so I didn't look like a fool. We spent the night partying and having a good time- I thought I had made the greatest friends ever. That night I blacked out and awoke the next day on an aircraft carrier. I don't know how I got there but the guys I met must have drugged me and took me against my will. They began to work on me, telling me I owed my country and that my elderly parents needed my help and wouldn't it be a shame if I wasn't there to look out for them. Weeks passed, and I was being trained or brain washed for some mission." "Why you Tom, a simple programmer?" "Well, I'm not a simple programmer. I was working for Google for some years when I stumbled upon an idea for a new computer language, the one you saw me using at the Montauk. It's a unique language, very different from anything that's out there now, normal computers can't even run. Google discovered that this language I created could sink radio frequencies with light energy. Bottom line is you could send out radio messages as far away as the nearest star, which takes years, so we thought. Imagine attaching information to light... Here is where this story gets spooky; We received return replies from deep space. Google was nervous and didn't know what to do, it felt like we had discovered fire. They kept me protected for as long as they could with a constant team watching over me, moving me from secure house to house-It was a total lock down until I had had enough. I decided to sneak away and be normal just for a day, and that's when they got me. The military must have been onto me since my discovery and were waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch me up-next thing I know I'm on a big ship"
Tom, as I now knew him, fidgeted a little bit, still very uncomfortable, kept looking at the front door but continued..." Those return signals from deep space were picked up at the Brookhaven National Lab in Upton, with the strongest signals being traced to Montauk. That's why I'm out here. It wasn't easy but I convinced them I needed to be in Montauk, out and about tracking the signal as a un-suspecting person, so surfer dude was born." "Tom what are you saying?" "I'm not sure. The military believes the person you're looking for may be an antenna of sorts for these signals or even something else. They haven't found him yet, that's why you're still alive-maybe you're their bait to flush him out." I wasn't buying his story, "Really Tom? A surfer dude? That makes no sense. Why would they risk you like that?" "Look, I don't know but I do know we're in deep, deep trouble. I can only play this game for so long before they decide to lock me up for good! I'm only telling you because I want out! I'm done with them and to hell with Montauk! I just want to go back home...please help me!"
Tom was right; We were in trouble, deep trouble as he put it. My every move was being tracked no doubt about it. I suspect people like Tom and I are pawns in their high stakes game and once they're done with us we simply cease to exist. I needed to formulate some plan with Tom. Could I even trust him? What if he is lying to me? In any event I had no choice but to trust him for the moment. "First thing first Tom; Are we safe here?" "No" " Who is your contact and where are they stationed?" " They always contact me and they are everywhere, Westhampton, Camp Hero and some other secret bases. They can be disguised as anybody: a simple deli clerk, a police officer, homeless man- you never know who could be one of them! When they need to debrief me they usually swarm where ever I am, knock me out and drag me to some undisclosed location. I'm there for days on end until I convince them I need to be out there to do my work. All I can say is trust nobody". "Tom, what can you tell me about some of the people I have met out here like Marcus, Elijah and Devon....can you tell me anything about them?" "Marcus is a local thug. He doesn't even know he's being used, he'll hurt you physically but that's all, you don't need to worry about him. Now Devon is a rat weasel. A complete mole planted at the Manor and secretly controls all of Montauk-He's their logistics guy. He is about as devious as they get. He was my first contact here in Montauk and a real scoundrel. Best stay away from him and the Manor " "Trust me Tom, I never want to see him again..." "Elijah, that's a curious one. I know of an Elijah, homeless man, real town staple but he passed away a couple of years ago. Could be someone else whom I don't know..."
"So you don't know Elijah... I also had a run in with your people, specifically a Colonel, Colonel Harris. Strangely he was tracking a mystery woman I was trying to meet." "Colonel Harris is running the show out here. You meeting him must mean they think you know something. Harris is a gambler. He'll toy with you depending on his mood. He sort of plays god deciding who lives and dies, a real psychopath if you ask me..." "I had a strange encounter with Harris at the Manor. He drugged me somehow, time seemed to stand still and then told me to get out of Montauk..." "Had you left Montauk your use would have been over and you would have died in some staged car accident-No one meets Colonel Harris and lives to tell the tale. Harris is part of the darkest opts in the CIA and Air Force. Nobody is suppose to know who he is, and now you can I.D. him, my god it's worse than I thought. We need to get out of here!
"No Tom, that won't work, they'll just find us." I sat back, numbed- my eyes went blank. What did I get myself involved in. "Tom, this is a bit much for me, please leave me alone for a little bit to think this over..." I laid back on the sofa, focused on the sound of the waves crashing rhythmically on the surf. I breathed in the salt air that permeated the old cottage, I asked Tom if there was anything to drink in the place and he handed me a bottle of Jack Daniels- I guzzled back enough to make me cough uncontrollably. It did its job and I fell fast asleep. I dreamed of the mystery woman looking out to the sea, of Brad McCallaster walking into that cold black ocean. I saw Harris laughing as he staged his so called "accidents" and Elijah pointing to a newspaper with a headline reading "Homeless Drunk hit by Car." I awoke sweating heavily, panting. I looked around and saw Tom relaxed starring out at the ocean. Then it struck me like a lighting bolt: An uplifting surge went through me-I felt like Evel Knievel on a motorcycle facing a 100 foot tall ramp revving the engine. Evel must have known he was going to break every bone in his body, possibly even die if he attempted the jump but then the adrenaline rush would set in, he would smile, rev that engine pop it into gear and take off into eternity. I called Tom over who was still starring out the window....
"Tom-There's one thing I learned in life; The system crushes those that play by the rules. Let's not play their game. Even the little guys can take out the big guys when they don't play fair and employ guerrilla tactics. Another thing I learned is don't make it easy for your opponent-they'll take the candy from the baby any day over having to work for it. One thing they forgot to calculate about me: I was already dead when they marked me- I should have died by my own hand on that cold Montauk night. Their fear tactics have zero effect on me, time to turn the tables on Goliath. They also haven't found the Montauk Man. I think we need to find him before they do, it's our only chance, you with me?" Tom looked at me, seemingly like a transformed man and said, "I'm with you..."
Stay tuned for part 9
Copyright Lewis Portal
