The emotions running so high were overwhelming. She could only hope Ryland and his men were safely away. As it was, her own barriers were flimsy, battered by the high levels of fear and adrenaline broadcast by the guards and technicians. She waited it out in her office, her hands over her ears to muffle the sound of the screaming sirens. She was glad when, after a time, the noise stopped abruptly. The sudden silence was a mercy to her throbbing head. Lily took a long shower in her private bathroom and put on a change of clothes she kept for the many nights she spent working.
She was not surprised when two guards asked her to accompany them to the office of the president to meet with a military liaison and the executives of Donovans. With a small sigh conveying her reluctance, she complied. She was drained physically and emotionally and was desperate to hide from the world.
Thomas Matherson, aide to Phillip Thornton, was waiting to fill her in. "General Ronald McEntire happened to be here tonight visiting the compound. He called General Ranier, Colonel Higgens's direct commander, and insisted on being brought on board." The aide opened the door for her and gestured for her to precede him.
Lily couldn't believe her good fortune. A general who had no knowledge of the experiment. If she could find a way to talk to him alone, she could tell him her suspicions about Colonel Higgens. The terrible knots in her stomach began to ease.
The large room was dominated by the enormous round table. Every chair was filled and all heads swung to look at her. Most of the men half rose when she entered, but she waved them to their seats.
"Gentlemen." She spoke softly, her voice filled with her usual confidence. She knew her expression was absolutely serene, she'd practiced it often enough.
It was a measure of his upset that Phillip Thornton performed the introductions himself. He nearly always left what he considered menial tasks to his assistant. "Dr. Whitney has just agreed to take over where her father left off. She's been siphoning through his data, trying to make sense of it for us."
Barely acknowledging the introduction, the general glared at Lily. "Dr. Whitney, fill me in on this experiment." It was an order, sharp and clear, the general's eyes betraying his anger.
"How much do you know?" Lily was cautious. She wanted to be careful, feel her way with him. To stall. To give the men time to find their escape routes and use them. Surreptitiously she glanced at Colonel Higgens, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.
His nod was slight, almost imperceptible, giving approval.
"Let's say I know nothing."
Matherson pulled out a chair for Lily close to the general and across from Phillip Thornton. With a grateful smile to the aide, she took her time seating herself. "I trust that everyone in this room has the proper security clearance?"
"Of course," snapped the general. "Fill me in on these men."
Lily's gaze settled on his face. "The men were drawn from all branches of the service. Dr. Whitney, my father, was looking for a particular type of man. Green Berets, Navy SEALs, Special Forces, Rangers, men highly skilled and able to endure in difficult circumstances. I believe he pulled men from the ranks of law enforcement also. He wanted men of superior intelligence and officers who had come up through the ranks. He wanted men who could think for themselves if the situation demanded it. Each of the men had to test high for a predisposition for psychic ability."
The general's eyebrow shot up. He glared at Colonel Higgens. "You knew about this nonsense and you approved it? You and General Ranier?"
Higgens nodded. "The entire experiment was approved from the beginning and it had merit."
There was a small silence while the general seemed to take it in. He turned back to Lily. "And how would they test them for psychic ability?"
Lily looked at Higgens as if for help. When none was forthcoming she shrugged. "The screening part was easy enough. Dr. Whitney, my father, that is, developed a questionnaire that highlighted the tendencies toward the clairvoyant."
"Such as..." General McEntire prompted.
"The ability to remember and interpret dreams, frequent dij` vu, the sudden urge to call a friend, just when he's in trouble, even the tendency to accept the idea of clairvoyance because 'it feels right' is positively associated with the talent."
The general snorted. "Utter nonsense. We dropped those programs years ago. There's no such thing. You took good men and brainwashed them into thinking they were superior to the rest of us."
Lily tried to be patient, wanting the general to understand the enormity of what had been done to his men. "Of course, there's a lot more we don't understand about the neurobio-chemistry of clairvoyance than we actually know, but recent advances in neurobehavioral psychology have strengthened some hypotheses. We know, for instance, that the capacity for clairvoyance is genetically determined. We all have heard of a few individuals doing remarkable feats in the paranormal sphere. These are psychic geniuses." Lily groped for a way to make him understand. "Like an Einstein in physics or a Beethoven in music. Do you understand?"
"I'm following you," the general said grimly.
"We know that most master physicists are not geniuses, nor are most concert-level musicians child prodigies. My father put together a program to screen potential candidates for an aptitude for clairvoyance, then he developed a program to train and enhance their potential. Think of a bodybuilder. He is a result of genetic potential, strict training, and..." She trailed off, hastily censoring the "probably designer drugs." The less they got into that part the better.
She had no intention of being specific with any of these men, least of all Philip Thornton and Colonel Higgens. Her father had been meticulous about not allowing his formula to fall into anyone's hands; she wasn't going to give it away to the very crowd she suspected of his murder.
The general heaved a soft sigh and sank into the chair behind the desk. Rubbing his temples, he looked at her. "This is beginning to sound too plausible. How did he get it to actually work? They've tried this type of thing in every country for years and had nothing but failures."
"Dr. Whitney used more than one route." She tapped her foot, trying to think of a way to explain in layman's terms. "Every object above 273 degrees Celsius or zero degrees Kelvin emits energy. Biological organisms tend to focus on certain frequencies, while screening other frequencies out. That requires energy." When the general frowned, Lily leaned toward him. "Think of a refrigerator. One often doesn't even notice the motor is running until it shuts off, then suddenly it's a relief. These 'filters' are guided by the autonomic nervous system and commonly thought to be out of conscious control. Am I making sense to you?" When he nodded, she continued. "However, there are several examples of stunning control of the autonomic nervous system. Biofeedback techniques can lower heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature. Zen masters and yogis are legendary. Even prolonged sexual performance by males is an example of somatic intervention over the autonomic nervous system."
The general had a scowl back on his face.
"The point is that the energy that is important to paranormals is usually filtered to pathetic levels in adult humans and these filters are under autonomic control. Dr. Whitney found a way to decrease the filtering system, using mind-body control techniques taught by the Zen masters."
The general rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head. "Why am I beginning to believe you?"