The controlling dark forces have done their job well. They have stopped her, turned her to their side, and made her do their bidding. I have already penetrated their inner sanctums and have collected information and begun influencing decisions. This is mostly in the economic and political realms, but also in the media.
Anthony Briscane helped himself to coffee from the carafe on the table, well aware that his every move was being scrutinized by the three other men in the room: General Wayne Carcano, former commander of the US Space Force, tech industry titan Reginald Deighton, and billionaire oil magnate Sheikh Ahmed Kaddar. They had gathered here in Room 1211 of the Grand Marquis Hotel, as a way-stop before continuing to the Bohemian Grove, a secretive retreat of the world’s elite in Monte Rio, north of San Francisco.
Carefully, Briscane stirred in sugar and cream and then took a slow, luxurious slurp from the porcelain cup. His guests were supremely powerful men, yet ironically, they were helpless without individuals like him, underlings who didn’t balk at doing the dirty work that kept people like them seated on their private thrones.
Satisfied that they had waited long enough, Briscane withdrew a tablet from his briefcase and laid it face-up near the center of the table. His brow knit as he summoned the tablet using a telepathic command. A column of sparkles beamed from the screen and materialized into a hologram of Diana Willis, from her upper torso to the top of her head.
“This is who I met this morning,” he said. “I’m sure there’s no need for an introduction.”
Carcano and Deighton regarded her image and nodded appreciatively.
Kaddar narrowed his eyes. “Quite fetching.”
Carcano asked, “Was this the first time you’d met her?”
“It was. And my impression of her confirmed what we suspected.”
Briscane projected another thought and in the air beside Diana, images from her infancy, childhood, and career flashed in rapid-fire succession.
“Does she know?” Carcano pressed.
“Of her past?” Briscane shook his head. “But with every passing day, she’s coming into her powers again and remembering what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s becoming more amenable to telepathic intrusions again, as she did during the remote viewing experiments, years ago.”
“How do you know?” Carcano furrowed his brow.
“That’s my job.” Briscane tapped his temple. He kept his tone bland to hide his contempt that his bosses didn’t show any amazement or incredulity. They considered his telepathic powers little more than a trick, one useful for their ends, and Briscane little more than a servant.
“It’s established she can receive telepathy,” Kaddar noted. “But can she transmit?”
Briscane helped himself to another sip from his coffee. “Soon.”
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