Soul Reader Series: Book1: Touch Enabled

by Dante Lupinetti

  The principal walked out of his office, approached and greeted Agent Jones, “Hello, Agent Jones. How can I help you?”

  “Pretty nice school you have here,” said Agent Jones. “I need to talk to you about a former student, Joseph Black.”

  “Come into my office,” said Principal Slaughterback. Agent Jones followed him into his office. “Have a seat, Agent Jones.”

  “Did he get into some kind of trouble?” asked the principal.

  “No, not exactly,” replied Agent Jones. “But he had his security clearance suspended for not reporting a prior incident at this high school. I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”

  “Well,” asked Mr. Slaughterback, “can I see your badge?”

  Agent Jones detached his badge from his belt and handed it to Principal Slaughterback who examined it and handed it back.

  “I thought all of his records were expunged,” said Principal Slaughterback.

  “They were,” replied Agent Jones. “Even the FBI has no record of them. He must’ve had some good lawyers, but Joseph Black recently applied for a security clearance. On the SF-86 clearance form, he made no mention of the fake bomb scare he was responsible for in high school. My assistant heard nothing about this when she did our initial investigation. I guess people either didn’t know or, like you, figured his under-age records were off limits. We were notified of this by a whistleblower. That’s why I’m here talking to you directly. I’m re-investigating his clearance. Now, Mr. Slaughterback, please tell me what happened the day of the bomb scare. I don’t think I need to say this to a man in your position, but I will just so we’re clear. I warn you, lying to or intentionally deceiving an FBI investigator is a felony.”

  “OK. OK,” said Principal Slaughterback. “Two teachers died of heart attacks the day of the bomb scare. They didn’t know it was fake. After I made the announcement, the teachers started escorting their classes out of the building. After they got them out, the two elderly teachers both collapsed with massive heart attacks, both of them. The police discovered that Joseph Black had called in the bomb scare. They didn’t charge him with the teachers’ deaths, but they could have. Joseph’s lawyers talked them out of it, Joe being a minor and the teachers being lifelong, heavy smokers. Anyway, Joseph hadn’t been trying to hurt anybody. He did it to get out of taking a test, a foolish prank. The authorities went very lenient on Joseph. They only charged him with the crime of reckless endangerment. He only did six months in juvie and was released to his parents on probation for a year. After that, Joseph’s police record was expunged.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Slaughterback. You’ve been very helpful,” said Agent Jones.

  Principal Slaughterback handed him his business card. “If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to call. Other than that one incident Joseph was a model student.”

  “Thank you,” said Agent Jones. “I’ll see myself to the entrance.”

  Thursday morning Zeke received a call at eight am. “This is Special Agent Jones. I’m sure you remember me. I’d like to come by WJOP to talk with you.”

  “What more trouble could I be in?” asked Zeke. “You already suspended my clearance.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Jones. “It’s complicated. How’s ten o’clock this morning?”

  “That’s good,” said Zeke. “See you then.”

  At ten o’clock, Zeke got a call from Julie. “Zeke, Agent Jones is here to see you.”

  “I’ll be right down,” said Zeke. He went down to the reception area to find Agent Jones and Abby Sorensen, his assistant, in the conference room. “Hi, Miss Sorensen, good to see you again. So, Mr. Jones, what’s going on with my clearance?”

  “Excuse me,” interrupted Abby. “I just want to let you know that I am recording this interview.”

  “OK, that’s fine with me,” replied Zeke.

  “I made a visit to your high school,” said Agent Jones. “Clearly, you have not been forthcoming with us. The last time we talked you neglected to tell us the whole story.”

  “Look, what can I do to make it right?” asked Zeke. “I really need this clearance.”

  “This is a matter of integrity, Zeke,” continued Agent Jones. “If we can’t trust you, what do you expect?”

  “My lawyer told me I’d never have to tell anyone. He said it would be as if it never happened,” replied Zeke.

  “That’s just not the case, Zeke. I advise you to talk to an attorney. This time get a Security Clearance Attorney. I’m recommending that your clearance continue to be suspended pending a review board. I don’t know when you’re telling the truth. Furthermore, if they find to revoke your clearance permanently, it’s possible that the agency may want to prosecute you for fraud.”

  “No, please don’t do that,” said Zeke. “I’m not a threat to anyone. I’m just a guy applying for a clearance so that I can do my job.”

  “Zeke, I’ll get back to you with the decision of the review board.”

  “I guess all I can do is wait,” said Zeke.

  “That’s about it, kid,” Agent. Jones replied as he extended his hand to Zeke. Zeke reciprocated with a handshake and direct eye contact, while wondering what he could ask him.

  “Aha,” said Zeke, “I know what to ask you. Mr. Jones, is the FBI really gonna charge me for lying on my current clearance application?”

  “No,” answered Mr. Jones. “The FBI has bigger fish to fry. We just want to scare you into telling the truth.”

  “Will the FBI re-instate my current clearance?” asked Zeke.

  Before Agent Jones could answer, Zeke felt a kick to his midsection. The kick sent him back into the conference room wall, and separated him from Agent Jones, breaking his handshake connection.

  “Don’t say anything more,” Zeke heard Abby shout at Agent Jones.

  Agent Jones appeared dazed. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t you know?” responded Abby.

  “I was just saying goodbye,” replied Harry.

  “Zeke has the ability to extract truth from a person,” said Abby. “When he grasps your hand and looks you in the eye, he locks on and you will tell the truth to any question he chooses to ask.”

  “I just thought that was a bunch of nonsense,” said Harry.

  Zeke heard Abby say, “Let’s get out of here before he gets anything else.”

  As Abby and Harry left the building, Abby pitched an idea to Harry. “So, Harry, what do you think about Zeke’s unique ability?”

  “I’m glad you stepped in and kicked him back when you did,” said Harry.

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t get much with the first question,” said Harry.

  “So, you were aware of what he was asking?” asked Abby.

  “Yes. At first, I was dazed, but I remember clearly now. He asked me if we were really gonna charge him for lying on his clearance, and I told him, no. Then, he asked me if we were going to re-instate his clearance, and you kicked him back.”

  “So, you concur that his ability is for real?” said Abby.

  “Yeah, it’s for real,” replied Harry.

  “Well, Harry, I’m sure you’re aware that the Secret Service has contacted us about a possible assassination plot on both the president and vice president.”

  “Yes, so what’s that got to do with Zeke Jackson?” asked Harry.

  “I think we could use Zeke to ferret out what’s going on,” replied Abby. “Zeke has the ability to get a person talking, not just yes or no answers.”

  “We’ll just let the CIA take care of it. They’ll waterboard ’em, and then, they’ll start talking,” said Harry.

  “What if we had a way of getting the information without waterboarding? This could be a great plus for the FBI. Besides, we can’t waterboard our own senators, congressmen, or congresswomen,” said Abby.

  “You think our own government is involved in planning an assassination plot on the president and vice president?”

  “It would not s
urprise me,” replied Abby.

  “OK, look,” said Harry. “I’ll get an appointment with the FBI director and see what he thinks.”

  “Thanks, Harry. Can I join you?” asked Abby. “I’ve watched him every time he’s been on TV.”

  “OK. I’ve only seen the interview with Fernando Dollar,” said Harry. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  Meanwhile, before Zeke went back to his cubicle, he talked with Julie at the reception desk.

  “Are you OK, Zeke?” Julie asked. “I saw that kick to the stomach that you took from that Agent Sorensen. What was that all about?”

  “I went into my truth mode on Mr. Jones, grasping his hand and asking him some questions. Then, Abby saw what I was doing and tried to stop me. She was just doing her job.”

  “So, are they going to reinstate your clearance?” asked Julie.

  “According to Mr. Jones, they’re going to send it to a review board. They’re taking a hard line. I asked him if the FBI was going to reinstate my clearance, but that’s when Abby kicked me.”

  After Zeke went upstairs, he passed by Harvey’s office.

  Harvey called to him, “Zeke, come in here.”

  “Yeah, Boss, what’s up?”

  “I hear you met with the FBI investigator again,” replied Harvey. “Agent Jones called me before he came over. How did it go?”

  “Not too well,” replied Zeke. “In fact, they’re talking about charging me with fraud because they don’t think I’ve been forthcoming about my past. I’ve already told you about most of it.”

  “Well, let’s have the rest of it,” said Harvey.

  Zeke told Harvey about the two teachers and Agent Jones additional recent investigation at his high school.

  “I see,” said Harvey. “You got off pretty easy, kid. Kids never think that what they do will follow them for the rest of their life.”

  “Yeah, I can certainly attest to that.” Zeke’s eyes teared up. “I was responsible for the deaths of two people. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that.”

  “Look, kid, you’ve got to move on with the rest of your life. You’ve got to put it behind you. Thinking about this all the time will tear you up. I think you really ought to talk to headquarters. I told you they’re talking about how to give you your own show or put you on some other show on a regular basis. That could be epic for your career. Like I said before, you’re talking book deals, speeches, appearances, stuff you can’t even imagine at this time in your life. I could help you out. You know I have contacts there. And, all this clearance stuff will be history. Also, you could be a big help to us here at WJOP. It can’t hurt to have an inside man at headquarters.”

  “Not what I ever intended for my career,” said Zeke. “But, in light of my current circumstances, it’s looking better. Let me think about it.”

  “Don’t take too long,” said Harvey. “Now’s the best time to jump on this while it’s fresh in their minds.”

  “By the way,” said Zeke. “Some of this stuff about my high school, the FBI did not uncover it by themselves. Someone from this station anonymously told them. You wouldn’t have any idea who that would be, would ya?”

  “Zeke, I have reporters, cameramen, and techs applying for clearances all the time. Many of them are granted access to high-up officials, including the president and vice president, congressmen and women, and senators. The people who work at WJOP are patriots. If they see something concerning national security that they don’t think is right, they’ll act on it, and I support them. We are very dependent on the FBI for clearances. Whatever we can do to enhance our image with the FBI is good with me. So, no, I don’t know who ratted on you, and I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. Sorry, Zeke. I can’t help you with the clearance.”

  “Thanks a lot, Boss,” said Zeke, as he left Harvey’s office. Zeke’s smile faded, and his broad shoulders began to droop. Zeke could not understand a boss like this. “It’s like he wants me to fail. He definitely does not have my back,” he murmured under his breath as he shuffled back to his cubicle.

  Zeke was never treated like this when he worked for CBS affiliate, KOLN, in Lincoln, Nebraska. He was doted on. The award-winning newsman, they used to call him.

  When he arrived at his cubicle, Zeke called Julie. “Hey, Julie, how about lunch?”

  “I was hoping you’d call,” said Julie. “Meet me in ten?”

  “Sure,” replied Zeke.

  Zeke met Julie at the front reception desk.

  “You’re in for a treat today,” said Zeke. “I’m taking you to the Copper Canyon Grill in Silver Spring. It’s not very far, and a great place, I hear. Plus, I need some cheering up after the day I’ve had. So, let’s treat ourselves.”

  Zeke and Julie took Zeke’s truck and headed down Georgia Avenue to downtown Silver Spring until they got to the restaurant at Georgia Avenue and Colesville Road. They parked and walked a few blocks to the restaurant.

  “Football weather,” said Zeke. “I love it.”

  “What?” asked Julie.

  “The air’s changing; I can feel it. I can smell it. Hail to the Redskins, HTTR,” shouted Zeke.

  “Wait a minute. Redskins are my team. You can’t come here and act like a Skins fan. You have to earn that through years of sorrow and disappointment,” said Julie. “Anyway, you can’t call them the Redskins anymore. They changed the name. They’re the Washington Football Team now.”

  “So, I’ve heard,” replied Zeke. “Hail to the Washington Football Team, HTTWFT.”

  “Doesn’t sound the same,” said Julie. “Now, I know you’re not really a Skins fan. A real Skins fan would never call them the Washington Football Team.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter. If Harvey has his way, I’ll be rooting for the Giants or the Jets.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Julie.

  “He wants me to work at Blackrock Headquarters. He said headquarters was so impressed with my performance on the Jack Cong show that they want to make me a regular or even give me my own show. I told Harry I want to report the news, not be the news. I don’t like sensationalism.”

  They entered the restaurant and were seated at one of the side tables. Upbeat, soft jazz mixed with the low light to create a sophisticated atmosphere. Over at a table in the corner of the room sat a group of four young boys, ages three or four, and a mom celebrating a birthday.

  “This is not like any restaurant I’ve ever been to,” said Julie. “Elegant yet homey. I can’t believe I’ve lived in this area for several years and have never been here. This restaurant is so you: a little bit country, a little bit jazz, but all American.”

  “Wait until you taste the food,” said Zeke. The waiter approached, and Zeke asked for a drink menu.

  After looking through it, Julie said with a grin, “I’ll have a Manhattan, stirred, not shaken.”

  “Who would dare to shake a Manhattan?” replied the waiter.

  “Really,” said Zeke. “I’ll have one, too.”

  “I’ll be back with your drinks. Meanwhile, do you have any questions about the menu?” asked the waiter.

  “No,” replied Zeke.

  “Manhattans are an acquired taste,” said Julie, “much like the city after which they are named.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” asked Zeke.

  “Maybe,” said Julie. “You shouldn’t be afraid to try new things.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Zeke. “I moved from Nebraska to DC, remember?”

  “But you’re still thinking like a Cornhusker,” said Julie.

  “What do you mean?” asked Zeke.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this,” said Julie. “But you’re still a bit of a country bumpkin. Always waiting for everything to make sense, to turn out in your preconceived notion of the way things ought to be.”

  The waiter returned with two Manhattans, each garnished with an orange twist and a maraschino cherry.

  “Have you decided on your entr�
�e?” asked the waiter.

  “I’ll have the rotisserie chicken with mashed potatoes,” said Julie.

  “I’ll have the prime rib medium with mashed potatoes,” said Zeke.

  “Excellent choices,” replied the waiter. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Enjoy your Manhattans.”

  “You know, Zeke. I would love to live in New York,” said Julie. “All those shows, the night life, the clubs. DC is so droll. Government and politicians. Everybody running around in suits trying to impress one another. Lawyers running around like leeches on the backs of people’s lives trying to maintain their respectable images. I’m not going anywhere in this town. I can get a receptionist job anywhere, maybe even at BlackRock. Zeke, you should really consider it. The possibility of having your own show or even being a regular on a network show, that’s unbelievable. I could be watching you on New Year’s Eve hosting the dropping of the ball.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Harvey,” replied Zeke.

  “It’s lightning,” said Julie. “It’s a career lightning strike, and it’s striking you. What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you could always go home to Nebraska. Forget the news reporting and the clearance thing. Go for the brass ring.”

  The waiter arrived with the food.

  “The chicken rotisserie looks like a work of art. I don’t know whether to eat it or just look at it,” said Julie. Julie pulled her phone from her purse and took a picture of both entrées.

  “You two have just ordered our two most favorite entrées,” said the waiter. “Bon appétit.”

  Zeke devoured his steak with gusto. “Arguably, the best prime rib in the DC area,” said Zeke.

  “The chicken is so juicy,” said Julie, “but I can’t finish it all.”

  The waiter returned and asked if they wanted dessert. “Our bread pudding comes highly recommended,” said the waiter.

  “Not this time,” said Zeke. “Just the check, please and a box for the chicken. Everything was great.”