Eventually, he locates Andy Michaels’ trashcan, which isn’t hard since the discards clearly show who the mail has been sent to or from.
Telephone surveillance is a bit trickier. Sitting in the SUV for hours on end is incredibly boring. There are so many calls from the law firm that can be picked up in the alley. Getting what his principal is looking for on Michaels or his paralegal is like finding a needle in a haystack. Hours on end can be spent for nothing. But eventually, he always comes up with something.
He wonders to himself what it is that Franklin will learn from this surveillance. Sure, it's a high-profile aircraft crash case with millions at stake. But it is ironic that Franklin, a supposedly ethical well-respected lawyer, would hire a private investigator to snoop his opponent as opposed to some supposedly greedy victim. Snooping on personal injury victims in a big case to confirm the seriousness of their injuries is understandable. He's uncovered some real gems. But this is a first for him, attorney vs. attorney. Whatever, the money is good and easy.
Recording phone calls is probably illegal in the District of Columbia without a court order or a subpoena. Ryan doesn't really intend to use the recorded phone conversations, he just wants information. He never needs to let anyone know how he got it, and he’ll delete the digital recordings once he figures out what is juicy. What Franklin doesn’t know shouldn’t hurt him.
He agrees to meet Franklin at Dumbarton Oaks Café on Wisconsin Avenue just north of Georgetown’s epicenter. It's a busy place and often requires a wait. After they get to the table Franklin starts the conversation.
"Anything interesting to report?"
"Yeah, looks like they retained their expert, heard Michaels talking to…”
Franklin quickly cuts him off. "Just give me the key information and never tell me anything about how you got it, roger me?"
Ryan glares back at Franklin. What a condescending ass. He's hired me to do surveillance, but he doesn't want to know the details? What bull crap. Only from a lawyer.
"Are you kidding me?" Ryan says.
"No, I’m not. They've got these rules that prohibit lawyers from doing indirectly what they can't do directly. I know because I am on one of the ethics committees for the Bar. Even if what you do isn’t illegal like you say, I've got a bunch of ethical standards to worry about that don't apply to the general public. So, yeah, I'm dead serious." Franklin looks to his right and his left as if someone at the adjacent tables may be listening.
"Whatever. Okay, the facts. Michaels has been talking to an aviation guy and he plans to give him the black box data. They've been talking about that and what might have happened."
“They don’t have any theories yet do they? The NTSB hasn’t said a word yet.”
“Nothing solid yet, but they discussed electronics.”
"Okay, great. Probably the same guy he used during the 9/11 cases. A known entity."
"The guy told Michaels he thinks it was an electrical defect but he’d need to inspect various parts of the plane. Michaels told him it would take forever to get permission."
"Yep, we fight them tooth and nail when they want an inspection. Okay, what else?"
"You told me to look for stuff involving his paralegal. I found all kinds of stuff. They've got several different families that may hire them and she’s requesting info from them."
“I figured as much. The press has been covering Michaels and his firm every day. Anything more interesting?"
Ryan drinks some coffee before answering. “She issued a Freedom of Information Act request to Dulles International Airport. It's for all the surveillance videos at the gate before and after the departure."
"Hmmm…We don't get a copy of that because it's not issued in the lawsuit. That's good intel. I will be sure to ask for it during discovery. I wonder why they want it?"
"How do you want your bill written up? I mean, the company name will be Litigation Support Associates, but…"
"Yeah, let's discuss that. It can't have any details. Just put something vague, like 'document review,' the total hours spent and amount owed. We have all kinds of outside litigation vendors and you need to be just another. And don’t give me anything else in writing."
"Roger."
"Let's meet again in a couple weeks, I’ll call you."
“I’m sure I’ll have something even better for you by then.”
Chapter 15
Bond Formed
Amnesia has wiped out everything from before the crash, but nothing since.
"Hey, I remember you!" Amanda says.
"Yeah, I hear you're doing well." Kent replies.
"You had that T-shirt on with four guys walking."
"Those four guys were famous. They were in a band. You really don't know who they are?" Kent says.
"Nope, I can't even remember who my family members are. I just liked the picture."
"You really don't know who the Beatles are?"
"No. Do they play around here?"
"Wow. I don't know where to start. They were, like, the most popular band in the 60s. I cover a few of their songs. My dad has this coffee shop with a music store in the back that you may have been to. You know Café Loco in Middleburg? Anyhow, he has the same poster of the Beatles crossing the street. The road was called Abbey Road and they named one of their albums after it. ‘She came in through the bathroom window, protected by her silver spoon…’"
"I don’t know Café Loco, and I don't know the Beatles. What about the bathroom window, is that a song?"
"Can you listen to music?"
“No one has said I can't, and my aunt, the one who's always here, she would've told me. She's always telling me what I can't do."
"When I'm volunteering here I can't listen to music. They want me to give all of my attention to my work, which I guess makes sense.
"Here I’ll put my ear buds in your ears so you can hear ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’"
Kent delicately places the small buds inside Amanda's ears and she listens to Ben Harper's version of the song.
"How cool would it be to walk around in strawberry fields?" Amanda asks Kent loudly because the music is filling her ears.
"Very cool. They wrote the song about a specific place in England, but we could probably find some strawberry fields somewhere around here and walk through them. Not while you have that halo on your head, but maybe one day. In the meantime, I'll put together some music for you."
"What instrument do you play?"
"I play guitar. Acoustic, electric, and I have a 12-string guitar, which is like playing two guitars that are an octave apart. Sometimes I play at my dad's café or his music store, Ramblin Kyle’s. If you ever get out of here you can come hear me. I play with a couple friends in a band."
"I wonder if I've been to the café before."
"Hard to say. A lot of kids from the local high schools come in, so it's possible, but I don't remember seeing you there."
Amanda notices that Kent, who is sitting in the chair beside her bed, is wearing one of the most wrinkled pairs of khakis she's ever seen. His light blue polo shirt says ‘Loudoun’ and is less wrinkled." He has short chestnut brown hair and she decides he’s cute.
"You're cute, do you have a girlfriend?" Amanda asks, her filter removed by her amnesia.
"Wow, you’re pretty direct. I go out, but I don't have a girlfriend really."
"Do we go to the same high school?"
"No. I finished high school. I'm 20. I went to JMU for a year, but withdrew and came back here. You go to Middleburg Academy, right? That's a snooty private school. I don't mean you’re snooty, but a lot of the kids there are. Did you know you were a star soccer player?"
"Really? That’s weird. How do you know that?"
"It’s been all over the news. I also talked to your aunt. Anyway, I need to go visit some more rooms.”
"When will you come talk to me again?" Amanda asks urgently.
"I volunteer twice a week so it'll be a couple days. I also work at a sta
ble with horses."
"Really? I think I love horses. Please come see me soon."
"Sure. I have to turn you on to some music. I will ask your aunt if you own a phone or something," he says while starting to leave.
"Remember me," Amanda says.
“Halo girl, how could I forget you?”
@Part II
Chapter 16
Second Session
Dr. Lucent enters Amanda’s room, and Barbara Simon picks up the Washington Post and her magazines and walks out.
“Good morning Amanda. Are you ready for another session with me?”
“I’m ready for you to tell me when I can get this halo thing off.”
“That’s Dr. Wrightson’s jurisdiction. Have you asked him?”
“No I haven’t, since I don’t know which one he is. As for your first question, I’m babbling all kinds of madness and can’t remember squat. Is that enough for today’s session?” She asks sarcastically.
“You’re not in a great mood this morning.”
“You wouldn’t be either if you were trapped in this hospital bed with metal all over your head and could barely move. Not to mention everybody but me died on that plane and I can’t remember my own parents. But everything’s great doctor, thanks for asking!”
“Unfortunately, I can’t change what happened. I can try to help you work through where you are now. Help you make sense of things.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Look, my interest is not just in helping restore your memory, but also making some sense of your NDEs. While I would have been treating you for your brain injury regardless, I’ve treated a number of young kids and documented their NDEs, and I’d like to do the same for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“One 10-year-old patient got her hair caught in a powerful pool drain and drowned. She was given CPR for 45 minutes and, miraculously, her pulse came back. She told me she floated right out of her body and traveled up through a narrow, brightly lit tunnel. When she got to what she called heaven, a nice man asked her if she wanted to stay.”
“I know, she didn’t stay, duh…” Amanda interjects, sipping on the straw in her cup then placing it back on the tray.
“Right, she told him she wanted to be with her family, and then came back. Then I had Adam. He was 15 or 16 and had a rare heart condition that had never been diagnosed. He coded in the hospital waiting room. In the intensive care unit, doctors employed chest compression and injected epinephrine and got his heart working again.
“A couple days later he told me he had an out-of-body experience. He also described moving fast through a tunnel, and at a certain point a tall white-haired man offered him two large buttons. At first, he wasn’t sure which one to press because he didn’t know whether he wanted to go forward or return, or even which button would do what. He ultimately decided he wanted to see his family and friends again. Somehow he knew at that moment which button to choose and he came back when his pulse returned.”
“I remember a bright white light, but not any choice about which way to go. Like, whether to come back or not, or whether I did it for my family or what.”
“What is the bright light? What does it represent? No one knows.” Lucent then reduces the volume of his voice to little more than a whisper. “Unfortunately, the hospital is not supportive of my research.”
“Why don’t they want you to study it?”
“A few years ago I published a short book discussing kids’ NDEs. The title was The Inner Light. There is no real-world explanation for many aspects of NDEs. I’ve been exploring whether there is an unexplained phenomenon of the human soul. Any time you challenge medical science you’re treated like an outsider because people are uncomfortable with things they don’t understand.
“Do you remember the children’s book called A Fish Out of Water? Oh, I guess you wouldn’t,” he says, catching himself before Amanda can answer. “I still remember when I was little, my mom would read me that book and I loved it. There’s the famous scene in the book where this man who runs a pet store, Mr. Carp, jumps into the pool with a giant goldfish named Otto that had grown huge after a little boy fed it too much. Otto filled up the whole pool, but Mr. Carp jumped in with his snorkel gear and the next thing you knew he made Otto small enough to fit in his original goldfish bowl again. I loved that book mainly because I never understood how Mr. Carp did it. Unlike kids, I think my grown-up colleagues don’t like me writing about NDEs because they are confused and the mere concept threatens their tidy view of reality.
“This is especially true when it comes to the concept of a person’s soul. It’s something that has not been peer-reviewed or proven in an operating room. So, the entire thing is dismissed. I got off on a tangent, sorry. Let’s get back to you. You told me about the Dorothys, you told me about Justin. Have you remembered anything else new?”
“Just last night I either dreamed or remembered something. I was on a plane —before it crashed I guess — and I’m looking next to me and see a pretty lady. She has a peaceful look on her face, and she’s holding my hand.”
“Your mom?”
“I guess so.”
“Did you see a man, perhaps your dad, on the plane too?”
“No.” Amanda stares at the wall.
“That’s a significant dream,” Lucent hands her a tablet. “Take this note pad and keep notes of any dreams you have, or if you recall any NDEs, and we can discuss them later.”
“I don’t know about a soul, Dr. Lucent, I need to think about that. I mean everyone talks about a soul, but I never heard anyone say that it might slip out of your body. I don’t understand why I survived either. Hey, can I read your book?”
“Sure, I’ll bring it by tomorrow. It’ll be interesting to see what you have dreamed or remembered by our next session.”
Chapter 17
Speed Bump
It was never made clear to her just why she was selected for this role by the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. It remains challenging, though whistleblower Edward Snowden single-handedly made her “top-secret” Intelligence Court job far less secret. She stares again at the affidavit on the screen of the government-supplied laptop sitting on her desk on the third floor of the Alexandria Federal Courthouse.
Top Secret
FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE SURVEILLANCE COURT
In Re Application of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for a Special Order
* * *
Affidavit 2165
She flips to the second page and re-reads the outline. Then she scrolls a few more pages and looks over the order requested. Unbeknownst to the public, Judge Lisa Bondakopf serves as one of only a dozen secret United States Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act judges who review Patriot Act and intelligence surveillance requests. This is the only speed bump all CIA, NSA, and FBI requests hit in their pursuit of the covert dirt. The FISA and Patriot Act provisions allow them to bypass unwieldy grand juries, pesky probable-cause mandates and all search and seizure protections afforded Americans by the Fourth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. In other words, Bondakopf and her eleven colleagues serve as the only internal control over the government’s often warrantless requests under the acts.
"We need to be at the judge's chambers at 2:00 p.m. today for Affidavit 2165," Department of Justice Intelligence Counsel Braningham reiterates to FBI Special Agent Solarez.
"She's never asked to talk to us before. Do you know how many FISA affidavit requests and orders she has reviewed and signed?" Solarez protests.
"Of course I do. I talked to her. But she said she’s not signing anything until she gets a satisfactory explanation.”
"I can't remember one single time when an FISA judge has requested details of our ongoing operations."
"That may be true, but a number of the judges have modified and narrowed our requests. Usually they work with us, but this time she said she won’t. So the deal is, if you want the order, we have to be there at 2:00 p.m."
“Why don’t we just submit it to one of the other…”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Do you know how quickly she would find out if I tried an end-run around her with another judge?”
Braningham and Solarez are ushered into the judge’s chambers. Judge Bondakopf is waiting. She shakes their hands and offers them seats in large tufted leather chairs in front of her desk. There is no need for the courtroom today since there is no opposing party or court reporter.
"I realize this is unusual. However, this is not a usual affidavit. I've reviewed it carefully and I’m not going to sign it."
"Never going to sign it, Your Honor? Why would you call us here then?" Braningham asks.
"I didn't say never. I just said I'm not signing it based on what’s currently in it."
"Judge, I'm a bit baffled. Just a few weeks ago you signed Affidavit 2163, covering telephone metadata of millions of cell phone subscribers for three months. This is only three people.”
“Counsel, this is a completely different animal. This covers three select individuals, one of whom is an attorney here in Washington. Essentially you're seeking to wiretap all electronic communications of Michaels, his niece, and this other individual, Kent Perless. Don't you see the contrast?
“And, I’m sure you remember the Maypole case on the West Coast, when you hit, let’s say, a few snags with an attorney designated as a terrorist? My FISA colleague on the West Coast granted the secondary order because you supposedly had a fingerprint hit. Only it wasn’t really Maypole’s print. Your colleagues were positive he was the terrorist mastermind behind the Spain subway attacks because he had converted to Islam. Let’s not forget how much money the U.S. paid him for that mistake. Do we understand each other?"
Taming the Telomeres, a Thriller Page 6