Voice of the Elders

by Greg Ripley

  13

  The FBI Academy

  Quantico, Virginia

  Jane had been keeping Rohini very busy. It was partly due to the importance of her mission and the relatively short time they had to prepare for it, but Jane also had another motive. She knew Rohini wasn’t used to dealing with the kind of trauma that came with attempted kidnappings or seeing someone get gunned down in the street. The best way to keep Rohini together mentally, Jane thought, was to keep her busy and let her subconscious process what she’d been through while she kept Rohini’s attention on the present. So far, it had been working but Jane knew, at some point, Rohini would have to face what happened.

  Their first rest day at Quantico, Rohini had finally allowed herself to feel those emotions, letting the events of that fateful night in DC hit her. When she found herself with some time to think, it all came flooding back. She had a good cry in the shower, hoping Jane hadn’t heard her, but when she finally came out of the bathroom, one look at Jane told her it was probably written all over her face.

  “How are you doing, Rohini?” Jane asked.

  “I’m sorry, it all finally hit me today, everything that’s happened,” Rohini answered, tears beginning to well up again as she gave voice to the swirl of emotions she’d been suppressing.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m surprised it took this long, to be honest. I figured it would have to happen sooner or later. You can’t keep that stuff bottled up forever or it eats you up inside.”

  “I guess so. I’m just not used to blubbering in front of other people.”

  “Here, have a seat,” Jane said, patting the bed next to her. “It’s healthy to let it out. I’d have been worried about you if you never did. I thought you were a bit of a stoic, but I knew you weren’t a sociopath. I know you probably think of me as just some spy, but honestly, Rohini, I’m a human being too. I’m here for you. You can always come to me.”

  “Thanks, Jane, I appreciate that,” Rohini said. After a bit of hesitation, she reached over and hugged her. As soon as she did the tears began to flow once more. Jane just held her, letting Rohini cry on her shoulder.

  * * *

  After they had been at Quantico for a few weeks, Rohini’s training entered a new phase. Instead of their usual morning run they headed for the obstacle course.

  “OK, we’re going to start changing things up,” Jane said. “I’m feeling pretty comfortable with your fighting skills and you are definitely starting to build up your conditioning; you’re not nearly as out of breath after our runs as you were when we first got here. We’re going to move on to the obstacle course for our runs.”

  The first day they focused on the obstacles, practicing each one many times as they went through the course, taking an easy jogging pace between obstacles. Their goal was to focus on the quality of Rohini’s movement before adding too much intensity to the equation.

  As Rohini found out early on, even the simplest things like balancing became much more challenging once fatigue set in. To combat this, they also worked on recovery techniques between drills on the obstacles. Jane taught her a simple technique she called tactical breathing.

  “So, you can see how much harder that balance beam was after you were out of breath—that’s why recovery is so critical—maybe as important as the movement skills themselves,” Jane said.

  “Wow, you’re not kidding! I practically felt drunk trying to keep my balance on that thing,” Rohini replied.

  “That’s not a bad analogy,” Jane said. “This won’t help you with a breathalyzer, but it might get you through a roadside sobriety test, not that I’d recommend you try it.

  “In combat or any other stressful situation, it’s your ability to recover that will allow you to function at a high level. When all those fight or flight hormones flood your bloodstream, you need to be able to weather that initial adrenaline storm. Otherwise, the skills you’re developing won’t be available to you when you need them most.”

  “It sounds like dealing with an anxiety attack,” Rohini said.

  “It’s similar. It’s a matter of getting back a little conscious control of your nervous system before it goes completely haywire. It’ll save your health over the long run too. It’s not stress that gets you—it’s not being able to compensate for it that does you in.”

  Jane led Rohini through a few rounds of tactical breathing. “So, the simplest version is this: count to four on your inhalation, hold the breath for a count of four, exhale for four, and finally hold for a four count before your next inhalation. This is also called square breathing since you’ve got four equal parts like a square.”

  “That makes it easy to remember,” Rohini replied.

  “You don’t want anything too complicated to remember when you’re trying to get your wits about you. If you’re in an explosion or something that really throws you for a loop you need something simple that’s going to come to you automatically. This works great for that.”

  “So, you’ve been in a situation like that?” Rohini asked.

  “More than once.”

  “Could you tell me about one of them? If you don’t mind.”

  “I guess so,” Jane said, her voice taking on a more somber tone. She was silent for a moment as a faraway look came over her face. “When I was still in the Marines, we had received intel that the Taliban had been using this village in our area of operations as a cache for IEDs. The militants stayed holed-up in the surrounding hills and would come down at night to build IEDs, planting them early in the morning before returning to the hills.

  “Dozens of villagers in the area had been killed over the previous months in IED attacks as well as several Marines. Between the Marines and the other coalition forces in the area we’d hit about 30 bombs over the previous six months.

  “We entered the village quickly that night, and began our sweep. Typically, we’d go house to house, make a quick check for any kind of rigging on the doors then knock ’em in. We hit this one compound that way, and everything was going smoothly. We found a cache of ammonium nitrate fertilizer and big bags of sugar—common components of IEDs—as well as some old AKs and ammunition. We thought it had been a good score, until the cache blew up. It turned out they had set up an ambush, sucking us deep into the village before springing their trap.

  “When they blew the cache in the courtyard, I was outside the door, so I was somewhat protected, but the blast still slammed me down. It was the first time I’d been hit that hard and I was knocked senseless for a few seconds until my training kicked in.

  “After a few breaths, I’d gotten myself together enough to roll over just as a militant came around the corner. I’d be dead now if I’d been a second slower. As it was, I was ready as he came into view and I took him out first. We regrouped and soon had things under control, but it was touch and go for a while,” Jane said. “They set a good trap for us.”

  “What happened to your guys in the compound?”

  “Everyone in the yard died. We lost five Marines and a translator, just like that,” Jane said, snapping her fingers.

  They were silent for a moment as the ramifications of their training sank in. Jane’s story made it all real for Rohini. This stuff could save her life. “Thank you, Jane, for sharing that with me.”

  Since they’d met, Rohini had been curious about Jane’s background. She’d felt surprisingly comfortable with Jane, and it felt perfectly natural to want to get to know her better, since they were spending so much time together. She was almost beginning to feel as though Jane were the older sister she had never had.

  For the first several weeks Jane had deflected most of Rohini’s questions about her background, but she slowly began to open up, a little at a time. She kept things vague—understandable for a spy—but instead of satisfying Rohini’s curiosity, Jane’s attempts at placating her only served to pique her interest more.

&nb
sp; As time went on she tried to piece together what little she had learned about Jane in her mind. She knew she had been a Marine. She must have joined quite young. And Jane had also apparently been in the FBI, but wasn’t doing that any more either. She figured Jane couldn’t be much over thirty. So, maybe a few years in the Marine Corps, a few years in the FBI, and a few more at whatever spy agency she worked for now? That would probably be about right. One night she was determined to learn more.

  “Jane, did you join the Marines right after high school or did you go to college first?” Rohini asked.

  “I went to college for a year and a half first. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was getting to the point where I needed to pick a major and no one thing was calling me. I had too many interests and I don’t think I would have been happy settling on one at the time.”

  “Why the Marines? Why not another branch of the military, or even the Peace Corps or something?”

  “I had a lot of family in the Corps. My dad, my uncles, my grandfather—back several generations, in fact. It was kind of expected for the men in my family, both of my brothers joined, though no one ever expected me to go that route. They probably figured I’d marry a Marine, not become one. My mother went to college, but on my dad’s side of the family I was the first one to go to college.”

  “Are your brothers older or younger?”

  “Both older. One’s still in the Corps, the other died in Afghanistan.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Jane.”

  “It’s OK. It’s been awhile now. I guess it’s easier having been in, myself. I always thought it must be harder for civilians who have lost loved ones to war. It’s such a different life. I think my dad and brother and I have an easier time with it than my mom. We used to be much closer, my mom and I, but once I joined the Corps, we sort of grew apart. I’m much closer now with my dad and brother than I am with my mom. We get each other in a way she’ll never quite understand.”

  “How did you end up doing what you do now?”

  “While I was in the Corps I ended up in Intelligence, and then when I got out I applied for the FBI,” Jane said. “After a few years I was loaned out to work with another agency. When it was time to go back, they offered me the chance to stay, and I took it.”

  “I don’t suppose you regret dropping out then, after all of that,” Rohini said.

  “From college? No. It was the right thing to do at the time. I would have been wasting my time and money if I’d stayed. Besides, I finished a degree while I was in the Corps.”

  “What in?”

  “Psychology.”

  “Really? I would have expected criminal justice or something law enforcement related,” Rohini said.

  “That would have made sense, but psychology has actually come in quite handy,” Jane said.

  “Did you work as a profiler or something, like in Silence of the Lambs?”

  “Nothing so dramatic. It’s been useful in my own personal growth, as well as understanding how people tick—what motivates them and their thought processes. Anyway, that’s enough picking my brain for tonight. We’ve got an early start in the morning, as usual, so let’s hit the sack.”

  “Alright. Hey, can I borrow some lotion? Mine ran out.”

  “Sure. Here you go,” Jane said as she tossed a bottle of lotion to Rohini. “Just put it back in the basket when you’re done.”

  “Or else I get the hose again?” Rohini quipped.

  “When you least expect it, Tinkerbell.”

  14

  Grand Palace Hotel

  Gstaad, Swiss Alps

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Bartholomew Simms said, calling the meeting to order. “I’ve called you all here to discuss our mutual interests in light of recent events. I’m sure you are all aware of the threat the aliens pose, not only to our livelihoods, but also to our very way of life.”

  One of the members of the newly formed cabal, James VanHouten spoke up. “How sure are you that they pose a threat beyond our fossil fuel holdings? I understand your reluctance to reinvest in the green sector with the history of your companies—I know you feel a sense of tradition in maintaining your family’s legacy—but times are changing, Bart.”

  VanHouten had begun divesting from fossil fuels and moving into the green energy sector several years before. While certainly not an early adopter, he saw the way the winds were blowing.

  “Yes, James,” Simms replied, “I’m quite sure. I’ve learned through my sources that these so called ‘Elders’ have more than simply ‘saving’ us in mind. I’ve learned from my operatives that once they establish our trust, they plan to take over our world and enslave us.”

  While not strictly the truth, Bartholomew Simms knew the more reluctant members of this gathering would need more than a threat to their bottom line to get on board with his plans. If they need an existential threat to move them to action, I’ll give it to them. True or not.

  It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d lied through his teeth to get his way—in business or in his personal life—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Besides, in Simms’ mind he felt justified by the certainty that—although he had no proof—what he was saying was true. He felt it in his gut, and his gut had rarely steered him wrong.

  “If we are to support you going forward,” another member began, “we will need certain assurances. I for one must know that any actions we agree to cannot be traced back to us.”

  “Not to worry,” Bartholomew replied. “My security team will coordinate everything. They are several steps removed from me through an untraceable series of dummy corporations. They will have no connection whatsoever to any of you.”

  A third member spoke up. “Bartholomew, when we last spoke you mentioned your desire to contact certain of my associates in the Middle East. Is that still the case?”

  “Yes, Mahmoud, we will need to set up contact between them and my team. From what you’ve told me about their channels of communications, it should be a simple matter to keep ourselves insulated from any of their actions. If we play this right, the authorities will never have any reason to suspect our involvement, let alone our true intentions. As you have done in the past we’ll use these terrorists as a means to an end. While you’ve helped them achieve their objectives in the past, they’ve never suspected that your motives were purely financial in nature. Or perhaps they have, and simply didn’t care as long as your assistance was beneficial to their cause? Regardless, that same trust will allow us to use them in this case. Even if they don’t view the aliens as a threat the way we do, I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to attack the West.”

  “That is certainly the case,” Mahmoud replied. “But I’m sure it won’t take much to convince them of the aliens’ threat. After all, they would be in direct competition for control. I somehow doubt these aliens share their views about the need for a new caliphate.”

  As the meeting continued, the newly formed cabal hammered out their goals and their plan of attack. Mahmoud would use his Middle Eastern network of contacts to put Gruber and his team in touch with the terrorist group Soldiers of the Caliphate. They had been fairly quiet over the last several years after drone strikes had decimated their leadership and their attempt at establishing a new caliphate had failed.

  Their first action was to be their most audacious, striking right at the heart of power, the “Great Satan” itself, Washington, DC. How could they possibly resist such an opportunity? This would send a clear message that the aliens were not welcome and that those who cooperated with them would be held accountable as traitors and infidels.

  Phase two would involve attacking the soft targets of the new Green Energy sector. The new spirit of cooperation between the various world leaders left them with a serious blind spot. While the world rejoiced in a newfound sense of unity and a common cause in the face of climate change, many of the newest renewable
energy projects were going up in such a hurry that security was an afterthought. Of course, this had always been the case. The power grid had always been a vulnerable target. When Simms began considering his present course of action he was surprised how seldom it had been targeted in the past. Attacks on infrastructure weren’t as shocking as slaughtering innocent civilians, but if a terrorist’s aim was to disrupt the engines of empire, the grid was a target-rich environment.

  Gruber had been instrumental in the planning. He made a suggestion, which impressed Simms, both for its brilliance as well as its cunning. To further assuage suspicion from Simms, or any of his circle, they all agreed to sacrifice a few smaller assets of their own to attack, thereby camouflaging their involvement—or so they hoped. Besides, their losses will be offset by the arms and munitions sales to their new friends in the Middle East. The aliens and their turncoat allies will never know what hit them.

  15

  The FBI Academy

  Quantico, Virginia

  Over the next several weeks Jane continued Rohini’s physical training in close quarters combat as well as running her through the obstacle course. She also began exposing her to a wide variety of firearms. While she was not training Rohini for war, it never hurt to be prepared.

  Jane had been impressed with Rohini’s aptitude at the shooting range. She wasn’t terrible the first day. Jane expected everyone to be terrible, especially someone with so little previous exposure to shooting. Rohini had been able to hit the target that first day, at least most of the time, and as time went by she continued to improve until she was as good as your average law enforcement or military personnel.