by Nathan Roden
Jack turned to face Eckhart.
“I believe I speak for everyone here, when I say,” Eckhart reflexively started to offer his right hand—
Jack threw a right-handed uppercut into Russell Eckhart’s midsection.
Everyone in the room exhaled loudly in empathy—not for Eckhart, but for his stomach.
Eckhart collapsed to the floor and tried to catch his breath. He curled up on his side in the fetal position.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that,” Jack turned to face the agents and office staff.
His eyes were ablaze and he wore a satisfied grin.
“That is a secret.”
Babe stepped toward Russell Eckhart and started to kneel down. Len Shackleford reached toward him.
“Sir—”
Babe continued to stare at Eckhart and raised his index finger toward Shackleford. The Security Agent did not interfere.
Eckhart rolled onto his back, still holding his midsection. Babe stared into Eckhart’s eyes and lifted his hand toward Eckhart’s arm.
Eckhart’s eyes widened and he began shaking his head. The shaking intensified quicker as Babe’s hand grew closer.
“Nooooo…” Eckhart croaked.
Babe touched Eckhart’s arm.
He withdrew it as he sat back on his heels.
“You…know,” Eckhart whispered. “Everything.”
“Yes,” Babe said.
Eckhart squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, and turned away.
“That’s enough,” Eckhart said.
Babe nodded, and stood.
Len Shackleford stepped aside to phone his fellow agents that waited downstairs and then he unlocked the front door. He pulled Russell Eckhart to his feet and handcuffed him while one of the other agents read him his rights.
The Boston agents and office staff looked on in shock.
Jack, Jerry Snider, and David Ferguson returned to Jack’s office. MG buzzed around Jack, trying to determine if he was hurt.
Babe and MG sat on the sofa in Jack’s office while phone calls were made. Jack finally made the decision to end his involvement for the day. He winked at MG and Babe.
“Yes sir, I understand, Mr. President. I believe I need to go lie down now, sir. I’ve been reminded that I was shot a few days ago. Thank you, sir. Good night.”
Jack, MG, and Babe made their way out of the building after shaking a few dozen hands. MG tried to get Jack to lean on her shoulder, but he assured her that he could make the short walk. The three of them had just entered the parking garage when MG’s cell phone rang.
“I’m sorry, Jack. They need us to come back. They said it would just take a minute.”
Babe opened and held the entrance door. Whether it was shift change, or merely hastily made phone calls to off-sight and off-duty staff, about eighty members of the Boston FBI office erupted in cheers and applause.
Someone started a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”.
One by one, the fervent supporters of Jack Englemann shook his hand, or hugged him. Some people kissed him, and some of these were women.
When the well-wishers had finished their rounds, they joined in another loud ovation. MG stood guard over Jack and made sure that no one got too over-zealous.
When MG was convinced that Jack was safe, she stood in front of him and took his face in her hands and gently kissed him on the lips.
She stood back and smiled at him.
Jack smiled back.
Then he threw down his cane, put his arms around MG, and kissed her passionately.
Like grownups do, sometimes.
When they parted, their smiles were even larger.
A disembodied voice rose from the rear of the group of FBI staff.
“Jesus, Jack. ‘Bout time, ya think?”
The laughter and applause that followed were perfect.
Babe thought that this was the remarkable ending to a phenomenal day. And it would have been, except that the last thing Jack said to him.
“Gabriel— what is it? Atlas?”
“Athas.”
“I want him in my office. Yesterday.”
Thirty-Five
“Good morning, Millie. You look awesome.”
“Good morning, Babe. You look tired.”
“Good morning, Tom. Awesome, as well, you look.”
“Thanks, Yoda. Like an Ewok in your corn flakes defecated, you look.”
“How the hell am I supposed to sleep?” Babe said.
“When I lie down, the Sandman comes in, looks around inside my head, and concludes that no REM dream state can compete with the lunacy of my real life, so he just throws me in the floor.”
“I know you told me on the phone, but I have to hear this live and in person,” Tom said. “Let’s see if I have this right. This guy Gabriel had pictures of Eckhart with underage prostitutes in Jersey. He gave them to you, and this brought down an entire international criminal operation and Ebenezer Beetlejuice is looking at life on the fed farm? Who the fuck is this Gabriel guy?”
Babe ran his hands down his face and stretched his eyes open.
“I have no freaking idea. But Jack, and the Director, and the Pentagon, and the President all want me to find him. And I don’t think I can.”
“What do you mean? He was looking for you a few days ago,” Millie asked.
“It’s just a feeling,” Babe said.
“That’s crazy, Babe. If you can’t find him—hell, nobody can hide from the FBI,” Tom said.
“I’m not so sure,” Babe said.
Babe went into his office, sat down his briefcase, and opened Gabriel Athas’s file. He began making a list of places to contact. His phone rang.
“Hello, Babe? It’s Jack.”
“Hey, Jack. What’s up?”
“I haven’t been in to the office. I’m afraid I’m a little sore, from…you know. I just had a call from the Bureau. There’s been another attack on our network.”
“Jesus. How did Eckhart pull that off?” Babe asked.
“I don’t think he had the chance. The head of Cyber says he thinks it could have been a remote trigger or maybe a delayed bomb left by London.
“He also says that London was probably the best he’s ever seen. One of our analysts was accessing a personnel file when he saw the first of the errors. At the very least, all of our personnel files are toast. They’re not blanked, they’ve just been…well, he says it looks like someone tossed a grenade into a Scrabble factory.
“I need for you to pull the intranet cables on all your machines, for now. Two techs are headed your way and MG should be there any minute.”
“Tom Millie. You find anything yet?” Babe yelled from his office.
“Everything looks okay to me here!” Tom yelled.
“Situation normal. All okie-dokie,” Millie yelled.
Babe gathered up Gabriel’s file and walked to Millie’s desk.
“Millie. Just for grins, pull up Gabriel Athas’s file on your terminal.”
“Okay, just a sec,” Millie said.
“Uh, Babe. Something is a little squirrelly here,” Millie said.
“What do you mean, squirrelly? We don’t need squirrelly. Squirrelly is not good,” Babe said.
“There is no file on a Gabriel Athas. But there is a file on Gabriel Angelis,” Millie said.
Babe moved around to look over Millie’s shoulder.
“Did you enter the right name?”
“I entered the name from the paperwork I had. Are you sure that’s his last name?” Millie asked.
Babe squeezed his eyes shut.
“Millie, I’m not sure what my name is.”
MG burst into the office.
“Good morning, everybody. Have we found anything? You’ve heard from Jack, right? I haven’t been to the office yet.”
“But Jack just hung up the phone with the head of Cyber. How did you…oh,” Babe came to a logical conclusion.
MG pulled up a chair next to Millie with a reddish
tint to her cheeks.
She winked at Babe, who reached and gave her a hug. Tom and Millie looked at each other and shrugged.
“It doesn’t look like we were affected, but there is a strange glitch in the system involving Gabriel Athas’s file,” Babe said.
The name caused MG to jerk around in her seat.
“What do you mean glitch? This man has blown open the biggest scandal inside the Bureau in the last century. There can’t be a glitch. Please tell me you’re joking. Please.”
“Show her, Millie,” Babe said.
“Look, MG. I logged everything in straight from the paperwork that you gave me—right there. Gabriel Angelis. That’s the only last name I know anything about. But Babe says that his name is Athas.”
“So which one is it, MG? You have the file, right?” Babe asked.
MG looked stunned.
“I…I don’t remember, for sure. I’m almost sure it was…fuck. I don’t know. I’ll look it up as soon as I get to the Bureau. Babe, you had better get busy trying to run him down. Tom, give Babe whatever help you can.”
Babe returned to his office and looked at the list of contacts he had made. He picked it up and went back to Millie’s desk.
“Millie, please tell me you show Mr. Angelis having attended Boston College.”
Millie made another entry and looked up.
“Yale University.”
Babe got through to the admission’s office at Yale but was told that a request for information about a student would require that he come in and present the proper credentials.
He was not ready to drop this wrong-name, wrong-school bit of information on Jack. He began rehearsing how he might nonchalantly get an FBI requisition for information from Jack over the weekend because it appeared that he would be making a trip to New Haven on Monday.
The news did not get any better after MG got to her Bureau office.
“I have three people rifling through the paper personnel files as we speak. There is no file for a Gabriel Athas or a Gabriel Angelis. And, of course, there is nothing left intact in the personnel database. Can you think of any reason that London or Eckhart would have had for removing his file?” MG asked.
“No. I can’t think of a connection that would make them want to remove any applicant file,” Babe said.
“If London didn’t pull Singletary’s file, why would he pull Gabriel’s?”
“Yeah. Damn it. I’m going to have to come up with a more fool-proof filing system. This makes me feel like an idiot rookie,” MG said.
“Don’t beat yourself up, MG. You’re at the FBI. If you can’t rely on the security there, who can be sure of anything?” Babe said.
“It’s not just that. It’s going to make it more difficult to trust people—even the people we work beside every day,” MG said.
Babe copied down the information from Millie’s computer regarding Gabriel Angelis’s grandparents; Nikolas and Sophia Angelis. The last known address was The Seaside Manor Retirement Village in New Haven Connecticut.
“Jack, can you get me a requisition for student records? I’m going to New Haven on Monday,” Babe said.
“Sure thing. Do you have a fax?” Jack asked.
“No. Who has a fax machine at home?” Babe asked.
“Me, that’s who,” Jack said. “You want to drop by in the morning and get it?”
“That works for me,” Babe said.
Babe knocked on Jack’s door Saturday morning. Jack answered and waved Babe inside.
“Coffee’s on,” Jack said.
Babe did a double take when MG breezed into the room holding a steaming coffee cup in both hands. She wore pajamas pants and what looked to be one of Jack’s shirts.
“Just let me say, for the record,” Babe said, “That I couldn’t be happier for you two.”
He hugged MG and kissed her on the cheek. Then he turned and did the same to Jack.
“Just let me say, for the record,” Jack said, “That no one else is allowed to kiss me, at least until I get used to the idea.”
“You know who is going to kiss you now, right?” Babe asked.
“Who?” Jack asked suspiciously.
“Esteban,” Babe said.
Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall backward as MG giggled over the rim of her coffee cup.
Babe took the five eighteen train to New Haven. He nursed a cup of coffee while he waited for the Yale offices to open. He had contacted many university offices over the past few years, while researching FBI applicants. Today was different, though.
He had never had an applicant like Gabriel A…whatever his name was.
Somehow he knew that he would never see Gabriel again, despite the fact that virtually every intelligence service in the country would soon be looking for him.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Babe said to the receptionist.
“I have a requisition form from the Boston FBI field office regarding a former student.”
“Just one moment, sir,” the receptionist said. She spoke into her headset.
“Someone will be right with you.”
“Mr. Babelton? Right this way, please.”
A pleasant, fifty-ish lady escorted Babe to the main record office’s desk. Babe’s credentials were examined and verified.
The lady gave a quick ‘thumb-up’ before she sent her database on its search for Gabriel Angelis.
“Mr. Babelton, we have a limited profile for Mr. Angelis. We have his name, his last known address, and his course schedule and grades. I’m showing another requisition here for degrees and grades that came from the FBI—that one was about…two years ago.
“I’m afraid that some information was lost during this particular time frame. We had some paper files stored in the basement that were awaiting entry into our database. Unfortunately, we had a water line burst over a holiday weekend and by the time the maintenance staff got the water turned off; many of the paper files were destroyed.”
“Ma’am, this is pretty much what I expected to find out,” Babe said.
The lady looked up from the computer screen.
“It is?”
“Thank you for your time,” Babe said.
“Joshua Babelton from Boston. I would like to see Nikolas and Sophia Angelis please.”
Babe spoke to two attendants who sat side-by-side behind the reception counter of the Seaside Manor Retirement Village. The women looked at each other and then one spoke.
“Are you family, or friend, Mr. Babelton?”
“I am a business associate of the Angelis’s grandson, Gabriel. He has not been heard from for a few days, and some of his friends and co-workers are concerned,” Babe said.
He looked around.
“This is a really nice place.”
“You bet your backside it is,” one of the women said. This prompted a look of disapproval from her co-worker.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a government funded facility?” Babe asked.
“Government funded? Good Lord, no,” the woman exclaimed.
“You betta be taking good care of your money while you’re young if you want to settle down here, young man.”
“Ramona! It is not your place to speak like that,” the other lady exclaimed.
Babe liked Ramona and he sensed that she was ripe for the picking.
“So how much does it cost to live here, Ramona?” Babe asked.
“Mr. Babelton. We have a fully staffed business office if you feel the need to acquire such information,” the first lady said.
“What difference does it make who tells him, Wanda? Jeez.”
“Have you visited before, Mr. Babelton?” Wanda asked.
“They have a trust fund that pays everything,” Ramona said.
“Big trust fund, from what I hear.”
“Ramona,” Wanda hissed through clenched teeth.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble.”
“What’s the big whoop, Wanda? This nice young man is a friend of the
family. He’s not from the health board or the Infernal Revenue, or nothin’. Right, Mister?”
“No, I’m not. I’m merely looking for Gabriel Angelis. I haven’t been here before and I do not know Mr. And Mrs. Angelis. It’s just that we have no other means to track Gabriel down. As I said, we’re worried about him. Can you tell me if Gabriel has been in to see them?” Babe said.
“Mr. Babelton, Nikolas has been dead for seven years,” Wanda said.
“Oh. I’m very sorry. Has Gabriel been in to see Sophia?” Babe asked, looking to each of the ladies.
“About two weeks ago,” Ramona said.
“Could I speak with Sophia?” Babe asked.
The ladies once again looked at each other before looking back at Babe.
“We’re not sure that is a good idea, Mr. Babelton,” Wanda said.
“And why is that, ma’am?” Babe asked.
In true cartoon fashion, the ladies glanced at each other again.
“Sophia has suffered from dementia for over a year, Mr. Babelton. I’m sure she can be of no help to you,” Wanda said.
“But she does so enjoy visitors, Wanda. What harm can it do? Let the nice man visit with Sophia. It might do them both some good,” Ramona said.
“That’s right, Wanda. What harm can it do?” Babe asked.
Wanda exhaled heavily and buzzed Babe through the half door beside the counter. She led Babe down one of the corridors, pushed open a door, and held it for Babe to enter before following him inside.
An elderly woman sat alone in the room in a wheelchair before a large picture window.
“Sophia, you have a visitor,” Wanda said.
Sophia Angelis turned her head slowly, and her face lit up.
“Michael. Michael. My lovely child. I knew you would come! Come to me, Michael,” Sophia said. She lifted her trembling arms.