The Eyes of Others

by Mikael Carlson

  “Assuming the notes were stolen by one of them, why would they do that? It’s not like you’re the mole or these dreams, no matter how bizarre, constitutes some clear and present danger to national security.”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  A pair of analysts walks past me in the otherwise empty corridor. This isn’t the ideal place to be having a conversation with a man who a counterespionage team was just interrogating me about thirty seconds ago. This call would be considered suspicious under the best of circumstances. Given the public pressure mounting around the investigation into this leak, these are hardly the best of circumstances.

  I never should have called him, but then another thought pops into my head. What if they are monitoring his phone or mine? If what he says is true, and they are willing to break into his doctor’s house and steal her notes, it’s not beyond the realm of possibilities that they are. I try to put the thought out of my head. I’m being paranoid, and even if they are listening, it’s too late to do anything about it anyway.

  “Breaking in … it’s a little risky for them, don’t you think?”

  “Only if they got caught, which they didn’t. I could never prove it now, so why not try? Besides, they’re in the middle of a high-profile mole hunt. Americans have been kidnapped and the media are speculating that the VP’s son was killed because of leaked information. Do you think they’ll let a little thing like the Constitution stop them from getting their man?”

  “I was just thinking about that. Do you think they believe you’re their man? It’s outrageous given your history.”

  “Someone there does, and they aren’t going to be bothered by things like facts. They need this done.”

  “I can’t be associated with this anymore,” I blurt out, realizing just how true that is. Government bureaucracy was meant to serve the people, but it often exists to serve itself. When people’s livelihood is at risk, they will do anything to save themselves. I can’t get caught up in that without risking my own neck.

  “You have no choice. You are involved. Now you can either help me or be forever implicated in all this. You care about your career? Then this is the fastest way to get it back.”

  “What do you want from me?” I respond, angry that I got caught up in this at all.

  “For right now, just show up at Tara’s tonight. We can talk about next steps then.”

  .

  ~ chapter 27 ~

  Director colby washington

  I hear a knock on the door as Garrett enters without waiting for a response. This guy has a set of balls on him. I close the file I’m reading and minimize the windows on my computer before saying anything to him.

  “In some circles, not waiting for a response to a knock is considered rude. I’m a little busy, what do you want?”

  “I want you to thank me. I’m about to lighten your workload.” Somehow I doubt that.

  He hands me one of the files he brought with him into my office. I give him a hard stare before opening it. He’s not in a rush, and sits down in one of the two chairs in front of my desk.

  “What am I reading?”

  “That is the official military personnel record for Sergeant Vaughn Rilleux. This is the FBI file on his activities since,” he informs me, as he passes over another, thicker file. “Rilleux was a member of Hollinger’s intelligence team in Iraq before they got blown up. He’s now, allegedly, a hired gun for various criminal elements in Louisiana and throughout the south.”

  “So what?” I ask, wishing my deputy would get to the point without all the melodrama.

  “He’s in town. Hollinger met with him last night and that has piqued the FBI’s interest.”

  “How do you know they met? And how does the FBI know? Are they tailing him?”

  Garrett only smiles, and that can mean just one thing. It must be the surveillance he somehow has him under. It’s the only way he got that information. I don’t really want to know what is going on with that. It’s better to be in the dark in case I ever have to answer questions about it under oath. The bigger question is why he’s bringing it up with me now.

  “How does this help me with this investigation?”

  “Boston is now considered by the FBI to be a person of interest in the leaks.” That got my attention.

  “We both know that he’s not the leak.”

  “I don’t know that, actually,” Garrett argues, “but even if he isn’t, he’s a liability.”

  “So what do you expect me to do about it? You’ve already gone to the director and taken it upon yourself to suspend him and yank his clearance.”

  “You’re damn right I did. Now we need to further distance ourselves from him. He’s mentally unstable.”

  “And how do you know that?” I say, while trying to suppress a laugh.

  “Because of this,” he says, as he hands me the last of his three files.

  I open the plain, unmarked folder and scan the handwritten pages. It’s nothing more than scribbles about dreams and then a couple of paragraphs about remote viewing. There’s nothing that jumps off the page at me that says anything about mental instability.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “These are the notes from a therapist Hollinger is seeing.”

  “Therapist?”

  “A dream therapist.” Now I know Garrett has lost his mind. Who cares if he is getting dreams analyzed, or whatever? I look closer at the pages, and then I recognize a bigger problem.

  “These aren’t copies. They’re original notes. Where did you get these from?” He just looks at me blankly. “Jesus, Garrett! Are there any more laws you want me to break?”

  “My guy didn’t have time to get scans or pictures, so he improvised. I was angry too, until I read what the notes said.”

  “Your guy improvised? The surveillance on Hollinger isn’t sanctioned. We are far enough out on a limb. Why would you send him in for this?”

  “Because we need to know what he’s up to,” Garrett defends.

  “By stealing his doctor’s notes? He has to know they’re missing by now. Why don’t you just send an e-mail and tell him we’re watching him?”

  “Read the last page, Colby.”

  I shake my head and do what he suggests. The last paragraph surmises everything and contains an action plan. I look up at my deputy in confusion.

  “She thinks that his dreams are real-life experiences of other people?”

  “Her notes indicate that she plans to help him make his dreams sharper so he can understand them better,” Garrett deciphers.

  “It’s a bunch of crap,” I conclude. “And even if it were true, how is it relevant?”

  Garrett has always had an ax to grind with Hollinger. He was beyond pissed when I hired him and has been banging the drum to get rid of him ever since. As much as I’m worried that Garrett is trying to use Hollinger to set me up as inept in the eyes of the director, part of me wonders if this is something he cooked up to convince me to get rid of him. It’s just the kind of thing he would do.

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. He believes it. He’s gone off the edge, Colby. But instead of him dragging us down, maybe we can use this information to take some of the heat off us.” That’s an interesting wrinkle, and one I didn’t expect. Where’s he going with this?

  “I suppose you have some sort a plan.”

  “Sure. Lean on his fiancée.”

  “His fiancée?”

  “Yeah. Gina Attison, who happens to be on the staff of Robert Ludwick, distinguished senator from the State of Missouri and chairman of the Senate Select―”

  “Committee on Intelligence,” I finish for him. “I know who he is. And you think leaning on her will force her to use her influence with her boss to get him to call off the dogs? Yeah, that’s brilliant, Garrett,” I practically spit in disgust.

  “Not call them off, but at least get them to bark less.”

  “What makes you think Gina Attison will do that?
”

  “Hollinger’s her fiancé. There’s no doubt she knows about this thing with his dreams, regardless of whether it’s true or not. You were married once. Do you think for a minute that she wouldn’t do everything she could to protect him?”

  Dragging my wife into the conversation was a punch to the gut. I don’t know if Turner planned it that way, but the reference stings. There is no doubt Gina Attison would want to protect him, but does that extend to helping us in the process?

  “I can think of a dozen reasons this would blow up in our faces. Assume she says no, then what?”

  Garrett leans back in his chair. He’s the most conniving backstabber I have ever met, but he’s also a shrewd chess master when it comes to things like this. He wouldn’t have brought it to me unless he had every contingency thought out.

  “She just started in that job at the beginning of the last congressional session. Can she really afford to expose a relationship, personal or professional, with a guy who is at best nuts, and at worst can see what those around him are doing?”

  “Garrett, you can’t tell me you really believe what is being said in that file?” The ramifications of that could be astounding if it’s true. Talk about a walking security nightmare, but I’m not buying into the diagnosis. It is way too out there for me to accept.

  “I have no idea, but who really cares? Colby, I just handed you the key to turning a gigantic pain in your ass into someone who could help protect all our jobs and let us get back to the work of defending our country. Are you really going to pass that up?”

  As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Under normal circumstances, this thing with him would be a nonissue. But under the specter of one of the most potent intelligence leaks and investigations this country has ever witnessed because of the death of the vice-president’s son, the rules have all changed. Everything will be scrutinized, and it’s tough to do our jobs under those circumstances. The longer this drags on, and the more public it becomes, the more the powerful men and women in this town will start looking for scapegoats to protect themselves.

  Garrett is not here to do me any favors, but he is also a self-preservationist. He wants my job, but first and foremost, he wants to protect his own. He doesn’t like Hollinger and considers him a threat needing to be eliminated. It doesn’t matter that he is a proficient analyst who was probably right about there being a mole in our ranks. Garrett has always placed the politics above the job.

  “Do what you need to,” I tell him, content to let him run point on this.

  “I’ll take care of it right away, but that’s going to require giving Gina the stolen file. I need the leverage,” he says, his hand outstretched for the file as he rises from his chair.

  I hand it to him, knowing I’m taking a big risk by going down this path. I just have to ensure none of it blows back onto me. I stop him before he gets a chance to bolt out of my office.

  “Garrett? Under no circumstances are you to mention anything to Gina Attison about how we obtained it.”

  “You got it,” he reassures.

  .

  ~ chapter 28 ~

  gina attison

  “Miss Attison, I was wondering if we can have a word,” the man says from the far wall of the corridor as I leave the office. He’s professionally dressed, but not in a high-end suit, so he’s not a lobbyist. I don’t recognize him as a staffer from the Hill. He’s cocky, but in a bureaucratic sort of way. That makes him from some part of the federal government.

  “I’m sorry, I’m late for a meeting. You can make an appoint―”

  “I’ve been looking for you most of the afternoon. I’m afraid this can’t wait,” he explains plainly. That’s a little creepy.

  “All afternoon? You know that stalking is illegal in all fifty states, Mister …?”

  “Turner, Garrett Turner. I’m a deputy director with the Defense Intelli―”

  “I know who you are. My fiancé has worked for you for two years. Why is this the first time we are meeting?”

  “We’ve never had a reason to until now. And I apologize for ambushing you like this, but apparently you keep a vigorous schedule.”

  He’s right about that part. The news media are doing their part in sensationalizing this intelligence leak, so I’ve been running around Capitol Hill to visit with various committee members and party leadership. I only got back to the office twenty minutes ago. I’m not sure I want to know how he knew I was here.

  “Mister Turner, this is very inappropriate and I am extremely busy―”

  “Is there someplace quiet we can talk in private? A corridor like this is not a good place to discuss what I’m about to share with you.”

  I look at my watch. It’s almost five p.m., leaving me only a few minutes to get over to the Hart Building. I don’t have time for this, but part of me is curious as to why he’s here. If it’s about Boston, I need to listen to what he has to say. If it is about the leak, or something along those lines, it may prove useful to the senator. As much as I hate being late, I might as well accept his offer.

  “You won’t consider this a waste of time, I promise,” he pleads. “In fact, you’ll be thankful I’m making you late for your next appointment when you hear what I have to say.”

  “Follow me,” I order, taking him to an empty committee room down the hall from where we were standing.

  “What is this all about, Mister Turner?” I ask him when we arrive.

  “Your fiancé and his friends are under surveillance.”

  “What?” I don’t believe what I just heard.

  “You heard me.”

  “Surveillance? For what reason? On whose authority?” I demand. He looks surprised at the aggressive tone of my questions. I don’t know what he expected.

  “Miss Attison, please, I―”

  “I asked you who ordered it, Mister Turner.”

  “Colby Washington. He’s the―”

  “You’re telling me that a senior director of the Defense Intelligence Agency unilaterally put one of his own employees under surveillance?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Colby Washington is setting your fiancé up as the mole that is leaking classified information to the Islamic State.” A shudder runs down my spine. He can’t be serious.

  “That’s ludicrous!”

  “I agree completely.”

  “How did he get a warrant for that? There isn’t a shred of proof Boston is involved in any of that! In fact, he’s been warning you about this for over a year and half now!”

  “He’s done more than that, Miss Attison. He’s been conducting his own investigation.” I recoil at the comment.

  “He’s done no such thing,” I argue in a far too defensive tone.

  “He has, and you know it. So does Colby Washington. He’s going to make it look like your fiancé was poking around to see how close counterintelligence is to catching him. He ordered the surveillance be done off the books to frame him as the mole,” Garrett deadpans.

  I have been around liars my entire life. My father was a politician in the town I grew up in. I worked in student government when I was in college and interned on Capitol Hill before graduating. My first job was with the Central Intelligence Agency before getting hired away to work at the Senate. Now I am on a senator’s staff. Through all that experience, I’ve learned to recognize when someone is telling the truth and when they aren’t. Garrett is lying, or at a minimum, not telling me the whole story.

  “That’s very convenient, Mister Turner,” I respond, careful to push back just enough without tipping my hand that I think he’s full of crap.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I can’t confirm what you’re telling me is actually true.”

  “I don’t really care whether you believe me or not. I’m doing this for your benefit, not mine. But if you want proof, you’re in luck.”

  Garret unzips the black leather portfolio he’s carrying and extracts a
plain folder. He re-zips it before handing the file, and its contents, over to me. What the hell?

  “What is this?”

  “Colby had the man spying in Hollinger break into the therapist’s home office.”

  “Therapist? You mean his dream therapist?”

  “Whatever she is, yes. He took her personal notes on his case.”

  When Boston called earlier, we didn’t get a chance to talk long. He did mention the missing notes and the fact that Maryland was grilled about his seeing memories in his dreams. Everything Garrett is telling me jibes with that. Maybe he isn’t lying after all.

  “Why would Colby risk doing that?”

  “Leverage. It’s the same reason he had me interrogate Eric Williams earlier today. He’s trying use this information to intimidate you.”

  “Me?”

  “He knows what you do, Miss Attison. He knows you’re well respected on Capitol Hill and in the intelligence community. And he knows your boss listens to you because of that,” Garrett almost whispers, despite being completely alone in the committee room.

  “So he wants something from me?”

  “He directed me to come over here and convince you to press your boss to have the director of national intelligence and the FBI to back off on their investigation of the DIA.”

  “Why on earth does he think I would I ever do that?”

  “Because, Miss Attison, if you don’t, he’ll use this information against you and your fiancé. It paints him as mentally unstable, and that could be a liability, considering your role here and who your boss is. He knows how sensitive Senator Ludwick is to scandal. You can put the rest together yourself.”

  He’s right. The senator is a better caretaker of his image than he ever was to his own children. He avoids any situation that smacks of a scandal as if it were an infectious disease. If I get implicated in any of this, he would fire me in a heartbeat. I haven’t been working with him nearly long enough to develop the relationship I need for him to have my back in something like this.