by Ann Heathman
“Now, now, Zach. Don’t hit the panic button. I heard what happened last night. I think we can fix this.”
“I never panic. This is not about panic. Twenty-four hours, a new comm’s operator will be sitting at the table out there or else we won’t.”
Eric ran his hands threw his hair in frustration. “Okay, so let me understand what you’re saying. You want me to issue a burn notice on Clare. Is that what you’re saying?”
Zach stared at him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Boy, she’s not going to like this. It will kill her career, you know?”
“Look, let’s cut to the chase, Eric. I take no pleasure in this request, but this is not a fucking game we’re playing here. From my viewpoint, it is far better to kill her career, than for her to get myself or one of my team killed because she’s too emotional to handle the action.”
He got up to leave. “Let me know when her successor arrives.” He slammed the door and left.
Harold beckoned Arianna into his office early Friday morning when she arrived for work. She entered followed by Marcus, her new bodyguard, who was covering the daytime guard duty. Kevin and a man she didn’t recognize were waiting inside.
“This is FBI agent, Lyle Walters,” Harold said, introducing the man to the group. “Agent Walters works in the counter-terrorism unit. He’s here to investigate the threats we’ve been getting.”
Everyone greeted the agent and took a seat.
“I told him you just received another threat yesterday, Arianna,” Harold continued. “You haven’t had any since then have you?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Agent Walters stepped up to speak. “Good morning, everyone. I’m here because we take these kinds of threats seriously especially with what’s been in the news lately both here and abroad. I have to tell you however, unless we can get a name, there’s not much we can do that you aren’t already doing by way of some enhanced security. I’ve sent the note found on the door to our lab in Quantico for analysis. We’re looking for fingerprints or a DNA match with any known or potential terrorists we might have in our database. Getting a name is key to resolving this. Without one, we could end up just chasing our tail.”
“What about the veiled threats from CAIR?” Kevin asked.
Agent Walters grimaced. “They’re definitely walking a fine line between exercising their first amendment right of free speech versus crossing the line into making an unlawful threat. It’s a close call really.
“Now, Ms. Garrett, I understand you have some threats on your phone. We might be able to trace them, so I’m going to need to collect it for analysis.”
Arianna felt a momentary pang of anxiety. Zach had still never called her, but it was her one lifeline to him. She didn’t want to give it up.
“There are no messages on my phone,” she said.
“Excuse me,” the agent said. “You mean you erased them. Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t.”
Walters looked confused. “Well, even if they accidently got erased, we may be able to recover them. May I see your phone?”
Arianna hesitated, but finally pulled her phone out of her purse and handed it to him.
“Ahh! I see. This all makes sense now. You have a Blackphone. It’s encrypted, and I suspect someone set a burn notice for incoming texts.”
Arianna nodded. “After an hour, incoming texts disappear. Those threats are gone.”
“These are tough phones to crack,” Walters said. “They’re advertised as the ultimate NSA-Proof Smartphone. Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm. Would the person who set this up be willing to help us unlock the phone, so we can try to recover these texts?”
Arianna thought that was a good question. It would require talking to Zach and that didn’t seem to be feasible.
Marcus stepped forward. “This phone was set-up by Ms.Garrett’s boyfriend, Zach Acevedo. He is currently out of the country and unreachable. I’m afraid he’ll be no help, so for the time being, I think the phone should remain with Arianna.” He held his hand out, expecting the agent to return the phone.
“This is a prime link to the person doing the texting. I think it’s a mistake to not let us take it although as I said, the security on this phone is so good, even the NSA can’t crack it.” He handed the phone to Marcus who handed it back to Arianna. “For now, we’ll let you keep this, but for your safety, and in order to solve this case, we will need to talk with your boyfriend and see if we can get his help opening up the phone. When do you expect him to be back in-country?”
Arianna shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea.
“Well, at this point, his return date is unknown,” Marcus interjected, “but I’m sure Mr. Acevedo will offer his full cooperation once he’s informed of the situation.”
“Uh, huh. All very cryptic, I’d say.” Agent Walters had a skeptical look on his face. “In the meantime, Ms. Garrett, if you receive a threat, I’d like to know the time and date and for you to try to print out a copy of it. Is that possible?”
“Yes, sir,” Arianna said. “I’ll try. I want to solve this as soon as possible.”
“So I guess this leaves us in a very precarious position,” Agent Walters continued.
“How so?” Harold asked.
“Well, without a suspect, we have no choice but to wait until we have an actual physical threat before we can do anything. That’s a very dangerous position to be in.” He put his coat on in preparation for leaving. “Let’s hope we get a name or something tangible to go on before that happens.” Opening the door, he said, “Ms. Garrett. Gentlemen. I’ll be in touch.”
After the agent left, everyone sat in silence. No one knew what to say really.
Arianna finally spoke up. “Okay, well, that’s that. We need to move on. We can’t sit here in limbo, waiting for something to happen. We’re doing all we can do to be safe, so let’s carry on until something changes.”
“Agreed,” Kevin said. “One week until the film airs, and in the meantime, we have other work to do. Arianna, we need to get together to talk about our next project. Let me know when you’re free.”
She nodded and left with Marcus trailing behind.
“THE SOLES of my feet are burning,” Lisa said as she sat down and slipped off her shoes. For the last three hours, she and Arianna had been walking around the exhibits at the Architectural Digest Home Show in New York City.
Arianna bought two diet Cokes and sat down beside her. “Well, you’ve been touring these exhibits for three days now, looking for the latest trends in decorating, so I’d think your feet would be broken in by now.”
“You’d think, but I wore the wrong pair of shoes today. Should have chosen comfort over fashion. Good news is, I’ve gotten a lot of new design ideas. I can’t wait to open my own decorator’s studio back in Costa Luna. Tony said he’d help me get started. I want to do it without his help, but that might not be possible since I have pretty expensive tastes.”
“Hey, if he wants to help you, let him. I think it’s a great idea. You’re a very talented designer. I know your business will be a huge success.”
“I hope so. I’ll be so disappointed if it flops.”
“It won’t. You’re too good.” Arianna rubbed her calves which were aching from trailing along with Lisa through the large exhibit hall. “Look at poor Raul over there,” she whispered. “Have you ever seen anyone look so bored before in your life?”
Both girls giggled. He stood over by the concession stand, looking aimlessly around. Bless his heart. He was never more than a few feet away, doing his job no matter how boring the location.
“Oh, by the way,” Arianna said, “next week Harold’s having a viewing party on the night the documentary airs. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Break out the champagne. Time to celebrate.”
“Speaking of celebrations,” Arianna said, taking a sip of her Coke, “I almost forgot to tel
l you. Camilla called last night. She’s engaged.”
“Engaged! Boy, that was fast. When’s the wedding?”
“No date yet, but they are planning a quick wedding because her fiancé is going to Naval Officer’s Training School next month. Camilla said they want to get married before he has to report.”
“I wonder how quick,” Lisa said. “It would be nice if Zach could be home for his sister’s wedding.”
There was a dull ache in Arianna’s stomach at just the mention of Zach’s name. It seemed like an eternity since she’d seen him. It would be nice for him to be home— period.
“She’s been a busy girl since we’ve been gone. Did she send a picture of him?” Lisa asked.
“No, oh wait. I forgot. She said to check her Facebook page. Here, let’s look.” She pulled her phone out and opened the Facebook app. There it was… an engagement picture of the happy couple.
“Oh, he’s good looking,” Lisa said. “And he looks Hispanic. That will please the family.”
“Yes, he’s quite handsome. After my film airs next week, we’ll be heading back to Zach’s house. Maybe you can help plan the wedding.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a decorator, not a wedding planner, but we’ll see what she has in mind. I may have a few ideas.”
ARIANNA PACKED all but a change of clothes, some toiletries, and pair of pajamas in preparation for flying home in the morning. After picking up her mother, Kathryn Garrett, at the airport, they proceeded to Harold’s house to watch the airing of the 60 Minutes documentary.
Arianna could hardly contain her excitement. The broadcast of this film fulfilled a life-long dream she’d had of having a journalistic piece of hers air on a major network. Tonight there was going to be a big celebration and her mother, a best friend, a business partner, and her boss would all be present to celebrate this achievement with her. Had Zach been there, the celebration would have been complete, but that was not to be.
“This is your big day,” Kathryn said, as they left the airport on the way to Harold’s. “I’ve told all our family… your aunts, uncles, cousins and all my friends as well. I was so obnoxious about it, I even created an email list to send out and remind people of the time and station. I couldn’t help myself. I’m so proud of you.”
Arianna shook her head. “That’s funny. I emailed a couple of my old friends and sorority sisters, but no mass mailing like yours. Thank you, though. I’m glad you’re proud of me.”
“Too bad your friend Zach can’t be here to see it. You must be disappointed.”
“Hmmm,” she said, not really answering. She couldn’t talk about him for fear she’d start crying.
They arrived at Harold’s where Kevin and Lisa were already waiting.
“Welcome, everyone,” Harold said as he greeted them at the door. “Come on in. This is my wife, Marjorie.”
Everyone exchanged greetings and moved on into the living room.
“Help yourself to appetizers on the buffet,” Harold said, “and there’s a fully stocked bar over by the fireplace.”
Arianna filled her plate with some snacks while Harold made her a gin and tonic. Thanking him, she took the drink and moved over to the sofa where Kevin was sitting.
“You nervous?” he asked when she sat down.
“Kind of, but excited, too. It’s been a long journey filming this story and getting it on the air.”
“Yeah, you getting kidnapped, and me having to make my way out of a war zone was quite an adventure. I think the audience will be as interested in that part of the story as the documentary itself. I can’t wait to see your interview.”
“Okay, everyone,” Harold said as he flipped on the HD Smart TV, “get your drinks and snacks and gather around. It’s show time.”
The group watched anxiously as the 60 Minutes logo appeared, and the trademark ticking clock sounded the start of the program. Arianna appeared on the screen, and the TV host said, “Dressed in a burqa, journalist, Arianna Garrett, went undercover along with fellow reporter Kevin Baxter to film the life of Afghan women under the Taliban.”
Everyone in the room cheered.
“I had to wear the burqa which I called my walking detention center. It covers absolutely everything,” Arianna told the reporter, as the camera switched to a picture of her wearing the burqa. “It made breathing difficult, and I felt claustrophobic…at times even carsick, but it was important for me to experience what these women went through every day. Also, I had to wear it, or I would never have been allowed into the country.”
The camera switched to a scene of a group of women, huddled on the ground being beaten by a man with a switch. “This also happened to me one time because we were out after dark,” Arianna said, “but a brave Kervistan man came forward to save me. I’ll never forget that moment or the courage of the man who stepped forward on my behalf.”
Lisa gave her a big thumbs up, and Kathryn moved close to her daughter and hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe what you went through. You are so brave.”
“You do what you have to do to get the story.”
Next excerpts from the interviews with the two Afghan women played. Their stories were a powerful testament to the poor treatment of women in these countries. Kevin had done a great job of filming them.
The clock was ticking down to the end of the twenty minutes allotted for their segment of the show, and Arianna was anxiously waiting for her interview piece to appear, a piece which would bring her great notoriety and validation as a journalist.
But suddenly footage appeared of the buildings and marketplace in the city of Nabolis. A voice she didn’t recognize talked about women not being allowed out without their husbands and ended with a call for free people of the Western world to do more to help these women, and then the documentary ended.
“What?” Arianna jumped out of her chair. “What was that? That’s not part of our film, and what happened to my interview?” She looked over at Kevin and Harold who both had incredulous looks on their faces. “Someone cut my interview and added material I’ve never seen before. This is unbelievable. Harold, do you know anything about this?”
“No, nothing. Whoever killed your interview and substituted this shit has some explaining to do.” He was out of his seat and pacing the room. “All hell’s going to break loose once I get them on the phone tomorrow.”
Arianna and Kevin sat in stunned silence as the credits rolled. The documentary was well done, and she would get credit for it, but this didn’t blunt the disappointment she felt at having her personal story deleted. Every bit of the interview the producers had taped was missing. Her moment to bask in the spotlight had vanished. It was a disappointing end to what had been the fulfillment of a dream up until that moment.
I still can’t believe it,” Harold said, drumming his fingers on his desk as he waited for a return call from the producers of 60 Minutes. “Someone screwed up big time, and I intend to find out who.”
It was the morning after the airing of the documentary, and the group sat gathered in Harold’s office. They were scheduled to fly to Costa Luna, but everyone wanted answers as to who had killed the interview portion of the film and why.
All of a sudden gunshots rang out, and there was a loud scream from the outer office. The door to Harold’s office burst open and a hooded gunman commenced firing as everyone scrambled for cover. Almost as soon as it started, it stopped, however. Raul stood over the dead body of the gunman. It had been fortunate for the group he had stepped out for a cup of coffee and was able to come up from behind and shoot the masked man before he got off too many shots.
Even so, people had been wounded. Harold lay slumped on his desk. Kevin and Arianna lay on the floor, bleeding from their wounds.
Raul punched in 911 and informed the operator of the shooting and requested immediate medical help. Then, he rushed over to see if Arianna was all right.
“My arm,” she said. “I’ve been shot in the arm.” Holding her bleeding arm, she stumbled h
er way over to where Kevin lay. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head, not speaking and holding his side as blood stained his shirt.
“Hang in there, everyone,” Raul said. “I’ve called 911. Help is on the way.”
In the distance, they could hear the wail of sirens.
“Oh, my God! Harold,” Arianna screamed, looking at him slumped over in his chair. Stumbling to her feet, she moved over to the desk, holding her injured arm. “Harold, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
All she heard were low, painful moans.
“Here, Arianna,” Raul said, pulling up a chair. “Sit down, and wait for the medics.”
Soon the paramedics along with several police officers came streaming into the office. Arianna pointed to Harold. “Help him first,” she said to the EMTs. “I’m okay. And that guy over there. He needs attention, too.”
Another EMS arrived and additional medics began to work on Kevin and Arianna. Harold was the first to be wheeled out. He was still unresponsive, and she feared he might not make it. Kevin was talking and seemed in better shape, but he’d lost a lot of blood.
A paramedic dressed Arianna’s wound to stem the bleeding and started an IV. “You have only a flesh wound, but you’re going to need surgery to repair tissue damage.”
When she was ready for transport, Raul walked alongside her gurney as it left the office. They rolled past the gunman who lay in a pool of blood on the floor, and in the outer office, she saw the covered body of the receptionist who had been killed by the shooter.
“Oh, no. Not Georgia,” Arianna cried. “She has children and grandchildren.” She burst into tears.
“Okay,” Raul said. “Just lie back and try to relax.” Turning toward the medics, he said, “Guys, keep moving. Let’s get her out of here.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she entered the ambulance which took off for the hospital, sirens blaring.
“HOW DO you feel, Arianna?” Kathryn asked. “You’re in the recovery room. The surgery is all over.”