The Iscariot Factor (Half Staff Book 2)

by Rick Mitchell

  When their plane landed at Hurlburt Field, Pat gave Ron an hour to meet with his wife to discuss their new assignment. They also returned to Hurlburt Field to pick up Senior Airman Kenneth Waits who was still stationed with the 16th Special Operations Group.

  They met with Kenny in the office of Colonel Dyerson, the commander of the 16th Ops group. When seeking out Waits, Pat was told the Ops Commander had Airman Waits in his office.

  Pat left Agent Emily Watts in a lounge area just outside the Colonel’s office. Kenny stood up when he saw Pat and shook hands with him. For a moment Pat thought the boy was going to hug him; he was ready for either.

  The Colonel spoke first, “Agent Drice, I don’t know if you recall, but we’ve spoken once before. It was when you were hastily enlisted as a Colonel in our Air Force,” the Colonel said, with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

  Pat looked at the Colonel, asked if he could be seated, and answered, “Colonel, first, the President sends his best regards. The mission you’re speaking of served both our country and the Air Force proudly.”

  “I agree with you up to a point but now I understand you are parading around as a CIA spook. At least this is what the Pentagon told me when I got a call about Major Collins and Senior Airman Waits,” the Colonel said with the same tone as earlier.

  “Colonel, if I understand my new position correctly, I am a head CIA spook. Colonel, may I ask you what the Pentagon shared with you about my visit?” Pat asked while looking squarely into the Colonels eyes.

  The Colonel responded sharply, “Whatever was or wasn’t shared, I ordered Airman Waits brought to my office until I could straighten this crap out. I need to get a common sense response from my chain of command; I don’t answer to the CIA.”

  Pat turned in his chair and made a hand motion to Agent Watts, who immediately placed a cell phone call. Less than thirty seconds later, Agent Watts knocked on the Colonel’s door, stepped inside, and handed the cell phone to Pat.

  Pat without speaking to the caller, reached over the Colonel’s desk, and handed the phone to him. “Colonel, I believe this call is for you. It’s somebody in the chain of command you just spoke of.”

  He could see the color drain out of the Colonel’s face as he found himself speaking with his Commander-in-Chief. While looking down at his desk, all the Colonel could voice in the short conversation was a couple of Yes-Sir’s and No-Sir’s. With the one-sided conversation over, the Colonel handed the cellphone to Pat, “Deputy Drice, he asked to speak with you.”

  Pat reassured the President that everything was going according to plan. He thanked the President for taking his call and told him he would try and not bother him again. When he disconnected, Pat handed the cell back to Agent Watts, and looked over to the Colonel.

  The Colonel speaking to Pat, “Deputy Drice, I want to apologize to you. Please feel free to use my office to speak with Airman Waits as I had already planned on taking an early lunch. Can I call ahead to the Commander at Joint Base Charleston, letting him know that you are headed in his direction to speak with Major Collins?”

  “Colonel, that won’t be necessary, Major Collins is already with us. He is at home speaking with his wife about his new duty assignment. But I will take you up on the offer of your office. You can expect us out of your hair in a little more than an hour. Is that alright with you Colonel Dyerson?”

  “Perfectly alright, Director Drice,” the Colonel looked at Airman Waits, “Son, good luck to you. I know that whatever you do in life, you will achieve greatness. You have already proven that back in Louisiana that day.”

  Kenneth Waits came to attention and saluted the Colonel. After Colonel Dyerson returned the salute, he reached over and padded the Airman on the shoulder, then exited past the group.

  Kenny Waits looked over to Pat, “Can you please tell me what in the heck is going on? And what’s this stuff about the CIA?”

  Pat exhaled the breath he had been holding and answered his new operative, “Kenny, do you remember back in Landover when we did the repeat after me thing?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Once SSgt Kevin Sands made it across the road, his gaze was beamed on the two men in the Tahoe. He reached into the rear of his jacket and pulled out the large semi-automatic and pointed it at the two men as he approached. Trained to read opponents expressions, Kevin was surprised at what he didn’t see; fear. Both men raised their arms, opening their hands to show Kevin they were unarmed. Kevin approached the vehicle and slid into the backseat behind the passenger. He was still holding the pistol at the ready.

  Kevin spoke first; with authority, “You can lower your arms just enough as not to look like idiots to anyone who passes by. Driver, yours will be placed at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel. Mr. Big Man, you can lean forward a little and place yours on the dash. Do we understand one another?”

  The large man spoke “We do.”

  “Let’s get the elephant in the room out-of-the-way. Are either of you gentleman armed? And guys, be careful lying to me.”

  Again the large man spoke. “No Kevin, we’re not armed.”

  “I am not sure you know we well enough to call me Kevin. Next question, are there any weapons in this car?”

  “We are not gun people,” the driver replied.

  Kevin lowered his pistol, but kept it at the ready, “I take it that you’re not cops. Who the hell are you, and why are you following me?”

  “Staff Sergeant Sands,” the big man said, “We are here to help you and in turn we are going to ask you to help us. Can we go someplace and talk for a few minutes? We know what we have to share will be of keen interest to you.”

  Kevin had the men drive to an empty youth baseball field a few miles south of town. At this location there would be less chance of witnesses if the meeting got out of hand. Kevin seated himself on a higher set of bleachers to gain for position advantage. He told them it was now time to come clean.

  The larger of the two men speaking, “Sergeant Sands, my name is Matthew, and this is John. “First, I wasn’t lying when I told you we are here to help you. We represent a group of individuals whose single goal is to make sure the United States remains strong. That America is not weakened by those intent on making us just another soulless plot of land.”

  Kevin smiled for the first time, “Got it; you are a couple of extremist. How does this help me in anyway?”

  John spoke again, “Kevin, we aren’t extremist. Our mission is to push the re-set button when all around us goes to pot. Back in Iran you have been quite busy pushing a few re-set buttons yourself.”

  Kevin couldn’t hold back the expression of shock on his face when he heard these words, “Explain”

  Matthew taking over the conversation, “What he meant to say, and certainly could have said it better, was that we are aware of your late night excursions. We applaud what you are doing and as part of our group we can assist you in this noble cause. And we can make what is about to happen to you disappear.”

  “And what has happening to me?”

  “I am sorry to tell you that the Army investigators have found the evidence needed to tie you to the killings in Iran. Our informants tell us they are waiting for your return to charge you in these deaths.”

  Kevin stood and began to pace back and forth, arms flailing about as he was still holding the pistol. John and Matthew were looking at each other; rightfully questioning what this young soldier might do.

  Matthew speaking, “Kevin, listen to me; it is going to be alright. This is why we are here today; we came to provide you a way out.”

  Kevin stopped, and looked at the two men, “I tried to tell them. I tried to tell them all that I had a sixth sense, but even Donnie wouldn’t listen.”

  “If you are speaking of Donnie Givens, we hate to have to tell you this, but your spotter is the prosecutions main witness against you. But let’s start discussing your future, not your past. Kevin, you can have a great future as a member of our team.” John said.

&nbs
p; Kevin sat on the lower bleacher and put his face into his hands. The Colt slid through his fingers and fell to the ground beneath him. Matthew walked over and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. He made no attempt to reach for the weapon, now within easy reach of him.

  “Kevin what do you say we go somewhere to get lunch? We can discuss how we can use your God-given talents to make our country stronger,” Matthew said. “John, how about it, you ready to go get something to eat with us?”

  “Yeah, I could eat a horse; my Treat,” John replied.

  -----

  The twins, as the NSA Director had described them, were not biological siblings. Both men came from as far from each other on the economic scale as one could get. Bradley Wilson, the younger of the two, came from a lower middle class home in Warren Michigan.

  At the age of six his father left for work one day never to return. The automotive plant where his father worked had been in turmoil over an upcoming union vote at the time of his disappearance. The police investigated but soon came to the conclusion his father had deserted his family. Years later, his mother would hire a private investigator, only to find no trace of him after that day.

  Brad, as called by his family, floundered for a while then took an interest in computers after Lincoln Middle School opened a computer sciences lab. He had a natural gift when it came to computers and it wasn’t long before he was writing binary code of his own.

  One of his teachers, Laurence Beaks, was so impressed with Brad’s computer skills; he lent the young man one of his personal laptops to take home. Days later, Brad took the laptop back to Mr. Beaks asking if it would be alright if he performed some needed upgrades on it. The teacher told Bradley to consider the computer his own.

  Brad, being the youngest, had two sisters at home. His mother worked two jobs to keep food on the table and clothes on her kids. One Saturday morning they were awakened by someone knocking on the door. Standing just behind his mother, Brad saw cameras, people holding flowers, and a big cardboard sign. His mother had just won a Publisher’s Clearing House million dollar prize.

  To this day his mother tells people that she doesn’t even remember sending in the entry form; that it had to be one of those God things. Brad would smile every time he heard her repeat this.

  They moved from the apartment building in Warren to a modest home only a few miles away. Brad was excelling in school and computers continued to be his main passion. The old laptop was soon replaced with top of the line towers and monitors.

  Five years later Brad Wilson’s name would pop up during an NSA computer hacking investigation. It all came crashing down around him when he chose to give his oldest sister a late wedding present. Two immediate family members winning the Publishers Clearing House Grand Prize began setting off alarms, and led the government into looking deeper into Brad’s favorite pastime.

  In an agreement with the government, Publishers was refunded their prize money. The money followed an agreement that no charges would be brought against Brad, or his family. Publishers Clearing House not wanting the negative publicity was happy with the government’s terms.

  NSA agents, impersonating FBI agents, met with Brad and his mother to discuss the fraud. By the end of the meeting they had worked a plan to keep Brad out of the federal prison system, and the family from having to repay the winnings.

  Brad, now seventeen, was in his last year of high school. Under the agreement he would finish high school and then become a paid intern for a federal agency. During his internship the government would agree to enroll Bradley in a college degree program, in a vocation of his choice. What the family did not know was that Brad’s vocation had already been chosen for him. Mr. Wilson was going to become a NSA computer analyst.

  Twin number two was Coleman G. Lancing III. Raised in Connecticut, Cole was the only child of C. Lancing II, the owner of CGL Capital in New Haven. Cole’s mother, who his father had divorced years earlier, had moved back to Rhode Island soon after the divorce. Each parent wanting to prove that they were the more loving fought for single custody. It was Cole’s father who won the prolonged and costly court battle. Cole, already spending ten months of the year at the Chester Boarding school in Milford, didn’t really care either way.

  Cole, fully against his father’s wishes, applied after graduation to Massachusetts Institute of Technology. At MIT, Cole excelled in the Science, Technology, and Society, programs. A year before earning his degree, Cole was being vetted by both the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency. As aggressive a process as the NFL draft; the agencies battled hard for the recruits they wanted. In Cole Lancing’s case it was the NSA who won the day.

  Taking up a full floor of a non-descript building outside of Baltimore, new recruits are placed in an area known as the Pitt. Resembling a major newspaper office, small work stations were positioned within a few feet of the next. For the first few weeks recruits were given menial tasks to measure their abilities.

  During the six month training program the recruits also were run through psychological testing to ensure they could perform in a high stress environment.

  The training centered was fully wired, enabling the instructors to gather intelligence on each recruit 24/7. Recruits were required to live on complex until promoted to analyst status. Each repeatedly warned, throughout the training period, not to share information with other recruits on the work they were doing.

  The instructors would test this warning on recruits, using portions of NSA unclassified files. Provided limited database access the students would complete an analysis report using this information. It was one of these reports that brought the twins together for the first time.

  Reusing the same training reports for years, the NSA instructors often placed bets on how close each analysis would be in comparison to previous year’s classes. Seldom would they see an individual break out of the obvious, cloned, boring, mold.

  Recruits Wilson and Lancing had been provided with different analysis reports. Bradley Wilson’s report concerned captured MSAT satellite transmissions originating from a possible Middle East terror cell. Cole Lancing’s report discussed intelligence and safety protocols for the Poland Olympic Winter Games.

  Once a training analysis was completed, Instructors, Psychologists, Cryptologist, and a Deputy Director, would dissect the recruit’s analysis. Together, they would grade the recruit’s competence. Did the recruit use all available information provided to them? If so, did they use this information to its fullest conclusion? Did they miss critical opportunities within the information given that caused them to offer incomplete, or worse, incorrect analysis.

  In a class of one hundred, forty would fail to live up to the NSA recruiter’s hype and would be washed out. The remaining fifty-nine would move into one of the separate divisions within the NSA. These Directorates are designated by single letters, which include F, G, I, J, L, M, Q, R, S, and T.

  Each recruit being assigned a Directorate which best matched their abilities. A handful sent to Cyber Command, which falls under the jurisdiction of (DIRNSA) Director of the National Security Agency.

  This left them with a one-percent probability they might uncover a recruit who could break out of the status quo. One who would be physiologically and emotional solid, brilliantly intuitive, and relentlessly curious. Never once would they have dreamed they would find matching bookends.

  During competency testing the group evaluated reports comprised by recruits Wilson and Lansing. Similarities between the two reports styles raised a red flag. Some patterns of speech, and like phrasing, can be common among generations of similar influences. Students who studied in the northern United States were predominately more liberal than those from the southern regions. Phrasing would also often match the current language traits of the day.

  Wilson and Lansing had no like situational influences, but in every testing category they appeared almost one in mind. Shockingly, the path in which each recruit applied to their analysis w
as almost identical. And while the final analysis matched their own provided materials, the conclusions in both had cross-match into twilight zone territory. The Instructors first assumed that they had colluded in some manner. After going through all available intelligence data from the class, they found no link between the two men.

  NSA Director Sessions was meeting with Hank Legions, his Deputy Director of Information Assurance, when he first heard about the recruits evaluations. He questioned Deputy Legions, and was told they planned on reevaluating the two with virgin reports.

  Director Sessions intrigued, told his Deputy to provide the two recruits with identical classified intelligence reports from the field. He also wanted each man to have full access to the NSA database.

  Director Sessions gave his Deputy a window of twenty-four hours to set up the test. The recruits would be given six hours to gain what they could from the report. He also wanted both men in the same room during testing.

  Director Sessions requested he be the first notified when testing was completed. He wanted first eyes on the reports before being evaluated by the team. After Legions confirmed the Director wanted the two recruits to have raw active intelligence, he walked away wondering just how he had gotten himself into this mess. There would be egg on his face if the two were light-years away from the other in their second analyses?

  Director Sessions was looking over the reports for the third time in nine hours. The other Director’s set quietly trying to read their bosses facial expressions. Director Sessions stopped reading and set the papers down on his desk.

  He shook his head and spoke to Director Legions, “Hank, I would like you to have someone escort Lansing and Wilson in here please; I need to have a word with them.”

  “I thought that you might want to speak with them; I have them waiting in the reception area. Would you like to see them now?”

  “I would.” Looking up at the others in the room, he asked that if they would excuse them for a moment. The other directors stood and quickly exited the room.