The man examines his guest. "Collect me? That's an interesting choice of words."
"Please forgive me. That was the request, sir."
The man cuts his meat with his fork. "Have some lunch with me, Darren. The lamb is excellent."
His guest does not dare to refuse the invitation, even though he had eaten just a few hours ago. "Thank you. I will have whatever you are having, I am sure that will be fine."
He motions to the waiter standing at point to fulfill the man's needs. "Bring him the same and two martinis dry. So, they have sent you to collect me. Did they send any other message with you?"
"Only that I extend the invitation and return with you immediately without interruption or delay, sir."
The waiter returns and places the drinks in front of the men and the plate of lamb in front of the Englishman.
The man throws his martini down and returns his attention to the lamb. "So be it, we finish lunch, and I will meet you on the plane in about an hour."
His guest is relieved at his acceptance. "Thank you for your graciousness in accepting the invitation." He raises his glass and throws his martini down and begins to eat his lunch.
The man speaks without looking at his guest. "I have but one request, Darren. I would like you to arrange for a woman for me on this journey. I despise long flights."
The guest is relieved again. "I anticipated your needs, and there are two awaiting you on board, sir. They are for your choosing."
The man smiles devilishly. "Delightful, I choose both. It's a long flight."
Fifty-five minutes later a Citation 2 jet lifts off from the private Vancouver jet center, bound for Abu Dhabi.
***
At NSA headquarters in the global electronic monitoring division, a research analyst reviews an e-mail that matches relation to the others for investigation as possible enemy combatant correspondence.
He reads the short content and flags it for distribution to the NSA special investigation unit and the FBI domestic task force, the file contains the following: [email protected] "When the children can laugh. Twelve turns of the glass." The file is sent top priority to the office of NSA Director Jack Hayward as well.
***
At the Denver tech center law office, attorney Matt Cohen is sitting at his desk working on a stack of files when his phone interrupts him, he hits the button on his phone, and says, "This is Matt."
"Matthew, you have Investigator Ray Velazquez from the Denver District Attorney's office on line five."
Matt clicks the button on the phone and picks up the call he has been waiting for. "Hey Ray, how you doing man?"
"Matt, what's going on buddy, you called?"
"For two reasons. The first was to see how you were doing?"
His old investigator says, "Not too good with all this madness going on, it's been a real, unreal trip, Matt."
"I can only imagine, better you than me. Listen Ray, I need a favor. I need a complete background and splash on a female named Adriana Pucci, born February 26, 1982. Colorado native, college graduate Boulder, CDL N69290776. She is five-feet-nine, 118 pounds, brown and brown."
"Sounds like a real looker. That's not bad math on those stats. Is this another one that you're chasing, Matt?"
"This is a professional request for accommodation."
"I'll get it to you as soon as I can. Give me your fax or e-mail where you want it sent."
"Thanks Ray, send it to [email protected]. Or (303) 555-2112."
His friend responds, "Give me a day or two, I'll get you everything I can."
Matt knew he could count on Ray. "Keep your head down when you're out there."
The phone goes dead and Matt returns to work.
In downtown Denver, an FBI employee is waiting for an emergency correspondence at the fax machine regarding warrants for suspected enemy combatants wanted for immediate detainment as a possible conspirator for treason and multiple murders of U.S. and British Citizens. The correspondence prints:
PRIORITY ONE STATUS IMMEDIATE APPREHENSION/SEARCH/SEIZURE ALL INCLUSIVE SUSPECT: DAVID ALLEN BLOOMFIELD DOB 7/07/80 RACE: CAUCASIAN/ SS# 911-33-0971/ CDL: CO6O4320A DESCRIPTION: HT: 6'0" WT: 178 LBS. HR: BROWN/BLACK EYES: BROWN RESIDENCE: 9735 SPEER BLVD SUITE 506 DENVER C0LORADO.
CDL-PHOTO-SEE ATTACHED EMPLOYMENT: NATIONAL AD MEDIA GROUP LLP 1425 YOSEMITE AVE. SUITE 1100 GREENWOOD VILLAGE COLORADO 80010. INVESTIGATION STATUS: SUSPECT BLOOMFIELD REFERRED TO THE BUREAU FOR> TOP PRIORITY STATUS. NSA> REQUEST "OPERATION POT LUCK": EXECUTE IMMEDIATE.BACKGROUND AND CONTACT OUTLINE INVESTIGATION OBSERVATION.
DOJ ORDERED>SEARCH: SEIZURE AND CUSTODY WARRANTS ISSUED (EXECUTE IMMEDIATELY) 14:31 EST. (TODAY) 08/21/11 SUSPECT PRESENTLY IN FLIGHT ORIGINATING SEOUL KOREA ON PRIVATE AIRCRAFT (NTB349SB) EXPECTED ARRIVAL VANCOUVER BRITISH COLUMBIA 22:30 HOURS ANTICIPATE CUSTODY U.S. MARSHALS FIELD TEAM APPREHENSION U.S. BORDER/CANADA ETA 22:30 HOURS 04/21/10 WARRANT DETAIL/FILE TO FOLLOW/ – END CORRESPONDENCE>.
The agent rushes the correspondence to her supervisor.
***
Dana sits down in the bathroom and Moose follows and sits at her feet. She pets her big dog and realizes how much she missed him since she moved in with David. Her cell phone rings and she fishes in the pocket of her sweat pants around her ankles and finds the phone but does not recognize the number. "This is Dana Underwood?"
David's voice erupts with background noise. "Hey Baby."
"David, where are you?"
"I am on a satellite phone on a private jet that Kiatsu provided because they postponed my deal due to all this mess. I'm on my way to Vancouver B.C., and I am going to drive in from there. Where are you?"
Dana smiles at the news. "I'm sitting on the toilet at my dad's house. David I'm so sorry about your deal, but thank God you're getting home. What's it like on the jet?"
"This is the only way to fly, I just finished a three course meal, and I can't wait to get a hold of you."
Dana answers excitedly, "Me too, David, be careful driving."
"I'll see you soon, I'll call you when I'm driving, and I love you."
Dana is giddy. "I love you. Be careful. Bye."
Dana sets the phone on the sink and grabs Moose by the head hugs the big dog, "Everything is going to be all right Moosey. Let's go tell daddy."
Moose licks her with delight at the attention and pushes out the bathroom as Dana flushes.
The NSA monitors Dana's call. The monitor attaches the audio file and finishes typing the conversation verbatim. And sends the following message in the file,
PRIORITY SUSPECT IMMEDIATE ARREST/SEARCH/SEIZURE ALL/: DANA MARIE UNDERWOOD – REF: INVESTIGATION: DAVID ALLEN BLOOMFIELD/DENVER FBI FIELD OFFICE: ARREST AND SEARCH/SEIZURE WARRANTS: IMMEDIATE ARREST AND DETAIN. OPERATION POT LUCK POSSIBLE CO-CONSPIRATOR FOR TREASON, TERRORISM, AND MULTIPLE COUNTS OF MURDER OF U.S. AND BRITISH CITIZENS. SUSPECT/POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE-DESCRIPTION AS FOLLOWS: FEMALE DOB: 2/27/83 HT: 5'7" WT: 115 EYE'S: BLU HAIR: BLND KNOWN ADDRESSES: 23475 SOUTH UNIVERSITY BLVD. 80235 (FATHER RICHARD UNDERWOOD) (RELATED SUSPECT DAVID BLOOMFIELD RESIDENCE) SUSPECT/ ACCOMPLICE #-2 – 9735 SPEER BLVD SUITE 706 DENVER COLORADO 80235 EMPLOYMENT: COLORADO COMMERCIAL REAL ESTATE BROKER.
COLORADO COMMERCIAL PROPERTIES LLC 9942 CHAMPA STREET SUITE 100 DENVER COLORADO 80010 END CORRESPONDENCE.
***
The FBI emergency response team (ERT)—all in black—hits David Bloomfield's downtown condominium forty-six minutes later. The lobby of the building is secured, as well as his condominium unit on the fifth floor.
Special Agents Taylor and Davenport are heading the investigation of David Bloomfield and his fiancé, Dana Underwood.
Davenport is searching the walk-in closet and says to her partner, "This girl has some nice clothes, and a shoe collection that matches Imelda Marcos's. She certainly has great taste."
Taylor replies, "Leslie, we're here to collect evidence, not critique the suspect's fashion sense, let's keep it focused."
Davenport holds up an empt
y gun case and an empty ammo box of 45 caliber shells. "Is this focused enough?"
Taylor pulls an evidence bag from his jacket pocket and Davenport drops the evidence in. "Did the background show any carry permits on Bloomfield?"
"I don't think this is Bloomfield's." He looks at his partner. "And why is that?"
She smiles and holds up the gun case. "Because of this here. There is an engraved message, right here on the leather case."
Agent Taylor turns over the bag and reads the inscription. "For my Baby Girl."
The FBI emergency response team seals the condominium with federal evidence tape and leaves with boxes of evidence and David's computer. They head to the offices of National Ad Media Group in the Denver tech center eight miles away.
The FBI team leaves the office of National Ad Media Group as a security guard watches them cart off evidence boxes and computers from David's office. The team heads to Dana's offices to do the same. It has been three and a half hours since the FBI received notification of the warrants.
Taylor and Davenport are disappointed that they have found nothing so far to aid in their case against their suspects, Bloomfield and Underwood.
The FBI team arrives at Dana's building. They are met by the security guard at the door.
Special Agent Taylor comments, "I don't think we are on the right track here, I think that someone is grabbing at straws on this one."
Davenport answers, "It all could be in computer forensics, Mike. We don't know yet."
The guard opens the door as Taylor shakes his head. "I'm telling you, this is so far from the profile that we might as well be in the Yukon looking for palm trees."
Thirty-five minutes later, the FBI team leaves the building with little evidence and gathers in the cold night air in the parking lot.
Special Agent Davenport says, "We will hit the Underwood residence next. Let's keep in mind that this is an affluent estate community and the suspect's father's residence. We have no intelligence as to how many occupants are present, and this will be a soft knock and announce entry, there may be dogs on the premises. There is a security gate at the property entry that we will disable for our approach, ERT, that's your job to get us in quietly."
The team all piles into their vehicles. An hour later, David wakes to the screech of the jet plane's tires.
The Kiatsu jet touches down in Vancouver, British Columbia. The attendant tells him that he was sleeping deeply as they approached and would not respond to her trying to wake him. He goes into the restroom and returns to his large leather seat as the plane taxies. The attendant hands him a hot towel on a silver tray to wipe his face.
David departs the plane and there are four men awaiting him as he descends the stairs. The men immediately take him into custody and escort him into the customs area. They announce that he is under arrest and of his immediate transfer of custody to the United States Marshall's Service. One of the marshall's handcuffs him as the other searches his bags and then places them into an evidence bag.
David yells, "What the hell is going on? Are you people, nuts?"
The marshall answers him, "Mr. Bloomfield, you are being detained under the Patriot Act statutes of the United States of America, with the cooperation of the Canadian government under our treaty with them." David looks at the marshall wondering what the hell is happening as he speaks.
"David Bloomfield, while in the custody of the U.S. Marshall's service, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to have an attorney present during questioning, if you give up that right anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney appointed by the government, if you cannot afford one. Mr. Bloomfield, do you understand these rights I have explained to you?"
David looks at the men in the room and realizes by their expression that this is no joke. "I understand. Can I call an attorney?"
The marshall answers him, "That will be determined by the FBI once you are in their custody in U.S. territory. Let's go Mr. Bloomfield."
The men walk him down a corridor and back outside to a waiting unmarked small jet aircraft, a man appears in the doorway wearing a JPAT cap and helps the marshall with David as the other signs off with the Canadian official.
David looks at the man with the JPAT hat as he searches him again then places his legs in shackles as well.
"What does JPAT stand for?"
The man looks at him as he rises from securing him. "Justice Prisoners Air Transport. Now, that is the last question you get on this flight. Listen up. Keep your mouth shut unless you're dying or having a major medical problem. We are not supposed to judge our prisoners, but my nineteen-year-old daughter is dead. She just got gassed on the 'L' in Chicago, and everything about your status tells me that you may have something to do with it, so shut your mouth and we might make it to where you are going without incident."
The marshall behind the man chimes in, "I think that about covers the politics for this journey."
The JPAT agent retreats to the back of the plane and takes a seat.
The plane lifts off. David is confused and frightened by what is going on. He knows he has done nothing. He wonders if the whole world has just gone insane.
He has never been arrested other than a spring break incident with his friend Matt Cohen while they were in college. He needs to get a hold of Matt as soon as he can.
The marshals are eerily quiet as the plane levels off and David asks the one across from him for the time. The marshall does not respond and David's fear that any rights he may have had are gone. His fear is now validated, quietly in his mind.
***
In the upscale suburb of Cherry Creek, the FBI team works quietly on the private security gate at Richard Underwood's home. The area is dark other than the other private residents' exterior lighting. There are two lights on in the Underwood residence.
The team sets the gate aside and the radio in Special Agent Taylor's hand squawks, "Barrier breached, you call the ball."
Taylor responds, "Roger that, now verifying suspect one, in Marshall's custody. Stand by."
Taylor dials a number on his cell phone. "This is Special Agent Taylor; do we have Marshall's confirmation of David Bloomfield being in custody yet?" He disconnects as he gets confirmation and raises his radio. "It's a go. The ball is rolling."
The ERT team slides into the darkness around the Underwood house as Taylor and Davenport pull up the driveway with their headlights off and approach the door as the team is set.
Inside, Dana is asleep with Moose in her bedroom upstairs and her dad is watching Fox news in the den with Sassy.
Sassy jumps up next to Richard Underwood and growls, putting him on alert, and then there is a knock at the door and a doorbell chime at the same time. Moose rushes out of the bedroom door and barks wildly as Sassy rushes the front door with Richard Underwood as the FBI announces their presence from outside. "FBI search warrant, open the door."
Richard Underwood gives commands to the dogs and they lie down in the foyer. Dana, half asleep, emerges at the top of the stairs looking down to the entry as her dad opens the front door to the blue jackets of the FBI agents.
"Yes? What is it?"
Agent Davenport speaks first. "Richard Underwood, we have an arrest warrant for Dana Marie Underwood, and a search warrant for this property."
He looks at them shocked as Davenport hands him the search warrant and moves into his foyer entry with Taylor and two team members; the giant dogs are alert in their standing position and begin to growl.
One team member points to his weapon as he stops. "Can you place the dogs in a secure room, sir?"
Richard Underwood complies as he looks up at this daughter on the stairs.
Davenport moves up the stairs to place Dana in custody. She is still half-asleep and terrified by the FBI intrusion at her father's home.
Richard Underwood is angered, "What the hell is this about?"
Taylor responds, "Sir, we need to speak with your daughte
r. She has not been charged with anything yet but is being detained for questioning at his time."
Dana is handcuffed, then led into her bedroom by the female agent. She surrenders her purse and bag to agent Davenport who finds her gun loaded in her bag and announces, "Suspect weapon secure."
Richard Underwood and agent Taylor look up as Davenport announces, "Now wait a damn minute here. What the hell is this all about?"
The other team members announce clear from each room as they methodically move throughout the Underwood home.
Dana says to the female agent, "What did I do, is this something about work?"
The agent answers, "You will find that all out when we get to our offices, Miss Underwood. You should change into some comfortable street clothes."
The agent removes the handcuffs while Dana grabs some sweat pants, her bra, and a sweatshirt and quickly dresses. Agent Davenport places the cuffs back on her.
Dana begins to cry. Special Agent Davenport leads Dana down the stairs.
"What's going on? Daddy, what's happening?"
Richard Underwood moves toward his daughter and agent Taylor stops him. "Mr. Underwood, please do not move so quickly."
He looks at the FBI agent with the glare only a father has. "Get your fucking hands off of me. I have served and fought for this country and pay more annual taxes than all of your salaries combined, and have done so longer than you have been alive."
The agent removes his restraint. Dana is led out of the house to the car.
Dana yells to her father, "Daddy, call Matthew and tell him what's happening."
Underwood watches as the FBI team leaves with his daughter and notices the team replacing his gate at the bottom of the driveway. As he closes the door, he hears the dogs whining in the laundry room and lets them out. Moose searches for Dana and returns looking to him as he reads the warrant, one phrase stands out: "UNDER THE UNITED STATES PATRIOT ACT STATUTES." He goes into his den to look up Matthew Cohen's phone number, and makes the call.
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