Disruption: A River Of Secrets And Betrayal

by J. B. Jamison

  "Ok, then,” Grandpa said. “I'll get us a couple of drinks, and we'll talk."

  Ronnie watched as his grandfather ordered the drinks, pausing long enough to tell one of his stories. He wondered which story it was until he saw the barista throw his head back in laughter and shout, “It was the peanut!”. That was one of Ronnie's favorites. Really dumb, but a good one. As he walked back to the table, grandpa glanced at the receipt stuck on the side of his glass, placed a cup in front of his grandson, and sat down.

  "Iced mocha, right? That's what you like?"

  "Absolutely! Looks great grandpa."

  They enjoyed a sip or two as the older man's eyes focused on his grandson.

  "Ronnie, what I am about to tell you must never be repeated; until the day you will choose the one person you have decided will be your learner. Do you understand?"

  "Sure grandpa. Is that what I am? Your learner? What is that...like an apprentice or something?"

  "Something like that, yes. One of our responsibilities is to ensure the continuance of the roles; and to do that, we must find someone who is capable of continuing the work when we are no longer able to do so."

  "So you are stopping doing this?"

  "Oh no, nothing like that, at least for a while. It will take some time for you to learn what you need to learn, but my hope is that when I do step aside, you will be ready to take my place. Nothing could make me happier, or prouder."

  "I'll do my best."

  "I know you will, and that's why I selected you. Tell me, what do you know about the existence of secret organizations throughout history?"

  "Secret? You mean like the, uh, Illuminati? Things like that? Is that it? Are you in the Illuminati?"

  The old man grinned.

  "Illuminati? Ah yes, ok, well, that's the general idea. But no, I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about something quite different; something real."

  "Ok, well what's that group at the schools? The Skull and Bones, and things like the Masons, though they aren't really secret, I guess."

  "Ok, you have the view that most people have. That's what I would expect. But no, I'm not talking about any of those groups or a group that operates like that type of group, real or imaginary."

  "What's the name of this group, let's see if I've heard about it."

  "You see Ronnie, that's part of the difference. There is no name."

  "Then...?"

  "You went to Sunday School. Do you remember that story of the time Moses met God, and Moses asked what God's name was?"

  "Yeah, kind of."

  "Moses was told that God didn't have a name, but that Moses could just refer to him by some letters. Did you ever wonder why God did that?"

  "Um, I don't think so."

  "When you know someone's name, you have a certain amount of control over them. Like in here even, if I know that the barista’s name is 'Bob,' I could yell, 'Hey Bob!', and he would probably look up from what he is doing to see who was calling him. I have some control over him, even though it’s just a little bit."

  "Yeah."

  "God wasn't going to allow Moses or anyone else to have any control. The whole idea of being God is that God is in control. If Moses knew God's name, well, that was a problem."

  "Then we're talking about god?"

  "No, we're talking about control. If our group had a name, and someone knew that name, they would have some level of control over us. They would have the ability to identify us as a group. And the most important thing about our group is that no one controls us, no one even knows that we exist unless we select them as a learner. We do not exist. But, we are here."

  "Ok, but…"

  "Hang on. You mentioned the Illuminati and a few others. Just the fact that you know their names limits what they are able to be and do. It gives you the ability to ask me if I am a member, which means I risk being found out, which means the entire group risks being uncovered. If there is a name, there must be a thing. If there is no name, there may or may not be a thing."

  "Well, then why did all of those, so called secret organizations, create names for themselves?"

  "Because we wanted them to be seen, and talked about."

  "You? You named them?"

  "We created them to be distractions, so yes, we named them so they would be found."

  "Distractions?"

  "Ronnie, that's what we do. Our role as a group is to create distractions and disruptions when they need to be created. That was how we started a long time ago, and its what we've done ever since."

  Silence.

  "I can see I've lost you. If I recall sitting and listening to this when I became a learner for my grandfather, this is the point where I was finally convinced the old guy had lost his mind. It wasn't a secret group he was asking me to join; it was senility. Is that about right?"

  "Well, the thought had crossed my mind to be quite honest. I mean..."

  "Believe me, I understand. Well, I'm as sane as I've ever been. Which your grandmother always thought was questionable anyway."

  Smiles and laughter.

  "Ok, then what..."

  "Hold on, you'll have lots of questions, and we'll take as much time as we need to see that they are all answered."

  "It’s just a lot to understand. I am joining a group that has been around for a long time, but that isn't real."

  "Oh Ronnie, we are very real. We just don't exist. For now, just remember this, we are here to create distraction and disruption; nothing more and nothing less. We create those two things to keep any one person or group from becoming so powerful that they become a threat to the existence of humanity as a whole. We have no allegiance to any one group, or nation, or religion or thought, other than to our role. Our responsibility is to humanity: to every man, woman or child of every race, ethnicity, creed and country, who deserves the opportunity to live a life free of hunger and persecution. It may sound flowery and fanciful, but we are the only group who has that role; who carries that burden. And because of that, we cannot allow anyone to interfere with our work. And as I said earlier, sometimes that work means we have to do some very difficult things; things that, in the short view, may appear to be terrible. But they are necessary for us to succeed in the long term. For humanity to survive, we must succeed, and we must remain invisible and unknown. Do you understand?"

  "I understand."

  "Are you still willing to accept the role and the secrecy?"

  "Yes, I've told you..."

  "Good, let me get us one more drink and then we'll call it a day. We can talk more tomorrow."

  "Thanks, grandpa, but I think I've had enough. If I have more caffeine, I'll be wired all day."

  "Just one more, that's all. A small one." The older man walked to the counter, told another story, and returned with two small cups.

  "Drink." It came out more as an order than a suggestion.

  "Before we go, can I ask one more question?" the grandson asked.

  "Of course."

  "How has it been kept secret? Over all this time, hasn't anyone ever, you know, told others about the group? Especially if it gets as hard as you said it might."

  "It has happened. But since we are very careful in selecting our learners, it has been quite rare."

  "But what happens? How do you keep from being found?"

  "Finish your drink; all of it. Drink it right down now." He reached across the table, picked up the cup and put it in his grandson's hand.

  "Ok, ok. I'll drink."

  "As I said, our relationship has changed. You now carry a secret that must be protected. Since you are my learner, I carry the responsibility to ensure that you understand, and follow the role."

  "Yes, but..."

  "Listen. We have learned that the time of greatest risk is when a learner is first told about the group. On occasion, the group member has misjudged their learner, and after he or she learns the truth, they decide they cannot continue. As a result, they carry the secret of the group without also carrying the commitment
to the group. That is a risk that we cannot take."

  It felt as though someone had just poured ice water down his back, "There was something in my drink wasn't there? That's why you made me drink it. That's why...grandpa, what’s in this drink?"

  "The second drink is the antidote; you can relax."

  "Antidote?" He sat up in his chair, feeling his fists clench. "What did you do to me?"

  "Ronnie, I told you our relationship would be changed. We have to be certain that a potential learner does not refuse the role after learning the story; the risk is far too great. So, the first drink included a simple compound, untraceable, that is designed to become active within three hours if the antidote is not given."

  "What would have happened without the antidote? What would have happened to me?"

  "It would have been painless. It would have been diagnosed as a simple stroke. You should not have suffered any physical injury, only a disruption of your cognitive processes relating to short term memory. You would still be you. You would lead a life much like before. There would simply be a gap. A hole that consisted of the past hour of our conversation. Only in a few very rare instances has it resulted in anything more serious."

  "What more serious? Death?" the younger man asked.

  "Rarely. I'll see you in the morning." The older man touched his grandson's shoulder as he passed on his way to the door.

  The young man sat staring into his now-empty cup, thinking about the man who had helped him survive his childhood, who had helped create his philosophy of life, who made him laugh and shake his head at dumb stories, and who had now almost murdered him.

  Chapter 48

  "All right people, somebody has been talking," Dasilva was not happy. The morning briefing was small, as Dasilva had excused all but the leaders of the various groups. "The media knows that Grammercy was some kind of dirty bomb. They also somehow know about the devices under the other bridges around New Orleans. They don't seem to know anything about how they got there, or that there may be more, yet. But somebody is clearly talking, and I want to know who it is."

  The eyes around the table gave him two messages at the same time. The first was that no one around this table had violated confidentiality. The second message was that none of them liked being accused of that kind of behavior.

  "I can tell you it sure as hell didn't come from any of my team!" Said by everyone around the table.

  "Well, it’s coming from somewhere, and it has to be stopped," Dasilva said.

  It was quiet for a few minutes.

  "Ok, look, I'm sorry." Dasilva started over. "I know none of you did this, and you know your teams better than I do. But this has really stirred things up. We were already under massive pressure to reopen the river and bridges, and while this helps explain why we haven't done that, it has created an entirely new bunch of problems. I mean, we just found out which boat is involved, and somebody told the media. This has brought out the crazies who want to see things for themselves. We’ve got crowds gathering all along the river to watch the boat go by. People are out in their fishing boats trying to get close and follow them. We even caught three guys in scuba gear trying to get to the device under the Sunshine Bridge to get pictures of themselves swimming next to the thing. We've had to call in the National Guard to try and keep things under control."

  "We've tightened NRC security as well," Colonel Goodwin said, "I think we have it under control for now."

  "The Corps has done the same thing," Colonel Nichols said.

  "Good," Dasilva nodded. "We have more Guard standing by if you need them."

  Dasilva looked at his notes, then at the group.

  "Please just talk with your people again, and remind them of how important it is to keep things quiet right now. And I'm going to have to stop us there for now. I have to go meet with some media people to see if we can keep the lid from coming off any further."

  "Agent Dasilva," Reyes from the ARG said, "could I have a moment before you go, sir?"

  "I'm sorry Commander, I really don't have time right now. It will have to wait till later." Dasilva said as he walked from the room.

  "Yes sir," Reyes said as he closed the video file on his tablet.

  Chapter 49

  "We'd probably better get going; he should be there by now." Emily looked out the window as she put her phone in her pocket. The flight had been quick, and Loren was waiting to meet them with the car. Loren Erickson was Special Agent in Charge of the Louisville office. Lennie had contacted her, partly out of professional courtesy, and partly because they really didn't know what they were walking into, and in those situations sometimes three could be better than two. Plus, if there was follow-on work to be done, it was wiser to leave that to the people who knew the area.

  It was early when they reached the East Market District, so Loren suggested a little coffee and tea shop a block away from the Arbel offices. They had spent the time filling Agent Erickson in on the basics of the situation and getting more details from her about Arbel. He was well-known in the city, and Loren agreed with Emily's belief that he was most likely not involved in what is happening; at least not willingly.

  Morning traffic was picking up, so they decided to leave the car where it was and walk to the meeting. It was not a fancy building. It sat in the middle of flat, square factories and warehouses. It had a certain charm about it, though, with two stories of dark painted brick, awnings over each window, and a windowed, wooden doorway straight from the eighteen-hundreds. It might not be fancy, but as Emily walked in, she was even more convinced that this Arbel guy did take personal pride in his company and wasn't likely going to take chances of throwing it away.

  Emily told the receptionist they would like to see Mr. Arbel. The young woman showed a professional smile and asked if they had an appointment. Emily offered her business card and the well-rehearsed smile changed to something unrehearsed. She stepped from the room saying something about finding out if Mr. Arbel was available.

  He was.

  As the three entered his office, Arbel was standing behind his desk holding Emily's card. "How may I help you folks? It’s not every morning I get a visit from the FBI, let alone three of them." His smile seemed to be genuine.

  Emily made introductions.

  "New Orleans!" Arbel said. "Now I really am surprised. What can I do for you? And, please, sit down."

  "Thank you. Mr. Arbel, we need to ask you about one of your boats, to see what..."

  "A boat? Which boat? Is there a problem?"

  "That's what we're here to find out Mr. Arbel. The boat is the Francis B."

  "The Francis B? Yes, that's one of our boats. And please, call me Gil; everyone does."

  "Thank you, sir. What we need to know is if there has been anything unusual about the actions of the Francis B. over the past few days. Anything you might be able to tell us could be helpful."

  "Unusual? About the Francis B? Not that I know of. I'm sure I would have been told if...besides, I look at the fleet reports the first and last thing every day, so if there was anything, uh, unusual as you say, I would know about it."

  "Yes, sir. But if you could..."

  "Just what is this about anyway?" Arbel leaned back in his chair.

  "Mr. Arbel, Gil, are you familiar with the incident this week at the Grammercy Bridge near New Orleans?"

  "Yes, the explosion? Just what I've heard from the news. And I'm familiar enough to know that shutting the river is costing us money. What about it?"

  "Sir, we have reason to believe that the Francis B. may be involved in that incident. In fact, we believe..."

  "Nonsense. There must be some kind of mistake. How could my boat be involved in an explosion? Are you suggesting it struck a line or something? Is that what this is about?"

  "No sir, that's not why we are here. And I'm afraid..."

  "I think you need to speak with my attorney if..."

  Emily glanced at Lennie, who nodded his head.

  "Mr. Arbel, this is not about a
lawsuit. Sir, what I am going to tell you must stay in this office. You must tell no one about this information, do you understand?"

  "Ok, yes, I understand."

  Over the next five minutes, Emily and Lennie explained the reality behind the media’s story of the explosion, and the fact that similar devices had now been confirmed under every bridge from New Orleans to Natchez.

  "My God, is this for real?"

  "Yes sir, I'm afraid it is very real."

  "But I don't understand. What does the Francis B. have to do with this? We don't carry..."

  Emily explained the tracking that had taken place, and the latest appearance of the device at Natchez tied directly to the Francis B.

  Gil Arbel was silent for several seconds.

  "So, you are suggesting that my men, on my boat, are involved in this thing? Listen, I know my people, and I know for a fact that none of them would..." Arbel clearly took this situation personally.

  "Sir," Emily said as calmly as she can, "we're not suggesting anything about your people. All we know is that the Francis B. appears to be how these devices are being placed. Somehow it is being used..."

  "All right, let's put an end to this." Arbel slapped the button on his intercom, "Debbie, send Alma in here, and have her bring the traffic sheets for the Francis B. with her, for the past week."

  "I'm sorry sir," she responded, "Alma hasn't come in yet this morning. But I can get those reports for you if you'd like."

  "Uh, ok, yes. For the past week, please." Arbel had a puzzled look on his face.

  "Is there a problem sir?", Emily asked.

  "No, or I don't think so. It’s just strange. Alma is in here by four o'clock each morning. She handles the fleet traffic reports and has those ready for our staff meeting at nine. It’s not like her to be late; and strange she didn't tell anyone. I hope she's ok."

  "Yes, sir. Alma handles all of the traffic?" Emily glanced at Lennie.

  "Yes, she's done it for a few years now. Her husband was port captain with us for many years. After he died, Alma seemed kind of lost, so I offered her the role, temporarily, just to give her something to do. She did such a great job we kept her. In fact, she helped setup the new system a couple of years ago. Honestly, she's probably the only person here who really understands the damn thing; other than Alex."