by Ana Stone
“Lean back comfortably and feel the tension ease from your muscles . A feeling of relaxation is stealing over you. I want you to close your eyes. I'm going to count to ten. With each number your relaxation will deepen. You will feel calm and relaxed but your mind will be alert and focused.
“One, you are very relaxed, your muscles are beginning to lose some of their tension. Two, the feeling of relaxation is increasing. Three, the tension in your body is dissipating like a light fog in the morning sun. Four, your mental tension is dissolving. Five, you are going deeper into relaxation. Six, you are reaching a place where tension does not exist. Seven, you are safe and protected. Eight, calm and protected and relaxed. Nine, you are sinking into this protected state of relaxation. Ten, you are there."
She fell silent and regarded him for a moment then got up and turned on the recorder. "Senator?" she sat down again. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Very good. I want you to tell me what was troubling you when you first arrived."
"All those people dying."
"You feel responsible for deaths?"
"Yes."
Sydney frowned. "Senator, I want you to think back to our last session. During that session you told me that taking money from some unethical businessman was the least of your problems. Do you remember that?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me now what those problems you referred to are?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
The senator licked his dry lips and cleared his throat. "I started back in '2004 . . . the first week of July . . .
Senator Tyler walked into the private conference room at the Watergate Hotel to find four other men waiting. An expensively dressed man with unusual green eyes at the head of the table stood and smiled.
"Senator Tyler, thank you for agreeing to meet with us. Please, have a seat. I believe you know these gentlemen?"
Tyler nodded at the rest of the men, all of whom he was acquainted with, and took a seat. The man reclaimed his seat and turned his attention to the man to his right. "General?"
The heavy set man with short iron gray hair nodded and looked around at everyone. "As you all know this country is at present under the threat of another eminent terrorist attack. 9/11 was a merely a warning of−"
"Excuse me," Tyler interrupted. "Under threat of eminent attack? Forgive me, General, but I have heard nothing of any threats."
"Then you are very ill informed," a fellow by the name of Greenland spoke up. "General, if you would allow me to preempt you for a moment."
The General nodded and Greenland turned to Tyler. "Senator, let me give you a little reality check. 9/11 is hardly an isolated act of terrorism in this country. The Federal Bureau of Investigation thwarted a terrorist plan to detonate bombs in the Lincoln and the Holland tunnel under the Hudson river, in the United Nations headquarters and the Manhattan building where the New York office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation is located."
Tyler blanched at the news and swallowed nervously. "But I never heard anything about that!"
"Nor would you ever," Greenland said. "My point is, Senator, that terrorism is not a remote possibility, something that could come into our lives. It is here. Luckily, the FBI had an informer on the inside and was able to prevent the scenario I just described to you. But next time we may not be so lucky. And let me assure you, sir, there will be a next time.
Tyler looked around at the men. "I don’t understand. Why exactly are you telling me this?"
The General took the floor. "Ned, we're old friends and you know that I don't scare easy. But this time, I'm starting to sweat. You have to understand. Terrorism is on the rise on a global scale. And as the superpower on the globe we are in eminent danger. We are the focal point of tremendous hope as well as deep resentments. Not only do we have to worry about the Islamic fundamentalists who see us as Satan, the evil protector of Israel, but we have just as many threats from within our own borders. Subversive and anti-government, anti-military groups are gaining in strength daily. In short, we are sitting ducks."
"Hardly!" Tyler scoffed. "Why we're the strongest nation on−"
"Are we?" The General interrupted. "I don't think so. Terrorists can come and go in and out of this country with no trouble at all. We have tens of thousands of people going in and out of this country from all over the globe. Who's going to spot a terrorist among all these numbers? And explosives can be purchased by almost anyone without ever raising suspicion. Just consider the kind of bomb that can be built with no more than diesel fuel and certain fertilizers that can be purchased at any corner hardware store. And what about the enemy from within? Like the serial bomber? The man who is responsible for sending mail bombs to the University of California professor and the Yale University associate professor? The same man who is suspected of being responsible for twelve other bombings? Are we safe from him?"
Tyler shook his head. "No−I mean, I don't know. I'm not−just what is your point?"
"My point is that this country is vulnerable and unless the government takes swift and drastic action our people are in eminent danger."
"What kind of action are you referring to?"
"Wide ranging. First we need to elect a leader who will help us to rebuild the might of our military," the general replied and gave a nod to the fourth man of their group. Tyler wasn’t friends with the man, but had met him and knew he moved in powerful circles and not just in this country.
The General continued. "And Ned, you and I and everyone else in this room knows that the military's budget has being slashed dangerously low. Along with that, we're being placed in the role of international policemen - expected to go on foreign soil and police a foreign population. I'll be straight with you. Our troops are not prepared or trained for that type of role. Look at our success rate thus far. The media is full of stories. We cannot be expected to perform at optimal levels without optimum training and equipment and that - as we all know - is not possible without funding."
"So that's what this is all about? Funding?" Tyler looked around.
"Essentially, yes," the General replied. "What we - and many others within our respective groups want is to see – among other things − the military budget increased."
"I don't think that's going to happen," Tyler responded. "Wes, let's be reasonable. I - we people of the Senate and Congress - we can't go to our constituents and say "hey, I've decided to cut education and clean air and welfare and give that money to the military. The public simply won't go for it. The Cold War is over and Americans just don't see the need to spend billions of dollars of their tax money on a fat military."
"Exactly," the man who had first greeted him spoke up. "You've cut right to the heart of the matter, Senator."
"I have?" Tyler was confused.
"Yes," the man smiled. "What is required is a change in public opinion. And a change in leadership."
"A change?" Tyler looked around. "Well, I know a lot of people want to get the Democrats out of office and perhaps if we had a strong enough candidate we could do that. But something that will make the people want to increase the military budget? Well, color me stupid but I can't think of anything short of world war three that would do that."
The man laughed quietly. "Perhaps not, Senator. But I can."
"I can still remember the smile on his face when he said that," Tyler said. "I looked into those damn jungle cat green eyes of his and part of me wanted to run out of that room. But I didn't. I should have. I should have run as fast and far as I could."
Sydney listened with a sense of growing horror. When Senator Tyler fell silent she was so stunned by what he’d said that for a moment she couldn’t speak. Finally, she cleared her throat. "And so after this meeting - were you ever contacted by these people again?"
"Many times. He's a demon from hell, Doctor - the devil himself. He said he would change the mind of the people. That there would come a day when I would see the tide turn. And I did. We all did.
He paused and she waited in expectant silence, anticipating that he had more to say. "But it would have brought everything down with them," he said softly. "How could I do that? The country would be in chaos, there would be no government - no one to head the military. Anarchy would reign and we would truly have been vulnerable - completely without protection. What could I have done but a prisoner in this territory of lies I find myself inhabiting..
“But the children, Doctor, the children. How can I ever look at my grandchildren without seeing the faces of those who died today? How can I live knowing that I didn’t have the courage to try and stop it? How −"
Tyler started to gasp and his face paled. Sydney jumped up and grabbed his shoulders. "Listen to me," she tried to be very calm. "The anxiety you feel is going to subside. Breathe slow and evenly and feel the anxiety diminish. You must concentrate only on my voice. I’m going to count backwards from ten to bring you out. When I finish counting you will be calm and completely coherent."
Tyler was still breathing heavily but not in heaving pants and gasps like before. She counted evenly but quickly. After she reached the number one she sat back in her chair. "Senator?"
Tyler blinked and looked at her with the eyes of the condemned. "Doctor Forrest, what am I going to do? How can I live with myself?"
She leaned forward slightly. "Senator, we all make decisions we later regret and the only way to resolve the regret is to take steps to right whatever wrongs we might have done. I’m not convinced you are responsible for the things you claim, and I think you should take some time to think about that. I’d like for you to come back tomorrow, if possible. I think that with more frequent sessions I may be able to help you."
He barked a harsh laugh. "Therapy? You think therapy's going to change anything?"
"No, I don't. But I think it can help you see things objectively and clearly. That’s what you came to me for, isn't it?"
He nodded and stood up. "Yes. I'll be here, but it will have to be later in the afternoon around five."
"That's fine, I'll see you then."
He started to go to the door but stopped and looked at her. "Doctor, do you think I'm a monster?"
"No, Senator, I don’t. I think you're a person with a problem and my only concern is helping you see a way out of that problem."
"Thank you," he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Sydney watched him leave then ran to her desk to stop the recording. She quickly copied the audio file to a flash drive and then deleted it from her computer. "Deaths?" she whispered. "What is he talking about?"
She put the flash drive into her purse and left the office to go home where it was private. She didn’t know where all this was leading, but she felt it was important to record what Senator Tyler had told her and put the information where it would not be found.
The moment she arrived at her apartment she went straight to the computer. It took her almost half an hour to transfer and review the data and then hide the file along with the others. After leaving a message for GW to retrieve the file and store it with the others but not to decode it, she went into the bedroom to change clothes. She turned on the television set as she took off her jacket and unzipped her skirt. When she heard the word "bomb" she turned to the set.
Her hand flew to her mouth as her legs turned to rubber. Sydney sank down on the end of the bed and stared in horror at the screen, hearing for the first time the news about the bombing in Akron.
A lump formed in her throat as the camera switched to show a still shot of a fireman carrying the body of a small child from the destruction. The child's hair was matted with blood and its body was covered with stains. The child’s small body hung limply in the strong arms of the fireman. His face wore an expression of grief, compassion and deep sadness as he looked down at the tiny child.
The scene switched to show video footage of people running out of the building after the explosion; people bloodied and terrified. But the most heartbreaking scenes were that of the children; innocence that could not understand but could only experience the horror and pain, huddled together with those who had brought them to safety, looking like victims of a war no one knew had started.
The newscast was interrupted by a briefing from the White House. The President had just signed an Executive Order, shutting down all entry into the United States by anyone other than a US citizen with a permanent residence. He was quoted as saying that it was time to close the borders, suspend immigration and put the safety of the nation first. If need be, he would declare a state of martial law, issue a national curfew and suspend all travel with the States.
Sydney felt a sickness take hold in her stomach as she watched. She didn’t know whether to support the travel ban or not. All she could think about were Tyler’s words. The children. What about all the children, he said. My god, he knew!
Chapter Four
Wednesday, April 19th
Akron, Ohio
While rescue teams worked frantically to get to the people trapped inside the federal building other specialists were hard at work to discover clues that would lead them to the person or persons responsible. Four FBI "fly-away teams", their computers and forensic equipment had been dispatched to the scene. At the Strategic Information Operations Center in FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C., the mood was one of confident optimism. Those who were experienced in such investigations understood one very fundamental truth about people who commit such terrible crimes. Regardless of who they are or how careful they might be, they always leave clues.
Two blocks from ground zero in Akron, the first clue came in the form of a piece of hard evidence. An FBI agent finds a twisted piece of charred metal; a piece of a truck axle with a vehicle identification number on it. He immediately took the fragment back to the command center and gave it to his superior who fed the VIN into the computer.
Within moments the FBI had its first lead. The truck was a Ryder vehicle, manufactured in Detroit by Ford, and assigned to a rental company in nearly three hundred miles from Akron.
Meanwhile the news media was jumping. A Palestinian-American man was reported to be traveling from Akron to the Middle East. He was spotted in Atlanta at the airport and detained. The news media reported that he was an interpreter who had been in the employ of the government for over a decade, but the NSA scooped him up and secreted him away for what the White House Press Secretary was calling “high level interrogation.”
There were groups outraged by the man’s arrest and protests already springing up over it, claiming it to be just another example of racial prejudice.
Immediately around the country, supporters of the administration were beginning to point accusatory fingers. Every middle-eastern group in America was being looked at suspiciously. Many were quick to point out that it had been middle-easterners who were responsible for the World Trade Center bombing and 9/11.
Like a tidal wave, mistrust and suspicion washed over the country, fueled by news reports and speculation. Neighbors began looking at each other through the eyes of prejudice and bigotry. The explosion had destroyed much more than was originally thought. Now it threatened to sweep the country into the kind of fear and racism that precipitates violence.
Washington, D.C.
Sydney had no idea how long she had been sitting on the bed, watching in horror as the reports continued from. When at last, the network returned to the regularly scheduled program that was in progress she remained fixed in place; her eyes staring vacantly at the television screen while her mind was filled with Senator Tyler's words.
But the children, Doctor, the children. How can
I ever look at my grandchildren without seeing the faces of those who have died this day? How can I live knowing that I did not have the courage to try and stop it?
Sydney's mind was in a whirl. Without realizing it she jumped up and began to pace the floor in rapid, nervous steps. If Tyler really did have foreknowledge of this unspeakable act of savagery−if his story was true−then it was clear this was not, as the media hinted, the work of some fundamentalist middle-eastern group. The plot had not originated somewhere thousands of miles across the world. It had been hatched right here in this country. And aside from the others involved with Senator Tyler she was the only one who knew the truth.
"Oh, my god!" Her legs suddenly felt as if they would collapse beneath her. "I'm the only one who knows!"
Fear and uncertainty rose like a wave of nausea, threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break the doctor patient privilege and reveal what she knew. But how could she remain silent?
"God, help me," she whispered. "Somebody tell me what to do." First you need proof, a small voice inside her head spoke up. Right now all you have are the ramblings of a mentally disturbed man. You need more.
Yes! She grabbed onto the thought with desperation. That's it. I need proof. Names and dates−something I can verify. I can start at his session tomorrow. But I have to be careful how I handle this. What I'll have to do is−"
The ring of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She quickly pulled on on a robe over her blouse and pantyhose and went to the door. Senator Tyler stood outside. She could smell the alcohol on him.
"Senator! What are you doing here?"
"I−I didn't know where else to go," he stammered. "Doctor, I can't take it anymore. I have to talk to someone!"
"Come in." She stepped aside. "Please, have a seat. Let me change and I'll be right back."