She paused and then continued, “How is Major Valenzuela doing?”
“Great!” Bill was happy to reply. “I just saw him a few weeks ago. He’s enjoying his job and doing good. Uh, how do you know him?”
“Ah yes, your Las Vegas wedding. Congratulations! I hear it was about time.”
Bill was confused. Did the Commander just make a joke about time displacement?
She continued, “As for Jose, our families know each other from Miami. Brothers dated sisters etcetera. I’m a couple of years older. I was surprised and pleased to see his name come up in this operation. Please tell him that Julia Rivera sends her best.”
Bill didn’t know what else to say. Specifically, he didn’t know what he could say. He didn’t know what this woman did know or was entitled to know about the Project. So, he smiled, held out his hand, and said, “Thank you, Commander. I’ll be sure to pass your greeting on to Jose.”
It stuck Bill that one purpose of this chit chat with the Commander was to give the Chairman plenty of time to get on his way before Wirtz left the room. This Naval officer had a lot of tricks up her well tailored sleeve.
Within two hours he was home and going over everything with Janet.
Chapter 17: "Go Away!"
0900 Saturday, April 17, 2010.
Army Navy Country Club, Arlington, VA
Excerpt from the Personal Narrative of Mr. Ted Arthurs
Recorded April 2017
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET / UMBRA / TA
"In hindsight, breaking the Project away from the DoD was the best for the Nation and for everyone involved. But, I wasn’t sure at the time. The move involved big changes in the personal lives of a lot of people and resistance to change is strong. But yes, it was for the best.”
Ted Arthurs drove the rental car into the long driveway of the Army Navy Country Club. He had hardly ever held a golf club in his entire life, but the instructions he received were clear: “Look like you’re there to play golf.” He had on khaki slacks and a pullover golf shirt. Sally, sitting in the passenger seat, was wearing a new outfit with a pleated skirt and a layered top. Following the instructions, they were alone in the car. Bill Wirtz and Janet would come together, but Fred Landry and Jose Valenzuela were supposed to wander in separately.
The red brick colonial clubhouse with an overly large portico sat on five hundred acres of rolling wooded land just a couple of miles from the Pentagon. The club was over eighty years old and Ted thought that the land had probably survived any number of take-over attempts by developers in that time. Fred Landry, who had spent years in the Pentagon and did play golf, told him there was a splendid view of the Washington Monument from the upper deck in the back of the clubhouse.
The instructions told them to put their vehicles in guest parking and then walk around the building to the back where they would find a plain white door marked “Committee Room.”
It was a beautiful day in Washington and unseasonably warm. As they rounded the back of the building, Sally was struck by the industrious young men cleaning golf clubs, sweeping the concrete deck, and folding towels. She thought that the golf clubs and deck looked pretty clean already and that the towels were simply being unfolded and re-folded. She cleared her throat and heard Ted chuckle softly. He’d seen the same thing.
The door labeled Committee Room was metal and painted white. Ted and Sally weren’t surprised to find that it opened into a short hallway and another white door. A man and a woman in casual golf clothes stood in the hallway in front of a stack of baskets. The man said, “Good morning General, ma’am.” The woman nodded and gave a wisp of a smile and then she said, “Would you empty your pockets, please? Also, please take off your shoes?”
Ted forfeited his leather belt and Sally put her watch and a pin in a basket. They were offered paper slippers like you might wear to a real estate open house, but declined. Then they were both wanded and finally allowed into the room.
Ted thought that the Club’s Committee, whoever they were, lived pretty well. The room was setup with more than a dozen over-stuffed chairs arranged in two rows around a ragged circle so that everyone had legroom and space for a small side table and lamp next to each chair. A bar with coffee, soft drinks, and booze filled one wall. The sole occupant of the room was newly minted Lieutenant Colonel Jose Valenzuela.
“Congratulations, Jose,” Sally said. Ted just smiled and shook Jose’s hand.
“Actually, ma’am, I’ve been frocked,” Jose said.
“I know it sounds like a bad joke, but we had to work hard to get the Air Force to frock you,” Sally replied with a smile.
Ted said, “The Navy often allows people to pin on the rank and assume the responsibility before the actual promotion date. Jose, you were such a deep select for Lieutenant Colonel that you would have sat around for a long time. Joint commands can frock, but Sally had to push hard to get the paperwork approved.”
“I owe you ma’am.”
Sally blinked and looked at Jose, “No, indeed, Jose, I owe you a lot more.”
Before Sally could get sentimental about Jose’s actions during the shooting that, in some other twist in time, took Ted’s life, Bill and Janet shuffled into the room. Bill had on paper slippers, but Janet seemed perfectly comfortable barefoot. In quick succession a half a dozen men and a woman came into the room, nodded at the people from the Project, and started their own discussions.
Ted noticed that all of the men had on golf slacks with fabric belts. Had they been through this before? He cataloged an ex Speaker of the House, an ex Secretary of State, and several sitting members of the House and Senate. Other faces weren’t as familiar. Fred Landry came in accompanied by an ex Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, wearing socks, who came over and exchanged greetings with Ted and Sally.
Sally noted that the men around her were suddenly pointing like hunting dogs and followed their gaze. A striking dark haired woman wearing shorts and a sweater and displaying well toned legs had her eyes locked on Jose and was heading in their direction. She moved gracefully. Her hair was cut so it didn’t touch the collar of her sweater, but she radiated both good looks and confidence.
Jose was startled into action and said, “Julia!” There were strong hugs and double cheek kisses that weren’t just the “air kiss” of polite society. After another hug, Jose introduced Ted and Sally to Julia Rivera. Julia addressed them as Sir and Ma’am. Ted understood that this was the impressive Navy Commander that Bill described from his meeting with the Chairman. Obviously, Bill’s description of Julia lacked details that were obscured from his sight by his infatuation with his wife.
Bill came over and introduced Julia to Janet and they seemed to like each other. Sally was standing next to Julia and Jose. As Jose gave Julia another hug she heard Jose say, “Oye Vieja… como estas?” Julia smiled at him and said rather fondly, “Esta vieja todavia puede poncharte si quiero jovensito.” Sally worked on the translation and figured out that he called her an old lady and she said that she can still strike him out, probably in baseball, anytime she wanted. So they had a competitive friendship, not a romance. Sally relaxed a little. She had become a friend of Rae Dunnan and had her own ideas for Rae and Jose.
Finally, the present Chairman of the Joint Chiefs walked in carrying a putter. He came over and shook the hand of everyone from the Project and had special words for Sally and Janet. Then, he lifted his putter and said, “Let’s get started. I know some of you have legitimate T-times.” He waved everyone toward the seats.
The Chairman started talking even before they were settled. “I’m not going to introduce everyone because none of us was ever here. Everyone in this room knows or at least has read pretty much the same information so we’re all on a level playing field. I don’t think there is anyone in Washington who knows about the Project and its capabilities who isn’t here.”
He fiddled with the handle of the putter and said, “This thing is supposed to buzz any recording device that anyone might have succeeded
in carrying in here. It’s a hell of a deal when you have to carry jammers to the golf course. But,” he added, “the weight of the batteries makes it a damn good putter!”
He paused to scan the room. “I’ve had a couple of meetings with General Arthurs and General Landry over the past few months. I received a good briefing from doctor Wirtz about the state of the Country that made me… made a lot of us think. The people in this room who live and work in Washington range from worried to terrified over the national security and financial situations this country is in. In many ways, The Project is an ace in the hole against chaos. We’re here, meeting like this, because we want you to know that we have your back, but from a distance.”
The Chairman put the putter against a chair. “So far, we are all satisfied that every use of the Project’s resources that we know of was just and justified. We intend to keep it that way. The problem is, everything in Washington leaks. The last real secret we kept was the F-117 Stealth Fighter in the 1980s.”
This reference raised both smiles and frowns around the room. The Internet in particular makes it difficult to keep any big project secret. People leak secrets just to gain a moment of social networking fame. It was no coincidence that the Stealth Fighter, a pre-Internet development, was one of the last secret projects to stay secret until it was needed.
“So,” the Chairman continued, “we’re cutting your funding and cutting your ties.”
Ted, Sally, and Fred had some idea of what was coming, but no one else from the Project did.
“First, we want you to pull down the Homestead facility. Phase out the people as best as you can. Take your time, but do it completely.”
“Six to nine months,” a voice said from a few chairs over. Ted wasn’t sure who said it, but it let him know that there was a committee process behind this thinking.
The Chairman nodded. “Yes, that’s the time frame. In the same time frame, we want you to add more analysis capability in Boulder City. Bill and Janet, I hear land is cheap in Nevada. Sorry, but you’ve got to move. General Landry tells me that he wants a lot more computer power in Boulder City. Make that happen. And then, in about twelve months, expect your government funding to be zero.”
This was a new wrinkle to Ted. He raised his eyebrows. The Chairman explained, “You’ll be able to keep your military personnel under the flight school ruse for a while, but eventually, Colonel Valenzuela and anyone else on active duty will have to move on to a new assignment.”
“You’ll become a private research firm: A think tank. Funding to keep the technical operations going will come from an annual grant from a private corporation. But, understand this, that private corporation has no operational control. Ideally, you will never hear from them.” The Chairman allowed himself a little smile, “That’s not hard since they really don’t exist.”
“The Astronaut.” This time it was a different voice from the chairs.
“Ah yes, Dr. Dunnan. I’m not so sure you should have briefed her in, but Fred claims she’s smart and loyal. Now, she’s your problem to solve.”
The Chairman paused for effect, “The way we feel right now, we would be happy if we never heard from you again. We want you to go dark. We want you to cut almost all ties.” He waited for an expected voice from the side of the room, “All ties.” He nodded. “As those great warrant officers retire, put them on your own payroll.”
Another pause, “Now, here are our orders to you. Protect the Country and protect the Constitution. They are one in the same. Know that we will try to protect you in every way possible, but any contact with us is dangerous and could look bad if it comes out during the fur ball we are going to have inside the Beltway in the next few years. Go away, go dark, pull the hole in after you. But, continue to do good.”
The Chairman looked to his right side, saw a raised eyebrow and remembered that person’s priority topic. “Oh, strategic warning. If some other entity should start to use time tunneling, as Fred calls it, in a way that hurts the US and you need resources to take it out, then we’ll give you an emergency contact. Otherwise, go away. Any questions?”
Ted wasn’t surprised that it was Sally who spoke up, “I’m going to need some good non-bureaucratic paper-pushing contacts in acquisitions and personnel to make this happen. We’ve got good people at our end, but we need to be plugged into the system in a way that let’s us move people and things and acquire some things within a quick time frame.”
The Chairman nodded, “How about we put you under CENTCOM for a while? They’re in Florida, they’ve got high priority acquisition authority, and I happen to know the guy heading it. And, I’ll give you Commander Rivera… well, at least part time. She can get things done.”
Sally nodded. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that CENTCOM, a command that was fighting two wars, was going to give her priority, but at least they were in near-by Tampa, Florida and more likely to cooperate than anyone in Washington. If Rivera was well connected, Sally welcomed the help.
Bill Wirtz asked, “Intel? How do we get NSA, CIA, DHS, and other feeds when we need them?”
“We have a while to work on that, but we think we can give you access to classified networks as a defense contractor. Your people have the clearances, so it’s just a matter of changing status. I hope…” he added.
Ted just looked like he was going to say something and the Chairman said, “No Ted, when you leave Homestead the white jets go away. They’re too visible. Besides, you wanted to retire anyway, go be a Beltway bandit.”
There wasn’t much more to say. The members of their shadow support group gradually filed out of the room using two different doors.
Janet was the first to speak up, “Nevada, eh? You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Bill.”
“I know Realtors,” Jose said innocently.
“I’ve heard that about you!” Janet replied. Julia looked slightly puzzled and then seemed to figure out the joke all on her own.
Ted smiled and then shook his head, “Jose, book yourself to Miami. Let’s go back to Florida and get to work.”
Chapter 18: "Is This Our Job?"
1900 Sunday, May 2, 2010
Project Headquarters, Homestead ARB, FL
Excerpt from the Personal Narrative of Mr. Jose Valenzuela
Recorded April 2014
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET/ TA
"Initially we didn’t think the Times Square bombing was something that involved us. As our sensors and data analysis techniques improved, it became apparent that a successful bomb attack must have led to something bigger. We have projections, but of course no solid evidence of what we caused or prevented.”
This time Ted was working late while Sally was at home. Lately it had often been the other way around. Only a couple of weeks had passed since their meeting in Washington, but they were well underway with plans to draw down the Homestead facility. Much of the burden of making things happen had fallen on Sally as the Director of Administration over a tiny staff of three people. Tonight, Ted was endorsing fitness reports when his desk phone rang. The duty controller said, “General, there’s a news item that you should see.”
Ted walked down the hall to the operations room. The on-duty team had the main screen divided into news feeds from two different networks. “A car bomb in Times Square,” the controller reported tersely. “People were coming out of two theaters and walking by at eighteen thirty-five. The bomb went off with a big fireball. Some people blown apart and many burn victims. Shrapnel and flame damage all around that part of Times Square.”
“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. Monitor the situation. I’ll be in my office, so I’ll be back in to see what develops. ”
- -
The next morning, the Times Square bombing occupied the media. There was wall-to-wall coverage. Slightly over one hundred people were killed by the blast, but the horror came from those who were badly burned. The press focused on the burned and hospitalized children who had just come out of a theater showing “Lion King.” They be
came icons and then martyrs.
On Monday morning the Governor of New York State and the Mayor of New York City gave interviews saying that there were no signs of links to Muslim extremists. Monday noon, the FBI issued a warrant for the arrest of Faisal Shahzad, a 30-year-old Pakistan-born Muslim resident of Bridgeport, Connecticut who had become a U.S. citizen in 2009. Despite attempts to remove all identification from the vehicle, the FBI recovered enough information from the engine to trace the ownership to Shahzad.
New York City and some factions in the Nation were already caught up in a controversy over a mosque being built close to the 9/11 ground zero. When Shahzad was arrested at JFK Airport on Monday May 3, after he apparently shook off an FBI tail and made it on board a flight bound for Dubai, his comments made it clear that he was acting as a Muslim on Jihad. When Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula claimed credit for training the Pakistani Muslim to make bombs, the beatings and burnings started. Interestingly, they didn’t start in New York, but in Detroit.
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