* * *
Langley was like all other government agencies; the front doors closed at five and it was going home time for the clerical and front security staff. For Johnny Prior, the end of normal business hours meant it was going-home-time for the day. But for everyone else, this place was just waking up. The last couple of days had been among the busiest he’d ever seen—and sometimes he wished he knew what was behind the hushed conversations and hurried steps of the spooks that dwelled within. Then he thought about Ken Beck and decided he liked his life just fine.
Johnny was looking forward to a nice stiff one and catching the Skins game on TV. He had just closed his station at the front desk and was heading to his office when he saw someone had stuck a piece of gum on the bas-relief of Allan Dulles. Really, some adult did this? He took out the tissue he had in his pocket and pulled the gummy substance off, yuck.
Upon further inspection, he discovered it wasn’t really gum, but more like a tacky blue clay. It had been concealing a paper resembling a fortune cookie with some numbered writing on it. Then he remembered the memo from a couple of years ago—it was super high priority and it had been reiterated a couple of times since then. Anything unusual that has anything to do with Allan Dulles was to be reported immediately to the Old Man himself. Shit, Johnny thought, Bob Thompson’s not even here anymore. He carefully carried his find back to the front desk and his phone. Then he had a disturbing thought. Damn it, I forgot to set my DVR for the game.
2 – Deceptions
Do you think of her?” Vera had broken Matt’s thoughts as he stared out the window with consternation.
“No,” he said and looked at her face in the afternoon sun, as usual, her skin was flawless. She came over and sat beside him.
“But you did love her once, you made a child with her. You’re not the type of man to take that lightly, are you?” He gently put his finger over her lips to stop her next words.
“I’ve never seen the child, nor do I even know the sex. I can’t even remember what our day-to-day life was like at this point. I can’t recall her smell or touch, as she’s so far gone from my memory that all I can remember is you.
“If I’d stayed, her father would have hovered over everything I ever did. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have let me take the kid out alone. Maybe one day I can get to know him independent of them, who knows, maybe our friend Pablo could even help me.”
Vera could see there was no deception in his eyes or his words. He loved her completely and soon she was going to tell him he was to be a father to their baby, but not quite yet. She wanted to keep that information to herself for a little while longer.
“You just looked troubled was all. And yes, one day we will liberate your child from those people.”
Matt responded, “I’m not troubled, I’m just thinking about the dogs and how I can better utilize them. I’m actually going to go to the range and practice right now. Yesterday Felipe showed up and shot next to me, we had a little competition going.”
“Did you win?”
“Of course I did,” Matt winked at her, “so he made sure before I left to remind me to never go into the mountain armed.”
“Well, that figures. Okay, I’ll leave you be, I’m going to go running.” She got up and there it was again, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He tracked her every movement, she literally couldn’t make a move he wasn’t watching.
Am I so sure I can live without her? Would staying with the most beautiful, awesome girl I’ve ever known be so bad? He’d gone really deep here, both emotionally and spiritually. Pablo was a very convincing and spiritual individual, and he’d made impact on Matt’s own philosophy.
Matt knew that his planned actions were going to bring hardship to this place, and to her. He felt himself slightly torn as he remembered the night he brought her home. As soon as Pablo saw the catatonic Vera and figured out what had happened to her, he immediately broke down into compassionate tears. It was so hard to imagine that same person was going to take on the United States now. But from everything Matt had detected on his tours around the compound, he knew Pablo was getting ready for a war of some kind or another. Maybe I should try to reason with him rather than play the saboteur?
This last year he noticed that he had been really able to sell it. He had accomplished his goal of gaining their trust and was able to go out un-followed at this point, completely trusted. He even took Vera on an eventful outing to the city. He’d previously had a security detail, but no longer.
And for the last year, he’d been in charge of ground security—and it meant he got to work with the dogs, which he loved. It also afforded him the ability to make supply purchases and talk to people, which of course led to making friends. It was one of Matt’s best traits that he could make friends anywhere. And apparently his face didn’t give off the creep vibe—which gave him the ability to walk up to strangers and start conversations without awkwardness on either side. He’d always been that way, and it was with that ability to find commonality with anyone that enabled him to make his first real friend since being captured.
One of his responsibilities was the care of the dogs. But this wasn’t the United States and there were no pet stores per-say. Here they had the General Store and the owner acquired what you wanted once you requisitioned it. That’s how he found Mauricio Vega. Mauricio owned the General Store, and Matt, being a local curiosity, was an easy conversation target; not to mention Mauricio spoke fluent English.
They ended up talking every time he went in there and sometimes Matt would make the security detail wait in the car for thirty minutes or more just so he could stay and talk to Mauricio. The days were hot and he usually kept the keys with him just to be cruel. One day he and Mauricio were talking U.S. immigration policies and Mauricio said, “Fuck those Putos, they talk out of both sides of their ass. My brother-in-law owns a cleaning company in D.C. and my sister has half our family working there. And not just private businesses and houses; they do offices on Capitol Hill, even the CIA and the White House!”
“Really?” Matt said. “That sounds far-fetched after 9/11.”
“Oh sure, it was for a while,” Mauricio said, “but just like we knew would happen, their guards were let down for Hispanics working there. How else would NAFTA work?” That’s when Mauricio pulled out his phone. The pictures from his sister Anabel confirmed his proclamation, as she had pictures from inside the White House.
“What else can I do but agree. The U.S. can be a callous and confusing place.” Those words coming out of an ex-patriot were what Mauricio seemed to want to hear. Matt obliged the truth, but as he was walking back to his car, grateful for the first break he’d gotten in a long time, he thought, Yeah, it’s a fucked up place sometimes, but no system is perfect. What so many people don’t get is it’s also a kind, wonderful, and inspiring place, like no other on Earth. You just have to be “from there” to truly get it.
Matt started his car and waved to Mauricio on the way out. His new friend thought he had America figured out, but he didn’t, not by a long shot. Of course, if Matt tried to convince him otherwise, he would lose the only friend he had. That’s the way it always seemed to be nowadays—he in a place where he had to conceal his true self, or risk losing everything. He looked in his rearview as Mauricio was rolling the front gate closed for the day. Yes my friend, you have some valid points, but aside from all other arguments, that happens to be my home, compadre, and there’s no place on earth I’d rather live.
Matt woke up from his daydream. It was time to check the kennels. He could see things were accelerating, as everyone seemed to have more purpose in their step. It seemed the time was coming close, and as far as Matt was concerned, it was approaching too fast. He wasn’t sure he wanted to act, let alone if he could act.
He realized that he better be careful though; she had just read his face a minute ago and she knew something was troubling him. Now came the hard part—he was going to have to lie to people he’d grown close to
for two years now. Matt realized that letting his guard down and allowing her to detect his forlorn attitude had better be a one-time mistake. It’s time for me, Matt Hurst, to stop wearing my emotions on my sleeve.
He steeled himself inside, as he needed to get on track and realize that this showdown was going to happen. He saw something in Quito when he and Vera went on their little shopping trip. Vera’s reason for the trip was to buy some sexy clothes so she could put on shows for him. She loved to drive him wild and had nothing new to show him as of late. He didn’t know everything about women, but he did know that when one perceivably runs out of things to wear, then there will be no happiness until the shopping was done. Even in the middle of whatever these two are up to.
They were walking through the mall, Matt holding two handfuls of bags when he spotted a little game store. In the window he saw something new to him. It was a three-way chessboard. Three-way chess, huh? He was a very good player, always one of the best in school or among his friends, but this was his first sight of a three-way chessboard. The dynamics intrigued him as Pablo’s words came back to him. One night Pablo’s chess prowess came up at dinner. Vera was bragging about how he’s probably the best player in the world. Pablo talked about how he uses chess in all his life’s work, “The game is truly just a metaphor for life, Matt.”
Matt was as intrigued then as he was now. That’s what this has become, a big game of three-way chess. Only Pablo thinks he’s playing a two way game on a regular board, which should be just the handicap I need. That night Matt left out the fact he was also a chess player, never wanting to seem too scheming. Matt had decided all along that he was going to make his move when he had his pieces in position, and finally now, they were.
It also looked like his timing was coinciding with their timing. It’s very interesting how things work out sometimes. One minute you have the end zone in sight, you’re first and goal. The next minute something (or a series of things) comes out of nowhere and sets you back to the forty-yard line. A sure-win was now up for grabs. I hope I have enough surprises in store that they miss that field goal. My country is counting on it.
* * *
Doug Sharp was about to head to the airport. He had chosen to pilot for Southwest. “Chosen” was the operative word as he had more than one offer to be a pilot. That was unexpected. He figured after his notoriety he would get rejected by everyone. He knew he wasn’t a traitor, as he was coerced into helping Matt and Vera at gunpoint, but re-entering society was terrifying nonetheless. The news reports, polls, and blogs had people burning him at the stake.
Unbelievably, just the opposite happened after he made a few appearances on TV. When cornered by reporters, he was able to stay cool and was even a little snarky at times. He really hammered Nightline’s Bill Weir when he was asked the most ludicrous question, “Weren’t you scared?” His answer was cool, he knows. He’d re-watched it so many times even he was sick of it. He simply stated, “Okay Bill, how about you be me and I’ll be the bad guy. Let’s start with me shooting the concrete out from under your hand with a silenced pistol in order to make you fly. I also just informed you that the next one is through your head. Sidebar Bill. In real life, I know who carries these types of weapons, as I watch movies.
“So then I point the gun right at you Bill and say, ‘you’re flying me out of here!’ Now, keep in mind, I just killed someone who assaulted you, the pilot, and knocked you out a mere five minutes before. The man who attacked you is now lying on the floor next to you and his brains are all over the place at my hands, the man with the gun. Now don’t forget, I’m the bad guy and I’m pointing a gun at your head.”
Doug had only been pointing his finger in the vicinity of Mr. Weir, but now he positioned it impolitely at his host’s head. “Now go Bill, what do you do? Do you fly me and hope to be spotted? Or do you let me blow your head off for an unknown cause?”
After that Nightline episode aired one and a half years ago, his life had never been the same. Even his parents looked at him differently, as he had found something he’d been afraid of his whole life . . . PASSION.
Doug was going out of Chicago Midway today and the weather looked good, but of course everyone was still shaken up about the bomb in Peru and subsequent message from the Jesuit Sheep. The President was going on tonight at six. Doug’s flight plan for the day was going to end up in the Bay Area and that was fine with him because he had that little Asian girl in Oakland that he loved to see. He popped open his laptop after he dressed and checked to see if she was game. God I love Facebook! After the “Tonight Show” and “Jimmy Kimmel Live,” he couldn’t turn around without bumping into another girl who really wanted the “inside story.” Doug has had more “inside story” nights than he can count now. He had a new message from his girl in Oakland; it read, “waiting to hear from you, lover.”
Especially happy with the prospect of what lay ahead, he moved to the next unread email from a person with a first name of “Tahoe” and the last name of “Nightflyer.” A chill went down Doug’s spine. He opened the e-mail and it read, “Don’t fly for a while. Get the flu. Shh. MH.” Holy Shit! What do I do? He was still trying to comprehend that Matt was alive when he remembered Ray Callahan, and how their last conversation went. He reached for his cell phone without hesitation, as Ray let him know the consequences of not making this call. Doug wanted no part of a probe being placed in a place where the sun doesn’t shine, so he made the call.
* * *
The President addressed the room, “Well, Gentlemen, what do we have?”
Eric Barnett spoke first, “The signal is coming from a satellite over South America, owned by an Indian Company called Tanjotti. They of course are saying their satellite is being hijacked. We believe that to be true and we started tracing the origins of this company, but it’s like unweaving a Persian rug. This has to be our bad guys, as this Tanjotti Company was recently purchased, apparently just for this broadcast. This satellite was recently launched by our Russian friends.”
“Can we trace its origin signal?” asked President Caulfield.
Eric spoke, “They’re using some kind of proxy server system and we haven’t been able to pinpoint its source. It’s very sophisticated.”
“Can we knock it out?” was the Presidents next query.
General Hatten spoke up next, “We have the standard ASAT (guided missile) we can launch off of a Tomcat if we fly it up high enough. We also have another current project that we believe can knock it out, but it has to be in closer range to us.”
The President commanded, “Okay, well, get those action and contingency plans on my desk within the hour.”
“If I might interject a moment,” it was General Osborne this time. “Can someone remind me why we’re going to waste resources to knock out that satellite again? So what if it’s up there, all it’s doing is essentially bleating; why make it a military target?”
The room did what it had not done previously, it divided and it went into slight pandemonium in the process. That was until the Commander-in-Chief stood and took control. Kim proudly watched as he expertly silenced them with a heartfelt and concise reason, “I’ll tell you all why we will take out this satellite,” the President issued. “The minute those fanatics stepped foot on our soil and stole our property, they presented a clear and present danger to our sovereignty. They killed our citizens, destroyed our property, and stole defense secrets that cannot be replaced. They showed no regard for the lives they took and now we have a target of theirs.
“Now you all heard the speech, they bragged about taking the things they needed to make this happen. I think we all know what they were talking about here, right? We have an opportunity to reach out and touch them and we will! So once again, have those plans on my desk within the hour. Let’s switch channels to this attack on Peru.” President Caulfield looked to Eric Barnett again, “So what are we to make of this attack? If this was a Soviet weapon, where did it come from? Certainly this was no accident.”
“I do and it comes from a directive issued from the former Director of your office.” She explained the note. Eric responded quickly, “Get Ray on the line. I remember something from when I started the job. Bob Thompson asked me to keep one thing between just the two of us, he said Ray might one day bring me the incredible and implored me to make sure I listen before I judged. He wouldn’t tell me anything more.”
The line brought Ray into the conversation, “Ray, do you know anything about a directive being given the Home Office Security staff involving contacting me directly about anything unusual happening involving Allan Dulles?”
“Why?” Ray inquired, more than over-stimulated by the question, sensing its coming importance.
“Because we just found a note stuck to the bas-relief of Allan Dulles at Headquarters.”
Ray was adamant, “Have it sent there, I’m on my way!”
Ray called her private cell, and Kim answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”
“I’m observing a high level meeting.” Ray knew better, Kim was analyzing the War Room. Bob had told him the secret behind Caulfield’s amazing ability to control the War Room and now he was heading to see her as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Meet me in your office, Kim, I have Sarah and Eric en route. We need to talk.”
Ray unfolded the whole thing to his new boss and Barnett looked dumbfounded. “That’s an incredible tale, Ray. Not being offensive, but given what I know of the history of this, it’s a good thing you have Kim here to back this up.”
And the Meek Shall Inherit (Harbinger of Change Book 2) Page 4