Computer Capers

by Dan Kelly

  Senator Sean O’Malley calls the meeting to order, there is quiet for a few seconds, the committee members begin shuffling papers and then mayhem ensues. Everybody wants to talk at once, everybody thinks what they have to say is more important, more relevant, than anything anybody else has to say and tempers begin to rise.

  O’Malley tries in vain to calm things down and restore some order and is about to get up and bodily try to get his message across when he suddenly doesn’t feel so good. He’s having trouble breathing and is getting very sleepy. He looks around the room, hoping to get the attention of someone, anyone to help him, to get him some medical assistance, but no one is paying him any attention as they all apparently are experiencing the same symptoms he is. Two minutes later they’re all dead. Order and quiet has finally been restored, permanently.

  Outside in the hall, Senator O’Malley’s admin is talking with one of the security guards assigned to keep watch over the distinguished assemblage. “It sounds like they finally settled down and are addressing the issues on the agenda.”

  The guard responds with, “I’ve learned to ignore most politicians and their antics. They know all the tricks to get your attention and when they do they’ll talk for hours without really saying anything.” Unless I see a potential threat to their safety, they don’t exist as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Well, you can get away with that. I’ve got to pay attention to what they say and do, pay being the operative word, as they pay me for doing so.”

  They both resumed what they were doing before their little exchange, the guard to making his rounds and the admin to reviewing some memorandums that were sent to her. Another ten minutes go by without a peep from behind the closed door and this arouses the admin’s curiosity.

  She opens the door, peeks inside and faints. The security guard has just come around the corner and sees the admin falling to the floor. He rushes over to see what happened and as he approaches he sees that the admin’s foot is preventing the door from closing all the way. As he tries to revive her, he reaches out to pull her foot from the doorway. In doing so, he glances into the conference room and gets the shock of his life. There are bodies everywhere, in all kinds of positions, but there is no sign of violence. The looks on their faces are quite serene.

  “ What the hell?” The security guard notifies his supervisor and the information flies up the chain of command, reaching the President fifteen minutes after the admin hit the floor. The President’s and VP’s security details are put on alert and investigators from all corners of the Washington bureaucracy sweep down on the Dirksen Senate Office Building.

  Chapter 42

  -Washington D. C.-

  An hour after Joel and Ashok arrived at the Oval office, the Vice President comes out of the office with worry deeply etched in his face. A moment later, the President appears in the doorway and motions them inside.

  “Gentlemen, please have a seat. About two hours ago, I received one of the worst phone calls of my life, the likes of which I could never have imagined in my worst nightmare. Shortly after the special joint sub-committee meeting I requested convened, our enemy unleashed his most diabolical weapon yet and killed 15 of our most senior congressmen. It’s being surmised that some kind of poison gas was used that spread quickly, did its damage and then just as quickly dispersed into harmless vapor. It is being further theorized that this gas was released into the conference room via the ventilation system. We’re hoping the autopsies will reveal the kind of gas used so we can determine if there are ways to deal with it.

  “Investigations are under way to determine how this was accomplished. There had to be a lapse in security somewhere or, God forbid, we have another mole in our midst.”

  Ashok’s face was twisted into some deep thought. Joel said, “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

  “I was just thinking about an article I recently read about something called ‘choke damp’.

  It’s a name given to carbon dioxide released by coal deep down in coal mines. It kills almost instantly and can be rendered harmless by adding large amounts of oxygen to the air. Mr. President, you might want to suggest this as a possible cause of these deaths to the people conducting the investigations.”

  “Thank you, Ashok, I will. Damn it. If we had found out about Ferguson sooner, we might have avoided this tragedy.”

  Joel responded with, “Hank would probably say, ‘We lost a battle, that’s far from losing the war.’ We’re closing in on these guys, Mr. President. Don’t waste your time on thoughts like that. We need you to concentrate your energy on keeping the nation from tearing itself apart.”

  “Intellectually I know you’re right, emotionally it’s a differently ball game.”

  “One more thing, Mr. President, and then we’ll split. How are you going to handle the fact that the heating problem in Ferguson’s office hasn’t been fixed?”

  “Lorraine has that covered. She’ll tell him some parts had to be ordered and they are on back order.”

  Joel smiled and said, “No one would ever think that someone with such an innocent looking face could be such an accomplished liar.”

  “That quick mind of hers has bailed me out of more tight spots than any politician would like to admit.” They bid their farewells and headed for the airport, again in a taxi.

  During the flight back, there was little conversation as their heads were filled with thoughts of what calamity might be coming down the road next and if they would be lucky enough to get their hands on info that would enable them to put up an effective road block. Ashok was so preoccupied that he forgot all about his fear of flying.

  Chapter 43

  -Chicago-

  The next morning the Sentry team is sitting around the conference room table clearly dejected because they are dead in the water until Vincent Torizzio or one of the agencies assisting in the suspect searches can shake something loose or some revealing email traffic passes through Sam Ferguson’s office. Hank startled them out of their mood by slamming his fist on the table and saying, “Enough of this doom and gloom. While we’re waiting for something to happen, we can work on developing a trap using Ferguson’s email. Any ideas?”

  Barbara spoke up first. “Joel and I were talking earlier about what makes any trap attractive to its intended prey. Obviously, it’s the bait. The general qualifications are it must have an appealing aroma, be tasty and appear easy and free of risk to take. One other qualification is that it must be the right kind of bait for the intended prey. What will tempt one prey will disinterest another.

  “With the recent assassinations, it is clear that our prey has a liking for political figures, but not all political figures. Otherwise, the entire U. S. Congress could have been wiped out instead of a select few. So, it follows that our bait should be a political figure of significant stature to have his or her demise shock and scare the hell out of the American people. It is becoming more clear to me with every passing day that this is what all of what has happened these past months is all about. Whoever is behind all of these occurrences wants to create turmoil, indecisiveness, fear and desperation to achieve their ultimate goal, the destruction of our way of life to be replaced by something that will give them unbridled power.

  “These people may have additional reasons for picking the individuals they killed, but we won’t know what those reasons are until we capture them and can get them to talk. Suffice it to say, these people have no qualms about removing any obstacle that gets in their way, human or otherwise.”

  Hank asked, “Do you have someone in mind to serve as bait for these lunatics?”

  After some hesitation, she answered with a terse yes.

  Somewhat annoyed at the brevity of her answer he asked, “Well, are you going to share this information with the rest of us or are you going to make us guess?”

  “President Weinstein.”

  As soon as she said the name, everyone understood her hesitancy to say it.

  Perry Jacobs spilled c
offee all over his shirt as he leaped from his chair and exploded with, “Have you been nipping at that Shamrock beer those little leprechauns of yours like to lace with magic potions? It would be insane to put the President’s life at risk in any scheme no matter what the stakes are.”

  Kirk Dodson jumped in with, “What makes you think his life isn’t already at risk?”

  “I don’t know if it is or isn’t. I just think that this potato junkie is out of line to suggest such a thing. The risks are just too great.”

  Joel stole a glance at Barbara and saw that she was about to blow. Ever since Barbara had spurned Perry’s advances when she first joined the company, things have been tense between them. Perry’s about to get a better understanding of how taut tension can be.

  Perry continued with his mocking of Barbara’s suggestion using a fair Irish brogue. “If we pursue this lassie’s idea, the President will wind up on the other side of the sod just like thousands of other Micks who have relied on Irish luck and the goodwill of the fairies.”

  In less than a second , Perry was on the floor and Barbara was in his face hissing, “You take one more lick at my Irish heritage and you’ll never be able to lick anything again for I’ll be cuttin’ out your tongue.” Then she cut loose with a string of epithets, some in English, some in Gaelic, and Perry got her drift in both cases. She finally released her hold on him and returned to her seat. Midnight, however, who was instantly on alert when Barbara flew out of her chair, remained in his aggressive stance, teeth bared and growling menacingly. After waiting a minute to let the lesson Perry was learning sink in, she gave Midnight the command to stand down.

  The look on Perry’s face gradually changed from one of fear, to one of embarrassment to one of complete surprise at the skill she possessed to put him down. He was no lightweight and she had handled him with ease.

  With a subtle little smile playing on his lips and not acknowledging anything untoward had just occurred Hank said, “Okay, we know where these two stand. What about the rest of you?”

  Collette Cummins said, “Well, the President certainly fits Barbara’s criteria and from personal experience I know he has the guts for it. I don’t know what any of you think of him as a President, but I know one thing for sure. He doesn’t like to be pushed around. When someone tries to do it, his temper flares very quickly, igniting a bonfire in his belly for retaliation. When he erupts, when he loses it, he makes Mt.Vesuvius look like a New Year’s Eve sparkler. I’ve seen it. It’s not a pretty sight.

  “However, although I think he’d jump at the chance to be the bait to lure these people into a trap, I don’t think he’s the right bait. Like Barbara, I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about what these people are trying to accomplish and I agree with her. Whoever is behind everything that has been happening wants to create chaos, fear and desperation to destroy our way of life and replace it with something that will put the reins of power in their hands.

  “I believe our enemy has a desired end in sight and it is not the complete destruction of the American people and their possessions. It is the consistent and serious disruption of our infrastructure and means of self-governing to reduce our citizenry and leadership to a state of exhaustion, to a state of helplessness and hopelessness. I believe their game plan is to create unprecedented havoc without giving any hint of whom or what might be behind the bedlam until the very last minute. When that minute arrives, our enemy will reveal themselves and offer us a way out. Our enemy wants that final decision to be made in an atmosphere of complete collapse and desperate capitulation. When that minute arrives, there must be some vestige of power remaining to make the final decision.

  “The President is the ideal person to fill the role of the last vestige of power and therefore wouldn’t be the right bait for out trap. I strongly believe that our enemy wants to keep our President alive and well. However, the Vice President is another matter.”

  Allison DeAngelo quipped, “From what I hear, he’s a lot like the President in that he has a hair trigger temper and doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear, but then again he doesn’t know the meaning of most words. Come on folks, he’s definitely not a Mensa candidate. He’s the epitome of a guy whose wheel is still spinning, but the hamster’s dead. He’s a loose cannon and frequently acts before engaging his brain. He’d do something to mess things up. I just know it. He got the VP slot only because his father is a gazillionaiare and not because of his intellect or political acumen.”

  Sal Peralta spoke up with, “I agree with what you said, Allison, but what he is, who he is and the many public faux pas he’s pulled make him the ideal target for the these fanatics. He’s probably done or said something to tick them off to a point that, if given the opportunity, they would jump at it.”

  There was a great deal more heated discussion about who the bait should be until a consensus was finally reached. It was concluded that with the Speaker of the House already being removed from the line of succession to the Presidency in the recent poisoning of the members of the special sub-committee meeting, the Vice President’s removal would leave the ideal vestige of power in place for the enemy to conquer. The trick was going to be to make the bait so tempting, so accessible, that it will not be ignored.

  Hank leaned back in his seat and said, “Okay everybody, let’s take a break. Be back here in an hour with your creative juices revved and ready to go. Perry, Barbara, in my office now.”

  Joel’s thinking, “Oh, oh. I thought Hank was going to let that little encounter of theirs pass without comment. Looks like their in store for more than a comment.”

  As soon as Hank closed his office door he was off and running. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you and I don’t want to know, but I’ll tell you what I do know. You two had better settle your differences or I’ll be forced to make some staff changes. I will not tolerate such unprofessional behavior in my company. Our success has been built on teamwork and that little episode of yours out there was the antipathy of what teamwork is all about.” After ten more minutes of raking their butts over the coals, he shouted, “Am I making myself clear?”

  Getting nods from both of them he ended his tirade with, “Okay then, out of here the both of you. I hope this is the last of this situation. From now on, Perry, keep your snide remarks to yourself no matter what the accent.” Scowling, Perry got up and stomped out of the office.

  “And you, save those skills of yours for the bad guys. I know Perry can be a little pushy at times, but he’s one of the good guys.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Picking up his cell phone, he plays back something over the built in speaker. “Iss minik ah gevh-yun bail uskult dee-ug doon-tah!”

  “What does that mean in English?”

  Her face turning beet red she asked, “You recorded everything I said?”

  Smiling he answered, “Not everything. Only what I thought were the good parts. So, what does it mean?”

  Her face becoming even redder, she told him. “An open mouth often catches a closed fist!”

  Hank burst out laughing. “I just love the Irish. They definitely know how to make a point.”

  “Hank, please erase what I said. Mind you, I’m not sorry I said it. I’m just sorry I said it in front of witnesses. I get enough kidding from Joel about my temper. I don’t need anyone else jumping on the band wagon.”

  Still laughing, he held up the phone so she could see he was deleting what he had recorded. Jerking his thumb at the door he said, “Out.”

  As she closed the door behind her Hank was still laughing. Smiling to herself she thought, “I’m sure glad he didn’t record some of the really good parts. I don’t think I would have had the nerve to translate.”

  Chapter 44

  -Chicago-

  When everyone returned to Sentry’s conference room in their headquarters building in Chicago, Hank was still in his office with the door closed. Barbara glanced over at Perry, but he was looking at some notes, presumably fo
r this meeting, and didn’t catch her look. She leaned over and whispered to Joel, “I sure hope I don’t make more of a fool of myself than I have already, but if those notes he’s looking at are for round two with me I’ll probably be asked to move on before the day is over.”