Operation Mockingbird

by Linda Baletsa

  “Initially, Bob and I didn’t hide what we were working on. We thought we didn’t need to. We met on several occasions in public places and it was pretty well known in our circles what we were doing. Bob even went to his paper to pitch a series of articles on the topic. He described our preliminary findings to his editor and folks at a couple of other media outlets. We were hoping to generate interest in hopes of a broad distribution when we were ready to go with the story. Shortly after that, Bob was dead. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”

  “And this is why you’re living … like this?” Matt asked, gesturing at Stephen and their current surroundings.

  “As soon as I heard about Bob’s death, I considered that it might be related to the story, although I didn’t know for sure. I haven’t been back home since. I didn’t even know my apartment was trashed until you mentioned it — although I’m not surprised — and I think it only confirms my fears.”

  Not to mention Matt’s fears. He had felt from the outset that it was no ordinary burglary.

  “Does anyone else know about this?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, one other guy. Another source Bob and I were using. I got in touch with him immediately after I heard about what happened to Bob. I explained to him that we needed to shut down our investigation … at least until we figured out our next move.”

  “Who’s this guy?”

  “I can’t tell you. He’s nervous, very nervous. I swore to protect his identity so he trusts me. But he’s not a journalist, and he’s getting pretty squirrely.”

  “So what’s your next move?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t have a next move, Matt,” Stephen admitted. “Even if I did, you don’t want to get involved in this. I only told you in the hopes that it’d knock some sense into you. Walk away from this. I’m telling you. Walk away now.”

  “Listen, Stephen, I am involved. I made a promise to Bob’s widow.”

  Matt explained his meeting with Marie, the conversation they had and her insistence that he figure out what happened to her husband. “Even if I hadn’t promised Marie, Stephen,” Matt continued. “I still wouldn’t walk away. I’m not going to let you deal with this by yourself.”

  Stephen shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. And this is way too dangerous.”

  “I’m going to help — whether you like it or not,” Matt replied. “If it makes you feel any better about accepting my help, consider this: I’m certainly not going to let go of such a potentially great story. Now you can let me go off half-cocked and try to investigate this on my own, which you know I have a tendency to do, or you can tell me what I can do to help.”

  Stephen stared at Matt intently for several seconds. “Alright, Matt,” Stephen finally replied raising his hands in surrender. “You win.”

  Matt grinned, but he wasn’t quite sure he should feel like a winner.

  “So, what’s the next step?”

  Stephen sighed deeply and shook his head. “I told you, I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “If what you’re suggesting about Bob is true, shouldn’t we go to the police?” Matt asked.

  Stephen got up and began pacing in front of the chairs as he considered this. “No,” he finally said. “We can’t go to them yet. I don’t have enough information. I don’t have any real proof.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “I don’t know.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But I’m working on it. I have some ideas but I need some time.” He collapsed back into his seat with a sigh.

  A long silence followed. The only sound came from the click of the bocce balls in the background and an occasional hoot from the table of old timers exchanging stories.

  “It’s late,” Stephen finally said slapping his thighs and sitting up. “You’ve got a lot of information to absorb — and I still have some additional information I need to get. I think maybe we should call it a night.”

  “Okay. But, Stephen, come back with me tonight,” Matt said. “You can stay at my place.”

  “No, that’s not necessary,” Stephen shook his head. “I’m good. I have a place to stay — it’s not the Ritz but I’m okay.”

  “Come on, man,” Matt said. “I don’t like the idea of you out on the streets on your own — especially after everything you’ve told me.”

  “Matt, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But, I think it’s better for you — and me — if we aren’t seen in public together. Whoever got to Bob hasn’t found me yet, although not from lack of trying judging from what you tell me about my apartment. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “But —”

  “No, Matt,” Stephen responded. “I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have. I’ve got some things I have to do. I need to figure out our next step. I can’t do that if I’m worried about you.”

  Matt argued with Stephen for several minutes longer, but his old friend was adamant that he would not go home with Matt and Matt was not going to change his mind. He knew Stephen was probably right about keeping a distance, but that didn’t make Matt feel any better about leaving his friend out on his own, especially if things were as bad as he had suggested. The last thing Matt wanted was to have to pay any visits to Stephen’s parents, like the one to Bob’s wife.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  FROM THE MOMENT Matt dropped off Stephen at a spot on the mainland in Downtown Miami, Matt began watching the time more closely. The more he worried about Stephen, the slower the hours seemed to drag. So Matt kept busy as best he could. He continued researching story lines, spending time with Pierre and renewing other acquaintances. He also called Dana to find out whether she had heard anything about Mo’s situation. When Dana called him back, she asked him to meet her at Perricone’s Marketplace & Cafe, a popular restaurant near downtown.

  Perricone’s was built out of lumber from a well-preserved wooden barn built in the 1700s in Vermont. The restaurant’s owner had the barn taken apart piece by piece, transported to Miami and carefully reconstructed on the property. The hand-hewn beams, walls and flooring beautifully complemented the old banyan trees surrounding the structure. The restaurant is a hidden oasis amid massive hammock trees and towering skyscrapers.

  The place was starting to fill up with a lunchtime crowd. Matt asked the hostess to seat him because he knew he was in for a wait. Dana could generally be counted on to be late, frequently very late. Dana didn’t mean to be rude. She just had a tendency to over commit herself and to get lost in whatever she was working on. He was seated in the outside patio at a corner table overlooking the rest of the restaurant. From there he watched the lunch crowd cut deals, settle cases and get to know each other on safe first dates.

  Dana finally made her entrance. She breezed past the hostess stand and stood in the middle of the dining room. Matt watched her scan the room. She spotted him and strode toward the table. On the way, she stopped at two different tables to exchange greetings with people she recognized. When she finally arrived at the table, Matt rose and they exchanged a brief hug.

  “Sorry for being late,” she said as she settled into the chair across from him. “I got dragged into a meeting at the office.”

  She began looking over a menu he suspected she knew by heart. Her brown eyes shone brightly behind her very stylish black-rimmed glasses. Her normally olive complexion was deeply tanned. She was wearing a cream-colored sleeveless dress. It fit snugly against her trim figure. The black sweater that fell loosely around her shoulders and was tied in front only served to accentuate her shapely arms and the swell of her breasts.

  Matt waited for Dana to put down her menu before speaking. He asked about her and her parents. She inquired politely about his travels and his friends. They stuck to the superficial, Matt knowing it was safer that way and Dana likely feeling the same way.

  The waitress arrived and took their order.

  “Were you able to find anything out about Mo?” Matt asked as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

&nbs
p; “Yes. But it wasn’t easy.”

  She went on to explain how the establishment of the Department of Homeland Security was supposed to make the exchange of information among the different agencies easier. Instead, after the purported consolidation of the agencies under one umbrella, turf battles between the famously competitive agencies — the FBI, CIA and Secret Service — erupted. And interagency communication became more difficult. Over the last couple of years, communication and information sharing among the intelligence agencies had started to get better, but the former INS, which was generally considered the red-headed stepchild of the DHS, wasn’t in that communication loop.

  “I appreciate everything you had to do,” he finally interrupted. “I know it couldn’t have been easy. But what about Mo?”

  “He’s being questioned by the Department of Justice,” Dana replied matter of factly.

  “About what? What interest could the DOJ possibly have in Mo?”

  “They want to know more about what he was doing in the Middle East,” she paused. “And his relationship with a terrorist cell located near the Afghan-Pakistan border.”

  “What relationship with a terrorist cell? Mo has no relationship with terrorists!”

  “The Justice Department isn’t so sure,” Dana responded, still maintaining a face that gave nothing away. “They have found some possible links between Mo, the Taliban and this terrorist network. So they picked Mo up when he returned from the Middle East to ask him about his trip and this group.”

  Matt was shocked. He wasn’t sure what he found more disturbing — the fact that the U.S. government had picked Mo up for no reason or that Dana was sitting here so calmly attempting to justify the government’s actions.

  “Dana, first of all, this whole thing is absurd.” Matt leaned in to deliver the words, his voice low and hard. “Second, how can the DOJ just arrest Mo and hold him for several weeks without letting him make a phone call. To his family? To an attorney? That’s completely illegal.”

  “Matt, you’re being dramatic,” Dana said dismissively as she turned her attention to the salad the waitress put in front of her.

  Matt ignored the steak placed in front of him.

  “Mo hasn’t been arrested,” she said in between bites. “He’s merely being questioned. The government has the authority to detain people while they’re being questioned.”

  “I thought only enemy combatants could be detained by the military.”

  “Even American citizens can be detained in the interest of national security.”

  Matt was shocked and dumbstruck for several seconds as he processed this information.

  “How long can they hold him, Dana?” He finally asked. “I heard he’s been missing for weeks.”

  “They can hold American citizens indefinitely. Particularly when they’re considered enemy combatants.”

  “An enemy combatant!” Matt slammed his fork down on the table, drawing glances from the folks at the neighboring tables. “Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous. Mo is not an enemy combatant!”

  “I know that, Matt,” Dana continued after looking at the tables around them, smiling tightly and then leaning in. “But the Justice Department believes that in some cases certain actions, which would otherwise be considered extreme, are necessary to protect national security. As a result certain people can be held indefinitely.” She looked at him earnestly before she continued. “They just need to get some information from Mo, confirm he is what he says he is and then they will release him.”

  “What kind of information? How many questions could they possibly have?”

  “Well, that’s just it. I’ve heard that Mo hasn’t been cooperating. He’s refusing to answer their questions.”

  “Well, I’m sure if he’s refusing to answer questions, he has a very good reason.”

  “That’s exactly what the government is afraid of. They’re concerned it means he’s hiding something — or is actually involved with these groups.”

  “Well, that’s a Catch-22. If he doesn’t confess to anything because he has nothing to hide, then the government assumes he has something to hide!” Matt could barely control his anger. “Dana, Mo is not involved with these groups. He’s not a traitor, and he definitely isn’t an enemy combatant. You know that,” he said urgently.

  “You know Mo,” he insisted when Dana didn’t respond.

  Dana signaled Matt to lower his voice as she looked around the room. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Matt.” She leaned in closer. “But we know that over the last year Mo has traveled extensively throughout the Middle East. Mo has met with several high-ranking officials of the Taliban. And more recently, he has been spending time in Syria.”

  “Come on, Dana. He’s a reporter. He meets with people for a living. He gets interviews no one else can get. That doesn’t make him a traitor. That makes him a damn good journalist.” Matt continued before Dana could interrupt. “If he’s not speaking with the people at the Department of Justice or the Department of Homeland Security or whatever, it’s probably because he’s trying to protect his sources. That actually makes him a journalist with integrity.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Matt. I don’t need the speech,” she said tightly. “I care about Mo just as much as you do and, for the record, I don’t think he’s a terrorist. But he has met with some important people and the Justice Department has every reason to believe that he has information that could be helpful.” She leaned in again and continued in hushed tones. “He could know locations of hideouts, information regarding terrorist cells.”

  “Even if Mo does know anything, and I have no idea if he does, the government can’t force him to disclose that information. So they can’t hold him until he does. Right?”

  “I’m familiar with the concept of freedom of speech, Matt. Journalists generally can’t be forced to divulge their sources. But this is different, Matt. We’re at war.”

  “Oh, jeez,” Matt exclaimed. The smack of his hand against the table made the salt and pepper shakers jump. “If I hear that again, I’m going to …”

  The waitress rushed over to see if they needed anything else. Or, more likely, she was eager to get them out of there. At this point, Matt was eager to get the hell out of there too. He signaled that she could take away his plate — even though he’d barely touched his meal. This meeting had only served to infuriate him.

  But he needed Dana. She was the only person he knew who had connections with the people who were holding Mo. She also knew Mo and had to know he wasn’t involved in anything illegal and she could make that case to the people that mattered.

  “Dana,” Matt began, this time trying a softer, more conciliatory tone. “I visited with his family — his mother, father and younger sister. They are completely distraught. They have no idea what’s happened to him and what they can do to help.”

  Dana was staring at him without expression but Matt thought he noticed a softening around her jaw.

  “You know Mo, Dana. You know his character, and you know he’s not involved with terrorists. He’s a friend and he needs our help — your help. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

  Dana sighed heavily. She looked down at her plate for several seconds then finally looked back up at Matt. “I have some connections with the Justice Department. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Dana, that would be great,” Matt said quickly. “I can’t wait to tell Mo’s fam—”

  “Don’t,” Dana interrupted. “I’m not making any promises. Do me a favor and don’t say anything about this.”

  “Okay, I understand.” Matt said quickly. “But, Dana, I really do appreciate this.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Dana said. “In the interim, Matt, I suggest that you keep a low profile.”

  “Me? Why? What are you talking about? Am I at risk of being picked up as well?” Matt felt the indignation began to rise in his throat again.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Matt. I heard from one of my friends at the commission
er’s office. Suarez knows you’re back in town, and he’s not real happy about it.”

  “I know. He’s already paid me a visit.”

  Dana’s eyes widened. “He has? What happened?”

  Matt gave Dana an abbreviated version of his earlier run-in with the commissioner on the street outside his home. “I knew he’d eventually get wind of my return, although I didn’t anticipate the personal visit to welcome me back,” Matt said. “But you know what? Commissioner Suarez’s insecurities are not my problem.”

  “Unfortunately, Matt, Commissioner Suarez’s insecurities are everyone’s problem.” She scanned the room quickly. “You know better than anyone else what a vindictive bastard he can be. If anything, he’s gotten worse since you left.”

  “Why’s he still fixated on me? I hear he’s on track to win his bid for re-election. He should be satisfied.”

  “Suarez is never satisfied. He’s already strategizing on how he’s going to get back some of the leadership positions and political clout he lost during the investigation. He’s got an ambitious agenda planned for his term and then it’s on to the Senate for him. You know he and his brother have always figured they’d take both seats of the Senate.”

  “They’re not still planning that, are they?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “That would be a pretty ballsy move to go after that seat so soon.”

  “He’s always been aggressive, and now he’s fixated. He’s not someone you want to cross.”

  “I hear ya, Dana, and I appreciate the advice. I’ll steer clear of him.” Even as he said it, Matt knew he wasn’t sure how long he could avoid the temptation of a good target like Commissioner Suarez.

  After they gestured for the check, Dana turned the conversation to their mutual friends.

  “How’s Stephen Cross doing?” Dana asked.

  The question took him aback, especially when a picture of Stephen as he had appeared the night before flashed in his head. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. When Matt and Dana were dating, Dana had gotten to know Stephen fairly well.