by Sue Knott
Kim and I hadn’t gotten together nearly enough in the last month or so – which may have been a good thing. I wanted so much to tell her about everything that was going on with me – and I knew I shouldn’t. I felt that the more people knew about what I was up to, the more danger they might be in. I just couldn’t put anyone else at risk. As it was, the robbery had me worrying I might be putting my roommates at risk, though I had no way to know if that were true.
I didn’t have to worry about my roommates for long. The robbery really freaked them out. On Sunday Emma told me she was going to move back into her parents’ house. Olivia used the breakin as an excuse to ask her boyfriend to move in with us.
Olivia was one of those girls destined to always date assholes. She was attracted to them. They were attracted to her. She and her current boyfriend were a match made in hell. He treated her like garbage. She acted like a spoiled brat when he was around. I wasn’t about to put up with their constant fighting. I nixed the idea of him moving in. So, she made plans to move into his apartment instead.
While I was happy not to have to worry about endangering my roommates, I was going to miss them. Working alone. Living alone. Life was just getting worse by the minute. So, I got a dog.
Ozone was a mutt I picked up from the SPCA. They didn’t know anything about his past, but they said he had a nice, calm disposition. I called him Ozone because he insisted on sleeping with me (mostly, on top of me). That kept me nice and warm. I figured “Ozone” was a better name than “Heating Pad.”
Ozone was a perfect pet. He was cuddly, but not jumpy or yippy. He obviously had some German Shepherd in his lineage, so he was fairly large and, hopefully, intimidating. It was love at first sight for the both of us.
I’d only had Ozone a few days when I got a call from Bill. He asked if I could meet him for lunch that day. There was something very all-business about his tone. When I arrived, he was waiting for me with an attractive, middle aged woman. I could see the slight bulge of gun under each of their suit jackets.
“Rachel, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Amy Willis of the FBI.”
“Nice to meet you, Amy.” I tried to look slightly surprised and curious. Since that was the way I was feeling, I think I pulled it off.
“Rachel, I have a confession to make.” Bill cleared his throat. I could see this wasn’t exactly easy for him.
“My name is Bill Braxton, not Bill Burton. I am also with the FBI. I wasn’t able to be completely honest with you and Kim because I was working undercover when I first met the two of you.”
I was dazed. Bill was coming clean. What could this possibly be all about?
“You were investigating someone at Kim’s office?”
“No, Rachel, Bill was investigating you.”
“Me! Why would the FBI be investigating me?”
“Amy didn’t mean you personally, Rachel. We’re investigating your employer.”
“I’m self employed.”
“Your client then.”
“CussedEmOuterwear.com?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We’re not at liberty to disclose details of an ongoing investigation. But, we were hoping you could give us some information about your client.”
“Such as?”
“Tell us what you know about the people you work for. What their goals are. What you do for them.”
“I work strictly through e-mail. And it’s all confidential. I have a nondisclosure agreement.” I was so glad that Amir’s involvement had been cut short so quickly. There should be no trail linking CussedEmOuterwear.com to him in any way.
“We have reason to believe they might be involved in counterintelligence.”
“Counterintelligence? Like stealing government secrets?!”
“Exactly.”
“Are those Glyphs stolen from the government?”
“No. We don’t think that.”
“What do you think?”
“We don’t know what to think, Rachel. But, the activity on their website appears suspicious.”
“Suspicious, how? I designed that website! There shouldn’t be anything suspicious about it. ”
“It’s not the website per se, but the activity on it. There’s communication from all over the globe. Some of it is originating from within enemy nations.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy to explain. The site allows anyone to post and strives to connect with an international audience. That was one of my given objectives.”
“Still, we’d like to ask you some questions.”
“I’ll try to tell you what I can, but I do have that nondisclosure agreement.” “We could get a warrant.”
“Great. That would probably allow me to talk to you without risking a lawsuit.”
“The problem is, Rachel, that would take time. And we don’t feel we have that kind of time.”
“You’re putting me in an uncomfortable position here, Bill. Clients are very, very picky about leaking information. Besides, I am positive this website has nothing to do with espionage. My client’s intentions are completely honorable. She sees these Glyphs things in her head and apparently other people do too. She wants to create an online community where they can compare notes. You should have been able to gather that from looking at the website. I don’t see why you need me.”
“Rachel, there is a chance that the breakin at your apartment was related to your client’s business.”
“Am I in danger?” I didn’t have to fake the sudden crack in my voice or my shaky hands.
“That’s what we’d like to find out.”
I agreed to go back to their office so we could talk in private. I excused myself to go repair my watery eyes. I left my blazer hung over my chair at the table while I was in the ladies’ room. My micro voice recorder was on in the jacket’s breast pocket at the time.
Chapter 39
Back at the FBI offices, it became evident that they had no idea what the Glyphs were all about, though they had been aware of them for several years. Apparently, the Glyphs had surfaced from time to time in the past, drawing the FBI’s attention. But no one ever pinpointed what they were.
I told Bill and Amy the truth, with omissions. There was no reason for them to know that my “client” was me. They didn’t need to know that Jim or Amir had ever been involved. But, as far as anything else went, I didn’t hold back.
I knew Bill was a conservative and analytical guy. I honestly didn’t think he’d take the Glyphs seriously once he got the full 411. Frankly, I was worried he’d write me off as a total nutcase. I knew he already felt I was too whacky for his taste.
“So, your client wants you to publicize the website to find as many people as possible with this ‘vision’?”
“Exactly.”
“And she thinks this vision is being sent from outer space in order to save our civilization?”
“Not necessarily outer space. It could be inner space. They just don’t think the Glyphs are coming from Earth.”
“Why is that?”
“The general feeling is that the Glyphs hold a message the sender wants us to have. If it were coming from Earth, they’d be in a language someone could understand.”
“And what is this message supposedly about?”
“Most people who ‘see’ the Glyphs believe they have something to do with averting manmade climate change. Maybe a formula for clean energy.”
“Why would space aliens be sending a message about clean energy?”
“Most of the Glyphs community believes that our universe exists inside a host organism…and there could be other universes inside of us. On the website, that concept is referred to as the Horton Theory.”
“What would clean energy have to do with the ‘host organism’?” You could hear the incredulity dripping from Bill’s voice.
“The feeling is that our increased development and energy consumption creates a disease situation. For instance, dirty industrialization may be a cancer or a vir
us to the host organism.”
“So, your client thinks we’re a virus?”
“Possibly. Have you ever seen a virus? They don’t look organic. They look like little space ships. And they change quickly to adapt to conditions. That could be evolution…or that could be a civilization learning.”
“And you believe all this malarkey?”
“Is our conversation completely confidential?”
“Believe me, we’re not going to the media with this.”
“Then, yes, I believe it. Because I see the Glyphs, too.”
I could see this admission got a rise out of Bill and Amy. Perhaps I was the first real, live Glyphs-Seer the FBI ever had in its clutches. I wondered if I’d just made a huge mistake.
“Okay. From the top. You see the Glyphs?”
“Since I was a child.”
“And you think they’re a formula for clean energy because…?”
“Because tied up with the vision are certain feelings. Like the feeling that something the Glyphs will fix is tied up with climate change. Most of the Glyphs community members have been obsessed with climate change their entire lives.”
“But global warming is a crock of bull. No one’s proven global warming has anything to do with carbon emissions. In fact, the temperature of Mars is rising, too. Carbon emissions on this planet couldn’t have a damn thing to do with the temperature rising on Mars.”
“Well, not unless you ascribe to the Horton Theory.”
Bill just blinked at me.
“If our universe is inside another organism…and we’re making the organism sick…the organism gets a fever to try to kill the sickness…everything heats up.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Well, I’ve read that a sustained six degree rise in our average temperature will virtually kill off the planet.”
“And your point is?”
“A six degree fever is about the point where we start to experience cell death.”
Bill literally threw up his hands in disgust at my idiocy. I couldn’t read Amy’s reaction. She had perfected the stone face.
“The bottom line is, I don’t think the Glyphs or our website threatens national security. I wouldn’t work on the project if I thought it did.”
I think they believed I was sincere.
“Now, can you tell me why you think the breakin at my apartment was related to my involvement with the website?”
“In addition to posts from enemy nations, your website is also getting traffic from several known terrorist organizations.”
“And you think these terrorists know I’m working for the website?”
“Not necessarily. Your client has done a very good job of making your and her involvement completely opaque. We don’t think it’s possible to crack that opacity. But, your intruder has given us cause for concern.”
“So, the FBI didn’t hack the system at CussedEmOuterwear.com?”
“No.”
“Then, I’m confused. How did you find me?”
“I was on campus one day when you were distributing t-shirts at UB. I recognized the Glyphs as part of an ongoing, agency-wide investigation, followed you to your car and took down your license plate number.”
“So the investigation you were working on when you first met Kim was an investigation of me?”
“Yes. But, that investigation has been closed.”
“And you’re talking to me now because…?”
“Because of the breakin at your apartment. With the nefarious characters that visit your website, we became concerned there might be a connection.”
“But you don’t think the website can be hacked?”
“No.”
“Yet you think the breakin and the website might be connected?”
“It could just be a coincidence. But, coincidences always arouse our suspicion.”
“But if the website hasn’t been hacked, then the only way anyone could know about my connection to it would be through a leak from the FBI.”
Amy and Bill both shifted in their seats.
“I think that’s highly unlikely. Your case has been handled with the utmost confidentiality.”
“Are there any provisions in place to protect me?”
“At this point, we have no indication that you’re in any danger.”
“What are you doing to find the intruder who broke into my apartment?”
“That’s a matter for the police.”
“So, you’re concerned enough to drag me in here to interrogate me – but not concerned enough to determine if I could really be in danger?”
“Rachel, the probability that you’re at risk is incredibly small.”
“But any risk I’m in would seem to come from an internal FBI leak regarding your investigation of me. That is unacceptable.” I stood up for emphasis.
“What?”
“The police aren’t doing a damn thing about the break in. They think they’re looking for a couple kids who’ll eventually get caught in the act. Nobody’s doing any investigating. I want the FBI at my apartment right now, dusting for prints.”
“It’s been days. The scene’s been contaminated.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass. You said I could be in danger. Your agency could have put me in danger. You are going to collect prints and run them against whatever database of terrorist suspects you have.”
“Rachel, we can’t do that. It’s not our job. Your break in is not a federal case.”
“I thought you said this was a counterintelligence concern?”
“We have no solid evidence linking your breakin to the counterintelligence investigation.”
“If you dusted for prints, perhaps you’d have that evidence.”
“We simply don’t have the resources to investigate paths that aren’t likely to produce high-level results.”
“I’m going to go to my apartment now. I will expect an investigative team to be there within a half an hour. If they don’t show up, I’m sure there are a number of national news organizations that would be interested in this situation.” I stormed out of the FBI office and drove home hoping they would not call my bluff.
An FBI team arrived in fifteen minutes.
Chapter 40
The prints from my doorknob belonged to a local teenage thug with a record of petty thefts. I got the feeling the FBI was too embarrassed to pass this information along to the police. I didn’t mind. I was just glad it was an ordinary, random breakin.
I was also greatly relieved that the FBI thought the Glyphs website was unhackable. That greatly reduced the stress associated with my uncertainty. (Nothing could ever be certain – I had a Rachel’s Law for that – but, there were differing degrees of uncertainty. I’d relegated the website’s security to a high uncertainty level [translation: worry level] initially. Now I could reasonably downgrade it to a lesser level of uncertainty/stress.)
Hopefully all the nefarious elements Bill and Amy mentioned would never be able to track me down. (Unless they had a mole in the FBI. Or they followed me to my car that one day UB…what other possibilities might I be overlooking?)
I was a little pissed at Bill, but I didn’t dwell on it. I figured if he ever found out I was my own Glyphs client, he’d be miffed at me, too.
The conversation captured on my tape recorder while I was in the restroom at the restaurant was rather amusing. Bill asked Amy what she thought of me.
“She seems like a very nice, responsible young woman.”
“Yeah, she’s a straight arrow. But whacky.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s whacky. She just has a very open mind.”
“Yeah. Like I said. Whacky.”
It was just a few days after my FBI run-in that the Glyphs video arrived. I put it on every video file sharing service I could find.
Then all hell broke loose.
The video was a sensation. It got millions of hits. Millions! Glyphs merchandise was flying off the shelves. (I stopped counting how m
any countries orders originated in when I hit 18.) Thousands of visitors worldwide had inputted a correct symbol to gain access to the private side of our site.
While all this was good news for our cause, it was bad news for me. Working 12-hour days, I still couldn’t keep up with the postings or email. I thought about hiring help, but I couldn’t justify putting someone else at possible risk. And I’d be at greater risk with every person who knew of my involvement.
I decided I’d just skim the postings since, in theory, they could sort of take care of themselves. I concentrated on the email. After about a week of slogging through it practically 24/7, I came across this:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: My sister’s Glyphs
My sister has a notebook full of Glyphs. I think she has all the blanks filled in. But, I cant be shure. I dont understand them. My sister is blind. She wants to post the Glyphs but I dont no how.
I think my heart momentarily stopped. When it started back up, it was racing. And I was hyperventilating. Could this be for real? Did I dare dream that we’d be successful so soon?
My first worry was that my email could have been hacked and someone else could have read it before me. Or, would they bother? With thousands and thousands of emails to wade through, would an infiltrator have the time to read them all – or just wait and read through my replies? (I only replied personally to a fraction of the emails. The rest, I tried to address in more generalized postings.)
I figured I’d better do everything in my power to make my reply inconspicuous. I created a standard reply thanking the sender for their email and reinforcing our mission. I made this reply long enough to fill up the entire screen when you first open an email. Then, I sent that reply to a couple thousand people. (Can you say carpal tunnel syndrome?)
Buried within those thousands of emails, I sent that same reply to rhymeswithterry, but I tacked this message on the end:
It is extremely important that your sister’s Glyphs get posted. Can you scan the entire notebook into your computer and send it to me? Also, photocopy her notebook and mail the copies to my PO Box. I will make sure everything is posted.