Trust But Verify

by Karna Small Bodman

  Samantha shook her head and walked forward. “Good morning, Mr. President. It’s nice to see you today. This is Special Agent Brett Keating.”

  Brett stepped onto the white, oval rug with the presidential seal in its center and shook hands with the President. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Brett said.

  The President picked up his phone and said, “Kathy, would you please send in the White House photographer?” He motioned toward the fireplace across the room. “Let’s stand over there.”

  The group moved to the appointed spot as Samantha exchanged a quizzical glance with Brett. A young woman with two cameras slung around her neck walked in and stood in front of them.

  The President joined them and said, “I asked the director to invite you here, Agent Keating, because I know all about your actions in Jackson Hole. I also wanted Samantha here to witness our little ceremony.”

  “Ceremony, sir?” Brett asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I’ll let the director take it from here.”

  The FBI Director stepped forward and pulled a notecard and a small box out of his pocket. “Agent Keating, as you know, we do not publicize the names of individual agents who have performed in specific ways, especially when a court proceeding involving their assignment is currently taking place. Since this threat against the Federal Reserve Conference is such a high-profile case that involved officials from all over the world, the President requested that we arrange this special tribute for you here at the White House. Please step forward.”

  Brett looked at Samantha who was beaming. She nodded to him as the Director read from the card. “The FBI Medal for Meritorious Achievement is awarded for extraordinary and exceptional service in a duty of extreme challenge and great responsibility, extraordinary achievement in connection with criminal or national security cases, or a decisive, exemplary act that results in the protection of the direct saving of life in severe jeopardy in the line of duty.”

  He then opened the box, took out a round medal, and handed it to Brett as the photographer snapped a series of photos. “And so, we present this to you, Special Agent Brett Keating.”

  Brett looked startled and rather overwhelmed as he stared at the medal. “I . . . I’m honored, sir. But I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do deserve this,” the President said, stepping forward to shake his hand again. The photographer took another picture and quietly exited the room. “What you did to disarm those explosives, alone no less, is truly remarkable. We’re all proud of you.”

  Taking a moment to recover from his shock, Brett took a breath and said, “May I make a comment about that, sir?”

  “Of course,” the President replied.

  “I have to admit that I kind of swiped—I mean appropriated . . . Let’s just say there were a couple of device prototypes in our office that were untested. I took them with me when I flew to Jackson. I couldn’t have done any of that without them.”

  “What kind of devices?” the NSC Advisor asked.

  “One looks a bit like a flashlight. It detects explosive material at close range. Without it, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to find those caches in time.”

  “You said a couple?” the Chief of Staff asked.

  “Yes. The other looks like a small hand grenade. They call it a BPE, a bomb pre-emptor. It has a pin you pull before tossing the device where you think an IED might be. It uses electrons to interrupt cell detonation signals. I used it when I thought there was a piece of C-4 higher than I could reach. I tossed the BPE where I thought the cache was, and that must have intercepted a signal. Or our agents on the ground stopped somebody from sending a signal. We just don’t know.”

  “These are prototypes?” the President asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Brett replied.

  The President turned to Ken Cosgrove. “Get with the SecDef on this, will you? This is exactly the type of equipment we need in the field. I don’t know why our soldiers don’t already have these things in their arsenals.”

  Ken said, “To be honest, Mr. President, there are so many products, weapons, and systems being offered to the Pentagon by defense contractors and small companies that it’s hard to test them all in a timely manner. And now with the budget cuts . . .”

  “I know about the budget,” the President said. “But these are small items, so let’s get about it. Imagine how many the Pentagon could purchase compared to another F-35 stealth fighter or a new Apache helicopter.”

  “Understood, Mr. President,” Ken said.

  The Director looked at Brett and said, “So, you appropriated some equipment without authorization. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid I did,” Brett said.

  “Good job. I’ll tell Trevor he’s got an agent who takes the initiative.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Brett said, pocketing the medal.

  The President turned to the FBI Director and said, “Now that the trial of those Russians is approaching, I trust you have all your evidence in order?”

  The FBI Director replied, “We’ve been working overtime to put it together. We have witnesses lined up from Jackson and San Francisco, and we have the deposition of a Russian banker taken by one of our lawyers at Spasso House in Moscow. The deposition was Samantha’s idea,” he said, nodding to her.

  She smiled in return as he continued. “We have cell phone and computer records, travel documents, stock transactions, photographs, and the testimony of the nephew of two of the perpetrators. He was the key to cracking this entire case. Took a lot of courage to testify against his family. But after everything they put him through, it looks like he’s really trying to turn his life around.”

  “Yes, I’ve been briefed on that. How is the young man doing?” the President asked.

  “Pretty well,” Brett answered. “He had a little plastic surgery to change a few of his facial features, but he’s recovering quickly. We’ve had agents with him 24/7, and our lawyers have him prepped for the trial. After that, he’ll be in our witness protection program.”

  “Good work,” the President said. “Oh, and Samantha?”

  “Yes, Mr. President?” she answered.

  “I want you to know that we’ve received thank you messages from almost every finance minister and central banker who attended that conference. They’ve sent not only words of gratitude for the FBI but also offers of further cooperation to track and shut down money-laundering accounts. And several working groups have devised new ideas to track and prevent the proliferation of various weapons systems, especially trades between North Korea and Iran. Pickering is especially pleased with this turn of events as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. We’ve made a lot of progress.”

  “Well, that’s it then. We’ve got another state visit tomorrow, so we all have a busy day ahead of us. Thank you, everyone. And congratulations, Agent Keating.”

  As they walked out, the Chief of Staff turned left to go into his corner office while the NSC advisor walked straight ahead and opened the door to the Roosevelt Room to attend another meeting. The FBI Director, Samantha, and Brett turned right and walked toward the Cabinet Room. Then they took a left down a corridor leading to the West Wing lobby.

  Brett turned to the Director. “Thank you very much for the medal.”

  “You deserve it. Thank you for your service. And thank you for helping to prepare the evidence and witnesses for the trial. Now that its only two weeks away, I doubt you have time for anything else.”

  “You are correct, sir. Our whole office is on it. Along with your top prosecutors, of course.”

  “Well, after we get the convictions—and we will get our convictions, thanks to you all—I may have another assignment for you.”

  Brett jerked his head up. “Already?”

  “We’ll let you finalize everything, and then you can take a few days off. But after that, I want you to come see me. Could be another major threat.”

  “A threat, sir?” Samantha as
ked. “Should my office be involved?”

  “Maybe. It’s too early to tell. But it’s something I’m very concerned about.” They reached the front door of the lobby. A uniformed officer opened it, and they stepped out toward the North Lawn. “Depending on how things develop, I might need both of you on my team this time.”

  FIFTY-SIX

  TUESDAY AFTERNOON, TWO WEEKS LATER;

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “GOOD JOB,” AGENT PAUL BORGES said as he led Otto out of the courtroom through a back door. “The way you answered those questions on cross-examination was right on target.”

  “I was pretty nervous. But I remembered what you said: ‘If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.’ I’m trying to learn to do that,” Otto said with a slight smile.

  “Well, you succeeded. All during your testimony, the defendants just sat there like statues.”

  “I saw that,” Otto said. “That was one of the few times I’ve been in a room with Uncle Vadim when he wasn’t shouting. Then again, I was behind that two-way screen, so I’m not sure if it counts.”

  “I think it does. Even though they couldn’t see you, I’m sure the defendants still knew it was you under the voice alterations,” Paul said, stepping into the hallway. “At least they haven’t seen your new look.”

  “Agreed. Could I ask you a favor?” Otto asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you see the girl sitting in the second row? The pretty one with short black hair?”

  “Hard to miss her. I think she’s been here almost every day of the trial. What about her?”

  “Do you think I could see her? Talk to her? She’s a friend. Was a friend. I’ve talked about her before. She’s the one I went out with in D.C.”

  Paul hesitated and scrutinized Otto’s face. “Do you really want someone from your past seeing what you look like now? The plastic surgery is supposed to change your identity so that no one will recognize you while you’re in our witness protection program.”

  “I know. It’s just that . . .” His voice trailed off. Otto took a long breath. “I want to thank her. She’s the one who told me to get a lawyer and turn myself in. But she wouldn’t talk to me after that.”

  “She was probably just afraid of being connected to all of this. It’s a huge case,” Paul said.

  “I know, but this might be my last chance to talk to her. What do you think?”

  Paul shrugged. “Come into this witness room. I’ll go back in the courtroom and see if she’s still there. If she gave you advice, it doesn’t sound like she’ll be a threat to you. What’s her name?”

  “Jolene,” Otto said with an expectant look.

  The agent nodded and walked back down the hall.

  Otto headed into the sparse room and paced in front of a conference table surrounded by several plastic chairs. Would she agree to see him after everything he had put her through? He knew she was angry about his deception—never telling the truth about his life, his uncles, or the real reason he was in Washington. But he couldn’t talk about any of that. Not until now.

  Suddenly, the door opened. Otto spun around and saw her take a tentative step into the room, followed by Paul.

  “Jolene, you came,” Otto said with a rush of relief.

  “Oleg?” she said, staring at him. “I hear your voice, but I don’t quite recognize you.”

  “They gave me some plastic surgery to protect me from the mafya. Is it that bad?”

  “Bad? No. You just look kind of . . . different,” she said, standing very still next to the agent.

  “I know I look different and, um, I want you to know that I am different. I know I did a lot of dumb things—some were bad things—but after going through all of this, I’ve changed.”

  “How have you changed?” she asked cautiously.

  He looked over at the agent. “Can I tell her?”

  Paul took Jolene’s arm and led her to the conference table. “Let’s sit down for a minute,” he said as he pulled out a chair for her. Otto sat on the other side. He had no idea what he should say.

  “First,” Paul began, “his name really isn’t Oleg. It’s Otto. But that doesn’t matter. We’re changing it. Since he gave a crucial testimony in a case with international and underworld implications, we’re also going to protect him.”

  She nodded as he went on. “He asked to see you, but do you want to see him after today? We try to put our protectees into a whole new life with a new home, a new job, and new contacts.”

  Jolene looked from Paul to Otto. Her face softened slightly. Finally, she turned to Paul and said, “When I first met him, I thought he was a nice guy. And after listening to his testimony, I don’t think I was wrong about that. It was obvious that he hated living with those sick men. But I never found out why you were looking for him. And not knowing worries me.”

  Otto held his breath, wondering how much Paul would tell her.

  “Let’s just say that we had reason to believe he was involved in activities that turned out to be minor compared to his uncles’ plans for that conference. Plans that Otto had nothing to do with. So, when he came in to cooperate with us, we decided to start with a clean slate.”

  A clean slate. Otto really liked the sound of those words. He wondered if he could ever make a clean start with Jolene.

  “I see. You really did do a great job at the trial,” she said, looking at Otto again.

  “Uh, thanks. But it wasn’t just me. All those other witnesses were really good,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “The case they put together was so compelling, especially that deposition from the Russian banker.”

  “I thought Vadim was going to have a heart attack when they played it,” Otto said.

  “And that meek little post office worker they flew in from Wyoming. He was kind of clever,” she said. “And the woman from the Snake River Spa was very descriptive when she repeated the conversation she overheard about the tram as she gave Vadim a massage.”

  “Serves him right. He never treats women well. He treated Lubov and Stas the same way, which is probably why Stas broke down and ratted him out,” Otto said.

  Jolene looked like she was relaxing now. So was he. Otto carried on the conversation as Paul sat back and listened. “I still can’t get used to my face. At least the bruises are almost gone.”

  “I think you look good. The doctors did a great job. It’ll take a while to get used to, though,” she said.

  “Actually, I think getting used to my new name will be difficult too. That is, if you ever want to see me again.” It seemed like a full minute passed before she answered.

  “Am I allowed to see him?” she asked, turning to Paul.

  “We have protocols to read in certain people if all parties agree. But there are strict rules. We can brief you if there’s an agreement here.”

  She paused and then nodded. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try and be friends. I trust the FBI.”

  “All right then. I’ll let you two talk while I get some coffee. Want any?” Paul asked.

  “Sure, thanks. Just black,” Otto said.

  “Same for me. Thanks,” Jolene said.

  When Paul had left the room, Otto said, “Thank you. I was afraid I’d never get to tell you that you were the one who gave me the courage to get a lawyer and go to the FBI. You’re also what I’ve been thinking about throughout this whole nightmare. I know I did some bad stuff, but I never really hurt anyone. There are things I’ll always regret, but I’ll never regret meeting you. In fact, I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I hope you believe that.”

  “I want to,” she said. “But it’s difficult. I only just learned your real name. Part of me might always worry that I’ll never be able to fully trust you.”

  “I understand. I will do whatever it takes to reassure you that you can. In fact, you’ll be the first person I share my new name with. They said I could pick one, and I thought a new name would be easier to get use
d to if it started with an ‘O.’ So, I did a bunch of research, but there weren’t a lot of names I liked. I looked up ‘Oliver’ and came up with Oliver Wendell Holmes, who was on the Supreme Court. But I didn’t like some of the things he decided. So, I researched some of the other judges on that court, and I came up with Owen Roberts.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He was pretty smart. President Coolidge asked him to investigate a huge scandal.”

  “Which?” she asked.

  “Back then, they called it Teapot Dome. Had something to do with taking bribes. Since my uncles were experts at paying bribes, it kind of struck a chord with me. Anyway, another president, Herbert Hoover, appointed him to the Supreme Court. He also did something else I thought was kind of cool,” Otto said with a slight grin.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Did you ever read about what they did with all the Japanese people who lived here during World War II?”

  “They put them in concentration camps because they were afraid they might be working for the enemy.”

  “Turns out that Owen Roberts was one of the justices who voted against Roosevelt’s order to put them into the camps. Since they were Americans and probably not doing anything wrong, I thought that was a good vote. So, I decided to take his name. Besides, I want to become an American citizen.”

  “Here you are,” Paul said, stepping back into the room and handing them each a paper cup. “So, have you made any decisions?”

  “Yes,” Jolene said. “We’re going to keep talking to each other. Where will he be living?”

  “I told the FBI I’d like to get a place not too far from D.C. I guess I’ve always been hoping I could see you again,” Otto said.

  Jolene gave him a cautious smile.

  “We’re going to settle him in Maryland,” Paul said. “We’re already building his new identity.”

  “And they’re bringing my mom over from Russia,” Otto said. “I’ll be taking care of her once I get a job.”

  “That’s really great,” Jolene said. “What kind of job?”

  “The agents have been helping me get a lead on one I really want,” Otto said. “I’ve already had an interview, and it looks like I might get it.” He turned to Paul. “Can I tell her?”