Mind in Chains

by Bruce M Perrin

  “He doesn’t buy either. And since Forensics has just about ruled out drugs, all we have left is the possibility she’s one in a billion—someone who could buy into the Crusaders’ myth so fully that she would go to her death without a care. That one bothers me.”

  “That one bothers everyone,” Clements responded. “And now, with the rather cavalier behavior of Brother Justice and Sister Prudence immediately before they commit mass murder, we’ll be working that issue even harder.”

  “He also thinks we’re not going to find a match to Justice and Prudence in our databases.”

  “I’m not taking that bet,” said Clements. “They certainly acted like we can’t touch them, but we’ll find out. Word is, we’ve got lots of bloody handprints and footprints from the site. A lot of them will be from the victims, but probably not all of them.”

  Rebecca’s eyes were drawn to the front of the room when she heard the sound of Hawkins’s chair being pushed back from the table. “Showtime,” she said quietly.

  Hawkins walked over to the podium and cleared his throat. “We all know what happened this morning,” he said. His voice was soft, but his naturally deep tone would have carried even without the microphone before him. “The Crusaders executed some of the best and brightest in cold blood. Systematically. Without mercy. But Thursday morning, first light,” he said, his voice rising, “we may have our chance to stop these bastards.”

  These were the words the assembled group had waited for, and a soft murmur of affirmations spread through the room. Hawkins waited for quiet to return. “Given the nature of this raid, absolute secrecy is a necessity. I don’t care if you tell your significant other everything, he or she can wait until Friday to hear about this. And if even a hint of this op makes it to the media, I’ll have the person with the loose tongue checking parking meters on Cardinals’ game days for the rest of his or her miserable career. You got that?”

  A few in the crowd responded with “got it,” but most chuckled at the contrived threat.

  “Seriously, people. Not a damn word,” Hawkins said and stared for a moment as if wanting someone to laugh or make a joke now. When no one did, he tapped a button on the laptop sitting on the podium. A picture appeared on the screen behind him. “This is where we’re going on Thursday—the Evangelical Church of the Rock.” Rebecca would have guessed airplane hangar, had it not been for the stained-glass windows and a cross rising above the front door.

  “It’s a large, nondenominational church sitting out … well, basically, in the middle of nowhere about 55 miles to our west and south. The front three-quarters or so is the church itself. The back part is living quarters for the Reverend Micah Eastin and his wife.” Hawkins tapped the computer again, and a picture of a couple replaced the building.

  “And here they are, direct from the church’s Facebook page. They’re big in the southeastern part of the state—not quite televangelists yet but moving that direction. During the drive on Thursday, you’ll see this same picture on billboards along I-44 as we get closer.”

  The background, props, and pose in the image said professional photographer—and a good one at that. But it was the figures in the foreground that made Rebecca do a double take. These two were clearly a couple of the beautiful people, with dazzling smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. Their attire was simple and sensual, the man’s black knit shirt just tight enough to suggest he worked out regularly. The wife was in white, her blouse also suggestive of her well-developed anatomy. And somehow, the photographer had caught the light just right, making the man’s green eyes appear to twinkle. Regardless of what they had paid, it was a million-dollar shot.

  “When I got the case last Thursday, this church was way down on the list of possible sources of money or shelter for the Crusaders. But by Friday afternoon, we’d accumulated enough intel to paint a very different picture. They are supporters, no doubt, but we don’t know how far it goes. We started surveillance on Saturday, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone we could later connect to the terrorists. Sunday, as you might expect, was pure chaos, with hundreds coming and going. But even so, we have tentative identifications for both Justice and Prudence from those tapes. We’re working to get the surveillance images enhanced, firm up these IDs.”

  “How good are they?” came a voice from the back of the room. Rebecca turned but couldn’t pick out the speaker.

  “Think the 70 to 80 percent level,” said Hawkins smoothly.

  “Did the fact that the Crusaders spared the priest at their latest attack have anything to do with getting the go-ahead on this church?” Rebecca recognized the voice as belonging to Agent Dorothy Williamson. The ten-year, black veteran was something of a role model to her.

  “Good question, but no, the timing was wrong. The search was approved before the attack. Anything else?”

  No one responded, so Hawkins continued. “We’ll be looking for the obvious: weapons, bomb parts, any computer equipment that might be used to post their propaganda.”

  “And we’re looking for Justice and Prudence, too,” came another voice from up front.

  Hawkins chuckled. “Yeah, them too. And the whole gang, if there are others. The warrant also calls out financial records specifically. Since a lot of the church’s money comes in the form of cash, every scrap of paper could be important. Those working the inside, keep your eyes open.”

  Hawkins paused, taking a long breath. “Other than the tentative IDs on Justice and Prudence—and by the way, those came when the two people were leaving on Sunday, not going in. But other than those possible sightings, we don’t know that the Crusaders use this location. Who or what or even how many we will find inside is unknown. We’re trying to get a count on people arriving and leaving, but even if we come up with a number, I wouldn’t give it much weight.”

  Hawkins brought up a floor plan. Even before he spoke, however, another voice came from the side of the auditorium. “Is that scale right?”

  “Should be,” replied Hawkins. “It’s the architect’s drawings.”

  “Then the living quarters are something like ….” The man behind the voice was obviously crunching some fairly large numbers.

  “Just less than 9,000 square feet,” said Hawkins. “Clearly enough to hide a small army. But what I wanted to show you are these double doors on the south side of the building. They’re closed before the service, but at the end, they open them along with the main church entrance on the east. The missus takes one of these, the Reverend the other. And frankly, we weren’t as well prepared for that as we should have been.”

  “What about the door to the living area on the south?” It was the same voice as the first question, Rebecca not bothering to turn this time.

  “They mainly use the one on the east end of the building,” said Hawkins. “The other one may be for emergencies. Anyway, because of the unknown and the size of the space, we’re going in with overwhelming force. In addition to those present, we’re bringing in a bomb squad from Chicago. Supposed to be one of the best in the country. We’ll also be joined by a few agents from other federal organizations that are based here. And finally, we’ll be backed up by local law enforcement during the raid itself.”

  Rebecca glanced at Clements, as a low rumble of discontent rolled through the room.

  “I know. I just read you the Riot Act on keeping quiet, but involving the locals is necessary; we simply don’t have the manpower. To help keep this quiet, only command at the local agencies know anything other than the time of the operation. Yeah, it’s a risk, but it’s the best we can do. OK, let’s get to the details.”

  Hawkins tapped the computer again and a map of the grounds with a list of personnel assignments appeared. Rebecca didn’t bother looking at the teams breaching the building at the main church entrance or the main door to the living quarters. She skimmed the names of the agents covering the south side—the secondary door for the church and the living quarters emergency exit. Then, her gaze went to the north side of the building wh
ere there was nothing except windows. There she was, paired with another, relatively new agent, Randy Blewitt.

  She wasn’t surprised that Clements wasn’t with her. If it were her call, she’d put him on the west, the door to the living quarters. It was, in her mind, the high-risk, high-reward entry point. Someone with Gus Clements’s training and experience would be invaluable in that role. And sure enough, that’s where she found him. Hawkins might be an ass, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “OK, everyone find their name and team lead?” asked Hawkins. After a moment of silence indicating they had, he said, “OK, leads breaching the doors—front, back, or either of the side entrances—find someplace to meet with your teams and review the tactics we’ve discussed. We’ll meet back in my office at 4:30 to review status. One final chart.”

  This time, the picture changed to a local area map showing the church, the surrounding grounds, and a road that wound through a wooded area to the north before spilling into the church’s massive parking lots.

  “The good and the bad of our situation is that there’s only one road to the church—good because there are few escape routes, bad because it’s a potential bottleneck for our ingress. So, to reduce the possibility of a traffic jam, the north perimeter team, Blewitt, Marte, and local personnel, will assemble along the road here.” Hawkins ran the light from a laser pointer along the stretch of road that paralleled the north side of the building. “From there, they’ll move as a unit, maintaining line-of-sight spacing through this brushy area. I understand it’s a bit muddy in there, so dress accordingly.”

  “Are we talking a little damp or a mud wrestling pit?” asked Blewitt.

  “No one’s been through it, but looking in, the guess is it could be up to your ankles. So, like I said, come prepared. Once you radio that the perimeter is secure, Agent Blewitt, the other teams come in by car. The living quarter's team will be first. They’ll drive through the south lot and park outside the west entrance. Then, the teams for the side entrances and finally, the team that will be breaching the front door on the east. To keep the element of surprise, we’ll need to move quickly, but let’s avoid the fender-benders on the church steps.” That got a few chuckles.

  “So, unless there are questions?” No one spoke. “OK, breach teams to your breakout areas and get ready to kick some Crusader butt. Blewitt and Marte, give me ten, and then I’d like to see you up here for a moment.”

  3:17 PM – The Offices of Ruger-Phillips

  I placed the receiver back on the hook and stared at my office wall a moment. The company with the new maintenance training application had balked at a study using the actual equipment. It was pricey and heavily used, so taking a console out of service for this research was a last resort. I wasn’t really surprised. But the option of using the computer model of the equipment and a human in place of the computer-generated, artificially-intelligent technician? To them, that was a no brainer, and they readily agreed. They’d provide the application with the virtual technician muted, routing its dialog to a tablet seen only by the role-playing human. They’d even offered one of their experts as the role-player and I’d accepted.

  Now, I needed to think about the instructions to this person, because the last thing I needed was for him or her to go off script, doing something the AI couldn’t. Even in my limited experience, I’d seen people in this kind of situation do things unconsciously. If the next step for the trainee was to remove a screw, their wrist would twist. Their eyes would accidentally move to the next component to be tested. Their head would jerk when the trainee reached for the wrong tool. And even with the best instructions, I’d probably need to videotape each session and review them later. On the other hand, the positive side of using experts was that they’d notice any incomplete or inaccurate information provided by the AI. The company said that was impossible, but it was worth a double check.

  My ringing phone interrupted my thoughts. I glanced down and smiled at the name on the display. “Hi, beautiful.”

  “Hi, Sam,” Nicole responded after a soft titter. “I wanted to know if you were free for lunch on Wednesday? Say, come by here at 11:30?”

  “Sure. Now let’s see. It’s not an anniversary for the first time we ….”

  “Sam Price,” she replied, trying to sound cross. “Not on the phone.”

  “I was just going to say, the first time we told your parents we’re engaged, but I guess that will be a first and only time, huh?”

  “Better be,” she said. “Anyway, Laura called, wanted to know if you and I would like to go to lunch with her on Wednesday.”

  “Laura? You’re talking about Dr. Laura Greenwood? The one who can’t get her head straight enough to answer a few, simple questions?” Mostly, I was joking, but I was somewhat surprised, too. It was a rapid turnaround.

  “One and the same.” There was a pause, and when Nicole continued, it was in a more serious tone. “I have to admit, I’d started wondering if her problem was something more than what happened at my apartment, the way she had been so preoccupied, like she was mad at the world. But she was in a totally different mood today. She was all apologies for the delays. She even made the lunch reservation for us.”

  “Great. So, it’s a date. You, me, and the new and improved Dr. Greenwood on Wednesday.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you after work.”

  “Nicole, wait. You have a second?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You’ve heard about the latest Crusader attack, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, the excitement in her tone replaced by resignation. She released a long sigh. “In fact, it’s about all I’ve heard this morning—about how we’re such an obvious target. But if you search for biomedical engineering online, you’ll get dozens of hits in St. Louis. And that’s just one of the many industries that support medicine. The Crusaders aren’t after small fish like us. They want to knock off the big names, get a reputation no one can forget.”

  She’d obviously used these arguments before, probably with her officemates. “True, but you add the word ‘research’ to the biomedical engineering search,” I replied, “and the hits shrink to two or three. I’m just saying, you and everyone there needs to stay vigilant until they’re caught.”

  Nicole sighed again. “Yeah, I know. And we are. Building management has put the facility improvements on hold, so that’ll get the unfamiliar workmen out of the halls and roaming around the outside. And they’re adding a security service starting next week. That meet your approval?”

  Nicole was about as stubborn as anyone I had ever met, so her refusal to be chased from her place of employment by a hate group came as no surprise. “Well, if I can’t get you to hire a bodyguard and wear a Kevlar vest to work each day ….”

  A quiet laugh came through the phone. “Are you applying for the bodyguard job?”

  “I would, but I’d be ogling the client rather than watching for threats,” I replied, then turned serious. “It’s just that I don’t want to lose my new roommate, now that I’ve found her.”

  “You won’t,” she said. “I’ll be careful.”

  “All I can ask.” Actually, it wasn’t, but it was all I was likely to get. “See you at home tonight.” We disconnected.

  3:37 PM – The St. Louis FBI Field Office

  It took most of the ten minutes Hawkins had given himself for the raid teams to get organized. But eventually, they left the auditorium to discuss tactics and to assign individual roles and responsibilities. Hawkins reviewed a few papers and then waved for Rebecca and Agent Blewitt to join him.

  “This won’t take long,” said Hawkins. “There are two main things you need to worry about: first, getting into position without giving away our presence and second, holding the northern border of the church grounds for the duration of the operation. Since the bulk of your team is local law enforcement, you’ll be working with unknown quantities. You’ll need to impress upon them the importance of steady but quiet movement, maintaining their spacing while
in the woods, and holding the perimeter until the all clear is given.”

  “How much help can we expect?” asked Blewitt.

  “We’ve asked for nine people,” replied Hawkins. “So, with you two, we can keep the spacing under ten yards. I want you two on the ends of the line, Marte on the east, Blewitt on the west. The brush is thick enough that you won’t be able to see more than a couple of people, but that should be enough if everyone watches their neighbor. The other thing you need to stress to the locals are the rules of engagement. There’s to be no use of deadly force except in self-defense or in the defense of another agent or officer. You hear any grumbling from them, you see any rolls of the eye, you sense any hotheads, then that person sits it out. I don’t care if the whole line is just you two, I don’t want any innocents getting shot. That clear?”

  “It is,” said Rebecca, while Blewitt followed with a “Yeah, got it.”

  “Good. Last thing I have is navigating the woods. Either or both of you miss your mark and the line gets pinched or spread. So, from your starting point on the road, you’ll need to walk at a heading of 215 degrees until you reach the church grounds. That will place Marte at the northeast corner of the grounds and Blewitt at the northwest.”

  “Two-hundred, fifteen degrees?” said Rebecca. “Not GPS coordinates?”

  “We considered GPS,” said Hawkins. “The heavy foliage would cut down on the update rate and accuracy. Then, there’s the weather forecast—heavy cloud cover with light rain. Should be good for stealth but another negative for GPS. Since the woods are only about 50 yards across, we thought we’d go with a lower-tech approach.”

  With those words, Hawkins pulled two compasses from his pocket. “If you don’t remember how to use these, go read up and practice. That’s it unless you have questions?”

  Neither agent did, so the group broke up. Rebecca had taken a couple of steps, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and turned to find Hawkins.