by Jay Klages
Kade nodded and leaned his chair back far enough that Lerner looked concerned he might fall.
“What’s the name of this operation?”
“It’s best we don’t tell you, for your own protection,” Morris said. “We have to be very careful about our communications.”
“Okay.”
“Jerry is going to give you some customized training over the next four weeks. He’s an expert who’s been involved with dozens of successful operations.”
Kade looked at Lerner, who had put on reading glasses and was busy scribbling notes. It was a good sign Morris had invested in this experienced resource and brought him here.
“I’m going to be your primary contact during the operation,” Morris said. “Agent Chris Velasquez, who you’ll meet during training, will be my alternate and will manage the tactical operations center. We’ll also have DEA and ATF liaisons assigned to the operation due to the suspected cannabis and illegal weapons on the site. So while Jerry is getting you up to speed, Chris and I will be discussing the plan with you, assembling your resources and support team, and documenting our agreement.”
Lerner glanced at Kade over the rims of his glasses.
“Easy as fallin’ off a log, right?”
“Yeah, right.” Kade smiled and got the feeling he’d like Lerner.
“Your cover is going to be very light,” Morris said. “You’re just going to be yourself and use your own name because that’s what will work the best to get you in. The Chapter could easily figure out your real identity through a private investigator or other means, and then you’d be in danger.”
“Makes sense.”
“Your military record said both of your parents are deceased,” Morris said. “Can you share a little more detail on that?”
Kade unbuttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“Yeah, my mom died from breast cancer three years ago. It cut my tour in Iraq short and hit me hard. I lost my dad ten years ago in a hit-and-run. He was a police officer making a nighttime traffic stop when it happened.”
“That’s terrible,” Lerner said, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry you lost your parents like this,” Morris said, “and that I had to ask, but thank you. Do you have any other family members you’re in touch with?”
“Yeah, my sister and aunt. My sister, Janeen, was sixteen when my mom passed, and she moved in with my aunt Whitney and my eight-year-old cousin Greg. It’s worked out pretty well.”
“Where do they live?”
“Up in Peabody, Massachusetts. My sister finished her first year at Amherst and is taking summer credits there. I suppose I won’t be able to tell them what I’m doing?”
“No,” Morris said. “But we’ll get their contact information from you in the event of an emergency.”
Kade nodded. What would Janeen and Aunt Whitney think when he disappeared for a number of weeks? They wouldn’t get his weekly calls. No long visit later this summer. Maybe he’d tell them he was going to take a trip to Oregon with his buddies.
Yeah, that would make Janeen happy. She’d given him crap for being holed up in his apartment for too long. He loved her for that. The age difference between them meant he didn’t take her advice too seriously growing up. But his baby sister suddenly became a friend when his mom was gone. She could knock him down two notches if he acted arrogant. Brighten his mood with her goofy laugh. She probably understood him better than anybody.
Morris stood and stretched.
“You’ll want to remove any evidence of them from your apartment, car, et cetera, over the next several weeks. Photos, letters, stored phone numbers—anything like that. Other than your aunt, sister, roommate, and employer, would anyone notice your absence?”
There was his ex-girlfriend, Darcy. Six-month relationship before breaking up in March, and he still missed her. She resigned at a DC law firm after landing an attorney position for the state of Florida so she could be near her parents in Tallahassee. There was that chance she might call, but she wouldn’t think it was unusual if he didn’t respond at this point.
“No, that’s it,” he said, and after a pause asked, “Won’t it seem suspicious for me just to show up in Oregon?”
“We have a solid plan to address that,” Morris said, “and we’ll share all those details once training gets started. We know the Chapter recruits its members nationally, so we don’t believe being from the East Coast will raise a red flag.”
“You like camping?” Lerner asked.
“Yeah, love it.”
“Perfect,” Lerner said.
Morris sat back down and loosened the knot in his tie.
“Jerry and I are crafting a believable cover story with bulletproof backstopping information that’ll make you even more attractive to the Chapter as a recruit. Your trip to Oregon is going to be in the guise of a much-needed vacation, so you can stop shaving again. And let your hair grow back some. I should’ve told you that you didn’t have to clean up for this meeting, but we appreciate the effort.”
Kade smiled. “All right.”
They continued talking for the next hour. Morris discussed the attorney general’s guidelines pertaining to working with human intelligence sources and referred to a document he pulled from his briefcase, which said the source is never allowed to break the law under any circumstances unless given express written permission to engage in “otherwise illegal” activity. Under no circumstance could Kade participate in an act of violence.
“You’re not an FBI employee,” Morris said. “But I still need you to sign this affidavit saying that we reviewed and discussed the AG guidelines.”
He signed the document and started reading the paper next to it on the table. Morris explained that the FBI would use him as a witness for the prosecution against anyone indicted from AgriteX as a result of the operation. He stared at the page for a minute in silence and then looked at Lerner.
“If this is an organized crime operation and I’m going in with no cover, then potentially serving as a witness, it sounds like I’ll have a gigantic bull’s-eye on my head if all goes according to your plan.”
Lerner drank from his coffee cup and let Morris answer.
“That was the part I was getting to next. Kade, if the operation is successful, you’ll be brought under the witness protection program.”
“I’d like to get that in writing.”
“Yes, that’ll be in your final employment agreement. We’ll have Brian Hutchinson from the Justice Department meet with you before you sign that.”
“And even if the operation is unsuccessful, I’d still like some basic assistance with a name change and covering my moving expenses to live somewhere else.”
“Agreed. We’ll include a modest relocation package limited to the continental U.S. with a comparable standard of living, no matter what the outcome.”
“Okay, good.” Kade jolted backward, making his chair groan on the floor. This whole thing was exciting but a little unsettling.
Getting more complex by the minute.
Morris slid another agreement in front of Kade. “This document is a notice that you must claim any money received for this work when you file your taxes. You’ll receive twelve thousand dollars for participating in the operation, with an additional per diem during the training month.”
Kade paused. Twelve thousand before taxes. Yes, he had already committed. And it really wasn’t about the money. But was the reward really fair for the risk involved?
The witness protection program!
Seeing Kade’s hesitation, Morris added, “There’s some leeway for an additional performance incentive based on quantity and quality of information received. But there are no guarantees and that won’t be in writing.”
That’s better. “Okay.”
“This last document,” Morris said as he laid the paper down, “is your permission for us to speak to your physician about your health. If he validates that your condition is manageable as you’ve said, and you�
�re capable of this kind of work, then his certification to that effect will be good enough for us.”
“No problem.”
After Kade finished signing, Morris said Lerner would contact him the next day to start coordinating training times and a drug test.
“We look forward to working with you, Kade,” Morris said.
“I’m ready to get started.”
“Super. I’ll walk you out.”
Morris escorted him out to the lobby and said good-bye with a handshake. Once outside, Kade strode across the parking lot to his car, got in, and turned up the volume of the iPhone lying on the passenger seat in muted speaker mode. He heard the conversation resume as he drove across the street into the parking lot of the Hometown Suites and reparked.
“Well, what do you think?” Morris asked.
“Looks like I got my work cut out for me,” Lerner said, sounding like he had a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese.
Morris’s voice became clearer with the sound of a chair sliding back toward the table, where Kade’s second phone was stuck with adhesive to the underside.
“Jerry, I picked you because I thought you might enjoy this one.”
“Take it easy now,” Lerner said. “You know me—if I’m not training, I’m complaining. So what’s the name of this new operation anyway?”
“CLEARCUT,” Morris said.
“You think he’s good enough for the job?”
“As of today, definitely not. But it’s your job to get him ready.”
“Thanks. He looks like a good kid, but kind of messed up, don’t you think? He’s jumpy as spit on a skillet. And the hypomania thing?”
“He tried to get help in the army when most people at his clearance level are afraid to. Then his previous conversations with his chain of command were used against him when he got in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Assault, conduct unbecoming an officer, and disrespect toward a superior commissioned officer.”
It sounded like Lerner was flipping through a few pages of his scribble. “Your note says his last supervisor in the army thought he was belligerent. You worried about that as far as working with him?”
“No. I talked to that supervisor, a Major Steve Echols. He’s the one Sims assaulted. While assaulting your chain of command is inexcusable, Echols seemed like a real asshole.”
Lerner laughed.
Morris added, “And how many of our agents don’t disclose PTSD or other problems?”
“That’s true,” Lerner said. “I’m sure losing his mom didn’t help either.”
“And no mentorship from his dad since high school. Look, I’m not making a list of excuses for him—if we don’t think he’s ready after training, then he doesn’t go. It’s that simple. We’ll get sign-off from his physician before proceeding.”
“He’s going to be too busy to get in trouble,” Lerner said.
“You saw his record. Summa cum laude from MIT in software engineering. ROTC distinguished military graduate. Captain of MIT’s lacrosse team. He was rated ‘Above Center of Mass’ in his first three officer evaluation reports. I’ve done my due diligence and spoken to key people he worked with.”
“He’s smart, and he was determined back then,” Lerner said, “but what about now? Is he gonna be in, whole hog?”
“I trust he’s going to step up and do his best. And you’re going to help him get there. Overall, I think it’s a reasonable investment considering the urgency of the situation.”
“What about that website he was running?” Lerner asked. “The one called Wakethehelluppeople.com. Sounds like some conspiracy theory thing. A little weird, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I know about that. He stopped posting to it three months ago, saying he was taking a break. I’m not too worried about it. In fact, it’s a real strength for the type of background we need. His discussion threads seem right up the Chapter’s alley as far as content they’d find supportive of their views. We know from looking at the website stats that the IP address for AgriteX viewed the website pages dozens of times. And there’re even a few posted comments that also came from that IP address.”
“This is a good one,” Lerner said. “More stealth fighters? How about more socks and T-shirts first?” He flipped pages to another title. “Mr. President, we must change camouflage patterns again.”
Morris laughed. “The next one was really popular.”
“‘Troops die in Afghanistan while Senator Barker plays Angry Birds.’ Whew . . . ouch! Okay, you’re right. This could be helpful. But lacrosse? Shoot, that’s a huge red flag. What the hell kinda sorry sport is that?”
“I’m sure they didn’t have lacrosse where you grew up. Probably just football. What was your team, the Armadillos or something?”
There was a silent pause before Lerner broke into a laugh. “No . . . There still ain’t lacrosse at Lubbock. Soccer and golf now, though!”
They continued to talk until noon, checkout time, and Kade took some notes he planned on destroying the next day. Morris and Lerner seemed like competent and genuine people. Fair. Morris had shown empathy toward his mistakes and used common sense when referring to his separation. That was encouraging. The questions and concerns raised in the exchange were valid as well. It was clear they’d both hold him to high standards, and he couldn’t argue with that.
These guys are the real deal.
He looked at his notes and stopped at Morris’s observation: No mentorship from his dad since high school. While he had always missed his dad, he hadn’t thought about the mentorship angle. His dad, Alan Kenneth Sims, had served as an army infantry rifleman in Task Force Garry Owen, the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry Regiment, after being drafted into duty toward the end of the Vietnam War. Kade’s interest in the army and ROTC came late, so his dad had died before knowing his career choice or seeing him pin on his second lieutenant gold bars.
Sometimes friends from his dad’s old unit would visit and share stories. He learned about the soldiers still on the ground at the end of Vietnam, doing unheralded acts of bravery. This after President Nixon had announced there were no more ground troops in Vietnam. Not surprisingly, his dad harbored resentment for politicians after the war.
He found himself often having the same feelings about the extended war on terror.
Maybe it was genetic.
After Kade was separated from the army, he was almost thankful his dad didn’t have to witness the end of his career. Sure, his dad could’ve provided advice and support, but would it have made a difference in the outcome?
What would his dad think now about his choice? The man who continued to be a street cop so close to retirement because he didn’t want to be behind a desk.
He’d say Go for it.
Kade raised his pocket binoculars—Morris and Lerner were leaving the building, Morris pulling a roller bag behind him. He watched until each of their cars disappeared down Westward Center Drive.
I’ll step up for them.
He pulled his car back into the parking lot of the Residence Inn and went to the front desk. A young red-haired girl asked how she could help him.
“Hi, my name’s Kade Sims and I had an interview in room one-fifteen earlier this morning. I was so nervous—I left my cell phone in there and need to go get it.”
The girl looked at his earnest expression and face dripping with sweat.
“Sure, I can take you back there right now.”
CHAPTER 4
Thursday, June 6
3:05 p.m. (PDT)
Manzanita, Oregon
The Ocean Bakery was in a small building with the same weathered, dark-stained wood siding as most of the downtown shops in Manzanita. After Kade spotted Alex drinking coffee at one of the outside tables, he paused on the sidewalk like he was checking his phone. When Alex signaled with a long rub of the nose, Kade turned around and strolled back toward the beach.
Alex caught up a few minutes later and walked beside him. The s
eventy-degree temperature was refreshing and cool compared to the summer in DC and they were both dressed in shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops. Kade wore a faded red Quicksilver ball cap the FBI had given him. Five hundred dollars in cash and a laminated topographical map of the area surrounding AgriteX were sewn inside the bill.
“I can’t believe you came out to Oregon,” Kade said.
Alex smiled. “Come on, man. Bus twenty-six.”
The reference was to their school bus number and the seven years he and Alex had spent at the same bus stop on Harrison Street until Alex’s older brother, Mark, started driving them both to school. Almost twenty years of friendship, and it all began with the shared talks, pranks, and mutual bully defense at the bus stop.
“If you’d said no, I would’ve understood,” Kade said. “You’re the best.”
“You’d do the same for me, I know. So how’s the campground?”
“Great. It’s plush, not like we’re used to. They have washing machines, showers, and Wi-Fi. I’ve been talking with the tourists and locals. Everyone’s friendly.”
As part of the FBI’s plan, he had stayed at a Kampgrounds of America site in Manzanita, Oregon, since the previous Saturday to establish a verifiable short-term presence in the local area. The FBI had secured him a KOA membership backdated to the previous year.
Unknown to the FBI, Kade had asked Alex to come out to Oregon and stay nearby during the operation, and Alex accepted like a champ. He just felt like he needed personal backup from someone he’d known all of his life. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need it, but like his dad said, Sometimes the only one you can trust is your battle buddy.
They both graduated from Doherty High School in Worcester, and Alex majored in finance at Boston College while Kade went to MIT just five miles away. Alex later became a CPA, working three years for a financial services company before becoming disgruntled. He wanted to get out of the Boston area for a while, and Kade had offered him a place to stay in DC last winter, so he decided to take a risk and morph into an independent tax advisor and day trader. The result was now he could work from anywhere as long as he had Internet and phone coverage. A pretty sweet arrangement.