Chapter Five
Family Matters
Wednesday, July 1, 2026
3:00 p.m.
It was early afternoon on Wednesday. Jake Dobrowski sat at his desk thinking about the upcoming evening that would find him attending his son Kenny's music recital. Kenny was proving to be a budding pianist and would be taking on a difficult piece of seventh grade music. Jake knew his son was looking forward to having him there. Twice before he had missed recitals: once due to a client surveillance request and another the result of too much cocaine during his normal late afternoon fix. This time he had made sure that nothing was on his calendar for the evening and he had learned to be really careful with his injection.
The awkward part would be making small talk with Colleen, his estranged wife. He wondered if she was seeing anyone, hoping that she wasn't, yet feeling guilty about wanting to deny her the opportunity. He knew that he couldn't stop her from seeking another relationship. She was certainly deserving of one, but the thought of divorce left him with an empty feeling of despair. However, she had not yet filed the divorce papers which meant, he hoped, that there was still an opportunity for reconciliation, but there was this gulf between them, an emotional rift that seemed so huge.
Jake understood he was mostly to blame for the break-up but she had also said some hurtful things to him that he could not easily forget. They would just have to make the best of the evening for Kenny's sake and try not to antagonize each other. He thought back on the good times, before his career evaporated, and longed for those family walks they had enjoyed in the sunshine, at Patterson Park Boat Lake. It seemed a life-time had passed since those delightful days.
His attention was drawn to the folded Baltimore Daily Mail on the desk in front of him, conscious of the fact that Colleen would have done some of the editing. His attention was drawn to the photograph of a man's face on the front page and for a moment he could not understand why the face was so familiar to him. Then it hit him. Jeremy Gibson! Jake had not seen Gibson for at least four years, but he immediately recognized the younger man. The headline beneath the photo shrieked at him; his heart felt as though it was about to stop. Gibson was dead!
Jake instantly remembered the envelope Jeremy had left for him and reaching into the desk drawer he rummaged around until he found the badge. Turning it over in his hand he saw the number: 998 - it appeared quite worn and must have been issued many years previously. He searched for the note, found it and read Jeremy's message again.
Finally, Jake mused broodingly, "If Jeremy lost his life in trying to expose Jackson's involvement in a murder then it deserved a follow up!"
A quick glance at the wall clock suggested it was time to get ready for Kenny's recital. Jake had promised to pick his family up at 6:00 p.m. and drive them to the school. After the recital he would offer to take them out for dinner, if Colleen agreed.
He had brought a suit, planning to have a quick shower, change at the office and be on his way.
It was time for the daily dose of cocaine. The initial tremors of withdrawal were already starting to assert themselves on his nervous system. He usually waited until the initial tremors had turned into a shaking before taking the drug; it was his way of showing that he was not happy about being a junky. He wouldn't obsequiously do its bidding—it would have to wait for him.
Jake removed the injection kit, hidden in the bottom drawer of the desk along with a small stash of cocaine and prepared to shoot up.
He carefully dispensed a small portion of the drug into the cap of a syringe and treated it with twenty units of vinegar. After tightening the rubber tube around his arm to enlarge the veins, he cleaned the target area carefully with alcohol and injected the drug. It took about a minute for the drug to hit his brain, producing a rush of dopamine and a beautiful floating sensation, accompanied by pleasurable, carefree thoughts; then another two minutes to reach the high.
If only I had the guts to stop this, he thought as the high passed and the usual feeling of guilt settled over him.
It was a long drive out to Howard County where they had all lived together before Jake and Colleen had separated. Kenny's education was an important issue for them so Colleen had decided to remain in their jointly-owned house in Howard. It was an up-market area and close to their son's school, making Colleen's commute to work a lengthy one, but she didn't mind the drive.
Jake slipped out of his work clothes and into the small shower adjacent to his office. The hot water fell therapeutically over his head and shoulders as a he sponged away the daily grime, all the while thinking about the cryptic communication of Jeremy's note. He felt a twinge of sadness for the fallen FBI agent and wondered if he had any family. He also thought about the road ahead and the danger it held for him. He had been warned that neither the CIA nor the FBI could be trusted—he'd had previous experience of clandestine, obnoxious behaviors perpetrated by both organizations, while working as a journalist.
Jake stepped out of the shower and began toweling himself off.
Jerry Gibson had balls to do what he had done. Obviously his findings involved the infamous senator and somehow the CIA and the FBI were involved—perhaps a cover-up of some sort. Jake's thoughts were swirling around in his head like a badly aligned, out-of-control carousel.
Finally, all spruced-up, shaven, hair neatly combed, he viewed himself in the wall mirror, remembering the apparition that it had reflected the previous morning. "Looks a bit better," he mumbled as he left the office.
*
It was peak hour. Traffic was homebound on the Baltimore National Pike highway. The Pike is one of the main arteries, connecting Baltimore with Ellicott City and part of the Baltimore metropolitan area highway system. In the wake of the old Mercedes diesel, a heavy trail of gray smoke floated upward, obscuring the view of motorists who were unfortunate enough to be traveling behind it. The Mercedes was now nineteen years old and the first car he had ever owned. Unlike the more modern vehicles that used auto self-drive systems, Jake had to drive and park his car manually.
Oblivious to the cloud of smoke behind and the curious gaze of onlookers, he stared straight ahead, hoping that the traffic police would not pull him over for polluting the air. He knew his car was in need of service but money was really tight—things would get better soon, he assured himself.
Jeremy's note had aroused something deep within his psyche. Could it be hope? Was his luck about to change and free him from the carnage of the past?
Just beyond the Columbia Pike interchange, Jake turned off onto St. John's Lane, toward the home that he and Colleen had purchased shortly after they were married. Colleen and Kenny were waiting impatiently on the front porch as Jake turned in and stopped the car in front of the double garage; he was already ten minutes late.
Kenny ran down the steps to the car and without greeting blurted out, "Can we take Mom's car...please, Dad?"
Colleen sidled up to the driver's window and said, "It's fine with me, Jake. You know how easily a fifteen year-old can be embarrassed in front of his friends!"
Jake grinned and feigned a hurt look, "You don't like my old car, Ken?"
Kenny looked a little embarrassed. "It's not that, Dad! I just like Mom's car better because it drives itself."
"Not a problem, son. Give me a second to park the old jalopy and I'll be with you," said Jake cheerfully. He also certainly preferred Colleen's newer BMW to his almost derelict antique. It was also expedient not to embarrass his son by arriving in a cloud of smoke.
There was only small talk on the drive to Howard County High. Jake could tell that Kenny was nervous and Colleen seemed a little preoccupied with the GPS screen, making sure that the auto-drive was choosing the shortest route to the school. When they arrived at their destination Kenny bid a quick farewell and disappeared to be with his friends, leaving Jake and Colleen to find seats in the auditorium. When they were seated Jake felt a strong inclination to take her hand but after a second thought he suppressed it and decided to open
the conversation.
"So, how are things at the office?" he asked casually.
She turned slightly in her seat, smiled pleasantly and looked at him, "Pretty hectic, I must say. We've been covering the ongoing debate on the fossil fuel phase-out. There have been some heated discussions in Congress regarding the timeframe."
Jake agreed, "Yes, I believe so. I've been following some of the stories in your paper. Great job on the editing."
The seats were the usual standard school issue, with no arm rests, so everyone sat in very close quarters to one another. As they leaned into one another to better hear their words, their shoulders touched and Jake could smell her perfume—Chanel No. 5. It had always been her favorite. For an instant he was transported back to the earlier days of their relationship as he drew the beautiful fragrance into his lungs, allowing his olfactory senses to fully appreciate the dusky sensuality of the moment.
She stiffened slightly, sensing his thoughts, and raised her eyebrows, a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.
Jake could not help himself, "I miss you," he said softly.
She drew back in her seat and said, "Me, too, Jake. But we've been over this before. Please, let's not dig it up again."
"Are you seeing anyone yet?" he asked innocently.
"I've had a few offers but nothing that I would care to talk about." Her voice held a trace of coldness. "Besides, there's our son to think of, and I know that our separation touches him very deeply."
Jake responded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Indeed, it does. I feel totally responsible for his hurt. I know I've failed you both miserably, but what if I told you something has come up that might change things for us?"
Colleen narrowed her eyelids slightly.
"I am prepared to listen, but not right now. We can talk about it afterwards."
Jake nodded and leaned back in his chair. The first recital was due to begin, and he looked forward to hearing Kenny perform. He hoped that he was not putting the cart before the horse by telling Colleen about Jeremy's note. After all, she would remember the article on the FBI operative's death; she had done the editing. She was also covering the Congressional debate regarding fossil fuels, a debate in which Senator Jackson's voice was distinctly being raised in opposition to oil's phase-out timeline.
A part of Jake's rationale feared Colleen's response to his getting involved because it would be dangerous. However, to positively nail Jackson, if that were possible, would change everything in their lives. To this end Jake settled himself to try and win his wife over. For the first time in years he felt that life would get better, so much better that it made him smile inwardly in anticipation.
Kenny played his piece with artistic precision, interpreting it with a maturity beyond his years. Both Colleen and Jake were pleased beyond expectation and particularly so when Kenny won first place in his division.
On the drive home it was plain to see that Kenny was gratified at having played so well. To have had both his parents there together, also made it a memorable occasion he would not quickly forget. On their arrival back home, with the evening being still reasonably young, Colleen invited Jake in for coffee and dessert.
Kenny, sensing that his parents wanted to talk about something, made an excuse and retired to his room.
"Call me when dessert is ready," he called over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs.
While Colleen busied herself in the kitchen, Jake marshaled his thoughts, wondering how he should broach the subject of Jeremy's note. She pre-empted him, however, by asking, "Does this have anything to do with that FBI agent's death?"
Jake was shocked that she had tied Jeremy's death to the subject of their previous discussion. "Yes, it is directly related. I'm surprised that you picked that up."
"I did the editing on the press release," she offered. "Also spoke to the spokesperson at the FBI. I remembered that you had met with this Jeremy Gibson just before the Jackson trial. Not too difficult to put two and two together."
Jake leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms.
"Jeremy Gibson broke into my office on the night that he was murdered. He left me a package!"
Colleen stared dumbfounded, "Left you a package?"
Jake continued, "An envelope containing an FBI badge that belonged to Tony Underwood who mysteriously died during the Jackson trial. It would appear that Jeremy suspected Jackson in the death of Underwood."
"I remember the story of Underwood's death—he was found dead in his car," Colleen mentioned thoughtfully.
"Jeremy's note urged me to follow up on Jackson's involvement."
Colleen did not look happy. "Jackson is an extremely dangerous person. He almost destroyed you before."
"I won't make the same mistake twice," said Jake.
"I know it's dangerous, but it could also give me my life back. It would give us our lives back!"
Jake was warming to his theme. "Just think, Honey, what it would mean to us if I could actually nail the bastard for a murder, and besides, I owe it to Jeremy."
He had not used an affectionate endearment since they had separated, but it sounded right, and had a good feel to it. He could see by the look on her face that she shared some of his sentiment. There was a gleam in her eyes, perhaps the overhead light or maybe it was a tear. She appeared to be thinking about the possibilities that they might become a family again.
Colleen had picked up on the fact that Jake did not smell of stale beer as he usually did when he visited. Something was definitely different about him and for a moment, she speculated that the old Jake was standing there talking, just like old times. She had no idea that he was dependent on a drug to keep him sane.
∞∞
Chapter Six
The National Security Council
Wednesday, July 1, 2026
8:00 p. m.
Cassie Williamson and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Hollings, strode into the Oval Office with feelings of trepidation. Both men knew that they were about to deliver the worst possible news to the National Security Council, all currently gathered in the President's office for a briefing.
All the Council members were immersed in conversation until Williamson and General Hollings entered the room. These discussions abruptly ended as the two men took their seats. Suddenly the Oval Office became very quiet.
The President cleared his throat and collected his thoughts before greeting the Council.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation. I believe General Hollings has some bad news and will be briefing us."
The President cocked his head to one side and gave Hollings an enquiring look.
Hollings cleared his throat, feeling like the original sacrificial lamb, "It troubles me deeply to bring this news to the Council but we have lost contact with a strategic mobile nuclear weapon."
The Secretary of Defense looked uncomprehendingly at the General, "Lost contact with a strategic mobile weapon? What are you talking about, Jimmy?"
Jimmy Hollings wished that the floor could open up and swallow him but he continued with a steady voice, "We've lost contact with the Cerberus satellites."
A deathly silence followed. Everyone stared at each other for about ten seconds, absorbing the General's statement. Cassie crossed the void and began the explanation of what had transpired on the night shift at Peterson Air Force Base. It was thought that one of the console operators had perhaps duplicated an access card which had then been used to gain access to change the signal.
The Council was shocked to the extreme. Vice President Basil Horne stood up to get everyone's attention. He ranted for a full minute about the lack of security at Peterson and suggested that Base Commander General Rodgers should be relieved of his duties. He then ran out of steam and sat down again.
The President waited for a moment and then asked General Hollings, "Gaining access to the system is one thing but using its military assets is entirely another. There is surely no way anyone can get control of the central c
ommand computers onboard each satellite. We are still protected by the second half of the procedure, aren't we? I remember in the initial briefing that cipher codes and iris scans are required to arm the satellites."
General Hollings felt a small measure of relief. "Yes, sir, that is true, but whoever accomplished this act will most likely know that."
Cassie jumped in, "We have all the IT experts working on this, but unfortunately it will take some time before we know exactly what has happened."
"Do we have any idea where this console operator has gone?" asked the President grimly.
The Chief of Staff handed over a file to the President. It contained Staff Sergeant Ensley's entire life history.
Cassie hinted softly, "It seems as though this Ensley had some tragedy in his life. Maybe it was enough to send him over the edge and make him mad at the world."
The President opened the file and quickly glanced through it. "I see what you mean, however, it also takes a certain type of person to commit an act of treason!"
"We have initiated an alert throughout the entire country but with help, he could have easily slipped out on a charter," Hollings pointed out.
Cassie, raising his voice added, "Ensley can't be working on his own but he doesn't appear to be the type to negotiate with terrorists—assuming the worst scenario."
The President stood and walked over to a window. "And no one has taken responsibility for the system yet?"
"We have no formal contact with any person or group who claims to have control at this time but I 'm sure we will hear something shortly," said Cassie.
"If somehow, God forbid, an organization could gain access to the cipher codes and the iris scan procedure, would we be able to defend ourselves against Cerberus?" asked the President thoughtfully. "Could we shoot those three bastards out of the sky?"
"Unfortunately, Cerberus is a very well protected system. It has a sophisticated array of weapons that can detect any approach. The protection system can be managed by anyone who has gained access to the general system," said General Hollings, relieved that the worst of the briefing was over.
The Helium-3 Conspiracy Page 4