The Hidden Truth: A Science Fiction Techno-Thriller

by Hans G. Schantz

  One Wednesday evening in mid-November, I was at home with Mom and Dad when there was a loud knock on the door.

  “FBI!” shouted a voice. “We need to talk with you.”

  Chapter 9: It Takes a Tolliver to Beat a Tolliver

  “FBI!” came the voice again on our front porch. “Open up.”

  “Son, make sure the video surveillance on the front porch is running on continuous capture,” Dad said. Then, he turned to Mom, “Call 911, tell them about our visitors, and ask if the sheriff could drop by,” he added, as he grabbed a small tape recorder he sometimes used to dictate notes. He headed for the front door. I went to the sewing room computer that also controlled the video capture for the security system, unclicked the motion capture mode, and set it to record. I heard Mom on the phone talking with the 911 dispatcher, as Dad opened the door.

  “Yes, may I help you?” I heard Dad.

  “FBI,” one of the men claimed. “We need to ask you some questions. May we come in?”

  “Have a seat on the porch,” Dad offered, “and I’ll be happy to talk with you.” I heard the door click shut behind him, so apparently that worked. I could see shadows through the front windows. I moved closer, quietly, to listen in on the conversation. “I’m sorry gentlemen,” Dad was saying, “but I didn’t catch your names.”

  “Special Agent Wilson. We want to talk with you about the cyber-terror incident a couple of months back,” I heard one of them say.

  “What brings you here?” Dad asked.

  “We’re asking the questions,” the other one said. “It will go better for you if you cooperate.”

  “‘Cooperate’ implies working together, you answer my questions, and I answer yours,” Dad said matter-of-factly. “If you’re not going to answer my questions, I think the word you mean to use is ‘obey,’ not ‘cooperate.’ In any event, I don’t care to answer your questions without my lawyer present.”

  “We’re investigating a matter of critical national security,” Special Agent Wilson said. “If you don’t cooperate you might be charged with obstruction of justice.”

  “I do not think that word means what you think it means,” I could hear a hint of humor in Dad’s voice. I doubt the FBI guys, if that’s who they were, caught it. “Nevertheless, I’m standing on my constitutional right to have my attorney present for any questioning,” Dad insisted. “Shall I call him?”

  “We have the authority here, and you’d better cooperate, or you’re going to be looking at serious trouble,” Wilson contended. “This is a matter of national security. You have no rights.”

  “No, sir, that’s not correct,” my father countered. “It is beyond your power to take away my rights for ‘national security’ or for any other reason.” I heard one of the agents start to speak, but Dad cut him off. “You cannot take away my rights; you can only violate them. I trust you perceive the distinction? Now am I free to go, or am I under arrest?”

  “Your attitude is going to get you in trouble,” Wilson was saying as blue flashing lights illuminated the curtains. I heard a car door slam shut and the sound of creaking footsteps on our porch stairs.

  “Good evening, gents.” It was Sheriff Gunn. “What brings the Director’s favorite special agents back to little ol’ Sherman?”

  “This is a federal investigation, Sheriff” Wilson replied. “We’ll let you know when we require local assistance.”

  “Sure thing,” the sheriff said with an amiable drawl. “Not meanin’ to interfere or nothin’, but your investigation might could proceed a bit more smoothly if y’all kept us locals informed. Otherwise, we locals might get a report of, say, a public disturbance on this otherwise quiet residential street. Then, of course, since we got nothin’ better to do, this being a mighty peaceful little town, out we go for a look-see. And, well, here we all are.”

  “This situation is under control,” Wilson said, an edge growing in his voice, “and we do not require your assistance.”

  “I surely can tell that,” the sheriff said, “so this suspect here has consented to being questioned?”

  “No, actually,” Dad piped up. “I’ve exercised my right to an attorney.”

  “Oh,” said the sheriff in what had to be mock surprise, “well then, I suppose these federal agents must have probable cause to arrest you. Funny, we locals tend to cuff ‘em when we get us a suspect. Read the miscreant his rights. Guess you feds do things a bit differently?”

  “This is outside your jurisdiction, Sheriff,” Wilson said coldly. “Unless you’d like the governor to have a call from the Director.”

  “Now boys, this county is my jurisdiction, every bit as much as yours,” Sheriff Gunn said. “If y’all got business here, why, go right on ahead. I ain’t stopping you. As I see it, though, if this man don’t want to talk with you, you either got to arrest him or let him go. Now, which is it gonna be?”

  There was a long pause. “So help me, the governor is going to hear about this,” Wilson said.

  “He’s mighty hard to get hold of these days, busy as he gets down there in Nashville,” the sheriff said. “But, if you do manage to catch him, kindly remind him it’s his turn to buy the beer next time he comes up here to Lee County lookin’ for votes.”

  The FBI agents – if that’s what they truly were – stormed off. I peeked out the window and saw them drive off in a white van.

  “So,” the sheriff was saying to my dad. “Seems your boy mighta bought himself a heap o’ trouble.”

  “Now, Sheriff,” Dad began amiably, “not that I’m ungrateful for your quick response to our little ‘public disturbance,’ but I just spent the last ten minutes refusing to answer any questions. You interested in an encore performance?”

  “I suppose not,” the sheriff said. “I can control my curiosity.” He paused. “For now,” he added. “Still, this has been the most excitement we’ve had around here in a good ol’ while. What could your boy have done to twist their tails into crapping out this cyber-terror bullshit? With the feds poking about, I figure they’ll be getting to the bottom of it right soon now, one way or another.” There was another long pause. Dad was silent. The sheriff broke first. “You change your mind, you let me know, you hear? Tell that wife of yours I said, ‘Hey.’”

  “Will do. Thanks again, Sheriff,” Dad said. “Good night.” Sheriff Gunn left, and Dad came inside.

  “Thank goodness for the enemies of my enemies,” Dad said to Mom and me. Now that it was over, he looked tired and haggard, noticeably older than I was used to seeing him. “You got that video?” he asked me. We checked. The video wasn’t great quality. The audio had some rustling noises from sliding in the fabric of Dad’s pocket, but you could certainly hear the conversation clearly. “Let’s get these to Mr. Burke.” As he started burning the video to a CD, he told Mom, “Thanks for the call. The cavalry arrived in the nick of time.”

  “More like the other tribe of savages,” Mom said.

  “Oh, and Sheriff Gunn says ‘hey,’” he told Mom.

  “One makes hay while the sun shines,” Mom observed. “Not in dark of night.”

  A couple of hours later, Dad’s radio started to chatter, waking me. I stumbled sleepily down the stairs to find Mom and Dad in his study. “Amit says they’re back. I replied, ‘we know.’ You can fill him in tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Mr. Stinson let me and Amit use the debate room at lunchtime, so we were able to have a private conversation. I brought him up to speed on last night’s visit, and he shared his discoveries.

  “They were hunting these Nexus things,” Amit explained. “They found some. Here’s the report they sent in early this morning.” He opened and unscrewed a pen, pulled out a small scroll of paper from one half, and passed it over to me. I read the small print:

  Incident Report: Sherman Nexus (Category III)

  Sherman, TN

  Summary: Completed Nexus Sweep of Sherman vicinity. Three low-level Nexuses detected. Unable to establish any link to unauthoriz
ed disclosure of Xueshu Quan technology management project. Continuing to Houston tomorrow to sweep for Nexuses there.

  Details: Identified four Nexus locations in vicinity of Sherman, TN as part of continuing investigation of unauthorized disclosure of Xueshu Quan technology management investigation. The following locations show abnormally strong Nexus readings, but not rising to the level of a Category III Nexus.

  Tolliver Library: the library associated with the local community college showed the strongest readings.

  Kudzu Joe’s Coffee Shop: a coffee shop near the county courthouse showed modest indications of a Nexus. Proprietor unable to provide useful information.

  A Private Residence: we attempted to interview the owner, but the local sheriff interfered with our investigation. Owner out of state at time of Xueshu Quan incident, but no apparent connection.

  Berkshire Inn: we stayed in this hotel previously. This is our current local base of operations, so readings are probably due to our own activities.

  Recommendations: Investigate library for links to Xueshu Quan and other proscribed data.

  “We were thinking those Nexuses were places where things are happening to make a change or a difference in history,” Amit noted. “This is consistent. They figured out exactly where we’ve been working.”

  “That’s not good,” I observed. “The EVIL minions were in a white van last night. They must have the Nexus detector in it.”

  “It’s parked at our hotel, or was this morning,” Amit clarified.

  “Worse, they’re totally on to us,” I noted. “You might be able to get away, since they think the signature they’re seeing at your hotel is due to their own presence. I wish we understood how this Nexus stuff worked.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Amit said. “A point of transition. A point of change. A Nexus happens when somehow, someone does something that’s going to make a big change. It’s history coming to a crossroads. But, what I don’t get is how that tells them whether it’s a change for the better or a change for the worse.” He looked as confused as I felt.

  “You need to stop doing any work at all at home,” he insisted. “Any future work needs to take place at the hotel. Or maybe we can spread it around, work at different places so nothing gets localized. Maybe that will make the Nexus signature at your house fade and keep a new one from appearing.”

  He rolled up the message and stuck it back in the pen. “Keep it, I have a box of them,” he said handing the pen to me. “Pass it on to your dad and uncle.”

  * * *

  When I got home, we went through our usual ritual of closing the cell phones in the microwave. Then I shared Amit’s intercept with Mom and Dad. “I’d figured as much,” Dad said. “I told Rob about the events of last night, and I’ll pass Amit’s new information on to him. We need to stop working on this project of yours. It’s become too dangerous. Our best bet is to hang tight, and hope everything blows over. I spent a good part of the day with Bob and Greg at their law office. They have the video of last night’s encounter. Their investigator has been at work, looking into Xueshu Quan. They want to speak with us about it, so we’ll arrange a meeting at their office next week.”

  “Once you headed off to college, your mom and I had planned on leaving this house and moving up to Robber Dell,” Dad said, looking at Mom. She nodded. “Now, we’re going to be making the move sooner, instead of later.”

  “What?” I was aghast. I’d spent my entire life in this house.

  Dad smiled. “Yes, I know,” he said paternally, “but you should never fall in love with anything that can’t love you back – places or possessions. Rob’s place is much safer than our house here in town, particularly if no one knows we’re there. With Amit keeping an eye on EVIL and their minions, we’ll have some warning before they make any move. Nevertheless, I think we’re going to need to pull you from school at the end of the semester, if not sooner.”

  I was too shocked to speak.

  “The important thing,” Mom said to me, “is to make sure you’re safe. And that means we can’t have you going to school where they can get to you so easily.” She’d been creeped out by the sheriff pulling me out of class. “I think we should take him from school now and not send him back,” she was saying to Dad. “He’s just coasting anyway – not taking any real classes. He can be working on college level material if we keep him home.”

  “Let him have his senior year,” Dad insisted, “or as much of it as is safe. His shop, and drafting, and electronics classes will all stand him well in the future. A man should know how to build things with his hands. ‘He who has a trade, has an estate.’

  “Amit’s message said they’re heading to Houston,” Dad noted. “It’s a big place. Lots happening. I figure it will take them a while to check it all out and get back to bother us again here. He can go to school tomorrow,” Dad insisted to Mom. “Then we have Thanksgiving and our trip to Nashville.”

  Mom and Dad had been planning this second honeymoon for months. Now that they’d revealed their plan to go underground in the very near future, and remain there for an unknown length of time, I understood the new importance of this last fling.

  “He can stay with Rob while we’re gone,” Dad observed. “We’ll get an update from Amit, and decide whether he can safely go to school on Monday. He has a couple of weeks left. We’ll let him finish out the semester and then we’ll all vanish together up to Robber Dell.”

  Talk about a change in the course of history. I was about to lose my future. “But what about the spring semester?” I asked. “What about going off to college next year?”

  “Maybe matters will have resolved themselves by then,” Dad explained. “We’ll see. But it’s not safe for you now, living in the open where they can get to you. You’re going with your uncle up to his place right after Thanksgiving. Pack what you need for a long stay. We’ll be joining you when we get back, and then we’ll decide whether you can go back to school Monday or vanish.

  “We’ll move in with Rob and live off the grid for a while up at his place,” he explained. “Rob or one of his buddies can plant a false trail that we’re all on the road together somewhere.”

  “I love your brother dearly for all he’s done for us over the years,” Mom told Dad, “but we are not moving into his double-wide and sharing his bachelor pad with him until you’ve built a proper house for us. I thought you planned on another trailer up there for us.”

  “Rob’s place is more spacious than you might think,” Dad said with an amused twinkle in his eye. I realized then he hadn’t even told Mom anything about the construction project under Rob’s new barn. “This is probably a slow week for him with the holidays and all. If he’s going to be around tomorrow, you should drop by and see what he’s been up to.”

  Mom could tell Dad was holding back something. “Very well,” she yielded. “I suppose I could bake him some cookies,” she added dryly. They both smiled far more than they should. Must have been a private joke.

  “I figure we have a few days,” Dad said. “With Thanksgiving coming up, they’re unlikely to move this week. Feds can’t hardly accomplish anything around a federal holiday.

  “I know Rob will be glad to get you up there full time,” Dad added. “He’s been complaining that the fractional distilling isn’t doing a good job with the noble gases, and he’d like you to try tweaking the process you designed.

  “Rob is going to handle finishing up the Kreuger project for me,” Dad explained, “and, I’m going to have to let him handle the liquid air business without me. I don’t want to draw attention to it if someone is scrutinizing my activities. He’ll probably be happy to have me handle all the office work involved. He can run the compressor rig as well as I can with as much practice as he’s been getting the last few months. Rob’ll be short-handed out in the field without me. He can probably call in some of his buddies, though.”

  “I know some guys at school who might be interested in helping him out weekend
s and after school,” I offered. I was thinking of the shop rats. A few of those guys were real go-getters and handy with tools.

  “Put them in touch with your uncle,” Dad suggested. “But he’ll probably be looking for more full-time help. I’ll run Amit’s note on to Rob. Thank Amit for me, and remind him to be careful when you see him tomorrow. I don’t want him taking any risks either.”

  The EVIL minions were already gone. They’d departed earlier that day in their white van, and they were staying at another hotel in the Berkshire family. Amit traced them to Meridian, Mississippi. They had reservations for Houston for several days following that. Amit could keep track of them through the Berkshire Inn guest database. Somehow, he’d rejiggered their Berkshire Club account so they’d made “Double Platinum.” They were getting deluxe treatment from the chain, free upgrades to suites, and the like. If he could keep them coming back to Berkshire Inns, we’d know exactly where they were and have a good shot at figuring out what they were doing.

  If they were working through Thanksgiving, they must be serious. I hoped Dad was right about our having some time. At the very least, if things went south, we’d have some warning.

  * * *

  After Grandpa Jack died, Grandma Tolliver began inviting us over to her house for Thanksgiving. I got the impression the rest of the Tollivers were not too happy about it. They were all courteous enough, but it was the courtesy of a superior earning virtue by deigning to socialize with their inferiors. I normally just kept my mouth shut, returned the required courtesies, ate the delicious food, and practiced my best behavior and manners.