Bennett shifted noticeably, but he didn't say anything. Frost merely looked at him for a moment before continuing. “With that being said, the United States government is permitted to access any information, private or otherwise, that it deems necessary to protect the nation's national security interests. In other words, the Patriot Act trumps the privacy rule.” She turned to Veronica. “Although your actions were inexcusable and you needlessly and negligently exposed one of our research subject's private information, you've apparently been saved on a technicality.”
“I never mentioned her name. I only described the vision to my mother and uncle,” Veronica said defensively.
“It doesn't matter. Privacy means privacy. You never know who's listening to you or what someone may or may not deem important. In this case, your uncle's with ICE. But what if he hadn't been? What if he'd been an enemy combatant? What if he'd been someone who could've used that information against her? The situation could've been a whole lot worse.” She stared at Veronica for what seemed to be ages, but in reality was only thirty seconds, before swiveling her head between Josh and Veronica. “I want the group in this conference room tomorrow afternoon at 5:30 p.m. We need to further clarify your understanding of HIPPA. The privacy of our research subjects is paramount and must be taken seriously. Is that understood?”
Both Josh and Veronica nodded affirmatively.
“Good, you two can go back to the lab now.”
After the two of them left the room, Frost turned to Kallie. “In case you haven't figured out what this is about, ICE has an interest in your vision. Apparently, it has a whole division dedicated to the paranormal. Do you feel up to talking with him?”
“Do I have a choice?” Kallie muttered.
“Yes, you have a choice. But I believe it's best to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.”
“I agree,” Bennett interjected.
Kallie looked from Dr. Frost to the agent. Though she was apprehensive and had no idea what the agent wanted to know, she agreed it was best to end this now. Surely, she could evoke some rights or something. But ultimately, she understood that if the government felt she had information critical to the nation's security, they would stop at nothing to get that information. “Okay, I'll talk to him.”
“All right then,” Frost said, turning to Bennett. “She's all yours.”
Frost left the room, leaving the two of them alone at the conference table.
“Your Dr. Frost is a no nonsense woman,” Bennett said.
Kallie wasn't sure how to respond to that. Kallie wasn't in the psychology department or any of Dr. Frost's classes, so the woman wasn't exactly ‘Kallie's Dr. Frost.’ But his take on Dr. Frost certainly fit Kallie's initial impression of her. In Kallie's only interaction with her, Dr. Frost had presented herself as a direct-approach woman of few words. But Kallie sensed that Agent Bennett wasn't looking for concurrence on his assessment of the psychology professor. He was attempting to break the ice with Kallie. Ice that he obviously and correctly guessed she didn't want broken. She didn't want to talk with him about anything, not about Frost, not about the weather, and certainly not about her vision. So she stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular and saying nothing at all.
“Listen,” Bennett said. “I want to apologize on behalf of my niece. It wasn't her intention to compromise your privacy. She only told me about a girl who'd had a strange vision. Initially, she didn't mention your name because she had no idea that ICE would have any interest in it. The truth is, not many people are aware that the Department has a whole division devoted to the paranormal—the unusual or strange activity, mysterious sightings. Truth is, we have a broad reach. Not only will we investigate anything we believe could be a threat to the country, but we will also utilize any and every source to aid in that investigation.” He paused, observing her reaction to what he'd said. But there was no reaction. She simply sat there, stone-faced, staring blankly ahead. After a few moments, he said, “Tell me about your vision.”
She remained silent and refused to look at him. What would he do to her after she'd told him about the vision? Would she then be deemed a threat to national security? Would she be placed under constant surveillance? Or possibly killed?
“The vision, Kallie,” Bennett urged.
The silence eventually grew too awkward for her. She got the impression that he could sit there for hours and it wouldn't bother him. Finally she said, “It was only a dream. I must have fallen asleep inside the scanner.”
“Well then, tell me about your dream.”
Kallie faced him. “I don't really remember much about it. There was a building explosion. People were running everywhere. That's about all I can remember.”
“Try to recall something else. A place, a person, a time, anything,” Bennett said.
Kallie shook her head. “I'm sorry. I can't.”
Bennett looked at her fixedly, drumming the table with his fingers. “I'm not the bad guy, Kallie. I admit I was unartful with the privacy thing and I apologize for that. That's one of the areas we struggle with every day, keeping our citizens safe while respecting their right to be left alone. It's not easy. But to be honest, when it comes to keeping our country safe, I don't see a gray area. It's black and white. Either we do what is necessary to keep people safe or people die. It's that simple.”
Kallie remained silent.
Bennett stood up and paced the floor. “Don't you even care? I know college kids can be self-absorbed. But eventually you've got to care about something other than yourselves.”
Kallie glared at him. “People died on 9/11.”
Bennett stopped pacing. “What?”
She looked at him pointedly. “People died on 9/11. You had the chance to prevent it and didn't.”
Bennett sat back down at the table. “You don't honestly believe that, do you?”
“I have no problem believing the truth.”
“I don't know where you've gotten your information. But that's not truth. If we'd known about 9/11….”
“You'd have done what?” she asked, cutting him off. “What would you have done? What could you have done?”
“Listen,” Bennett said calmly, “you can't believe that righteous propaganda. You think your government would allow such a tragedy to be committed? Were there some people asleep at the wheel, ignoring some obvious warnings? That's possible. But there's no way your government would have knowingly allowed 9/11 to happen. No way. Your government protects its citizens.”
“What about Phillip Beamer?” she asked and regretted it almost immediately.
Bennett's nose twitched. “Phillip Beamer, what about him?”
“Nothing,” she said quietly.
“What do you know about Phillip Beamer?”
“What if he wasn't a terrorist? What if he'd tried to warn the government about terrorism and he was killed for his trouble?”
“Is that what you think? Is that the crap the conspiracy theorists are pushing these days?”
“I don't read conspiracy theories,” she said.
Bennett pushed back from the table and stood up again. He walked over to her side of the table and sat in the chair next to her. “Is that what Father McCarthy told you?”
“What?” Kallie said. “How do you know about Father McCarthy?” Then, realization slapped her hard across the face. “Have you been spying on me?”
Bennett didn't answer any of her questions. “Beamer was a terrorist. But we had nothing to do with his death. He was killed by someone who knew who he was and what he'd planned to do. That's why I'm here talking to you. If you can tell me….”
But Kallie wasn't listening. She pushed away from the table. “Do you follow me everywhere I go? Is my home bugged? My car? Oh my God!” Her hand cupped her mouth. She suddenly felt creepy. And dirty.
Bennett pressed on. “Was it McCarthy who told you about Beamer?”
Kallie couldn't hear him. All she could think about was hidden cameras and
strategically placed listening devices.
“McCarthy lied to you,” Bennett said. “Do you understand me, Kallie? McCarthy lied to you. We didn't kill Phillip Beamer.”
But he'd already lost her. She couldn't hear a word he said. She only wanted to get out of the room as fast as she could. She'd reluctantly accepted that a priest and fortuneteller apparently knew more about her own life than she did. But this revelation that her government was secretly spying on her was simply too much to bear. She felt as if she was being pulled from multiple directions and it frightened her. It seemed her life was no longer her own, if it ever was.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thursday, October 15.
Lieutenant Gary Conner stood in front of his four direct reports. “We have only two weeks until D-day gentlemen.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air for added affect. A former marine sergeant who'd completed five tours in the Gulf wars, Conner had the annoying habit of always peppering his spiel with militaristic references. He was a tall man with a puffed out chest and a sucked in gut that looked as if it'd been surgically spawned.
Of course the lieutenant had no way of knowing how true his words were, Principe thought. Conner was only referring to October 29 as the day a presidential candidate would visit United Corporate Bank Center. The shift commander didn't know that on that very day UBC would, in fact, explode just like the coast of Normandy had on the historic day Conner was hyperbolically referring to.
“We will be ready,” Conner continued. “We will treat Senator Frank as if he were the president. We've coordinated with his security team. Every moment of the senator's stay in our magnificent building, including his potty time, will be carefully choreographed.”
Senator Joseph Frank was the Junior Senator from Massachusetts, currently serving the third year of his first six year term. He'd won the seat after a special election held after the sitting senator died following a massive heart attack. At thirty-eight years of age, Frank was young, handsome, and charismatic. In today's political climate, window-dressing and the ability to assuage a nation's fears of an apocalyptic financial meltdown were all that was needed for a viable shot at the nation's highest office. After graduating at the top of his class with a Finance degree from Harvard, Frank earned his MBA from Yale before embarking on a successful run up Wall Street where he managed to grow a substantial personal portfolio, write a how-to financial book, and avoid the scandalous pitfalls that had enveloped so many of his colleagues. He'd earned a reputation for being hardworking, forthright, and smart—in short, he was just the man the country needed at this point in time, or so his handlers proclaimed. And if after next year's primary season he were to successfully secure his party's nomination for the presidency, it would be an historic accomplishment on several levels, as not only would the unmarried senator be the nation's youngest presidential candidate ever on a major party ticket, he'd also be its first Jewish candidate.
“He's got a dump scheduled two weeks out?” This was from Officer Joey Locke, the dour-faced muscle bound specimen standing to Principe's right.
“If he needs to take one, it'll be on the agenda,” Conner said without skipping a beat. “Gentlemen, this is a serious matter and we will treat it seriously. I don't care what anyone's political leanings are. I don't care if you think the Constitution is the Holy Grail or something you wipe your butt with. What I do care about is this building and the safety of Joseph Frank when he's in this building. Is that understood?”
A unified, “Yes sir.”
“Good,” Conner said. “I trust you've all read and absorbed Monday's email which included our list of objectives leading up to D-Day. First and second shifts are completing the new employee profiles and rundowns of expected media personnel. On third shift, we're responsible for the floor by floor search, which we'll…”
“Search for what, sir?” Locke asked.
Conner glared at him. “Anything out of the ordinary, something out of place, suspicious packages, or to be clearer son, bombs.”
Locke smirked. “Bombs? Are you freaking kidding? Nobody can sneak a Twinkie in this building without us knowing about it. How in the world will anyone be able to get a bomb in here?”
Principe could see Conner's jaw line tighten as it became painfully obvious that Locke hadn't bothered to read the email, a good portion of which had been dedicated to suspicious package detection. Conner, who considered himself a bomb expert, had included full colored pictures of the different ways bombs could be camouflaged. The email had also included the security team's bomb response and procedures. Conner had detailed everything down to the tiniest nuance. And apparently, Locke hadn't so much as blinked at it.
With his lower jaw twitching uncontrollably, Conner said, “Perhaps son, there's some other line of work you'd like to pursue? Maybe something a little less meticulous, like scooping up dog crap off the sidewalk.”
“No sir,” Locke said sheepishly. “I was just saying…”
“Don't just say, son,” Conner barked. “Just listen, and then just do.”
“Yes sir,” Locke said.
“And read your freaking email,” Conner added through clenched teeth.
* * *
On Thursday afternoon, despite simmering misgivings about Father McCarthy born out of her unplanned meeting with the ICE agent, Kallie honored her promise to the priest and kept her appointment to see Reverend Johnny Swag at his church. Dressed college-casual in blue jeans and a Duke University sweatshirt with its image of the university's mascot plastered boldly across his chest, Swag led her to a room at the back of the church. He didn't look as intimidating today as he had when he'd first come to her house wearing a black funereal suit. “This is New Vibe's computer room,” he said proudly after flipping on the light.
Kallie followed him into the room, which didn't look like a computer room at all. At least not like any of the ones at Bengate. Here, rows of tables crowded against each other, making the room look busy despite the fact that it was quiet and Kallie and Swag were the only living souls in the room. In addition, there were only two computers in the so-called computer room, each sitting atop tables that were situated at opposite ends of the room. Old-fashioned typewriters sat atop each of the other tables in the room. “It sort of looks like a newsroom from the seventies,” Kallie said, remembering an old movie she'd once seen.
“You get the idea,” Swag said. He pointed her in the direction of the computer on the left side of the room. “Go ahead and turn it on,” Swag said after she'd sat down in front of the computer. When the log-in screen appeared, she turned toward him. “Just enter 'Remember1' as the user ID and password. Capital R, numerical one, no spaces.”
She followed his instructions and soon the computer desktop was visible. Swag checked his watch and then leaned over her to use the mouse to drag the cursor to the Skype icon. She caught a hint of his cologne and felt herself blushing. He smelled nice and manly. If he didn't own a creepy black suit or could recite scripture verbatim, Swag could easily be considered hunk-material. After a few moments and more keystrokes from Swag, Father McCarthy's headshot appeared onscreen.
“I'll leave you two alone,” Swag said to her, and then he left the room.
“Kallie, it's good to see you again. Technology's a great thing, isn't it?” Father McCarthy asked rhetorically. Initially, the audio was a slight step behind the video, reminiscent of one of those poorly translated Japanese martial art movies. It was a little disorienting to her, more so a few seconds later when she saw the sudden change in his facial expression an instant before he said, “Is something troubling you? You looked pensive.”
Surprised and somewhat taken aback by his astuteness, Kallie found herself at a sudden loss for words. After she'd found out that the government had been spying on her, her emotions had ping-ponged between anger and fear. How dare the government spy on her! Where exactly did they get off doing that to an American citizen? Especially one who'd been doing nothing other than minding her own business?
But before she'd been able to fully consider her anger-fueled questions, fear had set in, bringing questions of its own. Since they were spying on her, what would that ultimately mean for her? Did they honestly consider her a threat to national security? Was what happened to Phillip Beamer going to happen to her?
Naturally, her anger and fear had waned in the two days since though it was still an unsettling feeling knowing someone had purposely watched her every move. She wasn't a naive girl. She knew that law enforcement officials oftentimes placed criminals under surveillance, sometimes recording the very information that would be used later to file charges against those very criminals. She got that. But she was no criminal. Then again, Bennett hadn't necessarily been acting on behalf of the US government. Nor could what he'd done be technically called spying. He'd merely decided to visit a girl who his own niece had told him had had a weird vision, one involving an act of terror. It was a plausible and innocent explanation. But what Kallie didn't get was why the agent had deemed her vision so important in the first place? Even if it was true that the government had an agency dedicated to investigating the paranormal, it wouldn't explain why Agent Bennett felt the need to go skulking outside the house of a teenaged college student.
As she'd considered these questions in the quietness of her bedroom, she realized she'd gotten so ticked off by Bennett's spying revelation that she'd completely ignored the agent's implication concerning Father McCarthy. Now, as she looked solemnly at the Father's face on the computer monitor, she again considered the agent's allegation. What if McCarthy had lied to her about Phillip Beamer? What if Bennett had been telling the truth? But why would McCarthy lie to her? It just didn't make sense.
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