by Mary Alford
I’d never make it through this day if I thought about all the things I’d given up by letting Roc go. I needed something to take my focus off Roc.
I opened the document Mark sent. In his attached note, he indicated that he believed it had Jeremiah’s MO written all over it. After a quick pass through it, I was inclined to agree.
The man was a mastermind when it came to using obscure languages to communicate with his people. Usually they were only mildly challenging but this one, well, I struggled with it for hours before finally determining it was a form of ancient Aramaic. A language that my father had taught me as a child. I wondered if my father would have done the same for Justin.
I’d only just begun unraveling the document but already I sensed its importance. Something ominous was about to take place. I could feel it in the tone of the document. Unfortunately, I was rusty at the language and it was taking me longer than usual to transcribe it. I didn’t know the full content just yet, or how bad the things I’d find in there would turn out to be and until I understood the full impact of that document, I couldn’t risk letting anyone, including Mark, know what I suspected.
Seated in front of my computer, I read the first line once again. To the few people who might actually know the language, this sentence would appear to be a simple greeting from one friend to another. I didn’t believe it for a minute. It wasn’t anything so innocent.
After those first initial words jumped out at me with all the hidden hatred disguised as a friendly greeting, the writer’s voice took on an even darker theme.
There was a reference to something called ‘the eyes within.’ I’d never seen this particular phrase mentioned before in any other FLA document. The next line was much easier to translate. The whores of Babylon. I’d heard this rhetoric used before. From previous references, I believed ‘whore’ referred to the CIA, while Babylon meant the U.S. government. The writer was taking every precaution to keep the words of this document secret, which lent further proof to its legitimacy.
This type of rhetoric went on for several more paragraphs, but the implication was clear once I’d cracked the code, which had taken a little longer than usual given the complexity of the language.
There were code names for at least seven of the top terrorists operating in the U.S. We’d had these guys under surveillance for years. Those named were members of at least five separate terrorist groups. This held unimaginable possibilities.
These cells claimed responsibility for terrible acts of violence against our people in the past. But these guys hated each other almost as much as they hated our government. They disagreed on just about everything. If the document was believable, then how could they put aside those differences to work together?
Was this the real reason Justin came back into my life after all these years? Was my brother trying to warn me of what was about to take place and maybe trying to clear his name in the process? If I could convince Justin to turn himself in, would he be willing to share this valuable information with The Agency in exchange for a new start on life?
I had no idea where the document originated or how Mark got it in the first place. Was this part of something found in the raid on Jeremiah’s hideout?
Normally, I wasn’t privy to such details. Part of the security tactics Roc put into place. The less we knew, the less likely we were to be a security risk should someone capture us.
I grabbed my phone and called Mark. The second he heard my voice, he suspected something.
“Lena, what’s up?” Which really meant ‘why are you calling me?’
“Not much, really. Listen, I’m still working on the document you gave me, and there’s something I need to ask you about it. Can you tell me where you got this piece originally?”
“Lena, what are you doing? Have you found out something already?”
"No…I mean, I’m not sure yet. But I need some background on this particular piece.” Mark’s silence told me how odd this request must sound to him. “Look, Mark I know this is unusual, but it’s important. I’m having difficulty decoding the piece. I was hoping a little background on the document might help.”
“You know that’s not normal procedure.” Mark warned, clearly not buying my story, but at the moment, I didn’t care. “What makes this one so different? Why do you need to know?”
“I know what normal procedure is, but there are exceptions to the rule, and I’m telling you this is one of them. Understanding where the document originated will help me with the exact interpretation.” I’d already started translating the piece, but for personal reasons, I had to know.
“You know I’ll have to check with Roc first. I mean, he has the final say in changes to procedure. Unless you’ve already spoken to him about it?”
I stood with the phone in my hand, trying to decide just how far I was willing to take this crusade. Just how desperate was I to prove my brother’s innocence?
“Roc’s not here, but if you want to bother him with this, then…”
My answer met with another uncomfortable pause in which I fully expected Mark to challenge me. “Hang on a second, I’ll bring it up on my computer.”
I listened to him mumble to himself as he scrolled through the endless pages of information he kept on his computer. In my mind, I always pictured him hunched over his computer day and night, squinting and typing away.
“Okay, here it is. You want me to send you the file?” This surprised me since Mark never offered to share his files with anyone, including Roc. But then I think he believed in some strange way I might be the key to figuring out what Jeremiah Silvers was really up to in D.C.
“Sure, that’d be great,” I told him while trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Okay, but you have to promise you’ll let Roc and me know as soon as you find out anything. You know how critical this is, Lena.”
I promised Mark I’d pass along any information I found as quickly as possible. As soon as the file downloaded, I began to read Mark’s notes. Surprisingly, he had very little real information to go on in them.
What it boiled down to was the thumb drive had simply arrived at The Agency’s doorstep anonymously. Most of the information on the drive had been garbage with the exception of the document I was translating. Mark still wasn’t convinced the document wasn’t a hoax meant to throw us off what was really in the works, or if maybe, one of his snitches was doing a little counterintelligence of his own.
After searching through the information for several hours, little in the file proved useful. I wondered if this might be the real reason Mark was so willing to share it.
I stopped reading and wondered if this was just a hoax, as Mark initially believed. After all, it would take someone so charismatic that they could convince the other groups’ leaders to put aside their differences and work together under one command to pull off what the document suggested. I didn’t believe that person was Jeremiah Silvers, or my brother.
All of the reports I’d read about those guys told me just how impossible that would be, because to them it was as much about the power as it was the cause. It just wasn’t conceivable—was it?
Certainly, any attack by the joined, organized terrorist forces listed in the note would be all but impossible to prevent. If someone were able to unite these groups under one common cause and leadership then how were we going to stop what we didn’t know was planned?
That afternoon I picked up the phone a dozen times to call Roc. He needed to know about what I’d found out and what I suspected, but each time, I couldn’t make that call because I needed to make one more attempt at reaching my brother. Somehow, I had to convince him to tell me the truth once and for all, no matter how bad it was or how deeply he was involved in this plot. And I had to do it before it was too late. Before it was out of my control.
By keeping silent, I crossed some line that I might never come back from. I believed that Roc would never forgive me if he knew what I was up to nor would he let me go through wi
th it, which was all the more reason why I couldn’t tell him the truth just yet.
I was slipping deeper into a place I had no business going. Quite possibly my cover, along with my team members, had been exposed to the enemy. I’d memorized all the risks by heart and none of them stopped me.
~
When Mark called an emergency meeting for the following evening, I wondered if I’d waited too long. Had someone uncovered my secrets and, if so, how close to being brought up on federal charges was I?
“Has something new happened?” I asked Mark when I arrived at the meeting, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, it’s very important that everyone be here tonight. With Roc gone, we’re already a man short. This means the rest of us will be pulling double duty for the time being.”
As I thought about Roc, I tried to hold it together. But I needed to talk to the man who had been his best friend for years.
“He’s really gone, isn’t he, Mark? I can’t believe it. Are you sure?”
Mark sighed, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”
“He didn’t want you to tell me, did he?”
“No. He thought it best to just leave things the way they were between you.”
“I can’t stand this, Mark. I can’t stand the thought of losing him. I never thought I’d feel this way. I miss him so much.”
“Lena, for crying out loud, why now? Why do you choose to express these feelings now, and to me of all people when for as long as I’ve known about you two, you’ve treated Roc as nothing but a side note in your life? Do you know how much you hurt him?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No Mark, please don’t say that.”
Those words were like a knife to my heart. I loved Roc. I never meant to hurt him.
“Well, it’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing, just forget I said anything,” Mark said.
“He’s not coming back, is he?”
“Why should he? What’s waiting for him here?”
I flinched as each of those words struck me. Mark blamed me for our failed relationship.
“He’s going back to working for the CIA under a different capacity?” I asked, fighting the tears that were close.
“I don’t know. I can’t say.”
“He’s never coming back, is he?” I said the words again but I still couldn’t believe them. I took Mark’s silence as my answer. “What happens to The Agency now? Will we still stay together as a team? This was Roc’s passion. His creation. No offense, Mark, but Roc was the glue that kept us all together. We aren’t exactly the types to get along, as you well know.”
“No, you’re right. But we don’t really have a choice now, do we? No one ever really gets out of this. We’ve made a commitment to it. But I’ve talked to Ed and we need to get someone in as quickly as possible—someone qualified, although replacing Roc will be all but impossible.”
Once the rest of the team arrived, Mark took charge of the meeting. In Roc’s absence, Mark was transformed, as if he’d come out from under Roc’s shadow for the first time. If Roc chose to leave The Agency in Mark’s command, I had little doubt it would go on just as before.
“The reason I called this meeting tonight is there was an undocumented death of what we believe to be a high ranking FLA member earlier today,” Mark said. “I’ve checked with the other agencies, but no one claims responsibility for the kill. My source tells me that the chatter among the other cells here in D.C. is that it was an independent— someone acting on their own.” He glanced around at the group. “Personally, I think he’s either lying or he’s been deliberately fed some incorrect information. After all, as far as I know, there are no independents working this area.”
“Do we know the identity of the person killed yet?” Stevie asked. “Was he close to Jeremiah Silvers? Maybe someone was challenging Silvers’ power. How firm is Jeremiah’s control?”
“No one seems to know for certain, but as far as Jeremiah Silvers being in control, I don’t think anyone within the FLA would dare challenge him. So we need to turn up the heat some more. Find out what’s going on and soon—before this thing blows up in our faces.” Mark looked directly at me. He was counting on the document to provide some key piece of information.
Once I left the meeting, I drove in the direction of the last place I’d seen my brother. If I didn’t find Justin tonight there was absolutely nothing I could do to help him.
I waited there for hours without any contact. I was almost ready to give up when he appeared out of nowhere.
“Lena.” The sound of my name could have been only a whisper, but in the stillness around us, it sounded like a shout.
“You shouldn’t have come here. I told you not to contact me again. It’s too dangerous.” Even as he said the words, my brother moved closer.
I stood before him, looking at the man who was nothing like the boy of seventeen that I remembered. In his eyes, I saw the coldness that depicted a killer. Everything I’d read about my brother was true.
But he was still my brother. Some of the kid I’d loved so much in the past must still be there somewhere. We were family after all.
“Can I hug you?” I asked tentatively. Now that I was face to face with him, I wasn’t sure how to react. I was on the opposite end of the law from Justin.
“Yes.”
I went into his arms after a moment’s hesitation. It felt odd accepting Justin as my brother, especially realizing who he was. But we were both trying so hard. Justin was being very careful not to get too close to me. After all, this reunion had been a long time coming. I could almost see Mom and Dad smiling at me now.
My brother’s hand came in contact with my weapon and he froze.
“It’s okay. It’s only there as a precaution. I wasn’t sure…” I left the rest of the sentence unsaid. Justin knew who I was. There was no need for explanation.
He pulled back a little, his fingers touching my face. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I was crying. My tears took us both by surprise.
“Lena, don’t cry. Please, don’t.” Justin brushed my tears away. I could tell that it had been a long time since he’d touched another human the way he touched me.
“Can you stay with me for a little while?” I asked softly. “Please, please don’t leave just yet.”
He let me go as if our very contact hurt. But then, maybe it was just the reminders of what he’d once had. The family he’d been part of.
“We should find some place safer than this. It’s too public. There are those from both sides watching us. You know that, don’t you, Lena?”
I followed him inside an abandoned building where we found a couple of old chairs strewn around.
For a long time, neither of us knew what to say to each other. We listened to the sounds of the city outside the store’s crumbling walls. “You know about Mom and Dad?”
He nodded. I had to ask the question I didn’t want to ask.
“Did you have anything to do with their deaths, Justin?”
The expression on my brother’s face was what hurt most of all. “No. No, of course not. How could you think that I would, Lena?”
I drew in a shaky breath and searched his face. “I don’t really know you anymore, do I? What happened to you? How did you become a part of it? How could you do those horrible things? How could you do that to them—to their memory? Especially knowing everything Dad stood for.”
Justin grew edgy. He glanced around the building as if expecting trouble. “I won’t tell you details, Lena. I can’t. They’d kill me if they knew I was talking to you right now. All I can say is you don’t understand everything.”
“No? What is it that I don’t understand…Jeremiah?” My brother was surprised at the mention of that name. But it was enough to know I’d been right. He was Jeremiah
Silvers.
He watched me with a cautious look on his face. “So you know,” he said.
“I know everything. All about you and the FLA. Trust me, Justin, everything’s been very well-documented. We’ve had you under surveillance for a long time now.”
“And you think you know everything, is that it, Lena? You’ve read some information given to you by the Bureau’s higher-ups and you think you know all about me.”
“Are you saying it’s not true?” When he merely watched me with those dead eyes, I lost it. “Tell me the truth, Justin. Tell me that you aren’t the monster I’ve read about in those reports. Tell me how my brother, the boy who was so loving as a kid, could turn into the emotionless killer you are right now.” When he still didn’t answer, I added wearily, “Tell me you weren’t responsible for any of those things and I’ll try and help you. But you have to be honest with me. Tell me everything.”
He was silent for so long that I believed he wouldn’t answer me at all.
“I can’t tell you anything,” he said, shaking his head and there was a sadness in his eyes.
“You know they never stopped looking for you. They never gave up hope of finding you and bringing you back home again. It was all they lived for, for so long. They gave up so much of their life for you, Justin. I think you owe them something. I want to know how you could do that to them.”
Justin sat silent and unyielding, those empty eyes giving nothing away.
“Justin, talk to me. I think after all this time I’m entitled to some answers.” I got to my feet and paced the room.
“What good would it do? Would it change anything? I am who I am. Don’t you see that? I can’t change for you and I can’t take back any of the things I’ve done. And neither can you. Give it up. Stop looking for revenge for their deaths. You’ll end up chasing ghosts forever if you do.”
I stopped walking and faced him. “You’re just avoiding accepting responsibility for your part in their deaths. It was because of you that they went to that town in North Carolina in the first place. But you’re right about one thing, we can’t change who we are. And I have a responsibility to my superiors to bring you in, Jeremiah. So, either you can talk to me now or you can talk to my superiors. I don’t care which it is anymore.”