Project Chiron

by Ryan King

  She paused and took a deep breath before she pushed through the dark oak door at the end of a long hall. The small sign by the door read “Internal Affairs Division.”

  Walking through the door as if she belonged there, Deborah made her way towards the back where Special Agent-in-Charge Norman Kendricks sat. He had been a mentor to her for many years, and it had broken both their hearts when he had been forced to re-assign her several years before. Deborah's intensity and unwillingness to always follow orders had inevitably gotten her in trouble.

  "Deborah?" asked Kendricks' secretary in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  She smiled at the older lady who she had always liked. "Hi, Fay. Good to see you. Is the boss available?"

  Fay's smiled slipped a little. "Does he know you're coming?"

  Deborah looked at the closed office door and then back at Fay. "No, but it's important."

  "You know he went out on a limb for you last time, don't you?"

  "I do and I haven't let him down," answered Deborah, fighting down her defensiveness. She knew this little lady was the gatekeeper if she wanted to see the head of the Justice Department's Internal Affairs Division. "I'm not here to have him get me out of trouble or ask for a favor. This is official business that falls squarely in his lane."

  Fay stared at her hard for a few seconds. Finally, she sighed and started punching on her computer keyboard. "I can get you in there for five minutes as soon as the door opens."

  "Thank you," said Deborah and sat in a chair against the wall.

  As the minutes ticked away, her nervousness slowly grew. She had mostly been working on instinct. The magnitude of what she was about to do started to sink in. Agents around the office gave her furtive glances, as if they were already shunning her.

  When the door opened, she shot to her feet. Three agents with notebooks emerged smiling and laughing and walked away.

  That used to be me, she thought. After a few seconds, she realized the open door beckoned. She turned to find a squat overweight man in a bowtie staring at her from an enormous desk.

  "Well, you might as well come on in, I guess," Kendricks said.

  Deborah walked into the office and closed the door behind her. "I'm sorry to drop in like this, sir."

  "Go ahead and have a seat since you're here."

  She sat and found it difficult to start. There was so much history and emotion and disappointment between them. This man had been fair to her. A good boss and mentor.

  "Just start at the beginning," said Kendricks. "In my experience, that's always the best place to start."

  Deborah felt immense gratitude, and the tension flowed out of her. She told him everything. Showed him the case file from the shoulder bag she carried. She told him about the group of five in the lobby.

  Kendricks stood up and opened the door. "Fay, clear my afternoon. We're going to be busy." He then turned back to Deborah. "I'd like to meet these fugitives you've brought here."

  ***

  Kendricks met Jackson, Johnny, Deloy, Moses, and Rena in the lobby.

  "This is some situation we seem to find ourselves in," Kendricks said.

  "Do you think you can help us?" asked Jack.

  Kendricks looked at them each slowly in turn. "I presume all of you are prepared to testify under oath to the things Deborah here has told me?"

  "We will," said Johnny.

  Kendricks turned to Deborah. "You do know this will probably be the end of your career in the FBI. No one will want you. No one will recommend you for promotion. No partner will want to work with you. Are you ready for that? You sure you want to go forward?"

  Deborah smiled. "Let's face it, we both know I never really fit in anyway."

  "Okay then," Kendricks said. "Let's go talk to the boss."

  "Who's that?" asked Rena.

  "The Attorney General," answered Deborah.

  Chapter 62

  St Keel finally had a day off. He and Brenda planned to spend the day working in their overgrown garden together and maybe go out to eat later. It was a beautiful autumn day. The weather had been perfect after the hurricane had rolled through the gulf.

  "Eric," called Brenda from downstairs. "There are some people here to see you.

  St Keel could tell from the tone of her voice that something wasn't right. The security detail would have turned away any troublemakers or reporters, so it was likely someone from the office. Brenda was looking forward to their day alone and probably thought whoever it was would get him back into the office.

  Not today, he told himself. Nothing was going to ruin this day.

  He made his way down the ornate spiral staircase to the entryway. "Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow," he said loudly.

  "I'm afraid not," answered a man in a suit and sunglasses at the front door. Another man stood beside him.

  "What is this about?" St Keel asked.

  The first man pulled out a badge. "I am Deputy U.S. Marshal Gimbals, and this is Deputy U.S. Marshall Ashley."

  "U.S. Marshalls?" said St Keel. "I presume this is about Jackson Winters. I've already told the state police everything I know."

  "I'm afraid that is not why we're here," said Gimbals, pulling out a piece of paper. "We're here to execute an arrest warrant on behalf of the U.S. Attorney General."

  "Arrest warrant?" St Keel took the paper. "For who?'

  "For you, sir," said Ashley.

  St Keel looked up from the paper at him in shock. "What in the world is this about?"

  "That will all be explained, I presume, at the Baton Rouge Police Station," said Ashley.

  St Keel turned to Brenda. "Call the office and tell them to get a lawyer down there. Hell, tell them to get all the lawyers down there. We're going to sue the shit out of everyone involved in this."

  "Not really our concern," said Gimbals. "Can we trust you to come along cooperatively, sir? I'd rather not use the cuffs if we don't have to."

  "Definitely not," answered St Keel. He turned to Brenda and gave her a kiss. "Don't worry, I'll be home for lunch."

  St Keel walked between the two marshals and got in the back of the typical government sedan.

  It killed him to see his wife's worried face staring out at them as they drove away.

  ***

  St Keel seethed as he was fingerprinted, booked, and photographed. He vowed to make everyone involved pay.

  He sat at a table in a plain gray interrogation room. St Keel was prepared to tell whoever came to talk to him and read him his rights to go to hell, but strangely, they let him be.

  After an exceptionally long time, a short man with spectacles and a briefcase was let in the room by a police officer, who closed the door behind them.

  "Who are you?" asked St Keel.

  "My name is Lucius McCraven," the man said. "I'm your attorney."

  "No, you're not. I know all the attorneys at the office and I've never seen you before."

  "I'm afraid those are attorneys for the state," McCraven said. "Their job is to represent and defend Louisiana. I'm here to represent you."

  St Keel shook his head. "I don't understand what is going on."

  McCraven pulled off his glasses and polished them. "You have been indicted on obstruction of justice and conspiracy by the Justice Department. Your warrant was executed as part of a series of indictments. I'm still getting read up on the case, so I'll know more soon enough."

  "When can I get out of here?"

  McCraven frowned. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen. In fact, they only allowed me to talk to you as a courtesy. In a few minutes, they will come and take you to a cell."

  "A cell? This can't be happening. What evidence do they have? I haven't done anything wrong."

  "I don't know yet, but they've let me know that the FBI has an inside source. This source said you had a meeting with several leaders of pharmaceutical companies and agreed to use your position to inappropriately benefit them. Seems like this source was actually in the room."

  St K
eel closed his eyes going through the meeting in D.C. in his mind.

  "There is also someone on your staff who has implicated you in corruption."

  "Who?" asked St Keel.

  "Your former chief-of-staff."

  "What did he say?" asked St Keel.

  McCraven shook his head. "Again, I'll know more tomorrow morning when I come back."

  "Tomorrow morning? You mean I have to spend the night here?"

  McCraven looked at him sadly. "Sir, I'm afraid you're likely to be here for several days until the arraignment. I'll argue then to get you released on bail and I think any judge would agree."

  St Keel's head was spinning. The implications of what was happening were starting to flash before his eyes.

  "Does the media know yet?"

  McCraven looked uncomfortable. "You know it's almost impossible to keep things like this secret."

  A policeman opened the door. He looked apologetically at St Keel. "I'm sorry, sir. Time to go."

  McCraven stood. "I'll be back in the morning. I trust it goes without saying that you know not to talk to anyone without me being there."

  "It does. You know I was an attorney myself."

  "That doesn't always help people," McCraven said. "Lawyers tend to think they're the smartest people on the planet when it comes to the law. Just hang in there and don't talk. We'll have you out in a few days." He then turned and walked out the door without looking back.

  The policeman at the door indicated St Keel should exit the room and led him through a series of security doors and down several halls. Soon they were walking on gray concrete floors with cells on each side crammed with inmates. He felt a hint of fear.

  "Don't worry, sir," said the policeman, as if reading his mind. "We'll put you in your own cell at the end. No one will mess with you."

  "Thank you," said St Keel, hating the sound of abject gratitude in his voice.

  "Hello, Eric," said a voice to his right.

  St Keel turned to see a smiling Lucas Ross.

  "I told you you'd regret this," the man said.

  Chapter 63

  "Is that it?" asked Jack, throwing the newspaper down in disgust.

  "I'm afraid it's as good as it's going to get," answered Deborah. "It's my unfortunate experience that people in power rarely get what they deserve."

  "The governor is only facing charges of obstruction of justice," Jackson said. "And he's not even the big fish here."

  Deborah signed heavily. "They weren't able to find any evidence of what happened at Bog Island. Everything had been cleaned up. The case might even be dropped for lack of evidence."

  "But we gave sworn statements," said Rena. "We told everything. And what about that nurse from down there who agreed to cooperate?"

  "They're discrediting her," answered Deborah. "Say she has no real proof of anything. Even the belongings of your friend might have been stolen. If we had any concrete evidence, all your testimony would be the nail in the coffin, but without it..."

  "And there's a whole lot of pharma money flowing around," said Johnny.

  "That, too," said Deborah. "Just know that whatever else happens, you at least caused it to all be shut down."

  "And the governor is certainly done, no matter how this turns out," said Deloy. "Same for that Lucas Ross fellow they say cut a deal with the feds to testify."

  "It's not enough," said Jackson. "Charles and Heather are still out there somewhere."

  "You've done your best. What else can you do?" asked Rena.

  "Use the law, like my father taught me," Jack answered. "I'll chase them with civil cases until I get them. My friends deserve better."

  "Your firm going along with that?" asked Johnny.

  "No, which is why I'm starting my own firm," said Johnny. "I've got some decent initial investment, but I need some good folks to help me. You all in?"

  They all looked at each other in surprise.

  "All of us?" asked Rena, staring at Jack with meaning.

  "Yes," he said, walking over and taking her hand.

  "Well, I'm actually between jobs," said Deborah. "I always wondered what it would be like to be a private eye. Every good attorney needs a private eye on the payroll."

  "What about the rest of us?" asked Deloy.

  Jack smiled. "Oh, I'm sure we'll find something for you to do."

  Epilogue

  Captain Ernest Quincy sat in a lawn chair reading a paper. His already deeply tanned skin soaked in the southern Arizona sun. If he had looked up from his paper, Quincy could have seen where the Mexico border was located across about six miles of high desert.

  He shook his head in disgust at the headline. It was amazing the level of corruption in the world today. What was everything coming to?

  The newspapers came in with their supplies and mail once a week via special cleared courier. Quincy didn't miss the outside world, but he liked to read about what was happening. Most of the time it reaffirmed his current career choice.

  There was a man-sized shadow suddenly over him.

  "You're blocking my sun," said Quincy. "Makes it hard to read."

  "We got a message in on the secure comm system," Conrad, his operations officer, said.

  "Can you believe this shit?" asked Quincy, shaking the paper at Conrad.

  The big man leaned over and looked at the article.

  Murder, Torture, and Corruption in Oman

  Louisiana Governor Eric St Keel's already embattled administration suffered even more scandal yesterday when damning evidence emerged that his chief-of-staff, former Colonel Lucas Ross, was responsible for the torture and deaths of civilians and enemy combatants while in command of Task Force Shark in Oman several years ago. There are also indications that the Department of Defense covered up these incidents and allowed Ross to retire without further discipline. By some estimates, over one hundred civilians were held prisoner without legal authorization in Task Force Shark's Detention Center. Reports indicate that even by the authorized legal authority of “enhanced interrogation techniques” Ross's unit went far beyond what the U.S. Government authorizes.

  The Justice Department has opened an investigation into Task Force Shark and into allegations that the Department of Defense failed to disclose criminal conduct by its senior military commander in embattled Oman. The Oman government is also demanding an explanation, and protests there have continued for the past three days.

  President Wilkens pledged to get to the bottom of this incident along with numerous allegations against presidential candidate Eric St Keel.

  - Story continued on page 6 -

  "Looks like someone stepped in it this time," said Conrad.

  Quincy shook his head. "That's putting it mildly."

  Conrad held out a piece of paper. "The message. It's marked 'immediate.'"

  Taking the message, Quincy leaned forward and dropped the paper.

  To: Site Eir

  From: Headquarters

  Subject: Bronze Protocol Alert Notice

  Recent compromise of Site Iaso has necessitated initiation of Bronze Protocol through all Project Chiron Sites. Bronze Protocol will continue for thirty days from receipt of this message unless suspended by official headquarters secure message.

  All site commanders will acknowledge by authenticated secure message.

  "What the hell is Bronze Protocol?" asked Conrad.

  "It means we're locked down. All experiments and research are on hold," answered Quincy. "It means those assholes at Site Iaso shit the bed and we have to sleep in it."

  "What the hell is Iaso?"

  "Who knows?" said Quincy. "Probably some damn mythological figure. Just like Eir is supposed to be the Norse god of healing."

  Conrad grunted. "Why couldn't they have just named the sites after football teams or beers or something non-geek like?"

  "Because, just like in this job, geeks rule the world. That's why we beat the shit out of them in high school, because deep down we know it will be our last chance."
r />   Quincy looked back at the camp behind him. There were a dozen long square buildings surrounding a central fenced-in courtyard. Around the yard were a number of concrete-lined holes in the ground with metal covers where the test subjects were housed.

  There were several subjects taking their hour in the sun. A massive mountain of a black man stared at them with murder in his eyes.

  "I don't like that one," said Conrad. "I don't understand why we had to take on the Iaso riffraff anyway. The little Haitian’s no trouble, and the woman’s a hottie, but that guy’s nothing but a problem."

  "It's not like they could let them go," said Quincy. "Besides it was worth it to get that guy. And I never believed in Karma."

  "What do you mean?"

  Quincy pointed at the big black man. "Back eleven years ago, I lost ten grand when LSU beat Texas in the Cotton Bowl. The Longhorns would have won if not for a crazy beast of a defensive end who had three sacks, eight tackles, and an interception. If not for that asshole, Texas would have won."

  "Karma? I didn't see it," said Conrad.

  "I was actually there, and I promised that if I ever got my hands on that guy, I would take ten grand out of his ass."

  Conrad shook his head. "I still don't get it."

  Quincy smiled and pointed at the large man staring at them from behind the fence. "That guy right there is the LSU player who lost me my college money. That's Charles Haywood himself."

  "Wow," said Conrad. "What are the odds?"

  "A million to one. Nothing short of a damn miracle."

  Charles Haywood stared back at the men, hoping he got a chance to make them pay and knowing somewhere out there Jackson would be looking for them.

  A stiff wind wiped into Site Eir and tore the newspaper out of Quincy's hands. The paper blew up into the air and away.