by Vincent Heck
"....And when we get there we're gonna have to have something like a pipe, or a broom stick or something, Chrissie, cause I’m not goin out like that! They gon' hav to fight this lady--"
"Clare? What are you talking about?"
"When we get to your house, there’s sure to be all kinds of murkiness there. I’m sure of it."
Christine thought about that. That’s it! that's obviously where to start. Her mind rang clear Jason's order not to return to the house. But while she wasn't listening, she may as well break that rule ,too.
"Ok, Clare, we'll grab the crow bar in the back of the car. You feel safe now?"
"Safer. But, not ‘safe’."
Nothing in the world could stop her from doing this, she felt that she owed it to Jason.
"You really think he's in trouble?" Clareese asked.
"I don't know. I hope I'm just overreacting."
Her heart mulled over the idea of Jason working on some top secret national affair – some covert sting operation -- and while he's in the company of world officials, his wife barges in the house with her crazy friend and a crowbar. That would be embarrassing. But, why not come back to the house?
"He's cheating!" Christine belted out.
"What?!"
"That’s why I can't come back to the house. There’s probably nothing going on, at all."
Christine stepped on the gas as she approached the turnpike exit for Arlington, Virginia. "I know I’ve been a bad wife, but are you kidding me?!"
"Wait calm down, Christine. Tell me why you, all of a sudden, had this epiphany."
"I can just feel it. He’s always looking at this stupid little device. He’s always got that stoic awkward stance and he’s addicted to that thing. At night when he’s even home, he’s glued to his technology. He goes into his little room, closes the door, and then it’s silence. Nothing but ‘tap-tap-tap’ on the keyboard."
"Well if that's the case then we definitely gon need that crowbar." Clareese said.
Christine pulled down the street her and Jason lived on. Everything seemed normal. Her bushes were a little disturbed and her grass was definitely marched through. But everything looked OK at first glance.
She pulled up to the front of the house to see that there was a brand new door up.
By the time they both stepped out of the car, Christine hesitantly approached the new door, to see that it contained the same locks.
Clareese ran to get the crowbar out of the trunk.
The door was the same exact brand and make of the original, but this one was clearly replaced. There was no scratch in it from the time Jason dropped his hammer out of the window on to the ground and the ricochet mark it should have left was not there.
She waved her key by the lock pad on the door; the lock worked, the door handle ejected out, and the alarm was armed as usual. She walked to the alarm box located in the vestibule and shut off the system. Same code.
She walked into an utter mess inside the house. Every electronic in the house was unplugged. A lot of them were methodically broken open. The carpet appeared as if a parade route was recently directed straight through her house.
"Let’s go upstairs." Christine said.
They crept upstairs listening intently to see what they could hear -- only the slight creak of wooden stairs underneath the carpet. With each soft step, Christine felt that she was getting closer to running into something that would turn her life upside down.
“Why did I marry a government agent, Clare?”
At the top of the stairs the vanity table was still standing as tall as it ever had been. The second floor of the house, with the exception of the electronics, seemed just fine. It was only deserted. Eerily quiet. The silence reminded her of midnight – when everything was still and resting.
Christine and Clareese entered the master bedroom. The window next to the bathroom entrance was open and a bedsheet rope hung out of it.
"I wonder what happened here, Clare? Someone must have come in here and this must be how he escaped."
“No clue. Looks like maybe Jason had to run, and they ransacked the place.”
“But, only the electronics? Maybe they’re looking for something hidden?” Christine jumbled through the drawers to see if she could find anything that would give her a clue.
A beep from the alarm system sounded, informing the girls that someone had just walked through the front door of their house. A separate alert indicated an opening of the back door.
Both doors pounded closed within seconds of each other.
The women froze.
For a minute, there was silence. With no warning, footsteps began barreling up the steps stomping at a rapid sprinting pace.
In a frenzy, both girls sped to the window. There wasn’t enough room for both of them to get through, so Christine let Clareese go out the window first.
The steps continued to quickly approach.
"Slide, slide, slide!" Christine whispered urgently.
As Christine stepped her foot out of the window she heard the footsteps reach the top of the stairs. Her foot stepped on the top of Clareese’s head.
"SLIDE!!" she fussed, tapping her foot on Clareese.
The man kicked in through the door, sending shards of wood sprinkling into the bedroom. The first thing Christine saw charge into the room was a .45 caliber pistol.
The man let off three gunshots.
11:58pm
Jason glanced at his watch. The time was coming. “Jason, your sedation period has been reached.” Sirus said. “Your dopamine has exceeded normal levels.”
He had his handheld device prepared to feed him video from the surveillance cameras. The device was set to record complete vital signs – humans and atmosphere -- anything that could be accessed through the satellites and drones. He had an invisible earpiece, which was actually a sound projector synced with his device. He had programmed his device to speak to him via a direct soundbeam from his device into his ear because physical earpieces impeded his ability to hear the reality around him. While it was virtually undetectable in reality, it was still susceptible to being intercepted.
He was receiving various signals from all of the feeds in the DHS building. The first, and main, channel that he had his ear piece set to, received the signal from the DHS guard’s walkie-talkies. With just those items, Jason was prepared to walk into that building like he had never left.
After another forty minutes of preparation, he gathered his backpack, and started on his walk to the building. The intermittent, static, garble in his ear indicated small amounts of activity in the building.
The previous twenty minutes were completely silent. There were no transmissions. The guards are struggling to stay awake – or just plain sleep.
He walked a brisk constant pace towards the building. It was lit up with white lights in the quiet darkness of northern D.C. at 12:39 a.m.
He saw the guard sitting at his post at the desk by the front door.
“Sirus, make me invisible.”
In his ear, he heard Sirus respond. “Bodychip deactivated. No technology will detect you for the next sixty minutes.”
A tingle in his left wrist left a numbness in his thumb and index finger.
As he approached the building, he wondered if it were common knowledge that he was on the run. Probably not.
Equipped with his badge, he was prepared to walk past the guard like he had done so many other times in his career.
But, he didn’t recognize the guard. Not one ounce.
He didn’t recognize any of the few people walking out of that building.
He approached the door and pulled out his security badge to swipe. The badge swiper next to the door beamed a brilliant red. The thought crossed Jason’s mind, that even if none of the support employees knew his dilemma, there is no way the big guys left his card active, or untraced.
As Jason moved in to risk his life swiping his badge, the light changed to vibrant green. He looked u
p into the guards beaming grin. The guard waved him in.
Hesitantly, Jason opened the door.
"Hey old friend. No need for you to fumble with your things, I got it. Hey, sir, we missed you these last few days, is everything ok?"
Jason still didn’t recognize the guard. His body language and his facial expressions indicated that the guard was genuinely ignorant to anything going on. But, how does he know my name?
"Yeah,” Jason responded. “Everything is fine.”
He didn’t know if he should proceed, but his body language training told him the guard, somehow, knew him, and suspected nothing.
When in a crucial jam and doubt pops up, Jason’s mentor used to tell him, ‘trust the gauges -- like a pilot.’ Jason responded to the guard, “I took the last couple days off, for personal reasons."
"That's OK, man. I know what that's like. You’re the hardest working man I know. Enjoy your night. Keep up the great work protecting us."
The irony.
"’Til death.” Jason added, “Hey, brotha, don't let anyone know I'm in here, OK? This is a national security issue, got it?"
The man put up his right hand. "I've never let you down yet, have I?"
Jason nodded in acknowledgment, then headed for the stairwell.
“No elevator today?” The deskman shouted out.
“Nah. Good old exercise for the sake of the old woman.”
As he ran up the stairs two steps at a time he heard the first bit of garble from the guards in his ear.
"10-18 I think we have a possible 10-90. Have you seen GL? He hasn't clocked out and we haven't heard from him since he cleared his round on southwest PL B. Over."
"That’s a 10-50. He hasn't logged the rest of his round into the system either. Over."
"Maybe we should go check it out."
"10-4. I’m on it. Over and out."
Jason wondered if they would stumble upon his Mercedes or the guard’s body in the trunk. Moreover, he wondered how long that guard would stay knocked out. He only had a limited amount of time.
Jason finally reached the desired floor. He approached the door with caution. Peeking out of the small crack he left from quietly pushing the door open, a bit, he saw the whole floor – cold, quiet and dark.
Slowly, Jason slipped into the hallway and carefully shut the stairwell door behind him. As soon as the door hit the latch, he heard footsteps slapping against a concrete surface echoing in the stairwell running up the steps.
Jason scurried into a room directly across the hall from the stairwell. As he fumbled to close the door, he felt for the lock. The footsteps came bursting through the stairwell doors and charging to the room he had taken refuge in.
The handle jiggled ferociously. Jason heard more transmission in his ear.
"Is there someone in the 4th floor north wing bathroom? Over."
Each guard responded to the request through the walkie-talkie. "I'm not."
"Nope."
"Nah."
"Not me."
"I'm in the 2nd floor southwest bathroom."
The guard shook the handle more.
"Well, the 4th floor north wing bathroom is locked."
Turning off his sound projector, Jason tried his best to stay as silent as possible. Over the guard’s radio on the other side of the concrete door, he heard a respond message:
"Well maybe someone accidentally locked it on the way out, just use the bathroom at the south wing."
The guard sputtered down the hallway and around the corner.
Jason turned on his ear transmitter to hear the guard’s fellow workers make fun of his personal emergency.
"Run, Forrest, run." Said one guard over the transmission.
Jason cracked open the door only to hear the guard’s footsteps patter further away.
Once the footsteps became almost completely muffled Jason emerged from the bathroom. His device was ready to lead him to Tameka's old lab. He slowly followed the directions as it lead him down the slightly illuminated hallways of the DHS.
He saw an American flag on the right at the end of the hallway across from a small indoor tree. A picture hung on the wall of George Washington at the three way intersection. When he reached the intersection, Tameka's lab was the third door on the left.
As did all of the labs, it had a swiper. He couldn't risk swiping his own card, at this time. It was crucial that he got into that room, as quick as possible, however.
Jason looked the opposite way -- to the right -- down the hallway and saw the guard’s jacket and swipe card hanging outside of the south wing bathroom. It was probably a good thirty yard walk.
Jason tip-toed a few steps down the long hall. Approaching the intersection he arrived there from, he peeked around the corner.
Silence. A sudden fart off in the distance made him jump.
After a chuckle, he very quickly, but as quietly as possible, tip-toed across the intersection to inch to within only 20 feet away. The badge hung still; flipped backwards. Only a few more steps.
Jason's brain shuffled away at thoughts analysing every intricate detail of his mission. The man really had to go, so it wasn't going to be a quick stop in the bathroom. He would need some time. He listened, intently, to any noises besides the sounds of nature taking place in that bathroom. Finally he reached only ten feet away; he listened for the toilet paper to roll out – it hadn’t -- he listened for...
The flush!
It hit him so quick he didn't know how to respond. After a brief freeze in the middle of the hallway, he skipped the rest of the ten feet under the flushing sound of the toilet. His only hiding place would be behind the bathroom door when the guard came out. He was going to have to fight the guard.
He waited behind the hinged side of the door, which was soon to open anytime, soon. He listened. He looked around for a better plan – a better place to hide. The hallway was long, straight, and mostly bare and vacant. There was no place to go. He heard the toilet flush die down, but he didn't hear footsteps, or the sink turn on. He waited another few seconds before he heard another fart echo off of the bowl of the toilet.
It was a courtesy flush. He's still going.
Jason quietly grabbed the card and started back down the hallway. His movements were a lot faster, this time. He reached the three way intersection again.
He reached the door of Tameka's old office room, 4-1977. He slid the I.D. card and the red light changed to a flashing green light of approval.
Jason slid into the room, took a picture of the card, front and back, with his device before throwing the card as far down the hall way as he possibly could.
In the southwest wing in the forth basement level of the DHS building, Michael slouched down in his control room captain chair fast asleep. A few of the men who where supposed to be monitoring the local feeds, were sleeping, as well.
One man cracked his eyes open to find that Tameka's old lab had been accessed. The indicator light flashed an urgent red. "Unauthorized Access."
"Sir, -- Mr. Young -- we have a code eighty-one in room 4-1977 north wing."
Upton!
Michael sprang up from his chair waking the rest of the control room crew.
"I need everyone to track this building, make sure all of the cameras are set to get rolling and recording. Make sure we have clear audio. I'm going. Stand by for further instructions."
He gathered his jacket and briskly headed for the door.
"Oh, don't start recording or anything until I tell you, got it?"
"Yes sir." The head analyst responded.
Jason, panned around the lab. It was neat and clean; empty, almost. The room was constructed in an L shape. When he walked in he could see the introductory area of the room. But as he walked to the back of that room, there was a place that allowed him to turn left into another long, narrow, wing of the room. The narrow space was lined with lockers.
Checking his watch, he slowly made his way to the compu
ter screen, keeping his ears wide open for any unwanted visitors. The lab wasn't filled with much, as it didn't look like a lab anymore. Of course his sight was limited to the red exit sign light that sat above the door he entered through. It illuminated the room in an ambient red glow.
More garble entered his ear.
"Ten-fifty We have no sighting of GL. He's nowhere to be found."
"Ten-four we'll make a report of it, immediately. Over."
Jason’s time was running short, so he quickly logged onto the computer. The card he had photo’d displayed the guard’s name as, Terrance Losman". His employee number: 66502. As he logged in under the identity of ‘Terrance Losman’, he heard in his ear, "MG to TL, didn't you say a bathroom was locked?"
"That's a ten-four sir,” Terrence responded, with a brief fart being cut off in the transmission. He continued a second later. “Yeah, uhh… in the fourth floor north wing bathroom."
"We're gonna go check it out. Maybe GL is in there."
Jason quickly moved the arrow on the computer to the various icons to fish into Tameka's activities. He clicked the activity log for the date of Thursday, May 22nd 2003, the day of her visits from the strange men, and the day before she died. Before the files loaded up, he noticed that on her desktop, not only, was the Homeland Security seal displayed, but it seemed Tameka, or possibly someone else, had the definition of the significance to each design of the seal.
"Twenty-two stars representing the twenty-two departments in the DHS.
The Eagles wings breaking through the inner circle into the outer ring, suggesting that the Department of Homeland Security will break through traditional bureaucracy and perform government functions differently.
The eagle's talon on the left holds an olive branch with thirteen leaves and thirteen seeds, while the eagle's talon on the right grasps thirteen arrows--"
Although the files Jason needed popped up on the screen, he was frozen for a minute on the thought of the design of the seal.
Twenty-two stars; twenty-two departments. Thirteen arrows. Thirteen? Megiddo? The two numbers were significant to a secret society named Megiddo. The mission of Megiddo was to get as many of its members into high positions of importance. They were a life-long fraternity.