by Vincent Heck
The task, when successful, would make their fraternity one of the most powerful in the world. The Megiddos were rumoured to be devil worshipers. None of it was making any sense.
Another sentence, in bold, sat atop the Homeland Security description. Oddly similar to the sentence he found in the tin box. The new sentence was: “Many Educations Give Instruction; Destruction Doesn’t Offer.”
He took a picture of that sentence, too.
More garble over his earpiece.
"We've broken into the bathroom; no GL. Over."
Jason quickly remembered he didn't have time to linger. As he looked at the file that he had pulled up, he noticed a profile summary of Tameka Washington. He clicked on it in pure curiosity. He figured it’s not like he knew what he was looking for. Any bit of information helped him.
On the top right hand of the profile page, the database showed Tameka's I.Q. numbers which soared off the charts at a whopping 172. No one in modern history had ever scored that high. She was more intelligent than Albert Einstein.
Wow, this girl was an absolute genius. Why was she only a BDO?
Something told Jason, Tameka was a door opened to a whole new America. As funny or unrealistic as it seemed in his head, he felt this in his bones. Tameka was the answer.
"MG to TL. Do you copy?"
With every transmission, Jason felt the walls close in on him. He much rather the guards resume their post like they usually do any other night, when most of them are fighting to keep their eyes open.
But, of course, not tonight.
Tonight, they want to be wide awake, doing rounds, checking floors, and asking questions.
"I hear ya loud and clear MG, what’s up?"
"Do you see a light on in room 4-1977?"
"Ten-Four. Not the main light, but there is extra light in there."
Jason frantically looked around the mid-sized room for a decent place to crouch, or tuck away. He found a place inside an empty locker room towards the back wall. As he dashed to the locker, he heard a swipe and a beep of approval as the door unlocked for the guards. Just as they entered, Jason managed to close the door of the locker, very softly masked under the click of the door jarring open.
"You see anything, Terrance?"
"Besides someone leaving their computer on before they left? No." Terrance responded.
Jason made a mental note of everything he heard and saw in this experience. The unnamed guard, who Jason could only identify as MG, walked deeper into the room and down the arm of the L, towards the locker that he was in.
"You know, Terrance, isn't this the room that Tameka worked in?"
Terrance paused, raising his head slightly.
"Oh yea, that cute woman, with the huge tits, who died."
Another beep sound stunned both the guards and Jason together.
“Agents. It’s Michael DHS Secretary.” He peeked before stopping just to look into the face of the guards.
"What are you guys doing in here?”
Tension and fear mixed in the room’s atmosphere. The guards had a disposition of ‘I’ve been caught.’
“You are unauthorized to be in here." Michael said.
"Sir, we heard a noise," MG started to say, "So we came in here to investigate."
"You heard a noise?"
"Ye--I mean no.”
“We saw a light on.” Terrance added. “But it was just the computer. So we figured someone forgot to log out of their computer, as usual."
Michael walked over to the computer. All of Tameka's files were still visible.
"Did you fellas find anything?"
"No, we just got here." Terrance submissively responded.
"Well, Terrance,” Michael said tapping on the keyboard, “this has your log in number, and says you logged in here, originally, not too long ago."
"No, I was in the bathroom; it has to be someone else."
Michael leaned his left hand onto the table and massaged his jaw with the right hand.
"Well, no one has had this office in a while."
The guards were silent.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s look around. I f you didn’t do it, then you had better found who did.”
The three men started raiding through the entire room. The chairs and doors scraped across the room’s floors. The tin lockers were opened and slammed shut, until they reached the locker Jason was in.
Terrance walked up to the locker, but, only, stared directly into the locker’s open air fins. Never opening the door, Jason found himself face to face with the guard and nothing but a thin, cast iron door in between their faces.
Staying as still as he could, he wondered if Terrance knew he was there.
Can he hear my breathing, or maybe the garble from my earpiece?
Terrance broke into a hyena-like laughter.
"This is hilarious, this comic strip on this locker. Sheesh, I tell you. Funny stuff." He said.
“Terrance, pull yourself together.” The partnering guard shouted. “This is the reason your job is on the line in the first place. You need to take this thing more seriously. Focus.”
Terrance kept moving on to the next locker, violently opening it and slamming it closed when finished.
After thirty minutes of searching, their raid ran cold. How could three adult men, miss a tall bulky man hiding inside a seventeen inch wide locker?
Jason's legs were cramped from standing in the crouch position for forty minutes straight. He was losing his mind. He had a thought flash across his head about Christine, so he switched the channels on his device back to the channel monitoring Christine. The sounds he heard were directly from a horror movie.
He heard heavy breathing,
"No, no, please don't hurt us, I don't know where he is, I swear!"
He heard his beautiful wife’s scream accompany a sudden, continual, thump, thump, thump.
"Tell me where he is!"
"If I knew I would,” She cried. “I'm looking for him just like you. Please let me help you"
Jason felt his knees growing weak, his heart rate raised.
“Jason” Sirus called out in his ear. “Your vital signs are reaching the critical point.”
He shut off the scanning app on his device.
He felt like if he had sat in that locker another second, his legs would give out. He was losing strength just listening to the horror of thump after thump; horrifying scream after another.
What have I drug my wife into?
"Lady,” an unidentified voice hollered. “I'm gonna ask you one more time, then I’m gonna--"
"No, no, no, ok. Please sir--ok-- don't touch me there. Anything. Just don’t touch me there. I’ll help. Please, I'll take you. I know where he is, right now. I'll help you find him. Please."
"Where is he?" The man hollered.
"Bowie."
"Let’s go!"
XVIV
THE WHITEHOUSE CABINET ROOM
7:00 a.m.
CURRENT HSAS: ORANGE-HIGH RISK OF TERRORISM
"This is gross violation of the first amendment, which prohibits the establishment of a national religion by the Congress or the preference of one religion over another, non-religion over religion, or religion over non-religion."
Harold Davis said, “I can’t believe the words coming out of the mouths of you people.”
The President’s Cabinet was present to discuss Operation Faith. Among those in the cabinet sitting at the huge oval table was, Homeland Advisor, Josh Grambling, Secretary of the Treasury, Jon Ross, Secretary of Defense, Joseph Beckard, White House Chief of Staff, Tony Haverton and of course, the President of the United States Milton B. Harris and his Vice President Fredrick Tyson.
The door crept open, and Michael hurried to his seat.
“Nice of you to join us, Michael.” The President said only glancing Michael’s way for a second. Turning his attention back into his folder, he continued. “It would be nice to have our Secretary of Homeland Secu
rity with us in this meeting… of Homeland Security.”
“Sorry folks, I had a long night last night. It was definitely a potential national security priority.”
Michael slothed into his seat, tightening his tie. He still had on the suit from the night before.
The President focused his attention towards Harold.
“Would you like to share with us your thoughts again, now that we have everyone?”
Harold, just as passionate as before, began speaking.
“It’s just not right to tinker with folks’ freedoms. In 1787 we adopted a constitution. In that constitution, in the name of the people -- to protect the people -- we named ten amendments that balanced protection and freedom. Once we cross that line of freedom, then we have violated the protection our forefathers fought for. With Project F.A.I.T.H., we are heading backwards.”
“With the least of the respect due, Mr. Davis,” Grambling interrupted. “Those bill of rights were created with what in mind? And you said it in your little spiel there…”
Harold peered into the steady smiling eyes of Grambling, as he continued, “Protection, Harold. The constitution was created to not only give the people freedom, but to protect the people, too.”
Harold’s face flush with the color red. “I know!” He shouted. The back of his jaw grinded while he returned to silence.
“Harold, what does freedom take a back seat to? Michael, Beckford, our defence gurus, would you folks like to chime in?”
Everyone’s attention switched to Michael, and Joseph Beckford; they sat near one another. Harold sat, leaned over in his chair, to the right of them. His face showed an, unmistakened, disbelief.”
“Protection.” Michael said before Grambling immediately continued.
“Protection!” He slammed his burly paw on the table. “It takes a back seat to safety, Harold. And we have an obligation to do what it takes to keep the citizens of the United States of America safe. Without protection, there’s no freedom. We’ve discussed this plenty of times before. And the respective constituents in various countries also. This is all in the name of freedom, peace and security, Mr. Davis. Never forget that. But, we have to protect first.”
Harold began a slow rock in his chair, which gradually crept into a quick twitch. He banged his pen on the wooden table like a gavel, before making his next point.
“Ok then, that’s fine, but tell me this: Why do you think the people of America, who have so much pride in all we’ve worked for to get this country where it is, will go for this?”
“Well, honestly, Harold,” Josh Grambling said, “The people of the United States always think they know what they want. But, when it comes down to it, they just want to be safe. They want security. They want prosperity. That’s all. And if we can protect that – no matter what it takes to get it – they’ll be just fine. It’s like, we know we all have a craving for freedom. That’s why 16-year-olds look forward to getting their license and 18-year-olds look forward to leaving the house. But, it only goes so far. We give the people the right to bear arms in protection and freedom, but, they cannot just go killing people. It’s a balance. Freedom is a relative thing. They’ll get upset, at first, but then the Super Bowl, or a Jersey Beach character’s suntan, or something, will shut them up.”
“Well, why can’t we take baby steps into this sort of thing?”
Using the arms of his chair, Grambling pulled himself up. “We have been. It’s a delicate process. So many people are involved. The principle is simple, however: We have to unite this country in a new revolution, and convince them that we are one nation, under god, indivisible. Then we have to redefine liberty and justice for all.”
Jason opened his eyes to the sun rays beaming through the metal locker door into his cramped hiding space. His bones had ached from four hours of being stuffed like sardines into his metal sleeping place.
The men had long left the room after not being able to find anything suspicious. Ultimately, the young guard was going to take the hit. Jason hoped he hadn’t put the young guy’s life in jeopardy.
More transmission static in his ear jogged his memory. Chrissie.
He heightened the frequency of his ear piece, but heard nothing. The rapid thumping under his sternum turned into a thundering pound as he checked his device for text messages sent and received from her phone. Her phone had over two hundred sent and received text messages between her and Max.
His desire to be there for her outweighed everything. He had to find a way out of the building, first.
Being in his temporary prison gave him time to think. While he was in there, he had pulled out the memory stick he found in Tameka’s tin box.
After waving the stick over his, currently active, body chip, he became lightheaded. A flash of memory entered his thoughts. Tameka was wearing a lab coat – as if she were a physicist. Was that a real memory? Jason thought. And if so, was that hers? I can see her memories with my body chip?
Jason suddenly had a random epiphany: ‘Many Educations Give Instruction; Destruction Doesn’t Offer’ was an acronym -- it was an acronym that stood in place for ‘Megiddo.’
Once he realized that, he realized, ‘Fear acknowledges instantly; threats hit’, was, also, an acronym for “F.A.I.T.H.”
Club Megiddo, with all of their power and money, was the entity pulling the strings behind, Operation F.A.I.T.H. Now what’s its connection to Tameka, and 9/11? He thought.
He changed the channel on his audio feeds to track the nearby satellites and drones. He heard the guards scoping potential threats, support employees placing phone calls, and the desk man receiving his own general phone calls. There were no signs of executive transmissions.
They must be in a meeting.
“Sirus, I’m going invisible.”
“Hi, Jason. Your body chip will be undetectable for up to one hour.”
Jason unlatched the locker, and walked out of the lab room to a couple dozen scientists occupying the floor. No one paid him any attention. He walked to the elevator with his legs aching and weak beyond belief, he struggled to stand on them.
"Hey, Jason, haven't seen ya here the last few days." An unfamiliar man standing next to him said.
Jason could only pull himself to nod.
"Mr. Grambling was here asking us what happened last week when our computers shut down."
"Hmm. Did you find out what happened?"
"They said it was a cyber-attack. But, maybe I should ask again."
"No. Don't ask. Sometimes the only answer you have is the best answer you need. Trust me."
The elevator doors opened. "Well, I guess you would know better than me." The man said.
The elevator arrived, letting the awaiting riders hit their respective floors; almost all of them going to the ground level.
"I guess that's why you've been gone those last few days. Word is: things are about to take a dramatic change in this department."
Jason only nodded. “Trust me, for now, stay out of it."
"Oh. Ok."
The doors opened for the ground level.
"Well, it was good seeing you again." The man added.
Jason buckled his lips and gave one last nod before walking with the flow of crowd through the DHS building lobby out onto the street.
XX
8:45 a.m.
Christine sped up the 395 Interstate. Though she was driving towards Bowie, she had no clue where she was heading.
“Call him.” One of the kidnappers said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to be sure you’re actually leading us to him. Tell him you’re on your way, or tell him something that will make us believe he’ll stay.” The man said ruffling through her purse.
“What are you doing, freak?” Christine said as she attempted to reach for her purse causing her vehicle to swerve, a bit.
The man pulled out a gun and pointed at her. “Have you forgotten what this is, and who has it? Drive
, broad.”
In the back of the car the other man sat closely to Clareese. His eyes stood fixed on her face – occasionally making their way down to her slender body.
“I see you’ve got yourself a little side piece, huh?” The man in the front laughed. He pulled out a note from Christine’s purse. It was from Max. “’I’ll be there in a few, my love.’” He mocked. “Who’s Max?”
“I found that note. I was going to jot something on it but I forgot.” The man continued to jostle through Christine’s purse. Once he found the phone Christine, once again, attempted to snatch it. In her attempt, she slapped the phone to the ground. The man cocked the gun and shot through the driver side window shattering it into Christine’s face and lap.
As Christine shut her eyes, glass ricocheted through the entire car causing her to skid violently off of the side of the road. The man reached over with cat-like reflexes in attempt to steady the car, but it swerved off of the road and into the grass.
“You crazy bastard.” Christine shouted. “What is wrong with you? We could have all died!”
The man collected the phone at his feet and searched through it. “You’re going to listen to me one way or another. I’m not playing, I’m not afraid of death, and I’m not afraid of killing you. Call him, and tell him something to keep him there.” He continued to look through the phone.
“Max is in here, too. Text after text.” The man looked up and cocked his gun. “Don’t you lie to me anymore.” He grinned as he found Jason’s number in her contacts. “No.” he abruptly shouted, “I’ll tell you what to say, as a matter of fact. Tell him you have a surprise for him and there’s something really important you have to say. Tell him you’ve been a bad wife, and you have a confession to make. How’s that sound?”
He thrusted the phone forward as he hit the dial button.
The phone rang.
“Hello,” Christine said.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK. Look, I’m going to be there in about 45 minutes. I have something to tell you.” Christine glanced at the man as he nodded his head so as to have her continue. “I’ve been…I’ve been a bad wife and…and I need to confess something to you.”