by J C Ryan
Fortunately, before she could start on that, in the second week of March, a hand-delivered package from an anonymous sender reached her. In it were highly disturbing allegations. At first, she considered tossing it—anonymous tips could be dangerous. But then she thought a second time. Ignoring it could be just as dangerous.
She decided to follow up on some of the allegations to see if they could be verified.
Chapter 17 - Don’t force my hand
March 9
Howard Crane paced as he waited for Shadow to arrive. He’d known when he gave Daniella another ten days for the President to come up with answers that he was pushing the limits. Yesterday, just two days shy of his deadline, Shadow had contacted him and demanded another meeting. Now Howard feared he was about to lose his award-winning story.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Shadow appeared silently behind him. They were now face-to-face, or rather face-to-mask, in the dim light of the parking garage.
“Shit! Don’t do that!” he exclaimed. Shadow just shrugged.
“My employers are unhappy with you, my friend,” said the computerized voice from behind the ski mask. “They want me to give you a message.” He reached into his pocket.
Crane tensed and the hair in his neck stood on end. Was the “message” a bullet at point-blank range? He sighed quietly when Shadow instead pulled another flash drive from his pocket.
“More details,” Shadow stated. “If you don’t publish this and the previous information within five days, we’ll find someone who will. There are plenty of other journalists who’d be happy to bring this President and his cronies down.”
Crane reached for the drive only to have Shadow pull it back. “Do we understand each other?” It was a threat not a question.
Crane nodded and tried to conceal the gulp he swallowed.
“We do. Please, give me a day or two to digest this new information and write the story. But you must realize, my publisher will make me substantiate everything. I can’t do it in five; I need a week.”
“This hits the headlines in five days, or you’re out,” Shadow hissed.
Crane started to wonder if “you’re out” might have a different meaning than what it sounded like. Nevertheless, it was the best he was going to get, so he nodded his assent. “You’ll see it.” He held his hand out again for the flash drive. It was almost as if Shadow was reluctant to put it into the waiting hand.
“See that we do.”
Howard didn’t wait to get home to look at the information. He plugged the flash drive into his laptop right there in the parking garage and skimmed the information. What he found angered him.
There was more detail about the raid into Saudi Arabia, an ally—one of a very few in the Middle East.
Why hadn’t he asked the Saudis to take care of the raid? It hinted of a lack of trust that would shake the alliance and jeopardize the major source of oil for the US.
People had lost their lives—the horror of beheading or even just being jailed in a Saudi prison. The President had authorized the raid but only told the Security Council after that fact.
Even more disturbing, Howard now learned of the existence of yet another black ops agency. A-Echelon it was called, and it was funded off the books out of the black ops budget. The director of A-Echelon reported to the director of the CIA and the President only. No wonder they could spend their time unhindered by any other form of oversight while engaged in the most ridiculous endeavors, which only a conspiracy nut would believe. And on the unsuspecting tax payers’ money.
The controversial billionaire Carter Devereux, also part of the ridiculous A-Echelon, committing acts of antiquities theft from Egypt. Bringing his illegally-obtained booty to the US and making the President himself an accessory after the fact, not to mention Bill Griffin and two people Howard hadn’t heard of. James Rhodes and Irene O’Connell, Director and Deputy Director of this A-Echelon circus.
And finally, Carter Devereux’s wife, Mackenzie. Even she had gotten into the act, illegally copying a priceless historic document from an Armenian library and smuggling it into the US, with the full knowledge and consent of the President and the other three.
There were few details, but just the bare bones of the stories were explosive—enough to send the media and public into hysteria.
He couldn’t see how the President would excuse these allegations, but he certainly looked forward to the entertaining song and dance he’d no doubt get.
It would make a great story, definitely Pulitzer material. Maybe a bestselling book and a few movie deals in the years to come.
Howard Crane, play this right and it’s your ticket to early retirement.
Despite the late hour, Howard called Daniella. “Time’s up. I need those answers now.”
“You said—“
“I know, I said ten days. But the situation has changed, and in any case, you’ve had nine.”
“Howard,” she pled, “I can’t go to the President with this tonight. It’s late.”
“Tomorrow morning without fail, Daniella. Please don’t force my hand. You still have the opportunity to respond, but I can’t move the deadline.”
Howard disconnected the call. His dreamt-of relationship with Daniella was dead in the water, and his career would be, too, if he didn’t comply with Shadow’s demands. If his editor ever learned he’d sat on the story this long, he might as well resign right now anyway.
Chapter 18 - Damn straight
As Daniella lowered the phone, she realized this couldn’t wait until morning. She had no choice but to wake the President and present him with Howard’s ultimatum. She sighed. The President would be mad, of course, but he’d forgive her when he heard what Howard had told her. She’d known when she took the job as press secretary it meant she’d have no life for at least four years, which had turned out to be eight.
But she hadn’t known it would be this hard.
Just after midnight, she joined President Grant, Bill, James, and Irene in the Oval office, along with Scott Eadie. Wordlessly, she handed over the typed pages Howard had given her earlier that evening. They contained the story Crane would run, with or without the President’s comments.
The President read it aloud.
This time, Bill offered to take the fall. James and Irene backed him up, offering to share the blame as well, if the President would just allow them to do so. And once more, President Grant declined.
“Do you remember the sign President Truman kept on his desk? In his farewell address to this country as he left office, Truman made a statement that every President would do well to remember. He said when a decision is before you, the decision has to be made. You can’t pass the buck to someone else. The buck stops here.”
Catching and holding the gaze of each of his visitors in turn, he paused long enough to let it sink in.
“The buck stops with me. It’s my job, and I’ll do my job. Your job is to help me decide the path of least damage to the country. Your advice I’ll gladly accept. Sacrificing yourself for me, never.”
After deliberating more options, they concluded that something would have to be forfeited—the hungry beasts had to be fed something.
Bill had done a thorough background check on Howard Crane after the first meeting and was satisfied the man was truly a patriot. The President agreed and pointed out Crane’s choice of how to handle the situation with such devastating information at hand attested to his devotion to his country.
They had no doubt someone was pulling Crane’s strings. The question was whether he knew that was the case or if the potential of fame mesmerized him. The only way to know was to meet with him and find out which was prompting him.
They’d moved Heaven and earth to ensure it was safe to bring Crane into the fold before his deadline passed. At eleven that Saturday morning, Daniella called him. “You’re invited to a private briefing. You’ll be provided with all the answers and then some. I hope you’re ready for it.”
Since th
e last call with Daniella, Howard had convinced himself President Grant would stonewall him and deny everything—trying to make him look like an idiot. Therefore, he’d spent the morning checking facts and drafting the beginning of the story. This invitation was a surprising turn of events and caught him off guard, but he was eager to get the rest of the story, so he agreed.
“I’ll text you an address,” Daniella said. “It’s going to be a long meeting. Come prepared to spend the night.” She disconnected before he could reply.
Howard spent all of two minutes considering whether he was being lured into a trap and might disappear. However, he managed to put it down to irrational paranoia born from watching too many thriller movies. He threw a change of clothes and his dopp kit into an overnight bag and waited for Daniella’s text message.
***
An hour later, he found himself in the company of the Director of the CIA, along with Daniella and the two he’d read about but didn’t know, James Rhodes and Irene O’Connell.
They were in what he presumed was a safe house in Bethesda, Maryland. Daniella introduced him to each of the others, who invited him to call them by their first names.
He remained skeptical. Flagrant attempts to soften me up… the actions of people in trouble, needing a favor from me. We’ll have to see about that.
“We’re going to be here a while,” Bill said. “Let’s have lunch before we get started.”
Without much choice, Howard agreed. The atmosphere was strained. Looking at the table with the lunch, the thought of drug- or, worse, poison-laced food crossed his mind. The thoughts vanished when he saw his hosts digging into the soup and sandwiches—he began to relax. These were just normal people, not the monsters he’d allowed his brain to imagine.
He remained on his guard, with his bullshit-meter activated. Guest or no guest, he didn’t intend to let them get away with any.
After lunch, they moved to the family room, which had been outfitted as a conference room, with a whiteboard hung on the wall, a retractable screen, and video setup. There were comfortable chairs around a conference table. Bill began by explaining the roles James and Irene served in A-Echelon after reciting their qualifications. Then he turned the meeting over to James.
Over the next few hours, they briefed him on everything, starting with a quick overview of the truth about human history. Then the discoveries made by Carter Devereux, which supported the mind-bending age of human civilization.
By the time, James got to the discovery of the fifty thousand-year-old City of Lights in the Egyptian desert, Crane was shaking his head with incredulity.
James paused and looked at him. “I know, Howard.” James smiled. “Irene and I have gone through this a few times over the years. And so far, we have never had anyone who could get their heads around it right from the start.
“But the good news is once we gave them the full picture, there has been no one who didn’t believe us. So please put up with us.”
“I’m still listening,” Howard replied curtly.
James continued and told him about the plates now known as the E-Codex, and why Carter had appropriated them, the sinister organization known as the Council of the Covenant of Nabatea, who saw themselves as the principals of the Nabateans and their evil intensions.
He continued and told him about the ancient nukes, the search for them, the Alboran Sea expedition, the discovery of the A-Codex, and the important role Carter played in all of it.
He ended the report with an emphasis on how those discoveries had saved the world—so far.
The briefing paused once for dinner and carried on into the early hours of Sunday morning before they agreed to get a few hours’ sleep.
Howard welcomed the break. He wouldn’t sleep—he knew that. He struggled with a sense of having stepped unwittingly through the looking glass.
He’d always dealt in facts, and though he wasn’t above manipulating them for maximum effect, he’d never manufactured news.
But this… What do you call this, Howard? Do you want to risk your career, go out there and dish this up as fact?
His beleaguered mind was trying to make sense of it all.
His logical mind was saying, there is no way this could be real.
To which, the little inner voice was saying, but then the four of them have missed their calling—they should have been actors. No one can make up all this stuff, let alone present it with so much conviction if it was bogus.
The little voice kept on asking, what if it’s true?
If so, this would be a nightmare of immeasurable and unthinkable proportions.
By sunrise, he’d made his decision to make his hosts cut to the chase. Though he’d slept very little, he made his way to the kitchen in hope of finding coffee. As he approached, the aroma of bacon lured him in. He found the others up already and sitting around the table, waiting for him.
Irene handed him a cup of coffee and gestured to the table. “Have a seat. Dig in. Bill made breakfast. It’s not often that the Director of the CIA makes us breakfast.”
He accepted the invitation eagerly. He ate one slice of bacon, took a sip of coffee, and looked at Bill, the most senior of his hosts. “What do you expect of me?”
Bill replied without hesitation. “Howard, like it or not, I did a background check on you before this meeting. And although we have different political views, I know you love your country as much as any one of us does. That’s why we’ve shared with you the most secret and most damaging information possible.
“We’re appealing to your sense of patriotism to make the right decision.
“And take note, I’m not asking for preferential treatment for any of us. None of us, including the President, are worried about the damage the revelation of this information will do to our names, fame, and reputation. Rather, we are deeply troubled about the damage the disclosure of the information can cause—not only to the US but the rest of the world.”
Howard stared at him with what he could only hope was a neutral expression in order to hide his true feelings, which were swinging like a pendulum between belief and disbelief.
He exhaled. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. I’m still struggling to believe what you’ve told me. Even if I do, how can I stop this from going public? You know I have a sword over my head—if I don’t publish, he will find someone else who will. In other words, if I… we… want to keep some control I have to publish something.”
Bill was encouraged by Howard’s response. It seemed as if he was finally beginning to come to grips with the gravity of the situation. “Before we discuss that, I want to give you one more bit of information, Howard. Just to illustrate the magnitude of the issue.
“You are familiar with the meteor strike at Patch Barracks in Stuttgart, Germany, two months ago?”
Howard nodded. “Yes, absolutely. I followed it closely, right from the beginning.”
“Howard, here's the nightmare. That was not a meteor strike. It was an antimatter bomb.”
Howard's eyes shot wide. “Bullshit! You’re not going to peddle that crap to me—I’m not buying.” Crane’s face was ashen. This revelation on top of everything else he had heard was threatening to be too much for him to stomach.
Bill looked at Irene, the best technical mind among them. “Irene, will you please step Howard through the details?”
Irene nodded. In laymen’s terms, she explained about the enormous amount of energy released when matter and antimatter collided. She then delved into the research that had been done across the globe before she broke the news about the findings of the DARPA scientists. She concluded with the current investigation into the explosion and the theory that the information was leaked out of the A-Codex into the hands of the evildoers.
Howard needed more coffee. If it wasn’t so early, he would have asked for something much stronger. While sipping at the java, he stared at each of the four faces in turn.
Then it struck him. I’m being used by Shadow and whoever he i
s working for to further their agenda!
Then the realization came like a lightning strike. What these people told me is true! The one that has been deceived is me!
“Bastards!” he exclaimed to the consternation of Bill and the others, thinking they had pushed Howard too far.
Bill started, “Howard—”
Howard saw their expressions and interjected, “No, not you, Bill, or anyone else in this room. I’m referring to my contact and whoever he’s working for. I have been set up—used, deceived. I’m pissed.
“Let’s work out what has to be done to bring them down.” Howard was shaking with shock and rage.
Bill smiled. “Phew, Howard. For a moment back there, you had us worried.”
“I’m convinced my contact’s source could be none other than these Nabateans you told me about, if he isn’t one of them himself.” He snorted. “I should have smelled the rat and known it was a setup.”
Bill started nodding, and Daniella said, “We know. That’s why you’re here, Howard. We’d like to shape how it comes out, if you agree.”
“Damn straight, I agree. What’s your plan?”
As the afternoon wore on, the five of them strategized, with the first decision being to finally inform Carter and Mackenzie of what was going on, before the A-Echelon story would break. Irene informed the others the Devereuxs were about to return home from their European holiday. It wouldn’t do to have them walk into a media circus unaware.
Chapter 19 - What now?
March 14
Howard’s first assignment was to meet again with Shadow. As expected, Shadow had been paranoid about security. He led Howard on a tour of the city, sending him to the Lincoln Memorial, where he was contacted by a kid on a bike, who handed him a note saying to go to Georgetown, and so on for two hours. Howard assumed Shadow was nearby, trying to spot anyone following. But finally, they met up, ironically in the same parking garage where they had their first meeting. Howard was exasperated, but he contained his annoyance for the sake of appearances.