by Lund, S.
"Thank you for being so honest. We've been watching Brandon O'Neil for several months, but lost track of him in Virginia. We believe he was sent to pick you up because of your work with Professor Mark Singer, your supervisor."
"Why would anyone care that I work with Professor Singer? I'm just a grad student."
"You're doing work with Dr. Singer on the neuroscience of suicidal violence involved in terrorism, I believe."
"Yes," she said. "We're doing a longitudinal study of terrorists and mass shooters who wanted to commit suicide in an act of terrorism. We're studying their brain scans using what's called functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRIs. But I don't see why our research would be of interest to anyone outside of law enforcement as a preventative measure. It's basic research."
"I don't have all the details. That's why Dr. Singer is on his way here. Anna," Connors said, and met her eyes, his expression serious. "I'm going to read you in on a highly-classified military program that we think has been leaked to elements outside of the government who, shall we say, have very bad intentions as to how to use it. The program uses biotechnology to affect brain structure and to control behavior. The program I'm going to tell you about is classified at the highest level, so I can only tell you the less-classified aspects. I'm going to need to speed up your application for a position with the CIA in the Special Research Division. We want you to start working as of today. You can finish your dissertation on a part-time basis over the next year while you work for us."
That sent a shock of adrenaline through Anna.
"Does Dr. Singer know about this?" she asked, totally overwhelmed by the prospect of starting to work for the CIA right away—and on a highly-classified program.
"He's been grooming you for this for the past two years and was your reference for the job application, as you already know,” Parker said. “We figured we could wait until you graduated to hire you, but seeing as O'Neil forced our hand, we have to move our timelines forward."
"I'm—I…" she said, stumbling a bit. "I don't know what to say. Of course, I want to work for the CIA. That's been my life's goal."
Connors smiled. "We know. We're glad to finally get you inside our walls. Now, there's some paperwork you have to take care of, and you have to swear an oath, but once that's out of the way, we hope you and Dr. Singer can get started on the project."
He went around behind his desk and pulled out a file, then flipped through it. He handed a document to Anna and she read the first paragraph.
1. Intending to be legally bound, I hereby accept the obligations contained in this Agreement in consideration of my being granted access to classified information. As used in this Agreement, classified information is marked or unmarked classified information, including oral communications, that is classified under the standards of Executive Order 13526, or under any other Executive order or statute that prohibits the unauthorized disclosure of information in the interest of national security…
Anna read the entire document, which was several pages long and filled with dense legal verbiage about the consequences of revealing classified information and the penalties she would suffer if she did.
She signed and dated the document, realizing that she had no real choice. This was what she had wanted to do for the past decade. It was what she was working toward with her education. When she swore the oath, she took the Bible in hand and truly believed each word she repeated.
“I, Anna Marie McLean, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God."
"Congratulations," Connors said, and shook her hand. Parker shook it as well.
"Thank you," Anna said, her pulse fast with excitement. "I can't tell you how long I’ve waited to be able to say that oath."
"We know," Connors said and both men nodded. "We've been waiting as well. Welcome to the CIA. Your official title is Research Scientist with the Special Research Unit, Clandestine Services."
Anna smiled, truly happy to be finally working for the Agency.
The only issue was trying to understand what was going on with Brandon. Anna still wasn't sure whether he was a bad guy or a misunderstood hero.
She hoped her first few days with the Agency would clarify that one way or the other.
Chapter Fifteen
The first few hours in Virginia were a blur.
After Connors swore Anna in as an employee of the CIA, and after she read over and signed some payroll, insurance, and pension documents, he led her to a room where Professor Singer was waiting.
"Anna," Professor Singer said, coming over, his arms extended. They embraced briefly.
"Anna, allow me to introduce FBI Special Agent Jim Holmes. Jim, this is Anna McLean, the young PhD student I told you about."
Holmes stood and extended a hand for a quick shake.
"Come and sit," he said and pulled out the chair across the table from another man. Anna sat and waited for him to explain what was going on. He sat back behind the desk.
"Just so you know, our interview is being recorded," Holmes said and pointed to a video camera in the corner and a two-way mirror on the wall.
"So the FBI and CIA are both involved in this?" Anna asked, glancing between Professor Singer and Holmes after she sat down in the chair across from them.
"The FBI deals with domestic terrorism and counterterrorism," Holmes said, pushing his chair back and crossing his arms, glaring at Anna almost like he hated her, "and the CIA with intelligence-gathering on threats outside the US. They have limited reach inside the US. The two agencies collaborate on cases that affect the security of the United States. When there are links to foreign elements operating on US soil, we work together."
Anna nodded and took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Holmes flipped through a couple of pages. While he did, Anna looked him over. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks, white shirt, black tie, and a blue FBI windbreaker. He wore his salt-and-pepper greying hair short, buzzed on the sides like a Marine. He seemed like a straight arrow, his clothing and appearance impeccable, like some model FBI special agent on television or a movie.
Anna’s father always said that the FBI encouraged conformity, while the CIA tolerated individuality. Holmes was the assistant director of an FBI antiterrorism unit. He seemed cold and devoid of any emotion other than contempt.
Professor Singer leaned back, his smile pleasant.
"I'm so glad we were able to find you, Anna, and rescue you."
"I'm glad you found me, too. Maybe you can answer my questions."
"I'll try."
"Why is the CIA involved?"
"When there are foreign agents acting on US soil, we collaborate.”
"Who's a foreign agent?"
Holmes raised his eyebrows. "Who else? Brandon."
Anna frowned. "He's American."
"He's also Czech."
She shook her head. "He said his mother came to the US with his father."
"She did. His father was a CIA agent working in Prague. They met there. She gave birth there. They never married. It wasn't until he was five years old that he came to the US with his mother, and his father recognized his parentage. He has dual US-Czech citizenship."
"He said he worked for CENTCOM. He said he was in the Navy."
"He was. He joined up, received a dishonorable discharge."
That made her heart sink. He had a dishonorable discharge? That's not what Theo said about Brandon. He said he was a hero and honorable.
"My brother trusted him," Anna said. "I know my brother isn't a member of that militia group. He's a patriot."
"Well, I'm sorry, but your brother is a member as well," Holmes said. At that moment, Anna knew what that letter contained
was true.
Theo was most likely dead. Holmes knew it. Professor Singer knew it.
A stab of grief cut through her. Theo...
"Where's Theo?" she asked, fighting tears, trying to be strong. "Tell me the truth."
"We've lost him," Holmes said, not meeting her eyes. "We believe he's somewhere in North Carolina and that he found a way to deactivate his tracker and reprogram his neural chip. They're supposed to be almost indestructible, but he found a way around it. Don't worry. We'll find him and bring him in. That's what we want to talk to you about. We want you to help us. If you do—if you can help us find your brother and the men he works for—he'll get leniency. If you don't, he'll get the full force of the law."
"Neural chip?" Anna frowned. She hadn't heard of the use of neural chips by anyone — yet. They were something being developed, of course. But they were in use by the military? And was her brother one of the guinea pigs?
"You haven't been read into the program fully yet, but yes. We've developed neural implants that, well, help with managing the soldier's response to what they see and experience on the battlefield. It's meant to help prevent PTSD."
"It didn't work with Theo, if that's the case. He developed PTSD."
"Unfortunately, it hasn't been as effective as we hoped. That's part of why I wanted you to become involved in this research, Anna. We need our best minds working on how to deal with this."
"I haven't seen or heard from Theo for months," Anna said, blinking back tears. "I couldn't even find him for the funeral when my father died. The last I knew, he was on Skid Row in LA. But when I went there, no one had seen him." She shrugged. "I can't help you."
"We believe we know where he is, in general, or at least, the people who he's hiding out with, although we don't have a location. We want you to go in and find him. Get in with him and his people."
"You want me to be operational?" she said, aghast at the idea. "I'm not a covert operative. Besides, the CIA isn't permitted to operate on US soil.”
"We have special FISA warrants that allow us to conduct surveillance on US persons. Not just electronic surveillance. We have covert operatives working on US soil monitoring threats from external actors."
"I'm not brave. I'm scared to death of these people."
"You should be," Holmes said. "They're willing to kill and to die for their cause. I thought that if anyone understood the importance of fighting domestic terrorism and anti-government terrorists, it would be you. Especially when they're working directly with foreign terrorist organizations — and governments. Maybe we misjudged your patriotism."
He sat back and examined her. Beside him, Professor Singer shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm a patriot," Anna said defensively. "I'm just not cut out for anything heroic. I want to do research. You know—neuroscience. I'm not Mata Hari."
He smiled. "We don't want you to be Mata Hari. All we want is for you to try to find your brother and when you do, you join him. That way, we'll find them."
"You must have trained agents who can try to infiltrate the militias and get their leadership that way."
"Not easy to get access to their leaders. They keep them ultra-secret. Only the inner circle knows who they are and where they are, and your brother is in that inner circle. We can pick off lower-level operatives, but they know nothing. The leaders of this militia are smart and know how to keep the body and the brain separate. We have access to the body, but we need to get at the brain if we ever hope to stop them. Otherwise, it's like whack-a-mole."
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Go to North Carolina. Find your brother. Tell him you want to help."
"And if he doesn't want me to join and help? Maybe he'll want to protect me," she said, remembering Theo's letter. "Maybe he'll want to keep me out of all this."
"He's an extremist. He's willing to kill and be killed to achieve his goals. You of all people should understand extremism," he said derisively. He turned to Professor Singer. "Isn't that right? Didn't you say she was your brightest graduate student?"
"I did. She is. But this is personal for her." Professor Singer turned to Anna. "I understand your reluctance, but we need you, Anna. We need a way into their inner sanctum. You're our best hope. Theo is one of them. They trust him and they'll trust you as a result. Brandon showed up on your doorstep for a reason. We think he wants to take you to Theo. We're going to let him."
"What?" She glanced between the two of them. "You're going to let him go?"
"We're going to let him escape. You're going to go with him."
She shook her head. "I'm not cut out for this."
"Look, sweetheart," Holmes said, his tone impatient. "Whether you're cut out for it or not, you have two choices. Help us or don't help us. If you don't help us, you'll be charged with collaborating with a known terrorist. The Patriot Act gives us broad powers of incarceration of terrorists and their supporters, so unless you want to spend the next indeterminate time in prison, in solitary confinement at one of our remote facilities, you better set your mind to being an operative.”
"So I have no real choice," she said, frustration filling her.
"We always have a choice," Professor Singer said softly, his expression sympathetic. "Sometimes, the choices are crystal clear. We need you Anna. I need you."
Anna turned to him, angry now. "Have you been planning this all along? Recruiting me and having me become an operative?"
He shook his head firmly, avoiding her eyes. "No. I want you working in neuroscience research, like I said. But Brandon coming changed everything. He came to you. He wanted you to come with him. We now have an opportunity to find out where Theo and the rest of the leaders are and get access to the top ranks of the militia they belong to. This is a chance we can't pass by. This is a serious threat to the US. I wouldn't ask you to put yourself at risk for anything less."
Anna sat in silence for a few moments, debating with herself. As much as she didn't want to believe Brandon and Theo were traitors, she did not want to go to prison and be incarcerated for an indeterminate time.
"Tell me what you want me to do. I'll cooperate."
Across from her, Professor Singer visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Anna. You made the right choice. Your country will thank you, even if we can't do it publicly."
She sighed while Holmes shuffled his papers. Finally, he looked up at her. "We'll arrange things so Brandon can escape from the remote facility where we're keeping him. It's not well protected. One of his fellow militia members will be given intel on where he will be. He'll be rescued and you'll go with him. He'll take you to Theo. That's how we'll get inside."
"You may be wrong about Theo," she said. "They may not let me in."
"They'll let you in."
"When is all this going to happen?" she asked. "Why didn't you just track us to wherever he was going to take me?"
"We had to pick you up so we could get you on board. We want you inside, on our side," Holmes said, his tone frustrated. "This isn't a short-term mission. This isn't just a bunch of country hicks who hate the government, Anna, and like to play at being soldiers. This is a group of former, and current, government officials—military brass and highly skilled and trained military and intelligence operatives. They're planning something big. We believe that something involves a dirty bomb and federal targets, in the hopes of starting a civil war. We need to get inside, and soon. Simply putting O'Neil in jail won't stop this. Only getting inside and finding out the plan will."
"I have no training."
"The only training you need is to memorize your story and forget this one. Keep in mind your primary goal is to find Theo and make sure he's okay. They'll tell you that your father was murdered and that your life is in danger. That they're the only ones who can protect you against the corrupt government and its huge conspiracy. Go along with them. We'll have someone contact you when we need to get a message to you. You don't have to do anything but go and find Brandon and Theo and appear sympathetic to their
cause. Be willing to join them. Just by being with Theo, you'll get access that we could never get."
"They'll tell you a really great story and be really convincing.” Professor Singer leaned forward, his eyes meeting Anna’s. “They may even show you some evidence that might make you believe what they say is true, but don't believe it, Anna. We're the good guys, and we're fighting on the right side. Your dad worked for us, not for them."
"Brandon said my father was murdered."
Professor Singer sat back, his arms crossing. He glanced to the other man, who gave him a quick eyebrow raise, like they had expected her to say that.
"Like I said, they may tell you a good story, but it's a lie designed to play on your fears and emotions. Get you on their side. Your father died of a heart attack. The autopsy confirmed it. You saw it yourself."
"So the US government didn't have my father killed?" Anna looked in Professor Singer's eyes, wanting to see truthfulness in them.
"Believe me, we needed your father. There's no way the US government would have wanted him killed. That's a lie Brandon told you to make you cooperate with him. If anyone killed him, it was them—not us."
Anna wanted to cooperate, but she was confused. She wasn't sure if she could even trust her old advisor. In truth, she didn't know if she could trust anything he said—or anything anyone said, for that matter. She remembered Theo's letter warning her not to, and to trust only Brandon. But could she even trust the letter? Couldn't it have been forged by someone who knew private details about her brother and her?
In the end, she told them the whole story, leaving out only two details. The first detail was about the kit with the syringes and medication. For some reason, she held that back. The kit was still in her backpack, which hadn't left her side. She kept waiting for them to open it and inspect the contents, but they didn't. She guessed they didn't suspect that she’d have any contraband. The second detail was the letters. They were personal and she trusted her brother, even if she wasn't sure that the letters were from him. Something about the letters felt true. She didn't trust anyone else at that moment. Theo said not to trust anyone except Brandon, so she couldn't even trust Professor Singer.