ENEMY WITHIN THE GATES

by Richard Drummer

  Karlson didn’t like to admit it, but it was a moment that demanded brutal honesty. These people controlled her, and they would set her presidential agenda more than she would herself. She’d always considered that a moot point since they supported the same issues. But the bottom line was she had ridden into town on a borrowed horse. Karlson needed to consider the backlash from these power brokers if her campaign abruptly ended so close to the election. It wasn’t even her decision to make. She owed them. And Jordan owed her…She redialed Gene and said, “Three capsules, right?”

  Karlson jammed the phone back into her pocket and loaded the cappuccino machine. While it brewed, she ran upstairs and grabbed the sleeping capsules, then hurried back panting. She drew a deep breath and poked her head out of the kitchen. “Almost done. Just another few minutes. Two sugars, right?”

  “Yes, please,” Jordan answered.

  As the strong brew trickled down, she broke open three capsules and sprinkled their contents into the cup. A bubbly, yellowish foam formed at the top but began dissolving as she stirred. When she finished, it was indistinguishable from the natural froth of the milk. Karlson quickly prepared another cup for herself without bothering to refill the machine with a fresh coffee pod. She didn’t plan on drinking much anyway.

  Karlson came out of the kitchen carrying a silver serving tray and two steaming mugs of cappuccino. “This one is yours with the sugar,” she said, setting the tray down and passing the big mug to Jordan. They both took several sips in silence before Karlson spoke in a cajoling tone. “I know it seems like a terrible thing that’s happened, but in the end, it could save lives by helping to end this war sooner.”

  “Mother, can we start by being honest? You know that turning over those secrets to the enemy had the opposite effect.”

  “First of all,” the senator held up her hand and began her rebuttal, “Al Jazeera is not considered an enemy. I have zero reservations about granting that interview. It was an unfortunate breach of trust if they somehow obtained any information from my office that I wasn’t aware of.”

  “Seriously? That’s how you’re going to play this? That you didn’t know what they were up to?” Jordan shook her head, disappointed. “Please, I saw you watching everything from the security room in your office. You set them up. Each of you thought you were pulling a fast one on the other. Spy versus spy. Honestly, mother, you’re going to have to do much better than that if you hope to fix what you’ve broken.”

  Karlson was in no mood to discuss the point any further, though she was rather impressed by her daughter’s observations. She took a sip from her drink, hoping the action might persuade Jordan to do the same. It worked. She tried to remember how quickly she felt the effects of this medication in the past, taking solace in the fact that she had no recollection. That was evidence enough the pills worked very well, very fast. Still, Jordan showed no signs so far. Keep her talking, she thought. She took another long sip from her own mug and said, “I don’t understand how you saw a video that was removed from our security system.”

  Jordan gave her a matter-of-fact glance. “Your security man didn’t erase the drives very well. They were pretty easy to restore.”

  Karlson felt herself tensing. This was confirmation of the incompetence of her own security professional. “I’m impressed,” she said, struggling to appear calm. “But how did you gain access into that system? It’s supposed to be fire-walled and all those other technical terms. Tell me, did your friend work for the security company?”

  Jordan locked eyes and paused, her lips pursed. “You know, mother, I think we’ve discussed this enough. If you tell me you’re going to make an announcement and try to fix this, then I’ll wait until you do. You have no idea how sickened, how disappointed I am by what you’ve done. But I don’t want to hurt you. Please, don’t force me to go public. Do the right thing, mom, and do it now!”

  Jordan pushed her chair out and stood to leave but fell back. She put her hands to her head as though attempting to keep it from spinning. Her eyes flickered, struggling to focus. She looked up at her mother with an expression of bewilderment.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Karlson asked in a concerned tone.

  “All of a sudden I’m…I can’t…mother, what did you…”

  “I’m so sorry about this, baby. You didn’t leave me much choice, did you? You’ll be fine, I promise. You’re just going to sleep awhile.”

  There was a knock at the front door. Karlson left the room to answer it, returning with Gene Lawton. “I put three in the coffee, and she drank more than half,” she explained. “That should be enough for her to see stars for about eight hours.”

  Jordan slumped in her chair. It was all she could do to lift her head. She couldn’t work out any words. Her eyes wandered, refusing to focus. Thoughts came out fragmented and nonsensical. She struggled to understand what was happening, wishing for once she would have had a secret service agent following her. Then again, who would have guessed the greatest threat to her personal security would come from her own mother?

  30

  Cody knocked twice on Ethan’s apartment door, then let himself in. He found his friend sitting cross-legged on an old brown hand-me-down couch, staring out the window at the adjacent building. There was little to see through the streaky glass except for the chipped and fading bricks of another wall mere yards away. A thin sliver of sunshine found its way between the structures and sliced across Ethan’s face. He seemed oblivious to it or anything else.

  “She was supposed to call three hours ago,” he said without turning his head or altering his pained expression.

  “Hey, maybe her mother threw a couple of new assignments her way, and she couldn’t say no.”

  Ethan eyed Cody, then stared down at a worn rug. “You honestly think Kat Karlson is going to ask for help from a daughter that just threatened to shut down her entire campaign?”

  “No, not really. I’m just trying harder than you to stay positive. But dude, I can’t imagine anything nasty going down. This is her mother we’re talking about. Sure, she’s gonna be pissed, but do you think she would hurt her own kid over this?”

  “I hope not, but the stakes couldn’t be higher. Who knows what someone is capable of in a situation like this. That’s a lot of power to surrender without a fight.”

  Cody’s cell phone began blaring out the old Deep Purple rocker, ‘Space Truckin’. Glancing at the display, he announced, “It’s Murray.” As soon as he brought it to his ear, his face turned ashen. He didn’t blink for the entire length of the one-sided conversation. A loud bang cut through the phone that made him flinch, and Murray abruptly disconnected.

  “Now we worry,” Cody said as he began pacing. “Murray is getting raided by feds. He saw them grouping in the parking lot and began dumping files. He managed to copy the video to a thumb drive and hide it. He wouldn’t say where in case our phones were tapped but told me we would figure it out. They were beating on the door when he cut off. Dude, if they tracked him down so easily, we might be next. We should go into hiding for a while.”

  “What the hell have we done wrong?” Ethan asked incredulously. “That makes no sense at all.”

  “Hold that thought and go pack a bag. If Murray’s right, then Jordan is in deep shit, and we won’t be any good to her if we’re detained by a bunch of black suits.”

  Ethan stared motionless, still not registering the urgency.

  “Dude,” Cody yelled, “move your ass!”

  Ethan snapped out of his ‘deer in the headlights’ moment, got up, and ran to his bedroom closet. He pulled out a duffel and began stuffing it with clothes. They would not have time to run back to Cody’s house, so he packed enough for both of them. Ethan was three inches taller and twenty pounds lighter than Cody, but that didn’t matter much right now. He ran into the bathroom, grabbed a pre-loaded toiletry bag, then to the kitchen nook, where he unplugged and stowed his laptop. “I’m ready,” he said, breathing heavy. “Any idea where to
go?”

  “I was thinking about Theresa and Joe’s place. It’s secluded enough that my car won’t be seen.”

  “We’re going to leave mine?”

  “Think about it,” Cody said. “They find my car at your apartment, and yours is missing. Even a government brain could figure out that means we’re traveling together. Let’s be a little less obvious and take my car.”

  Ethan nodded. “Thanks for being the one that’s able to think this through. I’m still in a daze.”

  “I know. Most drummers are mentally challenged anyway.” He gave Ethan a sly wink and a push as they headed for the stairwell.

  31

  Joe Fillmore liked his coffee strong, and that’s how he made it for everyone. Although accustomed to the full-bodied brews from their favorite coffee shop, Ethan and Cody were jolted to a new level of consciousness from just half a cup. ‘Costa Rican Rocket Fuel,’ as Joe liked to call it, was pungent, powerful, and damned good.

  Joe knew the guys through their band. He and his wife, Theresa, always filled them with a big meal when they played in the area. Their house was simple, secluded, and he lived off the radar, running a cash business as an electronic repairman, taking in anything from vintage guitar amplifiers to microwave ovens. The work didn’t make him wealthy, but he was comfortable and doing what he enjoyed.

  Theresa brought over a tray of cheese and crackers and joined the three men at the dining table.

  “Any information yet?” she asked, watching as Joe, Ethan, and Cody tapped away at their laptops.

  Ethan looked up as he reached for a cube of cheddar. “I’ve called everyone I know. Nobody has seen or heard anything.”

  Cody finished a call and set his phone down. “That was Jordan’s friend, Amy, and she was scared to death. She told me two men forced their way into her apartment and went through her stuff. They wouldn’t identify themselves and then drove off in an unmarked car.”

  “How long ago did you speak with her?” asked Joe.

  “Just now, why?”

  “Turn off your phones, now,” Joe demanded. “They could be monitoring Amy’s calls, and then they can triangulate your position through the cell towers. For that matter, log off your laptops, too. I can set you up with new secure names and passwords.”

  Ethan and Cody killed their computers and were powering their phones off when ‘Space Truckin’ cut through the silence.

  “It’s Murray,” Cody announced, surprised.

  “Who’s Murray?” asked Joe.

  “He’s my cousin. He’s the one that tapped us into the security system at Senator Karlson’s office and downloaded the videotape of her giving away military secrets.”

  “Stop! Just stop for a second. Guys, this situation is getting uglier by the minute. I don’t mind telling you I’m plenty scared already.”

  “Look, Joe, I’m sorry I dumped all this on you,” Cody offered. “I didn’t have anyone else to turn to that I could trust. We can leave. This isn’t fair to pull you and Therese into this mess.”

  “Cody, listen to me, and do exactly what I’m telling you, okay? First of all, do not answer that right now. I need both of you to turn your phones off and give them to me.”

  They gave him a questioning look but complied. Joe then took the phones and put them in the microwave oven. “Microwaves have a faraday cage which blocks any electromagnetic signal from getting out,” he said. He stopped a moment and snapped his fingers. “Wait here a second.”

  He ran into the garage and returned with what looked like a thick, heavy blue blanket. He pulled his car keys off a kitchen hook and set them, along with the phones and the blanket, on the table. “I have a better idea. This is a lead apron. Techs wear them when taking X-rays. Cody, wrap both of your phones inside. I want you to drive my car up to Gateway and then turn your phone on long enough to call Murray. Try to find out if they’re holding him and forcing him to call you. If it sounds safe, then tell him to meet us here at about eleven tonight. Tell him to leave his phone at home. Then make another call to Ethan’s phone. Don’t turn his on, but leave a message. Drive another ten miles or so and then turn his on and check his voicemail.”

  “Wow, okay, but why Gateway?” Cody asked, trying to figure the logic behind such strange directions.

  “We’re going to assume that sooner or later, someone will come looking for you. The easiest way for them to find you is by monitoring your phone usage. Phones transmit your location, even when powered down. We’re just going to lead them away and make them think you’re leaving town. Making the call between the two phones establishes that you’re both traveling out of the area, but you’re not together. Got it? Call at Gateway, turn them off, drive ten miles, turn on Ethan’s phone, and check voicemail. Head northwest another half hour and do it again. Keep the phones wrapped in the apron in between, then come back here when you’re done.”

  He looked to Ethan and said, “There’s a Value gas station on the main drag up near the outskirts of DC that sells pre-paid burner cell phones. I want you to buy six. . .no, seven of the cheapest burners and put twenty bucks on each. Pick the phones out of order from off the rack, making sure the serial numbers are not sequential. Pay cash. They don’t like to process paperwork there, so this transaction should be difficult to track. We’ll give you the cash now, and you can write us a check later. Neither of you can use a credit card or an ATM machine. We’ll figure out the rest after you get rolling.”

  Ethan stood looking at his friends, still unsure if he should be burdening them with such a terrible situation. Before he could ponder the point further, Joe said, “I know you would do the same for me. So get the hell out of here and get those phones, would ya?”

  Ethan cracked an appreciative smile and headed for the door.

  The guys left to complete their assignments, and the house returned to silence. Joe used the time to search for additional information on the internet while Theresa turned on the television for a little background noise. She was washing the cups when she heard Katherine Karlson’s name being mentioned by a news reporter. Her hands went limp in the dishwater, turning her attention to the report. She noticed Joe heard it too and now stared at the TV, frozen in mid-step.

  “An unidentified source said that Karlson’s daughter, Jordan West, worked tirelessly on her mother’s presidential campaign and pushed herself past the point of exhaustion.”

  The reporter stood outside the capitol building beneath a large, dark umbrella that shielded her from a steady stream of rain. She was surrounded by a swarming sea of other news teams doing the same. The sound of large droplets beating against the tightly stretched fabric played like an abstract rhythm in the background of every news report being taped. All of them echoed the same statements with slight alterations.

  “Another source, this one with close ties to campaign director Gene Lawton, sounded a more distressing alarm, saying Jordan West had indeed suffered a complete emotional breakdown. Details of West’s hospitalization were not immediately forthcoming from Karlson or anyone who spoke for the senator. Credible sources who wish not to be named said West was taken to a reclusive private hospital outside Bethesda. That facility, we’re told, functions mainly as a retreat for alcoholism and drug rehabilitation for the elite.”

  “Joey, doesn’t that sound like the Haven Hospital? Mark still does temp work there as a Physician Assistant. Remember some of the stories he told us about the wealthy drunks and prescription addicts that go there to dry out.”

  “That’s right, and Senator Toddick’s wife was there the last time. God, she sounded like a piece of work! Do you remember how he said she had to be drugged constantly just to keep her from screaming and running around naked? What a perfect place to keep this poor kid locked up and quiet.”

  Theresa grimaced at the thought of Jordan being sedated and tethered down to ensure her silence for the sake of Senator Karlson’s campaign. “I’ll call Mark and see what he knows about this,” she said, then keyed in her brother’s
number.

  Joe wasted no time in finding related issues on the internet. The web was already awash in long-winded blogs and fabricated yarns. One source purported that this was a conspiracy and kidnapping by North Korea, while another insisted Jordan’s disappearance was an alien abduction. There was so much bullshit being flung about that Joe half expected to see flies coming out of his computer’s USB port. The internet had given a voice to so many with nothing intelligent to say.

  Among the lines of garbage he sifted through on the net was a small snippet that set off his internal alarms. A government watchdog group posted a breach in security. Two persons of interest were being sought for questioning in connection with stolen government documents.

  “This can’t be good,” he said aloud, knowing Ethan and Cody were the most likely subjects of the search. He hoped the assignments he’d sent them on would buy some time. Soon enough, he thought, his friend’s likenesses would be part of these news reports. He also comprehended for the first time that he and his wife were now accessories to a crime by offering them shelter. Like it or not, he was already very much involved.

  So what was the correct response? Trick question, he thought. Helping his friends was clearly the right thing to do. The real issue was more legal than moral. Do you take the safe route and kick these guys out? Turn your back to avoid the backlash that had the potential of destroying everything he and Theresa worked so hard to build? Or do you commit to do right by your friends and go further down the rabbit hole? There would be no straddling the fence. No chance to deny your involvement regardless of how innocent it seemed. That was the catch, wasn’t it? If he stepped back now and let the situation play out, his friends would have no chance. They would be identified and apprehended, facing serious jail time on trumped-up charges from high treason to domestic terrorism. They might even be blamed for the leak of classified government documents.