All characters, locations and incidents are fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any situation is purely coincidental.

 

The entire contents is Copyrighted, 2008 by Charles A. Petterson

 

 

A Matter of Trust

Charles A. Petterson

 

March, last year.

 

Senator Roberts smiled and politely, but briefly, accommodated the reporters and photographers groveling for a bit of news or gossip from the celebrities in attendance at the reception following Life Achievement Awards at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.  In most circumstances he would have held court for as long as there was someone willing to fawn over him, but tonight his unrecorded agenda was headed with a meeting with an apparent nobody, Howard Davies, Deputy Undersecretary for Asian Affairs at the State Department.

The Senator, smiling all the while, slowly made his way through the socialites and political hangers-on to a customer-less portable bar set in a far corner of the room. The bartender poured a liberal gin and tonic for the Senator and he returned the favor with a $5.00 tip before turning in mock surprise to the arrival of Howard Davies.

“Howard, how great to see you,” he said as the two shook hands.

The Senator made a few steps away from the bar with Howard Davies following his lead.

Their conversation would be brief, and the Senator was silently annoyed that they had chosen a haute-couture event and Howard was definitely out of place in his off-the-rack formal wear and neighborhood barber shop hair cut; neat and trim, but certainly not styled.

Davies was a long-time political associate of the Senator.  Despite his outspoken differences with the current administration he maintained his appointment from the previous administration and his career-path status before the political appointment provided a small amount of insulation from political heat.

The bartenders ignored the Senator and bureaucrat’s conversation as they served another customer.  The exchange lasted three or four minutes before being interrupted by a D.C. patroness, eager to solicit the Senator’s presence at a charity dinner.  Howard Davies did not hesitate to yield to the lady. 

As Howard turned to leave the Senator caught his arm, ignoring the patroness’ effort for his attention,  “The timing on this is critical.  Get something in motion right away.”

The following week Howard Davies approached the Senator during a recess of the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee.  “I will need $700,000 for the operation.”

The Senator did not flinch.  “Where does it go?”

“There’s a routing number embedded in the transcript I furnished the committee.  On page two, paragraph three, there’s a name. Convert the letters to numbers.”

“How soon for some action?”

“Before the year’s out.  We’ll have to lay some smoke for a few months.”

 

November, last year

Jack Folger, Rear Admiral, USN(RET) left the checkout line of the Alexandria  Lowe’s and headed for the exit, pushing a shopping cart piled high with electrical fixtures.  As he approached the exit, a young lady in Lowe’s colors pushing an identical cart came up next to him.

“Admiral, please listen to me as we go to your car.  I’ve been told I can trust you.”

Jack stopped and made a quick evaluation of the situation; the woman had both hands on the cart indicating she wasn’t holding a weapon and a glance of the immediate surroundings didn’t detect any confederates, so he didn’t perceive any physical threat. “All right.  What’s your pitch?”

They started toward his car,  “The box in my cart contains 20 CD ROM discs.  They contain raw intelligence data.  I believe this data was compromised before being presented to the President.  The President needs to see this material without any outside influence.  I’ve been told you can do this for me.  It’s very important.  When we get to your car, just take the box from the cart and put it with your other material.”

Jack purposely stared at the young lady, analyzing her face for a prominent feature. He didn’t gain much information; light brown hair, blue eyes, no obvious ethnic clues.  Ordinary might be considered an insult, but the woman made no attempt to make herself glamorous.

They walked in silence until they were a parking space away from Jack’s car.  “Can I check this out first?  I would lose my pension if this has a bomb in it.” 

“You can check it out right here.”  As they reached his car, she flipped open the top of the box, revealing a stack of compact discs.

Jack gave a small flip of his hand even though he had a look on his face indicating he wasn’t thrilled with the pitch.  The young lady closed the box and lifted it out of the cart.  Jack took the box, placed it in his car with the remainder of the items.  As he emptied his cart, the young lady nested the carts and started to wheel them away. She had either adopted, or through experience, gained the vapid demeanor of a retail service person. “Thank you for shopping at Lowe’s.”

“Thanks for your assistance.” 

Jack Folger had been a college room mate with the man now occupying the oval office.  Such a tie would be considered an automatic path to four stars for any military man.  Despite his relatively young age and rapid ascension through the ranks, Jack “retired”.  His career came to a screeching halt with the allegation he had harassed a gay civilian at his last assignment.

Being washed up as far as the Navy was concerned didn’t obscure his reputation for being brilliant.  He gained a wealth of experience as a submarine officer and commander.  He learned tactics and leadership from one of the best cold war submarine drivers and went on to gain comprehensive strategic training and experience with the newly formed StratCom.

Jack read everything he could from every source he could find on world politics.  He had a broad and thorough knowledge about every significant military force in the world. Those who knew Jack from even the briefest encounter always came away impressed.  Ally or adversary, Jack was respected for his knowledge and ability to spot detail while maintaining a wide view.

Jack fully understood that in Washington, D.C., politics rule.  The games played in the Pentagon, Langley, and Chevy Chase often didn’t have the security of the country as a prime motivation.  The fiefdoms and power centers were jealously guarded and frequently used to consolidate political or career positions.  As a result of this knowledge, Jack wasn’t overly surprised when asked to be a courier for a concerned low-level intelligence analyst.

But, today Jack’s focus was getting his basement wired in advance of converting “the cellar” into a rec room. He spent the rest of the day working on his remodeling project.   That evening he went to the officer’s club at the Pentagon.  The club had a stage band and many older active duty and retired officers were there with their wives.  Jack finally recognized one of the Navy liaison officers who worked for the President.  They spotted each other simultaneously.

The young Commander offered his hand,  “Jack!  How’s it going?”

The officer’s wife approached for a small hug, “Jack!  Where are you hiding Helen?”

 “Andrea, Hank.  Helen is in Florida looking after her mother for a week or so.”

 “So, are you just out on a drunk?  Come to hear the band?” Hank asked.

Jack lifted his glass of water with a slice of lime on the rim. “The band is very good, that’s for sure.  You know I don’t go anywhere just to drink. No, I actually came here hoping to catch up with you.” 

Jack looked Hank squarely in the eye, “I need a non military invitation.  As soon as possible.  No intermediaries.  None.”  Jack looked at the officer, who was considering the statement.

“Not a problem.  Under those circumstances it will have to wait until at least Tuesday.”

“I understand.  That will have to do.  Thanks.”

Andrea knew not to ask, but bitching was not off limits, “Don’t you guys ever stop working?”

Jack laughed.  The band was near the end of its piece and Jack grabbed Andrea, swirled her around a few steps and at the finale, bent her backward in an exaggerated dip.

Andrea squealed and laughed, surprised by the suddenness of the move. “So much for being unobtrusive!  Now everyone will know you were here!”

“That’s okay.  I’m sure they will think the worst about both of us.”

“Not for me it isn’t!”

Hank caught up with them.  “I hate it when you do that!  Now she will be after me for weeks to get better acquainted with my dancing technique.”

Andrea slipped her arm around Hank’s, “Well it wouldn’t hurt you a bit.  You don’t have any excuse now, either.  The ship won’t be sailing for another year or two!”

A very much older man came up to the group.  “Jack, how are you these days?”

“Ed! Good to see you!  I don’t think I knew you were in the area. Let me introduce you to Hank Phillips and his wife Andrea.   Ed Gregory was my CO when I was Engineer on Finback.  Ed, Hank was a division officer for me while I was on the Nebraska.  He is very sharp.  Watch for him to be CNO in a few years.”

 “Happy to meet you., Ed said. “I have a board meeting in town this week.  I came out a few days early to see if any of the old timers were still around.”

 “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, come on out to the house.  Helen is out of town.  If you want to do some golfing, we can do that, too.”

“Thanks for the invite.  I already have an invite for dinner at Barney Furman’s.”

“Well, don’t hesitate to call any time you are in town.”

After a few more minutes of chatting the group broke up.  Jack milled around and slapped a few backs.  After being there an hour he quietly left.

 

December, last year.

Senator Roberts and Howard Davies attended a Christmas party at the Philippine Embassy.  Although the expression on the Senator’s face appeared pleasant, the tone of his voice wasn’t. “You said there would be action by the end of the year. There isn’t much year left.”

“It was scheduled for over Thanksgiving weekend.  Our boys got lucky and wiped out the nest that was supposed to carry out the plan.  You may have seen the briefing paper. A drone fired a missile at the building they were in.”

“Yeah, I saw something about that.”

“I’m going to need another six hundred.”

“Geezez!”  The Senator muttered something unintelligible.  “All right.  June is the absolute latest. Get on it.  The money will be there tomorrow.  Lucky for you I kept that transcript.”

 

January, this year.

Kenneth Roth, Captain, USN (Ret) agreed to a mission he didn’t particularly look forward to.  Kenneth had been a legendary submarine commander during his career.  He demonstrated unparalleled tactical skills.  His political skills needed work.  After getting the word he would never be considered for a star, he resigned the Navy and embarked on a second career as motivational speaker and pyramid scheme promoter.

Today, the good Captain was once again in service to his country.  He didn’t know exactly what it was about, all he knew was what he was told and what he was expected to do.

He contemplated the situation as he drove across the plains west of Minneapolis, heading for a microscopic burg in South Dakota.  At the Minneapolis airport he rented a car.  He drove to Wood Hill Country Club in Wayzata, left the rental car parked in the lot and then he transferred his gear to another car.

Driving west on US Highway 12, he thought about the odd set of circumstances he was caught up in. The argument was simple: there is a situation that required participants whose trust is unimpeachable.  Kenneth knew the code words.  There was some political firestorm waiting to start.  He had seen too much of the political side of things when he was commanding the Hawkbill.  His crew performed outstanding feats, even scored some intelligence coups, but they were never recognized properly for their accomplishments.  “Too much, too soon, Kenny!” He was told.  “There are other skippers who are pissed because you stole their chances.”  “If we make too big a deal about this, the other side will be suspicious.”

He knew that was politics.  But, when you are called upon to serve, you buck up and serve.

Kenny drove through Millbank, South Dakota.  He took a road to the south.  Outside of Stockholm he again headed south a mile and slowly looked for a drive into a farm yard.

The farm was no longer in production. The ground was obviously fallow. A neat, modular house and several out buildings belied the hundred year family heritage of the land.  The largest building was obviously a machinery building.  A sign, painted in neon-bright colors proclaimed, “1998 Missouri Valley Sprint Car Champion, Lester Jessup”  Several large, multicolored numerals indicating racing teams flanked the sign.  ‘Downforce Engineering’ graced the entrance to the office.

 

As Kenny turned into the drive a large black and tan dog napping in the mid-day sun blocked the driveway,.  Discerning little difference between the driveway and the lawn Kenny drove around the dog, which either ignored or unaware of the passing vehicle.

Not knowing whether to go to the house or the shop, Kenny tooted the horn twice.  In a few seconds the door to the shop opened and the figure in the door waved, but did not approach.

The dog continued its nap.

Kenny parked in front of the shop.  Despite his excellent health and condition, his age and several hours behind the wheel left him stiff.  He detested the slow onslaught of aging with the sore joints and occasional muscle cramps as he stretched for a few seconds, taking in the scene.  Taking a deep breath, in anticipation of an unfriendly welcome, he entered the shop.

“Ole!  How are you?” Kenny extended his hand with a big smile on his face.

“I’m doing fine, Captain.  It’s good to see you again.  I was surprised to get your call.  I’m glad you could stop by.”

Kenny looked at the machinery and stacks of boxes filling the shop.  “This is quite an operation you have here.  What the hell do you make, anyway?”

“I make wings for racing cars.  Mostly sprint cars, but I also do some CART and IRL work.  There is a lot of repeat business, the wings are usually the first thing to go in a wreck.  We just started doing carbon fiber pieces a year back. We do air dams and a few other pieces.”

Thirty years removed from Captain Roth’s command, the balding, slightly sagging, graying former radioman still referred to Kenny as Captain despite both men being long absent from service.

Kenny spoke, “Ole, can we go for a stroll?”

Dave grabbed a jacket from a coat hook and slipped into it,  “Sure.  I didn’t figure you came here for social reasons.” 

Dave zipped his jacket and retrieved a seed company stocking cap from a pocket while he escorted Kenny around the building toward the prairie. “C’mon.  I’ll show you the farm.  This was my folk’s place.  I bought it from them back in the 80’s.  It’s all in soil bank now.  We encourage pheasants.  Good hunting here in the fall.  If you ever get a hankerin’, you come on out.  Admiral Miller comes out every year, along with two of his sons.  Last year he brought along a thirteen year old grand daughter.  She was first to limit out every day.  Her dad said he was going to leave her home this year!”

 The bright clear day gave Kenny the unconscious expectation of warmth. It was only a few seconds before he realized it was colder. He thought of the dog asleep on the frozen ground as he buttoned up his old Navy overcoat, the only winter coat he had. “Your watch dog doesn’t do much.”

 “Outlaw?  He’s not a watch dog.  He’s a huntin’ dog.  Just turned 12.  Deaf as a stone.  You are lucky he’s sleeping, otherwise he would have licked you to death.  He’s never met a stranger.  He never fails to wake up for the UPS driver, though.  Must be the vibrations of the truck.  The driver always has a biscuit for him.  Half the time the dog gets into the truck and curls up while we are loading.”

Dave stopped walking and faced Kenny, “Well, what is it?  I can’t wait to hear what money-making scheme you have cooked up this time.”

Kenny smiled, “Sorry to disappoint you, Ole.  Nothing like that this time.  I do have some real estate deals working in Arizona, if you are interested.”

Dave just shook his head.

There was no need to mince words. No need for little games, politeness, or feelings.  This was a mission, and missions are simple and straightforward.  “They want you to go back to work, Dave.”

Dave nearly choked.  “Excuse me?  They?  Which they would you be talking about?  I hope you aren’t talking about the they who damn near screwed me out of my pension when I wouldn’t falsify reports so the intelligence would match their policies and pronouncements.  Is that the they? With all due respect, Captain, tell them to get fucked.”

The response was predictable.  The players involved in choosing Dave all knew he retired suddenly and with a great deal of anger.  Kenny had been briefed just enough to be able to present some arguments that might sway Dave to accede.

“Ole, this is today.  There is a new administration running things.  There has been a big change in the community as far as the management is concerned.”

Dave leaned into Kenny as he spaced each word, “Too    fucking    bad.”

Dave withdrew to his normal comfort zone, “Why the hell are you here, anyway? I’m not the only person who can read that shit.  What’s wrong with the people who are there?  Hell, isn’t that young gal, oh what’s her name?  Well, you wouldn’t  know.  I worked with this gal, Barbara, that’s it,  Barbara DeLoit.  Hell, she’s sharp.  Call her.”

Kenny waved off the protest, “I don’t know what the snag is.  All I can say is this.  It’s a matter of trust.  This is from the President.  He wants you.  He wants you because he can trust you.  That is it.”

 “Captain, you must be smoking something good.  The President doesn’t know me.  I don’t know the President.”

“That may be.  I don’t know that one way or the other.  But the pitch is this:  there is only one person that can be trusted to do this specific job.  The pitch is that you are the person.”

“What’s the tie?  I don’t get it.  How in hell would my name ever cross anybody’s lips?  Hell, you’re the most powerful person I know and you don’t have enough political pull to get an interview with the mayor of Milbank; no disrespect, sir.”

Kenny ignored the slur. This was negotiating time and there was no person better able to close a deal. “That’s not exactly right.  Jack Folger knows you.  He was college roommate with the President.”

Dave looked toward the horizon while he mumbled, “Folger?  Do you mean that jaygee who was, what?  Assistant Weapons Officer or something like that?  The guy who fell down the periscope well?  Is this the guy we are talking about?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, Okay,” Dave drew it out as he was thinking, “so how does this guy I knew as a radioman have me made as a spook?  He wouldn’t have any knowledge of that.”

Kenny took a step to be able to squarely face Dave “I’m telling you.  If you have to lay your life on the line with someone else, where would you look to find that someone?”

“I would have to call somebody from the boats.  I hate to say it, but the people I worked with in the agency just swung whichever way the political wind was blowing.”

Dave sidestepped Kenny, spotted a spent shotgun shell and stooped to retrieve it. He examined it for a few seconds as if trying to determine how many years it had be laying there. “OK, so I see it now, although I can’t believe Folger just picked my name out of the hat.  He barely recognized me at the reunion a couple of years ago and I have always had a feeling that he didn’t have any time for rag hats.” 

Dave continued to finger the shotgun shell for several seconds before putting it in a jacket pocket. “He is a political animal if there ever was one.” He turned to Kenny.  “Let me ask you this.  Why should I trust him?  Maybe he needs a patsy.

“In any event, who cares?  What are you going to offer me?  Plus, I have my business to run.  My busy season is just getting started.  I can’t walk away from this for even a week before my competition would be taking away all of my customers.”

Kenny stopped walking and looked back at the buildings. “The business is something I didn’t know about. Don’t you have help?”

 “I have a couple of local women who work three days a week on the fabricating.  The high school shop teacher helps out on Saturdays. Their kids come in on Saturdays and package everything.  Sunday night we process orders we receive over the weekend and the UPS guy is here first thing Monday morning to take it away.  Everything is pretty tight.  Sometimes I get orders that need to be fabricated and delivered overnight.

“But, that is beside the point.  What am I going to do, just show up at Langley some morning and start mucking around in files and nobody is going to notice?”

Kenny spotted a clump of colorful feathers, evidence of a pheasant that had been eaten by a coyote.  “I don’t know.” Kenny bent over and picked up several iridescent feathers and rotated them to see the colors shift.  “I don’t know what the issues are and I don’t know how it is that anyone thinks you will be able to help, under the circumstances.  I’m just here to make a pitch.  This is exactly the words Jack passed on to me, “Dave Olsen is the only person qualified to do this work whom the President can trust.”

 

Dave looked at the sky for several seconds, watching the contrail of a west-bound jet  before looking back to Kenny. “Captain, I can’t help you out.  All the games and lies and politics just make me sick.”

Dave paused, took in a purposeful breath and exhaled.  “Besides, what can you offer me?  I’m very happy here.  I have a quiet life, a nice business and I’m a world removed from the world you want me to re-join.  I just don’t see it.”

 “Your country needs you, Ole.  That’s all I can say.  Your President is calling.”

Dave did not hesitate, “You’re thirty years too late, Captain.  I would have followed you to hell thirty years ago, because I believed what we did then was for our country.  I know better now.  The risks we took.  The men who died on covert missions, never to be acknowledged for their sacrifice, the sacrifices that were made just to expedite some guy’s political career,  all of that was a just a game.  It never was about the country.  It was always about Johnson or Nixon or Carter.  When it wasn’t about them it was about some Senator or intelligence agency manager.  Buddies died.  Not for their country, but were served up to protect some politician, some bureaucrat. I’m not going to let you serve me up.”

Dave broke off a dried milkweed stalk to donate to a neighbor who sold dried arrangements and walked toward a small clump to gather more. “Captain, you know I have all the respect in the world for you.  But you also know you are not my friend.  I’m not your buddy.  I don’t regret for one minute the sacrifices I made with and for you,  but  I don’t owe you anything.  You don’t owe me anything. And as for Folger, I certainly don’t owe him anything.”

Dave collected a half dozen stalks and started walking toward the house.   “How about some homemade pie?  No sense driving all this way and not getting some pie out of the deal.”

They got to the house and walked in the back door. Dave called out, “Honey!  We have company!”

A board with pegs for coats  was next to the door. Kenny noticed the lack of  wall hangings and knick-knacks he anticipated finding in a country house.  In direct contrast to the collection of machinery and boxes filling the shop everything in the house was neat, to the point of near sterility. As they made their way into the kitchen a woman appeared at the opposite side.  Kenny quickly assessed the woman was blind.  “Honey, Captain Roth from the Hawkbill came to visit.  Captain, this is my wife, Brenda.”

 

Kenny crossed the room and took Brenda’s outstretched hand.  “It’s my pleasure.  Haven’t we met before?”

Brenda immediately said, “Very briefly at the Hawkbill reunion.  I spent quite a bit of time chatting with Melanie. She is such a lovely person.  How is she, and why isn’t she with you?”

“She’s quite well, thank you.  This trip was rather short notice and more business than pleasure.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  Send along our greetings, in any case.  Are you here to buy some wings?  Are you in race cars now?”

Kenny stood silent. 

 “No, dear.  It’s the other business,” Dave said.

Brenda found the dining table with her left hand and turned toward the wall with counter and cabinets.  “Oh.  I see.  How interesting.  Well, I suppose you came into the house for something to eat.  We have homemade pie, blueberry or apple.  Mrs. Nelson, across the road, makes them.  She uses home grown fruit, even.  The ice cream is just Blue Bunny.”

Dave indicated they sit down at the table.  As they were sitting Kenny said, “Blueberry sounds good.  Ice cream will be fine, too.”

Dave mentioned Kenny might want to freshen up, and as Brenda found pie and plates Kenny took the welcomed opportunity.  Brenda made no comment about Dave’s announcement while Kenny was absent.

Cutting into his pie Kenny got the conversation rolling again.  “I have to apologize for not remembering you Brenda.  I didn’t get any kind of briefing before I came out here. The message was just ‘Dave and his wife.’”

Holding a forkful of pie in mid air Dave replied, “That’s all right, Captain.  We weren’t married when I was on Hawkbill.  I met Brenda several years later when I was taking classes in Omaha.  We ended up working together and she fell for my legendary smooth  talk.  There was a big stink about married couples working together.  We told them they could keep their archaic policy or us.  They never made an issue of it after that.  As soon as Brenda’s pension was vested we quit.  The last three years were hell for both of us.”

 

Kenny changed the subject.  “How is it you are making racing car parts?”

Brenda answered, “My dad started the business back in the seventies.  He raced sprint cars and when the outlaws started putting wings on cars he started making them.  His airfoil supposedly worked better than most others and he just kind of built up the business.  He offered the business to us when we left the government.  I’m from Ohio, originally, and there was a bit of irritation when we moved the operation here.  It was my choice.  I prefer the solitude here.”

Kenney decided to keep the conversation off business for a few minutes. “It never ceases to amaze me how diversified sailors are after they leave the service.  How about Billings, the nuke?  Tied up with that computer outfit and is worth over a hundred million, according to the Wall Street Journal.  I don’t know if you heard the story about Jenkins. He made an absolute killing in California real estate and then died from cancer when he was 47.  His wife called Melanie right after it happened.  They never had any children and he left a substantial part of his estate to the Dolphin Scholarship Fund.  Melanie is on the board of the Submarine Wives Club.”

Dave nodded as he finished chewing, “A lot of the officers did well, too. What did that ward room yield, five flags? At the reunion I heard that all of the J.O. that stayed in became four stripers. Not a bad bunch.  Say, Captain,  I heard you hooked up with BeBop Harrison and fleeced several of your country club buddies in Florida.  Is that true?”

Kenny was caught off guard and momentarily choked as he tried to swallow and laugh at the same time, “It’s true.  Harrison is a scratch golfer.  It’s so bizarre.  That kid just never seemed to be able to do anything right.  He was a hazard as a planesman; could broach in a dead calm sea.  He was even a rotten mess cook.  But you should see him with a golf club.  I never knew it until the reunion.  He had been featured in a couple of magazine articles about amateur golfers, but I never connected “Clarence” Harrison to Be Bop.

“At the reunion he just kind of off handedly asked me if I belonged to a club and if I did any golfing.  I told him where I golfed and he said he would be sure to look me up if he was ever there for a tournament or just passing through.  That sparked further discussion.  He isn’t above plucking a few pigeons, so I set up a few rounds.

“It was perfect.  I’m sometimes ashamed of how much of a gap exists between enlisted and officers.  That’s the way life is, sometimes.  But, since I was on the outs nearly as much as the enlisted men I don’t have much love for my golden brethren.  So, we exploited things a little.”

Kenny took a forkful of pie and ice cream.  “This is really good pie.  I can’t believe how flaky the crust is.”

Brenda nodded, “I will pass the compliment to Mrs. Nelson.”

 “I introduced Harrison as a former enlisted crewmember who was visiting.  I made a point of referring to him as BeBop.  He played it up to the hilt.  Dressed like a cheap used car salesman.  After fifteen holes the other pair thought they had us and suggested a hefty wager

“Well, you never saw such an act as Harrison put on.  He kind of hemmed and hawed as if he would be stretched to cover the bet.  He called me aside and made like we were having a discussion. As we broke up he said just loud enough for the others to catch part of ‘as long as you cover the shortfall, I guess it will be all right.’

“I accepted the wager and I shot two bogeys and a par, one of the others shot par, his partner shot par on the par three 16th and then double bogeyed 17 and eighteen.  Harrison shot birdies on 16 and 18 and eagled the short par 5 17th hole.  At the clubhouse there was no sour grapes or any suspicion of collusion, they just paid their bets and claimed that Harrison made a couple of lucky shots.

“Harrison is still single, so we set him up with a date with a real estate gal we know and the four of us had a lengthy dinner at the club.  It was fairly late when Jerry Minor, a retired Air Force general came to the table and said he heard we got lucky today and wondered if we wanted to play the next day.  Harrison again played it up real big about not being in the same league with my friends and how he just had a few breaks today, he was shooting over his head and on and on.”

 

Kenny gave his fork a small shake for emphasis, “The next day went pretty much the same, except they were a little bit better players.  By the time we got to 16 we had a little gallery even.  At 17 the club pro came out to see what the excitement was.  He immediately recognized Harrison and before anyone could tee off he called Jerry Minor to one side and casually asked him what was happening.  The general boasted they had a couple of pigeons and were just having a friendly game.  The pro asked him point blank who challenged who and Jerry got real aggravated and said he had worked like crazy to set us up and he didn’t want the pro to interfere.

“ ‘Oh, I would never interfere with your game, sir.  I just want to make sure outside people aren’t hustling our members.’ the pro told Jerry. ‘Good luck to all of you’ he said as he waved at us and went to stand with the others.

“Harrison birdied out and I was one over.  The general must have been rattled by the pro because he double bogeyed the par three, bogeyed the par five and then shot par on the 18th.  His partner was one over also.

“We did the dinner thing again that night.  Frank Bjornson, who was our squad dog, lives there, too.  He stopped by that evening. He had his wife with him and we asked them to join us.  I was just starting to make introductions, when he stopped me. ‘Wait.  I know this man.’ He thought for several seconds.  ‘Big Bopper?  No that’s not right.  Be Bop!!  That’s it!  You are the worst planesman I ever saw!’

“Everyone roared.  Harrison’s date didn’t have a clue about any of it.  Then he said in a quieter voice, ‘I heard Kenny was shooting pigeons over here with some sailor.  Jesus Christ, I never would have guessed it was you!’

“Harrison went over there and he and Bjornson cleaned out four Army Generals.  Harrison went back to North Carolina with an extra 50 grand and the phone number for the real estate gal.”

Dave shook his head while smiling, “Captain, you haven’t changed a bit.  Always working an angle.”

Kenny worked on his pie for a moment.  “Well, I don’t have an angle this trip.  I hope you believe that.”

 “Yes, Captain.  I don’t doubt your sincerity or even the gravity of the situation.  I just can’t see any way that this would enhance my well being.  In fact, all I can see is placing myself in harm’s way.”

The threesome finished their pie while chatting about living on the plains and Kenny left.

A week went by.  Dave got a call from Henry Kelly, founder of a chain of auto parts stores and sponsor of race cars on several circuits.  “Dave, I would like you and your wife to be my guests for the Daytona race.  Now, I won’t take no for an answer here.  My plane can pick you up next Wednesday.  We have a penthouse apartment for you to stay in that is completely staffed.  You and your wife will have hot pit passes and can use the sky box.  Dora told me that you are to tell Brenda she is looking forward to being with her again.”

Dave answered, “Normally I can’t afford to take that week off because too many panels get busted up and I have all of those rush orders.  But I’ll work up some stock to have on hand.  Anything that can’t get done will just be too bad.  Thanks for the offer, we’ll be happy to join you there.”

“Super!!  We will see you next week.  My pilot will be calling you.  I can’t remember if he wants to fly you out of  Sioux Falls or some place closer to you.”

Dave laughed, “I won’t mind driving a few miles for a package like this.  Thanks a lot, Henry.  It’s very generous of you.”

The following Wednesday Dave and Brenda drove to the Watertown airport and met up with the corporate plane.  Dave and Brenda shared the plane with a regional manager and his wife.  The manager was surprised to learn Dave was not a Kelly employee. “We have been going to Daytona for these gatherings for years and I don’t ever recall someone outside the company being invited.  Henry must have something he wants from you.”

Brenda wasn’t as cynical. “It is usually the other way around.  Henry has been supportive of our shop, beyond all of the busted up parts we replace for his teams.  As far as the invite goes, I wasn’t aware of these gatherings at all. The invitation didn’t strike me as being all that unusual. We were guests of Talon Chassis last year at Knoxville.”

They arrived in Florida just after 6 P.M.  A limousine took the foursome to a beach side condominium complex.  In the apartment Dave found a note on the table announcing dinner at eight at a nearby yacht club.  Dave and Brenda unpacked their clothes. Brenda spent some time learning the layout of the suite and then they showered and dressed for the evening.

The regional manager they traveled with was not at the dinner.  The dinner company was entirely for drivers, crews and their families.  The annual event also served as a pseudo family reunion.  All of the families looked forward to the visit.  They had been there for two days already and had been to Orlando and all of the attractions. 

After dessert was served, Henry stood for a brief announcement.  He acknowledged Dave and Brenda, mentioning that his association with them went back to when Brenda was just a tom-boy in pig tails and flannel shirts.  That brought a few comments from the men, as she had grown into a beautiful, voluptuous woman.

“The first time I visited her dad’s shop, she was standing at a work table, riveting wing panels with a power riveter.  I didn’t realize she couldn’t see what she was doing.  I found out of, course.  Several years later she went off to school and then on to some kind of career.  This is no exaggeration. When she went off to school, whoever it was that started doing the riveting was nowhere near as good as the job Brenda did.  Oh, the job was all right, but there were scrapes and miscues here and there, which Brenda never left in her panels.

“For the past several years Brenda and her husband, Dave, have been fabricating the panels, taking over the business from Brenda’s dad.  I’m proud to have them here this week and I know you folks who haven’t met Dave before will take the opportunity to get to know him.  He is without a doubt the best supplier we have.”

There was a little applause and Dave and Brenda stood to acknowledge the tribute.

“For the rest of you, I can’t say enough how much I appreciate the constant level of excellence you provide for our various racing teams.  The best driver in the world needs a reliable machine underneath him or her.   I have to remember to say ‘or her’ anymore.”

A cheer from one table interrupted the speech, which was followed by laughter from the rest of the crowd.

When the laughter and hooting subsided Henry continued, “It is difficult to resolve the question. ‘How much benefit does the company get from the race car expenditures?’  I don’t know the answer to that question in absolute terms.  What I can tell you is that in the two regions where we do not have any live appearances our per capita sales are measurably less than the other regions.  That being the case, I can justify the continued support of these teams.”

 

A hearty round of applause interrupted the speech.

The formalities continued with honoring a few employees for longevity and presentation of various awards earned during the previous racing season and scholarships to children of employees

 “I wanted to get the important business done with and recognition of these fine youngsters before I made the last announcement.  As you know, the President of the United States is a big fan of open wheel racing. He drove a midget for two seasons in his native Oklahoma.  The first lady was Miss STP in the early 70’s. Dora and I have been friends with the President and First Lady for thirty years.  They both know their way around a track. They will be at the races this weekend.  I have been assured that everyone of you will get a chance to meet him in one venue or another.”

The crowd  half cheered and murmured at the announcement.  Most of adults had met President Jordan when he was the Governor of Oklahoma.  It would be a big thrill for the children and everyone would have a picture standing next to the President.

“The President will be busy with a political rally Friday night.  Saturday, while we have a break in practice we will have lunch with the President at a restaurant that will be named later on.  There will be two busses.  One at the track and one at the apartment building.  The busses will leave at exactly 12:30.  If you miss the bus, too bad.   Drivers and workers, don’t worry about needing a shower.  Just degrease as best you can and change into clean team trousers and shirts.  Lunch will last exactly one hour, as the President has other commitments.  Sunday the President will attend the church service at the track, and then I expect he will make a tour of the pits before the race.  He will view the race from our suite.  Kids, try not to be overly precocious!!  We have a true race fan here.

“That’s all I have.  Thanks again to all of you for all of your hard work this past year.  We have excellent prospects this year in each circuit.  I’m proud to have my name associated with all of you!”

**************************************************************************

Dave and Brenda spent the following days and evenings schmoozing various racing teams. 

 

On Friday secret service agents surrounded the apartment building and started sweeping the track facilities.  They secured the grandstand suites in the Kelly section.  Brenda had a brief confrontation with an over zealous agent who was unfamiliar with her cane.  A supervisor came over to observe.  The supervisor checked a list and immediately relieved the agent of the responsibility and passed Brenda through with apologies for the delay.

Saturday Dave and Brenda passed on the Presidential luncheon. They also passed on the afternoon races and testing sessions in favor of some time on the beach.  Four ‘Kelly’ wives who had small children joined them late in the afternoon.  The children took delight in burying Dave in the sand and after that he helped them build an enormous, but crude, sand castle.  The wives chatted and relaxed knowing they didn’t have to keep an every-second vigil on the children. 

As the afternoon started to wane it started getting chilly. The children decided the sand castle was finished and it was time to abandon the beach.  The adults agreed and the group left the beach en-masse.

Dave and Brenda had an early dinner at a restaurant near the apartment and then returned to their suite.  At nine-thirty there was a knock at the door.  Dave opened the door to find Jack Folger and the President of the United States of America standing in the hall.  Without explanation or introduction Jack Folger offered his hand. “Are you decent?”

Dave returned the hand with an exasperated look, “Yes, we’re decent.  Come on in.  Brenda, we have company!” he called into the room.

As they entered the living room Jack said, “Good to see you again, Dave.  Let me introduce you folks.  Mr. President, this is Brenda and Dave Olsen.  Dave, Brenda, Larry Jordan.”

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure, Mr. President.”  Brenda said while offering her hand toward the voice.

It took a pregnant moment for the President to realize Brenda was blind.  Once he realized it he made the step toward Brenda and shook her hand.  “The pleasure is all mine.”

Dave offered his hand, “Honored to meet you, sir.”  

 

The President returned with a firm clasp, “I’m glad to meet you.”

Brenda made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Won’t you come in and sit down?  May I offer you some refreshments?” 

The group maneuvered to the seating area and the visitors and Brenda settled in as Dave stood waiting for drink orders.  The President spoke, “Just a beer for me, thanks.  Miller Lite if you have it, but anything will be OK.”

Jack Folger agreed, “Beer will be fine.”

Dave smiled, “I’m afraid the fridge is just stocked with Coor’s.  They are a major sponsor for Kelly.  The entire building is stocked with Coor’s.”

“Coor’s will be fine,” said the President.

Dave returned with three beers and a glass of wine for Brenda.

Dave sat next to Brenda. “Well, Jack, no disrespect, but I’m assuming this isn’t a social visit.”

“Kenny said he didn’t get anywhere.  You are right.  Pardon us for interrupting your vacation, but this is very important.”

Brenda turned toward the President. “Mr. President, did Jack tell you we already have said no?”

The President finished taking a sip of beer. “I don’t blame you for saying no to Captain Roth.  The intelligence community can be snake pit and one never knows how much of the truth one is looking at.  That is why I asked Jack to arrange for a personal meeting.

“The situation is so sensitive that the four of us and the two duty secret service agents are the only people in the world who know where I’m right now.  Even my staff thinks I’m in my suite.  Jack is the only person who knows I wanted to talk to you.

“I’m in a terrible bind.  It has been brought to my attention that certain intelligence briefings may have been compromised by misinformation.  I have made policy decisions based on this information.  Now I’m skeptical of everything being presented to me.  I can’t run the presidency based on bad information that I trust nor on the basis of not trusting anyone.  I have to get this sorted out. I have to get it sorted out fast and I have to get the story from someone I can trust.

 

The President leaned forward in the sofa, placing his forearms on his knees. “I trust Jack.  Jack says he trusts you, Dave.  Based on Brenda’s career record I’m assuming I can trust her, too.  I have to trust Brenda.  You two are a team.”

Dave interrupted with a lengthy argument about internal politics. He ended with,  “If this is politics there is nothing I, or anyone else except you can do for you.  You can’t fire all of the perpetrators.”

“Dave, can I call you Dave?  Dave, I may be hanging out a mile here.  If the information that was delivered to Jack is accurate I may have big trouble.  The other side of the coin would be somebody is trying to sabotage my confidence in the intelligence agencies.”

Brenda joined the discussion, “Mr. President, I don’t know what you are looking at.  Determining truth is one thing, determining if the message has been intentionally warped is quite another case, especially if the spoken word is the basis for the information.  Translation of the spoken word is not the most reliable source and a dispute can easily be attributed to a difference of interpretation.  The source, if it is radio, may be erratic.  The translator may miss a key word. If there are hidden idioms or code words the message may be completely misconstrued.  So there can be reports that are erroneous that are the basis for analysis that is incorrect.”

The President waved Brenda off, forgetting she could not see the gesture that was a segue for Dave and Jack.  “I just receive synopsis, at best.  The folks working for me get the actual long form material.  I received information three months ago indicating a certain group was not posing much of a threat.  I received conflicting information through a back channel.  Jack assembled a quick team to reconcile the conflict and came to the conclusion someone purposely manipulated the base information to match the desired conclusion.  The motive isn’t clear at the moment.  I can’t conduct business with misleading information.”

Dave settled back and casually took a sip of beer. “If you have the admiral on it already, I don’t see why you would need us.”

“Jack and his people are too visible.  Plus their movements and communications are too easily tracked.  This is how concerned I’m about the situation.  As I said, there is nobody outside this room who knows I’m here.”

 

Jack held out his hand in a stop signal. “Dave, what the President says is true, but the fact is we looked at the material and we don’t have the skills in house for this.”

Dave ignored the patronizing argument. “Captain Roth knows something is up and knows you are looking for me.” 

 “Kenny is so far removed from the scene that his name and the Presidents would never be imagined together.”

Brenda wasn’t as hostile toward the situation and wanted more facts. “What is the chain of custody on the back channel material?”

 “The material was handed to me in a Lowes’ parking lot one Saturday by a young lady in a Lowe’s Uniform,” Jack said.  “She was about five foot eight and mousy hair and looked like a typical Lowe’s employee.  No standout features or marks or moles.  I tried to observe as best I could and made no effort to hide the fact that I was noting her features.

“I contacted Hank Phillips that night at the O club and asked for an unofficial meeting with the President and did not mention the subject.  Hank knows how things work and doesn’t stick his nose anywhere it isn’t invited.

“The following week the President met with me privately and off the schedule.  You came to mind because I remember you from Hawkbill and I just happened to see you at UNO one day while I was at StratCom.  I knew we were sending people there for the Afghan Studies courses.  I ran down your name and just kind of kept it filed away.”

Dave repositioned his grip on his glass so the middle finger was pointing at Jack “Nice of you to invite us for dinner, old shipmate.”

Brenda ignored Dave’s dig. “Considering that we have been away for several years and that we were at odds with the management when we left, just how inconspicuous do you think our return would be?”

 

“Good point. If all of the firewalls, checks and balances, audits and whatever else is supposedly in place actually functions the way it is supposed to, you won’t be inconspicuous.  The President has access to the areas of interest.  You sign in as Presidential staff . 

Dave gave a dismissive, irritated wave.  “This is all very nice.  There are several things you just don’t seem to be hearing.  First, I have a business to run.  My business is as much reputation as it is science. I have to be at the shop seven days a week or else my customers go elsewhere. If my customers go somewhere else and discover they are getting the same results, they won’t come back to me.  My pension certainly won’t keep us going.  Next, I really have no interest in being a pawn in these games anymore.  And, I really have no idea of what game you folks might be in the middle of right now.”

Jack leaned toward Dave. “How about if we fix you up with a facility at the farm? You won’t have to leave the business.  We will run a fiber optic right into the house.”

Dave made a skeptical face, “That’s fine for the stuff that is archived, but if you have the problem you think you have we would need hard copy material; original tapes.  If that material leads in the wrong direction we would need first hand observation.  Once we get into the first hand observation genre it will be hard to keep this situation, whatever it is, amongst the four of us.  Your best bet would be to find an interpreter who is currently working and an analyst that doesn’t mind his or her work being reviewed by the interpreter.”

The room was silent for a minute.  The President gave a little motion with his hand that Jack caught.  Jack said, “We can’t do that.  The material is supposedly sourced from Sheik Rakin.  We are pretty sure he is dead.  Brenda probably knows more about the Sheik than anyone else.  We need someone who can say with the highest degree of certainty that the material we have is authentic.  If the material is bogus we need someone who can say with the highest degree of certainty exactly why the material is not authentic.  The only person on staff right now that can do that is Gregory Manson.  We have reason to believe some of his work was involved in the affair in Yemen during the last administration.”

 

The President interrupted, “I’m not going to have anything like that going on during my watch!  I’m not going to lie to the American people and I’m not going to duck my responsibilities for political expediencies.  I do have to have the truth.”

Brenda said, “All right, that’s a very strong stance.  If you do have the problem I think you do it will be coming from the management.  You will have to gut the entire community.  They have skeletons from everybody’s closet.”

Jack countered in a tone that was obviously frustrated and patronizing, “The President has a handle on the potential fallout.  That is not for you to concern yourself with.”

The phone rang.  Dave went to it,  “This is Dave. ..Hi, Scott.  …No, we are just talking with a few friends.  …No, not at all!  What’s up. …Oh, really.  No I hadn’t heard that, but I wasn’t at the track today.  …He does?  …You are right about that.  He can’t use those parts without a pass from the Brits.  Look, here is what you do. Ship the pieces to me at the track in care of Kelley.  They have a drop point.  I will contact Sam tomorrow and when he gets a written approval I will hand the parts over to him and we will be in the clear.  Anything else?  …OK, Scott.  Thanks for staying on top of things for us.  …What’s that?  No, I think you will just get a T shirt out of the deal.  …OK.  Good night.”

Dave went to Brenda and related the details.  She nodded.  They returned their attention to their visitors.  “On race weekends we are on 24 hour call.  Sam Watson busted up a car today and wants to use a different front end piece.  We have it but we can’t sell it to him without authorization from the Kennsington people.”

Brenda held out her hand for Dave to take. “Please excuse us for a few minutes.  Please help yourself to refreshments.”  Dave and Brenda proceeded to the balcony, leaving Jack and the President standing in the middle of the living room.

As Dave led Brenda to the far end of the balcony he said, “I don’t see any reason in the world to get involved with this.  If there is something this wrong going on there could be serious consequences for us.  I certainly don’t want anything to happen to you.  Why would we want to get involved, in any case?”

 

Brenda said, “Revenge.  If there is something squirrelly going on you can bet that Frazier is behind it and Jackson is also up to his nose in it.  Think about the situation for the moment.  The President of the United States is in our living room.  This isn’t the old song and dance of  “the highest levels of the White House”, this is the man, groveling!  I would love to see that weasel Frazier get fried.  Let’s hold ’em up for a bundle and give the man what he wants. Let’s do it for all the people who have been screwed in the past.”

Dave shook his head, “I don’t know, honey.  Things start perking at this level and people start disappearing.  I admit that this President is probably a lot straighter than the last one, but I just hate the thought that when everything is all said and done we will just have been pawns in the game; expendable  and will neither profit nor pay for the results.”

Brenda said, “Here’s a chance to make them pay.  I say we use the chance.”

Dave stood silent.  After nearly a minute Brenda gave his hand a couple of encouraging squeezes. Dave’s stomach was queasy as he conceded, “All right, honey.  You do the negotiating.  I think it’s you more than me who may be the key to this anyway.”

They went back into the living area.  The President and Jack had taken seats in easy chairs, but rose as Brenda entered the room.  Brenda sat and faced where she assumed the President and Jack were sitting. “This is a situation that stinks.  To be blunt, it really isn’t in our interest to have anything to do with this.  You obviously think you have no other option, and in light of that we will take on this little project under the following terms.  We each get $100,000 per month plus all expenses, minimum six months pay.  We are issued whatever documentation is needed to gain us access anywhere we want to go. Anywhere.  State, FBI, CIA, NSA, Pentagon.  If we decide on Tuesday we need to be in Maryland on Wednesday the passes we need will be waiting for us when we step off the plane. Our travel will be by charter. You will provide a house for us in the D.C. area and arrange for my house keeper and expenses.  There will be no cover story.  If anyone asks us we will just mumble.  If anyone asks you, shrug your shoulders.  Since Jack is the pivot man in this arrangement I’m not sure how that will work out for immediate needs, but you can work that out.”

The President looked at Jack. Jack spread his hands in resignation.

 

Dave’s jaw dropped for a moment. “Well, what the fuck did you expect?  You pay me E-9 and proficiency pay, pay Brenda GS-13 for a month and travel on government per-diem?  Is that what you had in mind?”

Jack made a pleading motion with his hands. “I hadn’t thought about the compensation one way or the other.”

The President stood. “Jack will take care of it. I appreciate your coming to my aid on this.”

The President headed for the door and Jack followed.  Dave led Brenda toward the door.  At the door the President turned, “You know I was just a dirt track racer in Oklahoma.  I never made it to the big leagues in auto racing.  But, I really am just that same person.  I’m going to be President for a few years; eight if I can get this cleaned up along with a few pesky domestic issues.  It would be my privilege to get to know you a little better when all of this is behind us.  I know Arlene and Brenda would hit it off.”

Brenda offered her hand, “I’m sure we would enjoy that.”

The President took it with a gentle squeeze. 

Jack hesitated for a second. “I will be in touch.”

 Dave was still irritated about the overall notion and felt no need for pleasantries. “The clock starts Monday.  Have the money sent to our bank account in Millbank, Farmers and Merchants Bank.”

Jack started to protest, but Dave cut him off. “Monday, Admiral.”

Jack just shook his head. “I think getting seed potatoes for Admiral Rickover may have been easier.”

The following afternoon in the track suite Dave and Brenda were introduced to the President and the first lady and everyone acted as if it were the first time they had met.  During the break between races one and two the President and first lady held an informal receiving line at the buffet table and everyone had their picture taken.  Most of the teen aged children left after the photos were taken to go and visit with their friends at other race teams and suites. 

With the photo session over the President shed his suit jacket and settled in with Henry Kelly and Lenny Morris, old time race car driver and owner of the team the President drove for. The youngest children formed up in one part of the suite to play with each other.  The adults were left with a half empty seating area and took advantage of the situation.  The First Lady sought out Brenda, curious to get to know more about the Olson’s connection to the Kellies.  The President and the first lady seemed to be just two of the family now and the only hint to the contrary was the pair of secret service agents at the door.  Dave engaged in a conversation with a college-aged young lady who was studying engineering and interested in Dave’s business.

As soon as the race was over Dave, Brenda and the couple they arrived with met at a limousine and were whisked away to the airport.  The King Air seemed lost in the queue of corporate jets, including two with Kelly logos on the tail.  Soon they were on their way home.

*************************************************************************************

The mild weather of Florida quickly was erased from the memory of Dave and Brenda Monday [cap1] morning as they drove in sub-zero temperatures to Millbank.  The bright day and snow-less, brown countryside was not unusual. Dave described the scene to Brenda as they drove, as was his habit and her expectation. They first stopped at the bank to advise the folks there that wire transfers were on the way and how to disperse them when they arrived.  While Brenda was in the bank, Dave drove over to the Sheriff’s office and had a short meeting with his cousin, the Sheriff. 

 Dave collected Brenda at the bank and then they proceeded to do their shopping and returned home.  “Arlen Nelson was at the Bank”, Brenda said. “He reminded me that his building is available if you need more space.  I thanked him for the offer.”

Dave made an unseen face.  “Yeah, I know.  If we start doing more carbon fiber work we will need more space.  I hate the thought of having to commute.”

“Commute?  Dear, it is only four miles.  There is no traffic.  You spent an hour each way when we lived in Maryland.”

“I know.  I really appreciate not having to leave you alone, that’s all.”

Brenda wasn’t buying that excuse. “Except for lunch, you spend all day in the shop.  I don’t see how being in town would leave me more alone.”

“If we move to town you won’t have the girls stopping in on the days they work.  That will knock down your gossip opportunities.”

 

Brenda touched Dave’s shoulder, her signal for him to look at her, then stuck her tongue out at him.

Dave laughed at the gesture, then said, “When the time comes I will consider it.  It would be less hassle and probably cheaper than adding on to the existing building.”

As Dave turned off the main road and headed for Stockholm he saw a utility crew stringing a fiber-optic cable.  Dave relayed the observation to Brenda, who nodded and said, “I didn’t think they would waste any time.”

Late in the afternoon a van pulled up in the yard and a young man knocked on the back door of the house.  Dave answered the door.  “We have your FO coming in.  The pole guys are at the corner,  Where do you want your entry and where do you want the termination?”  The young man asked.

Dave took him to the side of the house where the electrical and phone service entered the house.  “Bring it in here and just leave me a junction box and a hundred feet of cable.  I haven’t figured out where I want my terminal to be yet.”

“OK.  You can be online this evening.  We will be out tomorrow with the trencher and start burying the service.  I will let you know if there are any interruptions.”

“Are you burying the pole mounted cable?”

“That’s the plan.”

Dave had another plan. “Let’s do it this way.  Leave the pole mounted line in place back to your trunk.  Give me a new underground line and bring it in around here.  Same thing.  Terminate inside and leave me some cable to work with.”

“Works for me.  You know, it never ceases to amaze me the security precautions people take anymore.  I suppose that even with a small business like yours you have to make sure your stuff isn’t being stolen.  You know, we did the installation a few months back for that guy over in Pipestone who they caught dispatching drugs.  The story I heard was he went to all the trouble to get a secure line and then ran his mouth in a bar one night.  Some biker crew turned out to be DEA agents.  You know, those criminals can be so stupid.  His corn bins were full of bales of marijuana.”

 

Dave laughed, “Well, there isn’t anything like that going around here.  My wife is blind and we need high capacity computer connections to support the work she does.”

“That is what I hear.  You know, there is a fellow in Sisseton who does something like that.  He is a quadriplegic.  It’s amazing what you can do with a computer these days and a phone line.  A person can work anywhere.  Well, we are glad we can help out.  You will be running tonight and completely underground by Thursday.  We have three trenchers working on it.”

“Thanks.  Let me know when you switch over.”

Kenny Roth showed up late the following afternoon [cap2]  driving a Penske box van. The greetings were minimal.  “This deal with Jack is starting to be a pain in the ass.  No, that is glossing over the situation: it is a pain in the ass. Driving this truck is a bit much for a senior citizen.”

Dave laughed, “It’s for your country, Captain.  It’s your President asking, not me.”  Dave opened up the back of the truck.

“Did he tackle you at Daytona?  I saw you on television.  They were interviewing Guy Lefevre and you were in the background.  I didn’t see you with the prez, though.”

“We spent all Sunday afternoon with them.  Brenda and the First Lady are swapping recipes.”  Dave started unloading non-descript boxes into the shop area.

When Dave finished unloading the truck  Kenny reached in his pocket and handed Dave a cellular phone.  “It only dials one number.  Turn it on, hit star.  The other end is Jack.  Hit any other button and the phone goes dead for 24 hours.”

Dave pocketed the phone without interest. “It’s pretty late.  Are you heading back tonight or do you want to stay over?”

“I’m getting way to old to chase around he country like this.  I could check into a motel if staying with you is a hardship.”

“Not at all.  We have a spare room and it’s always ready for a drop-in-friend or relative.”

 

The following morning[cap3]  Kenny was getting into the truck to leave and Dave said, “Captain, if you can spend a few months in Hawaii or Scotland or South Africa you might be a lot happier than you would be staying at home.”

Kenny thought for a moment.  “That bad? I’ve never been one to run from a fight.  But, this isn’t a fight I’ve got a dog in.  The wife has always wanted to visit Australia.  She has a sister there. Good idea, and thanks for the tip.  Good luck, Ole.”

Dave spent the morning running fiber optic cable through the house. The afternoon was spent assembling work tables and shelves. After dinner Dave unloaded boxes of computers, signal analyzers and tape recorders and installed them in the work room. Dave opened several boxes that contained plastic containers of one-inch magnetic tape.  The containers were sealed with a security tape.  By midnight Dave had all of the equipment and material set up to suit Brenda’s desires. 

Brenda started listening to tapes the following morning.  Mentally she was out of shape for the task.  She knew it and spent considerable time going over seemingly unrelated material to get back into the flow of Arabic languages.

Dave reviewed some of the tapes on the signal analyzer to detect splices and other artifacts.  The equipment was a generation or two newer than what he had worked with and he had to learn the new features and operation.

When the buried cable was in service Dave checked out the connection. The only signal was the carrier. He had an exclusive-use strand of fiber.  He got out the provided manuals and determined he had a exclusive line back to the President’s complex.  He certainly couldn’t hope for anything better than that.  He thought for a long time and finally came up with a monitor to see if there was any querying traffic on his circuit.

On Sunday[cap4]  evening Dave received an e-mail message from an unfamiliar address.  Dave howled in laughter.  Brenda appeared at his door. “What on earth is so funny?”

“It’s from Kenny letting me know he is in Australia. When we first went to Fort Lauderdale there was this souvenir shop with nasty souvenirs.  The most popular was a miniature crate with two tiny oranges and it said ‘Fuck You From Florida.’  Kenny sent a picture showing a Kangaroo holding a sign, ‘Fuck You From Sydney.’”

“Honestly, Honey.  Don’t you guys ever grow up?”

Dave rose from the computer, took a few steps to the door, took Brenda in his arms and flubbered in her neck. “Never.”

**************************************************************************

Brenda and Dave spent the following week going over all of the tape material they had.  They had yet to evaluate any of the material on the CD ROMs. Brenda purposely avoided the material, saying she did not want to be influenced by that material before she was fully up to speed on all of the language and context points.

Dave stopped working at the shop except for making management decisions.  The people who worked for him had known Dave all of his life or all of theirs.  Their parents and grand parents had come to the same town on the same train from the same ship in 1897.  They weren’t necessarily related, but their sense of community was very strong and they all may as well have been siblings.  They had a vague notion of what Dave and Brenda did when Dave was “in the service.”

The curiosity of the workforce was not long contained and they confronted Dave one afternoon. Dave casually said that they had been called back into service.  No one was to disturb Brenda for any reason and Dave was to be called on only if the barn was afire.

Mary Haroldson, a classmate of Dave’s and high school girlfriend was not going to be put off by a vague excuse.  There was no doubt in her mind what was going on. “This all sounds a bit over the top for Stockholm. We won’t end up like those folks in ‘Day of the Jackal’, will we?”

Dave knew better than try to BS them, “There is a slight potential this might attract attention, but I’ll tell you right now I have no worries that it will.  In any case, it is just a temporary situation.  It should all be over in a few weeks.  We may want to move the shop operation into town, however. If you want to go that route; we’ll get a crew out here to take care of it.”

Skeptical glances were exchanged in the group. “I only have discussed this at all because I think being honest is better than you worrying in ignorance.  I do ask you to not discuss this with anyone else, not your family, no one.  Anyone asks anything just shrug it off.  Don’t speculate or acknowledge anything.  Everything here is business as usual.  OK?  This is no big deal, it just happens to be sensitive.”

The group nodded.  There was a bit of conversation. An older lady, Janet Henry, raised her hand and said, “I will feel better in town, Dave.”  There was a murmur of ascent.

“OK. Do it.  The Ford Garage is vacant. We are starting to outgrow this building. Mary, round up some of the guys from church and get it taken care of.  I will call Arlen Nelson and make the arrangements.  Thanks, all of you.”

The following morning[cap5]  a parade of stake trucks drove into the yard.  Mary Haroldson ran the move like a drill sergeant. By noon the shop was empty.  The next morning [cap6] the crew was working in town.  Dave arranged for a pig and a keg at the shop that afternoon for the helpers and their families.  The participants couldn’t help but turn it into pot luck and food covered several long tables.  The party grew beyond the bounds of those involved, but no one objected.  There were some token protests when Mary started handing out checks to the men who supplied the trucks and the muscle for the move. “Listen,” she would tell each of them, “there is neighbor stuff and there is business stuff.  This was business stuff and that is all there is to it.  If you don’t take the check I will donate it to PETA in your name!”

Two days later, [cap7] as they were breaking for lunch Brenda said, “I have Sheik Rakin talking to Mullah Hudhayfah.  The Mullah is asking for substantial support for a madrassa.  I doubt any madrassa would need the kind of money he is asking for, even if every child was enrolled at Harvard. The Sheik said he would take care of it that day.”

Dave chewed on his sandwich for a moment before replying, “I just finished going through the accompanying report.  The conclusions aren’t what I would have expected, but everything is referenced. I’m going to look at some of the source material.”

That afternoon Dave made his first inquiry to the CIA computer in Virginia.  The access codes and passwords all worked without pause.  Dave typed in the reference numbers and data started streaming.  After several files loaded Dave commented, “This is second generation in a couple of places. I’m going to peek at that stuff.”

Around three in the afternoon Brenda said,  “I want you to listen to this segment and then write out the translation.”  Dave listened to the segment three times and then typed out a translation on the fourth playing.

Brenda heard the typing and said, “Compare your translation to mine.”

After reading he commented, “As usual, we are in complete agreement.  What’s the significance?”

Brenda said, “Read the translation in the report.”

Dave called up the report segment and read it. “Aside from omitting the “not clear” annotation it reads the same as ours.”

Brenda said, “If that supposedly not clear segment was ‘not’ it would change the meaning of the statement.  If it was ‘never’ or ‘quickly’ the context would be different.  Take a look at the trace and see if you can dig out anything.  It may just be someone was lazy.”

Dave cued the tape. “This is second generation.” He said, but Brenda didn’t reply.  After a few minutes he said, “This is interesting.  This is a cell phone trap.  The entire conversation is consistent a far as the noise level is concerned.  There is just that one spot that has some excessive interference.  There isn’t any indication by the recipient that he didn’t get all of the conversation.  Let me see if I can remove the offending noise.”

Dave made a visual representation of the sound and tried several noise samples on the display.  He finally found one that closely fit and removed the interference. “OK, honey, listen to this and see if this helps any.  I think I have it.”

Brenda listened to the stream. “Oh, that’s very good.  That really cleans up nice!!  That was quick, too.  OK, there is one rotten apple.  What do you think?”  Brenda  signaled for Dave to run the tape again.

After Brenda took the headset off Dave said, “I want to look at the trace some more.  It looks like a solar flare pattern. It also would have to be the shortest flare on record.  So where are you, right now?”

Brenda said, “This is where I’m at.  There are some assignments in here that I don’t think are correct.  They have some passages assigned to Mullah Hudhayfah that I don’t think are his.  It sounds like him, but Hudhayfah is not very sophisticated and his idiom is very low level and common.  They have him using some big words that would be out of character for him. It is very subtle. I would be interested in listening to the tapes for those segments and you can look at them.” 

 

“Do you want to hazard a guess where this might be going?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t extrapolated yet.  Could be just a pot hole, maybe to embarrass the administration.  Or it could be a lot more than that.  Maybe something that would result in big problems.  We can think about that later on.  Now that we have a nibble, let’s see how many fish they sent us.”

They worked until dinner time, then quit for the day.  The day’s mail included a letter from a real estate agent in Virginia offering a house for rent in Kent Gardens.  The letter included a standard listing form including a picture of the house, address and list of amenities.  Dave read the letter and the listing to Brenda. She commented that it sounded nice and they would probably have to use it.

Brenda made a call to a woman she wanted as her housekeeper while they lived in the DC area.  Doris Jenkins was an retired operative Brenda had met several years earlier. On Sunday mornings in her Washington D.C. neighborhood one could easily assume Doris was a middle class black woman who was a pillar of the church and her community. The fact that she had earned her pension by acting as a servant while spying on friends and foes was known to but a handful of players. Doris’ dedication to her country and her service tempered the menial tasks she had to perform for years, exacerbated by racial slurs and a general lack of respect, often from fellow members of the service who knew nothing of her true position.

Brenda made Doris a generous offer and explained they would be coming and going. In any event it was guaranteed six months regardless of whether or not they ever showed up.  Brenda asked her to go to the house and arrange the furniture the way Brenda liked it and stock the house with linens, food, and toiletries.

The following day [cap8] Dave started reviewing information that had been downloaded during the night.  Brenda would interrupt occasionally to ask for a new tape or computer disc.  At lunch they compared notes.  Dave said, “This is starting to look pretty pathetic.  I can’t believe this is from the same people we used to work with.  The first tape I looked at this morning had the same interference pattern as the one we looked at yesterday.  So I set up the analyzer to look for that signal.  Six tapes have the identical interference pattern.  The spots all coincide with referenced portions of conversations.  There weren’t any similar spots anywhere else.  Fascinating, ain’t it, lady?”

Brenda said, “I’m going to go over the report this afternoon.  Why don’t you make travel arrangements so we can be in the house Monday evening and be ready to go to the office on Wednesday morning first thing.”

“I was thinking along the same lines.  I’m looking at going to NSA.  Where are do you think you will be visiting?” 

“I think I’m going to have a long lunch with my friend from the Saudi Embassy, Muhammad Fahd.”

“Really?  What do you expect to get out of him?  He’s such a lap dog.”

“That might be, but the lap dog hears everything his master says.  Muhammad knows all the palace gossip.  He also knows a lot of facts that don’t get published. I think Mullah Hudhayfah is either dead, very sick or has been forced out of whatever position it was he held.  This whole scenario is starting to look just a little too convenient for my way of thinking.”

“Do you have any motive?”

“Yes, but I’ll pass at the moment.  I’m becoming more and more paranoid about being able to think independently and draw our own conclusions.  If you end up drawing the same conclusion I do, then I will feel better. I don’t want you to have an outcome in mind while you are chasing around.  Anyway, I just have a hunch.  At the moment I can’t point to anything and tie it to a particular entity.  Next week we should have a clearer picture of what is happening.”

Monday[cap9]  morning Dave took all of the tapes and discs to the tornado shelter.  Behind a shelving unit a steel door opened into a vault that held several fire arms, ammunition and file cabinets of personal and business documents. Dave loaded all of the materials neatly in the room.  As he exited the room he fastened a high strength padlock through a hasp and slid placed the shelving unit back in place. He exited the shelter with two long metal rods in his hands.  Outside he went to the roof of the shelter and located two holes and dropped the rods in the holes: no casual attempt at getting into the vault would succeed.  The rods would prevent any attempt short of a cutting torch from succeeding.  Dave doubted that even a determined break in artist would have a cutting torch handy.

Dave and Brenda packed clothes and prepared to leave the farm.  On the way to Watertown they stopped by the shop and gave a phone number where they could be reached.  They didn’t know how long they would be gone, but Brenda said “at least a week.” 

In Virginia Doris Jenkins was waiting for them.  Brenda and the house keeper toured the house together and unpacked Brenda’s suitcases. Brenda arranged her clothes and toiletries.  The two women chatted, but Doris never asked the first question about where they had been or why they were back.

Tuesday was spent relaxing at the house.  They met a few neighbors, most of whom were immediately taken in by their old dog.  The few that asked accepted that Dave was retired military working for the government, a common position for many of the nearby residents.  Brenda’s blindness encouraged everyone to assume she stayed at home and no one asked her what she did.

Wednesday morning[cap10]  Dave drove to Fort Meade, Maryland.  Brenda called the Saudi Embassy and made a luncheon appointment with Muhammad Fahd. Following that call she called Hank Phillips to meet with him at the Executive Office Building before lunch.

The guard house and accesses to NSA had changed since Dave’s last visit.  The guard had to prompt him on using the automated access controls, but did not challenge the validity of Dave’s visit.  Dave’s credentials worked flawlessly as he entered the glass palace, and he went directly to an analysis station where he laid claim to the space by opening his laptop computer and placing a coffee cup on the desk top.  After getting his computer booted he displayed a list of numbers.  He called the archives and told the voice at the other end he wanted the material on the list.  He was told the material would be delivered in about 15 minutes.

As Dave waited he accessed records indicating who else had custody of the material since it was initially recorded. Dave was a bit surprised. The material had gone to a translator at CIA on a routine basis and since then there was no other activity.  Based on the amount of time the translator spent with the material Dave doubted it could have been tampered with.  Dave tapped in the chain of custody information into his laptop. 

An archivist came into the station with a cart piled with one-inch tapes. She had a bar code scanner and waved it across Dave’s Security badge, then across each of the tapes.  Before leaving she said, “I haven’t seen you around here for a long time.  Have you been out of town?”

 

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but as I recall you were in a position where you didn’t have to do any external work any more.  Didn’t you marry that blind girl who used to show up occasionally?  What was her name?  Linda?”

Dave smiled, “Brenda.  Yes, we married.”

“How is she doing? You know, she has the reputation for being irrefutable on her translations.  She is also the nicest person to work with.  Will I be seeing her soon?”

“I really don’t know about that.  I’m not sure what she’s working on needs to be done here or can just be taken care of at Langley.”

The archivist turned to leave, “I hope to see her soon. She’s so nice.”

“I will mention you asked after her.”

Dave got to work immediately.  The tapes were first generation. The first thing he checked for was the ‘solar flare’ interference.  It wasn’t there on the first tape.  He racked two more and had the same result. He had racked a fourth tape and hit ‘play’ instead of ‘fast forward’.  The tape rolled for a few seconds before the display came up on the screen. For just a second there was trace Dave was not expecting and then it disappeared into the complex signal presented by a telephone conversation.  Dave made a note and continued to the area he was specifically interested in. Once again there was no interference signal at the point of interest. He continued on until he had verified all of the tapes did not have the interference.

After storing the tapes in a temporary safe Dave walked to the cafeteria.   He bought a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich.  The morning was pleasant and he took his food out to the patio.  There weren’t many others outside, and he didn’t recognize the few that were there so he sat at an unoccupied table. Dave took a bite of his sandwich and a sip of coffee and relaxed for a minute in the warming sun.  Oddly enough, it seemed as if he had never left the service.  He let his mind wander.

A voice jolted him back to reality. “Hey sailor, we ain’t paying you to sit around and drink coffee.”

Dave turned to see a former Navy radioman he had worked with for several years. “Gary!! Great to see you!! Pull up a chair.”

They shook hands and Gary sat down, placing a plate and a cup on the table.  “Let’s see.”  Gary started, “The last time I saw you, you were heading into the sunset with every bridge in the city burning.  How did they even let you on site, not to mention alone?  Does anyone know you are here?”

“I don’t know if anyone knows or if they are even interested.”

“So, what the fuck are you doing here?  How’s Brenda, by the way?  Julie wants to know if you guys have e-mail.”

Dave shifted in his seat to pull out his wallet.  “Brenda’s doing fine.  Here.  This has our e-mail on it.  Brenda has a voice translator on her computer, so she does e-mail quite a bit.”

“Wings for race cars?  South Dakota?”  Gary said with incredulity.  He sat quiet for a minute. “They drag you out of retirement for something?”  He sat for another moment.  “This isn’t one of those things where you aren’t really here is it?”

Dave smiled, “All of my documentation has my name on it.  You don’t have to worry about that.  How are things going for you?”

Gary shrugged. “Good, I guess. The nice thing is that the communications industry keeps changing and the tools keep improving, so there is always a new challenge.  They won’t consider me for management, of course, so I’m pretty much stuck where I’m.  I will probably bail out early next year.”

Dave said, “Maybe you can explain something I saw earlier.  You got a few minutes?”

Gary said, “For you, I have all day.  Are you in a rush or can I finish my snack?”

Dave said, “No rush.  I’m getting paid by the hour.”

Gary raised an eyebrow but let the comment pass as he changed the subject. “You know, I was watching the Speed Channel a couple of weeks ago and thought I saw you in a crowd at Daytona.  I think it was in the pits.”

“That was me.  I have a few friends in the racing game.”  Dave saw no reason to deny he was there.  The best cover was to avoid people catching you in a lie and then they start wondering about other things.

 

At the work station Dave retrieved the tape, set it up and started the tape from the beginning.  He let it play for a minute and stopped it.  “What do you think?”

Gary said, “This isn’t a trick question is it?  I mean, you have a trap of a cell phone conversation.  Certainly you can read that.”

Dave said, “Play it again.  Look a little closer this time.”

Gary rewound the tape and started over.  As soon as it started he said. “What was that?  Let’s see that again.” He rewound the tape and started it again.  This time he froze the signal at the beginning. “Isn’t that special?  Is it just there or elsewhere?  Let’s have a little look.”  He sent the tape forward and stopped it arbitrarily.  He started the tape and applied several filters.  He eventually had just the original signal.

Perhaps as much to himself as to Dave, Gary said, “This indicates that there was a carrier from a HF transmitter.  I’m not sure exactly which one right off the bat.  It doesn’t look familiar.  It shouldn’t take long to dig it up.

Gary pressed the fingers of his right hand together with his left hand and massaged them before continuing, “Huh!  Let’s see.  The transmitter fires up and then carries a cell phone conversation.  But, we trap cell phone conversations without any amplifiers all the time.  Could this be some kind of field relay?  Maybe someone anticipating a call?  I don’t know.  Run it against the database.”

Dave typed at a computer terminal off and on for close to a minute as he manipulated his way through the system.  He typed a short sequence and then waited several seconds.

Half absently, half addressing Gary he said, “Looks like an old Schmidt transmitter.  Darn thing has tubes.  Was the best set you could buy in its day.  The quality is as good as any solid state set today.  Who would use something like that?”

Gary flatly said, “You would be hard pressed to trace it.  I’m sure whoever sold it originally has thrown out their records from 30 years ago.  I doubt the first owner kept a record of who he sold it to.  It could have gone out the door of a government auction 25 years ago to an amateur in Holland who sold it at a swap meet to an un-named person ten years ago.

Dave turned to face Gary as Gary continued, “Several groups got clever in the early nineties and bought all kinds of junk equipment for a few bucks a set.  They would use a set for a few months and then sell it.  After a group got tied to a set they got smarter and destroyed the sets instead of selling them.  We finally caught on and started keeping track of who was at the swap meets, visiting flea markets and answering classified ads.”

Dave chewed on his left cheek as he contemplated Gary’s explanation.“This puts a wrinkle in the situation I wasn’t expecting.  Who typically does this?  Who knows this is a typical M.O.?”

“The old radio set routine has been used for decades by everyone,” Gary answered. “Most practitioners were smart enough to destroy sets they didn’t use anymore.”

“So the Brits and Jews and Reds all know the Arabs are doing this?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Just taking inventory.”  Dave started typing commands into the computer.  He got a reply, followed by a security firewall.

He turned to Gary. “Can you get this?”

Gary paused for a few moments but proceeded without question or comment.  The computer played with itself for several moments and finally displayed, “Data Parameter Match Not Found.”

Gary sat without comment.  Dave thought about the message. “Not Found” wasn’t the same as “Not Available”.  The protocols were such that bureaucratic firewalls could be constructed to keep everyone in the world from getting data, but not eliminate data.  There were smoking guns scattered throughout the data that nobody could get to.

Dave finally asked, “What are the chances this was a real cell phone call?”

 “That’s a little beyond my comfort zone.  The analysts would have to compare this data with the other data they have and then make a determination based on previous traffic.  You should be asking Brenda.”

Dave said, “Yeah, yeah. Save it for the suits. This is Dave asking. I have never known you to miss the significance of this kind of detail.”

Gary shrugged, “If we were in a jewelry shop and someone was trying to sell me this I would pass.”

 

Dave nodded, but didn’t say anything. As if oblivious to Gary, he began writing notes on a pad.  Gary sat for a minute and then left. He knew Dave was deeply concentrating.  He knew it wasn’t necessary to say good bye.

 

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Brenda called a taxi to take her into the city.  She went to the EOB and was ushered without delay into a discreet waiting area beyond the public reception lobby.  A porter arrived and offered refreshment, which she politely declined.  After a few minutes passed, Hank Phillips arrived.

“Mrs.Olson? Hank Phillips. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.  I wasn’t in the building when you arrived.  What can I do for you?”

Brenda paused for a moment;  she was not sure if the person who was supposed to be her liaison had been briefed. She was blunt. “Is this a secure room?”

Hank was taken aback for a moment, but replied, “No.  I guess we should move.  Let me call and see where an open room is.”  Hank made a quick call and then returned to Brenda, “I found a room.  Would you care to take my arm?”

Brenda stood and Hank approached and took her arm.  They walked to an elevator, went up two floors then walked to a small, vacant briefing room.

“We can talk here,” Hank said, after guiding Brenda to a seat.

            Brenda said, “We haven’t met before, so I have to ask.  Have you been briefed on my task?”

Hank said, “Actually, I haven’t.  The President talked to me a week ago and said I might be hearing from you or your husband.  He said I was to get you whatever you desire, open any doors that needed opening.  He said a request from you was equal to a request from him. Anything you tell me gets repeated to the President alone. What can I do for you?”

“You can pass this message along.  ‘We have serious concerns with regards to the information we were given.  At this time it should not be used to formulate any policy decision or course of action.

“You may also advise the President we should have a preliminary report by Monday outlining our objections to the authenticity of the material.”

After waiting for more information and not getting any Hank said, “That’s all?”

 “That’s all for now.  I’m sure the President will want complete technical references and documentation.  That’s forthcoming.  We thought he would appreciate advance notice.”

 “Yes sir.. Thank you for coming by.  I will pass along your message.  May I assist you someway?”

Brenda stood and said, “I would like a taxi.”

****************************************************************************

The taxi took Brenda to the Islamic Center on Massachusetts Avenue.  As the taxi driver was opening the door for Brenda a man approached from the building.  “Brenda!  How delightful to see you!” Muhammad Fahd  could have just stepped off of a fashion shoot for GQ magazine.  His grooming and clothes were impeccable.

They exchanged a casual hug.  “You still wear too much scent, Muhammad.”  Brenda said playfully.

“As long as you don’t start criticizing my tailor.” Muhammad replied.  “Why did you take a taxi?  I would have been happy to send a car for you.”

The taxi driver returned to his car and drove off.  Brenda replied, “I’m on expenses.  More importantly, I don’t want to be completely obvious.”

“Oh.  I understand. So I suppose the reason you called wasn’t to tell me you are divorcing your husband and have decided to accept my standing offer of marriage.”

“No, I’m afraid not.  However, you can take me to lunch.”

“You just said you are on expenses.”

“That doesn’t stop me from putting the squeeze on you.  Let’s do something quiet and out of the way.”

“We can walk from here to Isadore.  Would that suit you?”

“Yes, that will be fine.  Do they still have the patio in the back, or did they add on to the building?”

“No, the patio is still open.  They can’t get the building permits for the addition.”

 

Brenda and Muhammad walked a block and a half to the restaurant.  It was a bit early for the main lunch crowd and they sat alone in the center of the patio.

Muhammad ordered for both of them.  He knew Brenda’s tastes.  When the waiter left Muhammad asked, “What is the occasion, dear Brenda?  Your husband worked very hard to make you non-grata when you left.  Now you live on the prairie like Laura Engler.  What could ever make you return?”

“Laura Ingalls.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Her Name was Laura Ingalls.  Not Engler, Ingalls. I don’t know why you keep trying to use literature references when passing yourself off as just some guy.  You had to take that American Literature course twice!”

Brenda knew which buttons to push to maintain the advantage. 

Muhammad appreciated Brenda’s intellect, not as much as he appreciated her physical presence, but his respect for her was deep and uncharacteristically without the indifference he held for nearly every other woman.  “Did I get the right State?  South Dakota?”  He plead.

“Yes,  but don’t feel too proud, they lived in several states.  Just like ‘George Washington slept here’; in our part of the country it is Laura Ingalls lived here.  As far as being in town goes, you might not understand. Let me just offer that I felt I needed to get off the farm for a few days.  A free lance offer came up and we decided to take it.”

“And how can I help you?”  The relationship between Muhammad and Brenda was almost like that of a brother and sister. Brenda trusted Muhammad completely and Muhammad had a deep respect for Brenda.  Muhammad also had a small hole in his heart from being in love with Brenda.  They became acquainted when Brenda was in college.  Muhammad was an exchange student from Saudi Arabia. When he first arrived in the United States he had an extremely low regard for any woman and didn’t bother to mask his hostility, especially for women in positions of authority.

However, he was strongly encouraged by his advisors to participate in co-ed activities.  Brenda had joined an Arab-American social organization on campus when she started studying Arabic and it was there they met.  Muhammad became a de facto tutor, as Brenda forced him to carry on conversations with her in Arabic.

She would attend social gatherings with him where most of the people were Arabic and quietly listened to their conversations, picking up idioms and colloquialisms that she otherwise wouldn’t learn from her texts. The other Arab men were of the opinion her blindness further diminished her already low status as a woman.  As far as they were concerned she was not only insignificant, she was irrelevant.   Brenda exploited those attitudes to her advantage in the following years.

Brenda opened the portfolio she was carrying and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is a transcript of a conversation made last September.   I need your opinion of who the speaker is.”

Muhammad read the text in silence.  He finished, glanced up at Brenda, but got no response, of course.  He then said, “You must have some doubts.”  Brenda said nothing, and Muhammad gave a slight sigh and studied the text some more.

Muhammad slid the paper back to Brenda and she felt it for a few seconds as if getting it orientated correctly and then placed it in the portfolio.

Muhammad said, “Three holes.  Do you not trust me?”  There were three small holes in the paper.  Brenda had marked the paper to insure she got back the same paper she handed out.

“They are just there so I can keep everything oriented.  If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be here,” Brenda said in an off-hand manner.

Muhammad said, “I don’t know who this is.  I can tell you it is not Mullah Hudhayfah.  Mullah Hudhayfah knows the Koran and Islamic culture as well as anyone alive.  But, he was born a goat herder and really has never had any exposure to any outside education or experiences.  There are two references, and by the way I know that you know which ones they are, that aren’t the language he would use.”

The waiter arrived with their food.  As the waiter was leaving Brenda said, “What’s the buzz around town?”

Muhammad relaxed and took a sip of his water. “Since the September 11 attacks the surveillance activities have increased greatly.  Frankly, I think all of the agencies are spread very thin on the domestic side.  The surveillance teams aren’t as sharp as they used to be.  I think they are pushing your new people through their training too quickly.  On the other side of the coin there was a mass exodus of Arab operatives.  My people, in particular, did not want any of their people caught doing anything.  You know, before the attacks when someone would slip and get caught they were either quietly dispatched or sent home.  The fear today is that some congressman will get wind of what is happening and demand a trial and hearings and whatever else comes along.  So, for the time being, there aren’t too many operatives hanging around.  Only the absolute best and most securely placed still remain.”

“Like you?” Brenda asked

“Like me.” Muhammad replied with a hint of boasting pride.

“Aside from sloppy recruits what do you see on our side?”

“Fact or gossip?”

“Fact.”

“They reassigned Dan Kelly from the Saudi desk to Algeria.  They reassigned Fred Painter from the Qatar/UAE desk to Libya.  Both of their replacements, Kevin Haroldson and Paul Novatny, came from field assignments in Indonesia.”

Brenda sat quietly for a moment.  “How about gossip?”

“Edward Frazier likes young boys.”

Brenda sat silently for another minute. Edward Frazier was the director of the NSA.  “How strong is that?”

“Life and death.”  The reference was that the informant would be shot if he was found to be lying.

“So, does anyone on this side of the ocean know that, or is this being held in reserve for when something really important comes up?”

Muhammad sat for a minute, contemplating what to say.  Brenda said, “You have given me the answer.  I don’t suppose you will tell me who has this information.”

Muhammad sat quietly.  He was thinking about the chain of informants and how a breach might get back to him.  He reached for his water.  Brenda and Muhammad ate in silence for several minutes.

Brenda finally said, “Have I ever let you down?”

 

Muhammad laughed, “You broke my heart.  But, no, you are probably the one person I would trust with my life.”

There was silence for a lengthy period while they each slowly worked on their meal.

Muhammad finally broke the silence.  Much of the color had started to leave his face. “I want to give it up.  All of it. Can you help?”

Brenda was piqued,. “How soon?  I can’t do anything for you right this moment.  Even if I can, you understand you will have to live pretty much in isolation.”

“I have thought a lot about it. I agree that it will be a solitary existence, but there is no honor in what I’m doing now.”

There was another pause, then Muhammad spoke. “When I say your help, I mean you, personally.  I don’t want the government to be involved at all.  I have a new identity ready to use. I have enough old money to get established.”

Brenda said, “You know that anything like this is far beyond my area of expertise.”

Muhammad interrupted, “I know.  That is why I’m asking you.  I need someone who can execute this who doesn’t have a history.”

“Do you have an idea where you want to go?”

“Someplace out in your region.  A piece of ground with a house on it.  I really enjoyed the trips I took to Western Nebraska while I was in Omaha.  I can handle small town living.”

“I will have to run this past Dave.  He has more resources along those lines than I do.  Does anyone have any idea this might happen?  Anyone from your own side watching you? Can you walk away on a minute’s notice with just the clothes on your back?”

“I can’t walk away right this minute, all I’m lacking at the moment is identifications. Between your guys and my guys there isn’t a lot that I do that isn’t reported someplace. I haven’t said or done anything to make anyone think I’m unhappy.”

 

***************************************************************************************

 

Dave and Brenda took the dog for a walk after dinner.

“All right, first things first.  Do you think the bit about Frazier is tied to what we are looking at?”

Brenda replied, “I haven’t come up with a scenario where this would work,”  she paused for a moment, then added, “yet.”

“However, I think Muhammad may have some key information. If he didn’t have something to offer he would have told me.  I have tested him in the past and he has always been forthcoming when I presented him with a bogus piece.  He has never tried to BS his way through something.”

Dave said, “All right.  You know him a lot better than I do.  Do you think he’s sincere about dropping out.  I don’t particularly want to get mixed up with something like that.”

“I think he’s sincere.  I think he has become Americanized.  He may think there is something to be gained by being an anonymous American instead of a prominent Arab spy.  He has a good stash of cash available.”

“All right.  I’ll see if I can make some arrangements.  Do you want him to be a neighbor or not?”

“Not.   Sooner or later he will slip.  Sooner or later someone will sniff him out. Sooner or later he will be shot.  I don’t want him within a hundred miles.  No, I don’t want him in the same state.”

Dave said, “All right.  I think I can put this together.”  Dave took a cell phone off his belt and punched in a number.  In a few seconds he said, “Rick?  Dave.  …Doing great.  How about Freddie’s for lunch tomorrow? …Yep.  I know.  Are you going to be there or not?   …OK,  see you about one.  …OK.  Bye.”

Dave punched in a another number.  “Hey Linda, this is Dave.  …I’m doing fine, how are you?  …Great.  Tom around?” There was a pause.  “Tom.  Dave.  …I’m doing great.  …Yeah, Brenda is doing fine, too.  Hey, I have a friend who needs a guide.  Are you available?  …Great.  …What’s that?  No, that’s all right.  No, don’t mention it.  …OK see you next year.  Bye.”

Brenda asked,  “You’re going to ship Muhammad to Tom?”

 

Dave said, “Yeah, Tom can take care of him temporarily and get him set up long term.  Plus, he won’t be in  South Dakota.”

When they got home Dave went into the garage, demolished the cell phone and placed the pieces in the container for the dog poop.

Thursday[cap11]  morning Brenda sat in front of her computer, listening to displays of organization charts for intelligence agencies.  Dave headed to New Jersey.

Freddie’s Restaurant was located on the shore of the Delaware River in Pennsville, New Jersey.  The lunch crowd was dispersing as Dave and Rick were coming in the door.

Rick said, “This is odd.  I thought you were living in South Dakota.”

Dave said, “Yeah.  This is just temporary.”

 “I can’t imagine what it could be that would get you anywhere near here,” Rick said..  Well, there’s a dirt track up the street a few miles.”

Dave ignored the challenge, “I have a friend who lives in Beulah, North Dakota. I have another friend who wants to move there.  Can you handle the transportation?”

Rick face contorted as he considered the request.  “How much junk?”

 “None. Not even a toothbrush.”

Rick made a low whistle. Dave continued, “All cash, no motels.”

 “When and where?” Rick asked.

“Be at the Court House metro station Saturday morning around 11.  Wear a red sweatshirt. A well-dressed Arab will approach you and ask about the bus to Arlington.  Here is a list of approximate clothing sizes.  Get some secondhand, clean clothes, just three or four sets.  Get a toiletry kit.  The passenger is going to get in your van and you are going to drive.  Don’t tell him where you are going or that you know me or anything else.  The passenger should give you $10,000 in cash shortly after he gets in the van.  If he doesn’t, dump him out and go home.”

Dave took his napkin and drew a crude map.  “Here’s Beulah. Route 49 runs north and south.  On the north side of town 49 tees. Go east exactly 3.5 miles. There is a homestead on the south side.  There is an old farmhouse, a modular house and a couple of doublewides.  Drive up to the modular.  Got it?”

Rick took the napkin and stuffed in his shirt pocket. “You going to be back at the farm this fall? I was thinking about coming out for some hunting.”

 “Yeah, we’ll be back by then.  All of this is just a favor for a friend, just a coincidence it came up.”

Rick picked up the check, examined it briefly and finally said. “Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?  You paying for this?”

Dave gave him an exasperated look, “Yes.”

Later that evening Dave and Brenda walked the dog and discussed the days events and arrangements for Muhammad.  Brenda was to sit with Muhammad on a bench at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.  The most he could take with him was a brief case.  Rick’s name would never be mentioned. 

Brenda related her findings of the day.  There had been a lot of shuffling of personnel between the various agencies in the wake of September 11, 2001.  Many of the changes could handily be ascribed to that.  Brenda had marked several position changes that did not make sense to her and Dave would look at them when they were back at the house.

Later in the evening Dave was reviewing Brenda’s notes and making his own timelines.  He worked in silence for over an hour.  Brenda monitored his efforts as best she could with the audio interface.  She was occasionally frustrated when Dave would flip through a screen where he saw the information but the audio program had not yet read it and all Brenda heard was sporadic, truncated sentences.

Dave finally said, “I’m beginning to get a picture of who is pulling the strings.  What I don’t have a clue about is why the strings are being pulled.    Is this information being manipulated in order to lead the President into a certain policy or action?  Is it being manipulated just to embarrass the President?  Maybe the President isn’t the target.  Maybe the President is being set up to be the executioner.  Or, maybe this was an internal audit game that was discovered and unknowingly sent on.”

 

Brenda thought about the possibilities and then said, “I don’t think it’s an internal game.  The construct is wrong.  However, I do think that it is set up such that, for instance, assume that someone wanted to embarrass or execute someone else.  If the scheme is exposed mid stream, or even after the fact, the perpetrator could just say, ‘Oh, you are mistaken, this is just an internal audit exercise.’  If this is where the path is taking us, this will have to be locked down and all the excuses dismissed before we say much of anything to anyone.”

 “You’re right about that,”  Dave quickly agreed. “I’ll have to get on this the first thing in the morning.  I’m hoping Muhammad has something concrete for us on Saturday.  His situation is a distraction we don’t need if there isn’t a pot of information.”

Brenda knew the work was over for the night and started playing with Dave’s thinning hair.  Dave turned to her and gently pulled to him while he kissed her.  No words were spoken as they caressed and kissed each other.  Dave gathered Brenda in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

Friday[cap12] 

The CIA building was closest to the house, and in the morning they both went there to work.  On the way Brenda contacted Muhammad with a prearranged message that the trip was Saturday and the meeting place was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Once inside CIA they found adjoining work stations and set about their tasks.  Brenda reviewed audio from Arab sources that might link to Mullah Hudhayfah.  Dave went to work looking at personnel files, resumes and college transcripts. 

Dave memorized the names of all the people who had accessed the audio files he studied on Wednesday. If what they were looking at was indeed a covert operation then whoever was involved would be sophisticated enough not to leave any evidence of direct contact. 

Brenda and Dave worked on slightly different internal clocks, so when Brenda felt a need for a break she did not disturb Dave.  Brenda got up from her station and started toward the cafeteria. 

Brenda was making her way in the main corridor when a familiar voice said, “Brenda.  It’s Susan Ramsey.  Where are you headed?  I’ll take you there.”

“Susan!  How nice to hear your voice!” Brenda held out her left arm and Susan folded her elbow around Brenda’s arm. “I’m heading for the cafeteria for a break.”

“I was heading off to get some files, but I’ll take a small detour for you.  Anyway, the files won’t miss me!  How are you?  What in the world are you doing here?  I know people leave and then come back again, but, honestly, I never expected you to show up again.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you. As far as being back, let’s just say the money couldn’t be turned down.”

“Oh, one of those deals,” Susan said.  “Tell me, miz contractor, how good is the money?”

“Obscene would probably be the word you would use.  I won’t lie to you, I set a price that was way beyond the guidelines.”

“Good for you!” Susan said enthusiastically and sincerely. “Here’s a table.  Can I get you something?  Are you still pushing grapefruit juice?”

Brenda smiled, “Yes! That would be wonderful.  Do they still have the date filled pastries?  One of those and a coffee will be just fine.”

Brenda pulled her wallet out of the purse and retrieved a $20 bill.  Susan protested, “That’s all right.  I’ll get it.”

Brenda countered, “No, this treat’s on Uncle.  Believe me.  Get something for yourself.”

Susan said, “I won’t argue.  You make it hard for someone to be nice, though!”  Brenda laughed.

Susan was gone for a half minute when a voice in front of Brenda said, “Brenda, What brings you to town?”

Brenda, feigning ignorance of the speaker replied, “Pardon me if I don’t answer that.  I’m blind and you didn’t introduce yourself.”

The speaker, momentarily rebuffed, said, “Jack Haas, Brenda.”  Jack Haas was the top non-appointed person in the CIA.  At one time he had been Brenda’s manager.  There was no doubt that Jack’s priorities were his personal ambitions first and the security of the country second.  He had languished in bureaucratic near-obscurity during the cold war and was only able to become a player with the advent of the Iran-Iraq conflict.  A few timely, but not overly brilliant assessments brought him out of the shadows of obscurity, followed by some shrewd politicking and soon he was doing more “administering” and less analyzing.

Unlike most of his predecessors, however, Jack’s name kept appearing on reports as being the brains behind the analysis.  This created ill will among the analysts doing the actual work, followed by some defections to other agencies, retirements of key people and resignations among young analysts.

“Jack.  What brings you to the employee’s cafeteria?  Was there a bomb threat on your floor?”  Brenda had no love for Jack Haas and had long ago lost any respect for him.  Since she wasn’t concerned about keeping her job, she didn’t need to pretend to be polite.

“I was told you were here.  I just thought I would stop by and stay hello for old time’s sake.”

“That must have been Gary Harwood who told you.  I suppose he still has his nose buried in your butt.”

Jack started to speak, but stopped short.

Brenda caught the slight gasp Jack made and said, “It’s a good thing Gary is an analyst.  He would never survive as an operative if he can’t hide from a blind woman.

“Yes, I’m here, Jack. Anything else on your mind aside from an insincere greeting?”

“Well, I do like to keep abreast of what is going on in my building,” Jack said.  “What brings you here?”

Brenda said very softly, as if passing along top secret information, “I’m here on a state pass.  They are checking out a report that your homosexual lover has been selling secrets to the Greek Cypriots.”

It was an old dodge, one Jack had heard many times before, and Brenda knew it.  “Seriously, Jack, there is a big investigation going on regarding some old material that may have been ‘adjusted’.  Your name is on a lot of it.  Since I’m familiar with all of the players and don’t have any personal interest in the outcome, they called on me. Pretty simple stuff.”

“What about your husband?”  Jack snapped.  Brenda’s barb hit Jack spot-on.  Brenda smiled.

“I don’t go much of anywhere without Dave.  I think he’s using your computers to dig up dirt on his business competitors.  Don’t be surprised if one of your operatives reports he has been asked to take out some civilian in England or Germany.  Be an old friend and authorize the request.”

 

Susan returned with a tray.  “Jack!  If I knew you were joining us I would have brought a cup of hemlock.”

“Susan, if you weren’t sleeping with the director I would have your job.”

“Eat your heart out, Jack.  428 days and I’ll be out of here, then YOU can sleep with him.”

Jack snarled at Susan, then politely told Brenda, “Thanks for the tip.  I hope you ladies have a nice day.”

Neither Susan nor Brenda returned the departing comment. They started eating their snacks.  Susan filled in Brenda on the recent agency politics and gossip.  Brenda occasionally asked an innocent question. 

With a tone of resignation Susan said, “This’s been nice, but I do have some work to get done.  Will you be around long?”

Brenda said, “It’s kind of hard to tell.  I may be back once or twice.  I’ll give you a call if I’m in the building.  Are you still at 6685?”

 “No,  3769.  I will talk with you later. Can I give you a lead back to your cubicle”

Brenda rose from her chair, retrieved her cane and replied, “Thank you.  I’m camping in 316 East.”

When Brenda and Susan reached the work station, Dave was deeply engrossed in his task and Susan did not bother to say anything.  She just whispered her good bye to Brenda.  Brenda whispered back her thanks and Susan left the area.

After a few minutes  Dave spoke,  “Anything interesting in the cafeteria?”

“Susie Ramsey filled me in on some gossip.  Jack Haas stopped by. Gary Harwood passed me in the corridor without speaking while I was heading to the cafeteria and reported to Haas.

“Susie told me that six months ago Gus Justice was taken off Arabian Peninsula analysis and placed in the northern sector analysis group for about a month and then returned to his original assignment.  She didn’t have any specific dates and since it was done within the group there’s probably no record of it.”

Dave thought for a minute. “That might fit in with what we’re looking at.  I know Gus did not handle this material, at least not directly.  He may have been given a little shuffle in order to have this pass without him seeing it.  What else?”

 

“Claire Edwards has been outspoken lately about being passed over for Department head in favor of a DIA import Jack Haas brought in.  Jack Haas has dismissed the situation by claiming he was forced into it by the Whitehouse.  Claire believes that story, although Susie says it was Jack all the way and the Whitehouse had nothing to do with it.”

Dave shook his head. “Claire doesn’t have the smarts or the guts to do anything like this.  But I will set her up as a possible target for retribution.”

Dave was silent again.  Finally he said, “I want to explore a different scenario entirely.”

Again he fell into silence.  Brenda said, “Smoke.”

 “Yes, I think so.”  Dave leaned back in his chair with his hands interlocked behind his head. “I haven’t quite finished assembling the scenario on this, but this is the path I want to explore next:  suppose I know you are watching what I do.  I want to do something very important, but without you watching.  So, I offer up something sufficiently tasty that you stop watching me long enough for me to do what I want.”

Brenda countered, “Don’t confine your search to the Arabs wanting to confuse us.  It may also be a case of somebody here wanting to distract the staff while they sneak in and do something else.  It may be that somebody here doesn’t want the regular folks to be aware answers are being sought on some item.”

“I like that.  I wasn’t thinking along those lines.  That might explain several things that have been bothering me.”

“It may explain why all of this ended up being offered up as a package.  Brenda said slowly, seeming to formulate a train of thought as she spoke. “The diversion wound up being taken too seriously.  Somebody wanted to put the brakes on” 

Saturday[cap13]  morning Muhammad Fahd found Brenda sitting on a park bench near the Vietnam War Memorial.  Dave was nearby but not noticeable.  Muhammad said, “Brenda, I’m here.”

Brenda replied, “You still wear too much scent.  I knew you were near by.  That is going to change drastically. Get mentally prepared for Old Spice or Aqua Velva. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.  I have a brief case with me with the cash you required and some for me.  When I get  up to leave I will pass a key to you.  It’s for a house at 1472 Mockingbird Trail, in Falls Church. Get the key to Geoffrey Taylor at DIA.  He can still be trusted.  He will forward a synopsis of the material to you.”

“Thank you, Muhammad,” Brenda said as she reached into her purse and withdrew a card.  “Here is a Metro Pass.  Go to the Foggy Bottom Station and take the Orange Line over to the Court House Station. When you exit the station look across the street for a man wearing a red sweatshirt.  Ask him if he knows when the next bus to Arlington is due.  He’ll direct you from there.

“He will not ask your name and don’t ask him his.  Follow his every direction and everything will work out as well as possible. Pay him as soon as you get in his vehicle.

“When you leave here walk through the memorial.  As you leave there will be two biker-looking vets that will follow you at a discrete distance to the Metro, just in case.”

“Brenda, you have been a good friend.  Thank you for what you have done. Where am I going?”

Brenda replied, “All I can tell you is be prepared for spending several days in a car listening to country-western music.”

“Good bye, Brenda.  I know I’ll never see you again. You are the classiest woman I’ve ever met and I am sincerely going to miss you.” Muhammad stood and moved off to the memorial. 

Dave surveyed the surroundings for signs of someone tailing Muhammad.  A slender man, wearing a leather overcoat, sitting next to a woman with a baby got up and casually headed toward the memorial, some 100 feet behind Muhammad. Dave adjusted his ball cap.  A minute later an unnoticed, strung out foursome headed north to I street.

Muhammad walked with his usual, purposeful gait. The fact he was walking was not particularly unusual; he walked to many meetings, especially if they were within a half mile of where he was.  If he indeed had a tail it could be assumed he was heading for the State Department or some other nearby building for a meeting.  He was just another suit with a briefcase.  He encountered a dozen other men and women who looked just like him along the way.

The bikers determined who the tail was halfway to I Street and dropped back from Muhammad to be closer to the tail.

When Muhammad crossed 23^rd Street to the Metro entrance he just made the walk light, leaving behind the escort and the tail.  A knot of people gathered at the crosswalk, and the tail caught up with the bikers, standing next to one of them.  The tail was keeping his attention focused on the Metro entrance.  Just as the signal changed, one of the bikers patted the buttocks of a lady standing in front of the tail.  She turned around and started yelling at the tail.  When he tried to push past, one of the bikers got in his face, telling him he better apologize.  The tail tried to push past the biker, but was quickly caught up by the other biker.

An observant beat cop came to investigate the commotion.  It was perfect: the woman was still screaming, the tail was arguing and the light changed again. The tail finally realized the only way out was to say he was sorry, it was an accident.  When the light again changed he ran across the street to the station and disappeared down the entrance.  He got to the ticket turnstiles in time to see Muhammad entering a train. A few seconds later the doors closed and the train left the station.

The tail retrieved his cell phone and made a hurried call.  He spoke in rapid Arabic.  He had to repeat the message four times and confirm it twice.  Still talking, he walked around as if confused until he saw a system map.  It took him a few minutes to come up with which train Muhammad was on and the direction it was headed.  By the time the people on the other end of the conversation would be able to react it would be a half hour for them to get to any of the stations across the river.  Muhammad would be long gone.

Muhammad surfaced from the Court House Station and saw a lanky man wearing a red sweatshirt leaning up against a light pole, reading a newspaper.  “Excuse me, sir. Do you know when the next bus to Arlington is?”

Rick folded his paper and said, “There’s a blue Dodge mini van around the corner, about mid way down the block.  Get in the rear door on the passenger side.”

Muhammad started walking toward the van. Rick went back to his paper for a minute.  He folded his paper, made a big gesture looking at his watch, then went to the van.

 The second row seats were missing and Muhammad had to sit in the third row seat. The windows had very dark tint, making it difficult for a casual observer to see anything inside.

Rick started the van and drove off.  A few quick turns and they were headed west on the Scenic Parkway.  He connected with I- 470 and headed north. When they were well established in the general flow of traffic he said, “There’s a change of clothes in the bag in front of you.  You have about a half hour to get out of what you are wearing and into those.  They may not look like much, but they’re all clean.  Whatever you have in the briefcase put in the duffel”

Muhammad now understood why the second row of seats was missing.  He looked in the bag.  There were undershirts, tee-shirts, boxers, briefs, socks, shoes, two pair of pants and two shirts.  He stripped bare and then dressed. Aside from his perfect grooming, he could have been any blue collar worker from the middle east.

After changing he said, “I’m supposed to give you this.”  He handed Rick an envelope with $10,000 in it. 

“Thank you.” Rick said.  He didn’t check the contents.  He stuffed the envelope over the visor.

They drove in silence for a half hour.  Rick finally said, “We’re stopping at a truck stop near Hagerstown.  We’ll get out at the fuel pump, I’ll start fueling.  You go inside to the men’s room.  Take the duffel with you. Buy a snack if you want.  I’ll come in and hit the head and then we’ll continue.  Do not leave anything in this vehicle you ever want to see again.”

At the truck stop Muhammad followed his directions. After a few minutes Rick came in, relieved himself, paid for the gas and a handful of Slim-Jims with cash and they left the building.  As they walked out the door the mini-van was leaving the gas pumps.  Rick said, “Go to the maroon van.  Get in the passenger seat, throw your bag in the back.”

The full-sized van was converted into a rolling cheap-motel room.  As they were leaving the truck stop Rick said, “This is going to be our home for a few days.  There’s food in the fridge and a port-a-pot. We’ll only be out of this vehicle to get gas.  You can sleep when you want.  I’ll stop after midnight tonight for a couple of hours.”  With the instructions voiced, he pushed in a Johnny Cash CD, set the cruise control and settled back into his seat.

A momentary wave of apprehension swept over Muhammad. He just betrayed the country of his birth, had given up a well heeled, if not lavish, lifestyle and was now basically a fugitive heading to an unknown location.  He took out his billfold and looked at his identification. “I’m Garround Mustaffa.  I live in Dearborn, Michigan. I work for my Uncle as a book keeper.  He has a plumbing company.”

Rick nodded, but said nothing. He headed to West Virginia. 

Darkness fell as they headed across Ohio.  At a rural exit Rick stopped the van, got out and changed the license plates from Maryland to Iowa.  At the next river crossing he slowed, lowered his window and sailed the Maryland plates into the river.

Near midnight Rick pulled into an Indianapolis WalMart parking lot and he and Muhammad slid into the built in bunks and went to sleep. 

Sunday Rick drove northwest through Indiana and Illinois to pick up I-80, then west through Iowa.  A stop for gas was the only chance to stretch their legs.  Muhammad bought three newspapers at the convenience store.  They stopped for the night at Brookings, South Dakota, parking in the WalMart parking lot.

On Monday they drove past Bismarck, North Dakota, and then turned north toward Beulah.  North of Beulah Rick turned right on Route 200.  He reset his trip odometer to zero.  Three and a half miles east he turned into the homestead, drove several hundred yards on the drive and came into an expansive yard with several buildings.

He honked the horn.  A woman poked her head out the door momentarily, and then disappeared.  A half minute later a man came out of the house, gave a wave directing Rick to one of the mobile homes.  Rick pulled around.

When Rick parked the van he got out and shook hands with Tom.  “This is Garround Mustaffa.  He is a book keeper from Dearborn.”

Muhammad came around the front of the van, walking a bit stiffly.  He had the duffel in his left hand.  He extended his right hand. Tom took it, “I’m Tom Carlsten.”

 “You staying over?” Tom asked Rick.

 “No, I have some crumbs to drop and I want to get back home.”

Muhammad reached in the duffel and took out an envelope and handed it to Rick. “Thank you very much.  If you ever see Dave or Brenda tell them I’m eternally grateful.  There is no way I can properly thank all of you for your assistance.  Thank you again.  It is obvious Dave and Brenda have professional friends.”

Rick turned to Tom and said, “You got my package?” 

 “Oh, yeah.  Hang tight for a minute.” 

Tom turned and went back to his house and returned momentarily with an express mail flat envelope.  Rick opened it and took out a set of Pennsylvania license plates. 

After changing the plates he asked Tom, “Got a place for these?”

Tom smiled, “I’ve got a lagoon that will dissolve them in a week, no problem.”

Rick stuck his hand out toward Muhammad, “Good luck. I think we got away clean.”

Muhammad took Rick’s hand in both of his . “Thank you.  Thank you.”

Rick drove east on route 200 to I-29.  He drove north to the Canadian Border, then on to Winnipeg, where he finally checked into the Radisson Hotel.  In his room he opened the envelope Muhammad gave him earlier.  The envelope had 200 $100 bills.

            After Muhammad departed, Dave and Brenda left the memorial.  As they were walking Brenda said, “He gave me a key to a safe house.  He said to give it to Geoffrey Taylor at DIA.  What do you think?”

Dave agreed. “I think that is what we should do. But I also think we should go with Geoffrey when he opens it up.  Lets wait a day or two, however.  Since Muhammad had a keeper there may be some people watching us.”

They walked in silence until they reached the car.  Brenda said, “I want to go over to Maryland on Monday and see if Mitch Canfield is still working.  I think he’s going to be able to help us  more than anyone else at this point.”

 “That sounds as good as anything else,” Dave agreed.  “I don’t really have any good feeling about which question to ask next.  Maybe Mitch can pull something out of the æther.”

Late Monday[cap14]  morning they drove to NSA headquarters.

Brenda and Dave were barely inside the building before the Director, Edward Frazier, approached them. 

“Dave, Brenda! The prodigals have returned.  Step into my office for a moment, please.”

Dave and Brenda followed the Director as requested.  They walked through the cluster of assistants and then into the spacious, albeit cluttered inner office of the Director.

“Have a seat.”  Dave pulled a seat up for Brenda and then arranged his own and sat.

The director walked around his desk. “Usually I know when and why contractors are in my building because I authorize and hire them. In your case, you just waltz in like you have been here every day for ten years.  I know you’ve been here and at Langley, yet I don’t find your names anywhere except the entry and exit logs.  I have found, however, that Presidential accesses seven and eight seem to follow your travels.  That has me nervous.  The National Security Advisor has access numbers further down the chain than you have.  You want to fill me in?”

Dave said evenly, “No.  Do you want to get into a pissing contest?”

The Director thought for a second.  He was an even tempered man.  He also had been briefed on the activities of Dave and Brenda.  The only piece he could not get any information on is how they came to be back on the scene.  Nobody had a clue. One day they were in town, unannounced. The Director’s voice softened, “No, I’m not looking to create a flap just for the sake of my being in control.  But, just the fact that you would show up, ever, is reason for question.  Okay, so Presidential access means someone was able to get you away from any bureaucratic entanglements.  Let me ask you this, if I call the Richard Goodman, the National Security Advisor right now, and ask about you what will Goodman say?”

Dave waited for a few seconds before replying “Dave and Brenda who?”

The director settled into his chair.  He leaned back and sat in the semi-reclined position with his hands pressed together at the fingertips without saying anything. 

The director finally straightened up and placed his hands palm-flat on the desk blotter. “This is not good. Okay.  I guess all I can say is that if you encounter any closed doors I’ll open them.” 

The Director stood.  Dave pressed his hand on Brenda’s elbow signaling her to stand.  The Director said, “Things have changed since you were last here.  I want you to know that, from what I’ve been able to gather, you were hung out to dry.  I wasn’t involved and if I’d been involved I never would have gone along with any of it.  If you encounter any interference, or anyone trying to influence you in a way you think is inappropriate, let me know.  You obviously enjoy the highest level of trust from someone on top of the chain of command.  Call on me if you need something done in my shop.”

“We will,” Dave said as they turned to leave the room.

It was lunch time, and Dave and Brenda headed for the cafeteria.  Tables were mostly filled with pairs of men playing chess while absentmindedly chewing a sandwich, or knots of women chatting over their salads.  There were only the odd male-female groupings, and they were all in business attire.

Dave and Brenda took their food to the patio.  They ate silently for a moment before Brenda spoke. “I told Hank Phillips we’d have something to report today.  I’ll need to call him soon.”

“Set up something for around seven at EOB.  We should be out of here in time to get in town and meet him.”

A gray-haired black man approached the table, “Dave! Brenda! How the hell are you?  What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?”

The voice belonged to Corey Smith PhD, EED, computer and cryptology expert.

 “Corey!  How nice to hear your voice!  I would have thought you would’ve been put to pasture by now!” Brenda said, with a tease in her voice.

“Young lady, I hope you aren’t implying I’m over the hill.  I can still run rings around any of these young people.”

Dave laughed, “I’ll bet you can.  Pull up a chair, Corey.  How is Beth?”

“Oh, she’s doing all right.  She had a heart attack last year. Otherwise she is getting along OK.  How about you folks?  What brings you to the no-such-agency café?”

“Well, we were just on our way to Orlando and we were hungry, we saw the sign and stopped.”  Dave said.

Corey laughed. 

Brenda said, “At the risk of offending you, Corey, we had in mind visiting Mitch Canfield.”

With mock indignity Corey  replied, “What?  This old nigger ain’t good enough for you?  You gotta go with whitey, don’t you?  Well, I got really embarrassing news for you yuppies.  Mitch don’t work here anymore. Mitch smoked himself into the grave.  Came down with some virulent strain of cancer and was gone in a month.  So who you gonna call?  Ghostbusters?”

Brenda paused, then just for effect,  “Oh dear, Dave.  Whatever are we going to do?  Mitch was our only hope and now, Corey here says he’s, (sob) he’s gone.”  Brenda buried her head in a fist and pretended to sob.

Dave gave Brenda a reassuring series of pats on her forearm, “Now, now.  Don’t fret about it.  I guess we’ll just have to go back empty-handed.  But, maybe there might be someone else around who can help.  Maybe this kindly looking old negro fellow knows of someone in town who took Mitch’s place.”

 “God.  I come by for a hello and I get a melodrama,”  Corey said. “You really looking for some crunchin’?”

Dave said, “Yes, we really do need the best.  If you aren’t in the middle of something that can’t be interrupted, can you help Brenda?”

 “I would be delighted.  I’ll fetch some lunch and be right back.”

After Corey was inside the building Dave said, “You know, I hadn’t thought Corey would still be here.  I’m sorry to hear about Mitch, but I always liked Corey’s approach to problems.  This is going to be the best we can hope for.”

Corey held doctorates in philosophy, mathematics and computer theory.  His intuition about life and  curiosity about the people on the “other side” of the problems he was given helped him keep an open mind.  A bridge master and poker player, Corey was a tough negotiator who knew when to push and when to yield.  Away from the office he doted on his grandchildren and occasionally gave a sermon on Sunday morning.  Corey came to the government as a result of a diversity recruiting effort, joined as a research assistant and quickly rose through the ranks.  His title was Assistant Director, but he performed no administrative duties.  A former director that tried a power play to “knock Corey down a peg or two” ended up not being able to gain access to the building for two weeks.  Corey was the man Brenda wanted to have working for her.

Following lunch Brenda went with Corey.  Dave headed to the intercepts section to try to extend the continuity of the information he had.

Corey seated Brenda and went around his desk to retrieve a pad and pen. “I have a feeling this is going to smoke the computers for a few days.  You wouldn’t be here for anything mundane in any case and you certainly wouldn’t be looking for theoretical help if you hadn’t run out of clues. “Where we at?”

Brenda outlined the situation briefly, leaving out any reference to how it was she was lured back into service.  Corey took sparse notes.  Following the brief, Corey asked for pertinent facts and  then anomalies they had uncovered.  Last he asked for rumors, hearsay and gossip.

“What do you think the underlying sources might be?”  Corey asked.

“Here are my top candidates: deceptive intelligence, cover for someone’s slip, sabotage, political trick.”

“You don’t think this could represent a kernel of actual intelligence?”

“No. The material I was given originally was a forgery. Another wrinkle: the pass-on was tampered with.  But my bias is that situation may just be a coincidence and not tied to the originator’s designs.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I think someone noticed some detail along the way, got suspicious or worried, and took action to make sure the next person would realize there was a skunk around. I mean, I can see a low level analyst getting this, doesn’t have enough horsepower to raise a stink, he or she adds a little spice that is more obvious, hoping someone gets curious.

“Perhaps more importantly is the fact the intercepts aren’t part of a continuing story.  They just popped up, stood alone and then stopped. That and the fact the alleged voice belongs to a dead man.  He reportedly died two months before the first intercept, although our intelligence has not reported his death, even to this date.”

Corey conceded the point. “Yes, well I’ll let you in on a little secret.  Frequently we make sure deaths do not get into the knowledge base specifically for this situation.  I have to say, that for someone who has been out of the business for so long you have obviously not lost your abilities or influence. The country lost a great asset when they chased you out.”

Corey looked over his notes. “Okay, got a favorite scheme?”

 “Yes I do, but it wasn’t the favorite when I got up this morning: domestic political sabotage.”

“Okay.  I’ll set it up.  I have a new protocol.  I can input the parameters and the evaluation points in just a few minutes.  It used to take days.  I have a new assistant that came up with the method.  It took the old man to come up with an implementation, however.”  Corey laughed at himself.

At the intercepts section Dave found an empty workstation and settled in.  He was there for about 15 minutes when there was a tap on the cubicle wall behind him.  The section supervisor, Christy Wells, broke his concentration.  “Hey stranger!  Frazier says to offer any help you might need.  Anything or anyone I can get you?”

Dave considered the offer, “Yeah, thanks.  Gary Allison, if you can spare him?”

 “I’ll see if he is available. Got a second choice if Gary isn’t available?”

“No.  Anyone else I would have to train.”

Christy started to protest, but just nodded.  “I’ve a question.  Would you sailors ever consider working with a soldier? Or an airman?  I know better than to ask if you would work with a non-service person.”

Dave shrugged. “There used to be this gal, Alicia.  Oh, that’s right!  I forgot! She lost her clearance!”

Christy gave an exasperated look and left without further comment.

Dave went back to his displays.  After a few minutes Gary showed up.  “Wow!”  Gary said in mock amazement. “You got her-royal-important-ness running errands for you.  I’m im-fucking-pressed!”

“She tried to foist someone else on me.  Any buzz?”

“Not to my ears.”

“Okay.  Remember that stuff I was looking at last week?  Well, what I want to find out is if there are any other signatures from the same source; ever.”

Gary nodded.  He squeezed Dave away from the keyboard and tapped in a few instructions. “That will get the search started and send the results to my desk.  Anything else?”

“I know I have to find a money trail eventually.  At the moment I don’t even know who or how much.”

Gary thought for a moment. “How about this.  Take a guess at what you think the caper might be.  How much do you think it would cost to put it into action?  Give me a floor and I’ll run it.  Based on what I’ve seen so far, this ain’t a cheapy.  If something’s going to go ‘boom’ at the end I think we’re looking at a half mil.  That cuts out a lot of chaff.”

Dave nodded,  “Include domestic to foreign.  Half mil sounds like a reasonable start.  Cap at one point five.  No sense getting top clutter.  Go back 18 months.”

Dave made a few clicks on his computer screen until Corey’s telephone number displayed. He picked up his phone, punched in the extension and waited a few rings.  “Corey? Dave. Can you change parameters on the fly?  …Oh! All right!  I have Gary Allison running some financials for me.  I will just have him send the output to you.  You will know what they are for. …Right.  …Thanks Corey.”

Gary squeezed Dave aside once more and tapped in some commands.  It took him nearly five minutes to get everything entered.  “There we go.  I will call Corey when the run is finished.  Anything else?”

“No.  I will just have to wait until Corey comes up with some mug shots.”

“All right.  Call if you need anything else.”

After Gary left Dave made a few more computer searches.  He kept drawing blanks.  He finally decided to give it up.  He called up the latest briefing list and interagency alert list.  Nothing about his project or about Muhammad.  He logged out of the station and went in search of Brenda.

Corey had set Brenda in a cubicle in his section.  “Honey, I’m home,” Dave announced.

Brenda finished tapping at the keyboard and waited for a response before acknowledging Dave’s presence.  “What’s the story?”

“Gary Allison is running down a few ideas.  Everything’s in automatic.  Suddenly I’m bushed.  I want to leave.  How about you?”

“I have a meeting set for seven.  Corey let me play with his toy.  It’s neat.  There are some interesting matches and probabilities in some very interesting places.  I can quit for now, myself.”  Brenda logged out of the computer.

They left without any fanfare.  In the car Dave filled Brenda in on the searches Gary was implementing and that he had checked the briefing list for interesting news.

Brenda said, “I think you are on the right trail, as far as the money goes.  I think I have run down who the mystery lady is.”

Dave was concentrating on traffic and couldn’t connect what Brenda was referring to. “Run that by again.  Which mystery lady?”

“The gal that provided the CDs.  Do you realize there are a disproportionate number of men who can access this material?”  Brenda did not wait for an answer. “So when all you are looking for is women the number of choices is suddenly manageable.  When we stop for dinner you can check out the pictures and particulars.  I have a favorite, based on the verbal descriptions.  I will be interested to see how it matches if you have a pick.”

They drove to a restaurant two blocks away from the EOB.  Their relatively early arrival and nearly empty dining room didn’t stop the Maitre d’ from being stuffy with Dave.  After all, Dave, dressed in slacks and shirt with a light jacket, was only a step or two better dressed than a street person, relative to the majority of the clientele.  Brenda was dressed well in an office-formal suit, but she was obviously blind and the presence of handicapped folks generally didn’t make for a “comfortable dining experience.”   The blue-tinged carnation on the maitre-de’s lapel sparked Dave’s memory and he realized they had been to this restaurant several years earlier  with the same cool reception.   “You have been here several years, if my memory serves me.  Is that correct?” Dave asked.

“Yes.  I have been here since 1988.” The Maitre d’ replied with an a look of skepticism crossing his face.

Dave nodded.  “I want you to think back about ten years ago.  It was in the winter.  The weather was bad.  This place was nearly empty that evening.  Do you remember an evening like that?”

“It happens every year, one evening or two.  I don’t know that I would remember the evening you are talking about.”

Dave closed the conversational comfort zone. “You said you had a dress code, and that I was inappropriately dressed.”

The maitre d’ held his hands out in a helpless gesture.

“You ever been shut down by the health department? Ever have your taxes audited? Ever had the evening interrupted while the police run drug sniffing dogs through your establishment? ” Dave whispered, his face an inch or two from the Maitre-d. “How would you like all of your credit card charges for tonight to disappear?  Now, what part of warm welcome, excellent service and perfectly prepared food are you reluctant to offer my wife and me?”

They had time for a leisurely dinner. Following the entrée Dave asked the waiter to delay dessert for a while.  The restaurant had filled and there were people waiting for tables.  The waiter, looking unhappy with the request, sniffed a bit, but forced a smile, “Certainly sir. Just signal when you are ready for dessert.”

Brenda set her attaché case in her lap and pulled out a sheaf of papers.  She fingered them for a minute and then gave several sheets to Dave.  “Those should be photos. Based on the rough description we had, do you think any of those gals could be our mystery lady?”

Dave looked at them.  “There may be three or four, to tell you the truth.  The thing I hate about female operatives is they don’t hesitate a second to change their hair color or slip on a wig or a pair of ornamental glasses. Sure, men can do a mustache or a beard, but they are less likely to.

“But, just to keep you happy I will pick five and nine.  Maybe I like five a bit better.”

“You don’t like six?”

“No.  The description was “mousey”.  Six is not mousey.  She has prominent, high cheekbones.  She looks very good in this ID photo.  I doubt there is anything she could do to make herself unattractive.  No sailor would ever be drunk enough to confuse this girl for mousey.”

“All right, all right.  You don’t have to go on and on.  I had five as my number two, but I didn’t pick nine.”

“Why not?”

“She is an Italian from Brooklyn.  I’m willing to bet your farm she has an unmistakable accent.  No mention of an accent.”

“Lets see if we can run this lineup past Folger.”

“While we are summoning people I want to talk with Dan Kelly and Fred Painter.” 

After dinner they walked to the EOB.  Once again Hank Phillips was the liaison.

“Please accept the President’s apologies.  He wants to speak with you directly.  He should be here within the hour.”

The trio sat.  Dave started a conversation with Hank as if they were long time buddies. “You have anything to do with social arrangements at the Whitehouse?”

Hank was wary. “No.  That is far removed from my duties , not to mention interest. There are specialists  for those things.  What’s up?”

“The beanery up the street.  The Sheik Café. They don’t like enlisted men.”

Hank made a face. “They don’t like officers, either. Pissed you off, huh?”

“Yeah. I can’t do any independent operations while we are working for the President.  Thought there might be something subtle you could do from your office.”

Hank scratched his chin. “I’ll see if they are on a recommended list.  Folger’s niece works in that section.  She can help out.”

Brenda, Dave and Hank chatted about the farm as they waited.  The door opened, the President entered and he excused Hank Phillips.  When they were alone the President extended his hand to Dave and greeted him.  Brenda extended her hand and the President took it. 

The President spoke first. “Half my cabinet is rattled because you folks are roaming around and they don’t know why.  I hate having to keep them out of the loop. What do you have?”

Brenda spoke, “The material we were given is fraudulent.  We have the technicalities for you.  For the time being I would recommend that it not be given to anyone else, or even kept for future reference.  All of the data can be reconstructed, if need be.  The bottom line is the original recording was a paste up.  Furthermore the man supposedly having the conversation was dead a month before the transmission. I would not base any conclusion on that conversation’s direct content.  However, that does not eliminate the possibility the transmission had some purpose. ”

“All right. The next question is why and who.”

Dave said, “That is also our concern, so we are investigating that. We have two friends working on those questions.  Unfortunately there are any number of possible motives.”

The President waited for Dave to fill in the details.  When none came the President asked, “Got any favorites?”

“Not really.  I haven’t put forward any speculation because I don’t want to have the analysts fitting data scatter into a pattern.”

“All right.  Are you getting everything you need?  Any interference? Anything I can help with?”

“Everything is going well. The suits are discovering we’re working on their turf.  None of them are happy, but then again, I don’t blame them.  But, no one has done anything to get in our way.”

“Thank you for what you are doing.”  The President said.

Dave interrupted, “There is one more thing, Mr. President. The fact that Mullah Hudhayfah is dead is not public knowledge. There may be as few as six people in the United States who know this and half of them are in this room.  If anyone mentions his name in the context of possibly being a player, make note of who is speaking or writing and get the word to us immediately.”

The President slowly shook his head. “Do you think this situation is internal?”

“I don’t want to say that.  There’s nothing I have right now that indicates that, or any other scenario.  I just think that detail may end up being a key point.”

There was a light tap on the door.  The President said, “I must go. I have an appointment and they are expecting me to show up following my dinner, so I don’t want to raise any suspicions.”

Dave and Brenda drove home.  They were both tired. The day had been long and eventful.  Dave took a minute to call Jack Folger.

“Good to catch you, Admiral.  Are you available for a quick get together tomorrow?  ..Great! Can you come out to the house?  …Good.  Anytime after nine.  …Good. See you tomorrow.  Thanks for taking the call.”

Tuesday Morning[cap15] 

Brenda spent the morning searching for chatter about Muhammad.  There wasn’t any.  She then turned her attention to finding out what she could about Muhammad’s trustee, Geoffrey Taylor.

Just after nine-thirty the door bell rang.  The housekeeper admitted Jack Folger and called Dave.

Dave was in a congenial mood that morning, “Admiral, good to see you.  Can I have Doris get you some coffee?”

“Thank you, no.  Before we get to why you called, I just want to say that I appreciate the fact that your life has been turned upside down temporarily.  I think you can understand now why this couldn’t be just anyone.”

Dave shrugged, still thinking the situation was overblown to a small extent, “Given the situation I understand why you felt that way.  That doesn’t mean I’m happy, however. We’ll get through it.”

“You making any progress?”

Dave said, “You really don’t want any more of this.”

Jack was still for a moment then nodded. 

Dave took out the sheaf of photos and handed them to Jack. He thumbed through the entire stack, then riffed a few and pulled out one. “We have a fire-control solution, captain.”

Dave nodded, placed the photo back in the stack and put the group back in the envelope.

 “Goddamn, you’re good,” Jack said.

Dave said, “It’s the digital age. In the old days someone could go to a paper file and as long as they didn’t leave the file room there would never be record they looked at it.  Now, with everything on computers, the computer records every person who accesses a particular bit of information.  It took a little more than that, but once we got to the source data the field narrowed considerably.”

Dave opened the door and then followed Jack outside.  Jack said, “You want to come to work for my group when you’re done here?”

“No!”  Dave said in drawn-out fashion, expressing his displeasure.  “I didn’t want to do this.  I was happy a month ago and I’ll be happy again when this is over.  Anyway, this is the only way to do business; unlimited access and I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Jack went around to the driver’s side of his car. “Good luck.”

“Same to you, Admiral. Come out and visit if you do any hunting.  Ten point bucks feed in my back yard.”

Dave went into Brenda’s work area.  “That was Jack.  Number five.”

Brenda beamed, “Not bad for a blind person, is it.”

Dave wouldn’t let her ego get too large, “With all of the information you had it was a no-brainer. Anyway, five was your second choice. Remember?”

“All right, kick a crip when she’s down if that’s what makes you happy.  While you were wasting time with Jack, I ran down the offices of Geoffrey Taylor, Dan Kelly and Fred Painter.   I got to thinking about the situation and called Corey and asked him to add Kevin Haroldson and Paul Novatny to his parameter list.”

Dave looked at the list. “I want to get into Muhammad’s safe house today.  Do you feel comfortable getting up with our Miss Number-Five while I track down Taylor and go house hunting?”

“That sounds like a plan to me. I could possibly pick up Kelly and Painter, too.”

Dave dropped Brenda off at CIA headquarters, and then drove to the Pentagon.  Dave called Geoffrey Taylor on an internal line and asked Geoffrey to meet him in the courtyard.  Dave was sitting at a table with a cup of coffee when Geoffrey Taylor arrived.

“Dave?  I’m Geoffrey Taylor.  I used to hear your name from time to time, but don’t recall ever meeting before.  You’re not on any lists.  I see your badge, though.  What’s up?”

“Can you leave right now without attracting too much attention?”

“Sure.  I logged out when I left my desk.”

“Muhammad left you a present.”

“Fahd?”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay! I’m with you!”

Thee house was an unpretentious structure, a neat townhouse in an older part of town.  The key let them in.

Geoffrey said,  “So what happened to Moe?”

Dave said, “Got me by the balls. He’s my wife’s friend.  He met her last week and said to get up with you. She thinks there may be something here we may like to see.”

They split up and started looking for indications of something out of the ordinary. 

Geoffrey was in the basement.  After several minutes he went up to the second floor where Dave was searching.  He signaled for Dave to follow him.

They went to the back wall of the basement.  A woodworking bench was set up with all of the tools a home craftsman would have. A shelving unit suspended from the ceiling held varnish and paint.  Although there were a variety of cans, there weren’t any paint drips on any of them.

Geoffrey Taylor took two quart cans and tossed them, one at a time to Dave.  Dave compared the weights. They appeared to be the same. “Nice,” was all Dave had to say.

They unloaded the shelves and then easily moved the unit. Dave and Geoffrey instinctively knew they were on the right track.

With the shelf unit on the floor they examined the wall.  Nothing.  The wall appeared the same from one side to the other.  An unfinished concrete wall with the floor joists exposed above; just your basic, unfinished basement.

Dave looked around.  No ladders, no stools.  He looked back at the shelf unit.  It was way over built for holding a few quarts of paint.

He stepped up on the shelves until he could see the sill plate and the wall studs.  There were three electrical cables disappearing up the wall.  He studied them for a minute.  Geoffrey asked him if he saw anything and Dave answered he wasn’t sure.

But the words had no sooner left his lips than he saw the clue he needed. The printing on one of the wires had an ‘o’ filled in with the same color ink.  Dave yanked on it and felt a catch release. A piece of adjacent heating duct swung down.

Geoffrey whistled softly. “Would you look at that! What a damned stash!”

Dave stepped down from the makeshift ladder and surveyed the material.  There was close to a hundred compact discs, several small containers that probably held microfilm and a dozen expandable folders full of paper.  Only one folder had any markings, a drawing of a sprint car wing.

Dave took it under his arm.  Geoffrey started to protest, but then stopped.  After a moment he said, “I better get a recovery team in here.  If I can have that stuff, when you are done with it, I would appreciate it.” 

Dave nodded as Geoffrey made a call on his cell phone.  After the call Geoffrey said, “If you want to leave I can wait for the van.  They shouldn’t be all that long.”

The doorbell rang.  Dave and Geoffrey went to the front door.  There was a policeman and a lady standing outside.  Dave said, “Shit!  A nosy neighbor called the cops.  You got a badge or any kind of ID? All I have is my access card.”

“Yeah, I can take care of it.”  Geoffrey opened the door. “Good afternoon, Officer.  Any problem?”

“Mrs. Jennings, here, said there was suspicious activity.  Could you please step out and identify yourselves.”

“Certainly,” said Geoffrey. He pulled an identification wallet from his pocket as he repositioned himself so the lady’s view was obstructed. Very quietly he said, “We’re here on official business.  I would appreciate it if we could just tell the lady here that we’re here for an appraisal.  The owner has relocated and we are getting ready to sell the property. There is going to be a van here in a few minutes that will remove a few articles, also.”

The policeman nodded. “What do I report?” 

“Just make it something routine and believable.”

The policeman turned to the neighbor, Dave and Geoffrey gave friendly smiles as he explained. “The owner has moved out, Mrs. Jennings.  These guys are here to get the house ready for sale.  There will be a van around shortly, also. Probably a lot more coming and going in the next few weeks.”

“I just wanted to be sure there weren’t  any shenanigans going on, that’s all.  We have a good neighborhood watch here.” Mrs. Jennings said, her voice reflected a mix of defensiveness and skepticism. .

“No need to apologize, ma’am,” said Dave in a pleasant tone, “we’re glad to know someone is looking out for the property.  That’s a good selling point, you know.” 

Geoffrey quickly agreed. “That’s right.  Thank you for your concern.  You’ll probably be seeing us or our associates around during the next week or so.  We may have to bring in a carpenter.”

Mrs. Jennings still had a skeptical look on her face as she and the policeman turned and left.  Dave waited for the policeman to get to his car, then said, “It’s a nice day out here, but I need to see if Muhammad left me any joy.  Thanks for the help.”

“I have a feeling it is you who I will owe the thanks to.  Moe has been tossing me crumbs for several years.  This may be the whole loaf.  Where does he fit in with your work?”

 “There is scandal brewing at the top of the chart at my old shop,” Dave said. “Muhammad was like a vacuum cleaner. He sucked up dirt everywhere.”

Dave got in the car and called back to Geoffrey that he would see him in the office later on. 

Back at the house Dave opened the folder.  There were several compact discs, two rolls of microfilm and twenty or thirty sheets of paper.  He briefly looked over the paper.  It was all in Arabic. He went to his computer and started scanning the documents:  Brenda could work with them when she returned. 

At the CIA building Brenda called Susan Ramsey.  “Yes, I’m back in the building.  Do you know Dan Kelly and Fred Painter?  ..Great.  Could you see if they are in their offices and have one of them meet me in the cafeteria? … Either one. …No, not both, whichever one says yes first.  Thanks, Sue.”

Brenda went through the cafeteria line, bought a small sweet roll and a cup of coffee.  The cashier carried her tray to a table on the patio.  She had taken a couple of bites from the sweet roll when a voice said, “Brenda, it’s Fred Painter.”

Brenda held out her hand and returned the greeting. Fred continued, “When Sue said Brenda Olsen wanted to meet with me I couldn’t believe what she was saying.  The scuttlebutt has been that you told off the suits so bad that they would never let you back in if you asked.”

Brenda smiled. “You know how this town is, Fred.  Everything is temporary.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m still surprised to see you, though.  Delighted, to be sure, but still surprised.  What can I possibly do for you?”

“How come you are working Libya?”

Fred paused for a second or two. “Geez lady. You come all the way from Idaho to ask that?”

“South Dakota,” Brenda corrected.

 “Oh sure, like there’s a difference!  What can I tell you?”

 “I know the box score. Now give me the color commentary.”

 “Well, the story line is that somebody over in State had these protégées that needed some experience with a little more exposure than they were getting in southeast Asia.  So they moved me out and Paul Novatny  in.  Did the same thing to Dan Kelley; replaced him with Haroldson.  Kevin Haroldson. …But I guess you already know that, too.”

Brenda said, “Yes, I know about Dan.  I hope to talk to him later on.”

“It won’t be soon. He’s in-country at the moment.”

“Okay, so what can you tell me about what’s really happening?”

“These guys are losers. They wouldn’t recognize a communication if it was a billboard.  They have booted several significant opportunities.  The other guys are having to take up the slack.  There’s a hole in the activity reports for about a month when these guys first started.  However, last week my boss said I would probably be going back soon,  as soon as they can get those guys moved out.”

“Do you think they’re compromised?”

Fred laughed, “These guys are zeroes! No, I don’t think they’re doing anything. They don’t have enough on the ball to instigate anything. Don’t have enough on the ball to do a straight job, let alone something creative! They’re so incompetent I don’t know how they ever were hired for anything anywhere.”

“So who is their patron?”

“Some ambassador;  I can’t remember right off hand.  It’ll come to me in a minute.  Anything that I can help with?”

Brenda contemplated the offer.  “Perhaps, but I’ll have to get back to you.  Tell me, what were you looking at right before they moved you? Anything fresh?”

“There’s always something fresh.  Mostly fresh manure. There was something last summer that was kind of strange. Right before they moved me out. This new string started.  It was in the clear and was a recruiting drive for some operatives.  The only thing was that it claimed to be from Saudi, but the context was all wrong.  I tried following it after I left but got blocked out.”

“Got any markers or dates.  This may tie in with my interest.”

“July 25 was the first. Saudi source seventeen.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think it’s a scam.”

Brenda didn’t reply.  Fred spoke.  “It wasn’t an ambassador.  Suit in State.  Deputy Undersecretary.  Oh what’s that guy’s name?  If it comes to me I’ll let you know.  Christ!  What’s his name?”

Brenda let Fred sit in silence and think before asking,. “Speaking of the State Department, do you know if anyone over there might be working in parallel on your old turf.”

“Oh sure.  There is so much overlap it’s a shame.  Everyone is guarding their little secrets like if someone else gets wind of what they were doing they’ll not get a gold star. The ego in all of this makes a joke out of most of our efforts.”

“Anyone any good?  Anyone you trust?  Work with? Are dating?”

Fred broke into laughter, “Brenda, you always can cut to the bone without warning.  No, I don’t date anyone in the office or even in the business.  My latest interest is an engineer at the NRC.  Sharp gal and drop dead gorgeous.  She might be the one that gets me to walk down the aisle, although she hasn’t asked yet.”

“Fred, you’re a pig.  It’s my duty as a sister to call her and tell her who you really are.”

“She calls me that all of the time.  You won’t be telling her anything.”

“I think you’re bluffing just to keep me from calling.”

“Go ahead, call.” Fred paused for a split second then blurted,   “Davies!  Howard Davies, that’s the guy.  Hold over from the last administration. Deputy Undersecretary for Southeast Asia.  That’s the guy who pulled the strings.”

Brenda nodded. She decided not to press her question about any State Department contacts.  Brenda rekindled the conversation about Fred’s girlfriend.  After a few minutes Fred asked Brenda if she needed anything else.  “A ride over to Dulles,” was the answer.

As the van pulled up to the State Department Building Brenda’s cell phone chirped.  After she said hello the voice in the ear piece said, “Brenda, I just thought you might like to know that some feathers are starting to be ruffled. Look for doors starting to close.”

“OK.  Thanks. I’m in a van on the way to another meeting.  Do we need to talk more?”

“No. Just a heads up for you. You know how certain people can get when they are not in control.”

“I know.  Thanks.  Bye now.”

As the driver assisted Brenda out of the van she thought about the significance of ruffled feathers; they had to be getting too close to someone.  Once inside she used a lobby telephone and punched in a four digit number.

“Hello, is this Andrea Hutchins? …Andrea, my name is Brenda Olsen.  We haven’t met before, but I need a few minutes of your time. Could we meet in the lobby?  Your desk would be fine, but I really would prefer someplace a bit more out of the way.  …Thank you.  I’ll be in the lobby.  Look for the woman with the white cane.  …That’s right, white cane.  Thank you.”

Before long a young woman approached.  “Brenda?  I’m Andrea.”

Brenda held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you Andrea. Can we go for a walk around the block?”

“Sure.  How do we do this?  I mean, do you want me to guide you or something?”

Brenda smiled, “Make a crook with an elbow. I will take it and follow you.”
“I’ve never guided a blind person before.  Pardon my ignorance.”

“It isn’t a problem.”

They walked a considerable distance before Brenda broke the silence. “Andrea, did you pass certain information to a retired admiral late last year?”

Andrea tensed.

“Yes. I did.  Excuse me if this sounds mean, but who the hell are you?”

Brenda stopped.  She released Andrea’s arm and dug in her purse for a few seconds.  She withdrew her identification wallet.  “This is who I am.  I’m a contractor.  Let’s go over to the park where we can sit and chat.”

Andrea handed the wallet back to Brenda .  They crossed the street and after a short walk found an empty park bench.

Andrea said, “How’d you find me? Which agency are you working for?”

Brenda replied, “All of that’s inconsequential.  I can tell you this much, you are not the focus of this inquiry.  You do not have to worry that your career is in jeopardy or anything like that.  No one will ever see a report stating I talked with you or even met with you.  What I need to know is why you saw the material you gave to Folger and why you suspected it was bogus.”

“Damn,” Andrea said under her breath. She thought she had her tracks completely covered, yet here she was, being interrogated,  by a blind woman, no less. She couldn’t even conceive of a blind woman being employed for such a task.  Then a tiny light went on. Slowly she spoke as her thoughts were coming together, “A bunch of us gals were having a bull session a year or so back.  It was soon after I finished my training. We were talking about the glass ceiling and other women’s issues.  One of the gals said there used to be this blind woman analyst who was famous for voice recognitions.  Then she told the suits to pack it one day and left town.  Is that you?  You’re kind of a legend.”

“That might be me.  There might be another woman who fits the description.”

“No, I doubt that.  Well, now I feel a lot better.  You know how it goes.  Here I’m a relatively new analyst, a female to boot.  All of the old timers think I was just brought in for diversity or as eye candy.  I get a lot of snide comments from the guys.  But, my work is good and they’re slowly starting to come around to accepting me.

“Most of what I do is broad overviews.  I take digests and look for story lines that are deviating from previous occurrences, people reported to be in two places at once, you know.  So, out of the blue last summer I start getting recruiting messages from an unknown player; supposedly in Saudi Arabia.  Just for the heck of it I got the original message and compared it to the transcript and I found some discrepancies.  A few days later another message comes through, same thing:  discrepancies.

“Well, all of this is really beyond my scope, so I go to my boss and ask him what to do.  He says this will be a good opportunity to expand my experience and he recommended I go across the river and meet with a guy at the Saudi Desk, Fred something or other.  I could look it up if you want me to.  Anyway, Fred doesn’t live at the Saudi Desk anymore.  I get up with this other guy, Kevin Haroldson.  To be perfectly honest he seemed a little young to me to have the desk, but that’s who was there.

“A few days went by and I called to ask if he had anything to offer.  He said he was swamped.  He said he consulted with his people and they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.  And then he added, kind of as a CYA, that if they could get to it they would give it a full evaluation, but it didn’t seem to warrant any extraordinary attention.

“That wasn’t a satisfying reply. I started spending some overtime looking into the situation, but I was firewalled before I could get very far.  I did get far enough that I was convinced there was something not right.  What I couldn’t figure out was why it wasn’t right. It was kind of like having a ghost in your cubicle.  You can’t convince anyone else it is there.

“I gathered up everything I could and passed it on to Admiral Folger.  That’s about it.”  In a friendly tone Andrea added,  “So, who the hell are you and why are you here?”

“I’m the answer to your plea for help.  I’m here because they’re paying me a boat-load of money.  If anyone asks I’m investigating potential problems at the upper levels of the State Department or anything else you might want to make up.  Did you groom your computer after you copied all of that material?  It temporarily goes on the hard drive during the copying process.”

“Yes.  I did the standard disc wipe.  Then I used a little utility I got in college and crashed it.  An IT tech replaced my hard drive then physically destroyed the old one, per procedure.”

“I’m glad to hear someone has some security sense.  I’ll be perfectly honest with you.  I have no idea what this is about yet.  There are some internal and domestic scenarios that may be the case, as well as foreign sources.  If it is domestic you may get a visit from someone else and perhaps some heat.  Don’t even hint that you copied anything or passed anything on.  If they say they know you did they are lying.  I’m the only person who knows.  Be prepared to cover if anyone shows any interest.  Don’t change your story, in any case.  You had a concern, you chased it as far as you could, you are still unhappy about the anomalies, but you have moved on. Got it? You did the right thing, in any case.

“You seem to be real sharp about this work,” Brenda said. “Tell me what you are not going to do and maybe I can skip the preaching.”

Andrea replied, “I’m not going to try to find out who you are, who you work for or make any inquiries.  I’m not going to mention our meeting to anyone, nor deny it if I’m asked.  I’m not going to do anymore digging into the original material.”

“I’m glad you know the drill.  Thank you very much for your time and candid responses.”

“Wait!  Aren’t you going to ask what I think the source is?” Andrea asked

 “Only if you start the sentence with ‘based on this fact’ or ‘this could only come from source A’.”

Andrea thought for several minutes.

Brenda broke the silence.  “We’re working as many possible angles as we can.  We’re purposely not trying to see if the data fits one scenario versus another. If the President ends up dropping a bomb on someone because of this he will not be able to fight off the critics if anyone finds out we were pursuing a particular agenda.  I’ll listen to facts.  Then I’ll verify them.”

Andrea slowly offered, “There is a back channel situation report stating eight followers of Mullah Hudhayfah were killed in a hut in Saudi Arabia by a rocket fired from a drone.  It piqued my interest.  I usually ignore the source coding, but this one jumped out at me.  The source was not from Saudi.  It was from in this building.  I double checked with a friend at DIA.  He said there weren’t any air ops on the week, not just the day, but the week, in question. The southern deployment base was on a maintenance stand down and the northern base had a sand storm in progress.  I couldn’t find out who belonged to the source code.”

Brenda nodded. “I’ll add that to the mix.”

Andrea contemplated the situation, “I’m relieved someone is taking this seriously.  It seems as if it’s been forever since I accosted Admiral Folger.  I just knew he would be the key.”

Brenda said, “I’m curious how you chose Admiral Folger with such a high degree of confidence.”

“I have an uncle who was a cold war sub sailor.  He is the one who encouraged me to study and pursue a career in government service.  I’m diabetic, so I couldn’t go into the Navy.  When I discovered the tie between Folger and the President it became a no-brainer.  He has direct access to the President and also direct access to a fairly broad spectrum of reliable resources and, if my uncle is any indication, resources that have a lot of talent and connections.”

Andrea squinched her eyes.  “I’m willing to bet there is only one degree of separation between you and the President.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you have direct access to him.”

Brenda said, “Do you have any vacation on the books?”

“Five weeks.”

 “ If anyone asks about anything even remotely connected to our meeting or about the information: leave town.  At least three weeks.  Does your uncle have a daughter with a credit card?”

“That is an awfully convoluted way to ask if I have a cousin.  I do have a cousin, I suppose she has a credit card, although it may be maxed out.  We aren’t super close.”

“Your cousin isn’t the  key. Use cash to get to your uncle.  Give him a brief explanation.  He will take care of it, I’m very certain of that.  It’s the quickest way to disappear.”

“They’re all down in Yorktown, so it is just a tank of gas away.  I’ll take your advice.”

“Don’t call them. Just show up.”

Brenda was surprised when Dave was at the house. “I got a heads up from Sue.  She said feathers are ruffled.”

 “I have a ton of stuff here from Muhammad,” Dave said.  Is there anything you need here for awhile?”

 “No.  At this stage I think we can do everything from home.  Corey is going to be the key from now on.”

“Good.  I’ll get a plane and we’ll head home.”

The flight landed in Watertown in light snow. After they landed their pilot commented, “I sure as hell am glad you didn’t call an hour later.  There is a hell of a snow storm heading this way.  I’m getting a splash of fuel and going down to KC.  You aren’t looking to leave again in the next few days are you?”

“Not again for at least a week, if then,” Dave said.

“You know, this is a popular little place.  I heard Cleveland Center bringing on another flight shortly before we left their area.  They may have a rough time getting in.”

Wednesday Morning[cap16] 

Dave trudged through the snow drifts to retrieve the material stored in the storm shelter and surveyed the general scene before he went back into the house.  In contrast to the drifts on the property, the gravel road was nearly bare, with alternating bands of gravel and wind-blown snow.  There was only one small area that looked snow covered for about 100 feet; a dip that was about five feet below the rest of the grade.  The county road crew normally would not reach there until noon. 

Dave spent the early morning scanning more of the material Muhammad left them.  Brenda started reviewing the scans as soon as they were available.  She did not spend a lot of time on any one document, although there were tantalizing surprises on every page. But nothing seemed to help out the immediate need and she fought the urge to follow other stories, and she spent no time on the material that was in English.

Around 10:30 Brenda said, “I think I hear a car. Sounds like it might be stuck.”

Dave peered out the window.  A clean, new sedan was half-way into the dip in the road, buried nearly up to the windows in snow.  There were two occupants.  The passenger was trying to get his door open, but it would only move an inch or two.  The driver kept gunning the engine, first forward, then reverse, but the car failed to move. 

Dave got his phone and called his cousin. “Jerry.  This is Dave.  …Yeah, I’m calling you first ’cause I think there is something strange about the vehicle stuck out here on the road. …Right.  It’s a new sedan and it’s clean.  …Right.  Well, can you call the road crew; get someone on the scene to determine who they are and, you know, why they just happened to be out here?  …Well, I don’t want to put ideas in your head, but it seems logical to me they might be on drugs.  …Oh yeah.  Meth. Crystal meth.  Gotta be.  No other reason somebody would be out here today.  …Yup, just like that situation down in Omaha with those kids.  …No, they’re stuck real good.  Oh! The passenger is crawling out his window now.  He isn’t heading this way, he’s going to the front of the car to push.  …OK, thanks.  Hey, no big hurry on this.  No need for anyone to crash a vehicle.”

“Who do you think it might be?” Brenda asked.

“I don’t know, although it certainly isn’t anyone from around here.  I do think it strange they haven’t come to the house for assistance.  The passenger didn’t come prepared for bad weather.  His jacket is light weight and he’s not wearing any kind of cap or hat.”

The driver crawled out of the car and helped push on the front of the car but could do little more than rock it back and forth.  They finally gave up.  There was a discussion. The passenger reached inside his jacket and retrieved a cell phone, pushed a few buttons, then held it to his ear.  After a few seconds he moved the phone so he could see the display.   Agitated, his cursing was blown away with the snow.  He threw the cell phone into the ditch.  The two men started arguing.

The driver pointed to the house and they started walking, but each step took them into deeper snow.  After a half dozen steps they returned to the car, crawled back through the windows and raised them.

Nearly a half hour passed before a county truck with an enormous snow plow appeared.  The driver waded through the snow to the car and tapped on the driver’s window.  He tapped again.  After getting no response, he tried opening the door, it was locked.

Making his way through the deep snow back to the truck he called on his radio,  then headed back to the car, carrying a five-foot pry bar.  He broke the rear window on the driver’s side, reached through the hole and unlocked the driver’s door.   The door wouldn’t open.  He reached through the back glass and got the front window down.

A sheriff’s department vehicle pulled up next to the plow and the Deputy gave a short blast on the siren to alert the truck driver.  The truck driver and the deputy yelled back and forth for a moment before the Deputy exited the vehicle, pulling on a parka and heavy mittens.

From the side of the snow plow truck the Deputy removed two shovels and headed for the stuck vehicle.  After tossing a shovel to the truck driver, the Deputy  shoveled a path to the passenger door.  When the deputy got near the passenger’s door  he methodically took small bites of the packed snow and in a few minutes cleared the door enough to get it open.  He leaned in for nearly a minute, withdrew and then made a call on his portable radio, spoke to the snow plow operator who acknowledged with obvious nodding.

The snow plow operator stopped digging and trudged back to his truck.  In a few minutes he appeared with a length of chain that he and the deputy attached to the car.  After attaching the chain to the truck the plow operator slowly, but effortlessly pulled the car out of the drift. 

When the car was free the deputy and the plow operator removed the chain and then retreated to the warmth of the sheriff’s vehicle. A few minutes passed and a rescue squad appeared.  They hustled to the car, but only spent a few seconds with the occupants.  They went back to the ambulance and waited in the warmth of the cab.

Another sheriff’s department vehicle appeared.  This time it was the sheriff.  He got out of his vehicle and headed for the deputy’s vehicle. As he passed the ambulance he motioned the lead EMT to join him.

            As the Lead EMT was getting into the back seat he said, “Looks like carbon monoxide.  The bodies are still warm.  I think you will find the engine is still warm and the heater works.  They didn’t freeze.”

            “The back of the car was buried to the tail lights when I got here,” the truck driver said.

            “All right, this doesn’t appear too complex. Willie,” the Sheriff said to the truck driver, “make some notes before you leave the scene and send over a report at the end of your shift. Hanson, take a few pictures, measure the snow depth and how far the vehicle was in the drift and have that information for your report. I don’t see a need for the Medical Examiner to come out on this, so just deliver the bodies to the folks in Watertown.”

After the scene was recorded the Sheriff waved the snow plow through. The massive truck seemed unaffected by the deep drift it was moving. The driver made a courtesy pass through Dave’s yard before resuming his normal route. The deputy and rescue squad drove into Dave’s yard, made a U-turn and departed with no notion of stopping.  After they cleared the scene the Sheriff drove into Dave’s yard, parked and waded through a foot of show to the house.

Dave held the door open as the Sheriff hit the steps. His first comment was, “Damn, the wind is really bad today.  The weather report says it will keep up through tomorrow.”

“Come on in, Jerry.  What’s the story?”

Jerry stomped off the snow from his boots and removed his parka.  “Morning, Brenda.  Glad you’re back home safe and sound.  This’s a strange way to start the day.”

“You know where the coffee is, help yourself,” Brenda said.  “It sounds ferocious out there.  How much snow has there been?”

“About two feet, although I think the worst has passed. Just about everyone in the county stayed home today. All of the schools are closed. Thank goodness they closed down the interstate last night.  Twelve is impassable in Minnesota, so there isn’t any traffic coming in from the east. I darn near opted to bring a snowmobile out here, except I was pretty sure most of the roads were blown clear.  That little dip outside is probably the worst piece of road in the county, except for that huge drift over by Hjelmer Moe’s place.  That always gets bad.”

 Jerry retrieved a mug, poured coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table, spreading out the paper work he had and two bags of effects belonging to the victims.

“Well, let’s see.  Car is rented from the Hertz agency in Watertown. They got it this morning.  They stayed at the Comfort Inn last night.  Checked in near midnight.  Looks like they did not have a reservation.  We have here a Mr. Glen Taylor and a Mr. Steve Dawson.”

Jerry opened the plastic bags with the effects and removed the contents of one of the billfolds. “Mr. Dawson was driving.  His license is from Florida.  That might explain his light weight clothing.  Credit cards.  No business cards or pictures.  No lodge or Legion memberships.  Four hundred, thirty-five dollars in cash.”  He continued manipulating the billfold as if looking for another compartment. 

When he was satisfied there wasn’t anything else to see he went into the second bag. He again began his recitation as if he was alone and not particularly addressing anyone else. “Mr. Taylor was the passenger. Georgia driver’s license.  One credit card. Six hundred, eighty five dollars.”  He looked through the remainder of the billfold in silence.

“These don’t seem to be your regular guys, if you know what I mean.  How often would you find two people who don’t have any personal items in their billfolds.  Let’s see if there are any clues in their luggage, although I doubt there will be any help.

Jerry removed all of the items from each suitcase.  The expected toiletries and three changes of clothes was the extent of the contents. “No samples.  No paper.  No tools. They weren’t salesmen.  Not tech reps. Not enough cash here for a drug buy.”  Jerry paused, and then withdrew an automatic pistol from each of the bags. “They had guns, but no badges. Each had two extra clips of ammo.”

Jerry’s radio squawked.  “This is Grant County One here, go ahead.”

“Florida and Georgia both report the driver’s licenses are not valid.  Repeat NOT valid.”

“County One copy.  Send Deputy Carlsen over to the medical examiner to get a set of prints.”

Jerry turned to Dave. “What do you think?  Anything you want from this?”

Dave thought for a moment. He took the credit cards and wrote down the numbers. “Release the story with the caveat names withheld pending next of kin. That’s the truth. I’m sure the radio station and the paper will wonder about that last transmission.  Just handle everything as routine.  Submit the prints to the FBI as you normally might do. If anyone except two grieving widows show up, let me know.”

“So, you’re pretty certain they were headed here, got within a hundred yards and just by luck died of carbon monoxide poisoning?”

“Well, I’m not so arrogant to think that I’m the only person on this road who may have a secret identity. I’m sure the Millers, Johansons and Nelsons could also be expecting someone to come in on a charter jet unannounced.  Or, maybe they are expecting these guys.  I would certainly check that out.  See if these guys were friends of theirs.  They could be cattle buyers or equipment salesmen. I mean, you gotta ask them anyway, right?”

“What jet?”

“I think you will find a charter jet at Watertown brought these guys in last night. Make a phone call.  Let me get the number.”  Dave left the table for a minute then returned with a phone and the phone book.  He handed the phone to Jerry and then thumbed through the book.  After a minute he found a number. “Here we are. Call Watertown Air Service first.  They are the most likely FBO for jets.  Ask if any out-of-town jets are stuck there or waiting for passengers to return.  Get the tail number.”

Jerry called, identified himself and asked if there were any jets that arrived after ten the previous evening.  “Okay.  Two?  Either one there?  …One left immediately and the other’s still there.  What’s the tail number?  …Okay let me read that back.  N199G5 was there and left, NJ0101K is on the ground.  …Okay, good.  What’s its status?  I mean, is he weathered in or waiting for passengers?  ….Uh huh, uh huh.  …Okay. Is the pilot there?  …No?  …Do you know where he is staying?  …Thanks.  …No, thanks, I will have someone run him down.  Thanks again.  …No, no problem with him as far as I know, just trying to find a couple of guys.  Thanks.  Good bye.”

Jerry turned off the phone and looked at Dave.  “Here’s the tail number.  The pilot is still in town although I don’t know exactly where.  No de-icing available last night and he didn’t want to risk it.  What do you want to do.”

“Let’s see if we can get some more information.”  Dave went into the guest bedroom-cum-office and sat in front of a computer.  He tapped in a few words, clicked on a few menu choices, then typed in the tail number in a search engine.  A few seconds passed and the screen changed.

“He came out of Virginia last night, direct to Watertown.”  Dave tapped in a few more commands.  “The plane has a corporate owner.  I think I’ll put someone else on this.”  Dave tapped in commands for several minutes.  “It may take some time to come up with anything meaningful on this search.  I doubt the pilot knows anything beyond an order to deliver somebody to South Dakota.  It might be nice to find out who can authorize such a flight.  Can you follow up on that if he brought our friends out here?  Of course, these guys may have come in by bus.”

“No problem. This would all be part of the routine,” Jerry said.  “I will keep you informed if anything happens.  That is some computer hookup you have there. Anything it can’t come up with?”

“Haven’t found it, yet!”  Dave said with a smile.

“Guess I don’t want to know how you have that kind of access and the sheriff doesn’t.”

“Well, you get dead bodies outside your house, there has to be some perks!”

“Yeah. This breaks up the regular storm-related calls.”

Jerry and Dave went back into the kitchen.  Jerry finished his coffee along with a sweet roll, then bundled up and returned to the storm.

After Jerry left, Dave said to Brenda, “One of the guys threw his cell phone away in frustration.  The other guy didn’t have one, at least it wasn’t in his effects.  I’m going to see if I can find it. I don’t think it will be covered over this soon.”

Dave put on a snowsuit and large mittens, went to the shop and a few minutes later he came out wearing a pair of snowshoes.  He trundled off to the road side and carefully looked around.  The wind was bitter cold and after 5 minutes he was thinking about giving up when he saw a small depression in the snow. He bent over and retrieved the cell phone, gently picking it up by the tip of the antenna. 

Back in the house he shed the snowsuit  and then examined the phone.  It was flashing “roaming” and showed only one bar on the signal strength.  He examined the buttons and displays for a minute and then displayed the “recent calls” list, using a ballpoint pen to push the buttons.

“He didn’t call 911.”

Brenda said, “So what?”

“If you were stuck in the middle of Grant County, South Dakota in a storm wouldn’t you call 911?  This guy called some place out of state.  Very suspicious if you ask me.”

“Maybe it’s the Hertz emergency assistance number.”

“I suppose, although it isn’t a toll free area code.”

Dave went to his computer and after getting to the correct screen he entered the telephone number and got a name and a Maryland address.  He saved the information, then looked at the rest of the recent calls and incoming calls.  He consolidated the list, made a few computer commands and sent the list off to get more information.  He then turned the phone off and back on to see its number.  He copied that and sent it off.

Dave went back into the kitchen “Brenda, the phone is assigned to the Creston Corporation.  Same folks who own the jet.  Address of record is Gaithersburg, Maryland.”

 “I won’t be surprised if it turns out to be 200 square feet with a letter box and an answering machine,” Brenda said.

“I have the computers playing with themselves.  I can’t do anymore with this at the moment. …You know, that airplane is a really expensive item for someone.  I think maybe it would make good bait.  I would like to get it locked up or at least delayed for awhile.”

Dave put a call into the Sheriff’s office.  He asked the dispatcher to have Jerry call him on a land line as soon as he could.  He didn’t want to use the radio patch.

“I’m going to see if I can get back to these translations.”  Brenda found her way to her computer, placed the headset over her ears and started tapping on the keyboard.

Dave settled in at his computer and they worked in silence for over an hour.

The phone rang.  It was Jerry.  Dave asked if they could come up with an excuse for keeping the airplane in town for a few days.  The pilot could leave if he wanted, but the plane needed to stay. Jerry said he would work that angle.

During lunch Brenda said that the some of the material Muhammad  furnished discussed suspicious communications meant to implicate Saudi Arabia in action against the United States.  “He has nothing on our intercepts, however.  I find that strange considering the source was supposed to be in-country.  The Saudis have everything covered. When I first talked with him he didn’t indicate that the transcripts were something he was familiar with. If they originated in Saudi then he would have made at least a passing comment that he had seen the material months before.”

 “I really doubt this has anything to do with any activity in Saudi,” Dave said.  “I’m keeping an open mind that this might be an attempt to disguise something from Iran or Syria, maybe even our old friend Usama Bin Laden.  If he could get U.S. sentiment working against the royal family, that would help his efforts.”

Dave took a sip of his drink, “But, those scenarios aren’t high on my list.  Can I change the subject a little?”

“Sure, go ahead. It’s lunch time.”

“I just dug out an internet address from one of the microfilm frames.  I went to it.  It’s a huge stash of photos of all kinds of people.  Guess who is the star attraction?”

“Tell me it’s Frazier.”

“It’s Frazier.  Your deepest desire has been fulfilled.”

A computer beeped, signaling incoming communication.  Dave left the table for a few minutes. When he returned he said, “That was Gary Allison.  Surprise, Creston’s address is an attorney’s office.  The paper runs around in circles and ends up off shore.  The last telephone call was to a throw-away cell phone.”

Dave paused.  “You know, I’m really curious why they didn’t call 911 or Hertz, not that they would have survived, but just to talk with someone.  I guess we will never know. 

“But, as I was saying, the last call was a bust, but two of the others were to Mr. Grant Langston. Mr. Langston lives on an estate near Annapolis.  He was a single term Senator from Ohio.  The synopsis says he is mobbed-up and the financial conduit for the Liberty Party’s problem solvers.

“The credit cards go to Creston from a Canadian bank. U.S. $25,000 limit each.  It is going to be very interesting to find out who shows up for those guys, if anyone.”

Brenda countered, “I think it is going to be more interesting to see if Langston shows up anywhere on Corey’s work.”

Thursday

After noon Jerry showed up at the Olson’s door. “We caught up with the pilots yesterday afternoon. They were at the Comfort Inn, too,” Jerry said as he was pulling off his jacket and boots.  “They brought the two guys in.  The pilot said he didn’t really know them, that as far as he knew it was just another trip for the company.  Neither the pilot or the co-pilot had any kind of a handle on exactly what business their company was in.  They were hired to fly and that is what they did.  They said they had four or five trips a week and carried all kinds of people.  The co-pilot offered they carried a lot of politicians. The pilot wanted to leave last night and was a bit put out by having the plane impounded.

“The M.E. took prints and sent them off to the State and the FBI.  Last I heard there was no results. The M.E. is waiting for the toxicology report before signing the death certificates.  What with the weather it will be late tomorrow before any results are in. The State Police took the samples to Pierre for analysis.” 

 “And you don’t have the report?”  Dave asked. “Would it go to the M.E.?”

Jerry shook his head. “No.  The way it works is the inquiry is filed in the name of my office. The dispatcher relays any fax or computer information to me immediately.”

 “Let me ask you this,” Dave said.  “If you pick up some biker for drugs and run the prints, how long does it take to get a yes or no, usually?”

“Just an hour or so when we have a print card to work off of.  Lifted prints sometimes can take a week.”

“Let me shake a tree,” Dave said as he went to his computer. He made an entry and immediately the screen changed to a plain blue background, then displayed sporadic data.

He turned to Jerry who was standing in silence, “Does your dispatcher do data entries?”

 “Not today.  Phyllis hasn’t been able to get off the farm yet. Claire doesn’t do anything beyond keying in the 911 data, and we had a hard time getting her trained to do that.  During the week Phyllis does most of the office work, plus dispatching, but during the day on weekends I will have to do it myself. You know, we don’t even have third shift people anymore.  All calls go to Watertown and they dispatch.  Saves us a few bucks. We had a hard time getting anyone to take the job after Paul Harman died.”

“You got the routing information on the prints?”

“Yeah,”  Jerry took a small notebook out of his jacket pocket and thumbed through it. “Right here.”

“Let me see what the latest status is,” Dave said as he typed.

An FBI screen appeared and Dave tapped in the identifier.  In a few seconds the screen flashed, “Restricted Access.  See administrator for details.” 

Dave mumbled,  “Restricted?  I don’t think so.”  He changed screens, tapped in a few commands and then re-entered the identifier.  After a few seconds a mug shot and data appeared on the screen. “One of your bodies is Arnold Frederick.”  Dave clicked on an icon and the printer produced the page.  He typed in the other identifier.  After a moment another mug shot and data appeared.  “This one is Richard Weisenthall.”  Dave printed that page. also.

Jerry nodded.  “The last name goes along with what the M.E. told me.  He said this one was probably Jewish, based on not so close observation.”

 “ I would really like to be able to force someone’s hand.  They flew someone out here who is now dead.  Tell us who they are and the purpose of the trip and they can have the plane back,” Dave said.

“I’m way in front of you.”

Dave gave an expectant look,  “How’s that?

Jerry’s radio squawked before he could answer Dave’s question.  The dispatcher gave him a phone number to call.

Dave handed him his phone. “No sense spending county money on this.”

Jerry dialed the number and started talking.  He picked up a pen and as he wrote he tapped Dave. The paper said “FBI”.  “Yes, that’s correct.  I’ve asked the airplane to stay here pending the completion of our investigation.  What’s your interest?  …I see. A request from up above?  …At this time you’ll have to tell your up above that we’re lacking some key pieces of evidence at the moment.  I suspect this was a drug deal of some sort, and until I get an identification of the bodies and the toxicology report everything is just going to have to sit.  …I see.  …Yes sir.  Where am I calling to?  …Washington, eh?  Perhaps you can help speed things up then.  I have a pending identification inquiry on these bodies. Usually they come through in a few hours.  So far it has been nearly 24 hours.  …How’s that?  …You can come out here if you want, but you’ll have to get in line; the DEA is already sending someone.  …No, that was the Sheriff over in Codington County.  That’s where the aircraft is.  The state boys went through the plane last night with a dog.  They don’t want to wreck the aircraft so they are waiting for DEA to arrive and have a mechanic remove some panels.  Look, could I have the spelling on your name?  …And you’re special agent?  …Okay.  Anything else?  …All right.  Hey!  See where my fingerprints are.  Thanks.”

Dave said, “I didn’t know about the drugs.”

“Sheriff Anderson was queasy about holding the plane.  I suggested that maybe a sniff would turn up something.  He called the State boys.  Low and behold, the dog found five places.  That was four more than I thought it would find.”

Dave said, “That guy didn’t ask for the routing identifier.  How’s he going to help?”

“He didn’t ask a lot of questions he should have.  He didn’t offer any help, either.  Normally they offer to help, even when they don’t have any jurisdiction or interest.  They have to be nice to us now, homeland security and all of that.”

 “Let me have his name,” Dave said.  I’ll see where he works and who pulls his strings.”

Dave entered the name into the computer.  The FBI page wouldn’t give up its secrets.  Dave tapped in a few commands and changed pages. He entered the name again.  After a few seconds he said, “The name is bogus.”  Let me check that phone number.”  Dave tapped in the phone number.  Instantly the information appeared. “Well, well, well.  Won’t you look at this.  A throw-away cell phone.”

Jerry chuckled, “It’s almost enjoyable to see something your computer can’t crack!”

Dave shrugged. “Phone calls are cheap. Eventually someone will have to make a personal appearance for the airplane.”

 “You’ve got an I.D. on these guys, but, in any case, until I get it through normal channels they’re still John Does. I just thought I would stop by and keep you up to date.  This isn’t going to escalate any further is it?”

Dave shook his head, “I don’t know.  If in doubt, just act like I’m not part of the equation.”

Jerry nodded as he turned to leave.

Friday Morning[cap17] 

Dave turned on his computer and checked his files for any new additions. There were a dozen large database files and a small text document.  He opened the text document.  It was from Corey.  The database files were the results of the earlier enquiries.  The text document said that Corey was “pursuing more information on the most probable scenario, see database dave 1.”

Dave opened the referenced file.  He read through the file then gave out a low whistle.  He looked at “dave 2” and then quickly opened the remaining files.

“Brenda!” Dave called out. “Corey sent us a nice present.”

When he felt Brenda’s hand on his shoulder, Dave said, “Corey’s work says the highest probability is the material we are looking at comes from Davies. 86 per-cent.  The next likely source is only 21 per-cent probability.  The remaining scenarios quickly drop off below ten per-cent.  Corey says he is seeing what additional material may develop.  Davies received $700,000 a year ago and another $600,000 last fall.  Guess who the source was?”

Brenda instantly said, “Creston or Langston.”

“Langston is Creston. Corey has the entire trail.  And here is an interesting coincidence, shortly before Langston laid the payments on Davies, Davies had contact with Senator Roberts and Senator Roberts had contact with Langston.”

Brenda asked, “So where has the money gone?”

“Nowhere.  It is sitting in a bank in Panama.  Nearly all of it.”

“… and that would leave us…?”

Dave contemplated the question before he finally offered, “I don’t know.  We’ll have to think about this.  This scenario is probably the worst conclusion as far as being able to respond to.  If it had been an actual threat or some foreign effort the path would be a lot easier.”

Brenda could feel Dave nodding to himself and waited for him to continue.   “Let’s get this tied up as tight as we can.  That’s all we were hired to do.  If something obvious comes up we might take a look at it.”

Brenda patted Dave on the shoulder and then left the room without comment.

Late in the morning the Jerry called to report that the DEA had removed three interior panels on the airplane and found a substantial stash of drugs.  The pilot and co-pilot have been arrested on state drug charges. Jerry also said  the FBI still hadn’t forwarded identifications on the dead men and Jerry asked the Drug Enforcement Agents to see if anyone was influencing the progress in a negative way. The Agent was delighted for the opportunity to stick it to the FBI.  Jerry reminded Dave the weather forecast called for blizzard conditions late in the afternoon.

Dave assured Jerry they had emergency provisions if needed and the call ended.

Brenda considered the news, “That’s too bad.  The aircraft owner will know that the plane is written off and now won’t make any efforts to retrieve it.  That action may have been able to be tracked and leveraged.”

 “I think you are right about that.” Dave said. “How are you doing on tying together Corey’s work?”

“So far I haven’t found any holes, and haven’t found any obvious alternatives.  This is extremely tedious.  Let’s take the dog for a walk before the storm hits.”

            They walked a quarter mile down the road to the Nelson farm. Inside they exchanged gossip with the octogenarian farm couple.  “What were those men doing here anyway?”  Mrs. Nelson asked. “The sheriff asked us if we were expecting anyone. Of course, we don’t know anyone the sheriff doesn’t know.  Jerry should realize that.  We haven’t been any further than Sioux Falls for 10 years.  We haven’t even been to the cities since 1990.  Jerry should be aware of that!”

 “I’m sure he is just covering his bases.  I think he asked everyone on our road,” Dave assured her.

Mr. Nelson immediately said, “Oh yes.  He stopped by the others.  It’s his job.  He’s a good sheriff. I always liked him a lot.  I often thought he should have married our Elise.  Honestly, I don’t know why he preferred the Williams girl, she isn’t nearly as pretty as Elise.”

Mrs. Nelson protested the comments, but didn’t get a response from her husband.

Brenda smiled.  She had heard the same refrain for years.   They stayed and chatted for nearly a half hour.  Dave finally said, “There’s another storm coming this afternoon.  Call if there is anything you need.”

The Nelsons assured them they were well prepared.  They had spent nearly 60 years together on the prairie and didn’t expect to see anything they hadn’t already experienced, at least not from the weather.

Brenda and Dave walked back to their house.  It was snowing and the wind was picking up.  As they started walking up their drive, Dave spotted a Ford Taurus on the road cresting the hill a half mile away.  Dave said, “We may have another visitor.  We need to get into the house immediately.” 

Brenda didn’t hesitate and quickened her pace to match Dave’s.  They were barely inside the house when the car entered their drive.  Dave peered through the back door window.  “It has government plates.” He announced to Brenda.

A moment later there was a knock on the door.  Answering, Dave saw a man wearing a blue parka with DEA screen printed on the front. “Mr. Olson?”  The man produced an identification wallet and opened it to display a card and badge. “I’m Mike Daniels, DEA.  May I come in?”

Dave carefully examined the proffered identification, then invited him in. “This is my wife, Brenda.”

Brenda extended her hand without taking a step.  It took a second for Agent Daniels to realize Brenda was blind, but he quickly realized the situation and took the few steps necessary to take her hand.

 “Take off your coat.  What can we do for you?  Would you like some coffee?” Dave said.

Agent Daniels removed his parka and said coffee would be appreciated.  After hanging his parka on a coat hook, Dave signaled for him to sit at the kitchen table.  

Agent Daniels began, “It is my understanding that two men died in an automobile near here on Saturday.”

Brenda replied, “That’s correct.  Just up the road a hundred yards.  They drove into a drift on the road, got stuck and then died of carbon monoxide poisoning before help could arrive.  Do you know who they are?  This morning the news said the Sheriff couldn’t identify the bodies.”

“The last I heard was the identifications were still unknown.  Can you shed any light on why they were here?”

Dave placed three mugs on the table and filled them.  “Brenda heard what she thought was a stuck car.  I looked out and she was correct, as is usually the case.  The occupants tried to get the car unstuck, but gave up.  I saw what was going on and called the sheriff.  They dispatched a plow with a tow chain to pull them out.  By the time the plow arrived, they had died.”

“We went over all of this with the sheriff,” Brenda added.  “What is your interest in this? Did they find drugs in the car?”

“No.  There weren’t any drugs and neither man had any in their possession. The aircraft they flew into Watertown was subsequently sniffed by a state canine and it indicated the presence of drugs.  We found drugs hidden in the plane.  Do you think these guys may have been here to visit you or another neighbor on this road?”

 “No.  As I said, we went over all of this with the sheriff,”  Brenda again replied. “He talked with the other families on the road, also.  Just for your information, we are the youngest people on the road.  The others are farmers who have lived here anywhere from 50 to 65 years.  The only folks who normally come down this road are family and friends, the mail delivery person and the UPS driver.  I can guarantee you that whoever those guys were, they weren’t expected by anyone living on this road.”

Agent Daniels said, “There was a map showing how to get here.  It was in their motel room waste basket.”

Dave excused himself for a moment and went into his computer area.  He returned after a brief absence with a sheet of paper, picked up the telephone and punched in a number.  “Phyllis.  Dave Olson.  Is Jerry there?  …  Is he on an emergency?  …Ask him to come out here at his earliest convenience.  Thanks, Phyllis.  …Brenda is well, thank you.  I will tell her.” 

Dave turned off the phone.  Almost as if Mike Daniels wasn’t in the room Dave announce to Brenda, “Phyllis asked after you and says ‘hello’.”

Dave handed the paper to Agent Daniels, it indicated DEA had no Mike Daniels on its roster. 

Mike Daniels looked closely at the report. He was about to ask how Dave had access to the information, but was pre-empted by Dave. “Do you want to start over?”

Mike Daniels sat silently. Dave sat down across from Mike Daniels and looked him square in the eye. “Here are the facts of life.  I just made a telephone call which establishes I’m alive at this time.  You can’t kill us and get away with it because your car will get stuck in the snow the same way the guys did on Saturday.  The Sheriff will be here within ten minutes.  I can assure you he won’t believe anything you say about being with DEA.  Those are the facts of life today in Grant County, South Dakota.”

Mike Daniels shook his head.  He realized he was unquestionably compromised.  “What tipped you?”

 “All of the DEA agents in this region drive SUVs,”  Dave said. “Your parka has an LL Bean tag.  All of the agents in this region wear Cabellas’ parkas.” 

Brenda broke the ensuing silence, “I’m going back to work.”  She felt her way to the hallway then disappeared behind the wall leaving room to the sounds of the whistling wind and groans from the flexing walls.

The silence was finally disturbed by the sound of the back door opening.  After stomping snow off his boots, Jerry appeared in the kitchen.  “Phyllis said you wanted to see me.  The weather is really getting bad.  The storm wasn’t supposed to close in until late this afternoon.  If this isn’t the storm then we are in for a big blow. What’s up?”

Dave replied, “Come on in.  Take your coat off and pull up a chair.  Do you want coffee?”

“No, thanks.  Who’s your friend?”

“Well, that is what we are trying to establish.  He says he is Mike Daniels, a DEA agent, investigating the week’s activities.  I have established he isn’t.”

Jerry turned to Mike Daniels, “Let’s see your credentials.”

Mike Daniels reluctantly produced them. He appeared confused by the appearance of the sheriff.

Jerry examined the documents and the badge.  Dave handed him the printout from the computer.  Jerry stood up, went beside Mike Daniels, “Stand up, put your hands behind your back.”

Mike Daniels complied.  Jerry got out a pair of handcuffs.  “You are under arrest for impersonating a federal official.” Jerry recited the Miranda warning.  Jerry did a pat down and found a 9 millimeter pistol. He handed it and the clip-on holster to Dave without comment.

Mike Daniels became assertive.  “Sheriff, you are making a big mistake here. My identification is good.  I don’t know how you can believe this guy.”

Jerry rebuffed him, “Save it.  As far as making a big mistake, if you mean that as some type of intimidation technique forget it.  In South Dakota Sheriff is an elected office.  I’m virtually immune to any political pressure, especially from the federal side.  So if you think for a minute you have high powered friends who are going to come to your rescue, you can forget it. Once I file charges your cover is blown and whatever your career is, I imagine it will be over.  Let’s get your parka around you and get out to my vehicle.”

Mike Daniels allowed Jerry to drape the parka around him without further protest, and then walked out into the storm. 

After Jerry had his prisoner secured in the back of his vehicle he returned to the house. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Process him, like you said.  Let me know what your fingerprint request number is so I can get a head start.  I was hoping someone would do something stupid like this.  Better get out of here while you can.”

Jerry turned to leave, “I’ll call you a bit later.”

A half hour after the sheriff left the snow was falling so hard the out buildings were not visible from the house.  Slowly the wind increased and soon the snow was horizontal.  Even though it was only three-thirty in the afternoon the scene was nearly dark.  An hour later there was a slight break and the visibility improved enough to show three and four foot drifts in long waves across the road.  The visitor’s government vehicle was nearly buried out in the yard.

The snow picked up again and continued through the night and well into the following morning.  The Olsons would not have to think about unannounced guests that night.

Around four-thirty Jerry called with the fingerprint request number and the number Mr. Daniels called to contact a lawyer.  “He’s back in the lockup. We just stuck him back there without any questioning, which he seemed to take offense to.”  Jerry laughed.  “I’m pretty much stuck here for the remainder of the storm with Barry Davidson. I think I will give Barry an opportunity to interrogate him, just for the experience.  Not often we get someone like this.  By the way, I ran the plate and vehicle serial off that government car.  It came out of Minneapolis.  That is all I can get at the moment.”

Dave thanked him for the call.  He no sooner had ended the call when the phone rang again. A man’s voice said, “This is the COB. She singled up at 1400 and was underway at 1430. Just wanted to let you folks know she’s underway.”

“Okay.  Thanks.” Dave replied and the line disconnected. 

Dave went into Brenda’s room.  “Just got a cryptic call.  A man said he was the Chief of the Boat and she was underway.”

Brenda said nonchalantly, “That was Andrea.  Someone must have gotten to her.”

“How do you come up with that?”

Brenda related her conversation with Andrea, noting the uncle who was a sub sailor. “That young lady is sharp.  She did all the right things.  Maybe at the end of this she can get a little notice.”

Dave murmured assent.  “I’ll run this fingerprint request.”  He started for his room and then stopped and turned to Brenda.  “I think now may be the time to call in some outside help.”

Brenda asked, “I thought we had all the help we could ever want.  We have Corey and Gary.  What more do you want?”

“Not that kind of help,” Dave replied in a slightly excited tone. “We have people showing up out of the blue with credentials and airplanes.  That guy who was here earlier,  if he is connected to some agency you know there will be an effort to spring him and then he disappears.  Jerry won’t be able to do anything if some dude shows up with a writ.”

Brenda said, “Well from the sound of the storm there won’t be anyone showing up with anything for a day or two.”

 “You are right about that.  But, I think we need to get ahead of this right now if we hope to have a chance of getting any further.  We do have another 5 months worth of time owed to the President.”

 “I think you’re right,”  Brenda said, “Who are you going to ask for?”

“I think this is at the point we need a lawyer.  Someone who can keep the legal walls from being scaled.”

 “Got anyone in mind?”

Dave shook his head and murmured, “No. Not off hand.  I do know a retired FBI agent who can be trusted, but no one beyond that.  I will get a message to Jack.”

Dave went to his room, picked up the cell phone and punched the star.  It rang for several seconds before it was answered, “Yes.”

“I need to talk to your friend immediately.”

“I will tell him”

An hour passed.  The cell phone chirped.  “Hank Phillips here.”

“We are starting to get some interference here.  I need a legal person on the scene immediately. Someone who can keep some people and assets on ice as long as possible.  Don’t send a boy, whatever you do.  A complication is that we are in a middle of a blizzard at the moment.  I expect that soon after it stops snowing there will be someone in town putting heat on the local officials.  I’ll need someone ahead of them.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Bob Morgan.  Sorry.  Robert C. Morgan.  Retired FBI.  I have a number here.  307 555 2040.  If Bob isn’t immediately available get the most trusted person the President can come up with.”

“I will get on that immediately.  Hold the line for the President.”

A few seconds passed.  “Dave, this is Larry.  Your call is timely.  I understand you have been fishing and caught a few.”

“Yes sir, you could put it that way.”

“Do you have a conclusion?”

“I have a conclusion but at the moment I do not have concrete evidence of tying together all of the players.  I know the originator of the material and I know who paid for it.  I cannot prove adequately who is behind the situation, however.”

“How soon do you think this will be tied together?”

“Someone in the middle will have to implicate the source.  At the moment everything is circumstantial.  I wouldn’t present these excuses to a gate attendant at a dirt track, if you get my drift.”

“I understand.  Here is what is happening here. The Secretary of State received a formal request we help locate a missing diplomat. The diplomat was seen with your wife the day he disappeared.”

Dave did not hesitate.  “That would be Muhammad Fahd.  He’s a long time friend of Brenda’s and has also been a reliable source of information.  He said he was bailing out.  He arranged for some excellent information for me and the DIA.  We recovered it a few days after we last saw him.”

The line was quiet for a minute.  “I better see you as soon as you can get here.”

“We are in the middle of a blizzard, it may be a day or two.”

“Whatever delivers your lawyer friend will bring you back.”

“Yes, sir.  That works for me.”

“Good.”

“The other thing is that I need to bring the National Security Advisor on board.  He has been asking some questions and I think he is understandably pissed about being asked questions from the agency heads he can’t answer.”

“Yes sir.  If I may, sir?”

“Certainly.”

“The indications are this is going to end up as a political shit-fling.  Right now we have direct connections to one of the major behind-the-scenes players in the Liberty Party.  I don’t mind telling you that I’m amazed at the resources they have.  I also have no idea if your party is operating in a similar fashion.”

The President was slow to respond, “I understand where you are coming from.  Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“I don’t know, sir.  I need some bait to trap a politician.  If you have anyone on your staff who can come up with something, that would help.”

“I’ll have someone available for you to talk with when you get here. By the way. Hank just said he has your friend on the way.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Again there was a pause.  “Oh! Dave.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Arlene sends her regards to Brenda.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll pass it on.  The same to Arlene from Brenda.”

“Good night, now.  I want to see you the moment you get into town, regardless of the hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone went silent and Dave turned it off from his end.  He looked at Brenda.  “That was the President.  Arlene sends her regards.” 

Dave said no more.  It became apparent to Brenda he wasn’t going to say anything else.  “That’s it?” She said with genuine incredulity. “The President just called to say hello? I don’t think so!”

“Things are starting to cook back there.  We’re to get there as quick as weather allows.”

The land line phone rang.  It was Jerry. “Yeah, Dave.  I got a writ faxed in for Mr. Donald Gleason.  What do you think of that?”

“I’ll have to think about that for a second.  Hold on.  Let me pass this to Brenda, she knows more about these things than I do.  Just hang tight for a minute.”

Dave relayed the message to Brenda.  Brenda signaled she wanted the phone.

“Hey, Jerry.  First off, I don’t know that a fax is a recognized instrument.  Second, have you gotten confirmation from the FBI on this guy’s identity?  …No?  OK, at the very least you can fax back and say that as far as you know there is no one by that name in your facility.  If this guy is any good at all no one else would know what aliases he might be using.  …What’s that?  …Let me ask.  Dave, have you gotten an ID on this guy from the FBI?  …Dave said, ‘No.’  There is one other option.  You can spring him and turn him out into the storm.”  Brenda listened, and then laughed.  “Yeah, you are probably right.  Someone would likely take him in.”

Dave touched her shoulder. “Dave wants you back.  Contact the County Prosecutor or Judge about the fax writ.  I wouldn’t hesitate to wait for the real one, regardless.”  Brenda listened.  Yes, we are fine.  The phones have been ringing off the hook, however.  OK.  Here’s Dave.”

“Jerry, just one thing.  I have called in a friend to help you with these legal questions. He will be here as soon as weather allows.”  Dave listened.  “I have no idea how or when.  Just don’t be surprised if he or we show up at your door.”  Another pause.  “All right. We’re doing well out here, although you can’t tell where is any more.  I can just barely make out the glow from the yard light.  How is the rest of the county?  Yeah, I think most folks are prepared. Call if anything comes up. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Dave went to his computer to check the weather forecast.  The worst was supposed to be over  by midnight with improving, but not clearing conditions until morning.  He checked the highway department websites.  They were predicting impaired travel in their region for up to three days following the storm.  Six and eight foot drifts were already reported in several locations and all road crews had stopped working.

Brenda called to him.  Dave went into her room. “Once again the FBI regular request on our guy is blocked.  But I used our access and got an answer.  Then I ran his name through the agency lists. His name is Mark James.  He works for State. His position is “at large.” A bit of further digging brought out he used to work as an operative for the South East Asia section.  Viet Nam veteran, language specialist for the Army.”

Dave thought over the situation for a minute. “He has to work for someone. It could be as easy as finding out who authorized him getting a vehicle out of the Minneapolis motor pool.”

Dave went back to his desk and sent an e-mail to Corey requesting a rundown on the vehicle authorization.  He sent another e-mail to Corey telling him to add Mark James to the data base.  They were answered almost immediately, with the reminder that Dave was lucky; Corey was just getting ready to leave the office for the day.

Dave sat back in his chair and spent several minutes listening to the house creak and groan in the storm.  He suddenly felt exhausted.  The adrenalin finally stopped flowing and he was drained.

0045 Friday[cap18]  morning.

 The phone was ringing.  It was on Dave’s side of the bed and he knocked it on the floor trying to answer it.  He groped around and retrieved the handset.  “Yeah.”  He listened for a moment.  “Really?  Geezez, that was fast.  What the hell are you doing in Sioux City?  …Oh!  Well I guess that was convenient.  Co-ordinates?  Not off the top of my head.  But if you guys are awake you can get them off the county webpage.  Yeah, just go to grantcountysd.gov  and follow the menu to the county assessors page and enter David H Olson.  Don’t forget the H.  If you just type David you will get a spot on the other side of the county.   …Yes, you can land right in the yard  All the utilities are underground on the property.  There is one light pole.  If you give me a call when you are 15 minutes out I can light a flare.  …They are anticpating when?  …Christ!  It hasn’t let up a bit here.  …Well, they’re flying.  Call me later.  …Yeah, good hearing from you, too.” 

 

0450 Tuesday morning. 

 

The phone rang again.  The voice on the other end said they were about fifteen minutes away. Dave looked out the window before acknowledging.  “It ain’t great here, but I can see the out buildings, which is an improvement.  Oh, by the way.  There is a car under a drift in the yard. I will put the flare as close to it as I can, so don’t land too close to the flare.”

Dave woke Brenda and told her to get dressed and be ready to leave when he came back. 

Dave quickly dressed, snow shoed to the car and lit a flare.  It was just a minute before he heard a helicopter and then saw a bright search light.  The helicopter slowly settled into the yard, creating its own snowstorm as the downwash hit the loose snow.  Dave went over to an opening door and got in.  The helicopter left.

Soon the helicopter was slowly settling in on the intersection of 5^th Avenue and Main Street of Milbank, again creating a miniature snowstorm.  The streets were deserted.  Not having the advantage of snowshoes, Bob struggled through knee high drifts as Dave crossed the lawn to the courthouse with relative ease.

Inside they were greeted by the sheriff, who had obviously just awakened.  “Goddam, Dave, when you say help is on the way, you ain’t shittin’, are you.”

Jerry, this is Bob Morgan.  Bob, this is Jerry. Jerry is the Grant County Sheriff.  Jerry, just to put things in perspective for you, I have known Bob since my Navy days.  Bob, you should know that Jerry is my cousin.  Each of you can completely trust the other.”

The deputy came in.  “We just got a call from Earl Harwood over in Hanover Township.  Thinks his wife is having a heart attack.  Can your helicopter help out?”

Bob said, “Yes, but there isn’t much medical stuff available.”

The deputy offered, “I have the EMT kit in my vehicle.  I can get it.”

Bob said, “Go!  Just tell the guys where you need to be.  They’re National Guard, they’ll do just about anything for anyone.”

The deputy left.  A minute later the helicopter roared away into the night.

Dave, Bob and Jerry moved into the break room and sat down with coffee.  Dave said. “Here’s the situation.  Brenda and I have been working on an assignment.  The assignment has stirred the interest of some people we think would like the enquiry stopped.  So far we have two dead good ol’ boys who came in a civilian jet that luckily turned out to be carrying a load of drugs, also.  I really don’t think the drugs have anything to do with my situation.  The plane is being held by DEA and our State people at Watertown.  The FBI is being slow on processing the prints off the two guys who died in the storm and the fellow we have in the jail.  Jerry got a writ by fax yesterday afternoon asking to release Mr. Donald Gleason, which is not the name matching the identification the suspect is carrying.

“Bob, all I want you to do is make sure the plane and the bodies and this guy don’t leave town until you hear it from me or Hank Phillips.  You know the ropes and agencies involved and all the BS and smoke screens that can be generated.  I know you also know their limits and the authority local folks have.  It’s imperative no one moves from here.  I know the snowstorm will slow down normal travel, but you got here in adverse conditions,  someone else might, too.  If you absolutely feel the need to get involved, limit your inquiries to who is working to get this guy released.”

“Can I assist in identifying this guy or cutting through the firewalls?” Bob asked.

“I would say not.” Dave said.  “As long as Jerry doesn’t know who this guy is through standard methods, there won’t be anyway anyone can spring him.  You can harass him if you want.  Oh, let me ask you, Jerry.  Does Bob need any official blessing from you to represent the county?”

Jerry said, “Hold up your right hand.  Do you swear to uphold the laws of the United States of America and the State of South Dakota in performance of your duties as assistant county attorney for Grant County?  Good.  You are now an Assistant County Attorney.  You should know that I’m an elected official and I’m not obligated to anyone for political considerations.”

 

Bob laughed, “Thanks for the job, Sheriff.  I’m sure we will get along just fine.  Can I interrogate the suspect, since we don’t have much else to do for a few hours.  I don’t know what kind of setup you have.  We better keep Dave out of sight of the suspect.”

“We have an honest to goodness interview room with a one way mirror and three-camera video recorders.”

“That sounds right up to date.”

“We bought it with drug bust money.  We’ve refurbished the whole department with the exception of the lockup facility.  No one is worried about prisoner comfort, in particular.”

Bob laughed. “I’m going to love this already.”

Jerry asked, “He has contacted an attorney, I think.  Can we question him without his attorney being present?”

Bob said, “Did he specifically say he wanted his attorney present?”

“No.  He really hasn’t said anything other than he wanted to make a phone call.”

“Think hard on this. Did he say he was calling an attorney or just making a call?”

“He said he didn’t have anything to say and he wanted to make the call he was entitled to.  Never used the word attorney or lawyer.”

“Get him.”

Jerry escorted the prisoner into the interview room. He was offered some coffee. “What time is it?” was his first question. His second was, “I heard a helicopter.  What is that all about?”

Jerry answered, “Medical emergency. They had to pick up the deputy.  He’s an EMT.”

Bob said, “I’m Assistant County Attorney Morgan.  You have identification saying you are DEA agent Mike Daniels, is that your name?”

“Yes it is.  What the hell am I doing  here?”

“You are here because there is no DEA agent named Mike Daniels.  We checked.”

 

“What’s the story on my lawyer?  They should have been able to get a writ by now.”

Bob turned to Jerry. “How about that Sheriff?   Any writs come in for Mr. Daniels?”

“No.  There was a writ faxed in for a Mr. Gleason, but not for Mr. Daniels.”

Mike Daniels face turned white. He slowly started showing anger, and frustration.  After a moment he regained his composure.  “I need to call my lawyer.”

Bob looked at the sheriff, for effect more than for guidance, and then said, “You had your phone call, Mr. Daniels.”

Bob waited for a minute.  “Why were you at Mr. Olson’s house yesterday?”

There was no answer.  Mike Daniels face became blank. Bob turned to Jerry.  “What do you think?”

Jerry said, “I don’t think we have our run of the mill drunk driver or wife beater here.  I think we have a real professional criminal here.  I think this fellow probably knows more about interviews than you and I put together.  Yes sir.  I think we have a gen-you-wine professional here.  Doesn’t look like any South Dakota Sheriff or Assistant Attorney will be able to crack this guy. What I don’t understand is why he would show up at Olson’s house.”

Mike Daniels blurted “Kiss my fuckin’ ass. He ain’t no more a farmer than I am.  Olson, or what ever his real name is, came up with some piece of paper he showed the sheriff here saying I’m not a DEA agent.  You ought to have him in jail.”

Bob contemplated the allegation.  “Mr. Daniels, maybe this is all just a big mistake. What can we do to help you prove your story is correct?”

“You are damned straight it’s a mistake. Call the Minneapolis DEA office.  They will set you straight.  612 555 7071.”

Bob and Jerry left Mike Daniels sitting in the interview room.  Jerry shrugged.  Bob went to a phone and dialed the number.  “DEA?  Robert Morgan, Assistant County Attorney for Grant County South Dakota here.  …Thank you, Agent Frost.  Actually we are in the middle of a blizzard, although it’s letting up to be just a bad storm, now.  Yeah, I think it’s heading your way.  …Yeah, the reason I’m calling this morning is that there was an accident here and we think one of your agents might have been a victim.  We have three bodies.  It really is a mess.  Two were really mangled and identification was confused.  …Well, there may still be some of it with the vehicles or in the snow.  It may be a few days before we can get back to the scene.  …Yeah.  You got anyone out this way?  We checked with the office in Pierre, all their folks are accounted for.  …Oh yeah, I heard there was a big bust over at Watertown.  …No, that’s the next county west.  …No, I have just picked up a few snatches from the radio.  …Yeah, check your logs or whatever you have to see if anyone came over to help out.  I don’t know how you guys work that.  …Yeah.  …Uh huh. …Nobody is assigned.  …Only one guy out of the office at the moment and he’s in Red Wing. And another in Quantico for training.  Okay, just to make sure, anyone named Donalds or Dennis or something close in your office?  New guy maybe? …No.  Yeah, I guess if you have been there that long you’d know everyone!!  Yeah, I know what you mean there. …Okay.  Well, thanks.  …No, I will call down to Omaha.  …What?  Oh, all we found was a shield in a leather folder, you know, like you guys use with the ID card in the other half.  No, all we found was the badge. We will get it sorted out after the storm quits.  Thanks so much.”

Bob and Jerry went back into the interview room.  “Just talked to the duty agent in Minneapolis.  Nobody there has ever heard of you.”

Mike Daniels slightly grimaced.

Bob made a motion to the sheriff and Jerry handed him the folder with the particulars of the arrest.  “Mr. Daniels, I see you were carrying a firearm.  Was it your intention to kill Mr. Olson for some reason?  By the way, if you say you were going hunting, nothing is in season at the moment and I will turn you over to the game warden, who has absolute authority to confiscate everything in your possession, including the vehicle. “

Mike Daniels gave Bob a sour look, but remained quiet.

Jerry broke the silence.  “I told you he wouldn’t talk.  What do you think?”

“Based on the evidence I think conspiracy to commit homicide is very doable.  The Feds will be here after the storm clears, they can talk with him on the impersonation charge.”

Mike Daniels blurted, “Conspiracy to commit homicide?  Where did that come from?”

“You entered Mr. Olson’s home on the premise of investigating a drug deal.  You had no way of knowing if Mr. Olson was connected or not to any drug deal, because there is nothing that has happened involving Mr. Olson and any drug investigation.”

“That’s where you are wrong!  Two guys came to see Olson. The plane they were on was seized for carrying drugs.”

“That is very interesting.  There is no report anywhere saying two men on a plane carrying drugs were on the way to visit Mr. Olson.  Sheriff?”

“That’s right Mr. Morgan.  I don’t know where he would get that kind of information.  The two dead guys haven’t been tied to the plane.  We don’t even have an identification on them.”

“All right, take him back to his cell.  We’ill have to get a judge over here sometime today to arraign him.  I’ll get the charges written up.”

Jerry went to assist Mike Daniels out of the chair and escort him to the cell.  “What about my attorney?”

Bob said, “What about it?  I’m not responsible for your attorney responding quickly or at all, for that matter.  When your attorney shows up you can discuss those issues with him or her.”

Bob set up a laptop computer on the interview room table and started doing some database inquiries.  “Holy smoke!  This guy must really be connected.  I can’t access anything about him.  He’s really locked down.  Maybe that’s a good thing.  We can use that to our advantage. Somebody wants to keep us ignorant, we can just play dumb.

“Okay, Sheriff.  Can you arrange for a judge and a public defender today?”

“Yeah.  We will have to bring them in on a sled.  I’m sure Judge Hansen will be happy about that.  How soon?”

“There’s no need to get anyone up right now.  Make arrangements around nine or so.  Give people a chance to wake up and get adjusted to the storm.  Speaking of which, you got a cot I can crap out on for a few hours?”

The office was equipped with a room with six bunk beds.  Jerry said, “If you would have come last year all we had were war surplus beds and mattresses.  We upgraded just last fall.  A lot nicer, especially for us older guys.  Those old bunks sagged six different directions. Killed your back just looking at them.”

Bob laughed.  “Wake me up if anything develops.”

0630.  The helicopter returned with the deputy.  Marjorie Harwood was in intensive care in Watertown Regional Hospital. 

Dave got back on the helicopter and returned to the house.  He collected Brenda and the dog and then enlisted the help of one of the pilots to get access to the storm shelter.  They moved cartons of first generation material into the storm shelter.  The pilot was a little aggravated with Dave’s insistence on digging out the locking bar holes, but helped out, nonetheless. Several cartons of second generation material were left in the basement, casually stacked on shelves with seasonal decorations.

The helicopter took them to Sioux City.  An Air Force small jet was on the tarmac.  An Air Force pilot came out of the operations office and walked over to the helicopter. “Mr. Olson?  We are your next ride.” 

The officer noticed Brenda was blind and signaled to the building for help.  An airman came out of the building and assisted Brenda into the plane while Dave and the officer carried baggage and the dog.  “I wasn’t expecting the dog,” exclaimed the officer, “But it won’t be a problem.”

The plane landed three hours later at Washington County Regional Airport in Maryland, and taxied to an open spot next to a helicopter.    Dave, Brenda and the dog were escorted to the helicopter that immediately started up.

A quick trip over the dreary Maryland countryside ended at Camp David.

As the main rotor coasted to a stop the door was opened and a squad of Marines greeted them. Dave and Brenda were escorted inside and  the dog willingly went with a Marine to a kennel.

The President greeted them and escorted them into a conference room.  “Dave, Brenda, this is Jim Baldwin, Attorney General and Larry Hawkins, National Security Adviser.  They don’t know why they’re here and they don’t know why you’re here.  Why don’t you fill them in.  Jim and Larry, This is Dave and Brenda Olson. They have been working for me for a few weeks.”

Dave gave a brief outline of what happened, the course of the investigation and the conclusions they drew.  He did not go into any of the events at the farm.

The Attorney General did not have anything to say, but the National Security Advisor did.  “So, is this the situation that has my directors at CIA, NSA, and the Pentagon scrambling about?  I’ve been getting rumblings from them that the White House is side stepping them.”

The President said, “That’s the case, Larry.  Now, I need you to find out if this is just people with their tit in a wringer or if they are being prodded by outsiders to raise a stink.  At yesterday’s briefing you brought up a concern about activities from Mullah Hudhayfah.  I need to know exactly who transmitted that information to you, who transmitted the information to them, who transmitted the information to them, etcetera,  all the way back to the Mullah.  You can get on that right now.”

Larry Hawkins hesitated, thought better of challenging anything, rose and left the room.

The President turned to Dave and said, “Bring Jim and me up to date on what is happening on the farm.”

Dave recounted the two incidents and the experience they were having with identifying people.

The President said, “Jim, I want to know who authorized blocking identification for the two civilians.  I understand that the second case can be different, but I want to know who assigned this man to visit the Olsons and what he was supposed to find out.  Find out who asked them to do this, all the way back to the source.  Whoever started this or facilitated the situation I want out of office by the end of the day.  If anyone stonewalls you, they are fired and then use coercion.”

The President signaled he was finished with the Attorney General and Jim left without a comment to Dave or Brenda.

Dave and Brenda were alone with the President. “I want to thank you for your work.  There is something else that has arisen.” The President paused before continuing,  “I can’t help but wonder about this deal with Muhammad Fahd. I read the long form report and asked for more information from our guys.  I’m amazed.”

There was a pause.  The President continued, “Care to share anything with me?”

Brenda spoke, “Mr. President, with all due respect, I wonder if it is in your best interest to know some details.  Assuming we had details to share, of course.”

The President chuckled, “I know what you mean. Deniability and ignorance aren’t really my forte.  I’m certain you wouldn’t have anything to do with having Mr. Fahd killed for any reason.  I’m just wondering how much effort we should expend helping the Saudis hunt him down.  If you have an opinion on that I would take it as my direction. Oh!  I have to mention, whether or not either of you are involved, I’m very impressed with the fact this guy just disappeared and so far not one shred of anything has shown up.  Very impressed.  Do you know that we have Fahd on several surveillance cameras in the subway system, coming out of the subway system, and then turning the corner onto a street where there isn’t a single surveillance camera on a building, or in a shop that shows the street?  The only shot of any significance is of several cars coming out of that neighborhood about the same time, but all you can see is the sides.  No license plates, no good shots of passengers.”

Brenda thought for a moment. “As far as I know he is alive.  He left because he was no longer a believer in his cause.  Unfortunately I think he will screw up someday and the Saudis will catch up with him and string him up by his balls.  He did not leave town under duress.  I don’t know what advantage you would gain aiding the Saudis in the search.  You will have to weigh that.”

“In the long term my problem is this.  You are contractors directly to me.  If you are involved, even acting independently, it comes back to me.”

There was silence.  Dave said,  “I made the arrangements.  Do you need to know more?”

“No.  I just need to know who I can trust.”

The President went to the door and signaled.  Two men walked in.  “This is Dennis Harmar, Secretary of State, and Fred Wilcox, Secretary of Defense.  Fred, Dennis, this is Dave and Brenda Olson.  They’ve been working on an assignment for me.  Fred, The Olson’s are responsible for bringing in the Fahd material you mentioned.”

Fred Wilcox turned to Brenda and Dave, “How did you do that?  There is a treasure of stuff in there.  The department heads are going nuts with that material.  It is probably the intelligence coup of the past twenty years!”

The President spoke.  “Dennis, unfortunately the news for you isn’t quite so good.  I know that the circumstances I’m about to discuss are not your doing.  You have to know that there are serious problems in your department and you will have to be prepared for the political firestorm.  I’m including Fred in this discussion because I believe that you will be able to utilize his experience in the weeks ahead.  Dave, give Fred and Dennis a quick rundown, please.”

Dave again recounted the situation.  Toward the end he noticed Dennis Harmar did not look too comfortable.  Fred was nodding his head as if he had heard it all before.

The President spoke.  “Dennis, there is going to be a firestorm in your building this afternoon or tomorrow morning.  Jim Baldwin is identifying the key players.”

Dennis started to protest, but immediately resigned to the situation.  

The President seemed to note the body language, waited for a moment and then proceeded.   “They will not be allowed any access to anything remotely connected with their work.  At the very least I want them all fired, I don’t care if they are career people or appointments.  Then we will prosecute them.”

Dennis appeared shaken.  As experienced as he was in politics and government operations he was shaken.  He had been encouraged to dump Howard Davies by staff advisors early in the administration.  True, the advice was strictly for political considerations, and that was the reason he did not act on the recommendation. 

The President sized up the situation.  “Dennis.  This isn’t about you. You are not on the hook for any of this.  Just get prepared for flack down the road. If you feel you are being usurped or cut out of the effort, don’t.  I made the decision how this was to be handled.  I’m making the assignments.”

Dennis regained his composure.  “All right. I understand.  Since we have the Olsons here, what about the Saudis?”

 “Be congenial,” The President replied. “Tell them we are doing everything we can to assist them.  Don’t assign anyone full time to the effort. Find a new hire somewhere in the department who couldn’t track a diarrheic elephant in a snowstorm and give the task as a low priority.”

Dennis thought for a moment.  He turned to look at Dave.  His face brightened.  “I remember you when you were at NSA. You briefed me on capture-resources for Central Asia right after the Soviet Union broke up.  Jesus Christ!  Didn’t you get fired a few years after that?  How the hell did you end up here?”

The President tensed.  “Is there some problem, Dennis? Something about Mr. Olson I should be aware of?”

 “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”  Dennis immediately replied. “The situation today has me rattled a little bit and I’m afraid I was just babbling.  No, my direct experience with Mr. Olson was very good.  In fact, I think he was the last capture-resource briefing I ever had any confidence in.”

“All right then.  I’m not happy that this turn of events has come about.  I know the next few days are going to be hell.  Just keep the remainder of the department on course.”

That was the cue for the secretaries to leave.  The President signaled and another man came into the room.  “Dave, Brenda, this is Steve Ellis, my Chief of Staff.  Dave, I believe that Steve is the person to tie this situation up.  Dave, give Steve the bottom line.”

“Here is the situation.   A mid level hold-over at State, Howard Davies, cooked some intelligence.  He also has taken one point three million dollars from Grant Langston, which is sitting in a bank in Panama.  We have a thin series of coincidences linking Davies to Senator Roberts.  Unless Davies sings, we won’t be able to get beyond Langston.   We might not be able to get to Langston, either, since there would be questions about how we know about the money and its location that someone may not want to answer in open court.”

Steve thought for several seconds.  “Yes, I can see what you’re up against. First off, has whatever the threat was been contained?”

 “Yes.  That part of it is under control,”  The President replied. “There is some clean up being taken care of, but we have an excellent handle on the activities.”

Steve nodded, “I will have to noodle this out.  Roberts is an old hand and not likely to do anything that could connect him directly to this.  Langston can be squeezed like a ripe pimple any time we need to.  I have volumes on him.  We may have the best luck with Davies.  As I recall he’s a light weight.”

The President said, “It’s extremely important when this breaks to the press that the first impression is a national security issue from our end, not a political vendetta.”

Steve replied as he was turning to leave the room.  “Yes sir.”

Brenda and Dave were once again alone with the President.  “I want to thank both of you for your effort.  My trust was well placed.  Can you be available for any clean up activities?”

Brenda replied, “Yes, Mr. President.  In fact we still have some loose ends that need to be resolved. We were planning on being in the area for several days.”

Dave picked up the thread, “There is one other item, Mr. President.  You have a potential embarrassment with the NSA head, Edward Frazier.”

“How solid is your source?”

“It is very solid.  There is also more than one source.”

“What is the situation?”

“He likes young boys.  Harem is not the right word, I suppose, but he has whatever the equivalent is on a private island in the Philippines.”

“Damn!  How did you get this information?”

“It was part of the package Fahd left us.  There was a separate grouping of material earmarked for Brenda.  I doubt it was duplicated in the material DIA has.”

“I’ll have to see this.”

Dave said, “I have some of it on my laptop.  I also have some of the first generation material in my briefcase, if you want a second opinion.”

“No, no.” The President paused.  “ Perhaps I should, just to follow protocol, but I have come this far trusting you I don’t see any need to stop now.  Let me see two items.”

Dave retrieved his laptop.  While it started the President said,  “Brenda, there is coffee, juice and pastries here.  I forgot to offer, earlier.  My mind was focused on the problem at hand.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. President.  A glass of grapefruit juice would be nice, if you have it.  What I really could use is a bathroom.”

“Certainly, I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.  I know you were rushed in without a chance to even wipe your shoes at the door.”  The President pressed a button on an intercom.

A female Navy Steward appeared in just a few seconds.  “Brenda, this is Petty Officer Cereny.  She will guide you to the facilities.”

Petty Officer Cereny did not hesitate to take Brenda’s arm and lead her out of the room.  Brenda noticed the skill and commented on it.

“Yes, Ma’am.  Part of our training for this assignment includes being sensitive to physical and cultural requirements of the guests.  Thank you for the compliment.”

Dave and the President also took a break.  While at the urinals Dave commented, “I never thought I would end up taking a leak standing next to the President of the United States, especially alone.  Where’s the Secret Service?”

“They get a break while I’m here.  The Marines are the first line of defense, but even the Navy people have a lot of specialized training.  The main thing here is that there are so few people on the site that there isn’t a lot of coverage needed.”

When they returned to the conference room Dave went to his computer and brought up the files he wanted.  The President went to the food table and poured a glass of grapefruit juice for Brenda and set it on the conference table where she was sitting.

“Too full,” Dave instinctively commented.

The President turned to him with a quizzical look.

Just then Brenda and Petty Officer Cereny appeared in the door.  Petty Officer Cereny guided Brenda to her seat.  “Mrs. Olson, there is a glass of grapefruit juice at your place.  Is this for you?”

Brenda said it was.

“Let me get you another one.  This one is filled too full.”

The President said, “Dang!  It’s the only physical thing I have done all day and its wrong?  What good is it to be President?”

Dave understood the President was being sarcastic, but Petty Officer Cereny did not. In a sincere apology, laced with a touch of fear she said, “I apologize, Mr. President.  I had no idea you had served this.”

The President instantly recognized the situation. “No, no, Cereny.  I was just making a little joke.  Mr. Olson had just made the same comment about filling the glass too full before you came in the room. I didn’t know.  How full is it supposed to be?”

Cereny said, “With all due respect, sir, when serving blind people the glass should only be three-quarters full.  This allows for maneuvering the glass to their mouths without spilling.”

The President said, “Thank you, Cereny.  I hadn’t thought of that.  I’m glad you were on the ball.”

Petty Officer Cereny poured another glass, set it front of Brenda and quickly left the room.  As she started to shut the door the President called, “Cereny.”

“Yes, sir?”

“It’s all right.  Really.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”  The door closed.

The President was apologetic, “I didn’t know.  I hope Cereny doesn’t dwell on that.  The stewards we have here are just fantastic.  They always know the right thing to do.  We always receive compliments from visitors, especially foreign visitors.

The President turned his attention to Dave’s computer. “Okay, what have you got on Mr. Frazier.”

Dave first brought up the internet site. Next he showed a video clip.  He was about to run a slide show when the President said he had seen enough.

The President stood silent for a moment.  “Tell me some technical things that will convince me this isn’t a paste up.  Frazier has his detractors, both internally and externally and I’m aware that you and he are not particularly fond of each other.  I need to act immediately, but I also need to know this won’t bite me in the ass.  Frazier has a lot of people on the hill who think he walks on water.”

Dave quickly admitted the website itself would never be the basis of a decision.  He explained the careful analysis he did of all of the video images and the still photos. He explained how he also verified all of the timelines.

The President thought for a long moment, “Is there anyone any better who might look at this and come to a different conclusion?”

“I can give you a few names of the people I go to for help.”

“Give me a name and a first generation item.”

Dave retrieved a video tape and wrote down a name.

The President picked up a telephone and punched in a number.  “Mr. Connor, warm up the helicopter immediately.  Send Sergeant Jefferson in.”

The President retrieved a piece of official note paper and scrawled on it.  He placed the video cartridge and the note in a manila envelope and sealed it. There was a knock on the door and before the echo of the knock died the door opened.  A Marine Sergeant filled the doorway, “Yes sir?”

“Take this over to NSA.  Directly deliver it to this person.  Eyes only.  Tell him you will wait for an answer.  When you get the answer come back and personally tell me the answer.”

The Marine took the package, turned on his heel and left the room.  Less than a minute later the sound of the helicopter leaving was faintly audible in the room. The President picked up the phone and punched a number. “Get me Larry Hawkins.”  A few seconds passed. “Larry, I will be in the White House at 1500.  I want to meet with Edward Frazier.  Alone.  No.  No agenda, just have him there.”

The President set the phone down and turned to Dave and Brenda.  “Pack up your stuff and lets have lunch.”

Lunch was served in the living quarters.  The first lady and her secretary were in the cottage when the trio arrived.  The President introduced the First Lady’s secretary.  “Arlene, remember the Olsons from Daytona?”

The first lady crossed over to Brenda and gave her a hug. “Of course!  How nice to see you again, Brenda!”  She paused for a second, “At the risk of sounding terribly arrogant, petty and catty, I’m assuming you are not here on a social call?”

The President laughed.  “Dear, they aren’t here at all.”

Arlene got serious all of a sudden. “Oh. I understand.  Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but I thought Dave and Brenda were just racing people.”

“We need to leave it at that.  What’s for lunch?”

During lunch the President kept the conversation about racing.

Afterwards Dave, Brenda and the dog were packed into a government vehicle and driven to Fredericksburg airport, where they rented a car.

When they got to the house Doris greeted them.  “I’m so glad to see you.  Last week was so busy here.  The telephone company was out here three times, twice on Monday!”

Very seriously she said, “I almost didn’t get my nap in!”  Then she broke out in laughter, satisfied with her own little joke.

Serious once again, Doris said, “Miss Brenda, it wasn’t like this in the old days.  We didn’t have nobody sneaking around like that. Another thing is, these guys coming around like they’re telephone repair people, they aren’t as good as they used to be either.  I think you need to say something to somebody about that.  These guys were just plain poor.  Anyway, I have pictures of all of them and license plate numbers from their vans.  Listen, here is another thing:  the phone company bought all new vans two years ago after the merger.  This one guy shows up in a four year old van with the old logo on the side.  I mean to tell you, these guys are just getting sloppy!”

Dave laughed.  “I suppose the budget cuts hurt everyone.  Let’s see what you have and I will take care of that first.”

Dave looked at the pictures in the digital camera.  He then went to the basement and checked all of the phone connections and wiring.  Patterns in the dust indicated a hard tap had been placed and removed.  Dave followed the wires and easily found an inductive tap.  He removed it and continued to follow the wires and found another inductive tap well hidden. He removed the second tap.  He continued inspecting all the wires until he was satisfied there were no more.  He was just about ready to return to the main level when he noticed an item sticking out of the flooring above: a spike mike.  He scoured the overhead again and found three more.  He carefully removed them.

            Dave went back to the main floor and showed the items to the housekeeper without comment.  She raised her hand in acknowledgement, left the room and came back with a small cardboard containing foam peanuts.  Dave placed the spike mikes in the box.

“Let’s take the dog for a walk,” he said to Brenda.  The dog was napping, had to be awakened and reluctantly went along for the walk.

As they walked Dave told Brenda what he found.  He also kept a look out for any potential vehicles having surveillance teams.  Dave noticed a minivan with dark tinting on the windows parked on the street behind their house.  He made note of the license plate.  He looked inside the vehicle the best he could,  It was unoccupied, but had some industrial looking containers where the seats should be.  Dave noticed some antennas disguised into the roof rack.

When he returned home he checked the license plate number.  It didn’t belong to anyone in the neighborhood.  He tapped a few commands into his computer.  In a moment he was in the Virginia State Patrol system.  He found the stolen vehicle data base and entered the required data.

He called the local police precinct.  “I want to report a suspicious vehicle.  It doesn’t belong to any of the neighbors, I checked.  It has been parked here for at least three days.  I see it when I walk my dog.”

Dave gave the license number.  About 20 minutes later a black and white cruiser was in the neighborhood.  Another half hour passed and a tow truck towed the vehicle away.

Dave downloaded the housekeeper’s pictures onto his computer.  He called to her, “Doris, what did you do, ask these guys to pose for you?”

“Just about.  I had the camera set on the spice shelf.  When I heard them coming up from the basement I hit the timer button and just stalled them for a few seconds.  Home made cookies from an old mammy will stop just about any white boy for a few seconds.”

“Talk about prejudices!”

“That’s experience, sonny.  Experience!”

“Well, you are sure worth every dime you are getting this trip.”

“Yeah, well,  people’s stereotypes have allowed me to be a success for a long time.  Miss Brenda gave me a big break back in ’77.  At first I was pissed about the prospect of playing the part of housekeeper forever.  It didn’t take long to realize the huge advantage I had.”

“How’s retirement going? You doing all right?”

“Sonny, you’ve got to be kidding.  When the smoke and dust from the MacDonald affair settled there was sixty million bucks sitting in a Bahamian bank account that MacDonald wouldn’t ‘fess up to and the government couldn’t seize because of secrecy laws.  Karl Buxton gave me the number, I flew to Nassua, said I was MacDonald and cleaned out the whole account with no questions asked.  I went down the block to another bank, established three accounts and later on moved everything to Switzerland.”

Dave asked, “How come you’re still around?”

“There was a lot of sniffing around. MacDonald is furious and even though he’s in prison and allegedly broke he has everyone associated with the investigation under close scrutiny.  Everyone who ain’t a nigger, that is.”  Doris laughed again. Then she broke into a little song and dance.  “I’m so black and I’m so dumb.  I can scrub and I can cook.  Wooo!!”

Dave laughed. “You’re right about one thing.  You sure can cook!  Seriously, though.  I mean, because you never really make an issue of such things with me and Brenda, are you ever regretful you didn’t push for a career-path assignment?”

“I was a bit aggravated when I first started out because I saw a few acquaintances moving into the suit positions.  But all of them are dead ended.  They don’t do shit. No, I can honestly say that the field work, although demeaning on the surface, has been very rewarding.  My credentials are impeccable.  There has never been the first inquiry about my bona-fides.   I think I would have liked to work with Doctor Smith, he is the only manager I know who has the brains and the enthusiasm to keep life interesting.”

“Are you talking about Corey?” Dave asked

“That’s DOCTOR Corey to you, white-bread.  Yes, that’s who I’m referring to.  We go way back.  He was my mentor when I first joined the service.  He has been a guiding light for me ever since.”

 “I didn’t know that,” Brenda said. “He’s a great man.  I don’t believe I know anyone more intelligent than Corey.”

Doris agreed, “He is brilliant, there is no getting around that.  He certainly loves the work a lot more than he loves titles.  He could have been the first black director.”

“That could still happen.”

“What are you talking about?  You got something Doris should know.”

“Wait until it’s on the evening news.”

Doris left in a mock huff.

Turning to his computer, Dave started some data searches, and then sat back.

 The lead story on the six-thirty news was the apparent suicide of NSA Director Edward Frazier.  He walked into the lobby of the Dulles Office Building, pulled out a handgun and blew his brains out.   The White House issued a short statement saying that in advance of a thorough investigation they could only express their shock over the incident and condolences to Mr. Frazier’s family.

 “Is that the news you were expecting?  Doris said. “How are you in the loop on that?”

 “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting that story,” Dave said. “I guess the rest of it really doesn’t matter, now.”

Brenda shook her head.  “I can’t say I’m surprised. He would be haunted forever. Someone would leak.”

Doris asked, “What are you two talking about?” 

 “Let’s just leave it at Frazier was outed,” Brenda said.

 “What do you mean, ‘outed’?  Having a gay director would be a plus for this administration.”

 “It wasn’t that he was gay,” Brenda said evenly.

Doris thought about it for a moment. “Oh!  Now I think I get the picture. Huh!  How about that?  I worked for Frazier when he set up an office in the PI.  Closest I came to being a manager.  I ran the domestic staff.  What a rat’s nest that turned into.  Half the staff was spying and half the staff was stealing.  Frazier didn’t care about the stealing.  I can tell you now that there were a lot of maids and porters that were working for us one day that the next day no one ever heard from again.”

The following[cap19]  morning Dave and Brenda were having breakfast and planning their methods of tying up loose ends.  They had slept well following the long stressful day before, and would have slept longer if the dog had not woke them needing to go outside.

The cell phone chirped.  “Dave, this is Jerry.  Nelson’s just called 911.  Your house is fully engulfed in flames. We’re still completely drifted in.  The storm regenerated after you left and only slacked off about four this morning.  There isn’t any way for the fire department to get out to your place, or anyone else except on sleds.  I don’t know what else to say.  I’m sorry.”

Dave sat stunned for several seconds and didn’t respond to Jerry’s enquiries of “Dave? You there, Dave?”

Dave finally responded.  “Yeah, I got it.  Any chance you can get out there and see if there is any indication of any traffic?”

Jerry said, “Yeah. I have a State Trooper here who got trapped.  He’s trained on crime scene investigations and is handy on a sled.  I’ll get back to you.  Do you care about Mr. Daniels?”

“I’ll take what you have.”

“We brought in a public defender and a magistrate by sled late yesterday afternoon.  At first Daniels wasn’t happy with the Public Defender, but I think he realized that he could use that guy as a communication conduit.  So he finally agreed to have the Public Defender represent him and the magistrate arraigned him on conspiracy and impersonation.  He set bail at a million bucks.  A few hours later a call came in from an attorney somewhere asking to speak to a Mr. Gleason.  I told him we did not have a Mr. Gleason.  He asked if we had any prisoners and I told him that my prisoner population was none of his business, per Bob’s advice.

“Bob is running down the attorney.  That’s about all from here.”

“Is Bob around?”

“Are you shittin’ me? We are fucking stuck here, cuz!  Yeah, he’s right here.”

A pause, then Bob was on the line.  “Hey, sorry to hear about your house.”

Dave said, “Thanks.  I don’t know if Jerry has come up with this or not.  The only way to get to my house is by snowmobile or helicopter.  I doubt anyone except the guard would have the inclination or skill to fly in that storm, so that leaves sleds.  Check the storm track and see the closest town that was passable and then see who sold a sled or two yesterday.  That is something that normally wouldn’t be in the inventory of any of our friends.  It’s all I can think of and it will keep you occupied.”

Bob laughed, “Well I’m having a good time here with the sheriff and playing county prosecutor.  I talked with the actual County Attorney.  He’s glad for the help, especially considering he didn’t have to come out in the storm.  The deputy is eager to learn some new techniques, so we will use the sled hunt for training.  Do you know the jail has fourteen different flavors of instant oatmeal and we can stay here for a week and sustain twenty people?”

“No, I don’t think I knew all of that.  I’m not surprised though.  Just about every year we get stuck for at least a day or two.  Anything else?”

“No. I did get a private message from inside saying not to brush against any branches.”

“Yeah.  I met with the AG yesterday.  They’re working from the inside.”

“No shit?  Maybe you can share some of this when we get together.”

“Yeah, maybe.  Talk to you later.  Tell Jerry I appreciate the call, kind of.”  Dave ended the call and turned to Brenda.  “The house is burning.  The storm is still going and they can’t respond.  Nelson’s called it in.”

“Oh, no!  How about the other buildings?”

“Jerry just said the house.  They are sending someone out on a sled to investigate.  I suppose we’ll hear something later on.”

“Well, that puts a wrinkle in our lives I wasn’t expecting.  How much family stuff do you think we lost?”

“There wasn’t that much stuff on the first floor.  There is some in the basement.  Most of the stuff is in the shop.  I guess the pump organ was the most irreplaceable thing.  Your piano. Your guitars.  That Gibson will be real hard to replace.”

Brenda sat in silence, tears rolling out of her eyes.  Dave went over and embraced her.  They hugged for several minutes.  She finally spoke, “I’m sorry honey.  I should have known this might happen.  You were right, we didn’t need this.”

Dave consoled her, “Don’t say it.  If I was that concerned I would have put my foot down. We’ll get over this.”

            Brenda broke the clench. “We could stand here all day crying, but that won’t get us anywhere.”

Dave said.  “I’m going to see if Corey can tie Creston to the fire.”

They went into their separate work areas.  Brenda spent time working on foreign sources. Dave called Corey direct.  Corey was excited to hear from Dave. “Congratulations.  I  don’t know how you did it, but congratulations.”

 “Well, I think you are giving me too much credit,” Dave said. “But thanks for the thought.  Look. My house is burning in the middle of the prairie in the middle of a blizzard when everything is impassable.  Can you see if any Creston activity points that way?  An easy catch may be a snowmobile purchase in western Minnesota.”

 “Your house is burning?  When?” Corey said.

 “Right now, probably,” Dave said.  “Although I have no idea how long it would take to burn to the ground.”

“Dang, Dave.  I’m really sorry to hear that.  Where are you now?”

“I’m in Arlington.”

“Oh.  That’s good, I guess.  Okay.  I will get right on this.  We are getting together a good picture of how Langston has things organized.  He has quite a few lackeys sprinkled throughout the various departments.  There is going to be a blood bath.  I still don’t have a lock on the Senator.”

Dave said, “If we can dismantle his clockworks that might be enough. If he doesn’t have an army, what does it matter if he is a general?”

 “Good point,” Corey conceded.

Dave said, “By the way.  Brenda’s housekeeper insists I call you Doctor Corey.”

Corey was silent for a second and then laughed heartily.  “Tell her I said to remind her nobody likes an servants that don’t know their place.”

“I think I will save that for you to tell her yourself.”

“Have her call me.  You know that I consider her the daughter I never had.  She is a brilliant woman who has endured a lot of shit to serve her country, not the least of which is having to act as your housekeeper.”

“Hey, we’re good to her,” Dave protested in jest.  “She can eat the same things we do.  After we’re finished, of course!”  Corey laughed on the other end. “I will pass on your message.  Talk to you later.”

Dave had been back to his computer for a few minutes when he heard a whoop from Brenda. He went into her room.  “What’s happening here?”

“Moe sent us the mother lode of all mother lodes.  I just figured it out.  The CD in the machine contains the file names and passwords for a huge chunk of the Saudi intelligence service.  Moe’s access has been scratched, of course, but he has hundreds of identifiers access codes and passwords.  Here is a file that lists the code words they have used and will use for quite some time in the future.  I tried it out on a random file.  Worked like a charm.  Got right in.  Nice domestic operation for identifying dissidents.”

 “That’s great.  Why did he give it to you instead of DIA?  So far the only thing that has been useful has been the Frazier material.”

“You didn’t let me finish.  I accessed their main database and did a search on Langston and Roberts.  There is quite a list on each.  Just to keep things in perspective I did a search on each Senator.  The results were spotty, thank goodness.  So I went back to Roberts.  I’m still nailing this down.  It looks like the Saudis have been tracking influence from the Palestinians and Syrians directed to Roberts and two other Senators and a Representative. There is an intercept from last year where Roberts is asking someone named ‘goats’ to assist Davies with whatever he asks for.  This may be the smoking gun we’are looking for.”

“It may all be smoke, too,” Dave cautioned.  “I want to run this by Geoffrey Taylor.”

Dave called Geoffrey.  “Geoffrey. Dave Olson.  Can you come over to the house this morning?  …No.  My house.  …Great.  2710 Pershing Lane in Arlington.  …That’s right.  Just south a bit. …Good.  See you in a bit.”

A few minutes passed and the phone rang.  It was Corey.  “Somebody on Langston’s ticket bought a snowmobile, a trailer and a bunch of clothing in Wilmar, Minnesota at All Seasons Motorsports.  A few Hours later they bought $56 worth of something at Western Lakes Marine in Benson.  Less than an hour after that they bought close to forty gallons of gas at the Amoco station in Benson.  All of this was yesterday afternoon.

“On another account somebody bought something from Woody’s Used Cars to the tune of $8,765.78.

“On another account somebody bought a round trip ticket from Detroit to Minneapolis and rented a car at the airport.  No hotels or meals.  Same account somebody purchased a global positioning navigator at Best Buy in Wayzata, Minnesota.  Basic time line, tickets, Woody’s, Best Buy, Wilmar, Benson.”

 “Don’t go so fast,”  Dave pleaded, “I can only scribble real slowly.”  There was silence for several seconds. “I think I got it all.”  Dave read back the information.  When he was finished he said, “Thank you very much Doctor Corey.”

“That’s Acting Director Doctor Corey, to you sonny!”

“Is that right?  Congratulations!  Think it will stick?”

“I might keep it.  Hawkins is really pissed that he got snookered on this deal you are working on.  He is even more pissed that Fahd gave all that material to you instead of directly to Taylor.  He is pissed about a lot of things and they all go back to politics.  I told him we would have to talk about a few things.  He is eager.”

Dave said, “Doris just came in, you want to talk to her?   Here she is.”

Doris mouthed, “Who is it?”

 

Dave whispered, “Head of NSA.”

Doris took the phone, “Yes, this is Doris Hutchins speaking.”

Doris squealed.  She listened for a few seconds and then burst into laughter.  She listened some more.  “Yes. I will think about that.  It would be a great honor.  Thank you.  Let’s get together at that crab shack after this is over.  …That’s the one.  …All right.  Congratulations again.   Bye.”

Doris squealed in delight. Brenda entered the room, wondering what all the commotion was about.  Doris said, “You tell her.  I’m too excited.”

 “Corey is Acting Director,” Dave announced.

Doris took Brenda and gave her a hug. “Corey says he will want me to come in and work with the analysts on field observations. He says principle analyst pay grade.  That will be nice!  No more scrubbing toilets!”

“That will be great, Doris.  I’m happy for you and for Corey.  I think he will straighten out a few areas that need straightening!” Dave said, sharing her happiness.

“Look, while you ladies are celebrating I have to make a call.  Excuse me, please.”

Doris and Brenda left the room.  Dave called Milbank.  “Let me speak with the Sheriff, please. Dave Olson calling.”  A few seconds passed.  “Yeah, Jerry. Somebody bought a sled in Wilmar yesterday afternoon and possibly a few gas cans and gas in Benson an hour or so later.  It would be a really good place to start.  Really good.  All Seasons Motorsports for the sled.  Western Lakes Marine for the gas cans, or maybe something else.  …Yeah.  Gas at the Amoco station in Benson.  Look, just in case this isn’t on your list, have the folks in Wilmar see if there are surveillance pictures out at All Seasons.  …Yeah, Okay, I didn’t know.  Got the snowfall map?  …Between Ortonville and Benson, huh?   Okay.  I need Bob, next.”  Another pause.  “Bob, need to have somebody in your office in Minneapolis find out about a sale yesterday in the amount of  $8,765.78 at Woody’s Used Cars.  Get a picture of the buyer if one is available.  I’m guessing a used four-wheel drive vehicle with a trailer hitch. …No, I don’t want it.  Pass it on to Jerry.  Thanks.”  Dave listened for a second.  “I heard it on the news last night.  It was a shock to me.  …Yeah, I worked for him right before I quit. …Me?  Not me.  I don’t travel in those circles.  I’m just an enlisted puke, remember.  Nobody with a suit has ever wanted to associate with me.  Well, you are just about the only exception. …Okay.  Thanks for your help.”  Dave paused waiting for Jerry to get back on the line.

“Dave.  Just got the report from the trooper.  The house is still smoldering but it’s burned to the foundation. He says there are sled tracks, footprints and three empty gas cans.  He said there is a shell of a burning car, too.  Guess that might have been our friend Daniels’ ride.  You didn’t have anything parked outside, did you? None of the out buildings are disturbed, for what its worth.”

“Thanks, Jerry,” Dave said.  “I appreciate the report.  Bye.”

Dave went back to checking out Saudi information files.  An hour passed when Geoffrey Taylor arrived.  Doris answered the door and called to Dave.  Geoffrey looked skeptically at Doris.  Dave off handedly commented that she was discreet.  “Oh, really?  Someday I got to figure out how this works.”

Dave took Geoffrey into his room and they spent several hours reviewing material. Geoffrey commented after seeing three documents he requested, “This looks good to me.  I like the way they have the sources in the clear.  I recognized several items that I’m rock solid on.  There is no way anyone would build anything like this as a spoof.”

 “Let’s look at these items, then.”  Dave accessed six items.  After closely reviewing one item, Geoffrey said, “This is straight.  ‘Goats’ works every side of the street.  He shuttles between Turkey and Syria.  Occasionally he is in Cairo and Tangiers. He has no allegiances that anyone can identify.  Nobody seems to care that he works for the other side because he doesn’t really ever sell anybody out.  He just arranges things to happen.  He assassinated a Turk official one day on behalf of the Syrians and the next day assassinated a Syrian official for the Lebanese.”

Geoffrey asked “Do we have any of this anywhere?”

“Not that I have been able to find.  There are some items that fall into a couple of time frames that could match up with this but they are under a special key.”

“Pardon me, but looking at what you have here in your house for God’s sake,  I would imagine you have all of the keys there was to have.  Shit, you have access to stuff I have to get from someone else.”

“I have somebody working on it,” Dave said in a detached way.

“I bet you do.”

“Okay, back to the Senator and the goat,” Dave said, seemingly more in focus.  “Got any ideas how I can use this information?”

“If you can’t original source it in our system I wouldn’t even hint that you have this information. Do you have a handle on what this is all about yet?”

“Politics.  I don’t know how far back all of this goes.  Three years ago a plane carrying a group of Congressmen and their families disappeared over the Mediterranean after visiting Israel and Palestine.  That was Goats.  What isn’t known is that he blew up the wrong plane.  There were two planes, one with mostly Liberty Party representatives from the northeast and the other with mostly Freedom Party representatives from the mid-west.  The hit was supposed to be on the Freedom plane because three of the representatives came from states with Liberty governors.  Kind of a weird way to change the balance in Congress.  As it turned out the balance shifted the other way one more seat for the Freedoms and the Liberties lost several key committee seniority spots.  Moreover, the guy they wanted to hit more than the rest of them stayed behind because his kid had an appendicitis attack and was in the hospital in Tel Aviv.”

Doris tapped on the door.  “Guys, I have some lunch ready for you.  You better take a break, it’s nearly one o’clock.  Geoffrey, I have to let you  know that I don’t keep kosher here.  I have either tuna or roast beef for a sandwich and chicken noodle soup.  It isn’t home made, just Campbell’s.”

 “Roast beef will be fine along with soup.  Thanks,” Geoffrey said.  “And don’t worry about kosher for me.  I would starve to death on this job if I made an issue of it.”

 “How did she know that?” Geoffrey said to Dave.

 “I’m not sure,” Dave said with his hands outspread. “The easy way out is just to pass it off as she knows everything.  But I think she is just very observant, kind of like Sherlock Holmes.”

 “Well, I would like to know what tipped her.  I know I’m not wearing a yellow star that says ‘Jude’ on it.  Am I?”

“Ask her.”

 “It’s your shoes,” Doris explained as they took seats at the table.  “They come from Branstien’s in New York.  Never have yet met a gentile that bought shoes there.  It’s the pattern of the holes in the leather.  Every shoe manufacturer has a different pattern.  Yours are made in Israel and sold in the US at Branstien’s, another outlet in Los Angeles, I can’t think of the name at the moment, and a small store in St. Paul, Minnesota: The Harold Shop.  I don’t figure you go shopping much in the mid-west or California.”

Geoffrey shook his head.   Brenda made small talk with Geoffrey, asking about acquaintances at the Pentagon.

Following lunch Dave and Geoffrey worked until nearly 6 o’clock.  They got to a point where they were both satisfied there was a strong path between the Senator and “Goats”.  Geoffrey left.  Dave collapsed into an easy chair and ottoman in the living room.  Brenda found her way into the room and snuggled up with him.  They sat there in each others arms, silently.

The telephone broke their reverie.   Brenda got up and Dave struggled to his feet.  It was  Jerry.  “Something broke loose today.  Got the identifications on the two guys who got stuck.  Our Mr. Daniels is actually Mr. Mark James.  Nobody has tried to spring him this afternoon under that, or any other name.  Bob notified his public defender.  Wilmar got the information on the purchase at All Seasons.  Good videotape.  While they were viewing it they noticed the guy drank two cans of pop from the machine.  They recovered the cans and are working on prints.  You were right.  He bought a brand new sled, a brand new trailer and a top of the line snowmobile suit , face mask, boots, and gloves.  Didn’t dicker over the price of anything.  The salesman sensed something about the situation so didn’t offer any discounts and the guy didn’t ask for any.  Paid full price for everything. Spent nearly $15,000 bucks.  The card went right through, according to the salesman.  They prepped the sled, hooked up the trailer to a Suburban and loaded the sled on the trailer.  Guy said he was heading north for ice fishing.  The Suburban didn’t have any plates.  It had those dealer signs in place of a plate.  Some lot in Minneapolis was all they recalled.”

Dave sat on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen with a large pad and a pencil, making notes.

“The Benson folks said some guy came in driving a Suburban pulling a sled and bought four five-gallon gas containers from the marine store and later filled the cans, the sled and the Suburban at the Amoco station.  That was right at dark last night.  He spent the night at the Western Lakes Motel.  Paid cash.  Left sometime before dawn.  Couldn’t have driven too far.  They closed Highway 12 at Ortonville.  The sheriff in Benson called back a bit later saying a deputy noticed a suburban pulling a sled heading back toward Wilmar, but the deputy didn’t know at the time there was any interest in it.  He only noticed because it was a brand new model.  It was the same model the guy bought yesterday.

“The trooper followed the tracks from your place back to the bridge over to Ortonville. A road crew was working on the other side, so he didn’t spend any extra time.  He figures the guy had at least an hour and a half head start.  He was traveling pretty fast, and obviously was a skilled rider, according to the trooper.  Here’s Bob.”

There was a pause. “We got a description of the guy who bought the vehicle and it matches the pictures sent over from Wilmar.  He used the same identification in both places. Fingerprints just came in.  One set from the guy who loads the pop machine and another set  from the salesman at the dealership and the third from Jordan Ronald Fairchild.  Mr. Fairchild has numerous entries with local, state and federal law enforcement associated with union activities.  He’s out of Detroit.  There is also prints on the gas cans found at your place, but we don’t have the official word on them. 

“Mr. James turned a whiter shade of pale when we correctly identified him.  He clammed up and is waiting for his public defender to show up.”

“I got an e-mail from a friend who is still with the bureau.  They were all read the riot act yesterday about using the bureau’s resources for political ends. A career department head and three of her staff were fired late in the day. The auditors are crawling all over the place.”

Dave interrupted.  “I got a question for you.  Save me a few minutes chasing it down.  That plane over in Watertown.  What drugs were found?  I assumed it was cocaine, although no one ever said.”

Bob said, “No, I was reading the report just a few minutes ago. It was heroin.  Uncut.  Straight from Afghanistan. The co-pilot said he would tell everything he knows in exchange for immunity.  The DEA people are mulling it over.  I think they feel he doesn’t have anything to contribute.”

“What do you think about talking with him on the basis of being a consultant. Do you think the DEA would go along with that?  I need an eye witness.  The co-pilot may be who I need.”

Bob thought for a moment.  “Yeah.  I can call over there and float the idea.  I have been monitoring the snow plow reports.  I can probably get over to Watertown in the morning if I can ride with a plow crew.  Any magic names to listen for?”

“Roberts and Langston for sure.  Listen.  I have some material here that is starting to confuse me.  I thought I had a handle on what was going on, but now I’m thinking that I’m missing the bigger picture.  The co-pilot may have something good.  This guy Fairchild is messing up my scenario.”

“I can tell you right now this will end up being more about drugs than whatever it is you are chasing.”

Dave was stunned.  “How is that?”

“In Washington everything is about saving your ass.  Roberts and Langston are so mobbed up they are going to put a vowel at the end of their names. Langston is running drugs, using the plane to ferry politicians as a way to avoid a lot of customs scrutiny.  Roberts set it up.  He gets a big share as campaign contributions.  Something happened to trip your trigger.  Now Langston and Roberts are scrambling to distract the investigation away from the drug traffic.”

Dave said, “I have to admit I didn’t think about that as part of the mix.  I was certain all of this was just political.”

“What you are working on may be.  I’m thinking it went sour, someone has a big investment that isn’t paying off.  They see you as cutting into the operation even more, so they have to stop you.”

Dave thought a moment, “Tell me who ‘Goats’ is.”

Bob couldn’t make a connection, “You got anything more than that?”

Dave said, “Look.  I can see where you are on this and I’m not discounting any of it at all.  Talk to your DEA friends or your buddies in the bureau, I don’t care. If you can give me a handle on Goats I will have everything tied up.  This is all starting to make sense, now.  Yes.  I can see how this would work.  Dave fell into silence while he thought through how all of the data he had been screening would fit together.

Bob said into the silent line, “You there, Dave.”

Dave mumbled, “Yeah, thanks for calling.  I will get back to you.  Check on that stuff if you can.”  And he turned off the phone without waiting for a reply.

Dave sat with the cell phone in his hand.  Brenda and Doris knew to leave him alone.  He was not in a trance, but his concentration was so intense sweat formed on his skull. He lifted the phone and punched in Corey’s number.  Corey’s assistant answered.  Corey was gone for the day but the assistant could take care of Dave.  Dave gave the names of the pilots and Jordan Fairchild and the alias of goats. “Find out who got sacked at the FBI and add those names.  Change the filter from terrorism to drugs.  Thank you.”

Dave turned off the phone without saying good-bye.  He was nodding to himself and mumbling, “It all makes sense now.”

Brenda took this as a cue, “Okay.  You obviously have had an epiphany.  Care to share?”

“When I was on the Hammerhead we made a port call in Amsterdam.  As part of the visit we gave some tours to local politicos and military people and did a day trip with a large group of mostly NATO officers, but there were a half dozen civilian types whose station in life wasn’t really clear.  All of the names were recorded and reported, of course. One of the crewmembers had been fingered for drug use.  One of the visitors had been fingered for being a drug dealer.

“On the way home we were diverted to Argentia, Newfoundland.  We anchored out and had a contingent of O.N.I. people on board.  All of the berthing spaces were emptied and thoroughly searched. They opened tanks.  They brought in drug sniffing dogs.  Three different dogs. Sniffed every inch of the boat.  It took a week. They shut down the reactor so they could search the reactor compartment. No drugs.  I was surprised.  I thought for sure someone would have brought home some marijuana from Amsterdam.  Nothing.  All that anyone got out of it was the boat was really clean when we finally left.  One of the dogs got sea sick and puked in the XO’s stateroom.  They made the ONI guys clean it up.

“ They cut us loose.  The Captain was pissed beyond comprehension.  We went home.  A second-class electrician went to the separation barracks the following day and ten days later he delivered seven million dollars worth of diamonds to his brother-in-law.”

“How did you find out?” Doris asked.

“It was a sting.  The electrician hated his brother-in-law.  He was approached by the FBI to carry out the deal.  It all went like clock-work.  The electrician’s wife mentioned her husband was going to be in Amsterdam to her brother and he quickly recognized the opportunity.  The delay for the drug search was an unfortunate coincidence. The point being that everyone was so focused on the obvious drug smuggling scenario they didn’t think about anything else.”

“Where did he have the stones hidden?”

“His cleaning station was the machinery-two aft bilge.  Nobody would want to go there for any reason normally and it was a bitch to get into.  He had the stones in a pouch on a string hanging from a feedwater pump. The only way to see it was if you were in the bilge, on your back looking straight up in the right place. When it came time to inspect that space the O.N.I. guy got claustrophobia when he got halfway into the bilge and left it un-inspected.  He wouldn’t tell the other guys he got scared so someone else could inspect there.”

Doris said, “What does that have to do with this. We know Langston and company are smuggling drugs.  We know Roberts set up Davies and Davies double-crossed Roberts.  Roberts has made no secret he would love for the President to be embarrassed in the terrorism fight.”

“Exactly.  But what if Roberts senses the world is closing in on his little drug scheme.  How do you move the focus away from drugs?  Terrorism!  Now you have to follow this.  The President screws up on the terrorism call.  Roberts beats the drum.  How can the feds work the Roberts drug angle without it appearing to be retribution?”

“The guys who came out on Wednesday took the plane before it could be unloaded. Langston didn’t know.  Langston isn’t in on the drugs.

“Langston is just bumping along thinking he is brokering political favors.  Davies sees me as a threat and has Langston send the goons.  Meanwhile, someone is missing a boatload of heroin.  Roberts sends James because he can’t get a report from the DEA.  James gets caught, Roberts can neither talk to him or spring him so Roberts points the mob to me.  I don’t think Fairchild is one of Langston’s crew, even though he was carrying Langston’s money.

“I might be wrong about Langston.  He may be in on the drugs.  I just don’t think so.”

“What about the opposite scenario?  Why not Langston doing the drugs and Roberts being on the side?” Brenda asked.

“Goats.  Goats holds the keys.  I couldn’t figure out why Roberts was associating with Goats.  Goats is just a dealer.  Drugs, guns, murder.  Any opportunity is a good opportunity. And why not.  Every agency in the world watches his every move, thinking he is selling arms.  Might as well sell some drugs while they are wasting their time looking for guns.  We will know tomorrow.”

Monday morning [cap20] 

Corey called.  “Be at the EOB at 1030.  We’re having a small conference.”

At the EOB Dave and Brenda were escorted to the auditorium. Twenty people were already  there.  Each exit was guarded by two secret service agents.  There were several suits, the remainder were in slacks and ties level.  Corey came in a few minutes after them.  There wasn’t much buzz in the room, considering the number of people.  The small stage was set with three chairs and a podium.  Between the first row of seats and the stage a single microphone stand stood alone. At 1034 the doors opened and someone announced “The President of the United States of America.”  Everyone stood as the President entered.  He was accompanied by Senator Roberts and Langston.  Roberts and Langston joined the President on the stage.

The President spoke.  “Doctor Corey Smith, acting director of NSA will be conducting this meeting. Doctor Smith.”

The President sat and Corey took the stage.  There was no greeting.  “Mr. Holloway, please come up to the microphone.”

Holloway rose from his seat in the front row and went to the microphone. He was dressed in an inexpensive grey suit.

Corey had a handful of 5 x 7 cards and he referred to one before speaking. “Mr. Holloway, are you an employee of the telephone company?”

“No, sir.  I’m not.”

“On March 3rd  of this year did you enter the house at  2710 Pershing Lane in Arlington and identify yourself as an employee of the phone company?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you do inside the house?”

“I installed a hard tap and transmitter on the telephone line.”

“Are you a government employee with authority to do this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What agency do you work for and who requested and authorized you to install the tap.”

“I work for the State Department. The request came from Deputy Director Davies. Authorization was signed by the legal counsel, Mr. Grover.”

“Thank you. That is all for the moment. “Mr. Dawson. Would you please come up to the microphone?”

Dawson rose from his seat in the front row and went to the microphone. He was dressed in a sport jacket and slacks.  His shirt was open at the collar and he wore no tie.

Corey made him stand for nearly a minute as he looked at his cards.  “Mr. Dawson, are you an employee of the telephone company?”

“No, sir.  I’m not.”

“On March 4th  of this year did you enter the house at  2710 Pershing Lane in Arlington and identify yourself as an employee of the phone company?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you do inside the house?”

“I installed an inductive tap and transmitter on the telephone line.”

“Are you a government employee with authority to do this?”

“No, sir.”

“In what capacity did you undertake this activity?”

“I’m a private security consultant.”

“Who contracted you to do this activity?”

“Creston Corporation.”

“Have you done work for Creston Corporation in the past?”

“Yes sir.  Creston is a regular client.  I bill them for about $300,000 worth of services each year.  Sometimes less.”

“You claim you get paid by Creston Corporation.  Who is the person at Creston you deal with?”

“Most of my correspondence with Creston is via memo.  I have actually never been face to face with anyone at  Creston.”

“Do you know who is in charge at Creston?”

“Yes sir.  Mr. Langston.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m a security consultant.  I have to know who I’m working for as well as who I’m investigating.”

“And how did you determine this fact?”

“I followed the money trail through some banks.”

“What is the relationship, if any, between Mr. Langston and Senator Roberts?”

“Senator Roberts communicates with Mr. Langston frequently.”

“How is it you know that?”

“Another client asked me to tap Langston’s phones.”

“What was the concern of that client?”

“That client only wanted to know if Langston ever said anything to anyone about drug smuggling or ever mentioned ‘goats’.”

“Who was the client.”

“Jimmy Verducci.”

“And Mr. Verducci is..?”

“Mr. Verducci is a cappo in the Verducci family.  They’re mobsters.”

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”

“Yes. That is Richard Weisenthall.”

“Please look at  the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”

“Yes. That is Arnold Frederick.”

“Are you associated with these gentlemen?”

“They are subcontractors for me.”

“Do you know where they are now?”

“The last I heard they went to South Dakota”

“Why did they go to South Dakota?”

“Mr. Langston wanted a couple who live there eliminated.”

“What is the status of that effort?”

“Weisenthall and Frederick died in some kind of car accident.  I haven’t been able to get any details”

“The local law enforcement agencies had difficulty identifying the bodies.  The FBI would not release the fingerprint data.  Do you know why?”

“Mr. Langston fixed it with someone in the bureau.  All of my associates are covered.”

“Were these gentlemen on a drug delivery?”

“No.  I don’t get mixed up with drugs.  I doubt they would, either.  Too dangerous.”

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Jordan Fairchild

“No.”

“This man is not one of your subcontractors or otherwise associated with you?”

“Off hand I have no recollection of ever having seen or met him.  He certainly is not associated with me.”

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Mark James.

“No.”

“This man is not one of your subcontractors or otherwise associated with you?”

“Off hand I have no recollection of ever having seen or met him.  He certainly is not associated with me.

Corey stared directly at Dawson, and with a hint of contempt in his voice asked, “Mr. Dawson, you say you do security work for clients, yet you have lost track of two of your operatives in where?  South Dakota?  Is that what you told me?  Are you telling me you had no fall back plan?  Regardless of any past successes, I think you need to find another line of work.”

Dawson did not reply.

“Thank you. That is all for the moment. “Mr. Davies. Would you please come up to the microphone?”

Dawson left the microphone and took a seat in the front row. Davies rose from his seat in the front row and went to the microphone. Davies looked as if he had not slept in two days. His suit was disheveled, his normally neat hair looked as if it had soaked in sweat and dried several times.

Corey poured a glass of water and shuffled his cards for a few seconds.  After taking a drink he resumed his interrogation. “Mr. Davies, are you an employee of the State Department?”

“No. Yesterday I was dismissed as Deputy Director for Asia.”

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Frederick.

“No, that is, I don’t know the person.  I realize the picture was shown earlier, but I have never had any contact with him, as far as I can recall.”

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Weisenthall. 

The answer was the same.

“Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Mark James

“Yes.  That is Mark James.”

“And who is Mark James and what is your association with him?”

“Mark James is a State Department employee. His title is analyst, but he is an operative.  He works in my section and reports directly to me.  I guess I should say worked and reported.”  Davies looked around the room for a stenographer or some other clue his remarks were being recorded.

“Where is he now?”

“I do not have first hand knowledge, but I have been informed he is in the Grant County jail in South Dakota.”

“Why is he in South Dakota?”

“I assigned him to go there and find out what the Olsons were doing.”

“Why would an Assistant Director in the State Department have any concern over the comings and goings of a couple in South Dakota?”

“The Olsons are retired analysts.  They had been contracted by someone to look into something.  I’m not certain what their mission was or their authorities.  I became aware of their activities when they accessed material associated with me.”

“What material was that?”

“It was material concerning terrorist activities in Saudi Arabia and Iraq.”

“That is not your area of responsibility, is it?”

“No.”

“Please explain why this material was of interest to you?”

“I generated it.”

“Why?”

“It was part of an effort to embarrass the President.”

“What happened?”

“There is only so much one can do to cover a bogus effort.  The best analysts will find the tracks if they have the time and tenacity.  I have been aware of that for years.  I thought I had the situation covered by having some key people reassigned.   I wasn’t expecting the Olsons, or anyone with their capabilities, to show up.”

“Were there any financial arrangements made?”

“Yes.  I was paid one point three million dollars.”

“Who paid you?”

“Mr. Langston, through Creston.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“Senator Roberts.  He was desperate to have the President discredited in the middle east.”

“Was Mr. James supposed to eliminate the Olsons?  Was there an understanding to that effect, whether or not it was directly stated?  If he left South Dakota with information and the Olsons alive would that be a successful mission?”

“The understanding was that the Olsons would not continue their enquiries.”

Corey did not attempt to mask his discontent or irritation with the answer.  “Mr. Davies, please to not take me for a fool.  Are you being coy?  Are you being disrespectful of me because I’m black, or are you just another career bureaucrat who has a hard time speaking plain English?  Was Mr. James’ assignment to kill the Olsons?”

“Yes, sir.  That was the assignment.”

Corey took a slow drink of water.  When his passion cooled he continued. “Mr. James was using false identification.  It took an effort beyond the capabilities of the local law enforcement agencies to finally identify him.  He called someone to spring him, but they did not know what alias to use. Who did he call?”

“He called an attorney associated with Langston, Morey Javits.”

“Are you aware resources controlled by Creston Corporation were being used to smuggle drugs into this country?”

“No.  My involvement with Creston has been limited to them being the conduit for the money.”

“Where is the money?”

“In a bank in Panama.”

“Wasn’t the money supposed to be used to recruit terror activities?”

“Yes.”

“How did you convince Senator Roberts you were making progress?”

“I generated some reports indicating the group we were supposedly funding had been taken out in a raid.”

“Just so everyone is clear on this, Roberts asked you to generate some smoke, you jacked him up for 1.3 million, ostensibly to pay terrorists, and you just kept the money.”

“That is correct.”

“Mr. Davies, have you undertaken any other efforts to squelch the investigation into your charade?”

“Yes.  I assigned operatives to follow Olsons when I discovered they were snooping around.”

“How did you determine it was the Olsons?”

“I started asking around.”

“Who specifically told you it was, or probably was the Olsons?”

“Jack Haas.”

“Did these operatives come up with anything?”

“Yes, Mrs. Olson met with a low level State Department employee who had handled the material I generated.”

“Where is this employee now?”

“I don’t know.  She slipped out of town unnoticed.”

“Have you looked for her?”

“Yes.  I set up a search for her.  I was not able to find her.  Technically, she signed out for vacation.  The search and the operatives were cancelled yesterday afternoon.  All of the personnel involved have a clear understanding there is no longer any need or assignment.”

The President stood and approached Corey.  Corey caught the President’s approach from the corner of his eye and cut short his next question.  The President said, “I want it to be perfectly clear to everyone in this room that with regards to the young lady in question, if the slightest hassle, threat, innuendo or could-be mistaken-for-a-slur - joke is directed at her, I will start at the top and get everyone on the way to the bottom and all of their acquaintances.  Mr. Davies, you said you have called off the activities. You had best be praying you don’t have any independent operators going into business for themselves, because if you do you will never get out of prison.  Is there any lack of clarity in what I just said?

“No sir, Mr. President.”

The president looked to the audience and caught Mr. Dawson’s eye.  “Mr. Dawson, is there any doubt in your mind that this message includes you and your associates?”  Dawson replied he understood clearly. The President returned to his seat.  He was agitated and everyone could see it.

 Corey returned to his notes, “If you found her, what would the consequences have been?”

Davies hesitated; he was shaken by the President’s obvious threat, knowing that even though he had given the order to back off that there could be someone on the fringe just getting the order to commence action. “We, uh, I would have fired her, uh, you know,  and messed up her record such that she would not have any credibility in the future.”

            Corey gave him a skeptical look for several seconds, and Davies looked like he was about to collapse from the strain. Corey leaned over the podium and hissed at Davies, “You do not need to find someone to screw up their records!  You only look for someone so you can harm them in some physical way.”

Corey stood back, consulted his cards for several seconds while he let his anger toward Howard Davies subside. “Please look at the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Jordan Fairchild

“No.”

“This man is not one of your operatives or otherwise associated with you?”

“I don’t recall the face.”

“Thank you.” 

Davies looked around for a few seconds.  He was obviously in a degree of panic and anxiety.  He then returned to his seat.  After being seated for a few seconds, he threw up into his lap.

Corey noted the retching taking place and with a look of disgust commanded, “Mr. Quick, would you please step to the microphone?”

Quick rose from his seat in the front row and went to the microphone. Quick was dressed in a nice off the rack suit. His appearance was a direct contradiction to Davies.  His clothing was fresh pressed, perhaps all new, and his grooming military precise.

“Mr. Quick, what agency do you work for and what is your position?”

“I work for the DEA, I’m Section Chief, Mid Atlantic and Federal Government Associations.”

“Mr. Quick, please describe any investigations concerning the assets of Creston Corporation”

“Yes sir. Our focus was principally on the Verducci family.  They were moving a lot of product, but we never could get a handle on how they were getting it into the country.  We allocated some resources to the other side of the equation and discovered the product was being moved with the Creston aircraft.  Because nearly all of the people associated with these movements were Congressmen and Senators we couldn’t move precipitously. And, in retrospect, it is a good thing we didn’t, because with one exception they were all uninvolved.  We allocated some more resources and uncovered the seller, Francisco de la Barqui. He is known as ‘Goats’.  He deals in drugs, military hardware, slaves, secrets and also legitimate items.  He said his buyer was Senator Roberts.”

“When did you acquire this information?”

“It was nearly two years ago.”

“Why haven’t you acted?”

“We work to arrest and prosecute people.  The methods we used to get the data, particularly from Goats, were outside the accepted norms.  Some might even be considered illegal.  In any event, we did not have a clear path to the Senator we could defend in court.”

“What happened next?”

“We leaked that we were on the Senator’s case to someone we knew would get the message to him quickly.  It was shortly after that he began meeting with Mr. Davies. We do have some snatches of conversations we monitored at the time, but to be honest with you we did not understand the context because it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the drug trafficking.  Concurrently he had meetings with Verducci.  He was worried about DEA being on him, but he said he was going to generate some smoke that would keep the feds off target.  He put the arm on Verducci for seven hundred thousand.  Verducci groused, but conceded.  Verducci was skeptical because he wouldn’t be in control.  Roberts protested that, and I quote, ‘In all their years of association I have always been reliable, don’t start questioning me now or I will stop the shipments.”

“Please look at  the screen.  Do you recognize the face on the screen?”  It was Jordan Fairchild

“Yes. This is Jordan Fairchild.  He lives in the Detroit area.  He is an organizer for the AFL/CIO.”

“Is he affiliated with the Verducci’s?”

“No.”

“Does he have any affiliation with Mr. Davies, Mr. Langston, or Senator Roberts?”

“Yes, sir.  He provides security services for Senator Roberts and other Liberty politicians whenever they are in Michigan, Indiana and Ohio.  We have photographs with the Senator and Mr. Fairchild at scores of different functions.”

“Do you know where Mr. Fairchild is at the moment?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you.”  A man standing at the nearest door caught Corey’s eye.  Corey turned and acknowledged the man, who immediately brought a manila envelope to Corey without comment.  Corey browsed the contents and then set it on the podium.

“Miss Phelps, would you please come to the microphone”

Miss Phelps was several rows back.  As she walked to the microphone she looked like a strolling sod structure.  She was dressed from head to toe in subdued earth tones.  Any less hue in any of the fabrics and she would have been in all gray. Her immediate image was one of subservience.  Her hair was short-cropped.  She wore no obvious makeup. A closer look revealed she had striking facial features and the loose fit of her clothing masked a nice figure. 

“Miss Phelps, are you an employee of a government agency, and if so what is your position?”

“I’m on administrative leave from the FBI.  Friday I was a systems manager for data management.”

“Are you acquainted with Mr. Langston, Senator Roberts, Mr. Davies, or the President?”

“Yes.  I work for the Liberty Party as a volunteer.  I have worked with Mr. Langston on the national level for fund raising and candidate promotion.  I have worked with Senator Roberts in Washington D.C.”

“Are you romantically involved with the Senator or Mr. Langston?”

“No.”

“Miss Phelps, did you enter codes that would hide the identities of certain people from local law enforcement enquiries following a request from Mr. Langston?”

“Yes.”

“Did you undertake those activities on behalf of Senator Roberts?”

“Yes.”

“What was your motivation?”

“He gave me lists and asked if I would do it. That’s all.”

“If Senator Johnson, from Iowa, asked you would you do the same thing?”

“No”

“Why would you do it for one Senator, but not another?”

“I don’t know Senator Johnson.  He is in the other party.  I didn’t believe Senator Roberts would ask me to do this and it not be an honorable request.”

“Miss Phelps, were you given any training prior to starting your job?”

“Yes.”

“As part of that training was there orientation about doing favors for people, versus directives from positions of authority?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you were aware you were doing something contrary to internal policies.”

“Yes, sir.”

Corey abandoned his notes for a bit, looked Miss Phelps square in the eye for several seconds before asking, “Miss Phelps, in the larger scheme of things, how would you gage the importance of your efforts for the Senator versus your duty to your employer?”

“The Bureau is just part of an oppressive police state, a fascist organization.  I have no misgivings putting Senator Roberts agenda ahead of the Bureau’s.

“Is it all just a big game to you, Miss Phelps?”

 

“It depends on who is in charge.”

“Thank you.”

“Mr. President, if I may, I have some material that was just handed to me.  I would like to show it on the screen.”

The President nodded.

Corey inserted a CD into a computer.  He clicked a few icons.  The image of the Wisconsin Highway Patrol appeared on the screen.  The date and time were shown.  A man was sitting in a plain chair in an equally unadorned room.  An unseen voice said, “Please identify yourself.”

The man sitting in the chair stated “Jordan Fairchild.”

The unseen voice asked, “Are you making this statement free of coercion or threat?”

With a frustrated look and tone Fairchild answered, “Yes.”

“Did you travel to South Dakota yesterday?”

“Yeah, it was yesterday or the day before.”

“What was the purpose of your trip.”

“I went to torch a house out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Did you know the occupants?”

“No.”

“Were you paid for your services?”

“Yes.”

“Who paid you?”

“Senator Roberts.”

“How did you get to the house?”

“ I flew to Minneapolis, bought a Suburban, drove west toward South Dakota. The radio said there was a blizzard where I was heading, so I stopped in a small city, Wilmar.  I bought a sled and all the gear I needed to go along with it and continued to head west.  I got to the next town.  The highway patrol was stopping everyone to tell them the road was closed at the next town, about 15 miles down the road, and there wasn’t any more lodging available there.  I checked my maps.  I needed gas for the job and the sled, so I bought a bunch of gas cans at a boat store.  I spent the night there.  I got up early, drove down the road to the next town, parked the Suburban and headed down the road on the sled.  I torched the house and a car in the yard that I was told also needed to go.  I headed back home.”

“Who paid for the vehicles?”

“I have no idea.  I have a packet that has drivers licenses and matching credit cards.  I think each card is good for $25,000.  Roberts sent them to me.”

Corey stopped the CD. “That’s all I have, Mr. President, unless you want to hear from another wiretap operator and a few other personnel from State or FBI.”

The President rose.  “Thank you, Doctor Smith.  I would like to meet with the majority and minority leaders.  The rest of you are excused.  Thank you all for being here this morning.”

The room cleared with the exception of two Senators, two Representatives, Senator Roberts, Langston and the President.  Everyone sat around a table in front of the stage.

“Gentlemen, I’m not so politically naïve to be surprised by the actions of Senator Roberts and Mr. Langston as far as wanting to smear me.  I’m disgusted, but not surprised.  I know that my party also employs a variety of low key operations to encourage political outcomes.

“If that was all that was going on we would not be here today. Senator Roberts has greatly exceeded his authorities and privileges.

“Here is what is going to happen. Senator Roberts is going to announce his resignation from his home in Holyoke this evening. There will be no tearful display on the Capitol steps.  Tomorrow the Governor of Massachusetts will announce his replacement is Frank Carleti.”

The minority leader started to protest, but the President stared him down.

“Mr. Langston will move back to Ohio this afternoon.  He will no longer attend any party functions or communicate with any elected official beyond a greeting on the street.  Mr. Langston, if you are ever within a hundred miles of Washington D.C., you will go to prison for the remainder of your life.

 

“The U.S. Attorney for Western Massachusetts is executing arrest warrants for the Verduccis right now. If there is any political posturing out of any of you over this I will tell the Verduccis that Roberts and Langston ratted them out.”

The minority leader of the Senate spoke.  “Mr. President, what if the press gets hold of this?  What do we tell our colleagues?”

The President spoke very evenly.  “The press will not get any of this from the executive branch.  They might try to put two and two together.  I can’t stop that.  It will be up to you to control that story, if you can. As to what you tell your colleagues?  Yes, what are you going to tell your colleagues? What are you going to tell them about your good friend, the honorable Senator from Massachusetts?  Senator Newton I want you to look me square in the eye and tell me you had no idea of Senator Roberts reputation for being associated with the mob. This is your bed, you made it, you sleep in it.”

The minority leader wouldn’t let it go.  “Mr. President, what about due process here?  The Senator hasn’t been charged with anything or convicted.”

The President said, “Fine. I will play it your way. Senator Roberts and Mr. Langston will be charged with smuggling drugs, conspiracy to commit murder, money laundering, and twenty-seven other items. The proceedings will start next week and will continue on through the fall elections.  Every day a new revelation about a Senator or a Representative will be disclosed.  Every week there will be another batch of names of Senators and Representatives connected with Langston’s travel operations released to the press.” 

The President paused.  He was extremely perturbed and took a second to let his anger subside.  In a very even tone he said, “You can have it your way.  Due Process it is.”

The President went to the door.  He spoke briefly to a secret service agent.  The President returned to his chair and sat silently.  Some time passed before there was a light knock on the door. The door opened and three men and a woman wearing U.S. Marshal badges entered the room. Two went to the Senator and two went to Langston.  Senator Roberts and Langston stood and the marshals handcuffed them and started to lead them out of the room.  A Presidential aide appeared and whispered instructions to the marshals.  They nodded, turned around and started toward a more discreet exit.

The Senate Minority Leader protested.  “Wait!  Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my comment.  Can we just wait a minute?  Can’t we discuss this?”

The President replied, “Senator.  You don’t seem to understand.  This isn’t a negotiating session.  This isn’t a poker game where you have a lousy hand but try to bluff.  You don’t have any cards.  I have the entire deck.  All you have is a joker.  I don’t want anything from you.  I didn’t ask you here this morning because I wanted your permission. You don’t seem to comprehend that I have nothing to lose over this. I don’t care if these guys swing in the breeze for years to come.  That’s what you want, that’s what you get.  Take them away, marshals.”

The President followed them out of the room, leaving the four Senators and Congressmen sitting at the table, stunned.  The House Minority Leader turned to the Senate Minority Leader, “What the hell were you thinking?  Are you some kind of idiot?  He offered us the deal of the century and you had to protest?  For God’s sake!  What the hell were you thinking?”

The Senate Minority Leader replied in defense, “I couldn’t just let him have his way unchallenged.  We have been stopping him on everything else.  They won’t be able to prove all of this in court, half of what they said today is inadmissible.”

The House Minority Leader screamed at him, “You’re a freaking idiot!  Can’t you sort out your propaganda from the truth for a moment?  He didn’t need our permission or consent or advice.  He didn’t even have to offer us the courtesy of this meeting!  He could have blindsided us.  God in Heaven, I can’t believe you did that!”  He fell silent.  After a moment he picked up his briefcase and went to the door.  He was closely followed by the Majority Leaders.

The Senate Minority Leader sat alone at the table in the empty auditorium.