[Lady Justice 08] - Lady Justice and the Watchers

by Robert Thornhill

  “So you did all of this just to see if you could rattle the spy guy’s cages?”

  “Yep! Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Well, I don’t know about cool, but you’ve certainly got Homeland security on your asses.”

  “Here’s the bottom line, Walt. Our government is spying on us. I know they say it’s to protect us from more incidents like the Twin Towers, but there’s a fine line separating protection from control.

  “Are you completely confident that government bureaucrats are not using the information they’re collecting for purposes other than anti-terrorism?”

  Given my experience last summer with the FDA, I wasn’t sure of much of anything that concerned the bureaucracy other than we needed to keep an eye on them.

  There it was again.

  Somebody needs to be watching those who are watching us.

  CHAPTER 8

  I tossed and turned all night knowing that I was going to get a royal ass-chewing for what I was going to do the next morning.

  My salvation was that Maggie totally agreed with me --- Arnie and Nick were definitely not terrorists!

  Before squad meeting, I had called the Captain and asked him to set up a meeting with Mark Davenport.

  What I didn’t tell him was that I had invited Arnie and Nick to be there too.

  When the squad meeting had concluded, I followed the Captain to his office.

  Mark Davenport was just coming off the elevator and joined us.

  We passed through the reception area and Mark almost dropped a load when he spotted Arnie and Nick. They smiled and gave us a little finger-wave.

  The Captain was the first to respond, “Walt! My office, now!”

  Davenport was livid, “What were you thinking? You’ve blown our whole investigation. I thought I could count on you.”

  I let him rant and rave for a few minutes and was about to speak when the Captain broke in, “Mark, I trust Walt’s judgment. I’m sure he has a good explanation. Walt?”

  I took a deep breath, “It’s pretty simple actually. These guys are not terrorists.”

  Mark was about to launch into another tirade, but the Captain raised his hand.

  “Let him finish.”

  I continued, “Captain, you know Dr. Pearson, Katherine and Pastor Bob, too. All of them are working with Arnie and Nick. If they’re really terrorists, then all of those good folks are too.

  “Then there’s Maggie.”

  “My God, Walt,” the Captain said. “You actually dragged your wife to one of their meetings?”

  “Yes, and she sat right beside Katherine Pearson. It was a very lovely and informative evening.”

  “Informative, how?”

  “Captain,” I replied, “do you remember last summer when we worked with the FBI to uncover the collusion between Putnam Pharmaceuticals and the FDA?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what these guys are doing. They’re like watch dogs keeping an eye on government agencies. I’ve been to three of their meetings and two of them involved links between the CDC and the big drug companies.”

  I spotted a pitcher of ice water on the Captain’s desk and held it up.

  “Did you know that the liquid in this pitcher contains a neurotoxin that is the byproduct of industrial waste and can cause cancer, hyperactivity and loss of memory?”

  The Captain looked skeptically at the sparkling liquid and shook his head.

  “Well, I didn’t either until I went to Arnie and Nick’s meeting last night. It was all about mounting a campaign to get the poison out of our drinking water. Does that sound like terrorism to you?”

  Mark wasn’t convinced, “What about the ‘chatter’ we’ve traced to them? There’s definitely something more going on.”

  “You’re exactly right, Mark. What’s going on is that these guys had the balls to poke a stick at the big bear.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I don’t suppose the term ‘Echelon’ means anything to you?”

  Mark’s sudden reaction and the tenseness in his face told me everything I needed to know.

  I had shoved in the knife and it was time to twist the blade.

  “Since it’s against the law for our government to spy on its citizens, I’m guessing that our friends in the United Kingdom have been feeding you information that they have gleaned from the emails and faxes they have been monitoring with Echelon.

  “Well, this time, the joke’s on you. Arnie and Nick have been broadcasting innocuous sentences containing key words for the sole purpose of exposing the fact that our government is spying on its people. Looks like they’ve proven their point.”

  Mark didn’t respond.

  The Captain rose from his chair, “I think it’s time we heard from our friends in the waiting room. Walt, please invite them in.”

  I ushered our guests into the Captain’s office and made the introductions.

  They were like two kids in a candy store.

  “So you’re really from Homeland Security?” Arnie asked Mark.

  He nodded.

  “Sweet! I guess our little broadcasts got someone’s attention.”

  Nick handed Arnie a manila folder, which he, in turn, handed to Mark.

  “We just wanted everything to be above board. These are copies of every fax and email that we have sent. I’m sure that you’ll find nothing there that poses a threat to national security.

  “The last thing we want is to be hauled off to Guantanamo. We still have lots of work to do here in the good old US of A.”

  Mark finally spoke, “Exactly what were you trying to accomplish with your little charade? Don’t you know that we do what we do to protect our country from attack?”

  “Of course we do. The last thing we want is another September 11. But we also want a government that tells us the truth. If you’re watching us, say so. Don’t lie to us. I don’t imagine that there are many Americans that would trade their safety and security for the right not to be watched. We just want to know, that’s all.”

  Mark thought for a minute, “What about Pakistan?”

  “What about it?” Arnie replied. “I know it’s a country over there by India and Afghanistan.”

  “So you guys have had no communication with anyone from Pakistan?”

  “Absolutely not! Cross my heart!” he said, making the big X across his chest.

  Mark heaved a big sigh, “Get out of here, both of you and no more charades!”

  Nick spoke for the first time, “Before we go --- about Echelon --- I have just a few ques---.”

  Mark cut him off. “Not a chance! Now get out before I change my mind.”

  Arnie had to get in a parting shot, “Listen, if you guys are free about noon, we’re having a rally on the steps of the Convention Center. The AMA is having a conference and we want to be there when they break for lunch. We have a message for them.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Now beat it!”

  Mark turned to me, “I’m sorry Walt. I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard. You were right of course.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “But one thing is still troubling. Their shenanigans explain part of the ‘chatter’ but not all of it. I’m still worried about the Pakistan thing. Looks like I may be staying in Kansas City a while longer. Something else is definitely going on.”

  Mark rose to leave and the Captain said, “You know that if there’s anything our department can do to help, you have our cooperation.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  Then he turned to me again. “Say ‘hi’ to Dad for me,” and he was gone.

  “Whew,” I said. “Glad that’s over with. I was afraid that if I was wrong, this might have been the end to my law enforcement career.”

  “You trusted your instincts and that’s something that only comes from years of experience. That’s why I keep you old farts around.”

  He picked up the pitcher if water. “
If you’re not busy at noon, let’s drop by the Convention Center. I’ve heard just enough of those guys to arouse my curiosity. I’d like to hear what they have to say.”

  “You’re on!”

  By the time we arrived, a crowd was beginning to gather on the steps of the Convention Center.

  Arnie had timed his appearance at precisely the moment that the doors swung open releasing a flood of doctors heading off to lunch.

  Most ignored his remarks, but there were a few who joined the growing crowd.

  “Here they are folks,” he shouted, “the third leg in the Great Triumvirate. The American Medical Association along with the wealthy pharmaceutical companies and the Washington bureaucrats at the FDA and CDC have joined forces to perpetrate one of the biggest hoaxes ever on the American people.

  “One would think that such a group would only act in the best interests of our citizens, to ensure their health and well being, but that, my friends, is far from the truth.

  “The truth is that it’s all about the almighty dollar. It’s all about the money that can be made from tricking and treating people like you and me.

  A few of the doctors that had stopped shook their heads and walked away.

  “Let’s look at some examples,” Arnie continued.

  “The CDC has recommended that everyone be inoculated with the flu vaccine in spite of the fact that it is filled with aluminum and mercury that make one susceptible to Alzheimer’s disease. Studies have shown that the vaccine is worthless at best and should be avoided, and yet they persist. Why? Annual earnings between ten and fifteen billion dollars a year, that’s why.

  “The FDA approved the PSA test to detect prostate cancer in men. In spite of the fact that experts now say that the test is little better than a coin toss, it is still recommended for all men over the age of forty. Why? Because over thirty million men have been tested at a cost of thirty billion dollars. That’s why!

  “Not being content with duping adults, the CDC has now set their sights on our children. In addition to the dozens of inoculations they already receive, the CDC is now recommending that all children, boys included, be given the HPV vaccine for cervical cancer between the ages of nine and twelve in spite of the fact that children are dying and suffering debilitating symptoms as a direct result of the inoculations. Why? Because the vaccine brings in a billion and a half dollars a year to the drug companies. That’s why.

  “Now here’s the latest. Realizing that the ‘baby boomer’ generation is the fastest growing segment of our society, representing nearly a third of our population, and knowing that this group has more disposable income than their younger counterparts, the CDC and big pharma are concocting their latest ruse, hepatitis C.

  “What an amazing coincidence that the CDC’s declaration that all baby boomers be tested for hepatitis C comes at exactly the same time that two new drugs, estimated to cost between a thousand and four thousand dollars a week have just come on the market. It’s the money, folks. It’s all about the money!

  “Friends, it’s time to start thinking for yourselves. Doctors are not Gods. They are just men who have been trained to dispense drugs and cut away your body parts. They are paid handsomely by the giant drug companies to peddle and push their expensive products that have far more potential to do harm than good.

  “A generation ago, when our children were being tempted by their peers to try drugs and alcohol, a phrase was coined to help them cope.

  “That phrase was ‘just say no’.

  “So the next time your doctor wants to stick you and your children with their syringes full of aluminum, mercury and other toxins, just say ‘no’!

  “It’s your right to be informed and to choose.

  “Thank you for your time and attention.”

  It wasn’t difficult to tell who in the audience were doctors. Those that hadn’t left earlier, walked away shaking their heads in disgust.

  The rest of the crowd, trying to digest this new information, left with puzzled looks on their faces.

  “Well, that was certainly an earful,” the Captain said. “Who are these guys and what’s their goal in all this?”

  “Professor Skinner calls them ‘watchers’. They are simply concerned citizens who believe that it’s important to hold people in power accountable for their actions.

  “It doesn’t matter whether it’s a senator, a bureaucrat, a corporate executive or the doctor at the local clinic. If it’s someone that has the power to affect the lives of people, they need to be watched to make sure that their position of power is not being abused.”

  “I’m guessing that goes all the way to the Department of Homeland Security,” he said with a smile.

  “So it would seem, but isn’t it just a bit comforting knowing that someone is watching those who are watching us?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Adjusting to life in the United States was no easy task for Zareef Khan.

  Mustafa Wasim had moved him into a rental with the other five men that were working at Kauffman Stadium.

  They carpooled to the stadium every game day.

  Zareef was amazed the first time he saw the parking lot filled with thousands of cars. In his village of Spalga, only the wealthiest had automobiles. Everyone else walked or rode bicycles.

  He, along with three of his comrades, worked for Aramark as vendors. They would climb up and down the concrete steps selling hot dogs, beer and cotton candy to the exuberant fans.

  The other two men worked in the outfield scoreboard area, being ready at a moment’s notice to launch rockets into the air when one of the local heroes hit a home run.

  On special nights, they were part of the crew that kept fans in their seats after the game with a glorious fireworks display.

  The plan was simple.

  While security at the ballpark on All Star Game Day would be at an all time high, the explosive-sniffing dogs would bypass the fireworks area where the pyrotechnics would be stored. It was the perfect place to conceal explosives of a different nature.

  The metal boxes that the hot dog vendors carried were just the right size to conceal the explosive charges that would rock the free world on game day.

  Zareef’s comrades coached the newcomer in the finer points of vending. It was vital that Zareef adapt quickly to his new job. It would take all four of them, spread evenly throughout the stadium to cause the greatest amount of damage and make the resulting body count one that would eclipse that of the World Trade Center.

  After every game, Zareef was appalled by the waste of these fat, greedy Americans.

  There was always enough food left under the seats and in the aisles to feed his village for a week.

  For the most part, the fans were courteous, even friendly, but every game there were a few whose obnoxious behavior made him long for the day when their blood would run down the steps of the stadium.

  Zareef was a proud man and it took all his willpower to ignore the demeaning demands of some of the fans.

  “Hey, beer man. Over here! Two brewskys! Make it quick!” and “Hey, hot dog guy, four dogs, lots of mustard. Chop, chop!” made him cringe, but he tolerated it all for the greater good.

  His greatest challenge was learning to make change. His whole life had been centered around the rupee, the currency in Pakistan, and learning to add and subtract dollars and cents made his head spin.

  He practiced with his friends at the rental house, but that was totally different than the pressure of game day when some obnoxious guy had just ordered a round for all of his friends.

  On his first day, he thought the whole plan might unravel when he botched a guy’s change and the jerk became enraged.

  The guy was cursing and screaming when one of the usherettes came to his rescue.

  “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

  “This raghead idiot screwed me out of seventy-five cents. Seven bucks for a beer is bad enough, but then when the vendor takes a cut off the top, that’s just too much!”

&n
bsp; She looked at Zareef who had turned red with embarrassment.

  “I’m sure it was just an honest mistake. It wasn’t done intentionally. How about another beer on the house?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  After the incident, the usherette took Zareef into the tunnel that led to the vending area.

  “Hi, my name’s Julie. What’s yours?”

  “Zareeff. Thank you --- for that. I wasn’t trying to cheat --- it’s just difficult learning your money.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Pakistan. I’ve only been in America a short time.”

  “Tell you what. After the game, I’ll meet you at the vending area and we can work on making change.”

  Zareef was surprised. “You would do that?”

  “Of course, that’s what friends do. We’re all in this together trying to make the day at the ballpark a great experience for everyone, including us.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be there.”

  Zareef felt a little tingle as he watched the pretty young woman walk away.

  When he returned to his vending section, he took another long look at the man that had embarrassed him. He wanted to remember him and he hoped on All Star Day that the man would be there.

  He wanted to be standing next to him when he detonated his explosion.

  CHAPTER 10

  After Arnie’s rally at the Convention Center, I was ready to get back to our regular beat.

  Undercover work is always a nice change and diversion to our normal routine, but it’s kind of like going on vacation --- it’s fun for a while but it’s always nice to get back home.

  Ox and I were cruising South Kansas City when the radio came to life, “Car 54, proceed to the Ward Parkway Shopping Mall. Be on the look out for a customer leaving the Target store with a flat screen television. It was purchased with a credit card stolen yesterday from a shopper at McGonigle’s Grocery.”