Homeland Security

by William L Casselman

  “Thank you, Sir…I’ll be here,” Clay said enthusiastically. He had a big smile on his face, which he believed the old Colonel would expect to see.

  “By the way, Clay, how are things with Emy since the Barbecue? The only reason I ask is that…well, I’m sort of like a grandfather figure or a Dutch-uncle in her life, and I dearly care about her. She was pretty upset the other night.”

  “We haven’t spoken since that night, Sir. I’ve called, but she won’t speak to me.”

  “Don’t give up. I saw the way she looked at you, and I’ve never seen her look that way before at any other young man. Right now she’s embarrassed and blaming her father for interfering in her life. But, dads do that. It’s part of being a dad. We care so much, we often blunder in, while trying to protect our children. Don’t worry; she’ll get over it.”

  “I hope so, Sir…I really do.” I really do.

  “Good! You two will make a good couple.” Silas punched Clay lightly on the side of his left arm and walked back to his office, which left Clay there alone. For a long moment, he watched the crew members do their work and could see the Colonel had hired a lot of well-trained mechanics. He suspected a good share of these people had come from the military. He then spotted a few females in the bay, their hair and faces splotched with grease and coveralls filthy in grime. Clay loved female mechanics. He always thought it was the better of two worlds; girls and wrench turners, and he suspected Emy was a hotshot mechanic herself.

  As he glanced about, he also noticed there were at least 10-security cameras inside the bay and a couple extra in the parts shop. Clay wondered if these were for security at night, or were they in play for the boss to keep an eye on his employees. But, he knew this system might work for the feds also if Clay could have the Feds hack into the system and possibly overhear the worker’s conversations. Night time operations might provide additional evidence if the Colonel was, in fact, running the this area’s section for the Alaska Defense Force and having some of his meetings right here. But it was the FFAM that he was here for and wasn’t sold on the idea that old Silas was involved with that. I’ll tell the Doc what’s happened so far and suggest they look into hacking the buildings security system. They’re so advanced now that Silas’s security boys would never suspect they were now providing action flicks for the feds.

  BASSETT ARMY HOSPITAL, FORT WAINWRIGHT, ALASKA

  ROOM # 318

  16:25 HOURS (4:25 P.M.), 11 OCTOBER

  Doc Adams took notes today, even though his digital recorder was on. He’d already taken his photographs of Clay, and they were into their interview to the point where Clay described his new job and a couple of the problems he had with his personnel.

  “It’s not a big thing, Doc and I’m working real hard trying not to lose my temper. Last thing I need is to get arrested for assault or disorderly conduct at work. But, I’ve got this one clown who keeps pushing me about the whole racial crap, and my button is getting thinner every day. Now I know I’ve been trained to handle this, but you people never gave me any downtime between operations….time to unwind a bit. Besides Tennessee, with those racist bastards, I’ve spent two years undercover in Egypt and Libya. Before that, it was Afghanistan and Iraq, not to mention all the schools the military sent me through. I’m tighter than…I’m tired, Doc and this guy might end up in the hospital if he doesn’t back off.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s an Assistant Parts Manager, who I guess had high hopes for my position. Now he probably thinks by taking me down; he can walk right into it. But, he has no idea who he’s messing with, or what the Army has transformed me into.”

  “Can you talk to Mr. Wickersham about it?”

  “That’s showing a weakness on my part, and I’d rather not do that.”

  “What’s the solution then?” Doc Adams jotted down a few notes and took a sip from his Starbucks 16 ounce travel cup. He was Peppermint Mocha fan and usually 2-3 times a day. There was a Starbucks located on the first floor of the hospital in Seattle, and they had one on nearly every downtown corner. Thankfully, his office in Seattle was only half-a-block from one, which gave him his daily exercise too, if he took the stairs and not the elevator. But, here at Fort Wainwright, he had to drive to the Post Commissary/PX and eatery center to locate his Starbucks. As for Clay, he liked commercial coffee, but he preferred the hard and gritty G.I. coffee. Its after-effects could last nearly a whole day. He also enjoyed some of the coffee the local served in Egypt and Afghanistan, except they usually served it in small cups and you often drank it black. He quickly learned he needed to play it safe with some of the sweeteners and creams they might offer you. Rarely did they tell you what sort of critter the milky substance came from, or what was being used for a sugary substance. But, one didn’t wish to offend anyone when the boiling hot drink was offered, so you took a single sip to save your lips, tongue, and throat from being boiled. But, if Clay liked it, he would finish off the cup, and this gratified the local who provided the service.

  Clay glanced up at the Doc and said, “I guess I’ll just have to keep enduring it until he gets tired of pushing his crap,” Clay said wearily. “Funny thing, Doc, it’s not about me being a breed either. He thinks I’m some kind of camel jockey and probably a Muslim terrorist hiding out in some hidden cell awaiting word to strike. Can you believe it? He keeps coming up to me and shouting out in a few words of Farsi he knows, hoping I’d respond. I don’t even think he knows what he’s saying, because he sure would be surprised if he did… especially talking that way to a man. I’m not going to gratify him by identifying my race, but when he does find out, he sure is going to feel stupid.”

  “Doc Adams laughed. “How about the Colonel? Anything new there?”

  “I’m not sure,” Clay replied with some slight hesitation. “He’s been in the bay a lot lately, watching me or the mechanics and I’ve been invited out to lunch with the staff day after tomorrow. Most likely it’s simply a businessmen’s lunch to discuss company tactics. But, I have this feeling… I can’t explain it, but I have this feeling of expectation.”

  “In your job, Clay, I’m not surprised you wouldn’t work by such inner feelings. You’re out there by your lonesome, you’ve got to ride those hunches. Like, what’s around that corner, who can I trust… such things are quite normal for an undercover operative. But how are they working on your other venture?”

  “My other what venture?”

  “Ms. Emy of course,” Doc Adams replied with a grin on his face.

  “Oh, her,” Clay responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head. “We’ve finally spoken on the phone once, but I felt like I was speaking to the town’s librarian. I never knew such coldness… No, that’s not true. The Muslim women in Iraq and Afghanistan really hated us. You didn’t know real hate until you saw it in their eyes when they knew you were an American and not some French or Canadian. I was with the Airborne and then Special Forces, but you already know all that. Anyway, quite often we’d say we were Canadian or even Alaskan when buying stuff. For some reason, they never put Alaska and USA together. Still, it was easier to work with the men… they weren’t as honest as the women with their hate. But as to Emy, we haven’t crossed the ice bridge yet, and I’m not sure we ever will.”

  “Stay in there, soldier,” Doc said. “From what you’ve told me about her, she’s worth it.”

  “Hey, Doc, did you forget why I’m here? I could very well be the one who sends Emy and her family to federal prison for life and have to live with that cheery thought.”

  Doc Adams face filled with a deep frown, and he looked about the room, “Sorry, Lad. I forgot where I was for a moment. I’ve become a little too close on this one, much like your self. Felt like I was back in my office in Seattle, giving advice to a lovelorn patient who suffered from PTSD or alcoholism. It happens now and then, Clay…comes with the job. But don’t worry, won’t happen again…Still, you need some contact with her as a link, and it may involv
e you doing a bit of the old James Bond love ‘em and leave ‘em routine.”

  “I think I need to go to Disneyland for a couple weeks after this. Everything will make sense thereafter these last few years, and the Mad Hatter and the March Hare and I can have some tea together.”

  Doc grinned and then said, “Remember, Clay, if your combat antenna is telling you something then be prepared at this luncheon for anything. This could be about cars, and it could be about the Alaska Defense Force, or it could be something even deeper. Be gentle, hesitant, and soft-spoken, avoid liquor, try not to get stuck with the bill and make a mental note of what is said and if it concerns what we need to know about. If it’s about cars, I am interested in the newest hybrid models…” Doc shook his head and added, “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

  “Doc, I know how to work my job, and I’ll move along slowly with Emy.” Clay was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head and grinned, “Sir, you would not believe the army of protectors that girl has. I’d be afraid to wrong her for fear you’d never find my body again. No one would!”

  With a raised eyebrow, Doc made a few written notes and then said, “I know you are a highly trained operative, Clay. But you’ve been overly stressed, and as I’ve said before, you should have never been placed on this assignment in the first place. I’ve said this to my bosses, of how you’re worn out. I even added how I was too. I’m getting too old for this kind of work, and I’m beginning to believe you will be my last governmental assignment. But, as to you, you’re stuck being the best man for the assignment. Now, when this is over you can hit Disneyland or Disney World, but for me, it’s time for a few years in sunny Florida, or maybe some time in Hawaii. I’ve earned it, and they owe me. But, I’ll stick it out until we’re done here. If you need me to, I’ll stay in the state and be available for when you start getting close. You can contact me 24/7. Here is my number for all emergencies and it’s simply a VA recording line, so you can get away with carrying the number without a problem. If you call, I know it’s time for a rush appointment. You’ve either got news, or you’re hiding somewhere, and we need to pull you out ASAP.”

  “Thank you, Doc. I’ll let you know,” Clay said. “Actually, talking with you does relieve some of the stress. I’m ready to go back in and face the dragons. I know if anyone died because I couldn’t handle it anymore…I’m done, and that means the Army, too.”

  Twenty-minutes later, Clay was walking out the front gate of Fort Wainwright and on his way to a public parking lot. He had a dealership loaner to use for his doctor’s appointment, but it didn’t have a base decal to allow him onto the base, and he didn’t feel like going through all the paperwork to get a guest pass. So he parked it and walked the half-mile to the huge Army hospital. Periodically, the Army MP’s Explosive sniffer dogs came around the parking lots outside the gate, which was legal because the parking lot being on federal ground. Clay remembered when the front gate used to be more open and just about anyone could pass through as a short cut to North Pole or to visit people on post. But, that was all before September 11th, 2001 and the 9/11 disaster. Now there were concrete barricades on both sides of the gate shack to protect the gate guards and the MP’s wore camouflaged fatigues and were armed with M-4 automatic rifles.

  PRINCESS HOTEL- OFF THE CHENA RIVER, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA

  PRIVATE CONFERENCE / LUNCHEON / DINNER ROOM

  11:48 A.M. 15 OCTOBER

  By invitation, Clay had ridden to the staff luncheon in Silas’s brand new cobalt blue Suburban. It came with a deluxe package and every do-dad added on. A ground crew had recently washed and waxed it, so it really shined, and Clay was surprised to see Silas actually driving it. Clay had expected him to be chauffeured around by one of the workers and was additionally surprised to see they were the only two in the vehicle. Clay had never been inside the Princess Hotel, other than the lobby when he had picked up some passengers to take them to the airport to catch the Alaskan Airlines or Delta redeye flights out at 1 a.m. He thought it was a beautiful hotel and knew that with winter on its way, things were slowing down. There was already a frost to the air, with morning temperatures down below freezing and ice showing up on the windshields of the vehicles parked outside in the lot. There had been some snow flurries, but the snow wasn’t sticking yet.

  When they arrived in the lobby, Clay looked about the room and was glad Silas had given him time to change out of his coveralls and into his street clothes. Though at the moment he didn’t think his clothes were suitable for the dining room of the Princess Hotel; most of the men eating here were in suits, sport coats, and ties, while the women wore very nice dresses or skirt& blouse outfits. But, Clay was dressed in blue jeans, a blue flannel shirt, and his grandfather’s moose-hide vest.

  Clay figured they were early because he didn’t see anyone else from the dealership and then Silas lead him to the elevator. A moment later, they arrived on the 3rd floor, and Clay found himself being led into a large private conference room. Once inside, Clay began to recognize some of the men and women he had met at the barbecue, and suddenly, his combat antenna stood up and began to buzz with a 100-volt charge. At times like this, he wished he’d had his .45 Colt 1911 in the middle of his back, but that would’ve blown his cover. Yet, right at this moment, he felt so naked and disarmed, and he didn’t like it at all.

  “Clay, I believe you’ve met all these people. But, in the event you’ve forgotten their names…” Silas began pointing to the people sitting around a large conference table. “… Allen Peterson, who is a retired Air Force major; Norm Johnson, a retired Alaskan Air National Guard Chief Master Sergeant; Sid Linker, former US Army Captain; Wendy Butler, Principal of Tanana Middle School; Greg Slocum, holds a degree in Economics and works with a local investment firm; Charlie Yoder, former EOD Sergeant with US Army, a K-9 dog handler and owner of the Fairbanks Electrical Supply Shop on South Cushman. Now, this is Sandy Benders, recently received her college degree in Forestry and hoping to wrangle a job with the Department of Forestry here in Alaska; here we have Hannah Mayo, attending UAF and in her 3rd year, but also an Army veteran, who served two tours in Iraq.”

  Silas then led Clay to the far end of the table and introduced Chad Kenders, “Chad is our resident elf and former lieutenant in the Alaska Army National Guard… the elf business is due to his work at the Santa Claus House in North Pole. We have Steve Rouse, former US Army Airborne E-6 with 3-tours in the sandbox and now retired on service disability…And now you have met my staff.”

  Clay didn’t say a word and exchanged non-committal looks with the people who sat around the big table, nodded his head and then looked to Silas and waited for an explanation.

  “Take a seat over there, Clay, that empty seat to the end one. That’s where I normally sit when I’m holding court.” Silas couldn’t help but notice the look of confusion on Clay’s face, and this is what he expected.

  “Now, I will endeavor to explain all this. Please wait a moment though, while the waiters bring in our lunch. Some of these people here have schedules, and we only have a short time to meet here.”

  Clay wasn’t sure how he did it, but suddenly the doors opened, and four tables with silver buffet trays were wheeled in by four waiters. A fifth table was then brought in, which contained non-alcoholic drinks and glasses filled with ice. There were elegant tableware, white cloth napkins and Clay saw the food was top of the line from the hotel’s luncheon menu. Roast beef, ham, turkey and five kinds of cheeses. There were four different kinds of breads for sandwiches, heaps of fresh veggies for either a side salad or a sandwich and various dressings, bowls of assorted chips and fresh fruits. To add to all this was trays of assorted delicate desserts and it all had Clay licking his chops, but of course, he wondered if there were any donuts?

  Once they all had their plates full and returned to their seats, Silas looked over to Norm Johnson, his security expert and asked if everything was taken care of.

  “Yes, Sir…jamming device is on. The whole room w
as previously searched for cameras or recording devices. We’re up and running,” Norm replied.

  “Thank you,” Silas said and advised everyone to fill their plates as I talk with Clay, here.” Then, with everyone moving toward the tables, plates in hand, Silas began to advise Clay about the Alaska National Guard. Suddenly, Clay thought he was in the wrong room and Silas was a recruiter for either the Alaskan Army or Air National Guard. This was not in his game plan, but then he noticed a change in Silas’s tone, “… The Guard is certainly up to the task, but not completely, not with Congress reducing its funding. If our state came under attack, if we were invaded by land, sea or air, the Guard would not be able to defend our people. Even with the current strength of the US Military present here, which is currently downsizing…again, Alaska would be defenseless against a major foe such as Russia or China….even North Korea. Now, this is why the State of Alaska has allowed a legal militia to be formed, which is called the Alaska Defense Force.

  Okay! Now we’re talkin’! Clay had to fight a smile down, but he’d done this work before, and he now waited.

  “Currently, our Alaska Defense Force has less than 1500 people, with each troop an owner of his personal weapon and responsible for his or her uniforms, often his ammo. We conduct training, which includes live fire courses for sides arms, rifles of semi and fully automatic weapons…fully licensed of course, along with group tactics. We also have purchased an assortment of vehicles, to assist us, from military auctions of course. In the event our Militia is called upon to assist the Guard for any state or national emergency, we want to be prepared. But unlike the Alaska National Guard, our Alaska Defense Force cannot be sent overseas to fight in a war…like Afghanistan or even Korea. Do you understand all I’ve told you here so far, Clay?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Clay replied. He wasn’t sure if he should say more, so he stayed quiet for now.

  “Colonel, some of us have to leave very soon,” Allen Peterson said. He knew he was to be the one to speak up, being the 2nd in command for the FFAM.