Decency

by Rex Fuller

  “Heah now, git this jacket off so I don’t have to put mine on. Le’s roll up our sleeves and damage this food.”

  Kelly removed her suit jacket and they both rolled up their sleeves for serious eating.

  “Help yourself an’ don’ be shy. We got duck ‘etouffe’e an’ a little jambalaya an’ some black eyed peas. They been takin’ my instruction an’ jes’ ‘bout have it right.”

  Kelly took a small bite of each. The duck must have been slow cooked for hours. There was no hint of excess fat and was explosively flavorful. The jambalaya was a perfect pale orange, rice nesting bits of chicken, pork, peppers, and onions. The black eyed peas probably were cooked in bacon drippings to create so much rich flavor.

  “You’ve been teaching them very well, sir. It’s wonderful food.”

  “Comin’ along, comin’ along. Kelly, I need y’all to do me a favor…”

  …look out, here it comes…

  “…your case against NSA is pretty int’restin’ an’ as you know I have to watch out for the intell budget. I need you to tell me, is there anythin’ you found that could blow up in the press and make us go through another round of tearin’ up the intell commun’ty?”

  “Sir, the honest answer is I’m not sure. Yesterday, the NSA General Counsel had me briefed that what I thought was deliberate abuse of my clients’ daughter was really part of a counter-espionage investigation against other parties. Right now, I don’t know of any reason to doubt them. Even so, this business of referring employees to psychological evaluation willy nilly looks like it happens all too often. I have evidence that sometimes it’s used as retaliation, or as part of a retaliatory termination action. I guess how often it is used that way is the question and whether the press would think any such use is something to raise a stink about.”

  “How many times it happen you know about?”

  “I have heard of six. I have evidence of three.”

  “Damn, Kelly. That’s too many.”

  “Yes, sir, I’d like to think one is too many.”

  The Senator put down his fork leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head.

  “It’s too many ‘cause there’s more than that. You jes’ haven’t found ‘em all.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Senator.”

  Perhaps it was the gravity of the subject matter, but the Cajun softening of consonants faded considerably.

  “Kelly, I put in the exemption for the intell agencies when they wrote the rules on psychiatric exams for federal employees. I put in the requirement to go through the IG when they wrote the provision for intell employees complaining to Congress…”

  “Senator…”

  The host held up both palms to keep her from going on.

  “Heah me, my friend. I did those things because I believe intell work is both unique and critical. We’ve got to have the best intell in the world and we can’t have it if we rerun the Church committee process ever’ so many years.

  “The oldest boy in my father’s family died in a Chinese run POW camp in North Korea. I’ve studied what they did. How they used psychological torture. We have got to stay away from anything like that. Every time we retaliate against one of our people with a psych eval it’s a step closer to that. We won’t know when we’ve stepped over the line. When we do, then it’ way too damn late. Kelly…”

  The Senator paused and looked her dead square in the eyes.

  “I want you to let me know whatever you can, whenever you can. All right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll send copies of what we have so far as soon as I get back to the office.”

  “Good!”

  The Senator swung his arms down and let the smile come once again to his face.

  “Now, pour bon temps, let’s finish what we can of this Washington excuse for good food!”

  18

  The unexpected knock on the door jamb was quickly followed by an unknown voice of a young African-American man.

  “Ms. Hawkins is it?”

  “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “Ma’am, I’m here to install the security.”

  “The ‘security’?”

  The man entered carrying an aluminum briefcase. He wore a tan leather tool belt chocked with screwdrivers and pliers and slung with cable and a telephone. Instantly, Kelly remembered the upgrade project.

  “Oh, yeah. Come on in. Glad to see you.”

  The belt leather chirrupped softly with each stride to the desk.

  He presented a business card. “Technical Systems, Inc., Curtis McClinton, Installer.”

  “Wasn’t there a football player by that name?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re distant cousins. Not sure though. My work order says, ‘Firewall, Upgrade Software, and Peripherals,’ for your office. That what you need?”

  “If you say so. Have at it.”

  “May have to ask you to move a bit. Shouldn’t take more than a half hour though.”

  “That’s fine. I’d like to watch.”

  “Great. I like to have someone to talk to. Most of the lawyers’ offices we do, they just vanish until we get finished.”

  “You do a lot of this?”

  The man knelt down to the desktop box on the floor under Kelly’s desk, opened his briefcase, took a CD from it and inserted it into the drive.

  “Oh, yeah. We’ve got more business than we can handle. Which is good and I like it. We do a lot. We can even do Tempest projects. Do a lot of those for DoD. Seems kind of funny to harden computers against radiation and all. But it’s business.”

  “What exactly do you need to do here?”

  “Well the firewall firmware goes into your main router, what used to be a PBX. We’ve done that. We’re going to each terminal now to add the software to be sure they can read the firewall and debug the VPN, which is your in-house network, to be sure they can’t go around it. Stuff like that.”

  He took the keyboard and typed in commands. He paused and when the screen changed to a test configuration began running the cross check program.

  “Then we add a filter to the monitor screen so people can’t just read the stuff anyway as it comes up on the screen. You’d be surprised what you can get and how easy you can get it without these upgrades.”

  “That’s what I understand. That’s why we hired you guys.”

  “Yeah, for example I can read your fax, your phone, and your computer from across the street if I have enough time to fix the frequency.”

  “Even with the encryption on the software packages that are out today?”

  “Sure, those encryptions are like a sheath. They don’t really change the data, they just lay over it. It might take a few hours to run a decryption program like you can get anywhere, but you can get the data once you get access to the data stream. Of course that’s what the firewall is for.”

  “Is the firewall unbreakable?”

  “Nothing is unbreakable, as far as I know. Maybe the government has something that is. Basically the idea is to put more hurdles in the way and keep casual or even fairly good hackers from wanting to spend the time to break it. When you get right down to it, if you’re using a computer hooked up to the outside world in any way, somebody can read you.”

  “So if I want to keep anyone from ‘reading’ me what do I do?”

  “Well, let me think. I guess you’d have to be on a laptop that’s not wireless or even phone jack connected to the internet. Yeah, that’s probably what you’d have to do. And take it down to the basement where the radiation from the machine itself can’t be read. Of course, a whole lot of people think, ‘What’s the use of a computer at all if you can’t hook it up to the net?’ You’d be surprised how many people don’t know we even used computers before the net. Heck, I’ve still got an old portable, you know, that’s what they called them before ‘laptop,’ that doesn’t even have a phone port on it. Doesn’t even have a slot for the phone jack card in it now that I think about it. Still works fine for what I want it for, word processi
ng and taxes. Well, that’s all for configuring your machine.”

  McClinton’s monologue paused and he looked up to Kelly and discovered she was not there.

  She was running to the elevator.

  Jannie was dialing the phone to, as Kelly put it, “Tell the Pierces I’m coming and not one damn thing more.”

  Theresa Richardson pushed Gareth in the baby stroller up the sidewalk, easing over joints that heaved from years of repeated winter freezing of the moisture under the slabs. She devoutly believed in the “fresh air” theory that commands mothers to give their babies daily doses of open air and sunshine. The effort of tipping the wheels up and over each little crag in the walk every day was a small price for a healthy child.

  Gareth squinted against the light even though the awning was properly adjusted to keep direct sun out of his eyes.

  The bench at the bus stop on the corner was usually empty this time of day. Today, a professional man, maybe an accountant, was reading a newspaper while awaiting the bus. He glanced up at the sound of the stroller wheels.

  When she drew closer he folded his paper and turned toward her, smiling warmly at Gareth. Theresa smiled back. It was nice the way people sometimes were kind to you just because you have a baby.

  “He’s a real looker. He can’t be more than three months, can he?” The man had a very pleasant voice.

  “Two and a half.”

  Theresa continued walking.

  “Gareth, isn’t it?”

  Theresa was confused. Should she recognize the man? She paused just at the bench.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you from the neighborhood, sir.”

  “No reason you should. Actually, I just wanted to see Gareth.”

  Theresa decided to turn around.

  “How is Duncan, Theresa?”

  Theresa’s backing and sidestepping to turn quickened.

  “Please tell Duncan to mind his work. It is so very important for a growing family.”

  She got fully turned around and started to trot, jostling the carriage as little as possible.

  The man called softly. “Please do that, Theresa.”

  Her heart racing, she looked back. The man was not following. He just sat on the bench smiling.

  A few more bumpy yards along, she looked again. He was walking away in the opposite direction.

  She flew down the street giving Gareth the ride of his short life.

  At their house she swept Gareth out, tipping the carriage over where she left it, banged up the wooden steps two at a time, fumbled her key, and unlocked and slung the door open, whamming it against the inside wall. She whirled, caught the door on the rebound, slammed it and latched the deadbolt.

  She leaned back against the door and started to breathe.

  Huffing, and fighting tears, she looked at Gareth who was fussing against the jostling, heaving and whirling, and the noise of the door.

  “Shh-h-h-h…It’s okay…shh-h-h.”

  She laid him gently on the couch next to the phone and held him down with one hand as she dialed Duncan’s number at work.

  The phone rang as Bonnie walked to her office door, headed yet one more time to the law library.

  “Never fails.”

  She put down the books and legal pads she had so carefully balanced to be able to navigate the one floor elevator ride and two corridor stroll to the library. The phone rang again.

  She picked it up and forced her voice not to betray any frustration.

  “This is Bonnie Cummings.”

  “Ms. Cummings, this is Mr. Thompson.”

  At first she did not recognize the name.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “We met at the Ramada Inn.”

  “Oh, of course, what can I do for you, sir?”

  Still focused on her interrupted work, Bonnie was slightly bemused at Duncan Richardson’s insistence on the use of the pseudonym. His case was probably over with and he could not get very deep in the Pierce case. Immediately, she brought herself up short and felt slightly ashamed. Richardson perceived real risk and she had no right to judge the magnitude of it.

  “I tried to call Ms. Hawkins and…they said she was out of town. So…I had to talk to you.”

  Richardson’s voice was uncertain, halting in unnatural patterns.

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “I have to leave the case…I’m sorry. Someone threatened my wife and son.”

  “What!”

  “Someone threatened my wife and son. While she was walking him…he said to ‘Tell me to mind my work.’ He was a complete stranger…he called her and my son by name. It…really scared her.”

  Bonnie’s mind raced to find ways to calm him and keep him from shutting them out completely.

  “Mr. Thompson, listen to me very carefully. First of all, what that person did is a crime. Second, we are closing in on who probably sent them. Third, when we do, it will help to make your case.”

  “I understand…I just can’t…my wife won’t even go out of the house.”

  Bonnie was thinking this was one their few witnesses and she was about to lose him.

  “Mr. Thompson, I know how she feels. I know how you feel. You have to respect her fears, I do too. This…extortion just cannot be tolerated. It’s the kind of thing drug gangs do. It’s the kind of thing your job is intended to help prevent.”

  “That doesn’t help my wife keep from quivering at home alone.”

  “I know. Tell her this. As soon as Ms. Hawkins returns, the very minute she returns, which should be late today or early tomorrow, we will come to see her. I promise we won’t try to talk her into anything. We will just ask her about what exactly happened and talk to her about ways we can help her. Okay?”

  “I don’t have any problem with it…but she might not talk to you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Well…that’s it…I should go.”

  When he hung up, Bonnie stared at the phone. Questions whirled around in search of logic.

  …who besides someone at NSA would have done this…? if it was someone there, how would they know enough about the case to know Richardson was involved…? what did this “stranger” hope to accomplish if not intimidation…? if it was to intimidate, why do it now when the NSA general counsel had said there was never any intention to retaliate against Pierce…? but most of all, how did whoever this was know Richardson was involved at all…? could Richardson have let something slip at work…?

  She kept staring at the phone, thinking.

  …did they really stop eavesdropping…?

  Michael Carbajal sat at his desk feeling good. For the first time in the days since Holdredge had chewed him out for putting her in the embarrassing position of explaining to the Chief Judge that her office did not know whether it represented Cochran or not.

  “Don’t ever agree to having a hearing if you can’t tell the judge who you represent!” she yelled.

  Yelled. Actually yelled, at him, the best lawyer she was lucky enough to have on what she thought of as a staff.

  …who did she think she was…? did she think she was going to handle these cases herself…? that would be a trip…! she didn’t know the difference between evidence and argument…! next time she yelled she could just have all of these cases… then she can decide if she wants to chase good lawyers away…

  …all of these people are such idiots…the whole assistant U.S. Attorney’s job is an exercise in dealing with idiots…the plaintiffs and their lawyers who bring these stupid cases are the biggest idiots of all…this Pierce case is the best example of them all…a Swiss cheese of allegation and innuendo with no substance and no chance of getting to trial…and yet the idiot Holdredge had gotten up on her high horse and actually yelled at him over a piece of junk like this…well not any more…

  …the idiot plaintiffs’ idiot lawyers thought they had this big secret weapon… well not any more…the NSA security people had easily run down the identity of the fool that the idiot plai
ntiff’s lawyers were counting on…well not any more…

  …he had just seen to that…a little friendly and helpful conversation with the fool’s mousey little wife had taken care of it quite neatly…what was it, maybe ten sentences…? maybe fifty little words…so perfectly elegant, so…efficient…

  …what a piece of junk now…and Holdredge had actually yelled at him about it…well, not any more.

  Kelly pulled up to the café, jumped out, and trotted inside.

  “Kathy!”

  She emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “Hey, Kelly. Jannie called…”

  Kelly stopped her by waving her arms and putting a forefinger to her lips.

  A puzzled look settled on her face and she cocked her head to one side as if to ask a question.

  Kelly motioned her to come outside then quickly took her elbow and ushered her out the front door and into the middle of the untraveled street.

  “Kathy, sorry to be so dramatic. I don’t want to alarm you. This may be nothing at all. But it could be extremely important. I brought you outside because from now on you should assume your phones are tapped.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. And you don’t have to be on the phone either. You can be just talking within the pickup range of the microphone and they can hear you, assuming they are listening.”

  “But why?”

  “If they are doing it, and I’m not sure they are, it would be to find out if we have figured out that they are finding things they don’t want us to know.”

  Kathy’s anger started to rise again.

  “Kelly, you know what I think. They took my girl. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  “I do know. It’s just awfully hard to get evidence the court will swallow. The disks that I took back with me last time couldn’t be run on any computers. I’m guessing maybe the old portable in Samantha’s closet will run them. I came here to get it and take a look.”

  “Well, let’s go then.”

  Kathy went back inside and returned with her purse. She didn’t bother to lock the café. She swung her Ranger out from the curb and the rental car followed her down the main drag and out to the farm.