Decency

by Rex Fuller

  “Yes, of course.”

  “We want to thank you for your prior support, first of all.”

  “Uh, act-chully I don’t recall contributing.”

  “Well, sometimes the spouse does without the other knowing, right?”

  “I’ve been divorced for twelve years.”

  “Oh, well…as you may know we are a worldwide society of science and medical professionals, such as yourself, devoted to wildlife conservation.”

  “All right.”

  “We are calling because we have a campaign to save the Chinese wild ass. Have you heard of the poor creature’s plight?”

  “No, I have not. Are you sure you have the right number?”

  “Well, let’s see, area code 304…”

  “No, this is area code 301.”

  “Heavens. I’m sorry to have bothered you Dr. Cochran. However, we would like to send you our brochure. May we?”

  “Of course.”

  “The address please.”

  “15004 Sawgrass, Columbia, Maryland 21057.”

  “Excellent, we’ll get that right out to you. It would mean so much if you could help our campaign.”

  “I always try to do what I can, Doctor.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “You’re welcome. Good-bye.”

  …yes, I bet you’ll do what you can…especially when it comes to poor suffering creatures…okay that went pretty well…that’s what he sounds like on the phone… nasal, clipped, hesitating…here goes…

  Kelly dialed Bonnie’s cell phone.

  “Hello.”

  “It’s Kelly. Can you put Duncan on?”

  “Sure.”

  “This is Duncan.”

  “This is Kelly. Can you write down some notes?”

  “Sure.”

  Kelly played a recording of the conversation she just had, and gave him the numbers to call and the words to say. If he didn’t get a connection, he was to call her right back. If it went as it should he was to call her back with that information as well.

  Richardson dialed the NSA phone number for Fitzgerald. The person answered with the nondescript, non-identifying location name used for public access lines.

  “Hello. Technical Assistance.”

  “Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “Yes.”

  “Glad I caw-utt you still at work…this is Dr. Cack-ran.”

  “Oh yes, Doctor, how are you?”

  “Never mind that…I just gave a deposition under seal to that lawyer… Haw-kins…she knows something.”

  “A deposition?”

  “Yes, look…I have to talk to you…meet me at Staw-bucks in the Old Post Office Pavilion in faw-ty five minutes.”

  “It will be hard for me to get there…”

  “No it won’t. The traffic is all the other way. Be there.”

  Richardson ended the call and called Kelly.

  “It sounded like he bought it.”

  “We’ll see. Thanks.”

  She hung up.

  …Fitz, you idiot, Cochran doesn’t know anything you didn’t tell him…

  Kelly shambled across the wide granite atrium floor of the Old Post Office, and bought a large coffee. Her shoulders were slumped and her hair slightly mussed. She seemed to just catch sight of Fitzgerald waiting at one of the tables, went up to him, and greeted him in a tired voice.

  “Hello, Mr. Fitzgerald, nice to see you.”

  “Ms. Hawkins. Tough day?”

  …if you sit right here until midnight neither of us will complain…

  “As they say, you don’t know the half of it.”

  She sat down at Fitzgerald’s table, leaned back and ran her hands through her hair, sighing heavily. “A lot sure has happened since you first came up to me here, hasn’t it?”

  “Well, as I mentioned, in this world nothing is as it seems. Your case pretty much melted away didn’t it?”

  “Yeah, we’re probably just tying up loose ends. Everything seems to be panning out the way you and Mr. Barrett explained it.”

  She blew on the coffee and sipped. “We just deposed Cochran under one of the in camera motions. Long deposition.”

  She took another sip. “He made some wild claims though. Said you urged him to make negative findings about Miss Pierce. I guess he really didn’t know it was a ruse.”

  “I believe we told you that in the meeting with Mr. Barrett.”

  …actually, you said Cochran didn’t know about it…

  She sighed heavily again and took another sip. “I may be getting too old for this business. Anyway, Cochran, poor soul, says it couldn’t have been a ruse. He says you did the same thing in other cases and they certainly weren’t ruses.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, he claims you wanted to make cases against, who were they…let me see…I think the names are here in my notes…”

  She shuffled laboriously through pages of notes on yellow legal paper.

  “Here we go, one was Foley. The other was Richardson. He says he can prove it. Says he recorded the conversations.”

  Fitzgerald slowly blinked his eyes and stretched as if he were bored to tears while the thought screamed in his head…COCHRAN YOU’RE DEAD…

  Kelly sipped again. “His lawyer stopped any further questions about that, though. You know, the Maryland statute on surreptitious recording.”

  “No, I don’t believe I do.”

  “Anyway, he and his lawyer are going to talk to the Maryland prosecutors and try to work something out. I’ll be shocked if they do…or if there are any recordings.”

  “He was probably just trying to create a diversion from his own incompetence.”

  “That’s sort of my feeling. Oh well, better go rest this tired body to be ready for tomorrow’s round.”

  “Who’s on deck tomorrow?”

  “I’d tell you if it wasn’t under seal. Don’t want to waive my position on it. Good seein’ you.”

  “You too.”

  Kelly struggled to her feet, patted Fitzgerald on the shoulder and ambled away. She reached into her trench coat pocket and switched off the tape recorder.

  …Fitz, you’re losing it…you didn’t even deny there were such conversations with you that Cochran could have recorded…

  22

  She did not bother to follow Fitzgerald. Instead, she drove directly to Cochran’s house and parked two doors down the street.

  A few minutes later Fitzgerald arrived and pulled into the driveway.

  Kelly raised the video camera and recorded Fitzgerald getting out of his car, going to the door, and walking straight in when Cochran answered. Then she pulled out of the parking space and drove away.

  …Fitz, you vicious bastard….you might be stupid enough to show up at my house when Cochran tells you there never was a deposition…sorry I can’t join you, there or here…

  “Fitzger…?”

  “Look Cochran, just one question. Have you been deposed by Hawkins?”

  “Who is…oh, the lawyer in the Pierce…”

  “HAVE YOU BEEN DEPOSED? ”

  “No.”

  …you lucky little SHIT…if only I had time to deal with you properly…

  Fitzgerald ran from Cochran’s house. Kelly’s car had already rounded the corner and he did not see it.

  …need escape contacts…got to get the device at the Pierces…

  When Kelly returned to the Marriott conference room, Bonnie and Jannie were there. Mason had already gone.

  “Hi folks. Had dinner yet?”

  “We had some sandwiches.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Bonnie finished up the Mason affidavit. I put it in the form of a declaration, like you usually use in federal court.”

  “Good work. I’ll read it after we’ve finished.”

  Kelly sat down and smiled broadly.

  “I just put Fitzgerald on audio tape talking to me. I told him Cochran said in a deposition that he Fitzgerald told Cochran to make negative findings abou
t Foley, Richardson and Pierce. He not only didn’t deny it, which he will have to do, but he went to Cochran’s house because I suggested to him there were recordings of those conversations. I video recorded him going in.”

  Bonnie’s eyes lit up.

  “If the Pierce diagnosis and admin proceedings were part of a ruse, he would have no concern about recordings of any conversations. Right?”

  “Exactly. I’ll bet on the Nebraska farm kid every time, even if the other one is FBI. I think we have enough for the protective order and I believe that’s all we are ever going to need.”

  …still no actual proof of murder…but there is only one way to have zero evidence at a crime scene…and if you play a good cop all week long…

  “What’s next?”

  Kelly explained they needed another declaration. Actually two. They would ask the Richardsons for statements. Duncan about Cochran’s false diagnosis and the way the agency used it and Theresa about the threat.

  “Bonnie and I will go up and bring them down here, probably together so Theresa doesn’t get fidgety, but we need to keep them separated while they actually say their own words so they can’t be cross-examined on that. If it goes that far.”

  “And then?”

  “Then Bonnie and I will work on the motion until it’s in the right shape. You won’t have to stay all the way through that, Jannie. You should be able to relieve your babysitter before midnight. Is that too late?”

  “It’s pushing it, but it should be okay.”

  “Then let’s get started.”

  Thinking out loud, Bonnie said, “If the motion is not in camera, you’ll have to mask any portions of the audio tape containing the witness’s names or you’ve waived the protection you’ll be seeking.”

  “Yeah, we’ll make a transcript of it and redact the names. As we go along, we’ll probably find other things like that we need to watch out for. Okay, let’s go get the Richardsons.”

  After the Richardsons’ papers were done and Jannie left, Kelly and Bonnie stormed non-stop through the typing, revising, printing and re-revising that accompanies every significant federal court motion. At just after 5:30 a.m., they finished the motion and legal memorandum in support of it, requesting the court on an emergency basis to prohibit disclosure of the identity of three witnesses to anyone except, if the court should find it necessary, to a specific representative of the Attorney General.

  The memorandum in support of the motion ran to forty seven pages, just under the maximum fifty. They attached an index, the John Doe affidavits, the affidavits of Kathy and Harlan Pierce filed with the original suit papers, transcript of the Fitzgerald to Hawkins audio tape, and a certificate by Kelly describing the video tape instead of the tape itself. Altogether, the papers totaled one hundred and twenty seven pages.

  Then they copied the package and tabbed the original and the copies according to the index.

  Finally, after 8:00 a.m., they fanned out the deliveries. They send a courier to the court and the U.S. Attorney’s office in Baltimore. Kelly took a copy to the Attorney General’s office in Main Justice and one to Senator Charboneaux’s Russell Building office. Bonnie took a copy to the NSA headquarters and called Angela Bonafacio from the reception desk. At Kelly’s request Angela personally picked up the copy from Bonnie’s own hand at the visitor control desk.

  Kelly went home and, the last thing before falling asleep, called Judge Reichardt’s chambers to alert them to the request, the emergency nature of it, and gave Carly Bennett her cell phone number to call to set up the hearing at the earliest opening on the Judge’s calendar.

  The papers accused Theodore Fitzgerald, Special Agent of the FBI, of espionage and violation of Samantha Pierce’s constitutional rights under the 5th Amendment to life and liberty, and suggested the unmistakable inference that he murdered her.

  The “private” line to the Director of the National Security Agency rang. It was a regular telephone line the number to which was limited in distribution.

  The Director answered, “This is General McKenna.”

  “Good mornin,’ General McKenna! How y’all doin’?”

  “Good morning Senator, it’s always a pleasure to hear from you.”

  “General, we have a problem. I have a copy of an emergency hearing motion in the Pierce case. Do you know about it?”

  “Yes, I do, Senator. I was briefed by the general counsel a few minutes ago. We have a team forming as we speak to assess it. Give me half an hour to call you back?”

  “You got it, sir. In the meantime, I’m callin’ the Attorney General.”

  “Very well, Senator.”

  The Attorney General’s private line rang.

  He answered, “John Corrigan, here.”

  “John, c’est Jean.”

  “How are you, Senator Charboneaux?”

  “We been bettah, my friend. Do you know about an emergency protective order motion filed in the NSA case in Baltimore?”

  “Just did learn.”

  “I called Chet McKenna. He’s forming a team and calling me back.”

  “I have the FBI Director Johnson and key folks headed this way. We should conference on a secure line when McKenna calls.”

  “Good.”

  John Barrett trotted into Angela Bonafacio’s office carrying a copy of the motion already studded with post-it notes and closed the door. Since receiving the motion he had trotted everywhere he went. He was not the only one. Copies of the motion were concatenating throughout the NSA and the Justice Department.

  “Angela, I have a meeting with the Director in twenty minutes. Have you finished?”

  “Almost.”

  “What do you see so far?”

  “This is astounding. If it is solid, there is going to be hell to pay. The legal arguments are novel. But I don’t think they’re unsound. They certainly came up with a ton of facts. If I was the judge, I would listen.”

  “When I looked at it I didn’t see any hard proof that Fitzgerald is a mole. Even if you believe every word, we have nothing except Samantha Pierce’s word. If you don’t believe her, you could argue she made the whole thing up.”

  “Agreed, except Fitzgerald’s reaction yesterday corroborates her.”

  “Okay. Come and get me if you find anything you think you should tell me.”

  Barrett left and took the elevator to the ground floor, exited and walked a long corridor to the restricted access elevator, punched in his code, entered and descended to the most secure portion of the NSA headquarters. He entered the facilities housing the Analysis division. These were the people who could make the computers pull intercepts by any combination of symbols.

  The head of Analysis, Michael Parkinson, was there, huddled with three of his branch chiefs over a copy of the motion. Parkinson was a tall, balding, bespeckled, horse of man, generally regarded as the single most intelligent individual in the entire agency. Trained as a mathematician, he had taught himself how to perform any job in the agency other than translation of languages.

  Barrett checked his watch. “Mike, we have fourteen minutes. Do you have anything showing Fitzgerald as a spy?”

  “Bottom line, no. But, so far we have thirty seven hits on ‘Green Lilly’ in any combination with ‘China,’ or ‘Fitzgerald,’ ninety three more if you add ‘Waddell,’ ‘Foley,’ ‘Mason,’ ‘Richardson,’ or ‘Pierce,’ and a wild card for any other name. We’re printing transcripts.”

  “How many are U.S. to China or China to U.S.?”

  “In the first group, twenty one. In the second, forty two.”

  “That many?”

  “Yeah, he apparently used a lot of transmissions even for dead drop delivered material.”

  “Any hard connection to Chinese authorities?”

  “Won’t know for another…” Parkinson checked his watch. “…maybe three minutes.”

  The group waited. Each of them counting the seconds.

  Parkinson donned his jacket. He and Barrett would have to begin th
e trek to the Director’s office immediately when the three minutes elapsed in order to make it on time.

  At three minutes and six seconds, the report printed.

  There was only one recorded intercept of Fitzgerald communicating directly with Chinese authorities. None for Green Lilly.

  Parkinson’s fingers flashed across the keyboard. The intercept came up on one of the several monitors. Fitzgerald was thanking the Chinese embassy for a wonderful party in honor of Chinese New Year.

  Parkinson turned to his branch chiefs.

  “Okay folks, keep at it.”

  He and Barrett headed off in the direction of the elevator.

  “John, they may yet find something. They’ll keep changing the criteria until they exhaust the permutations.”

  “Likelihood?”

  “Maybe…twenty three percent.”

  “Looks like it’s the Director’s call to make.”

  The Director’s conference room, like many of the work spaces at NSA, was a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, a “SCIF,” pronounced “skiff.” It was also equipped with additional detection, countermeasure, and surveillance devices, making it a SCIF within a SCIF. No one and nothing, not a person, thing, or electric impulse went in or came out without identification and assessment.

  All of the relevant Division Chiefs of the segments of Operations, plus Parkinson from Analysis, Barrett, Personnel, IG and Security were present waiting for the Director. The unneeded portions of the senior staff, Maintenance, Logistics, Comptroller and other offices were not invited and were unrepresented.

  They stood when the Director, General McKenna entered.

  “Please be seated, folks. Any luck?”

  The meeting attendees had been directed to address one question, what was the specific evidence of acts of espionage by Fitzgerald on behalf of China?

  The Director looked at each member starting on his left.

  Each in turn answered with a clear, “No.”

  “All right. Mike, what’s the probability Analysis will find something in what we have now?”