And one gullible FBI trainee, Gaia thought helplessly. Stupid, stupid …
“Tomorrow morning,” Agent Bishop concluded, glancing around at each of the trainees in the room, “your practical training program will begin. The smart trainees among you will realize right now that you can learn a great deal from what happened here today. You’re training for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and in my opinion there’s no higher calling, nor is there one more difficult.” She pointed. “Remember what Mr. Taylor taught you in this restaurant.”
The room was applauding; Gaia realized they were actually applauding Farm Boy and his brilliant maneuver. It was just too much. Everyone was clapping except Malloy—who was looking at her.
Unfortunately, it was very easy to read the man’s expression. His rough, leathery face was drawn; his eyes glittered in the restaurant’s harsh overhead lights.
This is what I was afraid of, Malloy seemed to be saying. This is why I didn’t want you-why I argued with Bishop. Because you haven’t got it. You aren’t FBI material, are you? You’re a fighter—that’s all you are. Just a girl with a good kick who’d put innocent bystanders at risk with her impetuous behavior.
Gaia stared back at Malloy. She didn’t know what to think. But she felt ashamed. It was the sound of the gun, she wanted to tell him. You have to understand—it was the gunfire. It was the danger to the girl. But he did understand, Gaia realized in despair. He knew all about Jake. He’d shown her the pictures. That was the whole point. He understood her completely.
Gaia broke her gaze away from his, turning her eyes down to the drab carpeted floor.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
FIELD BEHAVIOR DIRECTIVES
Attention, trainees: The directives outlined below constitute mandatory rules of behavior for FBI agents in the field. When interacting with civilians or local and state police, interrogating witnesses, collecting evidence, detaining or arresting suspects, or engaging in self-defense, pursuit, or combat operations, agents must adhere to the letter and spirit of these directives. Doing so ensures that the Federal Bureau of Investigation can maintain its unparalleled standard of professionalism, fairness, and effectiveness. Failure to abide by these directives can compromise investigations, endanger agents and civilians, and irreversibly impede and limit the bureau’s effectiveness in investigating crimes, protecting the innocent, and bringing criminals to justice.
1. IDENTIFICATION: Agents must identify themselves by name and refer either to the “Federal Bureau of Investigation” or the initials “FBI” before interrogating, questioning, arresting, or detaining anyone.
2. SEARCH AND SEIZURE: Agents may not enter upon private property unless explicitly invited. In circumstances where this is not applicable (for example, locked doors or presumably empty rooms or buildings), agents may not force entry until they have repeatedly solicited invitation by any and all means possible, including knocking on doors, inspecting windows, and loudly announcing their presence. Agents may not forcibly enter, search within, or seize items from within private property without first obtaining a court-issued warrant.
3. USE OF FORCE: Even in situations where civilian safety is at issue, agents may not instigate fighting or combat without warning and only if every other avenue of peacekeeping has been exhausted. Persons considered a danger to themselves and others may only be forcibly restrained after they have been issued more than one verbal warning, accompanied by the agent’s clear identification of him or herself and the bureau.
4. CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION: Agents arriving at or entering upon a potential crime scene must strictly obey the following rules: There must be no trespassing or physical contact with the scene in question until permission is granted by a licensed FBI criminologist, and any agent so arriving or entering upon such a location must call for assistance and criminology support immediately (or as soon as is reasonably possible after such particulars of the crime scene as a present or fleeing suspect have been sufficiently dealt with).
For more information, please consult your FBI training manual and other documentation available through the Quantico Base Command Offices.
extremes of physical and
mental endurance
THE LIVING NIGHTMARE
Here we go, Kim Lau thought, gazing up at the flawless blue sky. He stood on the concrete court, his black hair blowing around his face in the morning breeze. His hands were clasped behind his back, just like the other twenty-one trainees who were standing around him. They all faced the southern edge of the FBI campus’s outdoor courtyard, where Special Agent Jennifer Bishop stood on a raised platform, holding a microphone. A table in front of Bishop held a row of twenty-two holstered firearms and twenty-two FBI identification badges.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Bishop began. Her amplified voice projected loudly from a pair of enormous black speakers. “And welcome to the practical applications training course.”
A murmur of excitement ran through the crowd. Kim felt it, too. He had heard about the legendary FBI-PA course—it was often referred to respectfully in classes he’d taken—and now he was about to learn firsthand what it was all about.
“Behind me,” Bishop went on, her voice echoing over the courtyard, “is the battlefield where you will form teams and combat each other for the honor of victory.” As she spoke, she gestured behind her back, where they all could see a one-lane asphalt service road and beyond that the buildings and trees and houses of a small village.
Hogan’s Alley, Kim thought, staring across the road. There it is.
“We’re standing at the perimeter of Quantico’s state-of-the art 1.2-acre training arena, which we call ‘Hogan’s Alley,’” Bishop went on. “Hogan’s Alley is an artificial town—a complete, controlled environment right here in the middle of our Quantico campus. As you’re about to discover, the area behind me contains an exact simulation of a real town. It has stores, homes, parking lots, movie theaters, even a small park.”
Kim already knew a good deal about this famous “artificial town”—he had read a book about the FBI before coming here as well as studying their Web site. He listened as Bishop got to the interesting part.
The town behind me is filled with people. They’re all ‘simulations,’ too—actors and FBI personnel trained to play roles. They’re very good at their jobs, ladies and gentlemen—in less than fifteen minutes, when you enter Hogan’s Alley, you’ll be unable to tell that you aren’t in a genuine, living and breathing American town. It looks pretty, doesn’t it?”
Kim had to agree. Gazing across the road with the other trainees, he could see the crisp rooftops and gables of the town, standing proudly against the cloudless sky like a picture postcard.
“Don’t be fooled,” Bishop told them. The speakers magnified her voice. “Beneath that sunlit surface a nightmare is beginning. Something very dark and sinister has entered this place—a murderous presence that has already begun taking lives.” She pointed behind herself, looking out at the trainees. “Somewhere, lurking out of sight in the buildings behind me, a serial killer is on the loose. As we speak, the killer’s maniacal work has already begun, although the ‘#8217;townspeople’ don’t know it yet. All the clues necessary to solve the crime are in the town behind me. And it will be your job to track the killer and apprehend him. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the object of the game.”
Wow, Kim thought excitedly. He actually felt a chill go down his back even in the warm sunlight. This is the cleverest thing I’ve ever heard of.
As much as he was fascinated by what Special Agent Bishop was telling them, he couldn’t miss the emotions of his fellow trainees. To Kim’s trained eyes, their feelings were as obvious as the words on advertising billboards.
There was Gaia Moore, the pretty blond girl from New York by way of California—the one who so clearly had some kind of troubled past. Glancing sideways at Gaia, who stood next to him in a well-fitting T-shirt and dark workman’s pants, Kim realized that Gaia herself
probably didn’t realize how troubled she was.
“Serial killers,” Bishop said into her microphone. Kim turned his attention back to the podium. “As some of you may know, the pursuit of serial killers is a specific area of study I’ve pursued for years. I’ve designed this training course to make maximum use of all the forensic, psychological, and criminal information I’ve gathered in my study of the subject. So be prepared, ladies and gentlemen: the Hogan’s Alley simulation you’re about to begin is as close to the living nightmare of serial killer pursuit as you’ve ever been—as close as you can possibly get without engaging in the real thing. Prepare yourself for many sights and sounds that will shock you, frighten you, disgust you, unnerve you, and push you to your absolute extremes of physical and mental endurance. Prepare for a chess game where the chess pieces are human lives, and those lives will mean less to your prey than real chess pieces mean to you and me.”
Someone gave a nervous laugh right then. Looking down the line of trainees, Kim saw that it had been Will Taylor. To Kim, Will was even easier to read. Will was very attractive, Kim had noticed absently, but he wasn’t Kim’s type. Kim didn’t like all-American athletes. Glancing at Will’s handsome face, Kim realized that he was much more nervous than he’d let on. Clearly this was a young man who was used to succeeding—and who had developed a personality built around that trait. But Kim wondered how Will would react if he ever failed at something. It was an interesting question. There was something in the cast of Will’s eyes right then that told Kim that Will was frightened. And his fear was a secret. It was like he didn’t want anyone 4least of all Gaia, Kim had noticed the day before—to realize that there were cracks in his armor, situations he was afraid of, things he was afraid he couldn’t do. But at the same time he looked excited. His eyes shone, and his nervous laugh as he heard the descriptions of serial killers’ methods showed how interested he was.
“No doubt some of you are gamers,” Bishop was saying. The Hogan’s Alley exercise works very much like a computer or video game—it has the equivalent of a pause button. The town has its own game time—clocks will start moving in just ten minutes, when the bell signals game start. After the first round today another bell will signal that the entire town has essentially ‘paused’—and game time will freeze overnight, without the story moving forward at all. It’s PlayStation but for real.”
Directly next to Kim, on his other side, was Catherine Sanders. Kim had liked her immediately, from the moment he’d knocked on her dorm room door the day before. To Kim’s trained eyes, Catherine was clearly possessed of a precise, mathematical mind. She seemed to perk up as Bishop mentioned games, which made sense: it was already clear that machines and computers were second nature to her. Kim had watched her drive her Altima the night before, and he could tell: she knew how to make inanimate objects do what she wanted. Kim figured she was probably good with firearms, too. But there was more to Catherine that he hadn’t figured out yet.
“Always remember that investigation is about what you don’t see. Don’t be fooled by distracting foreground details; concentrate on uncovering the hidden truth that lies beneath the world you observe. Remember, too, the lesson you learned yesterday,” Bishop warned them, her voice amplified by the loudspeakers. “This game has rules, but just like in real life, the rules are constantly changing. The elements of this manhunt could be anywhere—not just here in Hogan’s Alley, but anywhere you go in Quantico, both on and off our campus.”
As Bishop referred to the lessons of the previous day, Kim could see Gaia flinching as if someone was poking her with a sharp stick. Kim couldn’t miss it.
“And finally, here’s the most important thing I’m going to say this morning. Behavior counts as much as winning, if not more. Those FBI personnel you’ll encounter in the game aren’t just playing parts; they’re also there to watch you. Believe me when I tell you that there’s nothing you can do or say in these 1.2 acres behind me—or off our campus, for that matter—that won’t be seen and reported. So follow the rules at all times. And pay extra attention to the ‘FBI Field Behavior Directives’ I’ve handed out. Entire cases have been thrown out of court and killers have gone free because arresting officers didn’t do everything ‘by the book,’ which is why we’re very, very serious about ironclad obedience to these rules.”
The sun was beating down on the courtyard—already the trainees were casting heavy shadows. It was going to be a long, hot day. Somewhere in the town in front of them were the clues to acts of complete inhumanity. Kim knew it didn’t matter one bit that the “killer” they were chasing was fictional any more than it mattered that the nightmare that kept someone awake night after night wasn’t real.
Can I do it? Kim thought seriously. I’m supposed to be so good at reading people. That’s what the diplomas say. But can I think like someone who’s brilliantly insane—and as dangerous as a wild animal?
“If you’re ready,” Bishop called out, “then step forward in an orderly fashion and retrieve your badges and guns. You’ll be grouped into five task forces, each with four trainees—the details are included with your badges. Get ready—and good luck.”
There was no cheer, no sound at all except the wind moving through the distant trees as the trainees all moved forward. Kim’s heart was racing. By his wristwatch, they had two minutes until the bell went off, starting the game. He walked forward with the others.
Can I do this?
Kim sincerely hoped so.
SUMMARY
[Note: Our trainees now number 20, down from 22 this morning; details to follow.]
Trainees assembled in outdoor court A2 as per orders at 0800 EST. They were reminded of the events of the previous day, specifically the emphasis placed on scenario evaluation and situational analysis.
As has been noted elsewhere, I have made several adjustments and enhancements to the Hogan’s Alley “serial killer pursuit” game (bringing it to version 3.1); this should address concerns arising from the previous version of the game, which was considered too shocking and unsetting in its details and realization. Agent Malloy and I have stressed the crucial importance of these games being as violently realistic as possible as well as the importance of the games maintaining a level of complexity and subtlety to match real-world criminal investigations.
Several trainees are receiving special observation as has been noted elsewhere; in light of their ongoing rivalry on the training fields during day 1 preliminary exercises (please see Sgt. Conroy’s full day 1 report, filed elsewhere), I have paired Gaia Moore and Will Taylor on the same team. According to all accounts Moore seemed disillusioned by her failure and by Taylor’s contrasting success in the “restaurant robbery” drill the previous day. It remains to be seen whether Gaia has the personal strength to swallow her pride and learn from her mistakes or the intellectual and physical ingenuity to grow to meet the formidable challenges to come. Pairing her with Taylor should exacerbate precisely those competitive/resentful urges that Moore is most troubled by.
Taylor remains an unknown quantity in several respects, as his attention has only turned to law enforcement relatively recently (see accompanying personnel file). For this reason, among others, I have placed Catherine Sanders and Kim Lau on Moore and Taylor’s team; the four have already met, and Lau’s remarkable psych-op abilities as well as Sanders’s digital skills might provide an interesting combination. Whether this combination is a recipe for success or for catastrophic failure remains to be seen, especially after the rather dramatic developments that ensued as day 2 continued.
Full report to come—Bishop, G44.
Gaia
Gaia Moore, FBI.
Special Agent Gaia Moore.
Well, today’s the day I say those words out loud for the first time. And try to sound like I mean it. I’m finally carrying a badge and a gun. (A fake gun, that is. I’ve had a long talk with myself, and I think I’m going to be okay around fake guns. They’re filled with paint pellets. Paint pellets don’t cause
senseless murders. Paint pellets don’t cut short innocent lives.)
I think my dad would be proud. Fake gun and all.
I was thinking about him as I crossed the highway and entered Hogan’s Alley. The gun straps under my arm, in a leather cross-draw shoulder holster that attaches to my belt and reaches around my back. You can wear the straps under a jacket and nobody will see them; that’s the point. The badge is folded in a leather case in my back pocket. I can feel the equipment’s weight as I move around. If Dad saw me right now, he would know—if he were standing right there, with his sad eyes squinting in the sun, he would look at me, and his first thought would be, Shoulder holster—right-hand cross draw. Government issue—probably a Walther automatic.
And would he be proud? Would this be what he wanted?
Would he understand why I had to do this by myself, without his involvement? I would like to know the answer to that, actually.
The simple fact is, this is much more confusing than I thought it would be. And it’s already much harder. Yesterday I thought, fine—just run faster, jump higher, punch harder, kick more accurately, and think more quickly. But there’s more to it than that—a lot more. For instance, I have to deal with people directly—I can’t run away from them while pretending to run toward them, the way I’ve done with so many people in my life.
With my teammates right now, that may not be so easy. I like Kim—he seems very sweet, and I can already tell his mind is like a laser, focusing in on everyone else’s personalities. And Catherine’s great. I wish they hadn’t seen me make a fool of myself yesterday. I thought Will was the big show-off—but it turns out that if anyone’s been showing off, it’s probably me.
Kill Game Page 8
