by Nathan Roden
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”
Jack stood up quickly and ran a hand back through his hair as he began pacing behind his desk.
“Fucking Eckhart. He went over my head, the fucking cocksucker. He called Washington and spoke to the Deputy Director. He tried to blame this whole situation on RCI. He knows the Bureau and the Pentagon are scrambling to keep this thing quiet, and he’s smart enough to know that if he provides them with a sacrificial lamb he scores points for himself and submarines me at the same time,” Jack said.
“Eckhart will be here in an hour,” Jack continued. He stopped pacing and stood behind his chair. “Will that be enough time to look over what you have?”
“I’m not even sure this is the best time. You’re pretty wound up right now. This is… well, I’m not even sure if it helps anybody. It doesn’t change anything, Jack. But it’s the truth. And it hurts.”
“There isn’t going to be another time. What do you have?” Jack asked.
Babe placed the hard drive and a single sheet of paper on Jack’s desk.
“There are range markers there for a few videos; just for a feel. Background stuff.” Babe said, getting to his feet. “The last one is pretty tough.”
“You’re leaving?” Jack asked.
“I’ll be right outside when you’re through,” Babe said.
Babe knew that he had marked sixteen minutes of footage on the videos. The door opened after thirty minutes.
“Babe,” Jack said, quietly. He turned away and left the door open.
Babe eased into his seat as Jack slumped into his chair. Jack rubbed his eyes with both hands and exhaled heavily.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“It was just a story, before. Reading his journal was like reading a screenplay or something—except I knew that kid. Not that well, of course. But sometimes you meet these kids and they’re respectful—they’re smart, they have good manners, and you just know they were raised right. You see them a couple of times and you just want to hug them, because they’re good kids.
“They make their daddies proud. Daddy shows their pictures and brags on them to everybody at work. They love their Mommas. They hug her and kiss her, and go on and on about how great her meatloaf is, and Momma knows that the reason God put her on this earth is to be Momma to great kids like this….and—fuck me…”
Jack turned away.
“I’m sorry Jack,” Babe said.
“I started to…I didn’t know if this was what you wanted me to look for.”
“This is exactly what needed to be found,” Jack said.
Babe raised his head when he heard Jack pick up the phone and punch a speed dial key.
“Jack Englemann in Boston, for the Director’s office,” Jack spoke into the phone. “That is correct.” A brief pause. “The Leland case. Yes. His cell line, I understand. Thank you.” Another brief pause. “Yes sir, Jack Englemann. I have some new materials regarding the Leland case and I believe it will be in the best interests of all concerned that we meet with Pentagon representatives at the earliest possible opportunity. Yes sir. I would strongly suggest Mr. Blackledge and Mr. Babelton be present. Thank you. Yes sir. Anytime will be fine, my home phone or cell. This is priority in my office, as well. Good night.”
“Shit, Jack. Really?” Babe winced.
“I’m getting older and more tired by the day, Babe. I can’t trust my second in command. I’m going to need to lean on somebody before this is over.”
Babe had never seen Jack overwhelmed. But it seems that he was looking at just that right now. And there was no way he was going to run away if he could help Jack at all.
Jack’s intercom buzzed and Lucy announced Russell Eckhart’s arrival. Babe got to his feet. Jack waggled a finger in his direction.
“Uh-uh. I’m sorry, Babe. Your fucked up new position starts today.”
Babe nodded slowly and swallowed hard.
Russell Eckhart entered the office. He was surprised to see Babe there. He nodded in Babe’s direction, “Babelton.” He nodded to Jack, “Jack.”
Babe returned the nod and sat back down. Jack did not stand. He made a show of shuffling papers and spoke without lifting his eyes,
“Sit down, Russell.”
“I take it you’ve heard from the Deputy Director, Jack. I’m sorry but you left me no choice. The liability of this office—”
“What you have done with your childish, self-serving, back-stabbing little display is of little importance to me, Eckhart. What I do care about is a dead twenty-seven year old boy who was one of ours. The only thing we can do for him now is try to protect his memory and try to save his family from any more pain. All we have standing in our way is the FBI and the Pentagon having a fucking pissing contest. And— ”
Eckhart got to his feet.
“What the hell right do you think you have, speaking to me like this in front of this boy, Jack? You’re trashing me over protocol? I not only have a right to an opinion, I have an obligation to the Bureau to act in its best interests and to make sure that proper and legal procedures are followed. For that, I make no apologies. Do you think I’m the only one who knows that Leland was passed through RCI? No, of course you don’t think like that. It’s your baby, and nobody has an ugly baby, right?”
“You’re talking out of your ass, Eckhart. RCI has a track record that even you can’t piss on, and this system will be integrated in every state in the fucking union no matter how much that chaps your balls,” Jack said.
“You’re reading too much of your own press, Jack. You don’t even see what’s coming do you? It doesn’t make a goddamn bit of difference what the track record is—your precious little outfit run by your roommate and two boys. You have the entire FBI, The Pentagon, and God knows how many scared politicians pissing down their legs over one dead kid. So, they blame the whole damned mess on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the failure of diagnosis, and the ‘failed experiment’ that is RCI. They internally announce the shutdown of RCI along with the resignation or early retirement of SAC Jack Englemann and it all goes away. It goes the fuck away—Big FBI funeral, Big Military funeral. Wave the flags, snap off the salutes and pass the tissues.”
Jack bolted to his feet.
“So is that the script you’ve written for this whole thing, Eckhart? You’re so full of shit. How many times are you going to bring up their ages? Huh? The entire psychiatric community is throwing drug after drug at these kids; PTSD is eating their fucking lunches. These are boys, not machines. These kids are pulling way too many tours in hostile territory, PLUS they’ve been living in a violent, virtual world since they were shitting their diapers. And we continue to use fifty-year-old men and hundred year-old methods to try and understand them.
“You know damn well that RCI had nothing to do with this, and if it didn’t exist we wouldn’t have the mothers’ cooperation. Mitch Leland never mentioned that damn operation to anyone and neither did anyone else. What the fuck does RCI have to do with any of that?” Jack said.
“I feel as badly as anyone about your daughter, Jack. But you’ve allowed this boy—”
Jack jumped toward Eckhart.
“You son of a bitch!”
Babe leapt to his feet, knocking Jack off balance with his shoulder. He grabbed Jack by the arm.
Babe whispered into Jack’s ear.
“Jack, you can’t. This is what he wants.”
“What makes you so sure RCI doesn’t figure into this?” Eckhart screamed. “They’re boys, Jack. What if all these applicants are getting a free pass because they’re being Okayed through your system? What if they’re not being looked at long and hard enough by the Bureau psychologists because they have the Jack Englemann seal of approval? Shit. We can’t even be sure that this Leland kid didn’t make up that whole Army operation story. What if he was a complete psycho? What if he was hearing voices? Who the fuck knows?”
Eckhart was pacing now.
Jack stood still, and his posture relaxed.
Babe loosened his grip and looked down at Jack’s white knuckled fists.
“I’ll give you a heads up, Eckhart. I just spoke with the Director this afternoon. We’re getting a meeting with the Pentagon and I’m guessing that it’s going to be quick. I’m sure you will have your say. I can assure you I will have mine. Dismissed,” Jack said.
Eckhart turned and left the office.
Jack glared after him.
“I am going to get an extremely shitty Christmas gift from that man,” Jack said.
Babe was not even able to smile.
“Are you still with me, Babe? I’m afraid it’s not going to get much better than that for a while,” Jack said.
“Well, my comfort zone has followed Elvis out of the building, but if you need me—I’m with you.”
Eighteen
Babe paced in the enormous vaulted ceiling hallway of one of the wings of the Pentagon, each footfall cracking like gunfire. He fingered the visitor pass lanyard around his neck for about the hundredth time, wondering again if it would be taken away from him before he exited the building. He had every intention of keeping it if he could do so without being wrestled to the ground. Tom collected lanyard passes, and Babe relished the thought of parading a Pentagon visitor pass in front of him. He would let Tom have it, of course. Maybe.
Babe sneaked another peek into a nearby conference room where Russell Eckhart was also pacing. Eckhart referred to his notes and then paced some more. He whispered to himself.
Shit, Babe thought. He’s fucking rehearsing. What a dick.
Something unusual was going on but Babe had no idea what it was. Before anyone was called upon to assemble in any type of session, Jack, Jordan, and a few of the FBI Washington staff and Pentagon staff had been quietly ushered into a conference room. The doors were closed behind them and attended by two Pentagon Security officers. Babe and several others who were left out in the hall took chairs and waited. A few ducked out an exit to smoke. Russell Eckhart occasionally appeared at the doorway of his rehearsal space to glare toward the guarded doors.
Forty-five minutes later the double doors opened to the sounds of men who were no longer under the pressure that existed when they had disappeared inside. There were a few chuckles and lots of handshakes. When everyone had reached the hallway, the FBI Director asked for everyone’s attention.
“I would like to thank you all for coming out today. The unfortunate fallout from the event which brought about this meeting has touched many lives, as well as many of the agencies of this country that we depend on every day. On behalf of the FBI and the United States Army,” the Director looked toward the assembled Pentagon officials, who nodded their approval, “we have agreed upon a fair and equitable approach to assist the family of a troubled young man. The effects of war have long troubled the minds of men, and dealing with these effects will never be an exact science. Remember this, gentlemen, when you hit your knees tonight. Thank you.”
Many in the crowd jumped when the next brief moment of silence was punctuated by a loud bang. It was the sound made when Russell Eckhart slammed both of his hands into a door lever as he stormed from the building.
Babe, Jack, and Jordan pushed back their chairs after devouring one of the finest steak dinners in the country. Jack treated them to the celebratory meal at a posh Georgetown restaurant. Loosened belts made room for a few welcome beers.
“This feels like the end to a rather anti-climactic day, but I’m not complaining,” Babe said. “I’ve been a nervous wreck for a week.”
“I played a hunch because I didn’t want to roll the dice with a full blown conference of Bureau and Pentagon,” Jack said.
“That was going to be too many players, too many careers, and way too many emotions. After I convinced the Director to get me thirty minutes with four principals from Bureau and four from Pentagon, I thought we had a good shot at wrapping this up.
“It’s a week before Christmas and everybody wanted this over and done. I passed around the transcripts from the journal, but it was the video compilation you made up that did it, Babe. When that last scene froze on the screen, I looked around the room and I believe I saw every man there imagining that picture appearing on every television screen in America. They were more than ready to deal.
“I’ll be back here the first week of January with the Lelands, and everything will be taken care of: Hospital, doctors, the funeral, a financial settlement and an NDA, of course. The Bureau will be handling everything but you can bet that the money is going to be coming straight out of the Pentagon’s budget.
“The Bureau has shut down the investigation into the shooting incident. We’ve agreed to turn over the journal and any videos that are not original. That was to be expected, of course. I think we did the best we could.”
“No doubt on that one, Jack. That was a good call on your part, and RCI never came up, whatever you want to make of that,” Jordan said.
“Babe, I had every intention of having you in the room but the Director wouldn’t have it. He wanted Jordan in there. I hope you’re not disappointed. I told you from the beginning that we were a bunch of dinosaurs and the Bureau fights change as hard as it fights crime,” Jack said.
“Oh, hell no. I don’t think my career was going to take any giant steps by my pissing my pants in front of the Director of the FBI and a row of four star generals. I can’t say the same for Russell Eckhart, though. Did you see him after the Director dismissed everybody? I had been watching him rehearsing in that empty conference room for an hour. He was good and pissed,” Babe said.
“Russell’s been acting more desperate since his stepfather died, probably because Stemple was responsible for his entire career,” Jack said.
“Eckhart got hammered by that one. The old man got a cancer diagnosis—drove to the lake and got drunk, had a heart attack, and then launched his car into the forest—all in one day. I don’t know what to expect from Eckhart with Stemple out of the picture, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”
“I wish you had told me what to expect in that room, Jack,” Jordan said. “Oh, man, that video— God. That is going to haunt me.”
“I know. I’m sorry it happened that way but this has been…this has been all fucked up,” Jack said.
“Yeah, agreed,” Jordan said.
He raised his bottle.
“Here’s to getting shit-faced stupid and catching a cab to a nice hotel to sleep it off. Gentlemen?”
Babe and Jack clinked bottles with Jordan to the unison cheer of “Hear, hear.”
RCI shut down two days before Christmas Eve. The last day ended at noon. Jordan arranged this schedule. There was no business done, but Jordan and Samantha stopped by on their way out of town for the annual gift exchange.
Babe received mostly gifts for Mr. Pendleton, and he was glad for it. Babe gave Millie a classic Alabama University jacket and she gave him an Alabama jersey. For a dog.
Babe continued his tradition of gifting MG imported chocolates from exotic locations. This year he gave her one box from Germany and another box from Brazil. He learned the hard way that one box was not enough because MG would start on the chocolates as soon as she opened them. She shared them as well. Babe felt bad the first year they had exchanged gifts because MG’s gift lasted five minutes. If MG was indeed Super Woman, Kryptonite was made of chocolate.
Babe and Tom continued their tradition of exchanging gag gifts. Babe gave Tom a rubber vomit, a collection of lewd fake tattoos, and a pair of glasses that had the latex eyes of a caffeine junkie molded into them. Tom countered with a coffee cup with a ceramic dead mouse in the bottom, a set of extremely gross fake teeth, and a t-shirt that declared “I like Boobies”.
Babe’s gift from Jordan and Samantha left him speechless—a large framed print of Curt Schilling on the pitcher’s mound during game six of the 2004 American League championship game against the Yankees.
Schilling stood prepared to pitch, wearing the infamous ‘bloody sock’ from a hast
ily repaired and sutured ankle tendon. The game was one of the most memorable in Boston Red Sox history and one near and dear to the hearts of all Red Sox fans, of which Babe was a loyal member.
Babe arrived at Jack’s home at about sunset on Christmas Eve. He brought Mr. Pendleton at Jack’s request. Mr. Pendleton immediately embarked on categorizing everything in Jack’s house by smell.
“Help me keep an eye on him, Jack,” Babe said. “He’s potty trained pretty well but he hasn’t been here before and he isn’t neutered yet.”
“I can deal with that better than I can deal with anyone being left alone on Christmas Eve.”
“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” Babe said.
Jack chuckled.
“Damned if that name doesn’t fit. Look at that sad excuse for a tree. Do you do egg nog?”
“Yep. It was required in the state of Missouri.”
Jack handed Babe a cup of eggnog and sat a full bottle of rum down on the table between them.
“There. Adult beverage conversion optional.”
“Jack, do you mind if I go through your photo albums? I want to scan some copies if that’s okay.”
“Not a problem. I’ll get them.”
Soon the two men sat in the floor across the coffee table from each other with a sea of loose photos surrounding them. Babe had never seen most of these because this family had gone from thinking they had all the time in the world to having too little future to spend time looking back.
Jack provided a soundtrack for a number of the pictures. Some of the pictures were fading away, having come from Polaroid cameras. Babe found much of the collection to be hilarious.
