They'll Call It Treason

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They'll Call It Treason Page 5

by Jordon Greene


  “Two isn’t enough?”

  “Well, I thought it was before one was graduating high school and the other about to enter high school.” Martha laughed.

  Kate grinned lightly and thought about Ethan. She wished he would stop waiting to settle down. She wanted a child, a legacy. At this rate she was worried she would be past her prime before Ethan proposed. She pushed the worry aside and attempted to enjoy the small croissant in front of her.

  CHAPTER 8

  January 27 at 1:20 p.m. EST

  Washington, D.C. – FBI Headquarters

  The afternoon sunlight filtering into the office through the slatted window blinds gave the room a natural ambience. Richard Hunt lounged in his leather swivel chair, his polished black Cole Haan dress shoes propped atop a large maple desk.

  Across the room he watched the news stream by on one of two thirty-two inch LED monitors affixed to the wall. The NASDAQ had risen a few points. A citizen group down in Texas was threatening a recall of a two-term U.S. Senator. They claimed he had betrayed the public trust after news of the Senator hiring a prostitute on a recent "diplomatic" trip surfaced.

  The most notable news item, however, was President Rockwell’s foreign policy announcement. His face had been on loop since he announced his plans earlier in the morning. A phased withdrawal of US military forces from the Middle East starting in under a month. The media could not get enough of it. The withdrawal would mark the end of decades of military occupation in the Middle East.

  Both CNN and Fox News polls had shown widespread approval of the President’s plan. Richard, on the other hand, was not pleased.

  To hell with political pandering. Well, my job just got harder.

  On the adjacent screen, a collage of mug shots sat in neat columns. It was the list of current top priority suspects in various cases the Branch was following. The images scrolled by, highlighting pertinent information about the suspects as they vanished off the edge of the screen.

  His desk was well-kept. A keyboard and mouse occupied the center, a notepad and silver pen cup sat to his right. On the opposite end stood a tray of papers and a few tan folders.

  Richard was the Executive Assistant Director of the FBI’s National Security Branch, tasked with counterterrorism, counter-intelligence and preventing weapons of mass destruction from ending up on US soil in the wrong hands. At fifty-eight, he had worked his way up the ladder. Starting in college with earning his Doctorate in Information Technology, specializing in Computer Forensics. He had the degree from MIT hanging on the wall behind him to prove it. The rest was history.

  The years had been good to Richard even though his pale skin was showing signs of aging and his grey eyes had sunken slightly. Despite a pattern of male baldness in his family Richard still managed a full head of salt and pepper hair along with a trimmed mustache and beard. Through his years in the Bureau, Richard had remained in great shape, but his new desk job as Director threatened to tarnish his record.

  “The screening center is working around the clock and all leads are being carefully monitored,” Special Agent Aran Day stated, sitting across the desk from Richard. Day was an energetic “young’un,” as Richard sometimes referred to him, in his early thirties. His Thai blood was evident in his smooth, yet hard edged, features. His jet black hair was sculpted but messy. It was a look Richard often sneered at.

  Richard’s attention seemed elsewhere as Aran gave his report. The Director gazed around the room, mostly at the screens behind Agent Day. Aran was accustomed to his boss’s habits. He knew the Director was in fact paying attention in his own way. He could likely recite the majority of Aran’s report without hesitation, a talent Aran envied.

  “All known lines of inbound foreign and domestic communication are being monitored, sir, for any potential threats to the President and those in the line of succession,” Aran persisted. “We have streamlined our cooperation with the NSA to ensure constant access.”

  Richard slowly nodded his head. He remembered the bad publicity the NSA’s PRISM program had received in 2013 when the program was leaked to the press. After a few years of political theater, a few filibusters, a laughable congressional investigation and keeping things more tight to the chest, the program had restarted quietly in spite of public opposition.

  Congress was unwilling to go on the record as being weak on religious extremist and terrorist sympathizers. They soon authorized that a certain level of “invasion of privacy” was warranted to secure the nation, with congressional oversight of course. Richard and his counterparts at the NSA just ensured that only a small portion of their departments’ dealings were on the level. The rest, for America’s sake, was better left to his good judgment.

  Richard met Agent Day’s eyes, breathed in deeply and exhaled before speaking. “Every year when the President gives the State of the Union there are threats – multitudes of threats. Let’s be careful how thinly we spread out our resources. Focus on the legitimate threats.”

  “Understood, sir,” Aran concurred.

  “For now, anything not dealing with the President goes to local field offices to distribute the load.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It was going to be a long week.

  CHAPTER 9

  January 27 at 8:40 p.m. EST

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  “Yeah, you left me there all by myself, remember,” Kate reminded Ethan. After a much awaited dinner, Ethan and Kate had taken a quick stroll through downtown Raleigh. Despite the wintry temperature Kate cherished their nighttime walks through the city.

  A few stars twinkled in the sky, pushing past the city's glow. Kate pulled her jacket closer and tightened Ethan's arm around her waist. She wanted his body to warm her.

  Kate had just reminded Ethan of one of their first dates. One of the many shared stories from the four years they had been together.

  A few of her college friends had thrown a party they had planned to attend. However, after a taxing day at work Ethan had laid down for a quick nap. That had turned out to be a mistake. He had woken to a dark room, well past the seven o’clock event time.

  Ethan remembered waking up and realizing his mistake. He had felt so bad about it, and he only felt worse when he showed up as the party ended. Kate had been so angry. He paid for that mistake for weeks.

  “I know, that was a bad one,” Ethan cocked an eyebrow and wrinkled his brow at the memory.

  “You’ve done well since though,” Kate admitted coyly.

  “Good thing for me,” his words formed a cloud of mist as he spoke. He smiled at Kate as they passed by another couple. The street was dimly lit, adding to the amorous atmosphere. “I’m still sorry for that, by the way.”

  Kate leaned against Ethan, laying her head on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his, pulling in all the heat she could find. Her closeness told Ethan he was forgiven.

  He clasped her hand in his. Ethan kissed her on the head, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair. Everything seemed right.

  For a few more minutes they walked without saying a word. The closeness said enough. As they walked on to the property of the Old State Capitol Building Kate lifted her head to note the statues. The historian in her faintly surfaced in her eyes.

  As they walked through the capitol courtyard, they reached the location Ethan intended to make his move. The path led up the front steps of the aging structure. Its monolithic columns strutted high above them. The gentle curving of the courtyard pathways and perfectly manicured greenery provided a small escape from the urban feel of the city.

  Ethan stopped, keeping a grasp on Kate’s hand. Kate looked up at him from his shoulder with a slight look of confusion breaching the serenity on her face.

  “Kate,” he started, looking intently into her eyes. He let himself drift away into their brown charm. “We’ve been together for four years. Over those years we’ve had good times and a few bad,” he smirked as he spoke about the bad, eliciting a reserved smile from Kate.

&
nbsp; “One thing, though, has persisted through it all and grown every day. The inescapable fact that I need you and I love you.” Ethan paused, half trying to remember what he had planned to say as his heartbeat quickened. “I don’t want to spend another four years together Kate. I want to spend the rest of our lives together.”

  He could see the emotions rolling through Kate. A glad tear threatened to fall. As the smile on her lips grew greater, Ethan dropped to one knee, never letting go of her hand. He never wanted to let go. As his knee hit the ground everything else around them dulled to a faint blur. His focus was on Kate, her hand held over her mouth, almost trembling. The gentle bounce of her hair, the smoothness of cheeks.

  “We’ll have more good times and we’ll have more bad times, Kate. We’ll both make mistakes. Obviously, I’ll make more than you,” he managed to get a joke in, smiling up at her. Kate let a soft laugh slip between her lips while trying to hold back the tears.

  She knew what was happening, and it thrilled her more than she ever imagined it could. Her heart pounded as she tried to hold back the tears of joy. She watched as Ethan reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box.

  With a smile on his face, Ethan opened the box, revealing a diamond ring. Kate was not much concerned with the ring, but what it meant elated her. “Yes, Ethan, yes!”

  Ethan smiled, “I haven’t even asked you a question yet.” He paused, still gazing into her eyes. “Kate, will you marry me?”

  “Yes, Ethan, of course I will!” She had stopped trying to hold back the tears. It was all she could do to utter the words again.

  In a state of sheer euphoria he slipped the diamond ring onto her finger and rose to his feet. He placed his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him. The cold was driven away by their closeness, by the heat of passion inside him. He placed a hand on Kate’s cheek and wiped away a few tears.

  “I love you so much, Kate.”

  “I love you too, Ethan.”

  Ethan leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her tightly to himself. He felt the warmth of her body in the cold night, the tenderness of her lips. She was all he needed, and all he wanted.

  CHAPTER 10

  January 28 at 3:10 p.m. EST

  Norfolk, Virginia – FBI Norfolk Field Office

  “Have you checked this one yet?” Jason asked, holding up a document for Ethan to see.

  Ethan jerked himself away from his daydreaming. He blinked back to reality as he glanced up at the document. All he could think about was that Kate said yes. She said yes.

  “Not yet,” Ethan responded finally.

  A stack of incident reports and so-called leads had landed on their desks about an hour ago. Jason sat at his desk, swiveled around with his back to his desk. He propped his feet on a small coffee table Ethan had bought for the office a couple months back, reviewing the reports.

  With their wiretap in the Rivers case quiet they had plenty of time to go through unrelated casework. Ethan had been attempting to focus on his own stack, unsuccessfully. Instead, his mind kept running last night on repeat.

  Jason passed him the report while giving him a brief synopsis. “Well, Mr. Love-bird, it looks like Congressman Burr has had more than his usual slew of threats in the past week.”

  Thomas Burr was the Democratic congressman from Virginia's third congressional district. The liberal represented the areas encompassing most of Norfolk, Petersburg and Richmond. His brazen anti-gun rants and unconventional plan for community ownership of personal property had won over a surprising number of voters. Coupled with his recent filibuster of provisions from the National Defense Authorization Act regarding the treatment of prisoners and domestic surveillance, the man was an interesting amalgam of political ideals.

  “Seems that his Protect the Future tour has fueled some fires around the southern states,” Jason commented. A month prior, the Congressman had announced the Protect the Future tour. Essentially, it boiled down to a series of anti-gun rallies in traditionally gun-friendly states. A bold move by any estimation, yet definitely in character for the Congressman.

  Rumors around Washington claimed Burr was preparing for another presidential run. Jason could not understand how ticking off the southern half of the country was a promising strategy for a presidential hopeful.

  “He got an especially rattling threat a few days ago, warning him not to go to Georgia. It apparently shook up one member of his staff pretty bad,” Jason explained as Ethan continued to scan the report, his brow wrinkled. Jason waited a few more moments to let Ethan take in the details. “Guess where the Congressman will be tomorrow?”

  Without finishing the report Ethan was sure he knew the answer.

  “Georgia.” Ethan said confidently.

  “Atlanta, Georgia, to be exact,” Jason specified. “He’s scheduled to speak at the Democratic National Committee Winter Meeting tomorrow morning. But he also has a few other stops in the state over the next few days.”

  Jason referred to the calendar on his computer, “Looks like he has three tour stops planned in the state after the DNC Meeting. Georgia Southern in Statesboro, University of Georgia in Athens, and Mercer in Macon. Ah, no, he already spoke at Georgia Southern, that was last night.”

  Like all the members of the Virginia delegation, Congressman Burr’s office kept Jason and Ethan apprised of the Congressman’s schedule. It was an integral part of staying ahead of the game for them. He wanted to be sure that none of Virginia’s delegation joined the other political figures on his tack board. Knowing where they would be and when was imperative.

  Congressman Burr was a liberal by most accounts. Yet, unlike most of his Democratic colleagues, the man had remained a stalwart advocate for less militarism and what he called a more sensible defense budget. His stance remained constant regardless of which party was in the White House and had earned him criticism from both sides of the aisle.

  “So where are these threats coming from?” Ethan asked.

  “The one, or two rather, that rattled his staff were from a David Russell, according to Capitol Police.” Jason slapped open a file on the table.

  Ethan peered at the information scattered in front of him. A picture of a middle-aged Caucasian man with a long, scraggly orange-red hair and goatee, and rough features was featured prominently at the top of the file. The image of the man holding up a numbered sign conjured up thoughts of the town drunk in Ethan’s mind.

  “According to last night’s police report, he was arrested for a third DUI charge last night. Seems he decided to warn police that Congressman Burr was in danger in exchange for some leniency,” Jason explained, giving Ethan’s mental image of the man more validity.

  “Looks like he has ties to the Georgia Militia,” Ethan noted as he skimmed through the man’s bio. “They’ve been vocal opponents of Burr’s since he was elected.”

  “And violent,” Jason finished for him.

  Ethan shuffled through his stack of papers. He glanced through each sheet quickly, looking for other threats to the Congressman. He stopped near the back of the pile and read a few lines, then pulled a sheet from the stack and placed it on the table.

  “Looks like the Capitol Police didn’t think much of it,” Ethan wrinkled his brow, pointing to the report he had placed in front of Jason. “Their report only mentions that the Congressman was told not to come to Georgia by our Mr. Russell. They didn’t investigate any further.”

  “How about I send for a warrant to get his recent calls?” Jason said.

  Ethan grinned, seeing that Jason was on the same wavelength, nearly reading his mind.

  “Pack your bags, too. We’re going to Atlanta tonight,” Ethan informed him with a smirk on his face.

  “Huh? Why not let the Atlanta Field Office handle it, Ethan?” Jason asked. He was unlikely to win, but he tried. Tomorrow was to be father-daughter night, or at least he had planned, or – well, he had thought about it. They would do whatever Kallie wanted. It hit him suddenly that he really did not know wh
at that might be.

  “This may be related to our cases, Jason. And the Congressman is a Virginian. We owe it to him. It’s our job,” Ethan rationalized, trying to tie the thin strings together.

  Jason huffed, but did not argue. Deep inside he wanted to go; it was what he was bred to do. Investigate, follow the scent. It may be part of the case, maybe even a break in the case. Then again, it could be nothing, as it usually was. But if there was a chance it might amount to something, they could not afford to miss the opportunity.

  “Just promise me we’ll be back in Norfolk by tomorrow evening,” Jason asserted, his voice a little more annoyed sounding than he had intended.

  “Deal,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll give the Atlanta Police a call to make sure they don’t release our witness. You want to get the plane tickets?”

  “Sure, I’ll get them,” Jason acquiesced, hoping that this would be quick.

  CHAPTER 11

  January 28 at 3:55 p.m. EST

  Atlanta, Georgia

  The office held its usual buzz. Agents busied themselves about the open space just outside Agent Sean Abrams’ office. He ignored the noises as he prepared for security at tomorrow’s Democratic National Committee meeting down at the World Congress Center.

  Sean’s pale blue eyes barely shone in his reflection on the computer monitor as he scanned last-minute placements on a blueprint of the Center. It was his job to keep the delegates and visiting officials safe during the two days of high-strung talks and squabbling over party affairs.

  “Ah” Sean grumbled, taking another sip from the thirty-two ounce gas station cup next to him. So many times he had considered transferring to D.C., New York or some other field office. Atlanta was massive but it did not hold the excitement he craved.

  Instead, he frequented the nearby amusement parks and paintball teams for his adrenaline fixes. Being hunted down by another person was, albeit with a paint gun, exciting. He needed it; otherwise he was sure he would end up punching his partner before the end of the week.

 

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