“Did you meet Bin Laden?”
“Yes.”
Surprised, Burton repeated, “You met Osama Bin Laden.”
“Yes, he was there.”
“What did he ask you?”
Jonathan pictured the tall slender bearded man in his Abaya, holding an AK-47 in one hand and a shepherd’s staff in the other. He had with him an English translator. “It was a very strange conversation, mostly philosophical. He didn’t understand why Americans thought the way they did and had such small regard for their souls. He was very curious about why the United States persecutes his people and why I would be part of such a murderous system. He spoke of divine retribution.”
“Did he say that they were planning an attack? Did he say anything about the World Trade Center in New York?”
“No, he seemed quite fascinated with how we thought and seemed more of a philosopher than a terrorist.”
“What else happened?”
“Nothing, after he left, I was rescued that evening.”
Burton looked over at the mirror and said, “Can I cut through the bullshit? An affirmative answer must have come through his headset, because he increased the intensity of the lights until Jonathan yelled in pain and then he quickly brought them back to normal.”
Burton held up a picture of Jonathan’s son Matthew. “Can you see this picture?”
Jonathan’s eyes were blurry, but he knew it to be a picture of his son. “It’s my boy, Matthew.” The thought of him being dead flooded his mind and he once again started to cry. “Where’d you get that?”
“Why did you kill your son, Mr. Anderson?”
Offended, Jonathan pulled against his shackles as if to tear into Burton, “What? What did you say to me?”
“I asked you why you killed your son.”
“You fucker, I would never hurt my children.”
Burton made the light more intense, making Jonathan try to turn away, but he couldn’t, the screaming didn’t help the pain. “Why did you kill your son and risk the life of your daughter? Is this cause of yours so important?”
“No, no, no!” he screamed. “The only way I killed my children was by not stopping them, by finding the emails too late.”
“So there were emails?”
“Yes, there were 2 weeks of emails from a user called Heliracer99.”
The lights became more intense, the red light moved from eye to eye.
“Why did you delete the emails and try to hide the trail?”
“I didn’t delete the emails!”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who could have?”
“Maybe someone from the inside.”
“So you think it’s someone from the inside?”
“I don’t know?”
“Why, are you so unsure?”
“Because I don’t know anyone who could hack that deep into our system.”
“Who trained you? How did they get you to turn?”
Burton then pulled out a device that looked like a stun gun that had several electrically charged sharp needles and stuck it a half inch into Jonathan’s chest. Jonathan contorted from the blow. “I asked you a question,” he said as he shocked him again and turned the light to a blinding intensity.
“I didn’t do anything,” answered Jonathan.
The agent turned down the lights.
“We have proof that you did. Now tell me who these other users are in this email and what significance they have to the operation.”
“I found the email just before the explosion.”
The lights were turned to full intensity and the agent stuck him again with the hybrid stun gun, this time on the side of the neck where it was much more painful. “You need to start cooperating.” He pulled it out of his neck and stuck him again. “They trained you well but we’ll break you, there are many other levels after me.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Tell me what really happened in Afghanistan.”
The drugs and the pain opened Jonathan’s mouth, “They hurt me.”
“How?”
Jonathan held up his right hand, “They cut off my fingers.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“No, they all wore scarves over their faces.”
“What did they ask you?”
“They wanted to know mission directives, the names of informants, and the intelligence on Osama Bin-Laden.”
“Why did you betray your country?”
“I would never betray my country.”
“You did when you divulged top secret information.”
“I had no choice.”
“We always have a choice, so I’m going to ask you again. When did you decide to join Al Qaeda in their war against America?”
“I didn’t join them.”
Burton hesitated, obviously receiving a communication through his earpiece. He smirked at Jonathan, turned down the lights and left. The doctor removed the tape from his eyelids put a soothing solution in each eye, unstrapped him and exited with the other agents.
Jonathan lay in the chair and fell asleep from the exhaustion and the after-effect of the truth serum. When he awoke, the door opened and William Reed came in by himself. He sat down and put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.
“You’ve had a pretty tough time these past months,” he said. “Do you miss your wife and children?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Do you want to find those animals who did this to them?”
“More than anything else,” Jonathan muttered.
“Then help us find those who did this.”
“Mr. Reed, I don’t know who did this. I’ve told you everything I know.”
Jonathan lay helpless and alone with his own thoughts of desperation. William Reed straddled a chair that he pushed to the side of Jonathan’s chair.
After a few moments, he broke the silence, “It’s all over the news network you know.”
Jonathan stared at him bewildered
“Someone’s leaked to the press that we have brought you in under investigation for the July 15th bombing. The world now knows that you’re a traitor. My experts keep telling me that in your own mind you’re telling us the truth, but we believe that you’ve been reprogrammed or brainwashed. Man, did they do a good job with you. And right now we’re the only protection you have. If I turned you loose, every true American would be gunning for you. And your wife and your daughter Carly, God knows what they’ll do to them. We have 6 agents guarding your home as we speak.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” answered Jonathan.
“Okay, then so be it! If you talk to us you’ll live. If you keep up this little game of yours I’m going to release you to those conservative animals out there and you’ll die. You’re forgetting that every American has the right to bear arms.”
“I want to go home,” answered Jonathan.
Chapter 10
Jim Burton and Harry Davison sat in William Reed’s posh office on the dark brown leather sofa in front of the Director’s desk. Bill Reed sat in one of his leather office chairs which he had turned to face the sofa. Reed was slumped forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his clenched hands under his chin. He sat up just enough to free one hand and spin a globe he had on his desk and mumbled, “Jesus Christ!” Then he started speaking as if he had just received a revelation from God, “We’ve got a real problem here boys. Someone’s on the inside blowing up buildings and leaking dog shit to the press. The President wants this resolved immediately and we can’t break the only real suspect we’ve got. Once the administration loses confidence with us, and they’re pretty close, we’ll all be on the street. Shit, it’s got to be him.”
Burton sat upright and nodded, “It’s him.”
“Then why won’t he talk?” asked the Director.
“It’s our own fault. He’s a tough one, we trained him.” answered Burton.
“He talked to
Al Qaeda, his very words.” The Director reached over and grabbed the transcripts from his desk and read Jonathan’s confession.
Burton smiled, “I think it was the decapitated heads that did it. He didn’t say it, but I’m guessing they killed those Israelis one at a time right in front of him. ‘Tell your mission’…..he doesn’t answer…..whoosh there goes another head….over and over until he broke. I’m thinking that maybe we need to get a little more primitive in our methods, you know cut off a few heads and leave them with him while he thinks about it.”
“Any more primitive and we’ll kill the son of a bitch. Jesus Christ, we beat him, drugged him, and practically blinded him and he still is convinced he’s innocent,” answered the Director.
“Yeah, but there’s still another stage. People can stand themselves being hurt a helluva lot more than someone they care about. Bring me his wife and then we’ll know for sure,” said Burton.
“Come on Jim, be serious. We’re not going to do that,” answered the Director.
“I’m just trying to help. We still don’t know for sure and this way we would.”
Bill Reed looked over at Harry who was staring into space and massaging his temples with his hand. Large purple veins surfaced on his bald head. “You’re awfully quiet over there, Harry,” said the Director.
Harry lifted his head but was slow to speak, as if the words were caught in his throat, “I think he’s telling the truth.”
“What?” scoffed Burton.
“I don’t think he was involved.”
The Director perked up, “How can we be sure?”
“I’ve interrogated hundreds of these fuckers down at Guantanamo, insiders trained at Bin-Laden’s camps and they all broke. With what we put him through, it would come out. We went through 5 stages with the guy. If he knew anything it would have been out by stage 3. All that stuff about being a POW was years ago and irrelevant.”
“What about the emails?” asked Burton. “He didn’t remember anything about the emails and then next thing you know, pooof! He remembers. There’s more to this guy than he’s letting on. I say we have another go at him.”
“The emails were different,” answered Harry. “He didn’t tell us about them, because he still had a hope that he would be able to solve this without us. They were his only line back to the terrorists. You got to remember we cut this guy completely off and he’s mad as hell.”
Bill Reed scratched his chin, “He didn’t remember much of anything until we introduced the Remionize 44 and then we got it all. It came out of him like diarrhea. The stuff’s like ex-lax for the soul, it’s impossible to lie with that stuff. I’m beginning to think like Harry. I think we got it all and I’m 95% sure he wasn’t involved. But shit, I want him to be. Actually I need him to be.”
Harry got a diabolical twinkle in his eye, “Then let’s make him. Who the hell will know the difference? The guy’s finished here at the agency, the press has already indicted him, so let’s say he confessed. He won’t remember anything now that the Remionize has worn off. Put the confession together, and have one of our experts forge his name.”
“There were too many witnesses down at Guantanamo and everything is on tape and video,” answered the Director. “And the last thing I need is a conspiracy.”
Burton remarked, “Let me just follow your thinking. If he truly didn’t know anything, then he really was framed and we have a much bigger problem. It would mean that there’s someone in here who has the ability to hack into the agency mainframe, someone with access to our most secret programs and a terrorist who could be any one of us who knows a helluva lot more about us than we do about them. This is pretty frightening stuff. What is the press going to think when we let this guy go? And what if he talks, you know Meet the Press, 60 Minutes
?”
“He’s not going to talk,” answered the Director. “We’re not going to let him leave here until we are certain of that. We’re going to divorce ourselves from this guy and as long as he doesn’t talk, the Press will draw their own conclusions. All they will be able to do is speculate and he’ll be the nation’s #1 suspect, because we fired him. And yes we’ve got problems that have terrifying ramifications for national security,” answered Reed. “If it’s not Anderson, then there’s no doubt there’s someone on the inside who’s responsible.”
“Any luck with tracing those email leads he gave us?” asked Harry.
“Nothing,” answered the Director. “They’re always one step ahead of us. For all we know they’re going to blow up Langley next. That’s about as secure as I feel this minute. But right now, we have to focus on Anderson. He’s a political hot potato. We’ve brought this guy in and the whole world knows we brought him in. The interrogation was thorough, and we have to close this up and end our relationship with this guy, clean and final. The last thing we want is another crazy fucker on the inside with all the tools of the CIA trying to get even with everyone. We’ll buy him out, and do what it takes to scare him to keep him quiet. We’ll use Jim’s suggestion and give him a direct reminder that cooperation is the only way to keep his wife and kid safe. And then we need to keep the press away from him. The media is all over this fucking thing!”
Harry scratched his chin, “You said something really interesting. And I’m thinking crazy here, but what if we let Anderson stay and give him the tools to flush out the insider?”
“It’s too risky, and what if we’re wrong,” answered the Director. “If there’s the remotest chance that he’s involved, we need to strip him of all our resources and push him to the outside before something worse happens. But that doesn’t mean we don’t watch him when he’s on the outside. This guy is a computer genius and he’s going to want revenge. The smarter approach is to monitor his every move. Wire his house, put transmitters on his cars, bug his computer…..the works. And let’s get all this done while he’s convalescing here. He’s got a couple of weeks before those bruises heal. If he’s involved, he’ll lead us to his friends, if he’s not, maybe he’ll solve the whole thing for us. The only down side is if he goes to the press and it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t do that, understand?”
Burton nodded his head.
“Why don’t we just take him down? It will be clean, final and he certainly won’t be talking,” asked Harry.
Burton and Reed ignored Harry’s comment.
The Director stood up, “All he’s got left is his wife and little girl. We give him a buy-out and tell him that he and his family will have our protection, and we’ll make sure nothing happens to his wife and kid. If he talks to anyone, he’ll lose the severance and that protection and anything can happen. He’ll know what we mean.”
“You’re right,” said Burton. “This guy’s a liability and we don’t want him around, especially after the last month. Whatever loyalty he had to the agency is long gone.”
“Okay, we have a plan,” said the Director. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
After Burton and Davidson left, Reed called PD McVay, “Get in here right away.”
PD was out of breath as he walked into the Director’s office.
“Sit down PD.”
PD took a seat.
“How’d it go?”
“He’s a tough one. But we’re getting there.”
“How angry does a person have to get before he does what we want him to do?”
“A whole lot angrier than he is now.”
“Will he get there?”
“Matthew’s dying may actually speed along the process.”
“What about his wife?”
“That’s the wild card.”
Chapter 11
Jonathan sat in the passenger seat of the black Chevy Suburban, heading for his Occaquan home driven by agent Dave Snyder. He was in a state of shock. He didn’t hear any of the words Snyder was saying, patronizing words like, “It will work out for the best, and there will be lots of opportunities for someone with your skills.” His mind couldn’t comprehend i
t. It was unbelievable! Six months before, he was the Deputy Director of a special anti-terrorist unit sequestered in Virginia and now he felt like he had been hit between the eyes with a sledge hammer! He was out of a job, terminated for cause, a cause he had nothing to do with. The six months had been a nightmare he wished he could awaken from. He had lost his son, lost his relationship with his wife, he had been tortured, humiliated and then fired. He could hardly fathom the brevity and absoluteness of his meeting with his supposed friend PD McVay.
“Close the door and have a seat,” said PD as Jonathan entered the room. PD didn’t rise from his large executive seat and grimaced when he saw the bruises and welts on Jonathan’s face and the patch over his left eye.
Jonathan sensed the seriousness in the room and took a seat, thinking that he was going to receive an apology for how he had been treated, an apology he would accept, knowing the nature of the business he was in.
PD picked up a stack of papers and scanned the top page before speaking, “As you now know we have been conducting an internal investigation on the July 15th bombing.”
Jonathan nodded, “PD, you have to listen to me. I had nothing to do with it.”
PD continued, “This event has been a source of embarrassment to the President because of the belief that there was collusion with the agency and the administration feels that this is something that could have been prevented. And by your own admission, you found the information that would have prevented the attack too late and then at a later date you withheld critical data from our investigation. I’m here to inform you that the CIA has decided to terminate their business relationship with you, effective immediately.”
“What are you talking about?” answered a bewildered Jonathan. “I didn’t have anything to do with the bombings. Come on PD, don’t make me the fall guy.”
PD continued without listening, “I can’t talk specifics, but as we have indicated there were findings in the investigations implicating you and we are going to place you in a holding area until your wounds have healed and then escort you home. Of course, we want your continued cooperation with this investigation and we are willing to call this a ‘resignation for personal reasons’ if you agree to the terms of a separation package. You’ll also see that we’ve been quite generous and will pay you three years salary plus benefits and provide protection to you and your wife until this settles down and you find another position.”
Perspectives, An Intriguing Tale of an American Born Terrorist Page 10
