Special Agent

by Daniel Roland Banks

  “I guess he thinks he is a self-made man, pulled himself up by his own bootstraps, and all that.” I observed.

  “On September 11, 2001, his fiancée was working in Tower One of the World Trade Center, when Islamic jihadists attacked us in the name of Allah. She died in the flames and rubble.”

  I closed my eyes again.

  Sometimes, I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.

  “He joined the FBI pretty much the next day,” he concluded.

  Jack pulled in behind my truck and stopped.

  “Now, at this point in his career, he finds himself in Tyler, Texas, not New York, L.A., Chicago or even Dallas. No, he’s in Tyler, Texas. You need to cut him some slack.” Jack indicated.

  “Your right, I didn’t know any of that. I would point out however that you threatening to end his career could hardly be considered as cutting him some slack.

  “It saved a lot of talk. We don’t have time to waste on gentle suggestions.” He replied

  “So I can’t be open about my relationship with the Creator?” I asked.

  “Doug is anti-religion, not just Christianity, he hates all religions, but Christianity and Islam in particular. He’s almost an “equal opportunity” hater. He knows a lot more about hate, than he does about love. Try to be sensitive to that.”

  I nodded, as I climbed out of Jack’s car.

  “…And, be back in his office by three o’clock.” Jack yelled out his window, as he pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter 47.

  Christine seldom misses anything. She practically pounced on me, as I walked into our office.

  “Is Gary alright?

  “Yes. Why do you ask?

  “Duh! I’ve been watching the news all day. Are you alright? You seem… burdened.”

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “John, please tell me what’s happening with Gary.”

  ”He’s supposed to attend a meeting of the Righteous Army of God radicals this evening. We’re planning to follow him and provide whatever protection we can.”

  “Did they kill that D.A. in Longview?”

  “We don’t know. No one has claimed responsibility.”

  “Why would they?”

  “Whoever did it has an agenda. At some point they’ll want the world to know who they are and why they did it.”

  “I heard some sort of bomb was found in the Gregg County courthouse.”

  “Yes, pipe bombs, but they failed to detonate. They botched this whole thing. Thank God.”

  “They killed the D.A.”

  “Sadly, yes. He was only a target of opportunity. Their planning was very imprecise. They wounded the Sheriff over there, but he is expected to recover and he shot at least one of the attackers. The bombs were crude. The whole thing was sloppy.”

  “Do you think maybe they learned their lesson and they won’t try something like this again?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure this was a first strike and the only thing they learned is that they need to do better planning.”

  “Why? Why are they doing this?”

  “There have been several arrests and prosecutions of members of the RAGs in Gregg County. If the RAGs did it, In their minds it’s a political statement. They’ll make an annoncement ”

  “No, a political statement would be ‘I don’t like the current administration’ or ‘I vote for the candidate, not the party’. What they did is murder.”

  “I understand. I’m just answering your question.”

  “John, why here? There have been arrests and prosecutions of members of the RAGs all over the country. The jails and prisons are full of white supremacists.”

  “That’s the point. The leadership of the radical wing of the RAGs is right here in East Texas. They’ve decided they want to punish anyone who has opposed them. They are starting here, but they may be planning a bigger campaign. That’s the reason Gary is doing what he’s doing. With him inside, we’ll learn who their leaders and footmen are and we’ll be able to stop them.”

  “What is going on in this country? Why is there so much anger and open hatred?”

  I looked at her.

  “Christine, you know why.”

  She was thoughtful for a moment.

  “So many people are frustrated and dissatisfied with the way things are, they lash out at anyone who interferes or seems to oppose their personal beliefs and agendas. We are no longer united by shared values or beliefs. Division is the order of the day.”

  “Why do suppose that’s happened?”

  “Maybe because we try to accept so much diversity, we have no core values in common. We no longer teach the Bible in our public schools, not even the Ten Commandments. Most Americans say they believe in God, but they don’t attend church and they don’t read their Bibles. People who consider themselves sophisticated and erudite reject even the notion of God, any form of deity.”

  “True, as a nation we have rejected God from our culture, and replaced Him with many gods.”

  “Do you think He is judging our nation?”

  “I believe He has left us to enjoy the consequences of our choices. A nation that does not honor God will not be blessed by God. Without His blessing, grace, mercy and guidance, we are left to our own devices and vices.”

  “It’s getting pretty ugly isn’t it?”

  “I suspect it’s going to get a lot worse, here in this country and many other places. Everyone will do what is right in their own eyes. Under those conditions, anarchy is coming. Where there is anarchy, a strong leader will emerge and some form of order will be imposed, but it will not be God’s order. Think Hitler, Stalin or Pol Pot.”

  “Surely not here in America?”

  “Wait and see. Those who do not learn the lessons of history are doomed to re-live them. Those who reject God will be rejected by Him.”

  “How will we live in a world like that?”

  “You’ll live each day the same way we do now, by faith. God will always take care of His people, wherever they are. Take care of each other. Continue to be salt and light. Love your neighbors and try to lead them to the light. Continue to be faithful, until that day when he returns or calls us home.”

  Christine nodded.

  “Until that day…”

  America’s southern forests know no state boundaries. They stretch from Virginia in the East, to Texas in the west and include most of the southeastern U.S. The city of Tyler is surrounded by forest land and forestry is a major part of the local economy.

  By five o’clock that afternoon there were eight men hidden in and around a section of clear-cut timberland situated on a hillside about eighteen miles east of Tyler. I was there with Doug and six other FBI agents. We were all wearing tactical camo gear and four of the agents were snipers. We had chosen hiding places that afforded a line of sight to where Gary’s truck would be parked when he drove in. The land was torn up and littered with piles of brush, limbs and even whole trees that had been left to be burned. This was the same place that Gary had buried the body of a dead, black, drug dealer, in a shallow grave. That had made him look bona fide and been Gary’s passport into the radical wing of the Righteous Army of God.

  While it was supposed to be at least an hour before Gary showed up, we wanted to be sure we were all in position when the show started. There were FBI agents and Texas Rangers in unmarked vehicles at every road crossing and intersection within three miles of this location. Every vehicle approaching or entering this patch of woodland would be photographed coming and going. The Texas Rangers were helping us because we didn’t know who we could trust in local law enforcement. Once Gary was en route to the meeting location, he would be followed by multiple units carefully choreographed to move in and out without attracting suspicion. The problem now was the weather.

  The wind had picked up out of the north and the temperature had begun to fall, so had the rain. We drove in on the logging road in blowing dust. The rain started just as we emerged from the vehicles. By the time w
e had gotten into our hidey holes, the rain had become heavy. The cold front had arrived, eliminating any chance of our having a helicopter overhead. Without any eyes in the sky, we would be relying on surface vehicles to keep Gary in sight while he was being taken to the meeting location. The rain was both good and bad. It reduced visibility, but that worked both ways. While it made it harder to keep a vehicle in sight, it also made it harder to spot the tailing vehicles.

  By five thirty, it was nearly dark. The heavy cloud cover and rain had reduced our visibility down to a few hundred yards, and that was fading with the light.

  “Man, this is miserable.” Doug observed, as he scanned the area with his binoculars.

  “I’d think you would be pretty used to rain, coming from Eureka, California.” I pointed out.

  “Sure, but I didn’t spend much time belly down in a cold mud puddle like this.”

  He was right. We were lying prone in a shallow depression under a snarl of limbs and brush about fifty yards above where Gary would park his truck. The rain was pouring now and our little blind was filling with muddy water. Because of the sound of the wind and rain constantly lashing us, we could barely hear each other speak. I figured the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since earlier in the afternoon. In another hour, it would drop at least ten degrees more. The low this morning had been seventy eight. The high had been one hundred and one. The low temperature tomorrow morning was expected to be about fifty degrees, with a high of seventy three. We lay in the mud and tried to stay focused on the reason we were there.

  I was wearing an ear bud and it told me I had an in-coming call. It was twenty minutes until six o’clock. I punched the button to make the connection.

  “Hello?”

  “John, it’s me, Gary.”

  “Hey, Gary, what’s up?”

  “They’ve changed the pick-up point. They’re worried about getting stuck in the mud at the logging site. They want to pick me up from the old Stuckey’s parking lot on the I-20 service road. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, it’s a good twelve or thirteen miles from here. Where are you now?”

  “I’m about fifteen minutes away from there.”

  Doug was paying close attention to my conversation. I muted the phone for a moment and turned to him, yelling.

  “They’ve changed the location where they’re going to meet Gary. It’s the old Stuckey’s parking lot on the I-20 service road. That’s at least twelve miles southwest from here, and well outside the perimeter we set up. Can you scramble the surveillance group?”

  “I’m on it!” He said.

  Doug began sloshing to his feet and keyed his microphone as he started clambering over the limbs and brush that formed our blind.

  I took the phone off mute.

  “OK, Gary, here’s the deal. We’re sending units that way, but it will take a while for them to get into position. Don’t go directly to the location. Don’t drive in there until a few minutes after six o’clock. They changed the meeting location so they can’t expect you to be on time. When you do get there, try to stall for a while. Can you do that?”

  “Uh, sure, I guess. You are going to cover me aren’t you?”

  Yes, but we’re in position at the logging site. We’ve got units headed over there, but it will take a little time to get them set up so you won’t be able to spot them or notice them as they’re following you. We’ve got you covered. Just don’t get there early.”

  “OK. But you’re sure you’ll be there, right?”

  “We’ll have you covered.”

  “Ok, bye.” He broke the connection with his usual brief adieu.

  Doug was down by the edge of the logging road, assembling the agents from their hiding places.

  I crawled out of the muddy blind and made my way down to them, in the driving rain.

  “I told Gary we would be able to get people into position to cover him. I told him the truth didn’t I?” I asked Doug.

  “Shit!” He swore. “Yeah, he’ll be covered, but we won’t be part of it. Every available unit is hauling tail in that direction. Our transport won’t be here for several minutes. By the time they get here and haul us out, we won’t be able to get there in time to do anything. Where’s your God when we need him?”

  The other FBI agents fidgeted when they heard him address me that way.

  “This is my A-team and these are my only snipers. We don’t have any other riflemen in the field. The best we can hope for is to get someone near enough that if things go south, they can rush to Gary’s rescue with sirens screaming. Gary isn’t wearing a wire, so we won’t know who he meets. Somebody will just have to follow whoever picks him up and hope we don’t lose them. If they slip by us somehow…”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble. I told Gary not to go to the new meeting place early. He’ll show up there no earlier than six o’clock. Will that be enough time to get some units into position, or not?”

  “Yes, barely, but like I said, we won’t be there to cover him ourselves. I hate sudden changes I hate this damn rain, and this whole damn mess.” Doug indicated, with a wave of his hand.

  We were a pretty miserable looking outfit, standing there in the pouring rain with mud slowly being washed down our legs. The snipers had their rifles slung across their chests, muzzle down, under ponchos. There was nothing to do but wait for our evac.

  “A good plan seldom goes the way it’s expected to. As long as we get people into position to follow Gary to the meeting, we’ll still get what we need. The Rangers are pretty well equipped to provide cover for Gary.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but either way, it’s out of our hands now.”

  “Who knows, maybe when they pick him up, they’ll head in our direction.”

  “Well, the big SUVs with government plates that are coming to get us might be somewhat more noticeable than the unmarked surveillance vehicles, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, but we don’t have to actually take part in the surveillance. We can just sort of trail along and follow them to the meeting place.” I suggested.

  “I would like that a whole lot. Why don’t you ask your god to make it happen for us?” Doug sneered.

  CHAPTER 48.

  Doug’s radio eventually informed him there were units in place near each of the on and off ramps along Interstate 20, both east and west of the old abandoned Stuckey’s parking lot. There were other units on the county roads that could be accessed from the location. They had managed to get it done by five minutes after six.

  Our team had been picked up a few minutes earlier and we were headed directly toward I-20, figuring it would be the fastest route to get to wherever we could do the most good.

  “Does anyone have eyes on Gary yet?” I asked Doug.

  “Yes, and we have a unit on the other side of I-20, at the gas station there. They have a pretty good view of the Stuckey’s lot on the other side of the freeway. They say there is only one pickup truck there and it isn’t Gary’s. It’s too dark and raining too…Hang on…”

  Doug was interrupted by the radio breaking in.

  We were informed that another set of headlights had just swept into the Stuckey’s lot. Another voice informed us it was Gary’s truck arriving on the scene. It was one of our surveillance vehicles that had been following Gary.

  “Attention, all units! Our asset has just made contact with an unknown number of suspects at the meeting place on the I-20 service road. Stand bye. Agent Carter, can you approach on foot, without being seen?” Doug asked.

  “Affirmative, sir.” The agent replied.

  “Get in there and cover our asset.”

  I allowed myself a smile. Gary would see the humor in the statement. The agent who was on foot had been dropped off by the unit that had followed Gary to the abandoned Stuckey’s.

  “All units, be prepared to follow one or more vehicles when they leave the parking lot. I want at least two vehicles prepared to keep eyes on whoever leaves that lot…”

 
“Sir, our asset has just left his vehicle. He is getting into the other truck. Stand bye. OK. They are swinging around…I had to duck out of sight for a second…They are going north across the overpass, left turn indicator on, down the on-ramp to I-20, headed west.”

  “Unit nine, we’re right behind them sir.” Another voice broke in.

  “Attention, all units…stand bye, for further instructions.” Doug told them.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked him.

  “I just want to be sure they don’t get off at the next exit, and we can’t follow them with the unit behind them. They may be taking steps to spot a tail”

  “That was exactly my thought.” I observed.

  Sure enough, the truck carrying Gary to the meeting did get off at the next exit. The surveillance vehicle designated as ‘unit nine’ had to stay on the highway headed west. Our agent hidden near the exit watched the suspect vehicle drive across the overpass and go down the on ramp to I-20, now headed east. Another one of our units followed them back onto I-20.

  “Stand bye.” Doug repeated.

  When they got back to the place where they had first gotten onto I-20, they took the off ramp again and our surveillance vehicle had to continue east-bound on the highway.

  The suspect vehicle surprised us a little at that point. They drove straight over and across the county road and took the east bound on-ramp, back onto I-20, now just a couple of hundred feet behind the unit that had just been following them.

  “Unit seven, take up position behind the suspect vehicle.” Doug instructed.

  “Now we have a unit in front of them and one behind them. All the suspect can see is tail lights and headlights. Unit seven can clearly see their vehicle. If they stay on I-20 very long, we’ll swap out the tailing vehicle from time to time.” Doug observed, with a hint of relief evident in his voice. He was studying the illuminated map on the screen of his tablet.

  “All units, I want someone at every off ramp ahead of them. If they exit, another unit should be in position to follow the suspect vehicle wherever they go. The command units are approaching Interstate 20 approximately six miles northeast of the suspect vehicle. ETA is five minutes. We will stand-bye to assist as needed. Keep me informed. That is all.”