Once a Noble Endeavor

by Michael Butler

  “Nicky, I am with you. You do what you have to do and go where you must.”

  Chapter 9

  The FBI Academy on the Marine Corps base at Quantico, Virginia, is far removed from the “Main Side” or the downtown part of the enormous post. Main Side included a hotel, the base chapel, a large shopping complex, the officers’ club and a couple of other bars and restaurants. The academy was about six miles up a paved roadway past firing ranges, large expanses of green and brown woods, and artillery training sites. Nick finally arrived at the guarded FBI gate that separated the FBI and the DEA from the rest of the training area. The DEA complex beyond the FBI center was down the road about half a mile away in an isolated part of the post, surrounded by the FBI laboratory and deep forest traversed by narrow dirt paths.

  The primary FBI facility was a large, long brick structure with an entrance that included decorative columns and wide glass doors. The building was in a wooded part of the reservation surrounded by the weapons range, the track and gym facilities, and a simulated village used for firearms and assault training purposes. Inside the complex there was an enormous auditorium used for graduation ceremonies, training sessions, government meetings, and classified demonstrations of the latest technology used in intelligence and law enforcement. The campus was carefully guarded by the watchful eyes of the FBI police, who patrolled incessantly in their marked police cruisers.

  For the next five weeks Nicky had a private room and bath which included a single bed, a television, and a computer. His only source of social entertainment would take place in the “Board Room,” a combination snack bar and tavern off in a distant part of the building. The experience would be enhanced by his interaction with FBI agent recruits and veterans and the FBI National Academy, a class of cops from across the nation sent to Quantico to learn the latest in police professionalism.

  Nick was scheduled for three areas of training. His primary occupation would be as an intelligence analyst, but he would also qualify as a surveillance specialist and FBI courier. Those latter courses were offered by the US government elsewhere.

  While generally not armed, as an FBI employee, he familiarized at the range with a nine-millimeter pistol, the M16 automatic rifle and a 40-caliber semiautomatic handgun in anticipation of any assignments to an overseas combat zone or sensitive courier duties. Nicky also knew that after training, he would regularly carry his police-issued 9 mm firearm, which he was independently licensed to carry as a retired lawman.

  ****

  The intelligence course was cerebral and challenging. There was an enormous amount of emphasis placed on critical thinking and logic. Preliminary training included simple exercises. Brennan, as a student of language, always listened carefully.

  In one exercise Nicky was placed in the hot seat.

  “Mister Brennan, the class rules say that after you complete the written test you may go to the Board Room for a twenty-minute break. Do you understand those instructions?”

  “Yes, Mister Eister.”

  “I ask you then: if you do not complete the written test, are you permitted a break in the Board Room?”

  “I don’t know,” Nick answered. The group began to laugh softly at the answer.

  “Explain for the class what you mean, Mister Brennan.”

  “Well, Mister Eister, I think you did not provide enough information to answer the question.”

  “How is that so, Brennan? I was clear, was I not?”

  “Well, sir, we know what happens when you complete the test, but there is not enough information provided to know what is permitted if a student does not complete the test.”

  “Good, Mister Brennan. We therefore know there is information we do not know, is that correct?”

  “Yes sir, I think so.”

  “And we therefore cannot draw a conclusion on incomplete information—is that also correct?”

  “Yes, Mister Eister.” There was a collective loud “ah” audible in the small classroom.

  “Analysts must use information they have at hand and recognize the fact that there are holes or blind spots too!” the instructor added.

  “Can we extrapolate or provide our best guess?” a befuddled recruit asked.

  “Yes, with the proviso that the customer must understand that you have made an estimate. In the intelligence business we have no interest in the politics or favored outcomes. We conduct our analysis objectively, often based on percentages.”

  “So, Mister Eister, I could therefore say in response to your question it is likely the student who did not finish the test could not go on a break, correct?”

  “No, incorrect. You don’t have any information to support that proposition, and you are merely providing an opinion based on nothing more than your inference of what you think the answer should be.”

  The instructor continued, “Suppose I say all fruit grows on trees. Apple is a fruit, therefore apples grow on trees. Is that valid?”

  “Yes,” a zealous younger student with long blond hair and an avid manner answered.

  “Why?” Eister inquired.

  “Because the premise is right and the conclusion is correct. That is good logic.”

  “You are right that if the premise is correct the conclusion must also follow, but what is the problem with this logic?”

  Nick raised his hand and slowly answered the question. “I am not sure that the premise is valid, even though the conclusion is true. I believe this is bad logic.”

  “Can you explain, Mister Brennan?”

  “Yes sir. All fruit does not grow on trees, it grows on trees and vines, like grapes for example, therefore if the premise had offered that all fruit grows on trees or vines and that is absolutely accurate and apple is a fruit, it would be absolutely accurate to say apples therefore grow on trees or vines.”

  “Again, that is correct, Mister Brennan. Does everyone see that?” the instructor went on, “We must be scrupulous about language, meaning, and understanding, and the universe of a set, precision is essential. Suppose I say all medical doctors have an undergraduate college degree. It does not follow that all people with an undergraduate degree therefore have medical doctorates, is that clear?”

  “Yes, but why is that so logically?” a student asked.

  “Look at it this way: every MD has a bachelor’s degree, but everyone with a bachelor’s degree doesn’t have an MD. The set of one group intersects with the other.”

  “I think I see that,” the student mused.

  “This is an example of where the premise is accurate but the conclusion does not flow from the premise. If, for example, I had said that all the undergraduates in my set have medical doctorates and if that were true the statement that all the undergraduates are doctors would also be true in my set. But it would merely be restating the premise in different words.”

  The instructor continued, “Let’s offer the following: when it rains, the road out there gets wet. The road is wet right now, therefore it must have rained. Good or bad?”

  “Bad,” the blond-haired young man responded.

  “Why?”

  “Because there are many ways the road could get wet: a fire hose, a bucket of water, even snow.”

  “Correct. I think you get it now!”

  ****

  The training progressed intensely through the five weeks, and at the conclusion the FBI had a new crop of intelligence analysts now skilled in the art of logic and critical thinking. Some would become criminal analysts, some would become field intelligence officers and some would become counterterrorism operation specialists. Brennan would join the ranks of the last group.

  On the last day the class was left with one final thought on a large poster pinned above the blackboard in the classroom “because you know how someone does something doesn’t mean you know why.” Brennan, thoughtfully staring at the sign and trying to draw a practical analogy, finally agreed. Knowing how a plane crashed does not explain why.

  Before Nick could go home to Joann and
the kids, he had to take an abbreviated course as a surveillance specialist with a week of courier studies.

  ****

  The FBI wasn’t offering a surveillance specialist and courier course at its Quantico campus, so they sent the candidates down to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center FLETC near Brunswick, Georgia. The base was close to the South Atlantic coast and the warm salty breezes it provided. The facility handled training for many specialties. It was the training center for customs and immigration officers, the place border patrol agents learned the art and the place air marshals perfected the skills necessary to take action on an aircraft against a terrorist or criminal many miles above the earth’s surface. There were many federal trainees on the vast installation. The place had a modern gymnasium, a tavern, and several large brick buildings accommodating numerous classrooms and laboratories. The center of the training area had an enormous green and brown field which trainees traversed daily when headed to the classrooms. That late spring day the air was salty, moist and hot.

  ****

  Nick knew that shortly after he arrived he had several housekeeping duties he needed to attend to. He had to check in, get his FLETC credentials, register his vehicle, get a room, and get a pass to eat in the mess hall. The thought of having to do all that was itself exhausting.

  The drive south on I-95 had been long, humid and monotonous from the Virginia Marine Corps base, and the highway was covered with large trucks and double trailers dangerously weaving in and out of traffic, at times nearly running Nick off the roadway. The need for careful concentration on all the changing lanes of travel added to the stress and fatigue. Spent on his first night on the FLETC post, he fell into his single-sized bed in the tiny air conditioned room at nine and slept until five the next morning. When he awoke he felt refreshed and ready for a hearty breakfast, but decided to take a quick three-mile run first.

  After an invigorating shower and a bowl of assorted fruit and two scrambled eggs for breakfast, Brennan reported to the training classroom assigned to his group. The instructor was a tall character with a rather large frame and broad shoulders and a big mop of unkempt black and gray hair. Nick’s first thought was that such an enormous man would certainly have difficulty fading into the background during a surveillance mission.

  The teacher, known only as Specialist Baker, spoke slowly with a soft Southern accent and seemed to raise his large, thick, black eyebrows with the inflection in his voice used for emphasis.

  The training at first, it occurred to Nicky, centered on generalities. Baker explained that while technology had changed and complemented our ability to track an enemy agent or terrorist, “eyes on” was the preferred method of surveillance. “Eyes on” was the ability to watch a potential target and determine value and vulnerabilities. Sometimes the target was a building, but more commonly it was a person. When studying an installation, satellites and other devices could provide location, shape and layout, but eyes on allowed the agent or analyst to understand points of entry, suspects, targets, places where sentries or cameras might be posted and the procedures followed.

  The keyword used by all the trainers was “tradecraft.” Tradecraft was a term of art popular in the espionage business to describe the techniques and procedures used in the field by agents.

  “The essence of surveillance tradecraft is situational awareness, recognizing that which is going on around the agent and target and identifying threats, potential actions and danger,” Baker explained.

  “What does that mean?” Nick asked the specialist.

  “It begins with mindset: the specialist or agent must understand that threats exist. From there the agent must have ‘gut intuition’ and remain conscious of that feeling in the middle of a big operation that is constantly changing and drawing your attention to other things.” He stopped to allow the students to absorb the concept and then continued, “You must never be tuning out like talking on a cellphone while driving to a familiar destination and not even remembering the trip. Ideally you want focused awareness.”

  Brennan pursued the subject. “Are you saying the specialist should be acutely aware or basically prepared and observant?”

  “Focused, not intense. To be in a heightened level of awareness is exhausting and ultimately nonproductive.” He stared at the group and then added, “Practice this exercise and make it a habit when you enter a public building: note the exits and entrances, count or estimate the number of people present, study them, try to imagine what they are doing there, what they do for a living, look around at the layout and try to sense the mood of the people there and try to figure out their relationships and stories.”

  “Specialist Baker, are you saying that exercises like this make us better observers?”

  “Yes, but even more—behavior and demeanor is the essence of our tradecraft. Not only do we observe demeanor and behavior better, but we behave better.” He walked to the front of the room and pointed at a diagram showing a target and the surrounding specialists. “We must never feel out of place—‘the burn syndrome.’ If you feel like you are ‘burned,’” he said as he motioned towards the graphic, “that is to say discovered during a covert surveillance, you will begin doing unnatural things: hiding your face, hiding in a doorway like this one, or abruptly changing direction when the target approaches. You must maintain normality. That is what this training is all about.”

  The course became more interesting during the last two weeks as the instructors developed observational tactics and strategies; it finally fleshed out a basic principle of surveillance.

  The TEDD program stands for “time, environment, distance and demeanor.” TEDD works mostly on inexperienced observers and is often therefore used effectively against the specialist. So that if a potential terrorist sees the agent in different places, at varying distances, at different times, displaying poor demeanor—perhaps staring or nervously glancing or changing clothes—the specialist has been burned. The surveillance mission has failed and the result will be a poor or perhaps catastrophic outcome.

  The agent assigned to teach the class about TEDD was blunt in his approach. “If you get burned, pack up your shit and go to lunch. There is no future or any second chances. The target has you etched in his mind and knows he is being followed.”

  The TEDD principle piqued Brennan’s interest. “Mister Roland, we had a surveillance I studied on a case in New York. The target was a potential terrorist being observed in London by the Metropolitan Police. At one point he entered the underground, jumped onto the active tracks and crossed the tube and probably escaped in a train in the opposite direction. When did the cops get burned…when he ran, or a month earlier?”

  “Probably at that moment—a critical moment.” Roland paused and looked to the ceiling, slowly closed his eyes and added, “The target knew or suspected he was tailed and took that kind of dangerous action to escape or at least confirm he would be followed no more. This guy was up to no good, the cops probably had violated TEDD, and let me take a guess and say something big is going to happen!”

  ****

  The last week of the course was the fundamentals of courier work. A government courier is basically a “special mailman,” but FBI couriers were something more than mere mail carriers. The courier service had a certain pace to it; moving packages of information quickly and discreetly was commonplace. Since almost all of the content was sensitive, a top-secret clearance was necessary, and security was of the highest concern. In cases of national security the courier was armed and was required to have geographical knowledge and skills operating vehicles to avoid capture or interdiction. By the end of the week, instructors wove the principles of TEDD into the duties of this important specialist, and an afternoon on the emergency vehicle operation course capped the training.

  Nicky knew he was not to be a full-time courier, but from time to time it would be necessary that he transport highly sensitive information from point to point in connection with his counterterror operational specialty. L
ike he had in analyst school and during surveillance training, he paid careful attention to the subtle points and listened intently to the words of the experts.

  ****

  Brennan drove through the night to get home late Saturday morning. Joann, Michael and Elizabeth were anxiously waiting in the front room of their big house on the leafy lane that Nick knew so well. As he pulled into the driveway, the kids began to dance as Jodie stood with her arms outstretched. It is good to be finally home, Nicky thought as he opened the big hardwood door. There the whole family engaged in a group hug as Joann and Nick’s eyes filled with tears and the kids screamed in delight. Nick knew in his heart he was going through all of this for his family and many of the other American families at risk throughout the country and perhaps the world. On Monday Brennan would report to work, but the rest of the weekend was to be dedicated to his family.

  Chapter 10

  As Brennan rode the train to his new office and a brand new career on that warm, early Monday morning, it felt strangely unfamiliar to be working not as a boss, but as an entry-level employee, or at least close to that again. Nick knew that in spite of his age he had to develop the skill, knowledge, ability and experience in a new job as he had done so many times before. But this new career seemed to carry a constant urgency that the others didn’t. Sure, the Army and police provided dangerous challenges, but it was largely reactive and it came in measured doses. There was no constant demand for action. This, he thought, would be different. The train and subway trip took about fifty minutes to his destination.

  As Nick looked up at the tall FBI building at 290 Broadway in Manhattan near the federal courthouse, he thought of it as nondescript in many ways. There it stood shoulder to shoulder with all the other many big buildings in lower Manhattan—slightly more modern with lots of large windows, perhaps, but it still seemed commonplace in a large city like New York.

  As he entered through the enormous glass and metal doors, he moved to the left to enter with the other employees. Moving forward in the small crowd, he noticed a large sign hanging from the ceiling to his right which read “Visitors’ Entrance” with an entry lane through a metal detector. His first stop inside the cordoned-off area was with a heavyset security officer in a light brown uniform.