by Marvin Tyson
Chapter 15
Pat Thomas sat at a corner table in the Senate Cafeteria, notepad and laptop open, her eyes framed behind horn-rimmed glasses with plain lenses. She’d decided on a teacher look for her cover―black leggings, flowered tunic and flowing black cardigan, all of which hid her growing baby belly to perfection. The glasses were the final touch. She’d already made friends with several of the waitresses, who’d been impressed with her story of being an aspiring novelist looking for great Washington behind-the-scenes dirt. They were more than willing to share gossip that came their way, and bits and pieces went into the notes Pat was typing up.
She was quietly tapping away on her laptop as engrossed as if she were writing the next steamy novel by Harold Robbins. At the same time, she was still trying to pick up anything she could from the conversations around her in the dining room.
A Marine captain sat nearby, deep in conversation with another man whose suited back faced her, but they were talking low enough that she couldn’t hear anything. She got up to get a couple of napkins and, as she approached the table, the man sitting with the captain got up and walked away. She thought nothing of it; people went to the bathroom or had to make private calls all the time.
After the man in the suit walked away, the young Marine rose and approached Pat. Speaking a bit louder than others close by, he said, “I understand you are writing a novel about Washington and our military in the Middle East. Do you mind if I talk to you a moment? I returned from there not long ago myself.”
Pat just sat there, hands raised off the keyboard. She was surprised by his approach. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.
“I just had a conversation with Sammy Wood, Mrs. Thomas. You and I should talk, too.” He sat down.
Pat was stunned. Even with her years of training, she could feel the color draining from her face as he spoke. She couldn’t imagine how he knew her name, how he’d contacted Sammy, how much he really knew, and more important, how much his knowledge had compromised their mission and safety.
“How do you know Sammy? And how do you know my name?” she asked.
“That’s not important now. It’s enough for you to know that I know who you are, why you’re here in Washington, and that I’m on your side.”
“What’s your connection to all of this? The Marine Corps doesn’t have a spec-ops unit to watch retired domestic CIA, as far as I’ve ever known.” She watched his face closely, then smiled.
The captain grinned back, then looked over her shoulder, as if checking to see if they were being observed. “No, ma’am. I’ve been assigned to the Pentagon for several months after a little more than two-and-a-half years fighting with the Peshmerga in Iraq.”
“We have Marines fighting alongside the Peshmerga?” She was surprised at the statement.
“Not officially. It’s a strictly ‘volunteer’ mission that was proposed to me because of my language and computer skills. I was engaged to a girl from Kurdistan while I was at Annapolis, and she was a language instructor there. As a ‘fish,’ I chose a foreign language major after seeing her walking across the quad the first time. I checked her out and I knew the only way I was going to get to know her was to take her class in Kurdish languages.”
“Is she still at Annapolis?” asked Pat.
“No. We got married right before I was sent to Guam, and she went back home to fight ISIS. I went to find her when the opportunity came up. She was killed at a village north of Mosul two years ago, before I could join up with her.” His voice cracked slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” Pat said. And she truly meant it; she had a strange but good feeling about this Marine.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “I was doing covert ops with the Peshmerga, specifically the Asayish, or their intelligence service, mostly behind-the-scenes stuff. My special skills in computers and hacking made me a valuable commodity. I was able to find out for them exactly what the Turks and ISIS guys were up to before they actually did it, and I kept track of the Iraqi Army on the borders of Kurdistan as well.” He lowered his voice. “I found out some very interesting things about a certain U.S. ex-president while I was doing my snooping, too. I’ll share some of that with you later, when we have time for an in-depth discussion.”
“I’d like to hear more about that,” Pat said.
He leaned back in his chair, arms extended and hands gripping the sides of the table. His eyes probed hers as if he could gauge her character with his examination. Then he put his elbows back on the table. “Look, we don’t have much time, so I want you to know that some very dangerous people are poking around and suspect what you are up to. Unfortunately, seeing the two of us together won’t help. I don’t think they suspect I’m involved in your investigation but, just the same, don’t make any attempt to contact me. I’ll get any information I have to you or your friends, Sammy and De.”
The mysterious captain shook her hand, rose, and walked out. Pat was a little taken aback that her cover, and that of both Sammy and De, had apparently been so easily unmasked. The captain, or the people he worked for, were really good, and this exposure presented dangers she hadn’t counted on dealing with. For right now, she didn’t see any viable alternative to trusting the Marine.
Chapter 16
Shortly after he returned from his UN meeting, President Barker’s press secretary, Julie Edmond, strode into the reception area of the Oval Office. Her brunette hair, streaked with random ribbons of blonde, curled around her soft face and the collar of her white, long-sleeved blouse, which was tucked into a slim forest green skirt.
“Hi, Alicia,” she said. “Any chance I can see the president on short notice? Got some news for him.”
“Let me check.” Alicia buzzed through to the president and asked if he had time to see Julie.
“Sure,” he answered. “Send her in.”
Julie went through the door and walked up to the president’s desk.
“What have you got, Julie?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Marty Kert just issued a press release. Thought you might like to read it.”
“Just read it to me, will you please?” The president sighed, and Julie noticed how tired he looked. She pulled a print-out from her briefcase and read: “My fellow Texans, I know the concerns many of you have about the statements made by ex-President Jackson, and I assure you he does not speak for the current Texas administration, nor for anyone in authority in Washington. He is speaking as a concerned citizen who happens to have the press hanging on every word because of his status as ex-president. But his words carry no weight whatsoever with anything we’re concerned with. Let’s not make a mountain out of a mole hill. Thank you all for your patience and understanding.”
“Okay, Julie, thanks for bringing this to my attention,” President Barker said. “I’ll get some of my Cabinet and close advisors together to discuss the situation. When we get everyone together, I’ll want you and Duncan here as well. I’ll have Alicia call both of you when it’s time.”
“Thank you, sir,” Julie said, and she headed back to her office.
The president buzzed Alicia. “Alicia, please get my core advisory group together for a meeting in about thirty minutes, please.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll take care of that,” Alicia said.
Thirty-five minutes later, everyone, including AG Ralph Smart and Senator Frank Mitchell, gathered in the Oval Office. The president walked around his desk and stood facing them. “Julie, would you please read President Kert’s news release to the group?”
Julie read the news release again, then stood against the back wall.
“We’re dealing with former President Corbin Jackson, a tired and bitter old man who I think sees his ‘legacy’ being unfairly tarnished because the separation of Texas happened on his watch,” Barker told them. “We need to assure people that Texas will handle its own affairs, and we have to trust they will handle them appropriately.”
He looked around the grou
p. “We have to calm the waters here and in Texas. These statements by Corbin Jackson don’t seem to be anything but hot air, but they could cause some serious confusion and antagonism among citizens of both countries.” He paused, and let his gaze rest on each of them. “What are your suggestions, other than having this idiot assassinated?”
While everyone laughed a little nervously, no one was sure he was joking.
Harold Barker had been in the political game long enough to realize that his election victory came about largely because of the public’s perception that Jackson had bungled the whole Texas affair.
Julie Edmonds said, “I think you should call him in, sir. Ask him what is going on and what his purpose is, I mean. There may be far more to this than ignorance or bitterness, and we really need to know what’s going on with him.”
Most of the people in the room nodded, but then Attorney General Smart said, “In my opinion, we are making more of this than it is. President Jackson is a little unbalanced, if you ask me, and he has no real purpose at all, other than trying to reclaim his lost glory. Even acknowledging him will only lend credence to his wild claims. I say we just leave it alone.”
When no one else added anything, President Barker ended the meeting by saying, “I’m going to talk to Marty Kert and then decide where we go from there. Please be as available as possible in case I have questions. I’ll keep you all informed of my decision.”
The group, murmuring to one another, left the room. As Barker walked them to the door, he noticed Kimberly Himmel from DOE in the waiting room and waved her in.
“What’s on your mind, Kimberly?” he asked.
“Well, sir, the damage done in the computer break-in seems to be far more extensive than we first believed. Passwords for more than a thousand employees and contractors were compromised, and almost all their accounts have been accessed. We have no idea what the goal of the hackers is, or was, and we’re still trying to find out who it was exactly,” she told him.
“I assume this has now been confirmed to include nuclear materials and renewable technologies; is that right?”
“It’s strange, sir, but even though that info could have been had with a few keystrokes, the hackers don’t seem to have been interested. Storage facilities codes for enriched uranium, various isotopes, ores, and everything else was right there, and they weren’t even opened as far as we can tell. They could have accessed shipping schedules and routes, but they didn’t even bother to look.”
“If this was just nerds playing around, they would have focused on those things for shock value, if nothing else. These files are some of the most secure we have. Whoever did this must be extremely sophisticated or have someone on the inside helping them, right?”
“That’s the way we see it, Mr. President. Not only for them to get in, but to cover their tracks on the way in and out is very difficult indeed. Some of the sharpest minds in the tech world developed the security for those files.” She looked up at him. “We’re working very hard to find the culprits, and we have some of those same top computer minds working on this.”
“Most governments, especially those in China, Russia, and the Middle East, would be far more interested in the stuff these guys didn’t take than the stuff they did. None of this makes any sense at all, does it?” asked Barker.
“Not so far, sir, but it’s early in our investigation.”
“I’ve got a feeling we need to get to the bottom of this quickly, Kimberly. When someone goes to this much trouble, and risks so much politically for something that makes no sense to us, it must mean a hell of a lot to them. And the fact that we don’t know why scares the heck out of me.”
Kimberly nodded. “Me, too, sir.”
“Get all hands on deck for this project and let’s figure it out, Kimberly. Use whatever resources you need.”
“We’re on it, sir,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Chapter 17
Pat packed up her computer bag and headed out the door onto 2nd Avenue. An old black woman wearing the biggest gold sunglasses Pat had ever seen bumped into her, almost knocking her down and dislodging the huge sunglasses from the old woman’s head, slamming them to the ground.
“Damn! Why don’t you watch where you’re going, girl?” the old woman spat.
“I was standing still,” Pat snapped. “You ran into me!”
“I guess I’m ’sposed to move out your way ’cause you’re white, too!”
Pat mumbled an apology and picked up the glasses, which she handed back, discreetly palming the note passed to her from the old woman as they went their separate ways.
“I’ve still got the feel for this game!” Pat thought, smiling.
As she walked into the lobby of the Hyatt-Regency, she noticed a man standing alone in a corner near the front door. “He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried,” she thought. “You could at least glance at the cover of the magazine you kipe from the rack to hide your face, rookie. ELLE, really?” His incompetence didn’t detract from the idea that someone had uncovered the tracks she had taken great pains to hide. Was this guy connected to the young Marine officer, or was it something more sinister? This was not good at all.
She had a chance to look at the note when she got inside the elevator. “238C” was all it said, but that was enough. Pat took her computer and notebook to her room, then she came back to the lobby, stepped outside and hailed a cab.
The plans she and her team had laid out on the drive to D.C. included a secure meeting place at a large, busy apartment complex in Vienna, Virginia. It was a few miles outside the loop near the Wolf Trap Hotel. When the cab pulled up in front of the building, she paid the driver.
“Want me to wait, lady?” the cabbie asked.
“No, thanks,” she told him as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. As he pulled away from the curb, she started into the complex. It didn’t take her long to find “C” building, and she located and knocked on the door of 238.
Both Sammy and De were inside when the old woman from 2nd Street answered the door, and Pat noticed she wasn’t so old without the theatrical make-up.
Sammy introduced her as his cousin Garlene, “after her father, Garland,” he said. They had some information; the young Marine captain had apparently been keeping an eye on them after they got to D.C. and had passed along some info, but they had no idea what he knew about them or how he knew it.
“Yeah, he was sitting at a neighboring table in a mall’s food court when he pointed out two Asian men without looking up from his book,” De said. “We had seen the two guys earlier, but had no idea what they were up to, or why they were following us.”
Sammy added, “I think the good captain has an axe to grind with the Jackson regime. He was careful to point out that the person he was closest to in his life was his grandmother, and she had been dead for six months before he was rotated home out of Iraq. The Marine Corps didn’t make any effort to notify him when she died, and we think that may be one reason he’s on our side. But that’s just a guess, since we didn’t have much time for chit chat without being noticed. He said there’s a big money tie-in to the ex-President’s pot-stirring statements about Texas, too, because he knew large deposits had been made to an offshore bank account in Jackson’s name within minutes of each of his outrageous statements.”
“So this guy either has some knowledgeable connections in high places, or he’s setting us up for a rough ride. What do you guys think?” asked Pat.
“He wants to meet all of us together, but after we get back to Texas. I agree it’s too dangerous here,” Sammy commented.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll keep our schedule to meet one last time in a week. Then we head for Austin.”
Chapter 18
President Barker listened as he waited for President Kert to answer his cellphone. After a couple of rings, Marty answered. “Hello, Mr. President,” he said. “I’m sure you’re aware of Corbin Jackson’s latest statement.”
“Yes, Julie Edmon
d brought me up to speed last night. I still think we don’t have to worry too much about him, although I could be wrong, as I have been on more than one occasion,” he chuckled, “as you are no doubt aware.”
“Aren’t we all, Mr. President? I’m trying to keep things calm here,” Marty said. “I assume you’re doing the same in D.C.”
“That’s correct, and we have other issues to deal with as well. Marty, you may have heard that tomorrow I’ll be hosting a delegation from the Eurozone, along with representatives from the IMF and the World Bank, to plan relief efforts in Greece, Spain, and Portugal. The repeated financial bailouts have the Eurozone countries all teetering on the brink of financial disaster,” President Barker said. “Now they need help, and they can’t do anything without the assistance of the U.S. and, of course, Texas as well, since a separation of spending and appropriations was the first step in the separation of Texas and the U.S.”
“How can we help, sir?” Marty asked
“I’d like you to send a representative from Texas, Marty,” Barker stated. “Do you have someone who might fit the bill?”
“Yes,” Marty replied. “I’ll send Professor Amanda Sanderson, and will email you her credentials and a photo. Can you have someone pick her up at the airport?”
“Sure can. I’ll have a copter in the private area that will bring her directly here. Please have Norma coordinate with Alicia so we can get the logistics right.”
“I’ll do that,” Marty said. “Good luck with your meeting.”
The next morning, delegates from the Eurozone countries met in the White House to discuss the financial fiasco rearing its ugly head everywhere. The president was talking informally to two representatives from the International Monetary Fund and three from the World Bank.
He thought the two IMF officials, a man and a woman, looked grim and unhappy; the man, dark-haired and chubby, looked as if his suit was too tight, and the woman, slim and aloof, looked like her feet hurt.
