The Secret Target

by Dean Atwood

  “What’s in Crystal City?”

  “It’s not what, it’s who. Anne Upshaw is speaking at a conference there tomorrow, and I have an invitation.”

  “How’d you arrange that?”

  “I have connections.”

  “You continue to surprise me. What’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to find a way to tell her that her privacy is being invaded by the US government, and she’s being stalked by an assassin.”

  “I know your intentions are good, but aren’t you concerned she’ll think you’re a conspiracy nut?”

  “I’ll have to convince her otherwise.”

  “Do you want some help? I could join you. There’s a better chance she’d believe you if you were with an FBI agent.”

  “I thought you were concerned about interfering with Project Typhon. Besides, the FBI is involved with bugging her home. Why would she trust an FBI agent more than me?”

  “She won’t know which government agencies are investigating her unless you tell her. I am concerned about disrupting the task force, but since Agent Warren hasn’t been upfront with me about the operation, I can’t be blamed if I happen to stumble into a key person in his investigation as part of conducting my own investigation. Talking with her may be the only way I’m going to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

  “How would you get to Crystal City? The last train from Charlottesville for the day has already left the station. I know because I’m on it.”

  “It isn’t that far away. I can drive and be there in a couple of hours. When does your train arrive?”

  “I’m about forty-five minutes away.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Westin, but I booked the last available room.”

  “Do you have a large enough room for a guest to join you?”

  “There’s only be one bed.”

  “I don’t take up much space.”

  “My room won’t be assigned until check-in.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  “What will Blaire think when she finds out we’re sharing a room?”

  “I’m not planning to tell her, are you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “I’ll leave a message for you at the front desk. My reservation is made in the name of Sandy Foot.”

  Lieutenant Mad couldn’t believe what had just happened. She told herself it didn’t change anything. He still belonged to Blaire. But, the thought of him meeting her in Crystal City, put a smile on her face.

  ***

  The remainder of the lieutenant’s trip was stress-free — until the train was ten minutes from Crystal City station.

  Two men, in the seats behind her, were debating the economy. One of them said, “The Stock Market is at an all-time high. It’s a classic bubble that’s going to burst.”

  The other man replied, “Alright, you pull your money out, while I stay in and watch my money double over the next three years.”

  The subject matter was innocuous enough, but the sound of their voices going back and forth at each other grated on the lieutenant. The conversation began to sound garbled and muffled, which was causing her to feel disoriented.

  And, then it happened. The other voice began to speak to her. The one that had nearly driven her insane when the CIA had bombarded her with the microwaves from a mind control device. She put her hands over her ears. The words spoken by the men discussing economics were barely audible. The voice coming from inside her head was growing louder. In a panic, she looked wild-eyed around the passenger car. Was one of them operating an electronic device that was planting the message in her head? Everyone she looked at appeared to be guiltily staring back at her. Were they all in on it, together? She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth with her hands covering her ears.

  The voice repeated over and over, “You have to kill her, she’s a traitor ...”

  Chapter 41

  F BI Agent Thomason asked, “Do you mind if I smoke in the van?”

  “Yes, I do mind,” Blaire said.

  “Have mercy on me. I rode all the way from Charlottesville without lighting up because you said you didn’t want me to contaminate your car.”

  “If you must smoke, do it before we get into the van?”

  “Why? The security company isn’t going to give us any flack about it.”

  “Because I don’t want my lungs polluted with your second-hand smoke — that’s why.”

  With his nicotine-stained fingers shaking, Thomason pulled out a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket and tapped the package to withdraw a single cigarette. He hurriedly lit it up and sucked the fumes into his lungs. His facial expression changed from agony to deep satisfaction as he slowly exhaled.

  While they walked toward the van, a breeze came up and blew the smoke in Blaire’s direction. She waved her hand in a futile attempt to avoid the cloud. She repositioned herself so that she was upwind from him while he leaned against the vehicle to finish his cigarette.

  “Were you and Agent Glover close?” he asked.

  “We worked together for a few weeks. I’m sorry he was killed, but no, we weren’t close.”

  “From what I hear, he had a reputation as a ladies’ man.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “You know how it is with office gossip. Coworkers see an attractive man and woman working closely together and they’re automatically suspicious. A girl in the office sees an innocent touch or flirty conversation between the two of them and tells a friend. The second girl embellishes the story and tells another girl. Before you know it, the whole office is abuzz about an affair.”

  “Are you suggesting that there was something going on between Jeremy and me?”

  “No, not at all. I don’t pay any attention to gossip.”

  “For the record, our relationship was strictly business. Feel free to spread that gossip around to the dirty-minded boys in the office.”

  “No offense meant. I try not to be judgmental when it comes to workplace romances. Sometimes a man and woman working closely together develop an attraction for each other. It’s human nature.” He eyed her up and down in a way that made Blaire feel uncomfortable.

  “That’s really open-minded of you,” she said sarcastically, “but I keep my work and personal lives separated.”

  “I know you girls in the intelligence game are sometimes the victims of sexual harassment. But, you don’t have to worry about us FBI men. No siree bub, if it’s not consensual, it’s not going to happen with yours truly.” He gave her another smarmy look.

  Blaire rolled her eyes. “Good to know you FBI boys are so enlightened,” she said.

  Thomason took the last drag on his cigarette and flicked the butt to the ground with his thumb and index finger.

  “Are you ready or do you need another one?” Blaire asked impatiently.

  “That should hold me for a while. Why don’t you give me the keys and let me drive?”

  “It’s better if I drive. I know the way and I’ve met the security guard at the Upshaw estate.”

  “I think we’d look more like a real maintenance crew, if a man were driving.”

  Blaire ignored him and climbed into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and waited while Thomason struggled to fasten his seatbelt around his beer belly. She hoped this would be her last assignment with the pudgy, narrow-minded man with the disgusting tobacco habit.

  ***

  Thomason sat quietly in the passenger seat, basking in the nicotine high from his cigarette. Blaire stared straight ahead, partially lost in her thoughts, but sufficiently aware of her external surroundings to navigate the gentle curves of the two-lane road.

  Thomason’s insinuation that there were rumors about Jeremy and her, had hit a nerve. It was unusual for her to be regretful about anything, but as she thought about the precarious state of her relationship with QT, she was feeling twinges of remorse about her indiscret
ion. She suspected he had cheated on her with the homeless woman. Under normal circumstances, she’d confront him about it. But right now, circumstances were far from normal. It would be difficult for her to bring the subject up without rehashing her own inappropriate behavior. She didn’t exactly have the moral high ground to stand on. If QT had been unfaithful, she knew it was because of her actions. For now, she was stymied, but was confident she’d find a way to regain control of the situation.

  “Are we almost there?” Thomason asked.

  “It’s a couple of miles ahead.” She checked her rearview mirror and added, “Did you notice that pickup truck behind us with its high beams on? It’s been following us almost the entire way from the security company parking lot.”

  Thomason turned his head to look behind him. “I hadn’t noticed. It’s probably just an impatient driver. Slow down and let him pass.”

  Blaire eased back on the gas pedal and checked her mirror. The vehicle slowed down with her. She sped up and it kept pace.

  “I’m pulling over,” she said. “When it goes by, get the license plate number.”

  Blaire turned on her right direction signal and maneuvered onto the narrow shoulder before coming to a complete stop. The truck almost touched the van’s bumper before swerving by and disappearing around the next curve.

  “Did you get the plate number?”

  “No, it was going too fast.”

  “I don’t like it,” Blaire said. “We should call Special Agent Warren to find out if he wants us to abort the mission.”

  “We don’t need to bother him with operation details. It’s a case of road rage, that’s all.”

  “The FBI has domestic responsibility for field operations, so it’s your call. But, I think that truck was following us. For what purpose, I don’t know.”

  “It’s my call,” Thomason said, as though he was expressing an original thought instead of repeating what Blaire had said. “We’re going ahead as planned.”

  Without replying, Blaire drove the van back onto the road to continue to their destination. She kept her eyes peeled for any vehicles positioned on a side street or beside the road.

  “There it is,” she said, pointing to a driveway with a wrought iron gate that restricted access to a few car lengths.

  She turned into the entrance and eased forward to align the van with the speaker that was positioned in front of and to the left of the gate. She rolled down her window, pushed the talk button, and said, “We’re here to fix the security system.”

  “Drive to the next gate and stop to sign in.”

  The gate swung open. Blaire drove slowly down the driveway, following the bend around a clump of trees that blocked the view of the guard shack and the second gate from the public road.

  A young man in his twenties, wearing a private security uniform, smiled ear to ear when he saw Blaire. “I remember you,” he said. “It’s rather late for a maintenance call, isn’t it?”

  Blaire responded with an inviting smile. “Believe me, I have better things I’d like to be doing than working this evening. But, you know how it is with computer technology. There’s a constant stream of updates to enhance the security system and fix bugs. Some are deemed more urgent than others and have to be installed right away.”

  “Yeah, my smartphone is constantly telling me to press a button to install updates.” He glanced over at Blaire’s passenger. Thomason stared out the windshield without acknowledging the guard. “That’s not the same guy who was with you last time.”

  “You have a good memory. The other guy was promoted to an internal Information Technology job. He doesn’t do on-site calls anymore. The new guy started today.” She motioned with her head toward Thomason. “I can vouch for him. He passed our company’s background check before he was hired.”

  Thomason turned his head toward the guard and said, “Hi, how are you doing?”

  The guard handed Blaire a clipboard with a sheet of paper that had a place for a visitor’s name, date, time, and signature. “Have your passenger put his name on the sheet, too.”

  “Do you need to see his ID?”

  “Nah. If you vouch for him, he must be OK,” he said with an expression on his face that was akin to the look of a schoolboy with a crush on a pretty girl.

  Blaire recognized the flirtatious behavior. She knew the effect she had on men and used it to her advantage. “Much obliged,” she said and reciprocated by giving him a look of encouragement. “This could take a while. We have quite a few updates to install. I’ll see you on the way out.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said.

  She purposefully brushed her hand against his as she gave the completed sign in sheet to him and kept the contact while she said, “Will I need to check in with the other guards at the house? We’ll need to go inside to update part of the system.”

  “Nah, they’re Ms. Upshaw’s personal bodyguards. They’re gone with her this evening. I can follow you on my monitor and remotely unlock the door from here.”

  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. We have master codes to gain entry. I wanted to make sure I was doing what you wanted me to do ... following procedures. She looked up at him and slowly dragged her hand across his as she released the clipboard.”

  “Make sure you log in separately. If you both try to enter after a single sign-in sequence, a loud alarm will sound, and police cars will arrive in a matter of minutes.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “I’m here to help. If you need anything at all, I’m your man.” he said.

  Blaire smiled and said, “That’s reassuring.”

  The gate opened, and Blaire drove toward the Upshaw mansion, which was visible on the hill above them.

  “I wouldn’t mind living in this dump,” Thomason said as they approached the mansion.

  “It is impressive.”

  “Special Agent Warren told me Project Typhon is your first field assignment. You’re a natural. You had that young security guy panting like a dog. He probably would’ve broken into the house and installed the equipment for you, if you asked him to do it.” Thomason laughed at his hyperbole.

  Blaire ignored his comment. “I’m going to park next to the service entrance. We’ll enter the house from there. Cyber Analyst Karen Williams added your profile to the facial recognition system, so you should be able to enter without any problems.”

  “I’m not good with computers and electronics. How do I use the security system?”

  “I’ll go first. Watch what I do and repeat it. You’ve used the facial recognition entry in FBI facilities, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s almost the same, except it will ask for a pin after it recognizes your face. Yours is 9487.”

  “What do I do once we’re inside?”

  “We went over this in our walk-through this afternoon,” she said, a little annoyed. “Avoid looking directly into the cameras. You’ll need to act casual, like you belong there. Karen has hacked into the video system and will be watching us. We’re going to go to the utility closet first. That’s where the security system computer is located. Karen will do her magic so that on the internal recordings it will look like we spent all of our time there applying updates.”

  “Is it OK for us to speak to each other inside?”

  “There’s audio as well as video surveillance. If you talk, you have to say something that can be interpreted as normal conversation between security system maintenance personnel.”

  “Can you do everything you need to do from that closet?”

  “No, I’ll need to go to Anne Upshaw’s office. Were you listening at all during the walk-through?”

  “Just making sure we’re in lockstep. How will I know when it’s safe to move to her office?”

  “I’ll give you a nonverbal signal.”

  “I’ll follow your lead. You’re the expert on this computer stuff,” he said as he took his pack of Marlboros out of his pocket.

  “There’s
no smoking in the house, so don’t light up.”

  “I know. I’m not stupid,” he said and put the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket.

  Blaire wasn’t convinced by his comment. From her point of view, he was a complete idiot. She parked the car and said, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 42

  T he voice in her head stopped as quickly as it had started. The two men in the seats behind her were still jabbering about the economy, but it didn’t seem to bother her now. She moved her neck stiffly, avoiding any sudden movements of her skull that could revive the mental invasion. She half expected to find that everyone was staring in her direction, but none of the other passengers were paying any attention to her. Was it possible nobody had noticed her abnormal behavior?

  “We are now arriving at the Crystal City Station. Please remain seated until the train comes to a complete stop,” the voice said. The lieutenant was startled at first, but relaxed when she realized the soundwaves were coming through her ears and then being interpreted by her brain rather than originating internally in her head.

  Questions raced through her mind. How long had the attack lasted? Had someone on the train been responsible or had it been self-inflicted? What should she do next?

  She remembered the last time she’d checked the clock on her smartphone, it was 9:20 p.m. Since her scheduled arrival was 9:30 p.m., she concluded the ordeal must have lasted for ten minutes or less.

  Although the mind-control devices of today are extremely portable, she surmised the unit would’ve had to have been in very close proximity for the waves to affect only her and not anyone else in the first-class car. Of course, she also had to consider the possibility there was no foul play. The entire incident could’ve been a PTSD event caused by her own damaged brain.

  There wasn’t much of a decision to be made about what to do next. Her options were limited. No trains would be departing for Charlottesville until tomorrow. She could remain at the station until morning, hire a taxi or Uber to drive her home, or go to her hotel as planned. Her confidence had been shaken by the psychotic episode, but not enough to deter her from the task at hand. She decided to go to the hotel.