Perspectives, An Intriguing Tale of an American Born Terrorist (9 page)

“Get out of here,” answered PD with a guarded smile.

A few moments later PD picked up the phone and called the Director, “You have a minute? Anderson just left.”

“I’ll be right down.”

The Director walked in and closed the door, “Well?”

“I think he’s given us enough to start the process.

“Are we sure what went wrong?”

“Runyan assumed that they would be out of the building.”

“Was he out fucking Nancy?”

“Yeah, something like that. Not much we can do about it now.”

“The best laid plans….”

“If this goes sour over Runyan’s dick, I’m going to personally cut it off and put it in a jar on my mantle.”

“So I’ll start phase 2.”

“Do it!”

That evening Jonathan opened an Earthlink account. In the morning there was a new message.

“Take everything you need to survive. You will be all alone for a very long time.”

Jonathan turned the account over to the agency and never answered the email. The agency took the information and went silent.

Six months had now passed and the agency had rounded up a half dozen suspects from the July 15th bombing. All the national news networks bombarded the American public with highlights from Presidential speeches on security as he traveled nonstop across America. And Good Morning America and Daybreak kept Americans heartbroken and full of vengeance with special interest stories on relatives of the survivors. The Senate had appointed a special counsel who determined the White House’s handling of the affair was impeccable and the resilient U.S. economy had already rebounded. Surprisingly people were starting to feel secure again. The President’s approval ratings were at a new all time high and he had all the support he needed to continue to increase the national debt to keep America safe.

Work was going well for Jonathan and he found that he liked managing the training data bases. He continued mastering his programming skills in simulation and had actually programmed holograms that he talked to and kept him company at his town-home in Langley. Mary and he had decided to put their Occaquan home on the market in the coming spring and move in the summer, while Carly was out of school. This made Carly extremely happy, though anxious. Jonathan usually went home every weekend but decided one Friday to invite Mary and Carly to his town home. When Mary and Carly walked into the town home, they were greeted by three artificial super-agents, two simulated men and one woman, playing cards with one another at the kitchen table. Surprised, Mary and Carly were convinced that Jonathan had guests. Carly shyly grabbed onto his leg.

Jonathan introduced them, “Carly and Mary I would like you to meet my friends. Donovan, Marla and Chris, this is my wife and little girl.”

Marla smiled, “That’s quite the bear you have there.”

Carly clutched Bruiser, blushed and smiled.

Mary responded, “It’s nice to meet you,” and then whispered to Jonathan. “You didn’t tell me that you were going to have guests.”

“They’re not real,” chuckled Jonathan.

“What?” answered Mary.

“They’re not real. Carly, go shake Marla’s hand.”

Carly stared in disbelief and then crept carefully to the woman and poked her little finger through her arm, and then let out a shriek, followed by a series of giggles. Mary was not amused at all with what she interpreted as a bad practical joke and found the strangers creepy. “Make them go away,” she said and then she whispered. “It’s not funny you know, Carly’s having enough trouble without thinking her father can make her imaginary friends.” Jonathan just smiled and shrugged. Carly didn’t understand her mother’s concern.

“Daddy.”

“What sweetie?”

“Can you make me some friends that I can take home to play with Bruiser and me?”

Mary elbowed him in the side, “I told you.”

“I don’t think so. These folks are only for Daddy’s work.”

Carly’s bottom lip sagged to show her disappointment.

“Daddy please, Bruiser and I want to have a tea party,” but before her father could answer, Mary answered for him with a firm “No, now Jonathan make them go away.”

Jonathan hit a key on his laptop and they were gone.

*****

All of Jonathan’s correspondence with his unknown email friend ceased after he talked to PD and the agency began monitoring his email. Jonathan was sure that his confidant had figured out that he had been betrayed and had gone into hiding, but his unknown friend’s words continued to ring in his head Take everything you need to survive. To be safe he began smuggling programs, business cards, contact lists and directories out of the agency on memory sticks. He also bought a new lap top identical to the one issued him by the CIA and on a weekly basis transferred the entire contents of his hard drive. He hid his stash in his locker at the local gym, because he knew better than to take anything home. He was not able to recreate or find the sophisticated programs he was using at Blue Herron so he was never able to trace who sent the messages, and even though he spent countless hours studying faces and behavior and reviewing the agency directories, he wasn’t any closer and feared he might never know his invisible friend. The days and weeks went by without incident and he settled into the routine of a 60 hour work week and the 40 mile trek back to Occaquan, spending the weekend surrounded by the warm love of his little girl and the icy chill of his wife.

He found out about the severity of the internal investigation suddenly and without warning when he was invited to a technical briefing on a new server. When he arrived at the assigned conference room, it was empty. He looked at his watch to see if he was early and when he saw that he was not, rechecked his PDA to make sure he was in the right place. When he saw that he was, he became suspicious that something else was about to happen. It was a typical agency conference room with a large veneer table with a phone in its center surrounded by 20 chairs. There was a Microsoft projector on the end of the table pointed toward a large white screen that extended from the ceiling. A podium was stuck in one of the corners and an easel with a large white tablet in another. The wall opposite the door was covered with a map of the world, and another had a large white board with a box of dry erase markers and 2 erasers on its tray. Like most agency conference rooms it was perfectly clean without a trace of any prior meeting. The emptiness and quiet was very disturbing, so he thought about leaving and going back to his desk and making them come after him when the door opened and in walked a familiar, but unwelcome, face: James Burton.

Jonathan was well aware that the agency often scheduled investigative interviews under the guise of something else to catch the suspect off guard and to keep them from running. Jonathan knew immediately what had transpired and felt a little foolish that he had been duped but was most surprised that they would send Burton. He personally hated the man, knowing that he was used with the most severe criminals and that in his path lay a trail of former agents, most of whom had been his friends. James Burton was a big man, both in height and weight, in his early 50’s, Harvard educated, a former secret service agent, always wearing a dark suit with a red tie, always on the offense, bullying and intimidating everyone around him. He had a full head of grayish black hair that was heavily oiled and combed straight back. Jonathan surmised that it was probably the same haircut that he had had in his high school senior picture. He carried a large Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee, and before he sat down, he took a sip and then grimaced as if it was the last cup from a pot that had been sitting all day. Jonathan knew him as a miserable man who enjoyed using his power to bring misery to other people. Burton entered the room with 2 other agents, both acquaintances of Jonathan, Milton Friedkin, a human resources attorney, and Joe Snyder, a computer engineer. Milton looked much younger than the others, even though Jonathan knew he was about their age. He had a full head of dark black hair, layered stylishly, blue eyes and a black moustache without a hint of gray. Jonathan had been in several meetings with him over the years, on various human resource issues, and knew that Milton was PD’s right hand man.

Joe Snyder was a slight man, about 6 feet tall and no more than 150 lbs. He was mostly bald and had eczema or some skin disorder that put large red welts on his neck and face which Jonathan could see on every bit of exposed skin. Joe wore black glasses that were a couple of generations out of style and a dark suit that matched Burtons’.

Burton was an imposing figure and carried a black legal briefcase that was so large it looked like a section of a filing cabinet with a handle. He sat down at the middle of the long conference room table, swung his suitcase up to the table letting it slam to produce the proper amount of decibels, so that everyone knew without a doubt that he was armed with evidence and in complete control. He opened his briefcase and pulled out 2 large binders that had hundreds of different colored tabs all neatly indexed and then slid the large bag across the table out of the way. The others sat on either side of him stoically, like uncomfortable pawns next to their evil king, as he explained his mission. Jonathan still stood in shock, knowing what was about to begin, wondering how it could be attached to him and having no options but to watch and listen to the show.

“Sit down,” said Burton motioning Jonathan to a chair directly across from his. Burton continued methodically like a prosecutor reviewing his case before the condemned, being careful to reveal only what needed to be revealed at that particular moment. He placed a tape recorder on the table and hit the “record” button and began. “As you know there’s an internal investigation concerning the July 15th bombing at 1941 Jeff Davis Highway to determine the cause, find the perpetrators and see if there was any internal involvement. Even though the Senate found the agency not guilty of any wrong doing we anticipate that there will be other independent committees to further investigate the matter and as the only survivor from operation
Blue Heron
you will be called upon to testify to both our agency and other committees. Do you understand how important it is for you to explain everything exactly as it happened?”

Jonathan nodded, “I’ve already told the agency and the Senate Committee that I don’t remember anything that happened that morning.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Not even bits and pieces?”

“Well, there are a few fragments, but nothing that puts the whole day together.”

“We don’t have any record of you coming forward with any fragments. Why would you withhold information?”

“Because they’re not complete.”

“Did you ever think that maybe we also have fragments and together we might be able to piece this thing together?” “No one has shared with me anything, so I don’t know what you have.”

“And yet you still choose to be silent.”

“I’m not choosing anything. And I’m happy to give you everything I remember.”

Burton pulled out a sheet of paper and read the first item on a list. “This isn’t the first time you have tried to hide something. On December 18th you informed the agency of emails that you had received from August 15th through November 15th and even, against orders from the agency, chose to communicate with the initiator. Is this true?”

“I was not given any orders not to communicate with others by email.”

“But you were told that you were not part of the investigative team, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you choose to take it upon yourself to begin a dialogue with someone who could potentially have been involved with the bombing?” “I thought I could help.”

“Mr. Anderson that act was an act of insubordination. Did you understand that you could be terminated for such an act?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“And further, even after you disobeyed a direct agency order, you chose not to disclose your communication until nearly 4 months later? Why was that Mr. Anderson?”

“At the time, I didn’t think it important.”

“So you didn’t think it important?” Jonathan began getting annoyed, “Listen Burton, I know your tactics. Just ask me the questions and I’ll answer them. You’re not dealing with someone who just fell off the potato truck.”

“That’s what concerns us the most and frankly doesn’t look so good for you. You are an expert in this field and more than anyone knew the significance of what you were doing and what you weren’t doing. So tell me about these fragments that you remember.”

Jonathan put his hand on his forehead, squeezed his temples with his thumb and index finger, and spoke, looking directly down at the table as if he was trying to squeeze the words out of his head. “I know I was with my daughter and that there was an accident in the street. I was worried that Bob was hurt so I called his office and talked with him.”

“Bob Runyan?”

“Yes and then I was looking at the daily print of high probability emails and then I remember running for the stairwell with Carly. And like it or not, that’s it.”

Burton pointed to the recorder on the table, “You understand that I am recording this conversation, so that there isn’t any misunderstanding over what has been said.”

Jonathan said, “Yes, I have nothing to hide.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. You have told us that you have no memory of anything that happened the morning of July 15th and now some 6 months later you have pieces that you have remembered but have failed to reveal.” He hesitated and opened one of the large binders to a tabbed section, “Let’s see, yes on July 30th you told 4 different agents and the Director of the CIA that you could remember nothing.”

“That’s correct, at that point I didn’t,” answered Jonathan.

“And you’ve had emails, that you answered, and these fragments that you didn’t think important enough to talk to us about until months later.”

“I’m not sure it’s been months.”

“The email was dated,” he pulled open a purple tab, “August 15th and you disclosed it on December 12th, I would call that months. Do you agree?”

Jonathan knew the drill and that Burton would not relent until he agreed so he nodded his head and said, “Yes.”