Perspectives, An Intriguing Tale of an American Born Terrorist (8 page)

For Jonathan, getting lost in managing these databases was therapy for him as the hours and days drifted by. Often he would start at 6 a.m. in the morning and watch the sun rise and set before going back to his apartment at 10 p.m. During the day he made sure to call Carly when she got home from school. She was always excited to hear his voice and tell him about her day.

“When are we going to move?” she would always ask.

“Soon pumpkin.”

Jonathan asked his supervisor if he could work with the programmers to upgrade the hologram program and was excited when he was given permission. Unfortunately, his programming became so aggressive that he created a super terrorist and was told to “lighten up” and not make the programs so difficult, because it wasn’t good for the terrorists to win and the agents to be killed every time. Soon he received a reputation with all the agents and there was a new level of competition to see if anyone could beat his simulations. No one ever did. They gave him the nickname “Nordero” after a famous bull on the rodeo circuit that retired without ever having a cowboy ride him for eight seconds.

Slowly, bits and pieces of July 15th returned to him and he often lay in his bed in the early morning hours trying to recall any detail of the day of the explosion. Each piece he categorized as if he was working on a jig saw puzzle with a million pieces. He knew there were emails, but he was always working on emails and wished that he could gain access to his job stream from that day and felt it a cruel misfortune that he was locked out. Every time he tried to talk to someone about it, they told him that it was classified information. In the evening he logged into his personal Yahoo account waiting for his mysterious new friend to email him again. He wondered about that odd email, the one that told him that his country would not stand behind him. Struggling for any thread that would take him back to that day, he acted against his normal judgment and replied to the email.

“What do you mean?” he answered. “Do I know you?” He stared at the computer for nearly an hour, got up and fixed himself a cup of tea and when he returned there was an answer.

“You need to remember, before they remember for you. You are the center of this storm. Go to instant messenger.”

Jonathan flipped to instant messenger.

Jetsource86: Hello Jonathan

Jonathan’s tag name was F15Flyboy.

F15Flyboy: Do I know you?

Jetsource86: That has no relevance.

F15 Flyboy: Do you know what happened on July 15th?

Jetsource86: Yes, but I also know what didn’t happen.

F15Flyboy: Were you involved?

Jetsource86: That too has no relevance.

F15Flyboy: What didn’t happen?

Jetsource86: You were not connected.

F15Flyboy: Of course I wasn’t connected. Do they think I’m connected?

Jetsource86: Guilty, until proven innocent, we will talk tomorrow, open an Earthlink account and I will find it. Also, register for a different IM name.

Jonathan now knew for certain that it was someone within the agency. “The person has encrypted his name and probably his messages, so they can’t trace him, only someone on the inside could do that. Who could it be?” He started going through the names and faces of his department, but there were too many, and most of the agents he didn’t even know. “Let’s see, he can find me, even if I don’t give him my username. They would have to have access to a program like our Blue Herron program or else they would never be able to trace me through the Earhlink and AOL servers. It would have to be someone inside my group.”

The next day Jonathan studied the people around him, to see if anyone acted differently or gave anything away with non-verbal communication, but everyone went about their daily tasks and no one acted any differently. He struggled with what to do and decided that he could trust PD McVay so he called and scheduled an appointment. PD was after all the Senior Executive in charge of Human Resources and had been a close friend over his career with the CIA. PD was there for him when he came home a wounded POW and helped transition him into his position at Blue Herron. And now he would call on his old friend once more. If he was being investigated by the agency, PD would share it with him.

The CIA headquarters at Langley was a vast complex of buildings and PD resided in the Southwest corner of the main building known as “Executive Row,” which was really a misnomer because there were no rows at Langley. Rows assume symmetry and all the hallways at Langley were rounded with mirrors and cameras, so that no one could hide around a corner. Executive row was a series of offices that housed the entire Senior Staff of William Reed. Jonathan walked across the grounds and passed “Interrogation Hall,” an infamous high tech facility used to question suspects with the most advanced methods known to man. Only once had he been through those doors and it was enough for him to know that he never wanted to go back. Although there had been some advancement in the methods of retrieving information, the procedures of breaking a person were basically the same as they’d been for all ages and were administered in 4 phases…polygraph, brutality, terror, and drugs. He knew a few of the agents that worked in “Interrogation Hall,” and they were little more than executioners, the worse being an interrogator named Harry Davidson, a little bald man who had allegedly killed 6 people in the name of Homeland Security at Guantanamo Bay, before being reassigned to Langley and acquitted without a trial. There was also an interrogator named John Burton, a Harvard educated man, who was a former Federal Prosecutor. Jonathan met Burton when one of his close friends, George Hawkins, was being investigated after a botched assassination attempt on Saddam Hussein. Burton was convinced that George had purposely revealed the mission, in exchange for a cash payout. Even though the suspicions were never proved and ultimately dismissed, Burton ruined George’s career, by making certain facts known to the entire agency which somehow leaked to the newspapers. The
Washington Post
printed a front page article
CIA Agent Acquitted But Questions Still Remain
wherein the agent’s every mistake and act of indiscretion, including a tryst with an Israeli prostitute, was printed. The source was listed only as a high ranking CIA official. After the humiliation from the newspaper article, George Hawkins shot himself in the head with a government issued Glock 9mm, leaving behind a wife and 3 young children. In earth’s hell, Harry Davison and John Burton were both ranking members in Lucifer’s cabinet.

Jonathan scanned his badge at the checkpoint outside of “Executive Row” and was met by a guard who escorted him past the office of the chief Legal Officer, Bob Kohn, past the Chief Financial Officer, Don Taylor, past an open bay of administrative assistants, busily answering the phones, making schedules and reservations for their kings and finally to the large office of the Senior Executive of Human Resources.

PD’s office had all the splendor of a man of his position and stature, richly decorated with dark picture frame paneling, custom made book shelves all filled with limited editions, maroon draperies that partially covered a wall of windows looking over the south portion of the property filled with hundred year old oak trees, maples and birches, and memorabilia from 35 years in the service. An American flag hung from a pole beside his desk and a large picture of the President hung on the wall. PD was a huge man, nearly 6 foot 7 inches tall, and over 300 lbs. PD had told Jonathan that his parents had emigrated from Lebanon and he was born in New York City. He played collegiate football for Texas Christian University as a defensive end and was very loyal to his alma mater. He was drafted and played offensive tackle for two seasons for the Los Angeles Rams. PD was always impeccably dressed. Today he was wearing a $2500 Hickey Freeman blue pin striped suit with a red tie. He welcomed Jonathan with a smile and a warm handshake like a father would welcome a son.

He put his arm around Jonathan as he guided him into the room. “Have a seat Jonathan, how’s the transition going? Are you getting comfortable with your new position?”

Jonathan sat in a blue wingback chair in front of PD’s desk and PD plopped into his oversized executive chair behind it. “Not as bad as I thought it would be,” answered Jonathan.

PD rubbed his forehead and said. “I’m a little disappointed with you Jonathan. You know I have always looked out for you. I’m surprised that you doubted me. There are different stages in a career, just like there are different stages in life.”

“I know that PD, I wasn’t exactly myself. It’s been a tough time for me. But, you’re right. I really do appreciate everything, thank you.”

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked reaching behind his desk and pouring himself a glass of sherry.

“No thank you.”

PD took a delicate, almost effeminate sip, and asked, “And how’s Mary and Carly?”

“Carly’s doing better, Mary not so well. We’re still going through some tough times.”

“I know you’ve heard it many times, but a parent should never have to bury their own child. Jonathan you can never get over the loss of a child. Are you still going to the psychiatrist?”

“It really didn’t help.”

“You may not see it, but it’s helping. You should go back.” He saw that Jonathan wasn’t convinced so he tried again. “What do you have to lose; we’re paying for it all.”

“I just hate to keep rehashing it over and over.”

“Do you remember any more?”

“Not really, just bits and pieces.” He hesitated for a minute. “You know what bothers me the most is that I feel so damn helpless. I need to be doing something to help you find these guys. You know as well as me that I’m the most capable agent that you have to do that. PD, I need my clearances back.”

PD let out a loud breath of air, “Is that what this is all about? I thought we discussed that. I’m surprised that you would put our friendship in between agency policy. Jonathan, even if I wanted to I couldn’t do what you’re asking.”

Jonathan put his head in his hands. “PD, you don’t know how frustrating it is! I need to get back at those sons of bitches, but I can’t. I need to make them pay and you’ve stripped me of all the tools. I just want to kill the whole lot of them!”

PD chuckled, “Jonathan, you need to listen to yourself. That’s why you’re not on the case. It is impossible for you to be objective. Let me assure you that we’re working on finding these goons as we speak. We have more that 500 agents working 24/7 to make those responsible pay.”

Jonathan lifted his head, “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing everything in your power. I’m just so damn frustrated! Have you found anything yet?”

PD shook his head, “You know I can’t reveal that, it’s classified information, strictly on a need to know basis.” Jonathan felt a little hurt, because in the past he had always been in the
need to know
circles. “Not even a crumb?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

After a few seconds of silence Jonathan blurted out, “I’ve been getting emails inferring that I may be the subject of an internal investigation.”

PD perked up, “Emails? From whom?”

“I don’t know, the username is encrypted, so I suspect it’s someone who knows a lot about computers, they would have to be from the inside. They also seem to know a lot about what happened on the 15th.”

PD sat up in his chair, “What exactly did they say?”

Jonathan handed PD a printout of the emails and the text messaging dialogue. He studied them and said, “Who have you told about this?”

“Only you.”

“You did good coming to me. How long has this been going on?”

“Awhile.”

“But why didn’t you come to me immediately? You know that in these types of things, time is of the essence.”

“I was trying to help.”

“Well you need to get uninvolved as of right this second. Now, I need all the information from your personal account, so that we can trace these back to their source. I don’t want you to talk to anyone else about them. Not even Mary, agreed?”

PD scanned the emails and seemed stunned to see that the first one had come in nearly 4 months ago, right after Jonathan got home from the hospital. “Jonathan, of all people, you know better than this. Certainly you have a reason why you would withhold information that might be vital to our investigation?”

“I really didn’t think it was anything.”

“Jesus Christ, Jonathan, you of all people should know that with something like this, everything is important. Don’t have any more communication with this person or people or whoever they are, without us monitoring every transmission, do you understand?”

“Calm down PD. I answered some emails and I’ve brought you all the information, so don’t shoot me, okay, it would seem that you’d want to use me to find out everything you can about this person and what they know.”

“You’re wrong Jonathan and the sooner you get that through your head the better! This isn’t your investigation. How many fucking times am I going to have to tell you that?”

“Come on PD, I’ve always cooperated, I’m a team player with nothing to hide. What about the other, you know what they said in the emails, the internal investigation. Am I being investigated?”

PD looked around as if someone was listening. “Jonathan, the truth is that we’re all being investigated, all the time. You’re the only survivor of the team and mysteriously you have no memory. So yes, unfortunately in this day and age you’re guilty until proven innocent. And hiding emails doesn’t help, okay?”

Jonathan looked at him with a puzzled expression. “It’s very interesting what you just said, because that’s exactly what’s written in that email.”

“Sorry about that, it must have stuck. Don’t make too much of it, it’s a common expression.”

“If I promise to behave, can you help me get access to the programs so that I can find these guys?”

“What the hell is the matter with you? Are you fucking deaf! No and don’t ask again! Let it go! And if I find out that you’ve been digging around or in places that you shouldn’t be, the next time we meet won’t be so amicable.”

“I love you, too,” said Jonathan snidely.