We walked down to the maglev connector station just north of the campus and made plans to meet at the same coffee shop on Saturday to discuss the new readings. Just before she stepped onto the train I squeezed her hand and pulled her back toward me. It was my turn to take the leap and our lips met. The world stopped and everything disappeared until the attendant tapped her on the shoulder,
“Excuse me, Miss, we’re about to close the doors.” He pointed at her bag that was hanging off her shoulder just far enough to be in the way if the doors closed. “In or out, but you have to decide.”
Abby leaned in and whispered in my ear, “See you Saturday.”
She stepped back and the doors slid shut. She placed her hand on the glass window between us and smiled as the train began to slowly and quietly pull off.
I made my way home that night and dove head first into reading The Surveillance State.
The Surveillance State
Chapter 1
Queens, New York, 2021
Michael walked into the dark, smoky room past the bar and two pedestals with pole dancers on them. He sat down at the last table in the back.
A waitress wearing nothing but a thong and five inch high heels bent over and asked, “What are you drinking, honey?”
“Club soda,” Michael said, trying not to stare at her cartoon-like breasts.
“I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t frequent places like this because he felt it was demeaning to women, but this is where his informant wanted to meet. He looked at his watch, “It’s 7:00 pm, and this is the table. I hope she shows,” He said to himself.
A tap on his shoulder startled him and he nearly spilled his ten dollar club soda.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” The nearly naked woman bent down and whispered in his ear, “How about a private dance?" She ran her hand up his thigh.
“Uh, no thanks,” Michael said pulling away. “I’m meeting someone.”
She leaned down and whispered, “Falcon.”
His eyes widened, “Mrs. Lopez.”
“It’s Sunfire.” She smiled and winked. “Now are you coming?” She turned and walked into a private room with a curtain as the door.
Michael hesitated, then pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room.
Chapter 2
Austin, Texas 2002
Two teenage boys were hovering over a computer screen with their jaws hanging open. A knock at the door startled them; the shortest one shut down the screen, muted the speakers, and yelled, “Yes.”
“Dirk, open this door.”
“Uh, hold on,” Dirk muttered.
The door handle shook as the two boys’ hid papers and tried to look innocent. Dirk opened the door.
“Yes?” Dirk said with a smirk on his face.
“What’s going on in here?” Dirk’s mom asked as she walked around the room, sniffing for signs of drugs. “You know I would be able to smell it if you were smoking that wacky tobbaky.”
“We’re just hanging out,” Dirk said.
“And does Steve’s parents know he is here?” she asked.
Dirk looked at his friend Steve who answered, “Yes, Mrs. Stone.”
“You have a visitor at the front door.”
“Is it Greg?” Dirk asked.
“I’m not sure I’ve never seen him before.”
“Ya, cause he’s new this year,” Dirk said as he brushed past his mom and said, “We have some homework to do.” His voice trailed off as he descended the stairs.
After a few minutes of small talk and introductions, the boys made it back into Dirk’s room. He locked the door turned and said, “Holy crap Greg I can’t believe your program works.”
He turned on the screen and speakers. Hundreds of small thumbnails playing video popped up. “See anything interesting yet?” Greg asked.
Steve pointed at the naked woman. “Yep, look at that, it’s Mrs. Juemelan.” He clicked on the icon and it switched to full screen. Speechless, the boys watched as their English teacher walked in and out of the screen cleaning off a large teacher’s desk.
“Holy crap, Greg, how in the hell is this happening?”
Greg’s face lit up, “It’s actually a pretty simple app that allows us to control the front facing cameras on pretty much anyone’s phone. I took a programming class the last two summers and accidentally found a way to do this. Put in any cell number that has a front facing camera and bam we can remotely watch what people are doing.”
Steve shook his head and said, “Looks like none of us will be getting F’s in our classes anymore.”
The boys looked over at the screen, and saw that Mrs. Jumelon who was married to the head football coach was joined by a second female, the boy’s P.E. teacher, Mrs. Drost. The next few minutes left them speechless as they witnessed something they only dreamed about.
“Do you think we can blackmail them?” Dirk asked Steve.
“I doubt highly she would want anyone to see this, especially her husband,” Steve snickered.
Greg cut in, “Hold on.” He shook his head. “No one said anything about blackmail. I showed this to you guys because I thought…”
He paused, then said, “I’m not sure what I thought other than I just needed someone else to see what I created.”
Steve laughed. “What’s the big deal? We can use any leverage we can get on these teachers.”
Dirk smiled, “Come on Greg, imagine the power this gives us.”
Greg looked up at his teachers kissing each other, “I guess it wouldn’t be that bad.”
Suddenly both of the women’s faces turned in the same direction. Fear was evident in their eyes as they jumped up off of the desk.
“I can explain,” Mrs. Juemelon said as she tried to cover herself. Mrs. Drost popped up and out of the screen as she desperately tried to gather her things.
The male voice in the background was unmistakable.
“It’s Mr. Juemalon,” Dirk whispered as if the people on the other end of the phone could hear him.
The coach screamed, “Whore!”
“Fuck you,” Mrs. Drost screamed back.
Then suddenly blood splattered out across the screen and all over Mrs. Jemalon.
“Oh noooooo! What have you done?” She collapsed to her knees, naked and covered in blood as she reached up toward the screen, “I’m calling the cops.”
The screen jumbled, but in a glimpse the boys could see Mr. Jumelon holding a softball bat. The screen went black.
“What happened? Why did it turn off?” Dirk asked.
Greg hit the stop recording button, “The program automatically shuts off when the phone is being used to make a call.”
The three boys stood there in silence not sure what they should do.
Chapter 3
Queens, New York 2021
Michael sat down in the chair in the middle of the room. The woman straddled his legs and shoved her breasts into Michael’s face. She leaned in, “Sorry about this, but we need to make it look like you’re a customer.”
He blushed, and said, “You work here?”
“It’s a good place to hide,” She said and smiled, turned around, bent over with her knees straight and shook her butt cheeks around her white thong.
“What is this information you have and why did you contact me?” He asked.
“I read the articles you wrote about your sister’s death a few years ago and feel you will do the right thing.”
“O.K. and what is this info you say will change everything?”
She leaned down licked his ear and slid her hand into his pocket.
He pulled back, “Hey.”
“I just slipped a zip drive into your pocket.” She leaned back and wiped her hair around in a circle, her legs squeezed him and every muscle on her slender figure tightened.
“Why the show?” Michael asked.
“There are cameras behind the mirrors,” she whispered.
&nbs
p; “Do all the customers know that?” He asked.
“Of course not.”
She wiped her leg up and over him placing her six inch heel on the wall behind him. She dipped her hips back and forth rubbing her crotch on his shoulder. “But you need to focus. The information I just gave you is very dangerous and I understand if you don’t want to use it.”
“What is it?” He tried to ignore her naked body and the gyrating she was doing.
She threw herself back down onto his lap and began to grid her hips back and forth, then said in his ear, “Have you heard of a program in the NSA called FACE?”
“Yes, I think I have.”
“What if I told you that our government is in collusion with some very powerful corporations and has been systematically using the software on American citizens?”
“Hold on! You’re saying they are using a face recognition program designed to track terrorists on everyday Americans.”
“I’m not saying it! Those documents are showing it.”
He looked down and asked, “What could they possibly have to gain.”
She shook her head, responding, “Control. With the right information the intelligence branches in the CIA, NSA, DEA, could control the world.”
“Sounds farfetched to me.”
“Farfetched?” She leaned in and kissed his neck. “What if I told you they can turn on and monitor any front-facing cameras on phones, tablets, and computers without a warrant? What if I told you they were then using this information to blackmail high level Washington insiders into voting a certain way?”
“How high does this go?” Michael asked.
“All the way,” she replied.
Michael gulped and asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Tyler Ryan. I was an administrative assistant to one of the directors of FACE. What you have there will shock the world.” She grabbed his hand and ran it over her breasts.
Michael recoiled and said, “Hey!”
“You can’t touch me there. Someone will be in a second to throw you out, so go along with it and the idiots following me won’t suspect you.”
Michael didn’t have a chance to say anything before a large man came busting in.
“Get your hands off!” He wrapped his hands around Tyler and delicately lifted her off of Mike, grabbed Michael in a very different manner and dragged him out of the club tossing him into the alley way, yelling, “Don’t come back, pervert,” and then slammed the door.
Michael pulled himself up and stumbled down the alley way until he was sure no one could see him, then pulled out the zip drive. He opened his hand and smiled.
Chapter 4
Austin, Texas 2001
Steve, Dirk, and Greg stood at the bottom of a huge flight of concrete steps leading up to the police station.
“Are you sure about this?” Dirk asked.
“Yes,” Greg said confidently. “I’ll take this recording in there, explain the whole situation and then they will arrest the Jumelons.” He thought back to the gruesome murder and the last week, where they had to watch both Mrs. Jumelon and Mr. Jumelon carry on as if nothing had even happened.
Steve snapped his fingers and Dirk held out his hand. “If it comes to it, you can always call us in to corroborate what you saw.”
“I think the recording will say it all,” Greg said, and held up a small thumb drive. Then he turned around and ascended up into the station.
His heart pounded as he stepped in the old building. Although it had been years since they allowed cigarette smoking, the smell still lingered in the old carpet and faded wallpaper.
“Please step through here,” a lady told him and then waved him to step through a metal detector. “If you have anything in your pockets, you can put them in this.” She slid a bowl toward him.
He walked up to the window and stood there, A lady behind the glass darted back and forth, frantically between the phone, her computer, and a radio.
“Excuse me,” Greg said.
She smiled and said, “How can I help you, cutie?” She winked, and smacked down on her gum.
“I need to report a murder.”
Her jaw dropped and she stopped chewing before she asked, “Did you say murder?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stood up, leaned in toward the glass and said, “I’ll be right back with someone who can help.”
She stumbled as she moved past her chair and Greg could hear her footsteps increase to a run. Before he could blink, she was opening the side door and introducing him to Detective Pheasant.
They ushered him in and ran over the basics of the accusations he was levying before Greg handed them the thumb drive. “It’s all on this drive,” he told the detective.
Detective Pheasant looked down at it and stood there in silence. After thirty seconds he looked up at Greg, “I have a friend in the CIA who…” he stopped and took a deep breath, saying, “Even if there was a murder you are still looking at a number of high level charges, but maybe, maybe we could use this,” he stated.
Greg was smart and he could see the detective was trying to look out for him. “So call your friend, and let’s make a deal.”
Detective Pheasant smiled, “OK.”
Chapter 5
Times Tower, New York City, 2021
Michael was thinking about his pitch when someone tapped him.
“Hey, Mike, you with us, bud?” his editor asked and everyone chuckled.
“Yes, sorry. I was just trying to put together my story pitch.”
“OK, what do you have for us today?” The man at the end of the table said as he looked around the room at the editorial staff of the New York Times.
“What if I told you that I had documents proving the NSA is involved in domestic spying, blackmail, and ultimately helping to pull the strings that are destroying what is left of our freedoms? These same documents implicate the CIA, FBI, and a number of corporations in what can only be called a coup d’etat!”
The room fell silent and the man at the end of the table stood up. In this room he was known as “the general,” but Dirk Stone wasn’t a military man at all. He commanded the Times staff to produce excellence and they had achieved it, so the staff gave him the name. In an instant he knew the words that came out of his star reporter’s mouth meant war and he knew that it was tied to that day with Greg’s program. This war wouldn’t be like the wars Americans have become accustomed to, where the battles are halfway around the world. No, this war would bring death at to their doorsteps. “Are you confident these documents are legit?”
“Yes!”
Dirk said nothing. He turned around and took a deep breath pulled his hands up, ran them through his thin hair, wrapped them around the back of his head, sighed, and said, “As of right now everyone in this room consider yourself sequestered from speaking to anyone including other New York Times employees. I want you to drop everything you’re working on and start vetting Michael’s documents.”
He turned around, placed his hands on the long glass table, leaned forward, and said, “Have your assistants put out the stories for the next two days. On Sunday we will run this as whole paper story, which means I want a story from each of you on this. If it’s as deep as it sounds, there should be plenty of material affecting each one of you columnists. Let me be crystal clear on this, a story like this can be very dangerous and your lives depend on keeping this in house until we go to print. Once the cat is out of the bag, it will be too late for retaliation.”
The whole room nodded in agreement.
Chapter 6
2021
That Sunday the New York Times printed an unprecedented number of issues, with Michael’s story on the front page.
‘Top Security Agencies Deceive the American People.’ By Michael de Garcia.
The internet exploded with anger and dismay. If Michael had thought the story getting out would protect him, he was wrong.
At 9:15 am, th
ree hours after the paper was officially released, Michael de Garcia and his editor and chief Dirk Stone, were arrested and charged with treason.
***
Undisclosed Military Jail, 2021
Michael raised his head in a dark room, a light shining in his eyes.
“Welcome back, Mr. de Garcia...”
Michael scanned the room but could see nothing. He looked down at his bare chest to see wires taped to him; suddenly he remembered being shocked.
“I don’t know who she was!”
ZZZZZZZ, a buzzing sound began.
“No!” Michael screamed.
“Tell us where she is or you will die.”
“I told you I don’t know.”
ZZZZap, ZZZZZZZZ.
Michael’s whole body went stiff before he passed out again.
Chapter 7
Laguardia International Airport, 2021
Taylor Ryan sat down at the end of the long bar and looked up at the TV. She saw the ticker on the bottom saying, “Michael de Garcia has been arrested.”
She picked up the paper and scanned through it before taking out a plane ticket and examining it. The name was not hers, but it matched the fake ID she held next to it. She repeated her info over and over again, trying to make sure she would be able to answer any questions before boarding. She looked out of the bar and across the terminal to see if they were boarding. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. She jerked back and nearly fell off her seat.
A cocktail waitress said, “I just wanted to see if you needed a refill of your coffee.”
Taylor said, “No, thank you, it’s time for me to board.” She gathered her things and scurried off toward her gate.
Chapter 8
Undisclosed Military Jail 2002
Awakened by the knock on the door Greg rolled over and sat up at the edge of the only bed in the cell.
“Good Morning, Mr. Daily.” The guard smiled, and said, “looks like you have some visitors.”
Greg stood up and held out his hands for the guard to place shackles on them.
“Visitors, you say,” he said, and tilted his head to the side. “Is that a normal occurrence here?”
The guard said. “The visitors you have today are the only kind permitted.”