Greg had spent the past three months in a special detention center the CIA ran to house Cold War combatants. Apparently he was considered a national security threat and under the Patriot Act could be held indefinitely.
When the door opened, he recognized one of the four men standing there. A man he didn’t know stepped forward, and said, “Mr. Daily, please have a seat.”
Greg sat down.
The man introduced himself. “I’m Special agent Wilson, and you know Detective Pheasant. These two gentlemen are here to help you.” He stuck out his hand toward the shorter one, saying, “This is Director Clark and Assistant Director Logay.”
Director Clark stepped forward and placed a stack of papers down in front of Greg.
“Hello, son, my name is Norm Clark. I’m the director of the NSA. This is my right hand man Shane Logay.” He waved at his partner. “We’re very interested in helping you wipe the slate clean, as it were.”
Greg leaned forward and asked, “How are you going to accomplish this?” He rolled his eyes.
Director Clark responded, “We are in the process of starting a new division in the National Security Agency to help find terrorists before they strike. Within the new parameters of the Patriot Act, we have been given the latitude to do surveillance through the Internet.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Your software.” He pulled out some photos from a folder and pushed them in front of him. “You call it FACE. We think it could help us in this brave new world.”
“So buy the rights,” Greg said sarcastically.
“It is not so simple. You violated at least ten federal laws and could face thirty years to life if someone didn’t step in.”
“Step in how?” Greg asked.
“Detective Pheasant here is a former colleague of mine in the USMC and he bypassed the normal judicial process in contacting us. He felt it was the only way to keep you out of jail.”
“Is that the reason I’m here, not being charged, just held as an enemy combatant?”
“Yes, we have gone to great lengths to keep this quiet, in hopes that you would join us.”
He pointed at the stack of papers, “That’s a contract for two million up front and half a million a year for you to act as the assistant director in our new top secret fight against terror now being called FACE.”
“What if I don’t accept?”
Director Clark leaned in and his face tightened, as he stated, “You’ll spend the rest of your life in here with your new best friends, the Muslim brotherhood.”
Greg didn’t hesitate. He reached out his cuffed hands and grabbed the pen. “Where do I sign?”
Director Clark gave him a crooked smile and said, “Next to each of the sticky notes.”
***
Minutes later, as they were exiting the room, Greg rubbed his wrists, trying to get back the feeling. He asked, “What’s next?”
Agent Clark waved over toward Shane Logay. “Assistant director Logay will show you to your office when we get back to Washington. You will be briefed on the parameters of your operation.”
Chapter 9
NSA Headqurates, 2021
Director Pheasant barged into Greg’s office, “they spotted her!”
“Where?” Greg asked. It had been years since he joined the NSA and it showed on the line in his face.
“We found her in the background of someone’s selfie on a flight to Hong Kong.”
“Hong Kong?”
“Dammit.” He flipped around, hitting the chair in front of him, sending it twirling into Greg’s desk, “Do you know how hard it is to extradite out of there?”
“So what’s the big deal? We paint her as a Commie trader pissed off at her boss and lover for dumping her. Send the assassins in and make it look like a suicide.”
“You read the article and saw the first release of documents. They can’t be denied.”
“You repeat a lie enough times, people will believe it,” Greg said.
Director Pheasant sat down and said, “I wish I had your resolve, and to think eight years ago I was the one bailing you out.”
“How could you have known? You trusted her and she betrayed that trust. It’s not your fault.”
Director Pheasant dropped his head, shook it from side to side and said, “I just should have seen it coming.”
Chapter 10
Hong Cong, 2021
Tyler stepped down from the rickshaw she hailed at the airport and moved quickly into the motel ahead. She approached the desk and asked, “Room for Jade Spencer?”
The man stopped looked around, leaned forward and whispered, “Please keep your head down and try not to speak English.” He stepped out from behind the desk, blew out a puff of cigarette smoke, and motioned for her to follow him up two flights of stairs and past the only bathroom on the floor. He stopped at room 77, handed her a key, and said, “After he calls you need to destroy this phone and go to your second location.”
He grabbed her hand and asked, “Understand?”
Tyler nodded and said quietly, “Yes.”
She stepped past him into her 8x4 room, looked around and shook her head. “Wow, this is small.”
It was two days before the phone finally rang. She hadn’t left the room other than to use the restroom because her host kept food and drink coming. She stepped over empty boxes of food and answered the phone. “Greg, is that you?”
The voice on the other side of the line made her smile. Greg answered, “Yes, listen I don’t have a lot of time. They know you’re there, FACE found you in a selfie getting off the plane. It’s only a matter of time. You have to get out of Hong Kong and into China.”
“What about the other hotel? I thought you were going to meet me there?” After a long pause she asked, “Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here, baby, I know I said …” he paused again, then said, “…but it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” she whispered through her tears.
“No time. You know the plan get to China and I’ll find you.”
“Greg?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
***
Greg hung up the phone, sat back in his desk and thought about the first time he walked through those doors.
He was naive to say the least, and now Shane Logay was laying out everything.
“Have a seat,” Mr. Logay said.
Director Pheasant and his new assistant Greg sat down across the desk turned a laptop around and pointed at a folder. “In these folders here, we have seven of them. You have a table of contents of the data you can access to help narrow down who we want to target with the new FACE program. I don’t have the time to go into depth, but I’m sure with my introductions and a few days to go over it, you’ll be able to make heads and tails of it. This first file is the Table of Contents for corporate drug testing.”
Detective Pheasant tilted his head and asked, “Which is what?”
“When a person agrees to work for a company they waive their rights within the scope of medical privacy. It is a list of every person who has ever failed a job related drug test.”
Greg scoffed, “Even if drug tests don’t work?”
“They are accurate enough to have millions of data points.” He pointed at the folder.
Greg shook his head, “It’s commonly known that the only drug these tests usually find is marijuana. All the other drugs are in and out of your system within twenty four hours making them nearly impossible to catch.”
“Be that as it may, it’s your directive to use this as a data point.” He closed the file and said, “Next we have criminal records even those of minors and those which have been expunged.”
The two nodded in agreement.
He moved to the next folder, “These are education records.” He lifted up the binder, “As you can tell this one is th
e largest. Thanks to “No Child Left Behind,” there is a mountain of data points that can help us finding those who are undesirable in our great society.”
Greg rolled his eyes.
Shane continued, “This one is a record of all mental illness and substance abuse records and before you even ask.” He held up his hand.
Greg smiled.
“The Patriot Act mandated medical officials and companies to report anyone who met the bill for mental illness, which includes anyone who has ever been treated with any medicine to treat mental issues including depression, anxiety, bipolar, and schizophrenia. This superseded the right to privacy.”
“Wow,” Greg said, clearly taken aback.
“Next we have anyone tied to radical groups, religions, bike clubs, car clubs, the NRA.”
“Is there anyone left?” Detective Pheasant asked.
“Funny. Next we have innovators who have pushed beyond our current economy, by bypassing the profit model.”
Greg didn’t understand, so he asked, “Could you give us some examples of this.”
“HHD or Hydrogen drive engines can run on water, which would wipe out the need for oil and adversely affect our economy considering that our dollar is heavily tied to the petroleum industry. Perpetual energy devices, medical cures, and anyone who has expanded upon Tesla’s work are also considered data points.”
“This seems like we’re targeting people who aren’t terrorists at all,” Greg stated.
“You’re right, the intent of FACE is to narrow down who might become a terrorist. In that respect, your program will help catch them before they become monsters.” He smiled and continued, “Lastly, we have every person and their families who hold office, are running for office, or work for someone who is one of those.”
He closed the last file and said, “If this works, it will tip the scales in our favor. Your program is now running on the most powerful severs in the country and can access all networks with total immunity. Here is the signed directive from the President himself authorizing this wartime measure. Any questions?”
Greg had hundreds of questions, but he knew they would only lead to trouble so he bit his tongue.
***
The next day they were introduced to the staff they would be working with. Director Pheasant’s new secretary stood at the other end of the room, fidgeting with her long skirt. Her brown hair pulled up in a bun and a dimple on her right cheek just below her blue eyes kept drawing Greg’s attention. At eighteen he had never felt such an intense immediate attraction, but she hadn’t noticed him then. At twenty two years old, Greg seemed like a baby to Tyler, and she treated him as such.
Greg wasn’t deterred. For two long years he had listened, talked, and schmoozed his way into a trusted position with Tyler, hoping to get his shot. Then, one night he came back to the office to get a file and inadvertently walked in on Tyler and her boss Director Pheasant in an indecent act. Pheasant was embarrassed, Miss Ryan was terrified of the repercussions, and Greg was devastated and deflated. He had built her up, put her on a pedestal, but seeing Tyler on her knees destroyed that, and for a few years he tried to forget about her. Working together on a daily basis didn’t help and knowing Pheasant was married and still sleeping with his secretary made Greg more than ill, but he still tolerated it. Tyler began noticing Greg as his body matured into a man, and his kindness was something she longed for.
One night when leaving work, he heard crying coming from the workroom. He found Tyler beaten and bloodied in the corner. She had found something, she wasn’t meant to in Director Pheasant’s paper work and confronted him. In his anger he beat her and threatened to kill her.
“What did you find?” Greg asked.
She sat up wiped her tears and handed Greg a folder. “They’re blackmailing everyone in there,” she said.
“For what?”
“Control. They’re using your software. This whole operation is set up for this purpose. Look for yourself. They’re driving policy, and changing Supreme Court rulings. It’s us, Greg, we've destroyed our democracy.”
Greg felt like someone squeezed all the air out of his lungs. His head began to spin and he had to sit down. He felt betrayed, cornered into being a traitor. That night the two of them started laying the track work to expose the agency, but they had to be careful as their life depended on it. Two years later they had grown into a secret couple deeply in love. Unfortunately she had to keep up the affair with Pheasant to pull off their plan. It didn’t matter to Greg because he had his eye on the prize. Even though he was Assistant Director, Greg had no real clearance. It had become evident that Pheasant’s access was the only way into the circle of these mad men running the country from the shadows.
Chapter 11
Hong Kong, 2021
Tyler pushed her way through the endless sea of people on the crowded streets of Hong Kong. She never imagined so many people could co-exist in such a tight spot without chaos. She was moving with the current like a turtle ready to withdraw into her shell if danger should arose.
Suddenly a tiny car appeared and slammed on its brakes in front of her. She stepped back and a small prick hit her neck. She reached up and pulled her finger out to expose a small amount of blood. Then everything started to spin and her world turned to black.
Chapter 12
Undisclosed Military Jail, 2021
It had been two days since the New York Times ran the most daring issue of its long storied existence. As a result the whole editorial staff was fired. In addition, the managing editor and its star reporter were both detained as enemy combatants. The new staff had its directive: fix the mess. The next Sunday’s paper was a complete retraction and outright attack on Mike de Garcia and Dirk Stone’s character.
The door on Michael’s cell opened and the first light he’d seen in two days flooded over his eyes. Trying to adjust, he blinked, and looked up at his wrist. He could finally see what was itching and burning his wrist. Maggots were eating away the flesh where the shackles had rubbed through his skin. At that moment he knew Dirk was right and was so glad he listened to him. He smiled.
One of the guards muttered, “Poor bastard is smiling. He must not know what’s coming.”
Michael, too weak to fight, just kept smiling, and as they unchained him from the wall and dragged him out of his cell, he started to laugh a deep haunting laugh. One of the guards took exception and knocked him out with the butt of his rifle.
***
Moments later he came to and pushed himself up to his knees, his face covered in dirt. He looked to his right, as Dirk was saying something to someone. Michael looked up and saw a firing squad in front of him. All at once his hearing came back and he heard Dirk screaming, “The Nazi party was filled with men just following orders.”
Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta.
Shots rang out and Dirk’s limp body fell right in front of Michael. The warm blood oozed onto his knees.
“Do you have any last words?”
Michael’s eyes hardened and he said, “Yes, your actions here today will only prove to be the downfall for what you believe. In the end justice always finds the wicked.”
Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta,
Shots rang out and Michael’s body dropped down over Dirk’s.
Chapter 13
Victorville, California, 2021
That night a story ran on national TV about a prison fight at a detention center that left four dead, including the former editor and his star writer from the New York Times.
Sitting at a diner in Victorville, California halfway across the world, sat a man in a black leather outfit, with a vagos insignia on the back of his jacket. Over his shoulder were saddlebags. In his hand was a letter and an envelope, which he began to read.
“Steve, I know I wasn’t always the best friend and I’m sorry for not staying in touch, but now I need your help. If you have received this letter, I’m dead or worse locked in a box for life. I s
uspect Greg is dead too. The program that we have kept quiet about for all these years is going to destroy our country. I need you to email the contents of this zip drive to every major journalist in the country. Be very careful because by doing this you may place yourself in harm’s way. If it were me, I would create a dummy account and do it through that, but you’re a better criminal than I am. Just don’t get caught. Tell my mom I love her.
Your friend, Dirk Stone.”
Chapter 14
NSA Headquarters, 2021
Two days later articles started popping up all over the Internet and the censors couldn’t keep up. A letter by Michael de Garcia and Dirk Stone went viral along with thousands of documents and one video proving their side of the story. The article became a rallying cry and a spark for outrage. People all over the country took to the streets, some peacefully, some in full blown riots.
When Director Pheasant came barging into Greg’s office, Greg was in the process of cleaning out all of the files tying him to Tyler Ryan from his computer.
“What are you doing there?” asked the Director.
Greg shut the screen on the laptop and said, “Just some routine cleaning and organizing.”
“We caught her,” Director Pheasant said with a smile.
Greg turned around and looked at a painting he had on his wall by Mike Olson. Trying to hold back his emotions, he asked, “Going to bring her in for questioning?”
The Director laughed, “No, we already disposed of her.”
Greg swung around and found he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his own gun in fact, the same gun Pheasant gave him when FACE made it past the probation period.
“Sit down,” Pheasant ordered.
Greg sat, “What are you doing?” he asked.
“At first I didn’t want to believe it, but they were right. You betrayed us.”
“Betrayed you? You betrayed your country. Look at what we’re doing. This isn’t’ democracy. This is tyranny.”
“Enough,” Pheasant shouted.
Bang.
One shot rang out. Pheasant quickly put the gun in Greg’s hand and sprayed a mist of gunpowder residue on his hand. The door began to bang, Pheasant ran over and unlocked it. Greg’s secretary ran in.