Last War (13 page)



XV

4439 CHASE CT. ANNANDALE, VIRGINIA, FAIRFAX COUNTY.

CURRENT HSAS: ORANGE-HIGH RISK OF TERRORISM

SUNDAY MARCH 25
TH
2003

     As Jason pulled up Chase Court, he looked at the piece of paper he held in his hand; a corner torn off of an old tissue box he had in his house. ‘Betsy Washington, (Tameka’s mother) 4439 Chase Ct. Annandale.’ It said.

    
As he pulled up to the three story town home, Jason pondered how he was going to approach this grieving mother with questions about her daughter's death. He wondered if the mother had suspicion of the government, or if she were clueless to the whole situation.      

    
As he walked closer to the brown faced home, he tried to take notice to anything that would help determine what approach to take with Betsy. The lawn was well manicured, but really, there wasn't much else. There was a well-trimmed bush directly next to the step in front of the door. She was the only house on the row without an American flag out front.

    
He rung the doorbell and waited. There was a car parked in the space labelled for her home, but he heard no movement in the house.

    
He rang the doorbell again. He saw the curtain next to the door move, slightly. It could have been a breeze in the house.

    
"Hello, Ms. Washington? My name is Jason Upton. I need your help."

    
From behind the door Betsy yelled out, "What’s it you want?"

    
"I wanna talk. I was Tameka's boss and I'm very concerned. I need your help.”

     "Who are you?"

     "I said, I used to work where Tameka did. I was her boss and--"

    
The door cracked open a little bit, so Jason lowered his voice. "…and I need your help."

    
Betsy peeked her head through the cracked door, she had short black hair about chin length. Although her hair was mostly black it had gray mixed in with it. She stood about 5' 6" and she was in great shape for the age that she was.

    
"What chu mean
used
to?"

     "That’s exactly what I mean m
a'am. I no longer work for the DHS. Now, I need some help from you, cause I can figure this out. And I can help you, too, cause I know you’ve got a lot of questions."

    
Betsy closed the door and took down the chain lock. She opened the door as she said, "Come in. What can I do for you?"

    
Jason walked into the house and stood by the door. He could feel that Betsy wasn’t completely comfortable with him.

    
"I have a suspicion that something isn't right with your daughter’s death."

     "Well, what’s it to you?"

     "Well, Ms. Washington, that's actually what I'm trying to figure out. But, apparently it means something. I’m having the same experiences she was having before her death.” Jason cleared his throat. “So, tell me, ma’am, before Tameka died, did she stay here?"

    "Yea, briefla
."

   
"Did anything funny happen while she was here?"
    "Sir, funna thangs always happened when it came to my daughter, she worked for you guys."

    
"Fair point. Ok. Well try and describe to me some key things that took place before she died."

    
"Well, she would call me scared a lot. Sayin she couldn't tell me all the details, but two men keep stoppin by, she said it happened ‘bout fo’ times."

    
"Did she seem to indicate whether she had any clue of why these men stopped by?"

    
"I assumed she did, but she hadn't specified if she had or not."

    
Jason was almost certain her death was attached to politics, at this point, but he needed to know why.

     Betsy continued,
"I do know that she wus huggin and kissin me much mo in the las two weeks of her life."

 
    "So you think it’s safe to say, that she knew something was going down, pretty soon?"

    
"Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that. Looking back, she had started treating me like she’d never see me again."

    
"Anything she carried around a lot? Or kept with her? Or a new habit she ha developed?"

 
    "Not realla. She kept her purse, of course, and she always had to have her little pouch too."

    
"Do you have either of those?"

    
"No, those things were detained neva to be seen again."

     The thought of having to
go back to the complex to regain possession of those things caused a storm of anxiety in Jason’s body.

    
"Oh, then there was this tin box she carried around, give me a moment, I'll go to her room to get it."

    
Betsy turned to go up stairs before saying,

    
"Have a seat in the living room."

     F
urther entry into the house brought attention to a bible sitting on the coffee table. He sat on the fluffy brown couch. Pictures of Tameka filled the house. Jason figured she must have been an only child.

     Betsy came
down the steps with a standard envelope sized tin box. It sat as deep as an average sized novel.

    
"This is all she left here, she wouldn't ever let me touch it, and then when I finally got the chance to look inside it wasn't really anything juicy. Sometimes she’s funna like dat. Or, maybe it’s something you could use."

     Her hand stretched out to him. He recognized the box
, immediately; she got it from one of the labs at work. He opened the box and on the inside of the box was the Homeland Security seal. Above the seal were the words, "Project Subtle Illumination".  Below the seal, “Final War”.

     Inside
the box was a piece of paper sitting on top of other random items. The paper had an odd sentence on it: "Fear acknowledges instantly; threats hit." 

    
What kind of sentence is that?

      "Ok, Betsy thanks for this.
I think this is exactly what I needed. I have to go soon, time is slipping away. Is there anything else that may have been of note, that I should know about in regards to your daughter, Tameka?"

“Yes. I raised her religiously. We studied the bible. She didn’t stick with it, but she was a good girl. She had
a boyfriend who died in the World Trade Center attacks, and she was never the same after that. She joined this movement to have an investigation into it.”

    
“What kind of movement? There are quite a few, actually.”

    
“I don’t know. It was a bunch of family members who wanted the government to look into the incident. She would come home upset for days because they were denying the families’ requests.”

    
The woman began to tear up while she continued to speak. “I remember she was so happy when those senators backed the families cause and tried to pass a resolution to start up a committee.”

    
“That was rejected, too. Wasn’t it?”

    
“Yeah. She seemed hopeless after that. She gathered all those wives and parents up and stormed down to the White House and they sat there all night. Then they stormed an open 9/11 meeting at the capitol building and all held hands while they stared the White House advisor down. It was wonderful. All twenty-plus of the family members in the capitol building holding hands, silently speaking with the sadness on their face. Finally, she got her commission. She didn’t live long enough to see it through, though. She was relentless. She wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. Very studious. Determined.”

    
As the woman’s tears began to flow more, Jason reflected on his experience that day.

    
“I feel your pain. I’m sorry for your loss. Look, I’ve gotta run. You’ve been a big help, and I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of this. OK?”

    
"Ok, if I need to get in touch with you, what do I do?"
     Jason thought about it. That was a good question. He didn't want to be tracked.

    
"Send a text message to anyone in your contact book, and I'll get it."

     "Huh? W
hy?"

     "Just do it.
It’ll work, trust me. But, acknowledge me by name—Jason—in order for it to work."

    
"Well, will the decoy recipient see it?"

    
"I will be the recipient. Don’t worry ok? Trust me. Thanks Ms. Washington, you've been a huge help."

    
Jason walked out of the door, looking for his next destination; he had to find out about this box. This sentence – it reeked of a secret society called, Megiddo. He had to revisit the Headquarters. It was the only place to start; her assigned lab – her computer.

He jumped into his Mercedes and programmed the satellites
’ configuration to his car’s signal.

How am I gonna get into that building?



XVI

 
DHS HEADQUARTERS AT THE NEBRASKA AVENUE COMPLEX: HSAS – ORANGE: HIGH TERRORIST RISK
     "How did he get out of that house?! Huh, Michael?"
     "Josh, This is Jason Upton we are talking about. Don't act like you don't know what kind of talent and genius we are dealing with, here. This is your former go-to guy; the single most talented agent we’ve ever had in DC; the man who designed 70 percent of all the current technological tools you use to be a super power. Please, don't act like you are clueless." Michael raised his voice, a bit. “Why is everyone acting brand new around here?” He shouted. 

    
"We've gotta catch him. Why aren’t we keeping tabs on his body chip? Have our analysts figured out what’s going on with the data back from the agents we sent to search the house?"

    
"I don’t think so. The data is still processing. We only know the vitals of the scene. House temperature was normal, the heat map showed no one but the agents in it. Only electricity running through that house was for the refrigerator and microwave." Michael said, "We'll send out search teams. If he's looking for something, it would have to be in this area. If he's not looking, he's left the area and isn’t concerned with anything but survival."

 
    "Now it’s your turn to not act brand new – we all know he’s looking. So, where would he go? Since you are such a good friend."

 
    "Sir, honestly, I don't know. If he is not in that house, then I couldn't tell you. I-I don’t know how he got out of that house.”

     "He'll be back."

     "You're probably right."

    
"And when he does, you had better be ready, Michael. This is crucial. Your job is on the line, son. The American people are counting on you to be legendary. This is your moment; your test in history. I know this is a test of integrity for you, and it wont be easy. But, don’t let this set us back another 200 years. It has that potential."

    
"I won't disappoint you, sir. I promise."

    
"Where is his wife? Have you been tracking her whereabouts?"

    
"Yes, sir, we have, via her cell phone and body chip. Still, no signs of Jason."

     "Keep looking. R
emember, sir, dead or alive. Protect the operation at all costs."

    
"Yes, sir."

     Josh moved in close to Michael and spoke quietly into Michael’s ear. “
This is bigger than you. But, if you fail, I’ll make sure the whole world knows about your issue. Do you remember that? I’ll be sure to make you the fall guy.”