Surrept (9 page)

"The FBI has alerted the nation to the highest alert guidelines domestically, and is complying with all requests from the national and international intelligence and security agencies as Jack described, along with the acute alert threat requirements set forth by the current administration, and will continue to do so until the matter is resolved. We are conducting over seven hundred fifty investigations regarding this specific matter and will continue those investigations until they bear intelligence regarding this matter and detainment or arrests and/or indictments on those targeted."

Leo begins to swivel in his chair.

Kevin adds, "We will act on any and or all threats to the United States domestically and abroad by providing immediately all intelligence relevant to this matter and/or related matters upon discovery of this operation, and the U.S. Attorney General and the White House simultaneously."

Leo laughs quietly, not surprised by the FBI's official position and spins in his chair as Kevin Anderson speaks.

Homeland Security Director Karen Satriano is insulted and angry. She barks at the assistant director of the FBI, "Kevin is that it?"

Anderson snaps back, "For the record, ma'am, and yes."

She glares at him. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. That will conclude this meeting and we will reconvene every twelve hours via live secure video link to share the information we all as agencies can provide to each other to ensure our success. Gentlemen, we meet again at eleven tonight."

Karen Satriano looks up to the camera in the corner of the room, "Monitoring off, please, this meeting has concluded."

A small black box mounted to the bottom of the table has a green light, which goes off per her request. "Now, what is the real story Kevin?"

Anderson responds, "Off the record. We are turning every stone, snitch, confidential informant and wire tap; we're using every resource we have. The entire Department of Justice and all of its domestic and international resources, powers, and contacts are in play. We are in mosques, churches, high schools, colleges, truck stops and every other conceivable spot for a lead. The U.S Attorney General has engaged ICE, DEA, ATF, and the U.S. Marshall's service to work with us in a joint DOJ effort.

In addition, the FBI, on behalf of the orders set forth by the United States Attorney General, has alerted over three thousand six hundred sheriffs' departments and fourteen thousand police departments nationwide. All of which have been enacted under the under the Patriot Act statutes. Those agencies have been instructed to shake down, beat down, and kick down every door, lead, and/or suspects we have targeted, or may be suspected by their intelligence and ours."

Anderson looks around the table. "This is an unprecedented national domestic police action. The present policy is that if any doubt or question arises regarding any subject, the agencies are all instructed to hold and detain any and/or all persons or suspects in segregation and deny all rights until we arrive for interrogation and/or debriefing. Essentially, Karen, we are investigating, watching, listening, and looking up the backside of this entire nation to protect it and its citizens, while still trying to uphold what is left of the constitution of the United States of America. Now are there any more questions?"

Early that Sunday evening David has just finished packing for the business trip to Seoul in the morning. He carries his luggage down the hall and into the living area and sets the luggage by the main entry. He sits down at the computer in the den to check and send last minute e-mails. Dana hears the computer audio prompt and comes out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. She approaches David with a hug from behind and kisses him on the neck.

David smiles. "God, I am going to miss that for seven days."

She whispers in his ear, "I'm sure that you will have plenty of geishas to seek your attention while you're there, but you better not." She bites his ear hard enough for him to get the message.

David winces. "Ow, that hurts, Dana. Jesus. They do not have geishas in Korea, that's Japan, and I'm quite happy with what I have right here at home, as long as you quit biting me."

She coos, "You weren't complaining last night and this morning about my biting."

He pulls her close to his neck. "You are a naughty girl, and I love it. When is dinner? It smells great."

Dana slaps him on the back of his head with the dishtowel. "You sure aren't one for spontaneity are you? You sure know how to kill a moment. Dinner is in twenty-five minutes, King David." She storms into the kitchen.

He did not mean to offend her. "Honey, I have to get these e-mails out before I go, and I haven't even looked at what has come in all weekend. You have kept me a little busy, you know."

Dana leans out of the kitchen and responds wickedly sensuous. "News flash, boy toy, you better be prepared to step up after dinner to the tune of seven day's worth, and I mean ready to get busy and surpass all of our previous efforts. And I mean big time, so get to steppin' on those e-mails of yours, because your baby is going to rock your world, so don't count on much sleep, you can do that on the plane. Mr. Nonstop, First Class." She disappears back into the kitchen.

David types faster and says to himself aloud, "Well, Davie, old boy, it certainly does not suck to be you."

***

That evening Ahmed is reviewing chemical equations and molecule schematics on his laptop. He has been working on his clandestine mission all day. He reviews chemical formulations and is calculating molecule schematic equations when combined. He clicks to the next page and hits print and the new machine on the floor begins to copy his work.

Ahmed reviews the document and smiles, satisfied that he is finished, creating his masterpiece. Ahmed knows that the man at the university will be pleased with his work. He places the papers in his backpack.

He looks over at four large plastic bottles on the floor. Two are ammonia and the other is bleach, and there is a bag of large Ziploc freezer bags.

An audio prompt on his laptop sounds off signaling an instant message has arrived for him. He has never received a message before. He clicks the message icon, it reads:
"Thirty-Six Turns Of The Glass."

Ahmed panics and looks to the bottom of the screen to check the time the message came in,
"Sunday seven fifty-nine P.M."
He finds a pencil on the table and scrawls on a piece of scratch paper. "
Eight A.M
.
Tuesday,"
and draws an hourglass next to it.

Ahmed knows that this will be the only communication he will receive; the time has finally come for him to fulfill his destiny.

***

The next morning a black Lincoln Town car speeds east on Highway Seventy east of Denver through the suburb of Aurora, Colorado. The freeway sign shows arrow transition to the right for Denver International Airport and Pena Boulevard.

The driver glances in the rearview mirror at his passenger as he makes the turn toward the airport. "We will be there in about twenty-five minutes, Mister Bloomfield. That should give you a good two and a half hours for pre-board screening according to your itinerary, sir, and we should be fine."

David sits in the back with his shades on and his head is resting on the seat. Dana was not kidding about her pre-trip itinerary last night. David lifts his head to see where they are at and realizes the hassle he is about to experience at the airport. "We should be fine? I get to stand in line for over two hours, in a human cattle drive with a bunch of pissed off people, and have some knick-knack rifle through my stuff. And then, some TSA person is going to look at me like I'm some Mook, who is trying to get over on them. Fanfriggintastick." He lays his head back with dread.

They arrive at the international terminal and the driver rushes to retrieve David's luggage from the trunk. David reaches for his carry-on bag and then his wallet as the driver checks in his luggage with a sky cab. The driver returns to see him off as David tries to tip him.

"That has already been taken care of by Miss Pucci, sir." The driver hands him his baggage check receipts.

David is surprised once again by his efficient assistant and shakes his head giving the driver the tip anyway. "That girl is just too much."

The driver smiles at his good fortune. "She certainly is, sir. A real class act, and a looker, too." The driver retreats to the car and leaves.

David throws his carry-on over his shoulder and goes inside; he realizes that Adriana went out of her way to choose his driver in person.

He enters the terminal to a mass of commuters moving like molasses running uphill in Minnesota in January.

Dana is in her office. She has decided to get caught up and to get going on Mr. Lucero's next deal to find him another property right away.

She misses David already and it has only been three hours since they parted at his apartment that morning.

Her intercom goes off and the receptionist's voice erupts from the speaker.

"Dana?"

"Yes Gracie. What's up?"

"Dana, you have a delivery up front."

"What is it, can I pick it up on my way to lunch? I'm buried right now."

"I wouldn't want to wait . . . I'll just bring it down."

Dana looks at the phone curiously. "Okay."

There is a rap on the door and her coworker enters her office with a huge bouquet of white roses.

Gracie parades in and sets them on her desk. "I guess you have made a big impression on someone, Miss Underwood. Not one, but three dozen white roses and the vase looks like real crystal."

"I had a big weekend with Mr. Wonderful." Dana smiles as she pulls the card out of the envelope, and a small yellow slip falls out. "Mr. Wonderful says here that these will have to do in his seven days' absence away from me." Dana looks at the folded slip that fell out
Ordered and verified by A. Pucci. A.M. Delivery guaranteed."

The vibrant blonde-haired woman's facial expression turns angry and she pushes her chair back with her legs as she rises and snatches the vase up and forces it into the receptionist's hands with a frontal thrust, apparently startling her coworker.

"Here Gracie, you take them and enjoy the three dozen white roses. Get those out of her please."

Gracie is puzzled as she balances the flowers still wavering from Dana's thrust, "Okay sure, is there something wrong?"

Dana leads poor Gracie to the door and announces, "Other than the fact that I am now done with white roses for life, everything is great. Thank you Gracie."

Dana closes the door, almost hitting her coworker on the heels, and storms over to her desk and slams herself down in her seat as she reaches for her keyboard. She goes to her contact file and scrolls down to
Matthew Cohen, Attorney-at-Law, (303) 555-7991
. She dials the number and the phone rings.

Matt is sitting at his desk typing a motion to vacate the judgment on one of his clients and his intercom sounds off. He hits the speaker button on his phone. "This is Matt."

The receptionist's voice echoes out, "Matt, you have Dana Underwood on line five."

He is surprised. He hits the button on the phone and keeps typing as he answers. "Hey, Dana. So he's gone for less than a day and you finally decide to give me a shot and settle that burning curiosity. Perfect timing I must say."

Dana frowns at her lecherous friend's remark. "Matt, knock it off, I'm in no mood for your libido dementia today, and I need a favor."

He smiles at her remark as continues to type. "Well, since you both appointed me as your best man, which is odd because you're marrying him and I am the 'best man' and you're probably making the wrong choice, what can I do best for you?"

Dana tries to ease into this with her fiancé's best friend. "Matt, you used to work for the district attorney's office when you first started practicing law, and you did investigations for them, right?"

Matt, concerned by the serious tone in Dana's voice, stops typing and picks up the phone to give her his full attention. "Yes, Dana. What's up?"

"Remember when we all went to Vail skiing and you said that night at the bar that you could find out anything about anybody when I was trying to find out who owned that townhouse development project that seemed abandoned?"

"I think I recall that."

Dana continues. "And I thought it would be a great location and it would sell fast?"

"Just give me the address and I'll find out everything about it I can, and if it's still available, but, Dana, that was a year ago."

Dana realizes she has taken the wrong direction. "Matt, I don't need information on that place. I need a complete background history on a person. Everything, not just the stuff you get for twenty-nine ninety-nine online. I mean everything. Can you do that discreetly? And it stays between just you and me, right?"

Matt is confused. "We do that all the time here and, yes, if you are a client we would have an attorney-client relationship. That relationship and all of its content would be confidential. Who are we talking about here?"

Dana asks, "How much would it cost me to become a client of yours?"