W: The Planner, The Chosen (33 page)

Chapter 12

W
hen Michael and Jeff had launched the
Where in the World is Father O’Brien?
website, they had badly miscalculated what the federal government’s reaction would be. They would have to do much better this time. The last thing they wanted was to put out a list of names of American citizens being held as domestic terrorists that would become a hit list for the federal government.

“We need to pray about how to do
The Wall,
” Jeff said. “We need guidance so that we’ll know exactly how to do it to keep those on the list safe. I couldn’t live with myself if I caused the deaths of those people.”

The two men agreed to spend the next few days in prayer until they were certain of how to proceed. Keeping the website secure was not an issue. Keith had once told Kris that Jessie knew how to route a website through so many servers that nobody could find out where to pull the plug. They knew that Jessie and Kyle would be safe; it was the safety of the detainees that concerned them.

After much prayer, they agreed that part of the problem with the website that they had set up for Nathan O’Brien was that it had a light-hearted quality. In retrospect, they wondered whether most people really understood that this was a legitimate story. Nathan certainly did not look like a priest—he was young and very handsome. Perhaps, many of those who logged on had thought that it was only a game with a prize to be awarded at the end.

The two men agreed that
The Wall
would be the most serious website anyone could envision. They decided to go ahead with Jeff’s vision for a website that would resemble the Vietnam Memorial wall with the names listed in the order that they received them. They also agreed that they would not begin posting until they had collected five thousand names. It would be a monumental task to collect so many names, but it would be an even bigger task to execute five thousand people. Therefore, the day that the website was launched the first five thousand names would appear along with each person’s place and date of birth and the place and date of their arrest. Their strategy was to overwhelm the opposition and pray that it worked.

Michael and Jeff were amazed to discover that nearly everyone they talked to knew someone who had been arrested for domestic terrorism. The information began to pour in, and they had their initial five thousand names in less than six weeks. The two men verified the information and typed the data into a template that they forwarded to Jessie.

Within a couple of days after the first group of names had been submitted, Keith received a message from Jessie notifying him that the website was up. Eagerly, the three of them logged on.
The Wall
was everything that Michael and Jeff had hoped it would be. But even they had not anticipated the emotional impact of seeing thousands of names scroll by, one after another, in what seemed like an endless stream, each representing an American citizen who had been arrested and held without charges, and each subject to execution without the benefit of a trial.

Michael felt as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach, and he knew that Jeff, who was standing with his back against the wall, was experiencing a similar reaction because the color had drained from his face, and after a few minutes he allowed himself to slide down the wall so that he was seated on the floor. 

After they had finished reviewing the website, Jeff told Keith to tell Jessie to add a template to the Home Page where those logging on could provide information about friends and family members who had been arrested as domestic terrorists and detained indefinitely. Within a week one hundred thousand people had logged onto the website, and
The Wall
had added twenty thousand names that were provided by those visitors.

∞

While
The Wall
was causing a sensation among the general public, it had not gone unnoticed by the federal government watchdogs at the Electronic Communications Agency. The ECA existed for one purpose only—to monitor all forms of electronic communications and shut down any websites engaged in “anti-American speech”.  The agency had redefined both speech and anti-American to include “all speech, whether written, spoken, or implied by gestures, facial expressions, or attitudes that might be demeaning, hurtful, or embarrassing to others.” In short, anti-American speech was anything that the Administration deemed it to be. The ECA had silenced religious leaders, politicians, bloggers, and talk show hosts by threatening them with arrest if they violated ECA regulations.

∞

Monday morning at 9:30 Director Mark Bellman sat behind the gray metal desk of his cramped office at ECA headquarters in Washington D.C. Two ECA agents sat opposite him in the small vinyl and chrome government-issued chairs nervously waiting for Bellman to tell them why they had been called to his office.

Bellman surveyed them with small dark eyes that showed little expression. “Have you seen
The Wall
?” he inquired in icy tones.

“Yes, sir,” the senior agent replied. “We’ve been on it since the day it went up.”

“Really?” Bellman responded. “That was ten days ago. So I guess my question to you is, ‘Why is it still up?’”

Senior agent Barry Matthews shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve got a team on it. Whoever’s behind it knows a lot about the internet. They’ve routed it through multiple servers so that it’s almost impossible to find the source. We are now certain, however, that whoever is behind it is a former United States intelligence officer and that the site originates from either Malaysia or the Philippines.”

“Let me make myself clear!” Bellman shouted. “I’m not interested in your excuses! You either pull the plug on this in the next seventy-two hours or I’m going to recommend you for an early retirement!”

Matthews swallowed hard. He was less than five years away from retiring, but under the new regulations early retirement would mean that his pension would be cut in half. “We’ll do it.”

“You had better do it!” Bellman countered.

Matthews hurried from Bellman’s office with the junior agent following closely behind.

Chapter 13

O
n Wednesday afternoon Jeff was scrolling down the ever growing list of names on
The Wall
when his computer screen suddenly went white and a message appeared that read: “The website you are attempting to access is unavailable.” Jeff’s first thought was that so many people were logging on that they had crashed the site, but when he was unable to log on during the remainder of the afternoon and evening, he suspected that something had gone wrong.

Just as he had made up his mind to tell Keith to ask Jessie what was going on, Keith appeared at the door to Jeff’s bedroom/office. “I just heard from Jessie. The Feds shut down
The Wall.
Jessie said that he’s pretty sure that they can’t trace its origin, but they’ve effectively put us out of business.”

Jeff was both frightened and relieved. If the Feds couldn’t trace the website to its source, they were safe, but the fact that they had been able to shut them down was unnerving.
“They must be getting close,” he thought.

∞

On Thursday morning Barry Matthews was once again sitting in Mark Bellman’s office. Matthews hoped that the director would congratulate him on having gotten
The Wall
shut down so quickly, but he knew from the expression on Bellman’s face that he was not off the hook.

“How many arrests have you made?” Bellman asked.

“Sir?” Matthews replied.

“It’s a simple question.
The Wall
has been taken down. Presumably the website was run by someone—probably several someones—so how many arrests have you made?”

“None.”

“None? We’ve just ended what may well be the most widespread act of domestic terrorism this country has ever seen, and you tell me that no arrests have been made!”

Matthews knew that Director Bellman had been fully briefed on the situation and that he was aware that no arrests had been made. Bellman also knew that they had not been able to trace
The Wall
to its source. Matthews answered carefully, “We are following some leads that we believe will lead us to those responsible.”

“What leads?” Bellman’s demeanor was like ice.

“Our analysis shows that the Nathan O’Brien website and
The Wall
originated from the same source. We’re looking at everyone who had contact with the priest before his arrest. We think that we’ll find our link to the website in that pool of people.”

“Why are you here?” Bellman inquired.

“You sent for me, sir.”

“No, you idiot! Why are you still in D.C.? Get on the first plane out of here and go to the padre’s church. Track down every person who had contact with him in the last three months before he was arrested. Find out who is responsible for his website and arrest them!”

∞

Barry Matthews and junior agent Jake Lovelace entered Queen of Peace Church at 3:30 that same afternoon. Father John, Father Nathan’s replacement, greeted them, but when they identified themselves as ECA agents, the priest was clearly shaken.

“I will be happy to help you in any way that I can,” Father John told them, “but I came here from Vermont only two weeks ago, and I still haven’t met most of the parishioners.”

After a few preliminary questions, Matthews realized that he wasn’t going to get anything useful from the father. “Is there anyone else here who might be able to answer our questions?” he asked.

Arthur Danville had been sitting in the office with the door slightly ajar while Father John had talked with the agents. He had heard their questions and was eager to tell the agents everything that he knew. Suddenly, he was afraid that the priest would not think to call him. Rising to his feet, he walked to the door and said, “Excuse me, Father, do you need me for anything else today?”

The agents turned in Danville’s direction and Matthews asked, “Did you know Nathan O’Brien?”

“Yes, in my capacity as a lay volunteer I assisted him for more than three years.”

“We have some questions for you,” Matthews said.

“Of course,” Danville barely smiled, but his eyes were dancing with anticipation.

∞

Jake Lovelace rubbed his freckled face as the agents drove away from the church. It had been a long day, and he wanted dinner and some drinks, compliments of the federal government. If he were lucky, he might be able to pick up a woman at the bar. When he was in D.C., his wife kept him on a short leash, but when he was out of town, he was constantly on the prowl. As he made plans for his evening, however, his thoughts were interrupted by Barry Matthews’ voice.

“I’m going to call Michael Linton and see if I can get him and this Jeff person to meet us tonight.” When Arthur Danville had produced the cell phone number from Nathan O’Brien’s Rolodex, he had informed the agents that Michael and the priest had been college pals and that Michael came to the church to visit him regularly. For the last year he had brought someone named Jeff with him on these visits.

“I’m sure that they were involved in something—clandestine,” Danville had confided.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, actually, but I keep my eyes and ears open. Not much gets past me.” Arthur Danville was so absorbed in the fantasy that he had created in which he would provide the information to secure the arrest and execution of Michael Linton, that he did not even notice that Barry Matthews was not impressed.

“It’s probably a dead end,” Jake commented. “Linton probably doesn’t know anything.”

“I just ran a check on him,” Matthews returned as he read the information displayed on his laptop. “Linton is a doctor. He was a big-shot heart surgeon, but he got into some sort of trouble over refusing to perform abortions under the new healthcare rules. He then retrained for geriatrics and ended up working for the FMPD in a seniors’ community. In the fall of 2014 he disappeared from the community and hasn’t been heard from since. I think he just might be our guy.”

“I doubt it. He’s probably just one of those paranoid types who’s afraid of his own shadow.”

“Let’s get something straight right now,” Matthews responded. “I don’t care whether he knows anything or not. We can tie him and this Jeff guy to O’Brien. We can arrest them and close this case. I’m not going to lose my pension, and I just might get a commendation. I’m close to retirement, but you’re still a long way away. This is the kind of thing that gets you noticed. It’s the kind of bust that gets you promoted. These guys are it. Don’t over think it.”

While the junior agent drove, Matthews called Michael’s cell phone. The number was blocked, but Michael had given it to only a few trusted people, so he answered. When Matthews identified himself, Michael’s first impulse was to hang up immediately, but he did not want the agents to come to him. He agreed to meet them in a park in town in thirty minutes.

Michael told Jeff that they had asked for him too. “You stay here. I’ll tell them that I couldn’t find you,” Michael advised.

“No way,” Jeff responded.

The men agreed that Keith would go separately and situate himself so that he could witness the exchange between Michael and Jeff and the agents. Keith made himself look even more disheveled than usual and wandered about the park looking drunk and disoriented while he waited for the outcome.

After no more than five minutes he saw Michael and Jeff handcuffed and put in the back of the agents’ car.  Immediately Keith staggered in the direction of a clump of trees. Stepping behind them, he pulled out his burner phone and punched in the phone number and special code that Moshe Linton had provided.