Albatross (21 page)

“How about we get better lives?” Becky added.

“I like your thinking,” David said.

David took a moment to collect his thoughts as his raw feelings of anger seemed to seethe out through his voice.

“Look. I don’t know anything about counterterrorism, surveillance, or spying. I’ve never held a gun in my life, and the last fight I had was when I was seven … and I lost. I think that we can help Alex. He may not want it, but anything is better than just waiting here to die, waiting for them to kill Emma.” David knew that implying that Emma might be killed would be powerful. Still, he believed it could happen.
I’m not just going to sit here and watch! Not this time!
David tried to settle his mind down and fell silent. He was still rocking back and forth and holding onto Emma.

This time it was Becky’s turn to talk. “Burns said it could be a year or so to find them. That does give us time to relocate, get money, get resources, and learn how to be—what does he call them?—operatives.”

Samantha took the next step. “All right. I need to meet with Burns face-to-face.”

David felt that his mind was calming down until he reviewed Samantha’s last statement and wondered if it was truly advisable.

“Are you sure you’re the right choice?” David asked. “One of the last conversations you had with him ended with you hoping the bad guys found him and killed him.”

Samantha’s intake of air informed David that she was shocked.

“You heard that? I was on the phone, trying not to let the other passengers on the bus hear me,” Samantha explained.

“Yes. You were loud and pissed. And you were right. It would have been more humane for him to shoot me when I was sedated.” David actually believed that for months now. He knew he would never actively kill himself, but if he wasted away or Burns killed him, he was sure he would not resist.
The pain and loss would be over
, he repeatedly thought every waking moment.

“Sorry. Know I really feel like shit,” Samantha finished.

David felt bad that he had embarrassed Samantha. He really had not taken offense to her statements when she had first spoken to Burns. Someone had tried to kill her. He rationalized her words with Burns as a reaction to her anger and confusion, nothing more.

“You know, sis, you have a real way with words when you’re pissed,” Becky said.

David wasn’t sure, but it sounded as if Becky’s voice lightened a bit as if she was joking.

“Anyway, I don’t have a relationship with him and that may be better in the long run. I can do things you might not be able to do.” Becky continued.

“I can take care of myself and Burns,” Samantha defiantly replied.

David could easily hear the escalation of an argument.

“I can take care of myself. I can make it work,” Becky said, more conciliatory than expected.

It was quiet for a moment until Samantha responded. It was a quiet voice David was not sure he recognized.

“I’ve done things you haven’t, Becky.”

David waited for a response from Becky that never came. David could swear Becky’s breathing slowed.

David was not sure of the emotion that fell on every word Samantha uttered.
Definitely pain. Fear? Guilt? Shame?
he guessed. Rarely did David ever feel compelled to fill the void of silence. He had learned long ago as a therapist that silence was good.
Not this time
, he thought.

“I think we are all going to have the opportunity to do things we normally would never do.” David reflected for a moment and then added, “But that was another time and world. Time to change. Speaking of which … Emma might be a little wet, and the last thing she needs is a rash.” David knew that changing Emma would be anticlimactic. But then this was the first time David had ever changed a baby as a blind man.
Learn something new every day
, David pondered.

Burns was surprised by the ideas and a new angle to take. A team approach would be a complete surprise. Burns was not sure if they were aware that he had accessed the potential sites for emergency relocation of the operations center. He also did not know if they were aware that Burns knew the protocol of relocating critical computer, external hard drives documenting ongoing and new operations at five-year intervals. With the help of these three civilians, Burns could now consider a different strategy with various tactics. Research and surveillance could be significantly enhanced, and this would literally allow him to be in multiple places at the same time. Coordinated attacks and diversions increased the odds from limited success to a possible success. It wasn’t a big difference, but it could be the difference that separated success from failure. It would also keep these new charges that he was now responsible for busy and focused. For civilians, they were thinking outside of the box.

“Look, Burns,” Samantha started. “We will need a list of things you need, what we need to get in order to get established, what we need to do, and how to get ready for whatever the final plan might be. We aren’t spies, but David is right. You’re the guy that has the know-how to help us get to where we need to be to get the job done.”

Burns noticed there was a difference in her voice. He had heard it on the phone when she had broken protocol and called and insisted on meeting him face-to-face. He was surprised she had even allowed him to pick the place and circumstance. Now in front of him, he was glad he had agreed to the face-to-face so he could see this with his own eyes. These civilians have motivation. The steely determination registered in her eyes, and they were unusual looking eyes as well.

Burns was still thinking it over. The whole proposal was really creative and could go wrong very fast. Burns looked into Samantha’s eyes. She didn’t avert them; nor did she try to stare him down.

“What?” she said as she felt her hair on her forehead. “Something on me?”

Burns could tell that Samantha was more than a prostitute. She had gone to school and gotten a nursing degree. Back at the hospital, she saw he was being kept sedated and somehow got him help. Yes, it was easy to see that she was more than a hooker. She was streetwise and had undoubtedly been in bad situations and had survived. He also knew that she had killed someone. Burns looked closely and he was positive she had killed someone before. Her recovery from killing her attacker was pretty quick, Burns recalled. A novice would be immobilized for weeks. She was ready to kill him twelve hours after she killed the female assassin. Burns had a feeling she was more a kindred spirit than an average “civilian.”
She would be very dangerous if she was trained,
he thought.

“Do you think David can change? Maybe kill someone? Maybe a bad guy or someone just doing their job?” Burns asked.

Samantha’s response was immediate. “He lost everything, and he wants it back. He wants to protect Emma, and I bet he would kill for her. He’s pissed, and he’s motivated to make someone pay. In the last two days, he has been walking around, outlining the type of computer programs, including text-to-voice ones, public libraries, town halls that might need to be accessed. He has already started working with Becky to find locations and public access of blueprints and office buildings. He plans to have a budget for housing, food, exercise equipment, and possible employment that gains access to law enforcement and any agencies helpful to the cause. Yeah … he’s already changed.”

“What about you, Samantha?” Burns asked.

“They tried to kill me. I didn’t take that personally because it’s a job hazard. But I have my sister and niece with me. I want to kill them all first,” Samantha said simply.

“Is Becky in?” Burns asked finally.

“She won’t leave me. She doesn’t trust you, and if you hurt me, she will kill you. If I kill you, she will help me get rid of your body.”

Burns knew there was truth in those statements. Her lack of guilt and her street savvy and quick thinking in getting out of being killed in Virginia all pointed to the fact that she had killed before and her sister had had something to do with it. Burns was glad she was on his side. Then Burns corrected his thinking; Samantha was on her side.

“Why does killing me always come up in all of our conversations?” Burns’s faint smile came naturally. Burns did like her. Maybe because of her spirit or directness or clarity of thought. He contemplated more. Burns paced throughout their conversation. He had taken to pacing ever since he had left the hospital and had ventured out on his own. It helped him think.

As he paced, Burns turned suddenly and saw something that Samantha had not done in his presence before. She presented a small, soft smile. Burns noticed that the smile included her eyes, and her nose even wrinkled a little. She tried to kill it before he saw, but it was too late. He knew she really didn’t want him of all people to see it. Burns’s voice had softened. His voice had been soft but firm for some time as they talked.

“Samantha. I like your motivation and this whole plan. But this might take years in the making to get an operational plan going. Can you all hang in there?” Burns questioned.

“My only time line is that we get this fixed before Emma enters first grade. I want to have Becky and her settled in a nice town with a nice school and neighborhood. That is my only deadline.”

“Well, that does give us time to find them and operationalize a plan,” Burns summed up.

Samantha took out a small notebook and a pen. She leaned back against the cement wall of the nearly empty parking garage, poised to take a lot of notes. Burns took a moment and started to talk in bullet-point fashion. As he spoke, he watched Samantha take notes on what they needed to look for in a location, where to buy used materials like furniture and equipment, search patterns to consider, and used computer programs to purchase. Burns especially focused on how to remain off the grid but hide in plain view. A regular schedule of these types of “status operations” meetings was established. A time line and list of exercises to consider for physical conditioning was also worked out. Burns could feel a team was coming together.

Andersen stopped David in midsentence. By the look on David’s face, he could tell that his interruption had caught him by surprise.

“You’re kidding me,” Andersen interrupted. Now he was worried, and he was sure the intensity and volume of his voice had alerted his witness of his concern. But then again, this was serious—his witness was confessing that there were at least four adults training to become terrorists for years now, with a particular US intelligence agency as their target.

Andersen dropped his pen on the pad of paper. He rubbed his face for a long moment and took a few seconds to regroup before he clearly articulated his question. “So you’re telling me that you, two women, a baby, and a spy were now living together with a plan to get back at the US government?” It was more statement than a question.

“You know, when you put it like that, it really does sound like we were terrorists,” David responded. David’s matter-of-fact, clinical response frustrated Andersen.

Andersen stood up this time and walked behind his chair and made sure he was clear just in case he was not hearing things correctly.

“Okay. A group of people living off the grid with the plan to attack a federal agency. Sounds like Oklahoma City and a bunch of people pissed off at the government to me,” Andersen concluded.

For the first time, Andersen noticed that his witness might be more than just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time. David Caulfield’s demeanor was completely still. He betrayed no movement until he crossed his legs, folded his hands over his stomach, and leaned back in his chair.

“I think comparing me and my friends to
those terrorists
and their gripes with the IRS and targeting a children’s day care while killing over 150 people is a bit harsh and off base. Anyway … I have a good reason for my actions. Those people did not.” David finally said.

By the tone of David’s voice, Andersen could tell he had insulted his witness. Andersen couldn’t believe that anyone would have a good reason to commit domestic terrorism.

“What makes your reason better than theirs?” Andersen pressed.