Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero (30 page)

“Explain,” said the man on the other end of the line.

Olivia was wearing the same style of clothing as when she had interviewed Grant, thick rimmed glasses, fitted suit. She seldom wore anything else to work. It was well after hours and she had stayed in the temporary office provided to her on the military base specifically to give this report. She had let her hair down to relieve the headache she was feeling from the long day. Soon she’d be heading home, or at least to the transitory place where her suitcase was living.

“The phone tap is effective. All communications are being monitored, as well as the house’s Internet feed. However, as with all previous attempts, bugging the house itself is useless. Audio surveillance equipment used to observe the subject is meeting the same interference as has been the case previously. All reports are coming from the eyes and ears of our agents tailing the subject and staking out the domicile. Still, they can only report what they see and hear.”

The most frustrating challenge of this investigation, since Olivia had been brought on board, was being technologically outclassed. It meant problems to surmount that she and her team had previously taken for granted. As with previous cases involving the blond man, something about the domicile was immune to their equipment. Microphones and bugs were ineffective. Camera and video functioned, but the sound on the video recordings was always distorted past recognition. Cellular and Internet monitoring only worked because the surveillance could take place at a location away from the domicile itself.

“Has the phone tap revealed anything of interest?” asked the voice.

“The subject has requested an increase to his line of credit.” She paused, then added, “He also appears to be withdrawing from his educational career.”

There was a pause on the line. She waited patiently.

“Do you have any theories as to his motives?”

“Nothing concrete, as you know. This, Jonathan, is unlike most of our previous investigations. He doesn’t fit the standard pattern. He may very well have no idea what he’s a part of and is simply reacting in a manner within the normal expected range of human behavior given the trauma he experienced. On the other hand, he may be reacting to variables outside our visibility.”

“Off the record then, what is your opinion?” the voice asked.

To this Olivia paused.

This was yet another instance where the difference between Jonathan and previous investigations concerning the blond man had somehow seemed noteworthy. It was not only a change in the blond man’s patterns but in her superiors handling of the investigation. The man never asked for her ‘opinion.’ Usually he only asked for conjecture that could be supported by evidence in the reports. She couldn’t put her finger on what was causing this subtle change in process.

“In my opinion, his actions are not what they seem,” Olivia said. “Though we couldn’t get close enough to listen in, we know that Jonathan has met with the blond man. This took place approximately two weeks after the initial incident. They had a long conversation before the man disappeared. How the meeting was arranged without our detection remains unknown, as per usual.”

“Thank you for your analysis. One last thing,” the voice said, “this Private Grant, you believe he will be able and adequate.”

She’d been prepared for this question. She’d formulated a scripted answer to put her personal observations regarding Private Grant aside. Her impression of the man had been bleak from the start. Despite that she’d asked him to be candid about his personal relationship with the female of the house, she’d found his over-eagerness to share details about the relationship disturbing.

He reveled in having an invitation to explain his sexual exploits to her during his reports. She had felt his eyes on her during their initial meeting to a degree that would raise the hackles of most women. The man’s behavior as reported to her from the agents assigned to observe him gave her further hesitance. If she had to put it to words, she would say he appeared to be ‘getting off’ on the assignment. She pitied the girl. Given the background she had on Grant, she pitied him even more. However, her pity wasn’t going into her reports.

“Private Grant is an ideal soldier. We have led him to assume that we’re operating under the Office of Homeland Security. Once he believed that this was a matter of national security, insinuating a potential terrorist threat, he was eager to be involved. He asked no questions.”

“I read in your initial report that he is romantically involved with one of the occupants. As he is not officially part of the team, nor trained for this type of operation, do you have complete confidence that he can adequately serve his purpose?” the voice asked.

“The intelligence we’ve gained from him thus far has been fruitful. His relationship with the girl provided us with eyes and ears inside the house that we would have been hard pressed to arrange without raising suspicions. If it was not for this intel, we wouldn’t have had visibility into Jonathan’s decline in mental state. Private Grant has been present in the house during more than one of the subject’s night terror episodes. This does support the evaluation that, despite Mr. Tibbs’ apparent cooperation with the blond man, he was in fact traumatized by whatever events led to their relationship.”

“Do you believe that his decline in mental state could make him a danger to himself or to any bystanders involved?” he asked.

There it was again, her superior’s question. He’d never cared about the safety of involved bystanders in the past. She couldn’t put her finger on what was subtly different about his approach to this case. It was making it more and more difficult to be prepared for these reports.

“As of yet, there’s no evidence we should be concerned for the general public,” she replied, “as for Jonathan himself, I wouldn’t pretend to predict the behavior of a person under such great stress with no training to cope with it.”

“Agreed,” replied her superior. “Do you believe Private Grant will be able to maintain his cover until disclosure?”

Of this Olivia had no doubts.

“Yes,” she replied. “He will be easily manipulated and removed from the equation.”

“The staging of the disclosure,” the man asked, “any thoughts on our best opportunity?”

“Yes,” she replied.

As her report was complete and her superior satisfied, she pulled the files she intended to bring home into her briefcase. Her habitual attention to detail and cleanliness wouldn’t allow her to clear out of the office until her work space was perfectly arranged for the next day. As she set about the arranging of her desk, she reached over to power off her laptop. Before she did so, she noticed an email had arrived in her inbox.

The header read:
Grant Morgan | Background Details | Oversight.

This wasn’t the type of email she wanted to be receiving minutes after having given her report. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the contracted private investigators to make a big deal out of something irrelevant, given they weren’t provided insight into what was of importance. Still, with some concern she set her briefcase aside and opened the email’s attachments.

She waited a moment for the decryption process. Grant’s basic profile had been provided to her before she’d made the decision to involve him. More thorough background information had come in, but everything had supported her decision until now.

The man’s history wasn’t pleasant.

With a few insights from the investigators, it wasn’t difficult to piece together the shortcomings in his personality. He was exactly the despicable outcome she would expect from a person with his upbringing. Going into the army, though not in and of itself a bad influence, had unfortunately bolstered those shortcomings. Still, that made him controllable. She doubted there was any background she could learn now that would change her decision.

She reviewed the files. The investigator had highlighted the relevant changes, then her face lost its composure for a moment. She’d never have let it happen had there been anyone else in the office to see. She didn’t relish calling back her superior.

Jonathan was getting anxious.

He was making progress at the gym, but all the strength in the world wouldn’t help him if he didn’t know how to use it. He needed to learn to fight.

He didn’t have time to waste taking classes in a group setting. He needed intensive one on one instructions and he needed to start today. Hand to hand wasn’t the only thing Jonathan was worried about; he needed a weapon. There was no point going into the fight with nothing but his fists and some stupid notion that his knuckles were going to win out against teeth and claws. In reality, hand to hand had to be his last resort.

Lincoln had provided some trustworthy leads, but it was going to be expensive. Once he began, he would need to be a machine. His life would be gym, eat, hardware store, eat, weapons and martial arts training, eat, and finally sleep. The trainer had assured him that as long as his martial arts training was not deeply cardio in nature it shouldn’t interfere with his muscle growth, “as long as you’re pounding out punches on a bag it should be fine,” he’d said.

If he was still able to keep his eyes open by the end of these rigorous days, he would spend it doing ‘research’ with his roommates.

One such night, as he was beginning to struggle with his heavy eye lids, Hayden excitedly popped a DVD into the player.

“This one isn’t that well known,” Hayden pointed out, “but it’s one of those B action movies that wormed its way into my heart.”

“What’s special about it?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, I might read into the film more than the director or the writer ever intended. It’s the anthropologist in me,” Hayden said. “Let’s just watch it, you can tell me what you think after it’s over. It’s a Kurt Russell movie called
Soldier
.”

As the film began, Jonathan tried to see what Hayden read into it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t obvious.

In an unspecified future, baby boys are kidnapped out of a hospital maternity ward and raised to be experimental soldiers. Not conventional training, as the military has complete control over the children’s lives and complete authority to brainwash them however they see fit. The children are exposed to all sorts of conditioning as the leaders of the experiment attempt to desensitize them to any emotions, any mercy, any fear, anything that could make them hesitate during combat.

Out of the experimental children, a hero emerged. He was exceptional, the best of the best, the champion amongst the soldiers, the leader. Though, for the scientists and army generals to maintain control, this man is never given any authority to lead his men.

By the time this champion has become a hardened veteran, his commanding officer pits him against a genetically modified super soldier, to which he’s outmatched. Left for dead, the hero is found by a community living in a garbage dump planet where his body was disposed of. Through his interaction with these people, the experimental soldier is able to witness a normal human life.

Inevitably, the super soldier that replaced him returns under orders to exterminate the community the protagonist has become a part of. The hero is forced to kill the entire attacking squadron and the commanding officer, saving his new community, his people, from being massacred.

In one scene, the female lead asks the hero, who hardly ever speaks, “What does a soldier think about? What do you feel? You must feel something?”

The hero, though at first unsure how to answer, finally replies, “Fear. Fear and discipline.”