Battle Road (18 page)

THIRTY FOUR

Dr. Beck walked into the conference room a few minutes after seven pm. In one arm, he carried a stack of folders, stuffed with papers that looked as if they'd fall out any second. In his other hand, he carried an open can of diet soda. Helen and Dylan stood. “Thanks Helen. I'll let you know when I need you.” Helen gave Beck a nod before turning to Dylan. “As I said. I'll check in with the medical staff and see how she's doing.” Dylan smiled, “Thanks.”

Beck plunked down the stack of papers on the table. He reached out to shake Dylan's hand, “Hello Dylan. My name's Doctor Richard Beck. I'm the commanding officer around here. Please, sit down.” Beck motioned for Dylan to sit in his seat.

Dr. Beck actually looked like a real doctor. He was in his mid sixties, a little pudgy around the mid section, average height, with long flowing white hair. His face had a lot of character, as if weathered by years of worry. He was well dressed, wearing an expensive dress shirt and slacks, with a platinum watch. Dylan could make out the name '
Breitling' on the face of the watch, a name he'd never seen before. Dylan's first impression of the man was that we was an old monied aristocrat, born and raised in privilege.

Dr. Beck leaned forward in his chair, putting his arms on the table, his fingers entwined. “Well, it's finally nice to meet you. I've been curious about the man whom Tien cancel her mission for. I've never seen anyone do something like that since I've been in charge here. Which is a long time. So, you must be very special to her.”

“She's very special to me,” he said.

“
You've had a rough few days. I've read Tien's report she submitted this morning. Detailing your escape from DHS headquarters. And I've heard a little about your ordeal this afternoon. We've been monitoring Homeland Security communications.”

Dylan straightened his posture slightly as he shifted in his chair. “Yes, Sir. I have. Uh, we have. Tien and I.”

Beck beamed a friendly smile. “You don't have to call me sir. I'm not your commanding officer. You may call me Dr Beck. Some people like to call me Chief. I'm good with that too.”

“
OK, I'll try to keep that in mind.”

Beck began sifting through the paperwork piled in front of him. “We've switched back to storing all our documents on old fashion pen and paper. It turns out to be the most secure means of storing data. Nobody can hack into these.” Beck tapped the pile of paperwork with his knuckles, a smile crossed his face.

“I know you're tired. And I know you're worried about Tien. So I'm going to keep this brief. First, a little about myself. I'm a medical doctor. Cardiac surgeon over at Mass General. I'm widowed, no children. And exactly how I ended up as one of the senior officers of this organization, well, let's just say it's a mystery to me,” Beck said, while leaning back in his chair.  An awkward few seconds passed, while he studied Dylan intently, sizing him up.

The momentary tension broke as Beck reached forward and took the top folder from the pile in front of him. He scanned the pages quickly. “Paperwork may be secure, but it takes a hell of lot more effort.”

Dylan waited patiently not knowing quite what to make of the man before him.

Beck lifted his eyes away from the documents. “I want to ask you a few questions. Discover what you know, what you think. OK, so, what is your understanding of the terrorist insurgency. What do you believe?” He pulled out what appeared to be an expensive pen from from the top pocket of his shirt and began jotting notes on a blank piece of paper.

Dylan was taken by surprise. He thought he's have to prove himself. Prove somehow that he wasn't working on behalf of Homeland Security. He swiveled his seat back and forth a few times, putting together the pieces of his thoughts on the matter. “OK, uh, if I were to answer your questions last week, I would have said that the terrorists were criminals intent on destroying our country.” Beck didn't respond, he just started writing notes.

Dylan realized the older man wanted more from him. “Well, to go back, for prospective, the War on Terror started decades ago when we fought against the Islamic extremists. The assholes that blew up the New York skyscrapers. But as we all know, the War on Terror expanded to fight the homegrown, American born terrorists. Turning into the War on Terror at Home. This led to the need to reform the Federal government to better handle the war. Keeping America safer. And over the years the number of terrorists have grown until we have reached the point where it can be called a rebellion. But, these last few weeks everything changed. I don't know what's what anymore.”

Beck was pleased with Dylan's honesty so far. “So, up until a few days ago, then. Why would you have thought the terrorists wanted to destroy our country?”

Dylan was quick to answer, hearing the reason a thousand times at school, at work, in the media. “Their goal was turn this country into a God-less cesspool. Take all of our money and property so lazy ass people and immigrants wouldn't have to work. Turn our country into a socialist nightmare. Again, that's what I always believed until recently.”

Dr. Beck probed further, asking the real question he was after. “What made you change you mind?”

Dylan paused, thinking how best to answer. “I met a girl that made me doubt everything I believed. Everything I was taught. A girl who opened my eyes to the truth. Or maybe better put, opened my eyes to who I really was. Though what the truth is, I'm still trying to figure that out.”

Dylan facial expression turned more serious. “There's more to it. What made me decide to throw everything in my life away to try to save Tien was, well, yes, I fell in love with her. But yesterday when Tien was arrested, I didn't know what to believe. I was being torn in two. Then it hit me. They were about to torture Tien. I discovered that Homeland Security tortures people. They torture Americans. And like the proverbial light bulb going off in my head, I realized that a just society does not torture human beings. Not only that, I realized a government that tortures it's own citizens to maintain it's power could never be legitimate. No fucking way. Period. Excuse my French. Once I put the pieces together, that the woman I was in love with, who felt so strongly to fight against this government was about to be tortured, I made my decision in a millisecond.”

Dr. Beck knew Dylan was telling him the truth. He didn't need brain scanning equipment to tell him when someone was honest with him. He spoke to Dylan as a father might speak words of wisdom to his son, “Love will do that to us. Open up our world for us to see things that we may never have otherwise.” Dylan let out a cheerful laugh, nodding in agreement with the older man.

Dr Beck collected his papers, quickly stuffing them into the folders in front of him. “That's it for tonight. We'll talk more tomorrow. Get some rest,” he said, while punching in the numbers to call Helen on his v-phone. “Oh, if you're wondering. All our phones are encrypted. Homeland Security can't listen in on us,” Beck said, seeing that Dylan was looking at his phone with a quizzical expression. “How do you know that they haven't broken your encryption codes? They're pretty good at doing that.” Dylan asked. Beck smiled and shook his head in an agreeable manner. “Two reasons. We're constantly changing the codes and we have agents embedded within DHS. We'd find out if they broke our codes.”

Dr Beck rose from his chair, Dylan followed. The men walked out of the room together,  making small talk. Outside the conference room, Dylan found the two guards still standing on either side of the door, one holding a 9mm handgun with a silencer. Helen was walking towards them in the hallway.

“One thing you should know,” Dr Beck said. “If I thought you were lying. Hernandez here,” Beck motioned to the man holding the 9mm, “would have put a bullet in your head before you could have gotten out of your seat.” Dylan's facial expression changed to distress.

Dr Beck smiled to ease Dylan's nerves. “I also liked your answer about not knowing what the truth is. I always keep in mind a saying from the Buddha, 'Trust no one who claims to know the truth. Only trust those who claim to seek the truth'. Words I find very useful sometimes.”

“Helen will take care of settling you in, whatever you need. She'll also be handling your debriefing. It was nice meeting you and we'll be talking soon.” Beck shook Dylan's hand, then headed down the corridor carrying his stack of manila folders.

THIRTY FIVE

Tien opened her eyes, though just barely. They were still half closed, but wide enough to see Dylan sleeping in an upholstered chair beside her bed. She looked groggily around her dimly lit makeshift hospital room. A small night light casting a blueish white glow was plugged into the far side of the room near a push cart holding medical supplies. She looked down to see an IV needle inserted into the top of her left hand.

An old analog clock on the wall above a white board read five thirty. Tien wondered if it were morning or night. She had no way of knowing since the converted boardroom had no exterior windows and the doors were closed. She wondered how long she's been there, how long she's been unconscious. Her head began to spin. She felt sleepy. Dylan shifted his position in the chair as he slept. She glanced over at him again, then at the bandages covering her shoulder. There was no pain. The drugs were doing their job, she thought. A moment later she drifted back into unconsciousness.

At seven thirty that morning, Helen pushed the door open to Tien's recovery room. She was carrying a couple of mugs of coffee along with a few manila folders. Dylan was awake and reading a two day old newspaper. He hurried over to help her get through the door without spilling the coffee, though she managed to get past the door before he could assist. She handed one of the mugs to him. “I made it the way I thought you said you liked it.” Dylan took a sip. “Yeah it's good.” Actually, it wasn't that good, he was being polite. It didn't really matter anyway, he was just glad to have a cup of hot coffee in front of him.

“I wish you would have taken one of the guest rooms,” Helen said with a hint of concern in her voice. She was speaking softly, trying not to wake Tien. Dylan shrugged his shoulders, “I was fine, really.” He spoke in a hushed voice, as well.

Dylan's borrowed cloths were rumpled. He looked like he hadn't got any sleep. He rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his left hand while massaging his neck with his right hand. Letting out a yawn, he glanced over at Tien sleeping, then back to Helen. “Thanks for the coffee. I appreciate it.” He took another sip.

The door to the makeshift recovery room opened again. This time an older Latino woman, in her mid forties, wearing faded jeans and a red tee shirt entered the room. She greeted the two with a pleasant 'good morning' as she walked past on her way to check on Tien. Helen took another sip from her mug. “This is Clarisa. She's one of the nurses. She'll take good care of Tien while we go have some breakfast. Afterward we need to talk about a few more things.” Dylan stared at the nurse attending to Tien, only half listening to Helen.

Clarisa
approached Helen and Dylan. She spoke to Dylan in a warm caring tone, “She's going to be fine. I'll be checking on her every few minutes. If she wakes up I'll call Helen right away.” She smiled and placed her hand on Dylan's arm to re-assure him. Dylan nodded his head, then asked, “How long is she going to sleep for. Is this normal?” Clarisa smiled again before answering, “Everyone's different. She could wake up in five minutes or five hours. She was awake after surgery. Now she's just recovering. Her body needs sleep. But she looks good. Nothing to worry about. The doctor will be here in a little while to check on her.” Dylan's mind was eased a little.

Helen and Dylan had breakfast in the cafeteria on the first floor. It was small room, as far as cafeterias go, seating perhaps thirty people. A single cafeteria employee handled all the work preparing the food. They both had bacon and eggs, which turned out to be surprisingly good. While they ate, they kept their conversation light, chatting about mundane topics, trying to avoid anything of a more serious nature. Helen took her final bite of the toast and finished her coffee. She tossed what was left of the toast on top of her plate, at least a third of her food remained. She was full. Dylan, on the other hand, had already consumed his entire breakfast. He was just nursing the last of his coffee while he waited for her to finish.

They each grabbed another cup of coffee before leaving the cafeteria and heading over to the stairwell. Helen's office was only two floors up. She always took the stairs instead of the elevator. It was her only exercise these days.

Helen opened the door to her office and entered, beckoning Dylan to follow. “Take a seat.” Helen sat behind her desk. Dylan took the seat in front. The office was a well lit, average sized managerial office with windows that overlooked the highway. It was clean and tidy, with everything in it's place. The desk itself was spotless, not a single paper or any kind of junk was strewn about. Strangely, for an office desk, there was no computer. Only a video phone sat on top of the desk.

Helen checked for messages on the office video phone in case Clarisa or the doctor had tried to contact her office instead of her v-phone. There weren't any. “No word yet about Tien,” she said, before opening one of the manila folders she had been carrying.

Dylan looked around the room as he waited for Helen to read through the documents. There was nothing in the room to look at of any interest, except for Helen. He couldn't help but notice how well her breasts filled her low cut blouse. He felt guilty each time he nonchalantly stole a glimpse of her cleavage.
Stop it
, he thought.

“
OK, sorry for the wait. I want to get everything straight,” Helen said. “First, we're going to get started with your background, education, employment. We need to get all of your information before we can proceed further.”

Dylan nodded, “OK.”

“Dr Beck will be here in a little while. Afterward, we'll talk more about, lets see, it's, uh, digitally encrypted control transmissions for UAV's; Unmanned Aerial Vehicles. Aerial drones. Is that correct?”

Dylan looked at her matter-of-factly and simply replied, “Yup, that's it. Quantum encrypted digital signal transmissions to be precise.” He tried his best to keep his eyes averted from her breasts. She continued jotting down her notes. “We'll only cover high level descriptions. To inform our engineers exactly what it is you'll be teaching them.”

“Hello,” Dr. Beck said, as he knocked on the side of the opened office door. Helen hadn't finished collecting her background information. But that could wait. They both stood as Beck entered the room.

“
I apologize for being early. My previous meeting was cut short and I thought I'd head right over here,” he said, putting his manila folder on top of the desk.

“
Quite alright, Sir,” Helen said.

“
I'll give you a call when I'm done,” he said, while trading places with her behind the desk. Before stepping out of the office she smiled and nodded at Dylan to indicate goodbye.

Dr. Beck relaxed a bit behind the desk before he began speaking, “Yesterday you told me you didn't know what the truth was. Today, I'm going to point you in the right direction. If you're going to help us it's important for you to understand what's going on. It's important for you to want to help us.” Beck emphasized the word 'want'.

Beck leaned back in his chair again. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “Dylan, the entire reason we are fighting is to restore the Constitution. That's really all there is to it. It's that simple. We're fighting for our country, for our democracy, our right to live in freedom.” Beck stopped talking, intentionally waiting for Dylan to respond.

Dylan sat in his seat not knowing what to say. Or even if he was supposed to say anything. After a few awkward moments, he realized Beck expected him to say something, anything. He tried to express himself as best he could, “I think I've known the truth all along. But what could I do? I'm just one person trying to survive, going along with the flow. I think it's easier to believe what you're told than to ask questions.” Thoughts crashed inside Dylan's head of the complicity and complacency of his former life.

Dr. Beck continued his lecture. “The end of our democracy didn't occur when Thompson was elected president and the Freedom Party gained a majority in both houses of Congress, immediately disbanding the Republican and Democratic parties. The end of our Republic didn't occur when the Freedom Party repealed the twenty-second Amendment to the Constitution, enabling Thompson to be elected President for life. No, our democracy ended long before those events.”

Dylan's face betrayed his confusion.

“To quote the Bard, 'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves',” Dr. Beck spoke solemnly. He hoped Dylan would understand the meaning of his words. Dylan shifted his position in his chair. He looked even more uncomfortable than before.

Dr. Beck smiled as he went on to explain, “Dylan, you already know why our Republic ended. You just don't realize you already know. You told me that you chose a safe existence all of your life. Well, so didn't the American people. It started decades ago when our leaders used the War on Terror to manipulate fear in people in order to gain political power for themselves. As our Constitution eroded slowly, piece by piece, the American people did nothing. Over and over again, they chose imaginary safety above freedom. They chose comfort above their duty to protect the rights and freedoms for future generations. And by the time a group of Christian extremists calling themselves the Freedom Party came to power with their mantra of 'No Compromise', our Republic was over. Compromise, of course, being the foundation of democracy.”

Beck let his words sink in before continuing. “The American people are to blame for the end of our democracy. Not any power hungry tyrant. Not an extremist political party. In a democracy our leaders can only do what we allow them do to.” Dylan shook his head. “I knew there was something wrong. My whole life, deep down, I knew. But what could I have done?”

Beck ignored his question. “Slowly over time, a few thoughtful intelligent people started standing up, speaking out what had happened to our country. They of course were jailed or never seen again. But the numbers grew. Eventually a political movement was born. It was called the Democratic-Republican Party. It was short lived, Homeland Security crushed it early on. I tell you this as part of our history. A history that will never be told by the state run media. All references to the political movement was erased from the digital records. This was the beginning of the War on Terror at Home as it was officially called.”

Dr Beck took another break, taking a sip of the bottled water he had brought with him. Dylan sat transfixed, amazed at what he was hearing for the first time. “We had no choice,” Beck continued, “with our political leaders arrested or dead, no political options available to us, our only recourse was to fight. How I got involved, let see, I volunteered to work as a chief of staff  for a friend of mine who became an upper level official in the Democratic-Republican Party in Massachusetts. When the leadership  was arrested, I don't know why I wasn't. Somehow I fell through the cracks. Or was just lucky. I don't know. Eventually, I managed to go underground and help establish the resistance. We've got bases in every State now. But it was slow, painstakingly slow getting started. It took years. We're at the point now, as you probably know, that we have an outright rebellion against the illegal regime in Washington.”

Dr Beck was finished with his speech. He looked content that he explained what he needed to as briefly as he could. “The question now,” Beck asked, “is what are you going to do. Will you join us as a Patriot and fight for your country. Fight to restore our Constitution, so that future generations will know what it means to grow up in freedom. As our forefathers had done for us?” 

Dr. Beck sat back in his chair, folding his arms, trying to get as comfortable as possible. He spent too much time behind desks these days. Dylan looked directly into Dr. Becks eyes, without hesitating answered, “Yes Sir. I wholeheartedly, absolutely want to be part of your cause.” “Excellent. You'll swear in later on, when we get another officers to witness the oath. Helen will be your immediate CO, um, commanding officer. And let me just say, congratulations.” The two men spent several minutes talking about their lives, their interests, their families. Dr. Beck was interested in every new recruit. Especially, recruits he thought held potential.

Breaking way from a mundane line of conversation, Beck changed the subject. “
We already have a lot of software engineers. We need soldiers. Your experience these past couple of days is more valuable than you realize. We could use a good field agent with your smarts. That's where I'd like to assign you. How would you feel about that?”

Dylan thought it over. With so much having happened these past few days, his life turned upside down, it was difficult to process it all quickly. “Yes, Sir. I'd like that.”

“Good. First you'll transfer all of your knowledge on drone communication technology. We have some of the brightest engineers there are. They just need your inside knowledge. Once that's complete you'll start your tactical training.
This command center has a training facility down in the basement. You'll learn weapons, explosives, tactics from the best people we have.
Eventually we'll discuss the strategies we use along with our countermeasures.”

The desktop video phone began to beep, signaling an incoming transmission. Dr. Beck hit the receive button. Helen's face popped up on the display. “Excuse me, Sir. I didn't want to disturb your meeting. But we have good news for Dylan,” she said. Dylan stood up upon hearing there was news for him. Beck swung the display over so both men could see. “Tien just woke up. She was asking for you, Dylan.”