Operation Mockingbird (24 page)

Rabin laughed. “The public was the easiest part of the puzzle. They gladly eat up whatever information we serve them.”

“You underestimate the public,” Matt retorted.

“No, you overestimate them,” Rabin corrected. “We understand them. My employer has spent years studying them and years feeding them what they want to hear or, more important, what it wants them to hear. People who become obese on the junk food of propaganda are less inclined to be skeptical and ask questions. The news is what we say it is.”

Matt considered this and couldn’t come up with anything to immediately refute it.

“But why would you do this?”

“Because war is a very lucrative business,” Rabin said simply before continuing. “It’s also recession proof. Protegere and other big defense companies have been raking in the dough since the start of the war on terror. But not only the defense industry. All kinds of companies benefit, from those looking through a haystack of phone records and email traffic for the needle that will lead to a terrorist group, to private military companies like the division here at Protegere that trains a country’s police in anti-terrorism methods or provides armed military personnel to guard military convoys and installations. With the economy being what it is right now, the war business is one of the few things keeping this country from falling into another recession.”

“But the war is over,” Matt interrupted. “The President has announced the draw-down of troops in the Middle East. The gravy train is running out for all those companies that rely on the trillions of dollars being spent on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Not at all,” Rabin laughed. “We’re just heading into the next -- more lucrative -- phase for military contractors. You see, the government is drawing down U.S. military personnel in the Middle East in an attempt to appease the American people who are tired of this conflict and the toll it’s taking on our country. But as we speak, Congress is working on a defense bill of over one trillion dollars. And since the troops will be returning home, that money will be
spent on defense contractors and private military companies who will maintain the permanent bases that have been built in the Middle East.”

“The American people don’t want a permanent occupation in the Middle East. And those countries don’t want us there either!”

“That’s exactly why the messaging is so critical. Politicians understand that Americans and others want U.S. military forces pulled out of the Middle East. They’re getting tremendous pressure from their constituents to get out of that quagmire. But they also understand the importance of stabilizing those regions and the importance of the dollars paid in connection with the war, dollars that ultimately flow back into the U.S. So, defense contractors -- like my client -- are prepared to bridge the gap. We have trained personnel that are prepared to occupy the permanent bases that have been created and maintain order and peace until the local governments can step up.”

“For a price,” Matt interjected.

“Of course, Matt. And it’s a pretty substantial price. That’s why there is so much riding on this trillion-dollar defense bill currently before Congress. That’s why our job was so critical. Too much bad publicity about the Middle East and the American people will start demanding that we give up and have no further involvement there. But if they are lulled into a sense of security, they won’t care about a blanket bill with no clear itemization of how the overall trillions are being spent there.” Rabin paused and watched Matt absorb what he had just said.

“Not only that, but it’s all very good for the economy,” Rabin continued. “Defense contractors benefit from the funds they receive. The general public benefits from the jobs created by the defense contractors.” Rabin stopped and smiled before continuing. “Actually, I think you could characterize this media campaign as our own little stimulus package.”

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t say ‘thank you,’ on behalf of the American people,” Matt replied sarcastically. “I count at least four Americans that have died from your so-called stimulus package.”

“Unfortunate casualties for the greater good,” Rabin replied quickly.

“Tell that to the families of the people you’ve killed.” Matt snapped.

Rabin sighed. He checked his watch and then turned his attention back to Matt.

“Matt, we’ve gotten a little off track here.” Rabin sat back down before continuing. “You’re in some very serious trouble with some very dangerous people. But I might be able to help you.”

“How do you figure that?” Matt blurted out.

“Simple,” Rabin responded. “If you tell me everything you know and give me the names of everyone you spoke with about this, I’m sure we can figure some way out for you.”

Matt knew it was irrational, but there was some part of him that wanted to believe that there was still some way he would make it out of here alive. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ignore everything he had just learned. But if he could just
make it out of the compound alive, he could figure out his next move.

“You know everything I know,” Matt said. “The only person I confided in that you haven’t killed is Alex.”

“Yes, Alex,” Rabin said. “She was a bad choice for a confidant.”

Rabin laughed and Matt felt sick thinking about how he had trusted her and even fallen for her.

“Who else, Matt?” Rabin asked. “We know you met with the family of your friend Mohammed Al-Ahmed and we know you met with your ex-girlfriend. Dana Fried, is it?”

“They’ve got nothing to do with this,” Matt said quickly. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“We need to be sure of that. Tell me what you told them.” He continued when Matt didn’t respond. “It would save me having to make a trip to see them, although I can assure you that Harrison would very much like to meet your girlfriend Dana.”

Matt shot a quick look at Harrison who was smiling again.

“I told you they don’t know anything.”

Before Rabin could say anything further, though, his cell phone rang. He pulled the phone from his pocket, looked at the number and frowned slightly. He pushed a button and put the phone to his ear.

“Yes,” he said in a clipped tone as he stepped a few steps away to take the call. He listened for several seconds before terminating the call. Turning to Harrison, Rabin nodded and gestured toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Matt. Think about what I said.”

Rabin turned to the other guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

He strode from the room with Harrison following closely behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE GUARD LEFT TO watch over Matt was younger than Rabin and Harrison, probably in his late 20s. He had an M-16 rifle slung across one shoulder and a Beretta attached to his side along with extra ammo clips for both weapons. Matt also noticed a large knife case strapped to his belt. A few attempts at dialogue yielded nothing more than grunts and, ultimately, a punch to the stomach that left Matt doubled over and gasping for air. So the two men sat in silence, eyeing each other warily.

After several minutes they heard voices coming from outside the room. Both men turned to look toward the door. Matt couldn’t make out what was being said, but he detected raised voices and the sounds of an argument. He recognized one of the voices as that of Alex although he couldn’t make out her words. Eventually, he recognized the other as Harrison’s voice. The voices grew louder as the exchange seemed to become more heated.

Suddenly the door was flung open and Alex stormed in with Harrison close behind. Alex’s lips were pressed together, her eyes fixed in front of her. Harrison’s face was red but quickly turning to purple.

The guard had risen immediately upon the door’s swinging open and he now stood at attention as he watched them cross the room. Alex strode toward Matt and the guard as she motioned for the guard to stand down. The guard continued standing, his eyes darting between Alex and Harrison and then back again.

“I told you,” Alex said, raising to her full height and turning to stand within inches of Harrison. “It’s my turn.”

“And I told you,” Harrison spat out, “we wait for Rabin. He wouldn’t want us to do anything without him.”

“Rabin would want us to do the jobs we were hired to do,” Alex replied firmly. “I’m going to do mine and interrogate the prisoner.”

“Rabin’s still dealing with Central Command,” Harrison said tightly. “We wait.”

“You wait. We need information and I’m going to get it. I have been handling this guy for the last several days, rather well I might add.”

Matt had to reluctantly agree with her on that point. To his consternation, she had manipulated him all along and led him right into their trap.

“You can go or stay, Cole,” Alex continued. “It’s your call. If you want to stick around, I don’t mind. I’m sure you would learn a few things.” With that she turned her back on Harrison and her attention toward Matt.

Matt looked past her to Harrison. His eyes blazed with fury as he fingered the trigger of his gun still strapped across his chest. The other hand was clenched tightly in a fist.

“Stay here,” Harrison commanded the guard before he stormed out of the room.

The guard looked over at Alex. She gave him a curt nod before moving closer to Matt.

“So, Matt, how are you doing?” she said standing in front of him. She spoke calmly and without any hint of the conflict he had just witnessed.

“Go to hell,” Matt replied through clenched teeth.

“Now, that’s no way to talk to me after all we’ve been through,” she continued as she began to pace in front of him.

It took everything Matt had to keep from looking directly at her. He wondered what she was up to but avoided her eyes.

She was wearing the same thing she had been wearing this morning when he watched her get dressed. Polished black boots, blue Jeans and a white T-shirt under a fitted black blazer.

Yet the woman standing before him now seemed entirely different. This morning she seemed tentative, unsure about whether they should keep the appointment, concerned about whether she and Matt should go to the police. Now she seemed confident, completely in control. Her stance was taller, more rigid. She had a nine-millimeter gun strapped to her black belt. That was new and definitely added an edge to the woman he thought he knew. Not quite the Lois Lane meets Julia Roberts he had originally thought. Matt cursed himself for having been so gullible.

“You set me up,” he spat out.

“Well, yes, but you’re not going to let a little thing like that stand in the way of a meaningful discourse, now are
you?” Matt caught her flashing the guard a smile at her own joke.

Alex walked slowly around the room touching various items, casually picking things up and putting them down.

Matt had nothing more to say. He looked over at the guard. The young man seemed to be growing bored and he was no longer watching them.

Alex approached the workstation across from Matt and picked up a baseball. Not a typical baseball. This one had the old Florida Marlins logo on it. Matt could make out the markings of an autograph. He tried to make out the name from where he sat if for no other reason than to avoid eye contact with Alex. But Alex soon began tossing the baseball from one hand to the other.

“Trust me, Matt, it would be better for you to talk to me instead of Rabin. He’ll make the process much more difficult, more painful, than it needs to be.”

Matt didn’t take his eyes off the baseball as it was propelled from left to right to left to right in an uninterrupted cadence. He watched her approach the desk where the guard sat, flipping through a magazine.

Alex left Matt’s line of vision, but he could hear the ball firmly slap against the palm of each hand as she walked around the room. Left. Right. Left. Right. Suddenly, he heard the ball make one final slap, louder than the rest, then a muffled sound as it fell onto the industrial carpet floor. Then nothing.

Matt tried to turn his body, straining his neck as far as he could. He saw the guard clutching his head as he struggled to rise. Before the guard could stand, Alex
delivered another blow to the head, this time with the butt of her gun. The guard crumpled to the floor.

“What the hell is going on?” Matt forgot his restraints and attempted to rise. He brought the chair halfway up with him before he fell back with a thud.

Alex didn’t respond. She strode toward him, reaching inside her jacket toward a black nylon sheath hooked on her waist band. She pulled out a knife and pressed a button with her thumb. A four inch serrated blade shot forward, pointing directly at Matt’s chest.

“Alex, don’t do this!” Matt shouted.

Alex was within striking distance when she reached past him and grabbed the telephone from the desk behind him. In one swift motion, she sliced the cord beginning at the base of the phone and pulled the rest out of the wall.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed as she walked back toward the guard who hadn’t moved.

“What are you doing?”

She proceeded to hog-tie the guard in what seemed like record rodeo time.

“I’m getting us out of here. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Like hell you are,” Matt spat out. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Alex started back towards him, the knife once again pointed towards him.

“Matt, we haven’t got much time.” With a quick swipe, she cut the electrical tape used to tie his left arm to the chair.

“Harrison will have Rabin back here any minute.” Then she sliced the tape holding him on the other side.

She went back to the guard, testing the ties. She then went through his vest pockets, grabbing the extra ammo strapped to his body.

The Beretta was lying on the floor next to the guard, exactly where the guard had dropped it when he was hit the second time. Seeing his opportunity, Matt dove for the gun. Alex must have seen the lunge and guessed his intentions. She quickly followed. Matt got to the gun first. They were both squatting down on the ground, but Matt had the gun and it was pressed against the bottom of her chin.

“What the hell’s going on, Alex?”

“I’m trying to get us out of here, Matt,” she responded through clenched teeth. “Now, put down the gun.”