Operation Mockingbird (29 page)

Rabin had taken one of the razors out of its sheath. He ripped the protective cover off and tossed it aside. Alex’s eyes widened as he flashed it in front of her. It glittered in the dim light of the dank hurricane shelter.

Matt’s fingers combed the concrete floor until he found the lens. He didn’t take his eyes off Alex and Rabin as he furiously resumed his attack on his bindings. His hands were slick with blood. His own. The result of miscalculating his target. He didn’t feel the pain as he continued his work.

“Matt, are you catching this?” Rabin said as he ran the blade of the razor softly against Alex’s quivering sternum.

Matt felt the last piece of tape fall away and slowly pulled his hands apart. He pushed himself up and took one step forward ignoring the excruciating pain emanating from his thigh.

“Catch this,” Matt raged as he flung himself at Rabin.

Both men fell across Alex on the table and Matt felt her squirm beneath them. Rabin roared as he stood up with Matt clinging to his back. Rabin took one step back, stumbled momentarily and then regained his footing. He took two more steps back, slamming Matt against the nearest wall. Stunned, Matt released his grip and fell to the ground. Rabin turned around and faced Matt, a small smile on his face. In his hand, he still held the razor. He moved slowly toward Matt.

Matt struggled to remain upright. He looked past Rabin and saw Alex struggling frantically against the binds. The table jumped and scraped across the floor with her efforts. The gun that Rabin had placed on the table fell to the ground. Rabin heard it hit the floor and turned around. He hesitated a moment before heading back for it.

At that moment, Matt launched at Rabin again. Using the jagged edge of the lens still in his hand, he sliced Rabin on the neck before the man drove an elbow into Matt’s ribs, knocking him to the floor.

Rabin turned back toward Matt as he reached his hand up to press it against the side of his neck. Blood seeped from between Rabin’s fingers. Finally, at last, the sick grin
was no longer on his face. Instead, it was replaced with a look of shock and then confusion.

Matt grabbed the empty semiautomatic handgun Rabin had earlier flung to the corner and stood weakly. With the last of his strength, he stepped forward and swung at Rabin using the handle of the gun as a hammer. The blow struck Rabin soundly on the jaw and he fell to the ground.

Matt limped over to Alex. He used the razor Rabin had dropped to cut the electrical tape binding Alex’s hands. He smiled down weakly at her. Her eyes filled with tears. He softly touched her cheek before moving down to release her legs.

Before Matt was able to get even one leg free, a shadow appeared across the floor. Matt looked over his left shoulder to see Rabin standing above him. Blood flowed freely down the man’s neck. His jaw was misshapen, his eyes glassy but resolute.

Matt dropped the razor. He lowered his right shoulder, pushed off with his feet and rolled under the table. As his right shoulder hit the ground, Matt grabbed the gun that was under the table. With the gun in hand, Matt continued to roll over his upper back and left shoulder and out the other side of the table. He stood up just in time to see Rabin reach toward Alex, who was now sitting up but still tied by her legs to the table.

Matt squeezed the trigger and fired two rounds into Rabin’s chest. Two large holes blasted deep into the man’s body as he fell to the ground. Matt and Alex watched as the
puddle beneath Rabin spread out in a pool on the concrete floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ONE WEEK LATER, Matt brought a borrowed Boston Whaler to a stop in the middle of Biscayne Bay. Carlos at the Coconut Grove Marina had once again come through for Matt. He shut off the engine, jumped to the bow of the boat and dropped the anchor.

When he returned to the front bench, Alex had already retrieved a bottle of white wine from the cooler. She handed him the bottle and rummaged around for two glasses. Matt popped the cork and filled both glasses before they settled to watch the sunset as it dropped behind the City of Miami.

“This is gorgeous,” Alex said softly.

Before Matt could reply, his cell phone sounded. Matt stood up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He looked at the device and saw it was the call he had been waiting for. He handed Alex his wineglass, quickly pressed the receive button and put the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dana,” Matt said quickly. “Any news?”

Matt held his breath.

Alex perked up and her eyes bored into him.

“Yes. Good news, actually. Mo will be released this afternoon. He should be back in the States by tomorrow night. I’ve called his parents, told them the news and they’ll be waiting for him at the airport.”

“Outstanding!” Matt replied as he gave Alex the thumbs-up signal.

“Dana, you’re the best! I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, thank you, but I couldn’t have done this without a little help,” she continued hesitantly.

“Okay, I understand. Just let me know what I can do to thank you and ... uh … whomever.”

“I guess that would be me,” a male voice boomed in Matt’s ear.

“Matt, I have you on a conference call with Senator Raul Suarez,” Dana quickly interjected. “He heard about the situation with Mo and volunteered to help me arrange for his release.”

Matt’s eyes widened. Raul Suarez was the brother of Commissioner Carlos Suarez, the local politician Matt had been at odds with over the entire course of the commissioner’s career.

There was a brief pause until Dana jumped in. “Matt, as you know the senator sits on the Senate Intelligence Committee. He used some of his contacts to ensure that the entire investigation of Mohammed was terminated and we were able to bring him home.”

“Senator, I’m really at a loss for words,” Matt stammered.

“No problem, Matt, no problem at all,” Senator Suarez said briskly. “I’m happy to do what I can for my loyal constituents.”

“Well, thank you.” Matt hesitated. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this and … if there’s anything I can --”

“Well, actually, Matt, there is one small matter on which I could use your help.”

Matt should have known. “And what might that be, Senator?”

“I’ve been briefed on what happened down at the Protegere compound. I’d like you to come up and speak before a panel I am putting together regarding cybersecurity.”

“Does this mean you’re conducting an investigation?” Matt asked anxiously. “Looking into who authorized the release of the technology used to commit these acts? Who paid Jack Rabin and Cole Harrison? Can we expect that whoever is responsible will be --?”

“Wait, Matt. Hold on a minute,” the Senator interrupted. “As you know, it’s up to the Attorney General to determine whether a crime has been committed and, if so, whether charges should be filed. It’s my understanding that the AG’s office is looking into this and will determine the appropriate action.”

So far, no one had been willing to conduct any investigation about the release of the technology originally developed through the government’s Total Information Awareness program, or the authorization of the PR firm to conduct its own Operation Mockingbird, let alone who
paid the PR firm or the military contractor and who was behind the whole operation.

Payment alone should be easily traceable. Instead, mid-level officials with the government claimed the Total Information Awareness technology was not sold and, to their knowledge, was not being used. The PR firm disavowed any knowledge of Operation Mockingbird, the computer technology or any media manipulation.

Protegere, the defense contractor that directly or indirectly likely employed Harrison, Rabin and the other men at the compound, was arguing that if Harrison and Rabin were employed by them -- and it wasn’t admitting to that -- then its contracts and actions were a matter of national security and could not be disclosed. Protegere maintained that its contractors were extensions of the U.S. military and, as such, were immune from liability.

“Senator,” Matt began firmly. “You do have the authority to call for an investigation. You could investigate Protegere, the PR firm IMS and even those two mercenaries that were hired to kill people -- that tried to kill me. You could investigate who authorized Rabin and Harrison to murder innocent people.”

There was a long pause.

“Matt,” the Senator finally began, “off the record, Protegere and IMS are denying any knowledge of the activities of those two men. IMS confirms that it had an interest in monitoring news reports and even generating press releases in favor of its different clients; however, they deny any involvement in media manipulation and this computer program you describe. Protegere refuses to say
whether Harrison and Rabin were in its employ and denies any knowledge of any murders on U.S. soil.”

“That’s bullshit,” Matt shot back.

Alex shot him a look. They had already been through this. She had warned him about the intelligence industrial complex. It was a business that was fast-growing and hiring more new employees than any other business sector in the United States. In light of the vast amount of money and jobs involved, both the government and the private companies would do anything to protect their monopolies on intelligence-gathering and war.

“Senator, with all due respect,” Matt began in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. “You could start looking at your own house. Track down the Total Information Awareness technology. Find out who had access to it. And who allowed it to be used for this purpose. Start there.”

“There’s no evidence that government technology was stolen or tampered with, Matt.”

“That’s bull—“

“Matt, as you know, the White House was recently forced to defend the National Security Agency’s spy programs. After that public relations nightmare – not to mention the hit the Administration took on the polls for that debacle -- they certainly aren’t going to admit to this. We can’t even track down the computer technology you say was used to perpetuate this media manipulation. If it did exist, the virus that you loaded apparently destroyed any evidence of it. I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do.”

Matt paused to consider the situation he found himself in. He was relieved that Mo was returning home
but disappointed that it appeared nothing was going to happen to punish those responsible for the deaths of so many friends and colleagues. Sure, Rabin and Harrison were dead, but those executives higher up at Protegere who hired the killers and gave them their marching orders were going to get off scot-free. Nobody in the government seemed terribly concerned about that.

Matt looked over at Alex and saw her watching him carefully. Alex’s record had been cleared but only on the condition that she never speak of the matter. She understood Matt’s desire for justice – not for himself but for Bob and Stephen and their families. But she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice her future – and potentially her life – to go public.

Matt looked past Alex and saw that the sun had dropped considerably since he had begun this call. The bottom quarter of the sun was now obscured by the largest high rise in Downtown Miami.

The Senator interrupted Matt’s thoughts. “I need your help, Matt. As I mentioned before, I’d like you to come up here and speak with my team.”

The Senator continued when Matt didn’t respond. “Perhaps you and I can work together to ensure that something like this never happens again.

And,” the Senator continued, “while you’re in D.C., Matt, I’m sure that there will be some opportunities for you and me to get together for some additional face time and maybe chat about some other topics.”

Maddening as it was, Matt wasn’t naive. He knew that there were limitations on what you could do as a journalist.
You could investigate and report events, issues and trends to a broad audience. That had been done. Thanks to their success in installing Patrick’s virus and sending out Stephen’s message, a lot more people had been able to read the truth about private military companies, the U.S. war on global terror, the U.S. government’s involvement in regime change and the U.S.’s infringement of civil liberties in pursuit of those activities. What the citizenry did with that information was something Matt had no control over. He could only continue to inform and hope that people became aware and that positive change came from it.

“Matt?” The Senator was still waiting.

“Of course, Senator,” Matt replied quickly. Then, after pausing for a few moments. “And, perhaps while I am there, we can talk about how we can persuade your brother Carlos to be a little bit more discriminating about from whom he accepts campaign contributions? Convicted felons are not the only ones with deep pockets who have a vested interest in influencing our democracy.”

Alex winced. An awkward silence followed, during which Matt held his breath.

“Perhaps we can talk about that too while you’re here, Matt,” Senator Suarez finally said.

“And one other thing, Senator. Perhaps you might be so kind as to arrange a few introductions to some of your esteemed colleagues? I’m working on few other stories and their input could be helpful.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Matt. How about coming up a week from Thursday?”

“Sure,” Matt replied. “I’ll be there.”

Dana, Senator Suarez and Matt said their good-byes and the call was over. Matt put his phone back in his pocket and turned to Alex.

“What do you say, Alex. Want to come up to D.C. with me next week? It shouldn’t be too hot this time of year.”

“It’s always hot in D.C., Matt,” Alex said. “Even when it’s cold, it’s hot.”

She had moved to the back bench of the Boston Whaler. From there she was smiling at him. She gestured to the falling sun and beckoned to him with his glass of wine.

Acknowledgements

To my family and friends, for their love and support over the years. I have been truly blessed in so many ways but none more so than by the amazing people I have in my life. To my husband George, the love of my life, without your support this labor of love would never have seen the light of day.