Spy Thriller: The Fourteenth Protocol: A Story of Espionage and Counter-terrorism (The Special Agent Jana Baker Book Series 1) (8 page)

15
             
 

The entrance to the FBI Academy wasn’t as daunting looking as he imagined. Still, there were lots of reinforced concrete barricades, and the Marine guards at the gate didn’t help to diffuse the ominousness of the place. Automatic weapons clung to the soldiers’ chests. Cade pulled up to the guard station and lowered the window.

“Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

Cade held out his driver’s license. “My name’s Cade Williams. I’m here for graduation at the Academy. I should be on the list.” The guard glanced across the interior of the car, then at the driver’s license. He handed the license to another guard who disappeared into the guard shack.

“Would you mind popping the trunk please, sir?” It was more of a command than a question. Once in the trunk, the guard waved a digital device around while another guard searched the underside of the car with a long mirrored pole. The guard came out of the guard house and handed Cade back his license.

“You’re all clear, sir. If you proceed to the left up through the quad, sir, and follow the signs to the dormitories, you’ll find the parking area.”

Cade pulled away and called Kyle.

“Hey, man! I’m pulling away from the front gate.”

“You’re here? I’m just about back at the dorm now. I’ll see you out front. You know where to go?”

Their reunion was prototypically male. The big high five and a quick hug as both men slapped each other on the back. They hadn’t seen each other in months.

“Damn, man. You look lean!” said Cade. “Lean” was guy code for “muscular.”

“Well, they run us pretty hard up here. I’m just glad it’s over. Come on inside, I’ll show you what your government dollars are paying for.”

“They run you hard? Oh come on, what the hell is this?” said Cade, pounding Kyle on the bicep.

“Oh,” said Kyle, “that’s man, that’s what that is.”

They went up to the fourth floor and down the long corridor to Kyle’s room. The dorms were a little more like hotel rooms than the dormitories he had pictured. The rooms were small, and there was no kitchen, but the carpeting and furniture had a distinctive Comfort Suites feel to it.

“Hey, nice hotel, man. You gonna take this furniture with you when you leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah, they’d love that. A trainee makes it into the FBI, all the way through training, then steals seventy-five dollars’ worth of government furniture thereby creating the shortest FBI career in history.”

“All right, so show me the campus. I want to see anywhere Jodie Foster ever walked. I want the behind-the-scenes tour, where only people with top secret security clearances can see, I want . . .”

“You want a good swift kick in the pants is what you want,” said Kyle. “Come on, let’s go have a look. I wouldn’t want to deprive anyone of their Jodie Foster worshiping.”

The campus wasn’t all that different from a typical college campus. Several buildings scattered about, shaded by pine trees. There was a lot of open space and greenery, islands of pine straw, but overall, the place was immaculate. Not a fleck of paper or a cigarette butt anywhere.

“This place is clean enough to be a dang military base,” said Cade.

“It is a military base, you nimrod.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. So where’s the jogging trail through the woods where young agent trainee Starling flipped over that ropes course thing?”

“You are so sad. It’s up here,” said Kyle heading into the woods to the running trail where he had spent so much time. “Cade, now just so you understand a few things, Jodie Foster isn’t actually in the FBI. You understand that, right? And you also understand that just because you’re infatuated with her, doesn’t mean she feels the same way. And you get the fact that she’s gay, right? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Oh shut up, she might like me. If she ever met me. And the whole ‘gay’ thing. I don’t know about that. I think she’s still making up her mind. Give her a chance, you’ll see. She’ll come around.”

The two came across the wooded hilltop to the ropes course. Kyle said, “Okay, so there it is, the ropes course. Give me your phone; I’ll video you flipping over that thing.”

The short amount of daylight gave them just enough time to see a few sights and catch up with each other. Cade told Kyle about meeting a great new girl, but he didn’t talk about what was really bothering him—the whole scene that unfolded this week at work, the panic, the firearm, none of it. It was like Cade didn’t want to spoil a good time with his sob story. He decided not to mention it. They walked through several enclosed bridges that ran between buildings, what the bureau called “the habitrail” and saw Hogan’s Alley, a small makeshift town where trainees practiced car chases and arrest procedures.

In a large open breezeway room there were couches scattered about. A number of photos and award plaques hung on the wall, and Kyle stopped at one in particular. It was a plaque that listed agents who had been killed while serving their country. He looked at it. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. The two men knew what Kyle being in the FBI could mean, but they didn’t want to acknowledge it. Kyle looked at Cade and said, “Man, we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve had a lot of good times together. I’ve known you since you were just a little punk. But we’ve also been though our share of stuff together.”
Stuff
was the operative guy term for tough times. “So what is it you’re not telling me?”

Cade looked a little surprised; his glance down at the floor didn’t help much. “It’s that obvious?”

“Sit down, tell me what’s going on,” Kyle’s duty as a big brother was not over.

“Something happened at work . . .”

The two sat for several minutes as Cade retold the story. When he got to the part about the guys in suits, Kyle stopped him.

“Wait, these guys are dressed in business suits, up on a server floor? You’re sure the guy had a weapon on his belt?”

“Yeah, well, pretty sure, yeah. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up. I have no idea who these guys are,” he said, thinking about what he was going to say next. Cade looked at his friend. “Kyle, there’s something else. When I first walked onto the server floor, those guys were arguing, and I distinctly heard them mention a word that scared the shit out of me. It was the word ‘Tucson.’ They were arguing about Tucson. I know it sounds crazy, but they were arguing about it on the morning of the bombing at that Little League field.”

Kyle’s stern look would serve him well in the FBI. “Tucson? We’ve been studying the bombings. At first they didn’t share all the info with us, but in the last couple of weeks, our security clearances came through, and they told us everything. I can’t talk about much of it.”

Cade slumped back on the couch. He could tell there was a lot more Kyle knew about the Tucson bombings that he wanted to say.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” said Kyle. “You work for an e-mail service provider. There should never be a time when sirens sound and men concealing firearms pour onto the server room floor. But based on how you describe those guys, it would seem like government men of some type. Nothing else makes sense. I have no idea which agency it would be, but I don’t like the sound of it. And you say that on another occasion you put masking tape across the camera lens on the webcam on your laptop,” Kyle spoke as if assembling a puzzle, “and the next day, the tape was gone? The two might not be connected, but it certainly sounds like someone in that company is watching you, or maybe watching everybody, I don’t know.” After a few moments of protracted silence, Kyle said, “I know you, Cade, I know you. You don’t look good. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Kyle’s newly acquired interview techniques had gone into full swing.

Cade glanced down again and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“What if my company is doing something wrong? I mean really wrong. What if they’re involved in something really illegal, and I get caught up in the middle of it?”

“You think there’s some connection between these guys and the bombing in Tucson? Cade, look at me”—he was serious now—“I don’t know what the hell is going on at your office, but one thing they’ve taught us here is to go with our instincts. I don’t care how farfetched it sounds. If your gut tells you something is wrong, don’t ignore it. You’re going to have to find out though. Before you get caught in the middle of something bad, you’re going to have to find out.”

Cade stared straight ahead, like he was looking right through the wall to the other side. “Yeah, I know. I know.”

16
             
 

In the morning sun, nothing seemed as bleak as it had the previous night talking with Kyle. Good old Cool Mac. With Kyle busying for the morning’s graduation ceremony, Cade drove back by the Bella Café only to find they weren’t open for breakfast. He grabbed a bite to eat at a little place at the corner of Potomac and Broadway and then headed over to the FBI auditorium. Parking was tight, but once inside the auditorium, Cade had no trouble finding a seat. The auditorium held exactly one thousand and one people. Apparently, J. Edgar Hoover had specified when it was built that it was to accommodate “over one thousand people.”

Cade sat as close to the front as he could get. Not only did he want to see Kyle walk across the stage to receive his badge and credentials, but the stage of the auditorium itself had also been graced by Jodie Foster.

Graduating from undergrad was a great thing, but this was on a whole different scale. It was a huge accomplishment. Less than 1 percent of applicants are accepted into the FBI. And some of those don’t make it through training. He was really excited for Kyle. Cade glanced around at all the families finding their way to seats. For the first time it occurred to him that he was the only person here who came to see Kyle. Kyle’s mom had passed during childbirth. Kyle’s dad had been a firefighter. Being a single parent working as a firefighter had not been easy for John MacKerron. The work schedule was brutal. He’d work a twenty-four-hour shift and then have the next two to three days off. That meant Kyle’s aunt had to step up to be mom-for-a-day, as she called it.

Kyle was shuffled between houses just like some of his friends whose parents were divorced. One day, Cade happened to be in Kyle’s dorm room when someone knocked on the door. He remembered it like it was yesterday. A knock on the door was somewhat strange in the dorm because no one ever knocked. Kyle yelled, “Come in,” but the knock repeated itself. Kyle yelled again, but there was no response. He then got up and opened the door. A campus police officer was standing there, his drill-sergeant-style hat in his hands. The guy was so tall it looked like he’d hit his head on the top of the doorframe if he tried to walk in. “Are you Kyle MacKerron?” Kyle stood there, not knowing if he was in trouble or if it were something much worse.

“Yes, sir.”

The officer tilted his head down slightly, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “Son, you might want to sit down.” But Kyle’s feet were glued to the floor. “Son, I’m sorry to report that there’s been an accident. It’s your father. He’s been killed, apparently in the line of duty. I’m sorry . . .”

Even Cade couldn’t remember what else was said after that. The officer was speaking, but the words coming out of his mouth were not audible, as though they’d been eaten in midair. For the first time, for the only time, Cade watched his friend crumple to the ground and cry.

The funeral was unlike anything Cade had ever witnessed. Six or seven hundred firefighters from communities all over the state—and even a few from the other side of the country—attended. Firefighters in full dress uniform lined the route all the way from the church to the cemetery. Apparently, Mr. MacKerron had become trapped inside a collapsing warehouse fire. The roof above him caved in, and he had suffered a few broken ribs. His partner was knocked to the ground, unconscious. In what must have been excruciating pain, MacKerron wedged the heavy timber off of his partner, axed his way through the exterior wall of the building, and pushed his partner out into the arms of other firefighters. Then, the interior of the building collapsed. Kyle’s dad was gone, but not before saving one last life.

It wasn’t long before the auditorium was almost full. The graduating class of agent trainees all walked in together. Seventeen men and three women all in their Sunday best occupied the front two rows. The place was a collection of dark navy business suits. The stage itself wasn’t dissimilar to so many others. Huge, long drapes hung across, and a lectern stood front and center with the FBI emblem blazing in front. There were four empty chairs that stood just off to the right. A few minutes later, a man with wiry salt-and-pepper hair in a navy business suit walked out.

“Folks, thanks for being here today. At the FBI, we are a big family, and we’re glad to see you all, our extended family, here. Today marks a very important moment, the graduation of twenty outstanding agent trainees. These young men and women will go out into the world and make this country a better place. We owe them a debt of gratitude.” He began clapping, which cascaded throughout the auditorium. “So before we get started, let me make an announcement. As I look around, I see several families with young children, so I do need to go over the rules of what to do if your child has an outburst. This is the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is a very solemn occasion, and we have rules here. Under the guidance of Stephen Latent, the director of the FBI, the rules regarding crying children are as follows.” He removed a piece of paper from his coat pocket, unfolded it, and began to read, “If you have a crying child, please, please, please, whatever you do . . . do not move from your seat.” He paused for effect and looked up over his glasses. “You are not allowed to remove crying children!” The grin on his face was contagious and elicited laughter. “Folks, the director has four young boys of his own—he understands family, and he understands what an important occasion this is for you. He also knows many of you have travelled long distances to be here, so if your child cries, don’t worry about it. We don’t want you to miss this. This is something you’ll never forget.”

The tone for the ceremony had been set. Yes, this might be a solemn occasion, but they were going to have some fun with it too. Director Latent walked out, and after talking about the training and how proud they were of these graduates, the names began to be read. Each trainee walked singly to the stage where the director awarded them their badge and credentials. This was followed by a brief photo opportunity on the stage with the director, the trainee, and family. When Kyle’s name was called, Cade knew Kyle would be thinking about his father, wishing he was there.

After the ceremony, Cade walked up to Kyle and shook his hand, a firm, vise-like grip, and looking directly into his eyes said, “Kyle, your dad would be really proud of you right now.” Kyle smiled as he fought hard against his emotions.

“Thanks, man. Thanks for being here.”

Back at the dorms, the last of Kyle’s bags were thrown into his over-packed car. Kyle’s new duty station in San Diego would put him to work in the bank robbery division just five days from today.

“Come on, I’ve got one more thing to do before I leave this place,” said Kyle.

They walked across campus to a building they had not toured the previous day. Past a small gift shop where trainees and a few guests were buying FBI paraphernalia, they descended a wide set of stairs underneath a sign that read “Armory.” They were going to check out Kyle’s firearm for the very last time. Cade hadn’t even thought about it. But this whole time, Kyle had been just a trainee. Trainees used firearms daily here, but they were not permitted to carry them. It wasn’t until they had been awarded their FBI credentials that they became federal agents. It was only now that they were authorized to carry their weapons.

“Oh, by the way,” said Kyle, “Jodie Foster walked through the middle of that room in the movie.” Cade looked across the hall into the large room. It was full of what appeared to be DEA agent-trainees. They were dressed in black fatigues, distinguishing them from the gray sweats worn by FBI trainees. The trainees stood at long tables, cleaning their firearms before checking them back in to the armory. Chatter pervaded the room.

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Cade. “In the movie, she walked right through this room like she had come from some other hallway or something. There’s nothing over there but a solid wall. They faked it.”

Cade stood off to the side of the hallway while Kyle stood in line with a few other new agents at the armory window. Watching them closely, he noticed something about the stone-cold look in their faces. They were about to walk out of there as real federal agents. From this moment forward, if anything happened right in front of them, they were expected to react. Hell, Kyle could be driving to his duty station at the San Diego field office and step into the middle of a robbery in a McDonald’s. He would have to react; he was responsible now. This was for real, and these guys knew it.