Chapter 18
Posted: July 20, 2007 - 11:34:11 pm


After the funeral, Mike returned home to find that his lawn had been mowed. He stepped out of his car and looked at the freshly mowed grass. There were still bald patches that constituted an eyesore, but the lawn was improving. It was the first time he had been home since the morning of the attack on the mall. He had expected to see newspapers spread over the porch and mail billowing out of the mailbox. Instead, everything looked neat.

Bob came over with a stack of mail in his hand. Not really knowing what to say, he said, "I brought your mail over."

"Thanks, Bob. Thanks for everything," Mike said accepting the mail with his good hand. He slipped the mail between his left arm and body to hold it while allowing him to use his right hand.

"I'm really sorry about Karen and Robert," Bob said in a sad voice.

"Thank you," Mike said. He dimly recalled that Bob and his wife had been at the funeral.

Bob looked at the bandages around Mike's left hand thinking that the whole story about him being in the hospital was a fabrication. He'd have known if Mike was going into the hospital. There was no way that he was going to ask about it though. There were times when Mike's knowledge about what was going on scared him. He asked, "How's your hand?"

"It hurts," Mike answered looking at it. The dull throbbing pain of his hand was the one constant in his life.

"The pain pills aren't helping?" Bob asked concerned.

"I'm not taking any pain pills," Mike answered. It was his hope that the dull throbbing pain would keep his mind from the other problems in his life. It wasn't working.

"Oh," Bob said frowning at the news. Bob licked his lips and started to say something, but stopped before the words came out. Nervous, he said, "Mike, I know you've had a horrible loss, but you do need to take care of yourself."

Appreciating the concern, Mike gave his neighbor a weak smile and said, "Don't worry about me. I am taking care of myself. I just don't want the painkillers."

Nodding his head, Bob said, "If you need anything, I'm just next door."

"Thank you, Bob," Mike said. He appreciated the offer, but couldn't think of anything that he would need. That didn't diminish the value of the offer though. He said, "You're a good man, Bob. I appreciate your concern."

After Bob returned home, Mike went into the house and looked around at it. There were a few of Robert's toys scattered around on the floor. There were other little signs that Karen had left the house fully intending to return home before Mike. There was the trace odor of rotten meat in the air. He was sure that his mother had thrown away some meat that Karen had put on the kitchen counter after she had taken it out of the freezer to defrost. Some dirty clothes were on the bed where Karen had changed before heading out to the mall.

It seemed that no matter where he looked, there was something to remind him that Karen and Robert were no longer in his life. He dumped the mail he had been carrying around on the dining room table. Sorting through it took a few minutes. For the first time in his life, he was pleased to see bills. They distracted him for a few seconds and reminded him that life had to go on.

He went into the living room and sat down in his chair. The rocking chair across the room from him reminded him of how he had watched Karen breastfeed Robert. It reminded him of how he had felt at the time. The tears followed and didn't stop for hours.

The situation screen at the head of the room showed a map completely covered by a complex array of colored dots of various sizes. More than a week away from the Internet Café had brought about some changes. It was obvious that the other analysts had made some progress in mapping out the terrorist network. Mike stared at the screen for a full minute and then asked, "Would someone explain to me what I'm looking at?"

"We've taken the ideas that you had to their logical conclusion," Jack McElroy answered. He rose from his chair and walked to the front of the room. Pointing at the screen, he said, "The yellow dots are Muslim owned gas stations. We replaced the out-of-date census data with telephone data that we got from the NSA. The brightness of the green areas shows the density of people with the name Mohammed. By doing that we came up with a few more clusters of Muslims that didn't exist in 2000. The orange dots are locations with major Islamic schools."

"The red dots show locations of major terrorist attacks. We've redefined what constitutes a major attack. It now requires a level of organization behind it rather than death toll. That changed the map significantly by discounting the attacks by individuals who are working alone," Shirley Holbrook said. That particular idea had been hers and she was quite proud of it.

"There isn't a pattern to the major attacks," Mike said staring at the screen.

"We think that is a pattern in itself," Shirley said getting excited. She shifted in her chair to look at Mike directly.

"Why?"

Shirley ran her fingers over the keyboard and the static display was replaced by a time lapse replay of major attacks. She said, "We figure they are using two teams to provide surveillance of a target. The first team is charged with identifying one or more targets. This team works for the primary mission planner and are considered indispensable. They are highly trained to know what kinds of things to look for in a target. However, they have to focus on one effort at time. That wouldn't let them attack too many high value targets. So they have a second team that goes in and fills in the details.

"The second team doesn't know anything about the first team. They just receive some preliminary data about the target. They go through and do a detailed surveillance of the target area. They are expendable so that if they are caught it is not a great loss. They don't know much about the true organization beyond some low level messenger."

"So what does that mean in terms of a lack of a pattern?"

"The first team goes onto another location. They can't hang around in case the second team is caught and brings attention into the area. The result is that the first team is busy at work two or three sites ahead of the next attack," Shirley explained.

Looking at all of the green dots, Mike asked, "Where in the hell did all of those people come from?"

"From all over the world," Jack answered.

Jim Donnelly said, "There has been a lot of conversion to Islam in the prisons. Unfortunately many of the Imams that have been visiting the prisons are radicals."

"Have we made any progress in getting information about those isolated gas stations?" Mike asked.

Jim answered, "We've been in contact with local law enforcement. They are watching the gas stations and providing weekly reports of activities there. The larger yellow dots are places where visitors have stayed for a day or two before moving on to their destination. We've been able to track the movements of people through the network now."

Nodding, Mike studied the situation board for a full minute thinking about the detail of information presented in it. They had the populations mapped out and the movement networks identified. That was a significant result, but it wasn't enough. It still didn't identify the critical individuals who were planning the operations. It didn't give them insight into what was going to happen next. He asked, "What are you working on now?"

"We're stuck," Jack answered.

Mike said, "Let's do one thing more. I'd like to see what happens when we add INS data detailing the destination cities specified on visa applications over the past year. I want to concentrate on individuals from Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt, and Syria."

Shirley said, "We don't have anyone from INS here."

"I'll correct that situation," Mike said moving over to the telephone. Five minutes later an agent from the INS had been assigned to report to their location the following morning.

Mike sat down at his chair focused entirely on the problems facing them. There was one problem that no one had reported upon. He asked, "So what is going on with respect to the two missing rail guns?"

"We think they are in the Washington DC area," Charlie answered.

"Why do you say that?" Mike asked.

Charlie brought up a map of the Maryland, Virginia, and DC area on another screen. There were half a dozen places marked on the map with crosses. He answered, "We believe that all of the rail guns were in the area on the morning of the attack on our locations. We think there was a problem that morning and two of them were unable to make it to their assigned locations. We've identified a number of businesses owned by Muslims that have facilities where they could hide the rail guns."

"Is that it?" Mike asked thinking it was pretty flimsy thinking.

"Well, we did discover that four Muslim males were arrested for drunk driving the night before the attack. We think they were the reason that the rail guns didn't make it to their targets. With all of the attention by the police, I'd say it is a pretty good bet that the terrorists have not had a chance to move the rail guns," Charlie answered with a grin. He waited for the next question.

"Where did they work?" Mike asked.

"At the businesses marked with the two largest crosses," Charlie answered.

Jim said, "We've got people watching all of those locations. If they try to move out, we'll see it and nab them."

Shaking his head, Mike said, "You say they were arrested drinking. That isn't exactly what we'd expect of good Muslim men. Maybe we can get them drunk and they'll tell us what we want to know."

"We can't," Charlie said.

"Why not?" Mike asked. He hadn't been serious about getting them drunk, but Charlie's comment required clarification.

Charlie said, "They turned up dead two days after they had been arrested."

"Shot?"

"Their heads were cut off," Charlie answered.

The ringing of the telephone woke Mike from his afternoon nap. It seemed to him that he was sleeping all of the time that he was away from work. He staggered out of his chair and answered the telephone with a gruff, "Hello."

"Hello, Mike. This is Sanjay."

Mike shook his head to jump start his brain. Trying to sound a little more cheerful, Mike said, "Hello, Sanjay. How are you doing?"

"I am fine, Mike. Teva found some very nice Angus beef steaks that are cut an inch and a half thick. Would you like to come over for Barbecue tomorrow night?" Sanjay asked.

To say that Mike wasn't tempted to answer yes would be a lie. For the past week he had not had any interaction with anyone outside of work. Instead, he answered, "I'd like to do that, but I'm afraid that I wouldn't be very good company. I'm really sorry, but I have to refuse. Thanks for the offer, though."

Sanjay was silent for a good ten seconds trying to come up with an answer. Finally, he said, "Don't worry about being good company. We would just like to see you."

"I'm sorry, but I can't yet," Mike said.

After the call was over, Sanjay turned to his wife and said, "He is very sad. I'm worried about him."

Vincent Dougherty was not the kind of man who accepted no in response to an invitation. Feeling very ill at ease, Mike found himself seated in Vincent's study drinking two fingers of scotch. If he hadn't respected the Admiral so much, he would have swallowed the scotch in one go and asked for a refill. Instead, he took a small sip of his drink before saying, "I'm sorry that I couldn't protect Karen."

Letting loose with a sigh, Vincent said, "I am tired of dealing with people who feel guilty for things that were beyond their control. Sally is practically suicidal because she feels guilty that she hadn't gone to the mall with Karen. Can you imagine that?"

"Yes," Mike answered understanding it only too well.

"I don't understand it."

"I do," Mike said in a flat emotionless tone of voice.

"I don't. Could you explain it to me?" Vincent replied watching Mike carefully.

"She believes that if she had gone with them to the mall that things would have turned out differently. She thinks that if she had gone, Karen would still be alive," Mike answered.

"Do you believe that it would have turned out any differently if she had gone with Karen?" Vincent asked.

"Yes. We would have had to bury Sally too," Mike answered confident of his answer.

"You don't think she would have realized what was going on?"

"No," Mike answered.

"Why?"

The attack had been extremely subtle. No one would have thought twice about a store filled with heaters, air conditioners, and dehumidifiers running a humidifier or having operational humidifiers scattered around the mall with advertising of the store's grand opening. No one would think that the humidifier was spraying Sarin into the atmosphere rather than water vapor. They would have walked past without a second thought. He answered, "The attack was extremely clever."

"Would you have caught it?" Vincent asked.

Mike shook his head and answered, "No. I walked past the source several times and didn't think anything of it despite knowing that something was killing people there."

"So why are you blaming yourself for her death?" Vincent asked looking Mike directly in the eye.

"I am supposed to protect her from harm. She died and I wasn't even there," Mike answered.

Shaking his head, Vincent knew that Mike was by Karen's side at the end. He said, "I can't blame you for Karen's death anymore than I can blame Sally. Karen was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is a fact."

"I know," Mike said taking a good sip of his scotch. He looked at his father-in-law and said, "It doesn't make me feel any better knowing that, Admiral. I keep thinking about all of the things that I could have done, but didn't do."

"Like what?"

"Tell her not to go to the mall," Mike said.

Snorting, Vincent asked, "Do you really think you could have kept Karen from going to the mall? Before you answer that, remember that I've known her ever since she was a baby."

"I probably couldn't have done that," Mike said.

"So stop beating yourself up over it."

"I'll try," Mike said believing that it was an impossible task.

Mike watched the evening news on the Wolf News Channel. There was an interview with Anthony Archer. He was sandwiched between a conservative and a liberal reporter. The conservative reporter said, "You are a candidate in a conservative party. I've looked through your record and there is very little in there about your positions on a number of conservative issues. For example, what is your position on abortion?"

"That's a non-issue," Anthony Archer answered.

Surprised by the answer, the conservative reporter asked, "What do you mean that is a non-issue? If you are elected President, you'll be putting justices on the Supreme Court."

"I mean that it is a non-issue. We are not facing a crisis of abortion in this country. We are not facing a crisis of family values. We are not facing a crisis of stem cell research. I'm sorry, but all of those subjects mean absolutely nothing in this election," Anthony said.

Even though he was fully prepared to disagree with the positions of a conservative candidate, the liberal reporter was surprised to find that the man didn't care about the issues. He asked, "What do you mean they mean nothing in this election?"

"There is only one issue that is important. We have terrorists killing Americans in our home towns. If we don't take care of that problem, it won't matter who I appoint to the Supreme Court," Anthony answered.

"You can't be serious," said the liberal reporter. The expression on his face looked like he had just bitten into a lemon.

Anthony looked at the liberal reporter and said, "I'm very serious. We are very close to losing our entire government. Earlier this year, four policemen prevented terrorists from destroying the White House and killing the majority of the members of Congress. Three times this year the National Guard has been called upon to restore order inside our cities. If we don't stop the terrorists before they successfully bring down our government, then we won't have a constitution protecting our rights."

"You are a fascist looking to get elected by running a campaign based on fear," the liberal reporter said.

"Wake up! I'm running a campaign based on reality and not politics. Three weeks ago, my wife was killed by terrorists in a shopping mall. The terrorists released Sarin gas that killed over a hundred people. This wasn't one crackpot individual working alone. At least twenty people were involved in planning and carrying out this plot. It wasn't a crime of passion! It wasn't a crime of revenge! It was an organized direct attack on the United States of America," Anthony said.

"You've lost your objectivity because of the tragedy that befell your wife. I think that is a very dangerous failing in a man who wants to be President," the liberal reporter replied feeling rather smug at the comment.

"I respectfully disagree with you. I am objective. The problem is that you are not objective. You can not face facts without allowing your political position to interfere with an objective assessment of the events occurring around you. Over five thousand Americans have been killed by radical Muslims; we have had riots in the streets as a result of a breakdown of social order; and our government was nearly destroyed by individuals acting under the orders of a foreign government.

"Those are facts! You can look them up. No matter what motivations you want to apply to the terrorists, you can't change the fact that they are killing Americans. Those people aren't citizens of this country. You can't change the fact that they are acting under the orders of foreign leadership. You can't change the fact that they are destroying the social order of this country.

"If we want to save this country, we have to respond. That is the only issue that is of any significance in this campaign," Anthony said.

"That's a very radical and fascist position you are taking," the liberal reporter said.

Anthony smiled at him and asked, "Do you care about a woman's freedom to choose an abortion? Do you think it is important that two people of the same gender are free to marry each other?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. If we don't act soon to stop the terrorists, then all of those issues will be decided for us. Islamic law is very clear on all of those issues," Anthony said with a chilling smile.

The conservative reporter said, "While I agree with you on the issue of protecting this country, I'm still concerned about your stance on other issues."

"Then you're just as much of a fool as the other guy," Anthony Archer replied.

In the middle of a Saturday afternoon several weeks after the funeral, an elderly oriental woman knocked on Mike's door. After checking through the peep hole, Mike opened the door and asked, "What do you want?"

"Teva sent me," the woman answered catching a glimpse of the gun in his hand. Unfazed by the weapon, she peered around Mike to check out the house. She was surprised to find that it was spotless. She had expected it to be a mess.

"Teva sent you?" Mike asked wondering why Sanjay's wife would send this woman to his house.

"Yes," answered the woman as she pushed her way around Mike and into the house.

Surprised by the force with which the woman had pushed him aside, Mike raised his pistol to point it at her. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall. Her gray streaked hair was cut in a short utilitarian style. He lowered the pistol and asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm your new housekeeper," the woman answered moving towards the kitchen. She poked her head in the kitchen and saw that it was clean. Shaking her head, she said, "You can put away the gun now."

Wondering what he was supposed to do with a housekeeper, Mike put the pistol back in the table drawer. He said, "As you can see, I don't need a housekeeper."

"You are a man living alone. That is reason enough for you to have a housekeeper," the woman said. When he was about to argue, she waved a finger at him as she added, "Teva has sent me to be your housekeeper. You have no choice in the matter."

"Why would Teva send you to be my housekeeper?" Mike asked looking at the fiery little woman.

"You saved Sanjay," the woman answered. She went over to one of the bedrooms. Opening the door, she looked inside finding that it was the nursery. Nodding her head, she said, "This will be my room."

"What?" Mike asked.

"My bags are in the car. Please bring them inside," the woman said with the calm assurance that her orders would be obeyed.

Mike stared at the woman wondering where on Earth Teva had found her. Giving up, he asked, "What is your name?"

"I am Kim Sung," she answered giving him a slight bow with her head.
Lazlo Zalezac
Chapter 19