Chapter 64

Knowing that the CIA not only knew about my project, but approved and wanted to share the fruit with us was pleasing enough for me to ask the contractor to increase our financial commitment to hire more ‘specialists.’ Jerome was only too happy to take my money. The kicker was that the quality of the product increased as soon as the money did. We were swimming in raw data and spending a fortune having it all sorted and connected.

When it was apparent that we needed even more help I made a request to see Joshua Obadiah Walsh once more. His assistant seemed pleased to arrange a meeting and shortly before I would have set off for CIA headquarters, I received a call saying that the Director preferred to see me at the mansion.

“Mr. President I have been looking forward to this get together. We have some intel to share and hope that your people might have some for us.”

Boy was he surprised.

“Director Walsh, this twenty terabyte hard drive contains two weeks’ worth of data that we have gathered by electronic, as well as human means.” He got the meaning of my words. The people our contractors captured and tortured gave up all kinds of information in a fruitless attempt to avoid execution. “There is significant information on here about crimes that would interest the Attorney General, as well as your intelligence folks.

“You will also find reams of raw data that might only be useful if run through your special computers. We saved everything, but lack the computing capacity and power to sort it all in under a year. Our people catalogued it into interest files to help you decipher the varied issues raised and explained.”

The Director looked at the case containing the hard drive and sighed. “Mr. President, we are deeply grateful for your investment and unwavering dedication to tracking down this terror cell. It should not surprise you to hear that our newest generation devices will have this data sorted and organized within hours. Our analysts will have a field day once the massaged data is available for their use.

“Thank you, Sir. I am deeply in your debt.”

He would have turned to leave, but I stopped him. “Mr. Director. You said you had some intelligence to share with me, Sir?”

Joshua Walsh took an unbearable amount of time unsealing a report that he drew from his briefcase. The document was bound in leather and looked to be very expensively finished. The Director opened the report, skimmed ahead about a third of the way in, before turning the book around and laying it open across my lap.

What I read in that report caused my blood to boil.

“Is this ... are you really saying ... can any of this be true???”

Sometimes you are faced with a truth that is so unbelievably false that your mind can’t accept the facts in front of you.

This was that day for me.

Charger slinked away to a corner, frightened of the sudden change in room temperature. He knew without knowing that I was far away and in a different frame of mind than he had ever seen. The rage inside of me coalesced into a ball of fire and that fire could only be put out by the spilling of blood...

... lots of blood...

... and I knew exactly where to find the blood that would be spilled.

It took a few weeks to build an airtight case. Those weeks were pure torture because I needed the relief that would come only after I spent a few days with those responsible inside a locked, soundproof room.

The pastor once said, “All things come to him who waits...”

He was oh so right.

It was either very late, or really early. Take your pick.

The room was very dark.

It didn’t matter how much light bathed the lone figure.

Light wouldn’t help him.

He was far beyond help.

That lone occupant was securely handcuffed to the steel chair, which folded upwards into a gurney should the need arise. Blind folded, gagged and deafened inside an expensive, noise canceling headset, carefully placed over his ears. For all intents and purposes he had already ceased to exist.

My partners in this crime had wrung him out for days and days and days.

There was nothing left for him to give ... except an explanation.

We – Michael and me - were coming to that in just a moment. I wasn’t looking forward to what came next. His feelings were of no concern. Someone with such a short time to live wasn’t going to offer much in the way of wisdom and he already gave up the most important things I wanted to know.

By now he knew that he’d purchased a one-way ticket to a place with no exits. “Mikey ... Mikey ... Mikey ... You have been such a bad boy. Such a bad, bad, bad boy. You’ve told my people all those bad, very bad, very, VERY bad things you did and now they’ve told me. It’s funny how that works. First those serious men bypassed your high tech security system. Then they picked you up out of your own bed, in the middle night and brought you here without a single human being noticing that you’re gone...”