Infringement (25 page)

“I know, sir.”

“How do you think he obtained them?”

“My primary guess would be Megan Neary. She checked into Homeland HQ the night she and Declan Parker absconded.”

“What are your thoughts on how to deal with it? Anything relating to the Stanton affair is your ballpark.”

“I’m already on top of it. Louis Martino is presently in Israel. We’re now monitoring his email and all traffic on The Free Voice website. He’ll be picked up at the airport when he returns to the States.”

The pungency of stale body odor was the first thing to strike Evan about his new surroundings. Whereas his previous holding cell had been completely isolated, his new “home”, a rough taupe cot, sat in the midst of hundreds of others in a general population mass-detention facility. The facility itself appeared to Evan to have either once been a manufacturing warehouse of some type, or was designed in a warehouse vein. Either way, the area was large, open, and relatively warm compared to where he’d been previously. It was also packed to the gills with inhabitants, male and female, of seemingly all ages and backgrounds.

No one had told Evan where he was being transferred. He had flown on some sort of government transport plane for approximately two hours, then been transferred to a windowless van for the ride to the detention center. Based on the slightly warmer temperature, Evan guessed he had been taken south.

After processing, two guards had escorted him, as he was barely able to limp along, to Cot No. G87 and left him there. Evan wasn’t sure if it was due to his still bruised and sickly appearance, but with the exception of a couple nods in his direction, the bulk of the other detainees had stayed clear of him. As Evan was completely exhausted and still running a low fever, being left alone didn’t bother him in the least. He laid down on Cot G87, pulled the rough army-green blanket over himself and fell asleep, thinking that either the Lord would protect him or he’d never wake up again. Either way, as he was unable to keep his eyes open, the situation seemed out of his control.

_______________________

“Stay down, Mr. Martino,” Sgt. Ya’alon advised.

Rapid gunfire raced above Louis and the IDF troops in the unit, as they hunkered low behind their vehicles. Even without Sgt. Ya’alon’s advice, Louis had no intention of raising any part of his body, which was pressed against the side of an armored transport. He heard the thud and clank of bullets against the metal armor on the other side.

“They’re really shooting at us,” he yelled out.

“Yes, they are,” Sgt. Ya’alon responded calmly. “Just keep your head down and stay right next to me. Air support should be arriving any moment now.”

“Not a problem.”

The unit continued to exchange fire with the group on the other side of the Israeli/Syrian border for about ninety seconds more, then the deafening whoosh of two Israeli Air Force F-15 Eagles shot overhead and Louis heard the heavy gunfire and two large explosions. The gunfire quickly died down and, within another minute, all was quiet except for Sgt. Ya’alon on his radio, “Yes, sir, we’ll move forward immediately and secure the area. Understood, sir.”

Louis asked, “What’s going on?”

“We’re taking up a position across the border. We’re under attack on various fronts, here along the Golan, as well as Gaza, Lebanon, the West Bank, and the Sinai.”

“Sounds like it’s coming from all sides.”

“It is. We have new reports of skirmishes with ISIS units along the southern-Syrian and Jordanian borders. Also, Hamas fighters crossing over from Gaza and Hezbollah engaging our troops just over the Lebanese border. Lots of heavy rocket fire, with casualties. It’s begun.”

Adrenaline was still pulsing through Louis as he tried to quickly scribble down Sgt. Ya’alon’s report.

Sgt. Ya’alon called out, “Alright, let’s load up. We’re moving to take up positions across the border! Let’s go!”

_______________________

“I checked our personal emails with the scrambler activated and there’s nothing,” Megan told Declan. “I’m sure both accounts are being constantly monitored, so it’s probably a good thing nobody’s sent anything to them.”

“What about The Free Voice? Does Louis have an article up yet?”

“He sure does and, not surprisingly, it’s outstanding. I printed it for you,” she said, handing it to him. “He uses the information we gave him to poke holes in every charge being leveled against you. He even published the classified documents and medical records I gave him. We’ll see if it helps at all.”

“I’m beginning to get worried about my mom and the family. Evan would have told them everything a long time ago. It just seems like if everything was okay, they’d have at least emailed a short note or something.”

“Maybe they’re afraid to email, thinking it could be tracked to you.”

“Maybe, but it just seems strange. With everything going on up there, my mom would at least want to get me a note saying she’s okay.”

“Read Louis’ article. I’m going up to Uncle Ignacio’s house to see if he’s spoken with my mom recently and see if he has any news.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be back. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Evan woke up to the surprisingly refreshing feeling of a cold cloth on his forehead. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the strikingly angelic face of a young woman sitting next to him on the floor came into focus.

“You’re awake,” she said to him.

“I think so.”

“You were running a fever, but I think it finally broke an hour or so ago.”

“How long was I out?”

“Over twenty-four hours that I know of. One of your cot neighbors, Mr. Sippel, asked me to take a look at you and see what I could do. I’m Jessica Ehlers.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Ehlers, and, thank you.”

“Jessica is fine. You’re welcome, mister?”

“Parker, Evan Parker.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“You’re pretty good at this.”

“I hope so. I’m in my last year of nursing school, at least I was.”

“So, what is this place?” Evan asked as he slowly sat up in his cot.

“It’s the federal detention center in Fort Worth.”

“Texas?”

“Yes. You didn’t know where you were?”

“No, I was transferred down here blindly.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, to my knowledge I’ve never been charged with anything, so that’s kind of unclear at this point. I helped my younger brother get out of the hospital and may have hurt a nurse in the process, but they’ve only told me I’m being held as a suspected domestic terrorist under the NDAA. What about you?”

“I was in the protests in downtown Dallas. Most here were, although more and more are coming in who were brought in for refusing to comply with the gun confiscation or breaking martial law somehow.”

“Have you been charged yet?”

“Not that I know of. It’s the same deal as you, held under the NDAA or whatever.”

“Well, as much as I hate to say it, this place actually seems like an improvement over where I was. You’re the first non-police type person I’ve talked to in a week or more.”

“It’s not horrible, but it’s hardly ideal considering none of us actually did anything but exercise our rights.”

“It seems kind of calm, relatively speaking.”

“A good case of looks being deceiving. Things are intentionally being kept in check at the moment, but there’s a definite undercurrent among most of the people here.”

“What kind of undercurrent?”

“Let’s just say, for many, the fight’s not over with quite yet.”

“Got it. Anything I need to know?”

“Not yet. I’d just lay low and try to fit in. I’ll keep an eye out for you and give you a heads up when you need one. You seem nice enough.”

“Another case of looks being deceiving I’m afraid.”

Jessica laughed a bit. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I didn’t even believe it when I said it,” Evan answered. “So, do you get any news in here?”

“The guards don’t really interact with us, but we get some, mostly from the new arrivals. That is the new arrivals other than you,” Jessica answered with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m afraid I’m not much help in that department. What have you heard though? How are things out there?”

“It seems like the protests in the urban areas have all essentially been put down or are being put down. There’s a heavy military presence in most of the larger cities. The fight now seems to be moving out into the country and rural areas. That’s where the hardcore holdouts have made their stands.”

“That makes sense.”

“The feds have declared martial law and put a sunset to sunrise curfew in place across the country. A woman I talked to yesterday was put in here on a curfew violation. A few days ago I heard that the feds have started door to door confiscations of all guns and ammo. They seem to be starting with all the registered owners. We’ve started seeing some of those who refused to cooperate, and weren’t killed, flowing in here. A lot of them are in pretty bad shape. One of the new guys said the prices of everything have shot through the roof and they’ve implemented withdrawal limits to avoid bank runs.”

“It sounds like a mess.”

“Yeah, and I think it’s going to be for a long time to come. They may be putting down the protests in the cities, but at least from what I see in here, that hasn’t done anything to calm down the protesters. I think it’s only upset them more. It sounds like a lot of people outside are mainly going into survival mode in the short term, hoping to ride out the worst of it. I guess the people who don’t care, or who support the government, are just hoping things get under control and back to normal.”

“I’m sure the feds will get everything back under control, regardless of what it takes. That’s been the agenda all along. As for back to normal, I wouldn’t hold my breath. I think
normal
is out the window.”

“You’re probably right. I just want to get out of here and get home.”

“Do you have family?”

“My parents are in Denton, just north of Dallas. I haven’t seen or talked to them in ten days. My brother was with me in the protests, but I have no idea what happened to him. I’ve looked all over for him since I got here, but he’s not here. I just hope he’s home and safe,” Jessica said and began crying.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably with your parents and I’m sure they are all worried sick about you. Nobody here has let you call home?”

“No, nothing. No communication outside at all.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What about you? Do you have family?”

“A wife and two babies, a boy who’s 6 and girl who’s 3. I just pray that I’ll see them again. I pray for that every single day.”

“You will.”

Evan looked up at Jessica. Tears were in both their eyes. He smiled at her and she gave him a little smile back. “No,” he said. “We will. We’ll both see our families again.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Evan made the sign of the cross and kissed the bend in his curled right index finger three times. “I know I am. I trust God alone, and He hasn’t ever let me down.”

While reading Louis Martino’s article on The Free Voice, something clicked in Kevin’s mind. He quickly scrolled to the bottom of the article and clicked on the hyperlink for Louis’ name, which took him to Louis’ bio and email address at The Free Voice. Kevin clicked on the email address and, from his personal Hushmail account, typed: “Louis Martino, I need to get a message to Declan about his family. Please reply. S.A. Cameron.”

_______________________

After engaging in numerous fire fights throughout the day, Louis moved with the Palchod Company, the unit of the 932nd Granite Battalion he had been imbedded with, back across the Israeli border to an IDF post in Mount Bental, near the town of Kibbutz Merom Golan, roughly forty miles from Damascus. The company had bedded down to try and get a few hours sleep. Unable to sleep, Louis decided to take advantage of being somewhere with WiFi, and logged onto the The Free Voice website to upload his relatively short update on the day’s events.

Israel was increasingly under fire from all fronts and from just about every bordering enemy. Rockets and missiles were being launched from Gaza, Lebanon, the West Bank, and from ISIS fighters operating in Jordan and Syria and renegade Muslim Brotherhood groups in the Sinai Peninsula. Tensions and fears were mounting among the IDF soldiers, and Israeli civilians Louis had encountered, that Israel could be overrun, as many parts of Syria, Jordan and northern Iraq had been. Stories of the atrocities committed in ISIS captured and held areas ran rampant and rumors were circulating among the population that Israel’s last-ditch defense, the “Samson Option”, which to that point had mainly served as a strong deterrent, could finally be in play.

Periodic explosions rocked in the distance as Louis typed furiously, his fingers rhythmically tapping key after key, updating and putting the finishing touches on his piece. Not knowing when he’d next have WiFi access, and a relatively peaceful time to work, he quickly uploaded the article and checked the site for news about what had been happening back in the States. Finally, Louis went through his emails, and found Kevin’s message.

He paused for a few minutes trying to figure out who S.A. Cameron could be. The name sounded so familiar. After a few minutes, he finally recalled Megan telling him that Declan’s friend at the Bureau, Kevin Cameron, had given her the warning about getting him out of the hospital. Special Agent Kevin Cameron, S.A. Cameron. Louis quickly typed back, “I have an email address I can try. What’s the message?”

Within five minutes, Louis received a new email alert. The email was from Kevin, “Dr. Evan was picked. All others are near, hid. All okay. I’m keeping eyes on children, mom. Will use secure mail. Lines knocked out and maybe off electric turns. Back on next week.”

Louis replied, “Don’t entirely understand, but will pass along. Could be a few days before I respond, but I will.” Louis then forwarded the email chain with Kevin to the Hushmail account Megan had given him in case he needed to reach them, turned off his laptop, and closed his eyes, the rhythmic sound of rockets and gunfire serving as an ironic lullaby of sorts.