Perspectives, An Intriguing Tale of an American Born Terrorist (32 page)

“Are you crazy!” yelled Jonathan. “You just killed a senior CIA agent! And you did it in front of the entire world!”

Carly put her hands over her ears and started to scream.

“It’s going to be okay darling,” answered Mary as she stroked Carly’s head.”

“It’s not going to be okay!” yelled Jonathan. “You’ve killed one of William Reed’s right hand men!”

Carly started to bawl, almost as if she was moaning.

Mary snapped right back. “What was I supposed to do? They would have killed you, if I hadn’t stopped him. Where would we go, what would we do without you?”

“Holy Christ, now we’ve killed a CIA agent! You have no idea what you’ve done! Burton’s not only an agent, but he’s a staff guy who reports right to the Director. He was once part of the President’s secret service, a national hero. If you thought they were after us before, you just wait and see what’s coming now. They’ll have the whole world looking for us. You didn’t have to kill him.”

“Jonathan, at this point it’s kill or be killed.”

“There’s no justification for that, none! They’ll have every law enforcement official in the country looking for us now and we can never go back. There goes our one slim possibility of ever being pardoned. They’ll hang us for treason! Holy shit! Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

“Jonathan, you need to calm down, you’re repeating yourself.”

Jonathan kept slapping his forehead with his open palm. “They’re going to set up road blocks and they’ll be looking for a young couple with a little girl. We need to change our looks and make the little girl disappear. Quick, reach into my duffel bag and pull out that brunette wig. Put it on.” Mary complied. He peeled the wig off his head. “Now take out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls and rub it hard on my face until the pocks come off.” When she was done, he told her to grab the razor and shaving cream. She lathered up his face and started shaving. “Ouch, Mary you have to take it easy.” A drop of blood appeared on his cheek. “Sorry,” she answered. “These roads are a little rough.” In a few minutes the goatee was gone and the pocks were wiped away. He had her reach back into the bag to find eyebrows, a moustache and wig and she hastily glued them on. He looked into the vanity mirror; “Pretty crude, but this will do for now.”

Carly had settled down and looked at the dashboard with a dull stare.

Jonathan reached around Mary and put his hand on her shoulder. “Now Carly, remember how we were practicing rolling up in a ball.”

Carly grabbed her knees.

“Now we’re going to play a new game and mama’s going to carry you for a little while. Can you try your best not to move?”

Carly nodded.

Jonathan pulled into a McDonalds.

“Wait outside the men’s room and I’ll be right back.”

When he saw that it was empty, he motioned the two girls to come in and then locked the door. Carly perked up when she saw the urinal.

“What’s that,” she giggled.

“It’s where men go pee pee,” explained her mother.

“Can I try it?”

“It doesn’t work for girls.”

She scratched her chin as she thought a moment and then her father interrupted.

“Mary put this harness on, it’s a little rough but it should work for the time being. Are you sure that you can carry her?”

“I’ve carried 60 pound packs up mountains and she only weighs about 50 pounds.”

The harness had two padded shoulder straps and two supports, one for the upper and one for the lower back. It had a large sack that hung around Mary’s middle that looked like a kangaroo pouch and had a string that would allow it to close.

“Okay Carly roll up like I showed you.”

Jonathan picked her up and put her into the pouch and then pulled the draw string closed.

“Can she breathe in there?” asked Mary.

“Carly, can you breathe?”

“I can breathe. It’s nice and warm and I can hear mommy’s heart beating.”

“Now just pretend like you’re a baby in your mama’s belly and try to go to sleep.”

Jonathan pulled out a maternity top and helped Mary slip it over the harness. “There you are Mrs. Anderson, you’re about 10 ½ months pregnant.”

“I never had a baby that wiggled as much as this one.”

Jonathan stared into the mirror and adjusted his moustache and eyebrows.

After they climbed back into the car, Mary asked. “Where are we going to go?”

“We’re going to Langley.”

“How are we going to get there?”

“Hang on.”

“Sir, I don’t know how to say this,” said Harry Davidson to William Reed in a broken, nervous voice. He was calling on a special direct line set up for the operation. “But he killed Burton and then they got away.”

There was a long stunned silence. Finally the Director spoke, obviously shaken. “Jesus Christ! You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No sir, they shot Jim right between the eyes.”

There was another long silence and the Director returned in a soft, shaky voice.

“Have you called Jim’s wife?”

“Yes sir, she took it pretty hard.”

“He’s got three kids.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was silence while the Director collected himself and then he exploded. “Harry we’ve got to get this guy. He’s making us look like a bunch of fucking idiots. This will be all over the news networks, everybody’s there. This is like my worst fucking nightmare! I’m going to have to brief the President and explain this whole mess, so maybe you can help me with some words. Tell me how in the world can one man with a wife and a seven year old kid outsmart 45 FBI agents and 30 CIA agents? And then escape after killing one of the top agents in the world.”

“He used the hologram program.”

“The training program? So you’re telling me that he’s taken another top secret program from the agency? How am I going to explain that to the President? Fuck! The press is going to have a heyday with this!”

“Sir, we’ve already established that someone’s helping him. That same person must have given him the program.”

“But we don’t know who.”

“Maybe the help is coming from another agency.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the Director.

“NSA also uses the QX-4.”

“But that would mean that there’s a connection.”

“Sir we may have found the connection. It could have come from his wife.”

“His wife?”

“Yes, we haven’t confirmed anything and the NSA at first was in denial, but Anderson’s wife worked exclusively on “black” NSA projects at George Mason. She may even be an agent.”

“This has got to be some kind of fucking joke! How can this all happen without us knowing?”

“The NSA is pretty tight lipped with their business.”

“Well you’d think they’d come clean. They know her husband was CIA.”

“They act dumb, sir, and aren’t volunteering anything without us asking.”

“I hope that we have now asked!”

“Yes sir and they said that they would cooperate.”

The Director leaned back in his chair and reflected, “So Anderson and his wife are in on this together.”

“Not confirmed, but there’s a strong possibility, sir.”

“And the bombing?”

“Sir, they’re now our number one suspects. The NSA has agreed to give us full access to their resources, including all of her background and projects.”

“So, let me get this straight. The CIA has,

together with our military counterparts the NSA, trained two terrorists who are out there blowing up buildings and killing our agents.”

“It would appear so, sir. I know right now it doesn’t make any sense sir. But at least we have reason to take them down, without any questions being asked. We have an APB out on both of them and they’re now the #1 most sought after criminals in the world.”

The Director answered, “That puts him right smack fucking dab where I don’t want to be, in the fucking spotlight. So let’s see, we now have him for murder, espionage, wire fraud and evading arrest. Have I missed any?”

“Yeah, the Justice department will probably come up with a few dozen more.”

“Davidson, please tell me that someone got a look at him.”

“Yes, but it’s all pretty sketchy sir. We’ve got a few different descriptions, but the best one came from an agent standing about 15 feet away, and there were a lot of people around, so they may have been mistaken. Apparently Burton grabbed Anderson and identified him and then someone else, probably Mary, shot him. The shot came from a distance away. The agent said the best that he could tell Anderson looked like a biker, with a goatee, long dark hair pulled back in a pony tail and a pretty gnarly face.”

“Did you get him to the artist for a drawing?”

“Yes sir, we’re PDF’ing it to you now.”

The Director opened the picture on his computer. “Damn it, this doesn’t look anything like him.”

“That’s his plan.”

“What about the wife and kid?”

“No one remembered seeing them.”

There was another long period of silence before the Director continued, “Okay, I want all the hotels and motels and inns and Bed and Breakfasts in the Dallas/Ft.Worth area contacted and they are to notify us on every couple that checks in with a child. Got it?”

“Yes sir, what if they drive outside the area?”

“Road blocks, I want road blocks set up in a 75 mile perimeter.”

“Yes sir.”

“And call TSA at DFW and Love Field. Profile every young couple with a child. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Fuck, I have to go. The President’s calling. Hopefully you’ll still have the same boss tomorrow.”

“Janice, can you get PD in here?”

PD walked into his office.

“Close the door.” The Director let out a heavy sigh. She killed Burton, she fucking shot him right between the eyes.”

“Jesus Christ!” answered PD.

“She’s coming apart, and there’s no telling what she’s going to do next. She now seems to have shifted her purpose from the mission at hand to getting even with us.”

“Shit, we’d better keep her away from Bob. Should we warn him?”

“No, not a word to anyone! She lost her son. It wasn’t meant to happen. It was an accident, a fucking accident. Let her have Runyan. Maybe it will bring her around.

“Carly stop twitching,” said Mary as she rubbed her belly. “Jonathan, where are we going?”

“Back to Virginia,” he said. He pulled out Burton’s phone and scanned Burton’s contact list for names that he recognized. He then looked at the most recent calls and matched a number with John Jenkins, the chief pilot for their Lear fleet, whom he had known for nearly 10 years.

“Yes, Mr. Burton,” said John Jenkins answering his cell phone and recognizing Burton’s number.

“Jenkins, this is Burton,” said Jonathan in a deeper, terser voice.

“Yes sir, I was just watching on television everything that’s happening at the Worthington. They said an agent had been shot and killed but didn’t say who.”

“Yes, a terrible tragedy. I can’t tell you any more until we notify family,” answered Jonathan.

“Do I know him?” asked Jenkins curiously.

“No, I don’t think so….Fort Worth division!”

Jenkins breathed a small breath of relief.

Jonathan continued, “I need you to file a flight plan back to Langley and have the plane fueled and ready to leave at 0930. We have an emergency situation. The agent’s widow is pregnant and her family’s in Virginia. We need to get her back to the University of Virginia’s hospital ASAP. A helicopter will be waiting for you when you land. They are going to induce labor because our medical team feels that the stress of the whole situation may be too much for her and she may become disoriented and fall, so her doctors want to take the baby early.”

“Roger, sir. How many on board?”

“Two, just her and her brother, he’s her GYN/OB. Harry and I will be staying here to help sort things out. Then once you make the drop, turn around and come back for Harry and me. Call me when you’re 30 minutes out of Meacham and I’ll give you further instructions. How long before you’re ready to leave?”

“The plane’s fueled, and with our governmental clearances we can be out of here in 15 minutes.”

“Well they’re about that long out. Have one engine running and be ready to go. Just light luggage, and he’s a pilot so he’ll close the main door.”

“Yes sir.”

Jonathan escorted Mary straight through the FBO Executive Jet Service and directly into the waiting plane. He slammed closed the passenger door, turned the large handle that sealed the door in place and gave a thumbs up to the curious pilots who were peeking out from behind the cockpit curtain.”

“Everything secure?” yelled Jenkins.

“Ready to roll,” returned Jonathan.

The Lear 45 took off and headed northeast to Langley. Ten minutes into the flight, as they climbed through 10,000 feet and cleared DFW airspace, Jenkins turned to his copilot and said, “Isn’t she awful late in her pregnancy to be flying?”

Before he could answer, the co-pilot turned and felt a light rap on the side of his head. Jonathan was holding a gun.

“Set the flight director to a heading of 120 and a climb of 1500 feet per minute and get out of the cockpit, both of you,” he yelled.

The pilots sat frozen.

With one quick motion Jonathan hit the co-pilot with the butt of the gun and he slumped lifelessly over the instrument panel.

“I said set the flight director to 120!”

Reluctantly Jenkins pressed in the coordinates.

“Out of the cockpit,” yelled Jonathan.

The pilot hesitated, thinking of options.

“I said out of the cockpit, now!” screamed Jonathan.

The pilot wiggled his way out of the cockpit and Mary waited for him at the back of the plane also with a gun. Jonathan dragged the co-pilot from his seat and placed him in one of the front cabin seats.

“On the floor, face down!” screamed Jonathan to Jenkins.

“Mary, in the bag there’s duct tape and nylon cuffs.”

Carly watched everything with a sense of wonder. She had Bruiser on her lap telling him that everything was going to be alright.

Jonathan cuffed both of their hands and feet and buckled them into the seats. He then took a roll of duct tape and wrapped it completely around their bodies and around the back of the seat. He did this over and over until there was no possibility of escape.