Perspectives, An Intriguing Tale of an American Born Terrorist (39 page)

“Yes, Mary what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about ending this shit once and for all. Fly the plane, Jonathan. Who knows if they’re planning to intercept that helicopter or let it fly right into those tanks? Wait and see, monitor it and if nobody tries to stop it, go and stop it yourself! Then we’ll know for sure. We’ll know what kind of people we’re really dealing with. And then, if they have no plan to stop it and you’re sure that they intend to let it crash into those tanks, put an end to it once and for all. They’ll all be in the same fucking place. The ones who sanctioned it, the ones who sanctioned July 15th, the ones that have been doing it for the last 10 years. Who knows? Maybe they’re responsible for 9/11. Do it for me Jonathan, do it for Matthew, do it for Carly!”

Jonathan slammed on the brakes and pulled the Buick to the side of the highway and slid over only a few inches from her face. “Listen to me Mary. You’re losing your mind. What you’re suggesting is insane. No matter what they did to us, I’m not going to become one of them.”

“Is it an act of terror or are you saving more children from being incinerated in buildings or suffocated in debris? Jonathan they’re going to blow up a liquefied natural gas plant in Kentucky.”

“I don’t know if that’s true Mary.”

“But certainly you checked. Is there a large gas plant in Kentucky?”

“The world’s largest is just outside of Lexington. It is close to the University of Kentucky.”

“Jonathan, you have to stop being so naïve. What do you want them to do, send you a post card? A helicopter is heading there on Tuesday. You heard Bob. What we don’t know is if they are going to stop it or let it happen. Stop them Jonathan, and then stop them once and for all. You’re the only one in the world who can do it.”

Jonathan sat quietly.

He followed Mary’s directions and took highway 20 at Hinton Street and drove east to Carlton Avenue and made a left on Chestnut until she pointed out a small single family home. Mary’s cousin was a teaching assistant at UVA and waited at the door for them. She was a very warm, intelligent woman who seemed dedicated to her work. She was interesting, and he sensed that she was very close to Mary. She also adored Carly. The house was tidy and furnished with very plain furniture. She pointed Jonathan to a bedroom that she had already prepared for Carly. He tucked her in for an afternoon nap and gave her a kiss. When he returned to the living room, they were waiting with a tray with hot water, cups, tea bags and cookies. She started the conversation.

“Mary told me some of what has happened to you.”

Jonathan looked over at Mary with disdain as if she had broken some moral code.

“I used the secure phone,” said Mary. “I knew you were upset in the car and I didn’t want to aggravate the situation.”

“Aggravate the situation? What the hell’s going on here?”

“It’s okay,” Islee continued. “I have no reason to tell anyone. Islee continued and told Jonathan about the death of her mother and father by American bombs. “It was the same as what happened to your child,” explained Islee. “Mary was there.”

“It’s true,” said Mary.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” asked Jonathan.

“I couldn’t, I didn’t think you’d understand. I was afraid that you would think that I was a terrorist. Jonathan, we were attacked without provocation and their intent was to kill us all.”

“Mary, I have to ask you something and you have to tell me plain and truthful, either yes or no; okay?”

Mary nodded.

“Did you have anything to do with the July 15th bombing?”

Without hesitation Mary answered, “No, for Christ’s sake Jonathan, my husband and children were in there.”

Jonathan was satisfied.

Islee continued with her history and told of her capture, rape and torture by the American military. Jonathan understood the brutality perfectly.

“They’ve taken everything away from me,” continued Islee. “They took my father and then they stripped my soul of dignity and honor, using me like I was less than an animal!”

“They took our child,” murmured Mary.

Jonathan’s mind scrambled feverishly trying to put everything together.

“Now we can sit back and do nothing or we can do something about it,” said Mary.

Jonathan rebuked her, “There’s nothing we can do. You can’t beat the most powerful nation in the world. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

“No, listen, Bob’s given us the perfect opportunity. The plane, the F-18, it will be armed and cleared to fly over the Capital. You can fly that plane! You can prevent the attack and then you can end it once and for all.”

Jonathan looked at her in disbelief. “Mary please, we talked about this, now let it rest.”

Mary continued, “Jonathan, they’re all going to be in one place on Tuesday. You can make amends for all the wrongs and destroy this whole government with one blow. All the terrorists will be gone, forever. And then, maybe this world can start over.”

Jonathan stood up, “You’re crazy, how can you even think like that?”

“To stop the killing.”

“That wouldn’t stop it, that would perpetuate it.”

“We would force them to stop and think, because it would show that there are consequences for their actions.”

“We, who’s we?”

“Jonathan, there are others I want you to meet.”

Islee opened a door that led to her garage, which had been converted into a den. “You can come in now,” she said. To Jonathan’s amazement about 15 people walked into the house. Some were white, some black and some brown. They were from all forms of American life: scientists, pilots, doctors and other professionals. “Jonathan, I would like you to meet my friends. We are kind of a support group for each other. These people have all lost something, just like you and me. They would like your permission to tell you their stories.”

They scattered around the living room and sat, some in chairs, some on the hearth of the fireplace, some on the floor, and one by one they spoke. Each had a devastating story of loss. Each story was heartrending. Most, like him, had lost children, others siblings; some had lost arms and legs, but it was all a familiar theme; they had gotten in the way of a brute, a government that was flexing its muscle to show ownership of the world. About half way through, Jonathan heard a thump and turned to see Carly sitting on the stairway. He scurried up to get her, but she sat frozen, transfixed, hypnotized by what she had heard.

“Honey you shouldn’t be listening to this. Let’s find a good television show to watch.”

She nodded.

Jonathan scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom and tucked her into bed. “Did you hear much?” he asked trying to understand what might be going on in her head.

She nodded and then a tear came down her cheek.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“I’m just Carly,” she responded.

He tucked her in and gave her a kiss on the forehead and left the door opened a crack. He waited a minute and peeked back into the room to see her sitting up with her big blue eyes wide open staring at the wall.

“What is going on in my little angel’s head?” he thought as he tiptoed down the stairs and re-engaged with his new friends.

They talked until morning, Islee bringing pot after pot of coffee and tea. When they were through, Jonathan understood what was going on in Carly’s head as he stared blankly at the wall.

It was 5 a.m. and Jonathan laid all of the items on the couch in preparation for what would be the most significant day in his life. There were the two handguns, a latex mask he had made from the corpse of Bob Runyan, Burton’s id badge, a forged id, a list of the pilots who would fly in today’s mission, the taser and a pile of documents and money.

Mary and Islee were still fast asleep. He felt the presence of someone behind him and turned to see Carly, hanging onto Bruiser’s only arm with her right hand and the
Velveteen Rabbit
book in her left.

“Come up here,” she said patting the bed.

She curled up on his lap, released the book and immediately stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Daddy, can I tell you a story?”

“Sure sweetie.”

“Once upon a time there was this scruffy rabbit that looked a whole lot like Bruiser, except he was a rabbit and Bruiser is a bear.”

Jonathan knew the story well.

“And all this rabbit wanted was to be real, because he wanted the little boy to love him. He had this friend that was a skin horse and he somehow became real, so the rabbit wanted to know how he did it. You know how he did it?”

Jonathan asked, “How?”

“He was always there for the boy and he didn’t care what the boy did to him as long as the boy loved him. After a long, long time the love of the boy made the Skin Horse real. You know I’ve been thinking, it’s not only toys and animals that can become real.” Carly laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Jonathan asked.

“I have a Skin Horse,” answered Carly.

“I know you do,” said Jonathan reaching over and stroking Bruiser.

“No……..,” laughed Carly even louder. “That’s Bruiser….he’s not real yet, he’s still working on it.”

“Okay then, I’m stumped. Where’s your Skin Horse?”

Carly giggled and then pressed her index finger right into her daddy’s chest. “You are my Skin Horse, Daddy.”

The touch of her little finger felt like a sledge hammer and pushed him back against the couch. He didn’t know how to react and felt his eyes welling with tears.

“No one else?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

“What about mama?”

Carly shook her head no. “Mama’s not real, Daddy, she’ll never be real.”

“Sure she is, sweetie. Your Mama loves you very much.

Carly shrugged her shoulders. “She lies and she kills people. Bruiser says you can never be real if you lie and kill people.”

“How do you know she lies?”

“Bruiser told me that she never tells the truth.”

“Never?”

“Not since Matthew died. Bruiser is going to be real like you someday, Daddy.”

“But look at him, he only has one arm and a half a mouth and his ear is all burned. Certainly that has to make him real.”

“He’s on his way, he’s definitely on his way,” she answered. “It’s not that easy.”

“I guess it isn’t,” said Jonathan.

“Are you going to Washington today?”

“I think so, how did you know about that?”

“Bruiser told me.”

“That’s a pretty smart bear you have.”

“Are you going because of my dream?”

“I’m going for a lot of reasons.”

“Be careful Daddy.”

“I will sweetie.”

She reached her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could and whispered, “Sometimes a person only gets one Skin Horse their whole lifetime and if they lose it they never get it back.”

It was 6 a.m. Tuesday morning and Jonathan had one stop to make before driving to Andrews Air Force Base, a stop that he hadn’t discussed with Mary. He tapped lightly on Director William Reed’s door and the door slid open. The Director was regularly in his office at 5:30 a.m., planning his day and drinking his five cups of coffee before the regular crew arrived. He sat behind his desk, with a three inch pile of documents in front of him. Most of the reports were tucked within bright red folders, labeled “top secret.” His secretary, Janice would arrive promptly at 7 a.m.

The face of a perfectly disguised Alex Moore peeked into his office and stared directly at the Director who was on the cell phone talking with Harry Davidson.

Harry was confirming the finding of the missing Lear jet in the Green hangar in Greeneville, Tennessee. The Director froze when he saw Alex as if he was looking at a ghost. “I’ll call you right back,” he said to Davidson as he flipped the phone shut.

“Can I come in?” asked Jonathan.

The Director nodded and then responded, “What the hell are you doing here? He carefully slid open his top drawer revealing a 45 caliber hand gun.

“Sorry sir, but it’s important.”

The Director looked down at his gold Rolex, stalling for time as he tried to sense the seriousness of the situation and then collected himself. “Jesus Christ, Bob you shouldn’t be here and what the fuck are you doing out of cover!”

“I didn’t think it mattered anymore, the Andersons know I’m alive.”

“They found you?”

“Yes, sir they did.”

“And?”

“They know more than we think….Lexington, the President’s address tonight and they are going to try to intervene.”

“I don’t know how they can.”

“Good, then we can continue as planned.”

“Of course, we’re too fucking pregnant to back out now.”

“What time is the intercept?”

“Intercept?”

Jonathan was at a loss for words, “For the helicopter, sir?”

The Director put on a half smile, “The helicopter will impact at 8:23 p.m.”

“And Mary?”

“An accomplice….we’ll hang her for treason. Now get the fuck out of here and get back under cover before someone sees you.”

“PD get in here!” screamed the Director into the intercom. In a few seconds, PD was in the office. The Director was leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk, a big grin on his face. “We got him.”

“Are you going to let me in on what’s making you so confident?”

“He was just here.”

“Who?”

“Anderson.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”

“PD it couldn’t be more perfect, he’s fallen right into it. Not like we planned, but in the end who in the hell will care.”

“He’s going to fly the plane?”

“He’s on his way to the base as we speak.”

“What about Mary and the kid?”

“Harry will be back from Texas in an hour, and he’ll take care of them.”

“What if Anderson doesn’t do it?”

“Not a chance, he’ll do it. He’s bought the line about the President sponsoring terror, hook, line and sinker. He thinks that the administration is blowing up cities and buildings. He actually believes that he is doing the country a favor,” responded the Director.

“How do you know it was him?”

“Runyan is dead. Mary confirmed it yesterday. And it makes perfect sense for him to come. It was obvious that he was fishing, which let me feed him, just what he needed. I confirmed every one of his fears.”