Last War (38 page)

    
“Czyra, to be honest, though, we don’t even know that he’s really gone.”

     “
We’ve got a task at hand, either way. The show must go on. I should have known this wasn’t going to happen the way we thought. There’s no way they were going to let him just come back when he had wreaked as much havoc as he had.”

     “Look, Czy, let’s worry about that later. We’ve got people outside
who need instruction.”

     “You’re right.
Let’s get to it.”

     Czyra collected  himself and made his way out to the auditorium stage. The entire auditorium was much more full than it typically would be. Somehow, with all the trouble Czyra had gotten himself into the past few weeks, people suddenly began to take him more seriously.
He scanned his wrist with the memory card.

     “It’s a full house, folks, and I’m glad to see that.” He said standing in front of possibly over 2000. “The last few weeks have been interesting, but I can’t tell you completely why. I’ve been chipped, caught inside a Brendenhall meeting and brainwashed, to a certain extent. I’ve been through a lot. But, I’ve come away with this.”

     Czyra held up the package. “It’s Operation F.A.I.T.H. And what OpF.A.I.T.H. is, officially, is part two of an overall false flag operation. How many parts are there? I don’t know. I know there’s a third. I was hoping to get all of that figured out soon. That’s still pending. These series of operations, however, are designed to manipulate us so that we’ll buy into whatever changes the U.S. government are bound to make. But, all of us here, we’re not going to let that happen, are we? We have too much info. We will battle back.” Czyra took a minute to reflect on what was best to say. Show confidence? Or admit a bit of a set back? “Best part? We’ve got a guy on the inside ‘helping’ to work on the plan.  They think he’s heading their operation, when really, he’s with us. Also, we’ve got the millions of hacktivists on our team, too. We are an army, ya hear? And this is war. They will not change our lives unless they go through us.”

    
The men cheered loudly thrusting their guns towards the ceiling.

     “Let’
s go take our last action.”



4439 Chase Ct. Annandale, Virginia, Fairfax County 2:15p.m
.
        

   
 
Clareese rang the doorbell with Christine by her side. “Don’t you worry, Chrissy, we’re going to get to the bottom of this sooner or later.”

    
The old lady opened the door. “Christine?”

     “That’s her.” Clareese said. “I’m her friend, Clareese.”

     “I’m Betsy, Tameka’s mom. Come on in.”

    
The living room was set up with teacups on the table and place mats. The smell of dinner permeated the house.

     “I’ve been expecting you, and I made dinner. Is that OK?”

     “Sure. Thank you, it smells delicious.”

     “I made Salm
on. It was Tameka’s favorite.” Betsy said while walking to her tucked away kitchen.  “So, I understand I received a visit from your husband a few years back?”

     “Yeah. According to Tameka’s cousin.”

     “Ah. Cinda. What else did Tameka’s cousin say?”

     “She said that they were working on a bunch of projects privately.
Something that has to do with some big government covert operation.” 

     “She was always so secretive. Only time she ever really started chirping about stuff was right before she died; some stuff about those two men following her. She seemed very afraid for her life.” Betsy shook her head. “I wish there were something I could do.”

     “Did she ever mention anything about my husband?” Christine asked.

     “I mean, very vaguely. When he was here I got the impression that he didn’t even know she existed.

     Betsy came out of the kitchen with two plates. She sat them in front of Clareese and Christine.

     “Wow. This looks great. What did you do with this?” Clareese asked.

     “I seasoned the salmon with black pepper, paprika, celery salt, basil, and ginger. No oils, and no butter. I grilled it.”

     “It’s great.”

     “Tameka always had a taste for the healthy. Never unhealthy. She wanted white rice, and only steamed veggies. Hence the meal.”

     “
It’s interesting that he acted like he never knew her if they partnered on some covert operation.” Christine said before shoving her mouth with her first bit of salmon.

    “I know. Something’s not adding up.”

     “And it seems like you guys were really close – you and Tameka, that is.”

     “Yeah. I still had her bedroom the same up until two years ago. It was time for change.”

     “You still have her things? Yeah. Nothing of real importance. I think I gave the last important thing to your husband. A box from the lab that had random things in there.”

     “When’s the last time you saw her before she died?”

     Betsy choked up. “She stayed here a few times before just returning home. I never saw her body again.”

     “No
t even for a viewing, or to identify?”

     “I didn’t want to identify the body. The authorities told me that her
whole body had been riddled with bullets and especially was true of her face. They gave us the option, but told us it was really bad. Of course I’m going to elect to not see that. How could I handle it?”

     “Did anyone?”

     “No. Not in this family.”

    
The tapping of forks on the plates filled a brief silent gap.

     “What about my husband, Jason? Did he say what he was doing with what you gave him?”

     “No. But, you know what, he did give me a way to contact him.” Betsy shuffled through a box she had on the ledge of her fireplace. “I can call him if you’d like. I can’t believe I forgot about this.”

     “Really?” Christine shrieked. Her phone rang before she could get the answer, though. It was Michael. She answered.

     “Hello, Mike! I think I may have found him.”

     “That’s what I was calling about
, as well. We have too. He’s on his way here from New York City. It was what I thought all along. He was handling undercover business.”

     “Can you get me his number?”

     “It’s not as  simple as that. Where are you?”

     “I’m at a friend’s. Can I meet you?”

     “No. I need you to go somewhere safe. I promise you you won’t want to be roaming while the next set of events unfold. We’ve tracked your husband. That’s all I can tell you. He’s doing his awesome job, as usual. But, things could get messy, and you need to find somewhere safe. It’s over. No more searching.”

     “OK. Mike. Thank you.”

     She hung up. “Betsy, can you get me in touch with Jason?”

     “Sure thing, baby. He just asked me to dial anyone’s number in the phonebook… and voila!”

     Betsy’s call didn’t go through to Jason’s phone. “That’s funny. I thought he said if I call, it’d go through.”

     “I think they took his phone and technology from him, Betsy. Thanks, anyway.” The women kept eating. “We’re going to have to be headed out, soon, Betsy. That was an agent calling to tell me to get somewhere safe. Apparently
it’s going to be dangerous in the district area, pretty soon. And we have somewhat of a hike back to Bowie.”

     “OK, baby. You’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. I’m an old lady all alone.”
It couldn’t hurt, anything. It was either going to be the two of them, or the three. And Betsy’s home felt safer than her alternatives. She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess that’s a deal. Hopefully the bad doesn’t last too entirely long.”

     “Well, let’s turn on the news and see what’s going on.”

     As soon as Betsy turned on the TV, the caption displayed Christine’s worst fear: Her husband’s name next to the word, “dead”.

     “Why didn’t Mike tell me, just now?” Christine screamed.  
“I don’t believe he’s gone, turn the TV off.”

Christine said.
“He’s not dead. And when everything calms down, I will continue to look. This is what they do. Betsy, both you and Cinda said that you never saw the body? Well, I want to see the body.

Even if it’s charred, chopped, twisted, or riddled with holes. Show me a body.”

     “So now what?” Clareese asked.

     “I don’t know, I’ll probably call Michael. In the meantime, I thought I asked you to turn off the TV. I’d appreciate it.”

     “I want to see what the president has to say.”



12:03p.m.

      “Jason’s train approached 30
th
Street Station in Philadelphia. His device alerted him to a Betsy call trying to get a hold of him. He ignored it.

     Betsy left a message. “Hi, Jason. It’s Betsah. I
’ve gotcha wife here, and she’s been lookin for ya for three years. If ya can give me a call back, that’d be great…”

    
As the Philadelphia riders loaded onto the train, a dark-hair wigged woman sat next to Jason and placed a piece of paper on his lap that said “HANG UP!”

    
He attempted to listen to the rest of the voicemail, but honestly, he couldn’t concentrate. He hung up the phone.

     The woman, without looking at him said, “Sir, this is your stop. You have to get off.”

     “What?”

     “This is your stop. Get off the train
, now.”

     “Are you serious?”

     The woman got up and walked towards the exit.

     “Hey!” Jason shouted. “Come here. Where are you going?” He stood up and grabbed his bags on the sh
elf above his head. “Hey, come here. Federal agent here. Freeze.”

     The
woman stepped off the train. With the last of the people packed onto the train, Jason jumped off. But, it was like the woman disappeared. He couldn’t find her anywhere. There were too many people heading in too many directions. He turned to hop back onto the train, but the doors had already clamped shut. With Jason banging on the window, there was nothing he could do. He was in stuck in Philly, now.

     The train began to move. He stared through the windows into the train. As it moved faster, he caught a glimpse of the seat he was sitting in. A man wearing the same exact clothing as him, with the same bag
s was now in his seat.

     Jason began another round of yelling trying to gain the man’s attention while
running along side the train which eventually heightened to speeds he couldn’t keep up with before he reached the end of the platform.

     He was back in the
agency’s sights. He had to play smart again.

     A woman put her hand on his shoulder. “Michael sent me.” She said. “Come.” She began to walk
briskly towards the escalator.

     “Who was that
on the train? Who are you? Where are we going?”



     The room was pitch-black. Mr. Brendenhall spoke into a microphone attached to an earpiece. He always had the most stressful or important phone calls in a particular chair. It was leather. It sat erect enough to keep him alert but was cushioned enough to keep him comforted.

     His full concentration was on
the voice of a man on the other end of the phone. Brendenhall was being updating the progress of the operations. This was the first time he had heard back on the status of Jason.

     “So, Jason has finally returned? I
never doubted that he’d be back. He’s too smart to have thought anything other than what we all have already discussed. What was he doing?”

     The man on the other side of the line responded, “What he does best, gathering Intel.  Apparently he has a few of those hacktivist groups on his side now, and if we play our cards right, we can use it to our advantage.”

    “I see. Where’s he at now?”

     “We have him with us, we picked him up at 30
th
and Market in Philadelphia.”

     “Do you have the cover stories ready?”

     “Yes. We have a death, a plot, a scandal and blackmail all set up ready to execute depending on what he does from here. We’re prepared.”

     “Where are you at now?”

     “We just left Delaware. We’re in Maryland.”

     “Keep me updated.
Make sure you keep an eye on him.”



Maryland

12:52p.m.

   Jason sat in the back of a black car. A Secret Service agent drove the vehicle.

     “Secret Service?” Jason asked the lady. “What? I get POTUS treatment now?”