Olympus Device 1: The Olympus Device (18 page)

Mitch was so lost in thought, the ring of his cell caused him to flinch. A
n unknown caller ID flashed on the screen.

“Mitch,
it’s Henry Witherspoon. I received your message. What the hell is going on down at A&M?”

“Dr. Wi
therspoon, thank you so much for calling, sir. I was beginning to think I was poison.”

“That’s ridiculous, Mitch. You know I have the highest regard for you and your team.”

The Secretary of Energy remained silent while Mitch explained the situation. During the conversation, he emailed some of the video proof of his claims to a private account of his former professor.

“In summary, sir, you can understand the reason why I’ve pulled you into this conundrum.”

Witherspoon was quiet for a moment, obviously digesting Mitch’s core dump. “This is extraordinary – almost unbelievable. If this information was coming from anyone but you and Floss, I’d never believe it.”

“I was there, sir, and I still find myself questioning a million things about the entire
episode.”

“If this
data is accurate, we have the opportunity to channel infinite energy. It’s a fork in the road. We can go the right direction and utilize this for the benefit of humankind – or the wrong path that results in ultimate destruction. I get it. You were wise to try and keep this under wraps, Mitch. The whole thing reminds me of Einstein’s quote about the atom.”

Mitch chuckled at the analogy. W
ell acquainted with the agony of his hero, the professor’s mind extracted the famous quote from its archived recesses.
‘The release of atom power has changed everything except our way of thinking...the solution to this problem lies in the heart of mankind. If only I had known, I should have become a watchmaker,’
Einstein had ruminated.
The agony suffered by the genius over his theories leading to the development of the atom bomb was well documented in the scientific community. “I think my brother would say being a gunsmith is just as noble as a watchmaker, sir.”

“I think I would like your brother. Let’s hope I get to meet him one day soon.
In the meantime, I’ll get a meeting scheduled with the president to discuss this discovery. My office doesn’t carry a lot of political weight in Washington, so it might be a bit before I can gain access to the castle, but I promise you I will. The Commander in Chief has a lot on his plate at the moment. I’ll do my best.”

The folded copy of
the
Post
hit the table with about as much force as a newspaper could. More noise than kinetic energy, only two of the FBI personnel seated around the conference table flinched. The paper scooted across the table, the bold headline reading, “God’s Gun Loose in Houston,” clearly visible.

“God’s gun,” hissed Monroe. “How do they dream this stuff up?”

No one answered, a signal for the lead agent to continue his rant. “If I find out who the leak is, he or she will be spending quality time with many of the criminals we’ve put behind bars. I hope he gets a cellmate named Bubba, and I hope the resident jailbird finds our snitch attractive.”

The crude threat hung in the air for a moment, Monroe venting frustration that went beyond the article. He continued, “Our fugitive has
gone down a rabbit hole. We’ve not had any contact since the police witnessed him knock down the towers. He’s obviously getting help from someone in this town.”

“It’s not his ex-wife,” offered a younger agent at the end of the table. “She’s a difficult surveillance, for sure, but I’m convinced there’s been no contact. We’ve got her office, home
, and car covered. Her cell, office, and home phones are all wired. She moves around a lot, showing houses and meeting clients, but we’ve seen zero evidence of Mr. Weathers.”

Monroe processed the report, finally offering, “What about turning on the microphone on her smart phone?”

The man in charge of Maria’s detail looked down. “DOJ messed up on the warrant. They didn’t get that included in the paperwork.”

“Well do it anyway!” shouted Monroe. “If a case is eventually brought against e
ither of them, we can always implement parallel construction afterwards.”

Broaching the subject of parallel construction added a layer of stress to the members of Monroe’s team. While commonly used against drug dealers, international syndicates, and organized crime, the order to use the questionable method against a U
nited States citizen wasn’t very common. While the concept was simple, the ramifications were not. If evidence was gathered via an illegal act, it wasn’t admissible in a court of law. What Monroe was suggesting involved creating a false, but seemingly legal trail, so prosecutors could use the ill-gotten gains against a defendant. It was lying. Perjury.

“Is there a problem here, people?” Monroe asked, scanning from face to face around the table. “Just in case some of you missed it, let me catch you up on current events. Our suspect has engaged and destroyed two, fully armed, military interceptors. He
is responsible for untold financial damage to the citizens of north Houston. We have businesses without power, homes without water, and roads that are impassable. Millions and millions of dollars lost. Can anyone here support an argument that extreme measures aren’t warranted?”

No one offered any such support.

“I didn’t think so. I’m tempted to haul Maria Weathers in, regardless of what our surveillance says. I think she’s waist deep in this.”

Agent Shultz, now on temporary assignment to the Houston office, finally spoke up. “I wouldn’t recommend that, sir. She’s a known public figure and very well connected.
Besides, given how most divorced people feel about each other, you might actually be doing Weathers a favor.”

Shultz’s logic broke the tension in the room, a few chuckles here and there.

Monroe saw no humor in the response
. “This bureau doesn’t avoid making arrests because of wealth or fame. The only reason I’m not bringing her in is because if she is helping Weathers, she’ll mess up, and we’ll catch them both. If she’s sitting in a detention cell, he can’t contact her.”

Shultz didn’t like being scolded, but let it pass. “Sir, we’re now tied into the NSA’s facial recognition systems with a dedicated fiber optic pipe. Every police cruiser’s dash cam, every traffic camera, every
tollbooth… hell, every camera in the city is being fed into the system. We’re scanning over 10 million faces an hour. If he’s walking or driving around Houston, we’ll find him eventually.”

Another agent chimed in, “We
also have two Mark IV Predator drones on constant orbit above the city. They are feeding into the spook’s system as well. We’re scanning everyone from the homeless under overpasses to the parking lots of grocery stores. He’ll look up eventually.”

Satisfied with the scale of the dragnet, Monroe dismissed the meeting.

Maria heard the car’s engine outside, a signal Eva and her lawyer had arrived. Checking herself in the hallway mirror, she was at the door before her guests could ring the bell.

“Eva!” Maria greeted, hugging her old friend straight away. After the embrace, she held the older woman by the shoulders at arm’s length and stated, “You haven’t aged a day!”

The host’s attention then turned to Grace, a sweeping glance informing the ex-wife that the new girlfriend was indeed an attractive woman, smartly dressed with engaging eyes. Maria was sure she had just been assessed as well.

The two guests pulled small suitcases, the wheel
s rolling noisily along the marble entrance to Maria’s grand foyer. The visitors entered wide-eyed and inhaling sharply, compliments like, “Oh this is beautiful,” and “Isn’t this just gorgeous,” filling the air.

After being shown to their guest rooms
and given a chance to freshen up, the three women reassembled in the kitchen. Maria and Grace deciding on wine, Eva opting for decaf coffee.

The granite
countertops, room-dividing bar, and plush stools always seemed to be the natural place for social clustering in the home. Despite the huge sectional sofa in the nearby family room and a formal living room with dimensions just slightly smaller than a high school gymnasium, people always gravitated toward the kitchen. This evening was no exception, and Maria had already prepared a tray of cheese, crackers, and various finger breads for her visitors.

Both Maria and Grace were extremely curious about each other, both determined not to let it show. Despite Dusty being a shared point of reference for both women, each understood that Eva was the one in need, her husband in peril.

“The police kept asking Hank about his last visit to Dusty’s workshop. Over and over again, they kept repeating the same questions. It was like Hank and Dusty were drug dealers… or worse,” Eva fretted.

“I heard on the radio that the police
suspected Dusty was in Houston. I assume they’ve been by to speak with you, Maria.” Grace probed.

“Yes, the FBI sent two men here to question me. I
found their way of thinking just plain silly. What man on the run goes to his ex-wife for help?”

Eva started to protest, “Now,
Maria, we both know that you and Dusty…” but Maria held up a finger to her lips. Quickly snatching up a piece of paper, she wrote, “The FBI has my house bugged, I’m sure. Please don’t say anything.”

Both visitors nodded as their host spun the paper around so they could see her note.

“Anyway,” Maria continued, winking at her guests, “They’ve been following me everywhere. What a waste of the taxpayers’ money.”

Grace nodded, “This entire endeavor is a waste of money. You should have seen the number of government men in Fort Davis
. It was as if the town were invaded. And for what? Hank? No offense, Eva, but Hank’s not exactly a dangerous man.”

Snorting, Maria added, “I bet that entire berg is up in arms over this. The scandal of it all,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “That’s one of the reasons why I had to leave. I just couldn’t handle everyone knowing everyone else’s business.”

Grace countered, “I’m just the opposite. I had to get out of Dallas and find a simpler place – a slower pace.”

“I bet you stirred the rumor pot when you first arrived in Fort Davis,” Maria ventured.

The lawyer nodded, her eyes focused on nothing as she recalled her first few months in a new town. “It was difficult at first, but I’m glad I did. You know, Dusty, Hank, and Eva were all so kind to me – helped smooth the transition.”

Maria studied Grace, deciding she actually liked the woman. There was nothing competitive about her, despite her education and financial success. She actually found herself visualizing her guest and her ex-husband as a couple. They would be good for each other.

Eva excused herself, heading off to the powder room. After she was gone, Maria grabbed the notepad and scribbled, “Dusty is okay. He’s safe for the moment.”

The smile that flashed across Grace’s face said it all.
She does feel for Dusty… beyond any attorney-client bullshit
, concluded Maria.
I wonder what Dusty thinks of her?

It occurred to Maria that
Grace might not have seen the day’s newspaper article. Eva was just returning when, holding a finger to her lips, Maria slid the paper in front of her two guests. Both women read in silence with Grace finishing first, her mannerisms mimicking someone who had just figured out a complex puzzle.

Eva’s reaction was completely different, sitting quietly with a far off gaze. Taking the nearby notepad, she scribbled, “Can this be true?”

Both Grace and Maria nodded, neither woman realizing the effect on Hank’s wife. “I’m scared for Hank,” she whispered. “I had no idea he was involved in anything. I don’t think he had any concept of what was going on.”

Grace chose her words carefully, always conscious of someone listening in.
Taking Eva’s hand, she soothed, “Your husband didn’t do anything wrong, Eva. I’m sure of that. I think the government is making a mountain out of a molehill because of paranoia over terrorism. Besides, all these cops have to justify their existence somehow. We’ll get it straightened out at the hearing.”

That compassion was genuine
, observed Maria.
She honestly does care, and in the end, that’s all that really matters.

With Dusty resting just over a mile away, he had no idea how lucky a man he was. There was no way he could know or understand that his ex-wife had just given her seal of approval to the new woman in his life.

Four blocks away, an FBI agent yawned and adjusted his earpiece. He’d been watching and listening to Maria’s home for nine straight hours, virtually trapped in the small, unmarked sedan. His relief had a sick kid and would be a few hours late. 

Stretching stiffly, he cursed
the men who had ordered him to spend such a lengthy period sitting in a seat that wasn’t designed for extended stints of stationary work.

He wondered if the “good old days
,” when surveillance was conducted from the back of a panel van, wasn’t a better idea.
At least you could stretch your legs
, he reasoned. The few men left at the bureau who had actually worked with such equipment claimed otherwise, telling stories of constant sweating due to the heat generated by the radios and electronic equipment.

Long gone were the days of entry teams burglarizing a suspect’s home, planting electronic eavesdropping devices at key locations while others disguised as utility repairmen twisted wires on utility poles and switch boxes. Now, entering a residence was completely unnecessary.

The agent looked down at his pad computer, switching microphones with a simple tap on the screen. The listening devices were actually outside Maria’s home. Four tiny, fly-sized buttons were in place on strategic windows, fired from over 50 feet away by a special air-powered pistol. Coated with a layer of super-sticky gelatin, the devices could send both video and audio data and would remain in place for 40 hours. After that, they would fall harmlessly to the ground, eventually dissolving into nothingness.