Infringement (5 page)

“From where?”

“Who knows? For all I know he could have been tagged SCI by the Homeland Director or even the president. The point is, this sounds like something way above your pay grade and, obviously, your clearance level. You’ve done your due diligence on this one. I’d let it go here.”

Declan raised his sidearm, squared to his target, and fired five quick rounds, each of which found the innermost kill circle of the target. Taking off his headset, Declan replied, “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

Kevin put his shooting glasses and ear protection on, raised his Sig Sauer P226 and eyed the target 50 feet in front of him. “No, you don’t,” he said as the sound of his weapon firing echoed through the range.

December 21
^st

Under the pretense of conducting field work in a developing meth-cooking case, Declan left the bureau office around 2:30 and headed home. David Stanton was still gnawing at him and, despite what he’d said to Kevin, Declan knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it alone. He needed to know about Stanton, to know why he’d been classified SCI, and as much as he both dreaded and hungered for the call, Declan knew the one person who could, and would, get him the information he wanted. Unfortunately, that person was Megan Neary, whom, until about eight months earlier, had been his fiancée.

Megan came from an old-money Massachusetts family with substantial connections which, coupled with her general brilliance, she’d parlayed into a position at the Department of Justice right out of law school. Within a few months after joining the DOJ, Megan caught the attention of the kind of people whose attention an up and comer welcomes. One of those people moved into a Deputy Directorship at Homeland Security a year or so later and took Megan with him. Not long after Megan moved to Homeland Security, Declan had completed his training at the Bureau and was transferred out of Washington D.C., back home. Shortly after that, Megan became his ex fiancée, a status he had trouble coming to grips with.

He had only talked with Megan twice, very casually and friendly, since they’d split. It wasn’t his favorite option, but Declan knew Megan was an insider at Homeland, and she had the type of security clearance that could get him the information he needed on Stanton. Plus, it was an excuse to hear her voice again, which was something Declan missed dearly. He somewhat reluctantly and nervously dialed her cell phone.

“This is Megan Neary,” she answered after a few rings.

“Megan, it’s Declan. How are you?”

“I know who it is, and I’m good. How are you, stranger?”

“Fine, just keeping busy. Something I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“You have no idea. I barely have time to breathe and I’m supposed to be home for Christmas tomorrow night. It’s insane. I’m going to be working on the train the whole way up tomorrow and probably the whole time I’m home.”

“They’re keeping you that busy eh?”

“It’s ridiculous really, but, it is what it is. Too many bad guys. What about you? It must be nice to be back home and not have to do the whole TSA-groping holiday travel thing.”

“One of the few perks of being out of D.C. and back in the sticks.”

“So are you getting together with your mom and Evan, Michelle and the kiddos?”

“Yeah,” Declan replied. “We do the same thing every year. You know the drill.”

“I sure do. Your family Christmas is so much more laid back than mine.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I really miss it sometimes. I miss your mom too. Is she doing well?”

“She’s doing great. She’s training for her twelfth marathon. You know her. What you see is what you get.”

“That’s one of things I love most about her.”

“Well, you should come down sometime,” he said hesitantly. “I know she’d love to see you.”

“What about you? Would you love to see me?”

“I thought that went without saying.”

“After last year, I don’t take anything between us for granted, Declan.”

“Well,” Declan paused, “I think we both wish that had gone better. The long-distance thing… well, I guess it just doesn’t work too well sometimes.”

“I’ve actually been giving that a lot of thought lately,” she replied.

“You have?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“I think the determining factor in whether a long-distance relationship works or not is the amount of work the people in the relationship are willing to put into it.”

“I tend to agree with you.”

“So…”

“So what, Megan?”

“How much work are we willing to put into it?”

“After the way things were left the last time I saw you, the time when you insisted I take your engagement ring back, I wasn’t under the impression there was any relationship left for us to work on.”

“If, hypothetically, after having sufficient time to reach the conclusion that she didn’t put enough work into her relationship with a certain guy, and to regret her decision, a girl said she hoped there still might be something to work on, what would the guy say?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Well, maybe not entirely hypothetically,” she responded.

“I suppose he’d ask why the girl regretted her decision.”

“Because she now realizes what she had and what an idiot she was to give it up… to give up the man who knew her better than anyone else in the world and, despite knowing her deep dark secrets still loved her and could always make her laugh, just because of a thousand or so stupid miles.”

Declan couldn’t speak for a moment. He’d hoped for that moment, for her to say those words in one form or another, since the last time he’d seen her.

“Declan, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“So… what would the guy say?”

“He’d say… he’d say that he never stopped loving the girl and as far as he’s concerned no amount of miles in the world could keep him from her.”

“He sounds like a bit of a romantic.”

“He is a bit of a romantic.”

“So, should the girl call her family and tell them she can’t come home for Christmas this year after all and, instead, buy herself a plane ticket to come see the guy tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.”

December 21
^st

Declan had been so overwhelmed by Megan’s unexpected change of heart that he’d hung up without asking her to look into David Stanton’s file, and had to call her back. Megan took Stanton’s name and social and said she’d see what, if anything, she could come up with.

In the meantime, Declan did the dishes and began cleaning up his apartment in anticipation of Megan’s imminent arrival. When he’d finished cleaning, he sat down on the sofa and turned on the news. The news anchor was asking a female correspondent, who was apparently somewhere in the Middle East, if she could confirm earlier reports that the Israelis had launched a unilateral attack against various military and nuclear facilities inside Iran and that, in retaliation, missiles had, in fact, been fired from Gaza, Lebanon and Syria into Israel. “At this point, we’ve received no official confirmation, but various unofficial sources have confirmed numerous explosions at different locations in Iran, including near the Fordow and Arak nuclear facilities. I’ve also received confirmation that a number of missiles were fired at Tel Aviv, Galilee, and other Israeli towns earlier this evening. Early indications are that the missiles originated in Gaza, Lebanon and Syria. Again, we’re still awaiting official word from the Israeli government on both points, but if true, this attack would mark a critical turn in Israel’s position with respect to the Iranian nuclear program and its relations with both Syria and Iran, not to mention Hamas, Hezbollah and its other neighbors in the region.”

Declan’s phone rang and he looked to see Evan’s number on the display. “Hey, Ev. What’s up?”

“Have you been watching the news at all today?”

“I actually just turned it on. Do you think the Israelis really hit Iran?”

“It appears that way, and if so things over there are just about to get really interesting. All the pieces finally seem to be lining up.”

“Lining up for what?”

“What mom and I have been telling you about all this time, the further fulfillment of God’s Word,” Evan replied. “If Israel hit Iran unilaterally, that’s a big deal. The Iranians certainly aren’t going to take it sitting still and this could be the match that leads us into the Psalm 83 battle and the complete destruction of Damascus, just like Isaiah told us would happen thousands of years ago, especially with The Islamic State now looking toward Israel as a new target.”

“Isaiah?”

“Isaiah 17, Declan.”

“Right, of course. What does it say again?”

“It tells us of the complete destruction of Damascus overnight.”

“Hasn’t that already happened, like thousands of years ago?”

“Nope, Damascus is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, so we know that the Isaiah 17 prophecy still hasn’t been fulfilled. That’s what I’m saying, Declan. We could be seeing the beginning of its fulfillment right now.”

“Gotcha. I guess that would be a big deal if it actually happened.”

“You guess? Just do me a favor and read it. Read it now while the news still has your attention. Do some investigation Special Agent Parker and let me know what you think.”

“Alright, I will Dr. Parker. I will.”

“Excellent. I’ll talk to you later little brother.”

“Okay, later.”

Declan hung up and focused on the aerial news feed images coming in from Tel Aviv, then he reluctantly picked up his Bible and eventually opened it to Isaiah. Finding Isaiah 17, he read:

“
¹
An oracle concerning Damascus: ‘See, Damascus will no longer be a city but will become a heap of ruins.
²
The cities of Aroer will be deserted and left to flocks, which will lie down, with no one to make them afraid.
³
The fortified city will disappear from Ephraim, and the royal power from Damascus; the remnant of Aram will be like the glory of the Israelites,’ declares the Lord Almighty.”

Half-interested, Declan read the passage a few times and realized, aside from the part saying Damascus would no longer be a city, but a heap of ruins, that he really had no idea what or where the cities of Aroer and the fortified city of Ephraim were. He shrugged and closed the Bible, when his phone rang again.

“Hey,” he said. “Can’t get enough of me?”

“We have to make up for lost time,” Megan replied.

“No doubt.”

“I wanted to tell you that I bought my ticket. My flight gets in at 6:05 tomorrow evening.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“You’d better,” she said with a sly laugh. “Also, I ran this David Stanton guy you asked me about.”

“And?”

“Like you said, he’s SCI, and despite my security clearance, which doesn’t suck, I’m not on the authorized list.”

“So you couldn’t access his file either?”

“No, I couldn’t. However, I was able to call in a small favor and find out who placed him on SCI.”

“Who?”

“John Bleeker.”

“Did you say John Bleeker?”

“Yep,” Megan responded.

“John Bleeker is my Special Agent in Charge.”

“I figured that out too. See how smart I am?”

“That was never even a question, my dear. So, John Bleeker tagged Stanton SCI? Really?”

“Apparently.”

“But why?”

“That I don’t know, but I can tell you that this is no ordinary SCI. Only John Bleeker, the FBI Director, the Homeland Director, and the White House Chief of Staff have access to David Stanton’s file. That’s ridiculously high level clearance.”

“Seriously? Bleeker’s on the same list as the White House Chief of Staff and the Director. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

“I will say, based on my experience, it’s at least a bit unusual, although not entirely unheard of. Who is this Stanton guy anyway?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Well, be careful, Declan. Whoever he is, he has some extremely high level interest and we could both be in big trouble for even looking into this.”

“I will. I’ll meet you at baggage claim tomorrow. Call me when your flight’s about to leave.”

“Will do. I love you, Declan Parker.”

He let those words sink in for a second. The three words which, only a few hours earlier, Declan thought he’d never hear Megan say to him again. “I love you too.”

December 21
^st
and December 22
^nd

David Stanton had spent the day at work, preparing the church for the annual Christmas influx which would take place a few short days later. His thoughts returned throughout the day to the successful completion of his first bloodshed and he was compelled to sneak numerous peeks at the photo he’d taken of the dead man’s eyes. He was still absolutely fascinated by their blankness, their total absence of anything.

The transition he’d watched in those eyes the night before, the passing of life into death, replayed over and again in his mind and he wanted desperately to see it again, but in a more controlled environment. Stanton ached to kill again, but not to be rushed the next time. He wanted to watch the next victim and to record his or her eyes close up in order to try and capture the exact second when life left the eyes.

_______________________

A little after five in the evening, Stanton left work in the early winter darkness, drove through McDonalds to pick up dinner and headed home. After dinner he made some minor changes and upgrades to his website, killed an hour or so watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”, then spent a few hours on his simulator, which after tasting the experience of truly killing, left Stanton entirely unfulfilled.

When the night had finally progressed enough for most people to be home and off the streets, Stanton put on a fresh shirt, sweater and jeans, grabbed his jacket, as well as a brown wig trimmed to look like a man’s haircut, and headed to his black SUV. He drove out onto the street in front of his apartment building and passed Declan, who was sitting fifty feet or so down the street in one of the FBI’s unmarked Ford Mustangs. Long enough after Stanton passed not to be conspicuous, but still keeping his taillights in view, Declan fired up the Mustang and began to tail the black SUV from a safe distance, careful to keep a few cars between them.