Illusion of Splendor
An International Thriller by J.D. Easley
Waterton Publishing Company
No part of this book was created using Artificial Intelligence (AI).
This is a work of fiction. The events described are imaginary and the settings and characters are fictitious and not intended to represent actual places, companies, or persons.
Copyright © 2012 by J.D. Easley. Waterton Publishing Company. All Rights Reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproducedin any form without permission.
Published simultaneously worldwide.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012947104
ISBN: 978-0-9905249-0-8
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ILLUSION OF SPLENDOR
II PRIVACY
From work to personal email and an inbox comprised of eight new unread messages quickly reviewed by subject; two certainly spam one of which guarantying lasting penile erections, his younger brother with another unwanted quip of conservative humor, two female friends for reasons as yet unknown, the ACLU seeking another donation, a male faculty member likely confirming lunch for that Saturday, and Malik Said of the East-West Business Development Foundation; this last being the first email opened as Robert had been anticipating final details for the Paris lecture.
“Dear Professor Downing, It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the first of hopefully many more lectures to come in the series, ‘Islam within Christian Cultures, Seeking a Broader Understanding’ presented by the East-West Business Development Foundation. Yours will be the third lecture in the May Paris seminar, the topic being religious freedom under American law, and you are scheduled for 1 ¼ hours on May 22 beginning at 1:00 p.m. It is anticipated you will speak for approximately fifty minutes and the remainder of your time will be allotted for questions and answers. English is acceptable, as is, of course, French. The audience will consist primarily of business people and representatives of non-governmental organizations. We will reimburse your airline ticket fare, business class, airport to hotel and hotel to seminar private transportation, and two nights’ hotel accommodations and meals of your choosing not to exceed €300 per day. Your fee of €500 will be paid upon your arrival. The seminar will be at the Hotel Internationale on Boulevard Saint Germain near the Arab World Institute. I await your arrival with much enthusiasm. Respectfully, Malik”
Robert keyed a short reply, “Dear Malik, Thank you for your kind email. I am very much looking forward to this engagement and meeting you on May 22. I will call once in Paris. Best regards, Robert”; noted on a yellow sticky pad, “photocopy lecture materials and résumé,” and reviewed his flight itinerary, online, Washington to Paris May 20 returning June 10. Reclining in his high-back leather office chair, stocking feet on the edge of his cherry roll top desk, eyes closed, Robert’s thoughts were of the ten days prior to May 20: one more class and preparation, final assignments to be graded, the final exam, and finding someone to water his plants and feed Friskers, the large male Siamese cat on the couch, asleep on a pillow. Another thought and eyelids rose, “what if a subpoena arrives for Frank Caprizio’s trial, if trial there were, could it possibly be that soon?” Deciding not, Robert left the chair for the kitchen and a glass of refrigerated day-old red wine.
Meanwhile, not far from Robert’s apartment, in a very large room with concrete floors, backup generators, and expansive cooling ducts, a mainframe computer programmed to inspect millions of emails each minute initiated an algorithm based upon a combination of specific words in one exchange: “security, terrorist, Muslims, bomb, gun, V Tech, guards, torture, terrorist, airplane, crash, terrorist, assignment.”
A second algorithm initiated within a few seconds, associating at least one of the email accounts triggering the initial hit, “east-west business development foundation, malik said, Arab world institute.”
A third algorithm confirmed a relationship between the two email strings, and a fourth identified the senders and recipients by name, “Robert Downing, Malik Said, Rain Walker.” A digital report with copies of the suspect emails arrived at the National Security Agency’s intake analyst section within seconds.
Glenda cherished two things: her morning tea, spiced ginger with a teaspoon of honey, and Heidi, the white and brown American Pit Bull Terrier rescued from a fighting ring when just a puppy. Glenda was a dispatcher for the Montgomery County Police Department seven years ago when late one Saturday a complaint of dog fighting came across her desk. The dispatch went to the patrol officer closest to the scene, William Bryant, an amiable young man with a community college Associates Degree in law enforcement and just six months out of the academy.
Officer Bryant responded to the call alone – his partner had gone home earlier that day complaining of the flu – and pulled his patrol car to the curb two blocks away from an old brick house on a treed acre in Wheaton. Confirming his arrival on the scene with Glenda, he agreed, reluctantly, to wait for backup before approaching the house. For a reason Glenda did not comprehend until holding Heidi for the first time, however, Officer Bryant did not wait.
The post-mortem investigation concluded he voluntarily abandoned his patrol car shortly after radioing Glenda and walked alone on the sidewalk past a row of tightly parked cars until close enough to the brick house that he could probably hear the sound of men yelling and cheering. Glenda believes he also heard barking, perhaps even, whimpering. Whatever the reason, Officer Bryant left the sidewalk for the grass instead of the driveway, walking in spongy leaves under towering oak and hickory trees toward a waist-high chain link fence adjacent to the garage, hoping perhaps to peer unnoticed into the backyard.
Not more than two steps from the chain link fence, Officer Bryant inadvertently touched a barely visible ankle-high makeshift electric fence consisting of just four wires several inches apart running from two electrical outlets the length of the front yard. The contraption was designed as a deadly obstacle for any dog clearing the chain link barrier. A shoe, a sock, a pant leg, William Bryant’s ankle come into contact with the wires while stepping cautiously toward the fence, probably causing him to fall forward, screaming and reflexively grabbing at the links while two-hundred-twenty volts streamed through his body. The investigation was unclear as to when and why he drew his revolver, found in the tall grass a few feet from his body.
The brick house had been through foreclosure and vacant for over a year. Officers arriving later on the scene found no sign of people, just dogs, dogs locked in rooms, tied to trees, in cages, mothers and puppies, alive, malnourished, some with gaping infected wounds, others dead, still others buried. Glenda drove to the scene as soon as she heard of Officer Bryant’s death and found animal control officers at the house loading live dogs in trucks for transport to animal hospitals and shelters.
Glenda walked around the back of the house and found Heidi, alone, huddled in the corner of a basement window-well where she had apparently fallen, near death from starvation. Tears spilling down her cheeks, Glenda stooped, reached, and with one hand pulled the quivering puppy from a certain coffin. Holding the tiny body to her face she whispered, “It’s okay now, you’ll be okay, I’m taking you home with me.” A few days later, after attending the memorial service for William Bryant, Glenda named the puppy Heidi, after William Bryant’s two-year old daughter.
Sitting at her kitchen table under the faint glow of an energy efficient bulb over an electric stove, Glenda sipped ginger tea and squinted to read a Washington Post front page article about the Supreme Court’s acceptance of a Fourth Amendment search and seizure case. The FBI searched a computer hard drive without a warrant, resulting in a conviction for securities fraud. “Why,” Glenda wondered, would the cops not have time to get a warrant to search the hard drive of a computer?
With a teaspoon she scooped more honey from a jar and swirled it into her cup, took another sip and held the paper closer, squinting even harder, reading with some difficulty that the defendant was an accountant for a hedge fund, that the hedge fund was under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission, and that the accountant was boarding a plane to Hong Kong carrying a notebook computer. Squinting until her eyelids were barely apart an inquisitive wrinkle crossed the bridge of Glenda’s nose. “Why didn’t they just detain the accountant at the airport” she pondered aloud, “and go get a warrant?” She swirled the honey and took another sip.
Waiting prone on oak flooring in a corner of the kitchen next to a food bowl and sliding glass door, Heidi’s head sprung and tilted slightly above a pillow of paws attempting to discern any culinary intent behind Glenda’s words. Glenda adjusted the paper to catch as much light as possible from the hood and read on: “Ah,” certainly addressing Heidi, “he was a citizen of China and had a diplomatic passport; how does an accountant get a diplomatic passport?” Glenda let loose the newspaper and to paws went Heidi’s head.
“The accountant’s going to win old girl,” Glenda shuffled to the sink and into it placed her empty cup, “because he’s Chinese!” opened the door of a cabinet and removed a plastic tub. Heidi jumped to her feet.
Arriving at her station a little after eight, Glenda logged in as “Analyst 47335” to find waiting fourteen emails; she skimmed the subject lines, opened an intake folder and counted twenty-two analyst requests, computer generated queries related to email exchanges requiring further attention. Sighing in relief, “Thank God it’s Friday,” Glenda grabbed a Redskins sixteen ounce travel coffee mug, swiveled in her chair, stood, exited her work cubical, marched through other cubes uttering pleasant good mornings to all she passed, through a door and into a large break room to pour a cup of strong coffee from an old Bunn double carafe brewer. One cup was her daily allotment; savoring the aroma, she returned recharged to her computer and sat back in front of the screen.