Grains of Truth (3 page)

“Water would be nice.” She lowered herself into one of two sleek leather chairs in the grouping. It seemed safer, somehow, than the couch—where the enemy could easily encroach. Oh, yes, he may very well be the enemy. It was an instinctive reflex, not a conscious designation. In the center of the glass-top coffee table lay a single legal file, with no visible markings. It was at least two inches thick.

Mr. Caldwell, Brad, came to sit on the end of the couch next to her chair. He leaned forward with elbows on spread knees, hands clasped between them and head bent—as if in prayer. When his head came up on an intake of breath, his penetrating blue eyes latched onto Julia’s apprehensive ones.

“We’re grateful to you for coming, Julia. You can’t imagine the difficulty of the task we, as a nation, are facing.”

Before she could respond to this innocuous remark, the door opened to readmit the efficient Ms. Manning bearing a tall, clear glass of water. Placing it precisely on a coaster embossed with the seal of the U.S. Government, she departed as silently as she had come.

Julia followed Brad’s gaze on her retreating back to see another man enter and close the door quietly behind him. Older, with thinning gray hair, he stooped slightly forward, as if he carried a heavy burden. He’d evidently traded in his uniform for a modest gray suit, with a slight sheen here and there from years of pressing. Otherwise, he presented as neat an appearance as “the others,” with not a scuff on his black wingtips. 

Removing heavy glasses that left a permanent dent on his nose, he offered a large, time-worn hand and said in a deep, authoritative voice, “Good morning, Ms. Grant. I’m Robert Bronson. Please call me Bob. We appreciate your coming today, especially on such short notice.” 

Brad had risen in unmistakable deference and remained standing until Bob Bronson sat heavily in the chair facing Julia. A current of anxious energy flowed between the two men beneath their pleasantries. With a slight nod from Bob, Brad cleared his throat and captured Julia’s eyes with his own.

“Bob’s joined us because the matter we wish to discuss with you is of such great importance.” He paused. “We know that you’re well-informed regarding the critical global situation. As you’re no doubt aware, the government has found it necessary to monitor the movements and activities of our citizens, as well as non-citizens, who travel between the U.S. and certain other countries.”

A few heartbeats of silence punctuated the troubling implication. “Through the powers granted us by The Patriot Act, we’re much better able to keep our fingers on the pulse of information and activities that might prove helpful in the War on Terror.”

This pause stretched on interminably as Bob nodded silently and Julia felt her limbs turn to stone. A shrill alarm clanged wildly in her head. The Patriot Act: The highly controversial power granted by Congress to the government to snoop into the private and personal affairs of every American citizen without their consent—or even their knowledge. Every liberal—including Julia and almost everyone she knew—and liberal organization throughout the country had opposed it and continued to protest it still.

Brad picked up the voluminous file from the coffee table, opened it and continued matter-of-factly. “Your first trip to Egypt, a few months after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, triggered an automatic monitoring of your travels there and elsewhere. Our sources have provided us with details of your movements, contacts and activities since then.” 

He glanced up from the file and his sharp look said it all. Julia knew what that file contained. It confirmed her worst fears. Heat suffused her entire body. She reached for the glass of water in hopes of dissolving the growing lump lodged in her throat. 

Sensing her discomfort, Bob Bronson leaned forward and said reassuringly, “Ms. Grant, please understand that this is all a routine part of government intelligence gathering and in no way do we mean to frighten you. We are simply faced with a daunting challenge and must use all the tools at our disposal to protect the people of this country as well as millions of others around the world.” 

Julia found the fact that he mentioned not wanting to frighten her incredibly frightening. All she could do for the moment was nod silently. She tucked her chin towards her chest to minimize the shaking of her head, unable to look away from them—mesmerized—as if seeing a pair of cobras hypnotizing her before the fatal strike.

“The urgency of the situation in which we now find ourselves forces us to act much more hastily than we would like. And to make choices that we wouldn’t normally consider.” Brad spoke with a hint of thinly suppressed frustration. “In fact, we’re now forced to make use of resources that would have been heretofore unthinkable.”

His eyes bore into hers.

“We’ve asked you here today not only for the valuable information that you may possess, but also to request that you undertake a relatively simple assignment for your country.”

Chapter 5

Julia sat paralyzed for an interminable moment. She became aware that, for the past hour, she’d scarcely taken a breath. Exploding back into life, she expelled a sharp laugh. “You must be joking! Surely, if you know so much about me, you know that I have absolutely no background for this kind of thing. And surely you must also be aware that I’m a dedicated pacifist—totally opposed to military aggression and violence of any kind.” 

Bob rose and came to stand beside her chair, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. Under the circumstances, it shouldn’t have felt as reassuring as it did.

“Julia,” he said quietly, “please hear us out. You will be interested in what we have to say, I promise you. And if, in the end, you choose not to help, we’ll respect your decision.”

This was beyond belief. A nightmare come true. “All right,” she shrugged defensively. “I’ll listen. I can’t promise more than that.”

The two men exchanged another wordless look and, once again opening the file, Brad began to recite in a clipped tone. “Your first trip to Egypt was on a tour. There, you became involved with the tour director, Mohamed Zahar. Returning to the U.S., you remained in contact with him. Your relationship was one of more than friendship but you were not lovers. You returned to Cairo a few months later, making your own travel plans. Mr. Zahar joined you to travel to Luxor, back to Cairo and then to Alexandria. There, instead of staying in separate hotel rooms as you’d done previously, you rented an apartment where you spent three nights together. On this trip, you presented Mr. Zahar with a substantial cash payment, presumably in compensation for his services as your guide.”

He paused to allow the insulting implication to hang in the air and then proceeded as her heart sank slowly to the floor. “Again returning to San Francisco, you remained in contact, planning your next rendezvous. You made arrangements to meet in Rome in October of that same year, in order to… ”

That did it. Fireworks exploded in Julia’s head. She shot to her feet. “Oh my god! You can hold it right there, Mr. Caldwell.” Her face burned bright with her new-found fury. “It is not necessary for you to go on. You’ve made your point.” She clenched her fists and pressed them against her thighs. “You know much, much more about my personal business than you have any right to know. Or you think you know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, with fingers still in a rigid curl. “Just cut to the chase and tell me why I’m here.” 

Brad slumped back against the gleaming black leather. The reds and yellows, blues and greens spun in the painting above his head. Silence filled the room like thick smoke, the only sound Julia’s shallow breath as she struggled for control. These bastards were sorely mistaken if they thought they were going to intimidate her. Bob stood, shoved his hands in his pockets and went to the window. Her flashing eyes shot daggers at his sloping back. Outside, dark clouds gathered, shrouding the sky all across the bay.

At length Bob spoke in a tired voice, tinged with gloom. “Julia, today we face unprecedented danger. Never, in the history of this country—in the history of the world—have we been up against anything like this. We’re fighting on so many fronts and on so many levels that, even with thousands of people working around the clock, we struggle to stay ahead of the game.” Returning to his chair, he settled weary eyes on her lovely, outraged face.

“This is the fight of our lives. You must understand that your file and the information it contains is one of many. We asked you here today not to embarrass or to threaten, but because we believe you possess the ability to contribute a real service to your country.”

Her breathing had slowed and the hammering in her chest subsided to a steady thud. They definitely had their own version of good-cop, bad-cop down to a science. “Fine. I understand all that. Once again, I ask you: What do you want from me?”

Brad brushed past Julia to step behind the desk and opened a drawer to remove another file, this one much thinner and clearly marked “Confidential - Level 2.”

“You’re perfectly correct in your assessment of our presence in Egypt. The U.S. has had strong business ties there for many years and we have a long-standing and sound collaborative relationship with the government—particularly in the area of intelligence. But since September 11th,” he cleared his throat, “things have changed. And the pressure placed on Mubarak’s government by our administration for more democratic reforms has put a strain on diplomatic relations between our two countries.”

“A considerable strain,” Bob added dryly.

The storm clouds outside the window framed Brad, now seated on the edge of the desk. He flicked a piece of lint off his otherwise immaculate slacks and continued.

“Needless to say, we have agents in place throughout the Middle East. Egypt is of particular importance as Cairo is the main hub for the region and, of course, its proximity to Israel. It’s also a hotbed of militants. Since the 1995 attacks on tourists in Luxor, the government has cracked down on them—hard. Their methods, as I’m sure you’re aware, are extreme. Outlawing the Muslim Brotherhood did little to diminish its effectiveness. Security appears to be tight around all public places—the airports, hotels, museums and sites of antiquity—but the whole country is essentially wide open. The hard-core militants simply moved their base of operations deeper underground, to the middle region of the country, somewhere along the Nile.”

Thus far, he had told Julia nothing she didn’t already know. She’d endeavored to learn and to understand as much about contemporary Egyptian society as she could, and the history of the politics in the region played an important role in that. Egypt had been ruled by foreigners for centuries before the 1952 revolution that overthrew the monarchy established by the British several decades before. Once the British gained control of the newly completed Suez Canal in 1869, they had tenaciously clung to their dominance over the government. It was, as usual, a matter of economics, as the canal was vital to their interests in controlling trade in the Mediterranean and, crucially, the sea route to India.

When members of the Egyptian Army finally had enough of Britain’s high-handed “protection,” they persuaded King Farouk, pawn of the British, to abdicate and then—quite literally—set Cairo ablaze. Since 1954, when Gamal Abdel Nasser became Egypt’s President, the same authoritarian group had governed Egypt. Nasser was succeeded by his Vice President, Anwar al-Sadat, who was in turn succeeded by his Vice President, Hosni Mubarak. Mubarak had held the office of President since 1981 and recently had won the election for another six-year term. 

Mohamed had schooled her on how the single-party, secular government had steadily caused an increase of resentment among religious leaders and conservative Muslims alike, due to their failure to provide for basic necessities, and the country’s staggering economic problems. High unemployment, limited job opportunities, an exploding birth rate, chronic deficits and a huge and cumbersome bureaucracy left the government open to criticism by the fundamentalists.

It was the age-old story of the rich getting richer, the poor getting poorer and the beleaguered middle-class being squeezed down the chain. When the various Islamic fundamentalist groups protested with violence, the government responded with severe repression, turning Egypt into a virtual totalitarian state. This created the perfect environment to foment terrorists bent on Jihad.

Brad broke into Julia’s reverie. “As you probably know, four of the terrorists in the September 11th attacks were Egyptian. One of them, Mohammed Atta al Sayad, is believed to have been the leader of the attacks.”

His voice dropped an octave. “Recent undercurrents lead us to believe that another major strike may be in the planning stages. Word is that the scope of this one could make September 11th seem like a preview of coming attractions.” 

The full weight of that prospect vibrated in the air. “Our people are working night and day on this, and I’m sure we don’t have to tell you to what lengths we’ll go to prevent any such thing from happening.”

Brad sighed as he returned to the couch. “The trouble is, with the on-going situation in Iraq, instability in Afghanistan, the issues with Iran and North Korea’s nuclear proliferation, the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict and dozens of other hot spots around the globe, our military and intelligence resources are stretched to the max.”

Julia lowered herself back into the chair. Again, nothing he’d said was news to her. The media sporadically reported on the failure of several branches of the military to meet recruiting goals. She wasn’t aware of any such reports regarding intelligence agencies, but it would be a logical conclusion.