CHAPTER 5
“I’ve never understood how God could expect His creatures to pick the one true religion by faith- it strikes me as a sloppy way to run a universe.” Robert A. Heinlein (Jubal Harshaw in Stranger in a Strange Land)
On Monday morning Toby awoke around 6 a.m., saw Tad lying in the bed next to him and recalled the events of the day before. “Surely,” he said to himself as he started to get out of bed, “I’m one of the luckiest people on the planet.” He then kissed his long-absent lover softly on the forehead and gently patted Jeddy before starting the coffee and taking a quick shower. After putting on a navy blue terry-cloth robe, he cooked some bacon and English muffins, cut a grapefruit in half, fixed two plates, arranged everything on a tray with a small bud vase and single flower that he took out of a larger arrangement in the living room, and carried it into his bedroom where Tad was just waking up.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said as she looked at him through half-opened eyes.
“What day is it? Who am I? Where am I?” she asked groggily, obviously still feeling the effects of jetlag from the day before.
Toby smiled as he answered. “It’s Monday morning, March 2, 2020. You are Tiffany Ashley Davenport who just arrived back in the U.S. after five years as a spy. You are in the bed of Winston Tobias Sullivan. Any more questions?”
“Yea,” she replied light-heartedly. “How many laws did we break last night? I feel too good not to have done something illegal.”
“Almost everything we did was perfectly legal,” Toby said as he placed the tray on the nightstand beside the bed. “Fortunately, there aren’t any laws in D.C. against sex outside of marriage; they are only in effect in a few states in the Deep South and mid-west. And the laws prohibiting birth control are only being enforced here and there in a few Catholic states. The D.C. government hasn’t gotten around to them yet.”
“Give them time; they will,” said Tad as she stretched her arms.
Eyeing the bacon, muffins, fruit and coffee, Davenport perked up and smiled. “That looks good. You are truly a man of many talents. I’d almost think you were gay if I didn’t know better.”
“Because I like classical music and can cook?” Toby asked as Tad got out of bed. “What a stereotype.”
“That, and because you aren’t as much of a pig as most men,” she said laughing. “Would you excuse me a moment? I’m going to the powder room.”
While Tad excused herself, Toby put the tray of food on the bed and walked out to the hall to fetch the newspaper. The headline on the front page was the biggest he had seen since the morning after 9/11/2001.
NATIONAL CATHEDRAL BOMBED!
Several Dead; Nearly 100 Injured
“Look at this,” Sullivan said as he returned to the bedroom and held up the paper. “Four bombs and nearly 20 people killed in less than a week. We have got to stop these people. After being at the Cathedral yesterday, this has become a little personal with me.”
“I can see how it would become personal,” said Tad while spreading butter on her English muffin. “But what do you mean when you say “we” have got to stop them? Don’t you mean that you and the other men have to stop them?” Tad responded. “It’s clear that Director Drake has no intention of allowing the ‘fairer sex’ to be involved with the actual physical work of tracking these people down. For Pete’s sake, does he think it requires a penis to solve a crime like this?”
“It is strange,” Toby responded after a sip of coffee. “When I came into the terrorism division, Drake had a totally different reputation than he has today. I didn’t know him that well until recently, so I don’t know what caused the change, but some agents who have worked with him for a long time claim that he began to change after being ‘born again’ and becoming an evangelical Christian. Apparently, his attitude toward women became much more traditional, including convincing his wife to give up her law practice so she could home school their children.”
“That’s interesting,” said Tad, while holding her coffee mug up. “Can I have some more?”
“Of course you can,” Sullivan said. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Toby. What do you think I should do?” Davenport called out to Toby as he made his way into the kitchen to get the coffee pot. “In spite of the religious drift of the country, I believe it is still illegal to discriminate against people based on their gender, isn’t it?”
“I believe it is,” Toby said as he returned to the bedroom. “So far, most of the laws that Congress and the state legislatures have passed to encourage women to stay home and raise families have been focused on economic incentives and disincentives. For example, Congress recently passed a bill that gives an extra $10,000 per-child credit for every child who is home-schooled and a 15 percent tax break to any two-parent, single-income family in which there are children under age 18. The tax-break is taken away if both parents are employed. Talk about discouraging both parents from working.”
“Yea, and we all know which parent will be staying home, don’t we?” Tad asked rhetorically. “So what am I supposed to do about this, Sullivan? I’m not the type to just let it go.”
Toby had just taken a large bite of English muffin. After swallowing the muffin and taking a sip of coffee, he said sarcastically, “Oh really? I would never have known that- but let me make a suggestion. Don’t do anything drastic for a day or two. It may be that Drake will change his mind and give you more responsibilities in line with your training and skills. And you can be sure that I’ll keep you in the loop on anything that Trey and I hear or discover.”
Tad was now out of bed, taking off the T-shirt Toby had loaned her and putting on the clothes that she had placed neatly on a chair in the corner of the bedroom.
“You know that goes against my grain, but maybe it isn’t all that bad of an idea given the situation. If Drake continues to be a male chauvinist jerk, I’ll have to do something. Otherwise, I’ll try to impress him with my expertise and wait for my chance to get out in the field and do what I’ve been trained to do. In the meantime, Toby, please keep me in the loop. I promise not to get too emotional or cry every time something bad happens.”
“And by the way,” she continued, “what’s the story with your partner Trey? Is he some kind of Christian fanatic, too?”
“I don’t think I would go that far,” Toby answered. “He is very religious and an organization freak, but he’s not a bad guy. He comes from a very prominent old-line aristocratic Virginia family. You might have detected his accent- the way he says ‘abote’ instead of ‘about.’ He went to UVA undergraduate and Yale Law School, and he has a beautiful wife and four nearly perfect children that she home-schools.
“Trey could have done almost anything he wanted after school, but he chose to work for the Bureau because he really wants to make the country safer and a better place for people to raise their families. And he’s very sincere about it…and very good at what he does. He’s got a first-rate mind for detail and organization. You probably noticed that he’s got one of those little computer notepads that responds to voice, keying or a special stylus and can instantly organize and report the information in almost any format you want.”
“Okay, if you say so, I’ll give the little preppy bow-tied nerd a chance,” Tad said as she finished putting on her shoes.
After dressing, Tad opened Toby’s closet door.
“Just checking to see if you still have your eclectic wardrobe, or if you have become a company man who follows the Bureau’s boring dress code.”
“A company man?” Sullivan asked laughing. “No way. I still like to wear whatever fits my mood or, if I can’t make up my mind, I close my eyes, choose a tie and then pick things to go with it,” Toby said.
“Thank goodness you haven’t given in to the Bureau’s fetish for dark suits and white shirts,” Tad observed.
“I still get a lecture every now and then for wearing blazers, tweed sport coats, light gray suits, and colored shirts,” Toby answered, “but as long as I have a coat and tie on, no one says too much.”
“That’s one of the things I like about you, Sullivan,” Tad said as she kissed him good-bye and headed into the living area to retrieve her handbag. “You have a little touch of the rebel in you.”
Toby called after her. “When can the rebel see you again?”
“I don’t know,” she responded as she opened the door to the outside hallway. “Last night was wonderful, but I need to think about things a little before we get back in high gear. I don’t want a repeat of five-years ago, do you?”
“No, but we are both older and wiser,” Toby responded. “And, I will do my best not to rush things.”
Tad laughed and smiled. “Thanks, Toby, but after last night, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
---
Toby was rarely as obsessed with punctuality as his partner, but this investigation had, in fact, become personal, which gave him more than enough incentive to get to the office by 7:30. Although there were FBI agents all over the country working around the clock on the attacks, the only other members of the elite task force who had arrived were Trey and Margaret Peabody, who had flown-in from Atlanta the night before. She hugged both of the agents and wiped away a few tears.
“Margaret, praise the Lord; we are indeed blessed that you are safe,” said Trey, who was an upbeat Christian if ever there was one. “I know the Lord was watching over you this weekend.”
“Thank you, Trey,” said Margaret, who was in her mid-twenties, tall, attractive, blonde and very southern. “I do feel kinda like the Lord was watching over me. If Director Drake hadn’t talked me into going home to Atlanta this weekend I might could have been one of those poor people killed or injured. He said I should go home so my mother could see me and make sure I was okay after those car bombs last week, but I think he must have gotten some kind of message from the Lord.”
“I’m sure he did,” said Trey. “Sometimes the Lord sends us messages and we have no idea that He has. The main thing is that you are okay. We need you here.”
Sullivan didn’t agree with a lot of the Christian platitudes that Trey was espousing, but he did want Peabody to know that he was glad she was safe. “I was very relieved when I discovered that you weren’t at church,” he said. “I know that you usually sit near the front on the north side of the nave, and that is exactly where the bomb went off. Thank goodness you were in Atlanta.”
“Was anyone I know hurt?” Peabody asked. “I heard on the radio that Senator Stevens and his wife were not there- but, what about that sweet family that usually sits in the pew across from me- the Hendersons? I hope they are okay.”
“I’m afraid they were all hurt pretty badly, but I think they will pull through,” Toby answered, feeling genuine empathy for the young family. “And I’m afraid that Rector York was injured, too. His injuries could have been much worse had he not been standing on the south side of the altar.”
Margaret wiped away a few more tears and then asked what she could do to help catch the “dreadful people” that bombed her church and killed and injured nice people that she saw almost every Sunday.
“There is a lot you can do for us,” Toby answered as he picked up a laser pointer off of Peabody’s desk, using it to highlight the counties around Leesburg, Virginia. “You can help us contact the law enforcement personnel in the Leesburg sector. We need every law enforcement agency within 25 miles of Leesburg to send representatives to the new administration building for a meeting at noon.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” Peabody said as she dabbed a few remaining tears with a paper tissue. “Y’all put me to work.”
By 10 a.m., all of the arrangements had been made for the two F.B.I. agents to travel to the formerly quaint, but now bustling Virginia town approximately 40 miles west of the nation’s capital. During the drive, first on I-66 West and then state road 267, Toby and Trey discussed the enormity of their task and the frustrations of hunting terrorists who often have virtually unlimited resources.
“I hope this plan works, but I admit I don’t have a lot of confidence that it will,” said Sullivan, who was driving the small electric sedan recently acquired by the Bureau. “History teaches us that anybody who has resources and wants to avoid being found is very difficult to capture, whether it is Eric Robert Rudolph, Osama bin Laden, John Chapman or Omar bin Mohammed. There are a lot of places to hide in the world.”
“Well at least our search area is somewhat narrower than the areas where all of them hid,” Trey suggested. “We have good reason to believe that the people we’re looking for are in a somewhat confined space.”
“Yea,” said Toby, “if you want to call an area that resembles a semicircle with a radius of 100 miles, “confined? That’s more than 15,000 square miles if my math is correct. That is a lot of area in which to hide, particularly if you have plenty of money to pay people to keep their mouths shut.”
“That might work for cult heroes who have loyal followers, but it won’t work for Muslim terrorists who have just killed and injured scores of women and children in a Christian church,” Rawlings argued. “I can’t imagine anyone in rural Virginia helping them.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Toby. “That’s another reason I don’t think we’re going to turn up anything. If I were a Muslim terrorist, I would hide out in cities such as Detroit where there are a lot of other Muslims, not in a rural area where I would stick out like a gay couple dancing at a Baptist picnic.”
“Now that’s an image I just as soon not visualize, but I see your point.” Trey responded. “It is difficult to imagine any Muslim, much less a terrorist cell, going unnoticed in Leesburg, Virginia or the rural area surrounding it. Still, if we can organize this search well enough and if we all pray for guidance, we just might find them.”
“I’m sure prayer can’t hurt,” Toby said, “but I wouldn’t mind some concrete clues.”
“I’ll pray for some of those, too,” Trey said. “I know the Lord wants us to stop this senseless violence, but He needs us to reach out to Him.”
Sullivan wasn’t always sure how to respond to his partner’s religious references and pronouncements, but on this day- after witnessing death and destruction the day before at his church- he wasn’t willing to allow things that made no sense to him go unchallenged.
“What do you mean the Lord wants us to stop the senseless violence?” Sullivan asked. “Yesterday you implied that God took an active hand in determining who lived and died in tragedies like the bombing. Today you say that God will help stop the violence if we reach out to Him. Why the hell do you think those people were in church? How much more reaching out could they do?”
“Look Toby,” Trey responded. “You have every right to be upset about what happened yesterday, but don’t take it out on God. If anything, you should be thanking God that you are alive. He didn’t plant the bomb.”
“No, He didn’t,” Toby agreed. “So what makes you think that He had anything to do with determining who was injured and who wasn’t? What makes you so sure He even cares what happens to individuals on earth?”
“Like I said yesterday,” Trey explained, “I believe that Christ died for us and rose from the dead. That is all I need to know.”
“So you believe everything in the Bible?” Toby asked. “For example, do you really believe that the earth is only a few thousand years old and that Noah actually had two of every animal in the world on his arc? Both of those stories defy logic and common sense.”
“I don’t have to believe them literally, but there is no proof to the contrary,” said Trey to his doubting friend.
“Surely you aren’t saying that you actually believe the arc story is true,” Toby prodded.
Trey responded with as much logic and information as he could muster.
“I understand your skepticism, but the story is not as far-fetched as you and others say. Based on measurements given in Genesis, most experts agree that the ark had approximately 1,500,000 cubic feet of open space, or something resembling a three-level barge the size of one-and-a-half football fields. According to various feasibility studies, this was more than enough room to keep representatives of all of the 16,000 to 25,000 distinct kinds of animals that were living then with all of their food for an entire year.”
Trey paused and then continued, “In fact, assuming that the average size of each animal was abote that of a sheep, this barge could actually hold up to 125,000 separate creatures. Going one step further, not only was the ark large enough for its cargo, it was designed perfectly for stability and sea-worthiness. Several hydrodynamic tests have confirmed that it was virtually impossible to capsize this barge, even in the most violent waves and winds.”
Toby looked at his partner and, in spite of his general frustration with what he considered religious hocus pocus, he grinned. “And I suppose Noah and his sons were experts at identifying the sex organs of all the animals and they all just happened to be fertile as well as live within walking distance of the arc.”
“Whether it happened literally that way is not important,” Trey said, “but don’t be so dismissive of the story, because it is very likely that there is some truth to it. And besides, even if those Old Testament stories are not literally true, Christ lived just a little over 2,000 years ago and his life, death and resurrection are as well documented as the reign of Julius Caesar. How much proof do you need?”
“More than you have given me,” said Toby. “I don’t mean to make light of your beliefs, but I’m afraid I am just not very open to religion right now.”
“That is unfortunate,” said Trey, “because religion is what can bring us peace at difficult times such as this.”
“Yea, what was it Karl Marx said about the opiate of the people?” Toby responded. “But let’s drop the theological debate for the time being if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, but you can’t stop me from praying for you to find peace through Jesus.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Toby said.
For the next few minutes, the two partners sat quietly as they cruised through the picturesque Virginia countryside. Then Toby broke the silence.
“Boy, I miss those old gas-guzzling sedans we used to drive,” he said, not knowing for certain whether Trey was listening or praying. “They were real cars - unlike these small electric toys. But I guess we have to face the reality that we’re running out of oil. I would like to try one of those new hydrogen fuel cell cars someday. I understand they can really move.”
Toby glanced at Rawlings who was just opening his eyes, but had obviously kept up with the conversation. “Speaking of running out of oil, when are you going to do the responsible thing and get rid of that fuel-guzzling car of yours?” Trey asked his partner.
“My Jag? Get rid of it? How can you even suggest such a thing?” Toby asked as if someone were suggesting that he cut off a finger or a hand. “You’ve seen it. It’s a classic and there aren’t many 20th century gas-powered cars on the road anymore, and very, very few Jaguar 12 cylinder convertibles. It was the first car I bought after I got out of college, and I intend to keep it as long as there are parts- and gasoline- available to keep it running. And besides, I only drive it about 5,000 miles a year. I take the Metro most of the time.”
“At the rate that car goes through parts, it still might not be around very long anyway,” Trey joked as the on-board voice and video communications device suddenly activated. It was Tad calling, and her conversation with Toby and Trey seeking their advice about dealing with Carl Drake occupied them until they pulled into a parking lot adjacent to the Loudon County Administration Building.
Once inside, Toby and Trey located the local sheriff, Hollis Richardson, who took them into a conference room on the second floor. Already waiting were two-dozen law enforcement personnel from Leesburg and nearby jurisdictions. Most were seated around a long table upon which were spread a large selection of sandwiches and some bottled soft drinks and water.
“Help yourself to some food if you’re hungry, and then we’ll get to work,” said Richardson, a large man- probably 6’4” tall and 275 pounds. “We’re ready to do whatever we can to catch the SOBs that bombed the church and killed all those people. You just tell us where to go and what to do, and if we need more people, we’ll deputize as many as we need. No terrorists are going to get away with doing what they done.”
Toby glanced around the spacious room and noticed that it bore a remarkable resemblance to the task force conference room- a large rectangular table, leather swivel chairs and a plasma communications smart screen on one of the walls. He picked up a sandwich of ham on wheat with mustard, lettuce and tomato. Trey chose a turkey on wheat with mayo. While they ate, they made small talk with some of the law enforcement personnel from the surrounding area. After a few minutes, Trey began to explain what Desert Dan had reported about the al-Qaida cell operating near the nation’s capital. He then described the general plan of the taskforce to divide the target area into zones that would be thoroughly searched by local law enforcement personnel familiar with the area.
“So just what are we looking for, here?” asked a deputy sheriff named Clyde Anderson from Charles Town, Virginia. “Some Muslims?”
“Probably,” said Trey, “although my partner, Sullivan here, isn’t as certain.”
“That’s probably who we’re looking for,” Toby explained, “but it is also possible that someone else is responsible…or that al-Qaida has trained local terrorists who might blend-in with the local environment better- like the ones in France a few years ago. The truth is, we don’t have a whole lot to go on, but we do know that we have to start someplace, and this is the best lead we have.”
For the next two hours, Trey, Toby and the local officials munched on sandwiches, chips and cookies and discussed how best to search the surrounding area for evidence that might lead to the terrorist cell. They were not making very much progress when Sheriff Richardson returned from taking a phone call in his office.
“I just got off the phone with my pastor, Reverend Duncan, and he gave me a great idea,” the sheriff explained. “Apparently a lot of the ministers in the area got together this morning to discuss the terrorism threat and decide what they could do to help their congregations deal with the fear and uncertainty that terrorism causes. And what they decided was to designate next Sunday as a special day of prayer for an end to terrorism. But they also plan to make it a day for their members to fight the fear that comes from terrorism by getting actively involved in helping prevent future attacks. That’s why the reverend called me- to get some ideas as to what they might do to get the people involved. He thought for example that I could provide them with some literature they could hand out to their neighbors and friends that describes how to be more observant of potential terrorist activities.”
The imposing-looking sheriff paused to take a sip of his diet soft drink and then continued. “Well, all that got me thinking that we could not only provide the congregations with literature, but we could also organize their canvassing so that they cover all of our search area and report back anything that looks suspicious to them. We could even have some little ceremonies and deputize them for the day.”
Deputize church congregations? Toby knew that he had heard the sheriff correctly, but it sounded more like dialogue from an old western movie rather than a serious suggestion for fighting 21st century terrorism.
“I’m not sure I follow you, sheriff,” Sullivan said. “You can’t mean that you want local pastors to encourage their members to participate in some kind of manhunt for the terrorists, do you? I really don’t think it would be such a good idea to make this some kind of religious-sanctioned activity.”
The sheriff looked at Toby as if he had squirrels coming out of his ears.
“Well, I don’t see what the problem is there, Sullivan. The pastors want something positive for their members to do to help them overcome their fears of terrorism. What’s wrong with that?”
Before Toby could answer, Trey responded, “I think it is a terrific idea, sheriff. People want to be involved in homeland security, and what better way to get them involved. And besides, there is no other way I can think of to cover so much territory as quickly or thoroughly. Let’s get Associate Director Drake on the video phone to see what he thinks.”
With a quick voice command, Trey activated the phone and large video screen. Seconds later Margaret Peabody’s image appeared.
“Margaret, it’s so good to see you,” said Trey. “Thank the Lord, again, that you weren’t hurt yesterday.”
“Yes,” Margaret replied. “I am truly blessed.”
“Is it possible to put Director Drake on the line?” asked Rawlings. “We have something important to ask him.”
“Certainly. I’ll tell him.”
In just a few seconds, Drake joined their conversation on the giant screen, and Trey explained the plan. The deputy director was uncharacteristically enthusiastic.
“It’s a fantastic idea,” he said. “In fact, I think we should use the same plan throughout the entire search area, not just in your sector. We need to get all of the church congregations involved if we can. Anything suspicious should be reported back to local law enforcement personnel. If the terrorists are out there, I have no doubt that they will be found.”
“Onward Christian soldiers,” Sullivan thought to himself, prompting him to urge caution to the local officials.
“If we’re letting private citizens get involved in this kind of activity, I think we need to make sure that they know that Muslims and terrorists are not synonymous,” Toby reminded his law enforcement colleagues. “It is very important that all of the people who participate in this canvass or search, whatever we’re calling it, understand that they are only to report suspicious people to you and let you follow-up. We don’t want people turning into a bunch of Christian vigilantes.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Agent Sullivan,” Drake said. “These law enforcement people know what they are doing, and I believe that the idea to get people from the churches involved was divinely inspired. In fact, I think we need to stop right now and thank the Lord and ask him once more for his guidance.”
And then Drake asked all of those assembled in the room to bow their heads.
“Dear Lord, we thank you for this great country where we are free to worship you and thank you for the many blessings you have bestowed upon us. We know, oh Lord, that we have done something to displease you and that is why our nation is being punished. Help us to turn our hearts over to you and help us to turn away from all that is wicked and sinful in our world. And finally, Lord, we just thank you for your help and guidance in finding the instruments of Satan who seek to destroy our great country. All of this, we ask in your name. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone in the room- except Sullivan- answered. He was still trying to recover from the idea of deputizing Christians and from Drake’s description of “instruments of Satan.”