Distant memory, p.27
Distant Memory, page 27
In a rapid move that was almost impossible to see, Massey reached forward with his free hand and grabbed Lisa by the hair. She dropped the child to the ground as he pulled her close to him. She felt the gun press into her cheekbone. A sharp stab of pain ran through her head and neck as he pressed the gun home. Lisa involuntarily closed her eyes and then forced them open again. She saw the little girl scamper - toward the crowd where a nurse grabbed her, picked her up, and disappeared into the mass of patients. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me, Ms. Keller,” Massey spat. “Nothing has changed between us. You still die tonight.”
I wasn’t talking to you, she thought silently as he spun her around, placing his thick forearm around her throat. The gun was now mashed into her temple. The pain was nauseating.
“Giving your life for another might be noble, Ms. Keller, but it was also stupid. I’m impressed, but unmoved.”
“Someone did it for me a long time ago.”
“Let’s not do anything stupid,” Hobbs called out. “We can talk this over.”
“Right,” Massey spat out. “And while we talk, SWAT marksmen are planning on using my head for target practice.”
“Release her and no one will hurt you,” Hobbs said with authority.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Massey said. “I’m not afraid of being hurt.” Then to Lisa he said in a venomous whisper, “Let’s go.” He began to walk backward, keeping Lisa pressed against his body and interposed between him and the police.
More sirens, more lights.
Lisa offered no resistance; she wanted to be as far from the bystanders as possible. Step followed backward step. Suddenly the ground changed elevation, and Lisa stumbled slightly. They had stepped off the curb and onto the pavement of the front parking lot. Hobbs and Tanner followed, keeping the same distance between themselves and Massey. Hobbs was staring deep into Lisa’s eyes, as if trying to communicate with her.
She wondered how Massey was going to get into a car with her in front of him. At some point, he would have to release her or at least allow them to separate enough to open the car door.
An idea struck Lisa. It was risky, but no more so than what she faced if her captor found a way to escape with her as his hostage. He was smart enough to do it, so she had to assume that he had a plan for just such a contingency as this.
It was time to act.
As they continued moving backward through the parking lot, Lisa fixed her attention on Hobbs, staring into his eyes just as he had been doing to her. With only the slightest of motions she pointed at her chest with her right index finger, then pointed down to the ground. She repeated the sign several times. Hobbs nodded slightly. The concern on his face intensified. She watched his lips move and assumed that he had whispered something to Tanner. Tanner cut a quick look at Hobbs and then returned his gaze to Lisa and Massey. His face remained unchanged, as if it had been chiseled in stone, but he seemed to tense slightly.
Lisa swallowed hard. Then, using the same hand, held three fingers against her chest. She closed her eyes and folded one finger under leaving only two extended. She did the same with her middle finger as she continued the silent countdown.
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears.
“Okay,” Massey said. “This is how we’re going to do this. You’re going to open the door to the truck and—”
Lisa pulled the last finger in and went limp. She felt herself drop, and the gun barrel scraped along her head. Massey’s arm was still around her, but the unexpected dead weight of her body pulled it down. Lisa’s eyes were clamped shut as she waited for a bullet to enter her brain.
There was a popping and banging that sounded to her like cannons being fired. Lisa hit the pavement, and as she did, she curled into a ball, covering her head with her hands.
The shooting stopped, but Lisa remained still. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to open her eyes and see what carnage was there.
“Lisa? Lisa!” The voice was familiar.
There were more sirens, and she could hear footsteps around her.
“Come on, Lisa,” Hobbs was saying. “Let’s get you out of here.” He reached down and helped her to her feet.
Lisa opened her eyes. She was facing the hospital. The crowd was staring at her, many with their hands to their mouths. She started to turn, but Hobbs restrained her. “No need to look back,” he said. “Massey’s dead. He’ll never bother you again.”
Hobbs walked her back toward the others, but she veered off. “Nick. I need to check on Nick.”
He was still on the ground, unmoving. Two people, a man and a woman, each wearing a doctor’s smock, were crouched over him. Fearing the worst, afraid that he might have died while she was away, Lisa felt a strong sense of remorse. She had been rough on him earlier, challenging everything he’d said, doubting every explanation, calling into question every statement. He was a man of mystery, but he had once again thrust himself into danger to save her life.
One of the doctors looked up. He smiled. “He’s conscious now. There’s a deep scalp wound, but that’s all. The bullet grazed his skull. He’s going to be all right.” Nick groaned and raised a hand to his head. “Lie still, sir,” the doctor said. “We’ll have you in an ambulance and on your way to a hospital in Ventura.”
“I’m going with him,” Lisa said as she knelt by his side. “I owe you so much. Thank you.”
“Who … who are you?” Nick said and then smiled a moment later. “Just kidding.” He laughed and then groaned loudly.
“What? I should hurt you for that.”
He chuckled. “Please don’t. I don’t think I have any parts left that haven’t been damaged.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Tell me that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” Lisa said. A tear ran down her face.
CHAPTER 24
Thursday, three weeks later, 1:48 P.M.
That’s quite a story, Ms. Keller,” Senator Kilgallen said. “It’s almost too hard to believe.”
“Believe me, Senator, it is even harder to forget,” Lisa replied. Her tone was professional, diplomatic, and no-nonsense.
“This is a grave matter that you bring us, Ms. Keller. It not only involves at least one of our fellow senators, but also one of the richest and most influential men in the world.” Kilgallen leaned back in his leather chair and chewed on the end of his pen. There were six other senators with him in the private hearing, each a high-ranking member of the Senate, and each was sworn to secrecy. Lisa had been answering questions for two hours, and she knew that Nick had gone through the same thing. Next, the assistant director of NSA would enter the wood-paneled conference room to answer questions.
“How long did you work undercover at Moyer Communications?”
“Six months, Senator. I was hired as a security specialist charged with upgrading building security.”
“And it was in that capacity that you learned of Mr. Moyer’s … dealings?
The senator can’t bring himself to say it, she thought. She could not blame him. “Yes sir.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I must admit, I find this all very hard to comprehend.”
“And rightly so,” Lisa said. “I’m an expert in the field, and I have trouble believing it myself. But it is important that we start seeing and believing these things. Our country faces several crucial decisions in the future about these matters, and I think it is best that those charged with creating and maintaining the laws of this land be as fully informed as possible.”
“Your contentions seem so outlandish,” the senator rebutted.
“With all due respect, sir, everything in my report, as well as - everything I’ve said in testimony, is truth deeply rooted in fact.”
“But the satellite, Ms. Keller, what device could do that?”
Lisa knew that most of the senators on the panel would balk at that revelation, but she was surprised at Kilgallen’s disbelief. He sat on several key committees that dealt with military intelligence and operation. She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Most of her injuries had healed in the intervening weeks between the culmination of events in Ojai and her appearance before the Senate panel, but her ribs were still tender and sitting for extended periods was uncomfortable. “Senator Kilgallen,” Lisa began, “technology has been a boon to society. In the last twenty-five years we have seen our technological prowess grow at an astounding rate. The general populace, the people we serve, are aware of only a small measure of it. You, as well as many of your colleagues, are more aware of that than most, but even you are left in the dark about many matters.
“It has always been assumed that the military leads the way in the creation of new intelligence operations and devices—”
“And the intelligence community,” Kilgallen interjected.
“Agreed,” Lisa responded quickly. “But such is not the case. Many, indeed most, of the significant advances in technology have come out of the private sector—a sector, I might add, which is much harder to police. Megacompanies can be as secretive as any foreign government. They can also be as self-protective. This is understandable, and mega-corporations have the right to privacy, as do individuals. But at times the rights of the individual come in conflict with the rights of the corporation.”
“You’re saying that Moyer Communications crossed the line.”
“I am indeed. And there are other such companies that have done the same.”
“What are the specifics, Ms. Keller?” the senator asked. “What did Moyer Communications do that drew the keen interest of the NSA?”
“As you and your distinguished colleagues may know, Moyer Communications designed and built many of the electronic devices used by the military. Over the years, they have greatly enhanced radio communications between fighter aircraft and ground troops. But their real claim to fame, at least with the military and intelligence communities, is the network of spy satellites they have designed. Such satellites were used over Iraq during the Gulf War and the subsequent skirmishes that followed, as well as over Kosovo.
“For years,” Lisa continued, “those satellites have intercepted messages, tracked electronics, and photographed military installations. Moyer Communications has advanced the science of digital optics by a decade, and their satellites are now sophisticated enough to read a sales flyer left on the windshield of a car.”
“They have provided a great service to our country and spared the lives of many of our young soldiers.”
“Yes sir, that is true, but things have changed.”
“How so?” the senator asked.
Lisa shifted in her seat again. “In 1949 George Orwell wrote 1984, a book about totalitarian control. Ever since, it has been assumed that the greatest danger to individual privacy was from the government. He called it Big Brother, but we now know that we have less to fear from the government than we do from private industry, from Little Brother—except Little Brother isn’t so little.”
“And this leads us where?”
“Panopticon.”
“Panopticon? I’m not familiar with the term.”
“It’s from two Greek words that mean to see all. Gregory Moyer and his company have designed a spy satellite that can track individuals or groups.”
“Individuals or groups? You mean a single individual?”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “The idea was sold to the military, which funded the research and development through its black-ops budgets. With this device and others like it, an individual could be tracked wherever he went in the world.”
“That’s unbelievable,” the senator countered. “How could such a device work?”
“The electronics is beyond me, sir, but this much I know. In phase one of the project, a satellite was placed into orbit over the United States. This was the test vehicle. The optics are superior to anything that has preceded it. In principle, subsequent satellites would be placed in strategic orbit around the globe, forming a network of surveillance. Ideally it was to be used to track leaders of unfriendly nations, activity at foreign military bases, supply movements, and even to find downed airmen.”
“All noble goals.”
“Left at that, yes. But Moyer had other plans. With such a device, information could be gathered on Americans without their knowledge. Already several states have used photographs from spy satellites to hunt for property improvements that may have been made without county permits. Other government agencies have used such photographs to catch farmers who water their fields without irrigation permits or to monitor tree cutting by lumber companies. On the surface, these are not necessarily bad, and society as a whole benefits, but what could happen if a private corporation begins gathering information on individuals that might be an invasion of personal privacy?
“What if,” Lisa added, “a corporation paid Moyer Communications to spy on its competition, giving it an unfair advantage? The possibilities are enormous and frightening.”
“Those were the reasons that caused NSA to send in an undercover agent?”
“Only partly, Senator. We began to suspect that Moyer might sell some of his information beyond the borders of the United States. While there are laws on the books that control the sale of technology to foreign countries, it would be difficult to stop the selling of information. Not long ago, such information had to be passed by hand or through encrypted messages. Today all someone like Moyer has to do is place a receiver in the hands of a client and let him or her receive whatever information is available. Satellite receivers are relatively easy to build. Some can be purchased over the Internet. All that needs to be changed is the frequency it receives. A high school student could do that. Frankly, that part of the chain is old technology. Moyer would need to provide the codes to unscramble the satellite’s signal. That could be done with a phone call or over a sheltered site on the Internet.”
“And your investigation found all this to be true?”
“And much more. It was Gregory Moyer’s plan to sell, not information about our military bases and research, but his services to other countries. Not all countries in the world experience the freedom we do. We are blessed; some nations seem to be cursed. With Moyer’s devices one could track undesirable groups. Imagine a country bent on ethnic cleansing, such as Rwanda or Yugoslavia or even China. How much more powerful and effective would a despot be if he knew where his enemies gathered, when they moved, and what their resources were? That is just the beginning of the nightmare. For me, the most chilling revelation was an agreement I discovered between Moyer and several Third World countries. It was an agreement for which he was receiving a great deal of advance money.”
“And just what did they want from Moyer Communications?”
Lisa paused. The thought chilled her more than anything that had ever entered her mind. After swallowing hard she said: “Senator, I am a person of faith. By that, I mean I am a Christian. My faith is central to my life. As a Christian in the United States, I live in a society that allows me to worship whenever I want and without interference. Such is not the case for Christians in many countries. Countries like the Sudan, China, Burma, Pakistan, North Korea, Egypt, and many others have made it a goal to drive Christianity from their land. Many horrible acts often sanctioned by the government have taken place. What I discovered was this: Greg Moyer had made deals to locate the meeting places and hiding places of Christians in some of these countries. His new MC2-SDS satellite would make it impossible for these people to evade detection by those who wish to seek them out and slaughter them.”
“Do you really believe that Moyer is that evil?”
“I do. He is not the first; he will not be the last. His kind has a lineage that extends back through the centuries. He cared nothing for how the information was gathered or would be used, just as long as it was lucrative.”
“Do you know where Greg Moyer is now?” the senator asked.
“No,” Lisa said sadly. “The news media carried the events that culminated in the shooting at the hospital in Ojai. We assume that Moyer saw a report and realized that his empire was about to be brought down. We think he fled the country, but we can’t be sure.”
“Is there any hope of finding him?”
“He is a clever man with tremendous resources. I’m sure the search will go on, but he could be anywhere in the world.”
“At least his plot was foiled.”
“Maybe,” Lisa said softly.
“Maybe?”
Lisa took a moment to look each of the seven senators in the eye. “The satellite is still up there, gentlemen, and who knows what contingency plans Moyer had at the ready. It’s not over. I’m afraid it’s not close to being over.”
EPILOGUE
Sunday, noon
The summer sun shone through a crystal blue sky and radiated off the black pavement. The sound of people chatting filled the air. A crowd of 150 had gathered to share in the dedication ceremonies on the grounds of the soon to be Fillmore Community Church. No one was allowed in the building that had so captured Lisa’s attention nearly a month earlier, but that would soon change. Renovation would begin tomorrow.
“It was a nice service,” Nick said. He held a small paper plate piled high with finger foods. “It was a great idea to have an outdoor worship service.”
“Thanks for coming,” Lisa said. “The contractor told me it would take about two months to bring the building up to code and make it safe. We plan to have services in it as soon as possible.”
“We?” Nick asked. He and Lisa were sitting at a folding table that had been situated in the middle of the lot. Seated with them were Bill Hobbs and Jay Tanner.
“I plan to come back for the first service. This place is important to me.”
“That’s a long trip from Washington, D.C.,” Nick said.
“Well, I made it here today.”
“I’m glad you did,” Nick said. “I miss you.”
