Echoes

 Friday, Oct. 16, 2009, 10:34 AM

“Suta! My office!” Tabitha winced as her head jerked up from her computer terminal when SAIC Martin barked at her from his office door on the other side of the bullpen. Her neck was heavily bandaged, stiff and sore from the bite wounds she'd suffered Wednesday night, and the stitches the ER doc had applied. She tried to hide her pain, and rose to cross to her boss's office. None of the other agents overtly watched her cross the room, but she was the center of attention none the less. Martin was closing the blinds on the glass walls of his office as she approached – never a good sign. Tabitha closed the door behind her and stood before her boss’s desk.

“I just got a call from Deputy Director Jones,” Martin said, glaring at her. “Do you know who Jones is?” Tabitha shook her head. “He’s Executive Assistant Director of the Science and Technology Branch.” Oh shit. “Seems he sent one of his people up to New Jersey to check out those numbers the killer left at the River Vale Massacre. When she got there, they told her somebody from STB had already been there, as part of your team, an Agent Sid Smith. Except there is no Sid Smith in STB, or anywhere else in the Bureau. And when she tried to look at the photographic evidence, every single photo with the numbers in it had been corrupted. The Deputy Director did some checking, and it turns out the other members of your ‘team’ aren’t actually in the Bureau, either.”

By this time, Martin’s face was almost purple from suppressed rage. “I don’t care what kind of family connections you’ve got, Suta, but the Bureau is responsible for enforcing the law. And the law says the CIA cannot conduct operations on US soil. If your buddies at Langley ever try to get you to pull this kind of shit again, you’d better believe it will be your last day working for the FBI. If I had my way, today would be that day, but I’ve been told you’re too high profile at the moment, what with your face being all over the TV news. But you’re under the microscope, Suta, and I intend to ensure that your career at the FBI is both short and boring.”

Tabitha's head was spinning. On the one hand, she was relieved not to have been fired on the spot. But Agent Martin's reference to "family connections" had floored her. "Um ... I'm not sure what you mean, sir. I don't have any family connections with the Agency."

”Don't give me that shit, Suta!" Martin snarled. "Deputy Director Jones is an old Cold Warrior – he cut his teeth in Counterintelligence during the Reagan years. He said to me ‘As soon as I saw this shit, I knew it had the CIA’s stink all over it. And when I saw the name ‘Suta’, I knew it – that apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

 Friday, Oct. 16, 2009, 5:12 PM

Tabitha was just getting ready to descend into the subway after work when her phone rang: Unknown Caller. She answered with a knot in her stomach. “Hello Agent Suta.” It was a man’s voice, but oddly metallic sounding – she suspected the call was being scrambled. “Or should I say, Agent Teresa? This is Agent Charlie, and I think it’s time you and I had a chat. There’s a diner called Reina’s Place on the north side of Scranton. Be there tomorrow at 11:15 AM. Please come alone or you’ll be very disappointed.” The call ended.

Tabitha stared at her phone. Who the hell was Agent Charlie? Their team's contacts were all supposed to be through J-cell - someone from C-cell had to be pretty high up in the hierarchy. If he even was who he said he was. She debated what to do through the subway ride home. As soon as she was safe in her apartment, she dialed Oliver's cellphone. "How'd you like to take a little road trip to Scranton tomorrow?"

 Saturday, Oct. 17, 2009 10:44 AM

The taxi dropped Tabitha off in front of a rundown strip mall, then continued half a block farther before pulling into a parking lot across the street. Oliver climbed out of the cab, gave Tabitha a slight nod, then went into a takeout place where he could keep an eye on things. Tabitha took a deep breath and turned to enter the diner. Reina’s Place occupied the end unit of the strip mall, next door to a bait and tackle shop. Inside, the smell of fresh coffee masked the odor of bait from outside. She sat down in a booth at the far end of the room and ordered coffee. At precisely 11:15, the door opened, the bell above it jingling. A tall man lumbered in; he was at least 6’ 5”, and probably close to 300 lbs of muscle turning to fat. He wore a John Deere cap, black T-shirt under a camo fatigue jacket, jeans, and work boots. He had a thick white beard and a nasty scar that ran down one side of his heavily wrinkled face. He walked with a slight stoop as he made his way across the diner and slid into the seat opposite Tabitha. “Coffee, please,” he called to the waitress. He examined the menu in silence until the waitress delivered the coffee. “Thanks, honey,” he said. “No lunch for us today – we just want to catch up.”

He took a sip of coffee and examined Tabitha over the rim of the cup. “I'm glad you left your partner across the street - smart to have backup, but what I have to say is for your ears only. I’m sure you have some questions. I won’t be able to answer some of them. Some of the things I do tell you will be the truth, but others will be lies. I tell you this because I want us to be able to trust each other. If you find out later that some things I said aren’t true, I want you to know I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I’m lying to you openly, to protect you. Just as your father would if he were sitting right where I am now.”

Tabitha's heart was pounding at the mention of her father. "Did you know him?"

Agent Charlie nodded. “Yes, I did. Your father started helping Delta Green as a Friendly when he was still in Romania. During the War, the Nazis tried to harness things they shouldn’t – they had a whole branch of the SS called the Karotechia devoted to unnatural research, and Delta Green came of age fighting to stop them. After the war, many of the surviving Karotechia researchers and their materials scattered to the four winds; some were snatched up by the Soviets, others went into hiding. Your father was already a CIA asset in Ceaușescu’s Romania in the 70s, and he stumbled onto a Karotechia sorcerer collaborating with the Romanian government. After that, we tapped him to help track down other leads in Eastern Europe.

“When he defected to the US, he kept working for the CIA as an analyst and translator, helping run agents in Eastern Europe, but Delta Green brought him in as Agent Foster. That’s all I’m going to tell you about his time in Delta Green.”

Tabitha was gripping her coffee mug with both hands to keep them from trembling. "Is my father still alive?" she asked softly.

Agent Charlie looked directly into her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. Do you remember anything of your abduction?”

"Not much. Images mostly - trees, wind, rain. I could believe it was all just a dream if my mother and gramama hadn't told me it was real."

“In September of 1990 – Labor Day weekend – your father took your family on a camping trip in upstate New York, a place called Indian Lake. You weren’t out in the wilderness – it was a state park campground full of other families there for the holiday weekend. On Saturday afternoon, you vanished. Your dad had gone fishing at the lake, and you and your mother were out looking for wild huckleberries. One minute you were there, and the next you were gone. The other campers started an informal search, and then the park rangers were called in. But there was no trace of you.

“Your father immediately contacted A-cell. He was convinced this was no simple lost child. Most people would have assumed he was overreacting, but Agent Alphonse trusted his judgement. He assigned three teams to quietly join the search, looking for things the rangers wouldn’t. But they had no better luck. Your father became increasingly desperate.

“Ten days later, there was a terrible thunderstorm. At 9:30 PM that night, in the middle of the storm, you were found walking down Highway 28 in the town of Holcombville, some twenty miles from where you’d disappeared. You were soaking wet, naked and disoriented, and claimed to have no memory of what had happened to you – your last memory was of picking huckleberries with your mother.

“Your father was never seen again.”

Agent Charlie finished his coffee, and waved the waitress over for a refill. When she left, he continued. “I should tell you that after your father disappeared, there were a number of people who thought you might be a threat. That you might be compromised. That you should be dealt with. Some of those people probably still feel that way, although there aren't many of us left from those days. But Agent Alphonse thought otherwise. If you ever meet him, you should probably say ‘thanks’.”

Tabitha looked hard into Agent Charlie's eyes - she needed to gauge his reaction to her next question. "And you've never had reason to suspect my father was still alive?"

Agent Charlie's eyes narrowed. "In this business, you learn never to assume anything. But no, we've never had any hint that your father was alive. Frankly, I've always assumed he found some way to sacrifice himself to save you."

Tabitha hesitated. She needed to know how far she could trust this man. He returned her gaze, and she made her decision. "What if I told you I'd found a photo of my father, taken three years after he disappeared?"

Agent Charlie frowned. “That’s concerning. Where did you find this? Do you have a copy?” Tabitha took out her phone, brought up the picture she'd taken of the photo, and slid it across the table. Agent Charlie grew very still as he looked down at it. "Our team was sent to clean up after a dead Agent," Tabitha explained, "a man named Clyde Baughman. We found this in a footlocker in a cabin up north, in a file labeled OPERATION BACKDOOR."

Agent Charlie nodded slowly. “Baughman was Agent Fuller – he was one of the F-cell agents who trained your father when he joined Delta Green. At the point your father came in, Fuller was already mostly out of the game, just helping us as a Friendly inside the IRS. OPERATION BACKDOOR was an op that was aimed at getting leverage on a group called The Fate. The man in the car?” He tapped the photo. “That’s Stephen Alzis, the leader of The Fate. Baughman must have recognized your father in this photo when he was helping us sort through The Fate’s financial dealings. But I don’t know why he didn’t report it.”

"Would Stephen Alzis know where my father is?"

Agent Charlie gave a short snort. “Stephen Alzis knows a lot of things, but he's not going to tell us any of them. Agent Cyrus and I assassinated Alzis in April of ‘98 – and again in May, and then in July, and September, and October. That got old, and Agent Alphonse ended up striking a truce of sorts – we stopped trying to kill Alzis, and he stopped killing our people in retaliation. After 9/11, Alzis seemed to lose interest in The Fate – he dropped out of sight, and the rest of the group’s leadership started battling each other to take over. We kind of helped them along, and by 2003 the group was no longer a factor. Alzis sent Agent Cyrus a postcard from China that said, ‘Thank you for putting away my toys.’ That’s the last we’ve heard from him.” He looked up at Tabitha, eyes sad. "Seeing this," he tapped the photo, "my fear is that your father turned to Alzis for help in getting you back. If that's the case, then God help him."

Agent Charlie checked his watch. “I need to be on my way – I’ve been in the open too long already. Don’t worry too much about your job, kid – the Program will cover for you as much as they can. But don’t trust them too far. Trust yourself, and only those who prove themselves as being on your side.” He slid out of the booth, and made his way heavily to the door, leaving Tabitha to pay the bill.