“What happens?” she snorted. “What happens is we busted ’em!”
“I know, Mavis. But let’s go down the road a little ways. If these slugs were recruiting for terrorist fighters in Somalia, how much does it take for them to turn these kids loose in the U.S?” Conway had a hoarse, smoker’s voice that gave him a very Karl Malden tone. “And what about the Al-Qaeda ties. Is this a way for them to attack us?”
No one spoke for a long moment. Finally, Mavis said, “Yeah… guess you’re right. It’s the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.”
Conway was used to spending more time behind a desk and reading histories of the Second World War, than running the streets and chasing bad guys. He looked forward to his opportunity to retire at full pension in two years.
“One of these kids who disappeared blew himself up with a bomb in Somalia,” Conway let his words hang in the air above the table. “But I got more headaches than that,” he moaned. “None of you have to deal with all the agency calls I get.”
Paul had mixed feelings toward the agent in charge. Although Conway had reluctantly taken Paul into the Minneapolis office after the mess Paul made in Milwaukee, Conway had come to like him. The phone call from the teacher a few years ago worked as well as Paul hoped it would. It had opened the case of the Somali recruiters and given Paul a chance to be assigned to the investigation, which he helped solve.
But Paul knew Conway, near the end of his career, lacked the energy to fight anymore. He seemed out of touch, telling stories of his past that weren’t exactly true. He spoke “fight,” but he really meant “don’t rock the boat.” Paul suspected they had only uncovered the tip of an iceberg. From the outside, the FBI looked in control of everything. From the inside, Paul knew they scrambled, dependent on the Somali informants to help them and telephone intercepts.
He warned Conway of his concerns, but the old guy didn’t have the energy to probe deeper.
“So, I’m getting calls from everyone even remotely tied to Homeland Security. You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never heard of half these agencies! No wonder the government’s running in the red. Who’s paying for all these people?” He leaned back with a deep laugh.
“What’s going on?” Paul asked.
Conway looked down at his assistant again. She paged through more papers, giving him one with a long hand-written list on it. He shifted his bulk from one leg to the other. “Okay, here goes.” He glanced up over the tops of his glasses. “You ain’t gonna believe this.” Looked down again and read. “Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Coast Guard, Federal Protection Services, the Army Medical Research Institute, TRIPwire, Customs and Border Protection, Cyber Protection … and the frickin’ list goes on. I got a congresswoman in Mississippi asking me if we got a fence on the northern border with Canada!”
Laughter lapped around the table like waves on a lake shore.
“She probably doesn’t even know where Canada is,” Fancher said.
“And you all know how the agents at Immigration Customs and Enforcement have screwed us in the past,” Conway shouted. “Early on in the case, we both had informants covering the same suspect. I argued with them to butt out, that their interference could blow the suspect. They made a premature takedown that almost blew this whole case.” He looked up at the ceiling.
“Turf wars,” said Fancher. “They want the brass ring as much as we do.”
“ICE thinks they’ve got the resources, but they don’t,” Conway said. He glared at the group. “I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to tell the Director he’s lost the case to some dumb-ass border agents. You know what he’ll do to me? So, no leaks to them, period.” He thumped the table with a thick fist.
Mavis said, “What do you want to do, Bill?”
He screwed-up his face. Sighed. “Dammit, I wish I could smoke in
“I know, Mavis. But let’s go down the road a little ways. If these slugs were recruiting for terrorist fighters in Somalia, how much does it take for them to turn these kids loose in the U.S?” Conway had a hoarse, smoker’s voice that gave him a very Karl Malden tone. “And what about the Al-Qaeda ties. Is this a way for them to attack us?”
No one spoke for a long moment. Finally, Mavis said, “Yeah… guess you’re right. It’s the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.”
Conway was used to spending more time behind a desk and reading histories of the Second World War, than running the streets and chasing bad guys. He looked forward to his opportunity to retire at full pension in two years.
“One of these kids who disappeared blew himself up with a bomb in Somalia,” Conway let his words hang in the air above the table. “But I got more headaches than that,” he moaned. “None of you have to deal with all the agency calls I get.”
Paul had mixed feelings toward the agent in charge. Although Conway had reluctantly taken Paul into the Minneapolis office after the mess Paul made in Milwaukee, Conway had come to like him. The phone call from the teacher a few years ago worked as well as Paul hoped it would. It had opened the case of the Somali recruiters and given Paul a chance to be assigned to the investigation, which he helped solve.
But Paul knew Conway, near the end of his career, lacked the energy to fight anymore. He seemed out of touch, telling stories of his past that weren’t exactly true. He spoke “fight,” but he really meant “don’t rock the boat.” Paul suspected they had only uncovered the tip of an iceberg. From the outside, the FBI looked in control of everything. From the inside, Paul knew they scrambled, dependent on the Somali informants to help them and telephone intercepts.
He warned Conway of his concerns, but the old guy didn’t have the energy to probe deeper.
“So, I’m getting calls from everyone even remotely tied to Homeland Security. You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never heard of half these agencies! No wonder the government’s running in the red. Who’s paying for all these people?” He leaned back with a deep laugh.
“What’s going on?” Paul asked.
Conway looked down at his assistant again. She paged through more papers, giving him one with a long hand-written list on it. He shifted his bulk from one leg to the other. “Okay, here goes.” He glanced up over the tops of his glasses. “You ain’t gonna believe this.” Looked down again and read. “Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Coast Guard, Federal Protection Services, the Army Medical Research Institute, TRIPwire, Customs and Border Protection, Cyber Protection … and the frickin’ list goes on. I got a congresswoman in Mississippi asking me if we got a fence on the northern border with Canada!”
Laughter lapped around the table like waves on a lake shore.
“She probably doesn’t even know where Canada is,” Fancher said.
“And you all know how the agents at Immigration Customs and Enforcement have screwed us in the past,” Conway shouted. “Early on in the case, we both had informants covering the same suspect. I argued with them to butt out, that their interference could blow the suspect. They made a premature takedown that almost blew this whole case.” He looked up at the ceiling.
“Turf wars,” said Fancher. “They want the brass ring as much as we do.”
“ICE thinks they’ve got the resources, but they don’t,” Conway said. He glared at the group. “I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to tell the Director he’s lost the case to some dumb-ass border agents. You know what he’ll do to me? So, no leaks to them, period.” He thumped the table with a thick fist.
Mavis said, “What do you want to do, Bill?”
He screwed-up his face. Sighed. “Dammit, I wish I could smoke in
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