Anybody Know This Guy?

144.

As convincingly as he opened the patriotic can of worms, he caps it shut and returns to his stately chair. He calmly gives Julie the floor. 

With impressive flow and impeccable timing she rises to distribute handouts to each of us as she echoes TOM’s opening cry of urgency. 

“Here is what we know about the Senatorial coup currently in operation. The protection of sources of this sensitive intel is paramount, as we find ourselves between the rock of our charter’s mission statement and the hard place of patriotic duty. We believe that the right thing in this delicate paradox is to follow the rules of engagement outlined by law, and not by party loyalty or lobby enrichments. We have a code and we will uphold its minutiae and nuance to the letter.” She pauses to catch her breath and permit the scope of her monologue to linger a second longer. 

It is during this pause that I have time to inhale deeply and add a private and personal amendment to her cautionary rhetoric. By the exhale I have included the parenthetical rider that includes ‘doing whatever it takes’. 

Unsurprisingly she shoots me the ‘I know what you’re thinking look’, and continues.

“That is battle number one on the forefront. Battle number two, on our flank, is the interesting connection between the Senator and MBI. The fact-sheet explains in detail the history behind this unholy alliance and provides a diagram of their hierarchy. You will notice that in each case, the political and the criminal, we have vetted eyes and ears in their war rooms. We believe,” she formally nods to TOM as validation of the consensus plurality, “that with a concentrated intelligence effort we can orchestrate our own coup d’ état, hopefully without the traditionally associated violence and bloodshed.”

My mind is a Formula One race car barely holding traction at speed. ‘Traditional violence and bloodshed? The only thing separating us from rogue mercenaries for hire is our dedication to a code of honor and the backing of the cumbersome machinery of the government, the same entity we are now planning on taking down, through what? Non-violent negotiation?’ My car slams into a retaining wall and bursts into flames. 

She red-dots my eye with a ‘please allow me to finish and then you can update us’ laser. Long ago I quit wondering if she could truly read my mind but this officially removes all remaining doubt. 

“The outline of the mission is included on the third page, please take five minutes to memorize it and return the brief copies to me. The computer files have been deleted and hard drive wiped clean, after our B&E we have significantly increased internal security. In five minutes we will have a Q&A and then dismiss.” 

I stand to stretch and complete the assignment, avoiding any overt physical reactions to the juicy memorandum. I return to the first page and re-scan the entire document just as time expires in regulation. 

Julie collects the paperwork and ceremoniously shreds the copies. TOM oversees the formality then asks for individual updates as promised. 

“Harlan?” He begins. 

Harlan is sharp. A Princeton grad we stole from the State Department several years ago. He is a constitutional lawyer savvy in the distinction between the letter of the law and its pragmatic political reality. He is also a talented pianist, an outstanding hoops point-guard and a beacon of light in the black fashion community. I have often wondered how he keeps his considerable talent and passions independent and segregated. Above all, he is an integral part of our team, personable and professional. 

He provides us with a verbal update on his research into MBI and the financial associations with the Senator. Most interestingly from my perspective are the layers of business, some shady others completely above-board, attributed to each. Like any good crime syndicate, all roads lead to nowhere, the dreaded up-stream dead-end. It is a robust indictment.

TOM looks to me and nods. 

“I am very confident that the thug who recorded our meeting, trashed our office and stole the packets works for Hartaugh.” I disclose. 

Simultaneously surprised and nonplussed, Julie and TOM ask the obvious next question in tandem, “How do you know this?”

I pull the tiny spy cam from my jacket pocket and place it on TOM's desk as if it was an improvised explosive device. Cognizant that this could all end in flames I ask for the use of one of TOM's Macs and USB the file into the image capture utility. 

In amazingly vivid resolution we see Bartowsky and an unidentified suit sitting at Philz Coffee Shop. 

“Anybody know this guy?”