CHAPTER EIGHT
It took all of twenty minutes before they went to bed, to figure out who the father was of the loud mouth with the broken arm. Before they went to lay their heads down, they sent the videos and photos and even divulged where they were staying.
All four of the men were shocked to see the kid with the broken arm and a man in a suit standing in the lobby the next morning. The young man’s head was down and when he saw them step from the elevator, he gave his father a nod.
“You sent me the video of what went down last night?” he said quietly.
“That’s right and you are Eric Griner of Abbott, Griner, and Young,” said AJ.
“That’s me. I’m not here to make any trouble or press any charges. My son will be entering a rehab program,” he started.
“Dad, I don’t need…”
“You say one more fucking word and I’ll break your other arm,” he growled. “It doesn’t excuse his behavior but he’s been abusing pain killers that he was given after the accident that killed his mother a year ago. We were divorced, so I didn’t see it initially. Liam was living at school.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said AJ. “But he was trying to attack that young woman.”
“I know,” he nodded. “I saw every sickening detail. I just wanted to thank you and he wanted to apologize.” He nudged his son.
“I-I’m sorry,” said the young man.
“Are you?” asked Wyatt. “You were all set to sue us last night, beat and rape that girl, sic your friends on us. You were lucky. I think we demonstrated that we could have killed you and left you in the dumpster. The next guys won’t be so kind.”
To his credit, the young man paled, his eyes filling with tears and his face paling.
“I hope he gets the help he needs,” said Hiro.
“Well, if he doesn’t, it won’t be for my lack of trying,” said the father clearly having reached his limit and exhausted for his efforts. He stretched out his hand. “Thank you.”
“Well, maybe this will be a good day after all,” smirked Tanner. AJ chuckled.
“From your lips to Mama Irene’s ears.”
After showing their ID’s at the security gate, and answering a dozen questions, the men found a parking spot at the Pentagon close to the visitor’s door. When they entered, they weren’t surprised to see an aide for General Billings waiting for them.
“My name is Sgt. Michael MacGregor. Sirs, right this way,” said the young man.
“Nobody here is a sir,” smirked Wyatt.
“I beg to differ, sir. You are all retired, senior enlisted men or officers. You served your country faithfully for years, providing some of the most elite skills known to man. It’s estimated that just the four of you here,” he said talking as they walked down the long sterile hallway, “saved more than ninety-seven lives. My estimate is much higher than that.”
“Excuse me,” said AJ reaching for the aides arm and pulling him back. “How the fuck do you know all of that? And why do you know all of that?”
“I’m a fan,” he smiled. “I’ve heard stories of what you guys do for years and I’ve followed some of the top-secret briefings. You’re legends. Even the General talks about your escapades, or your parents’, to some of the other leaders.
“Things get cloudy around here. The weather changes all the time depending on who is in season. I like to know who I might be able to call on if I need someone.”
They stared at the young man and gave no expression one way or another. When they continued, they took the elevator down four flights, and then a long walk to another door. Reaching out his hand, AJ shook it, only to discover a piece of paper in his palm.
When he opened it, he nearly passed out.
Meet me @ Tuck’s Bar on W. Washington at 1900 about Anders
The others stared at the small slip of paper and frowned. Tanner opened the door to the conference room and walked inside to see a room surrounded by glass. Admiral Peters and General Billings were seated at one end of the table, several other young men and women beside them.
“Welcome to the Pentagon, gentlemen. Although I suspect this isn’t your first trip.”
No one said anything, still standing, looking through the glass walls at the hive of activity below.
Massive screens covered the entire room, showing what each worker was busy with.
Intercepting attempts at hacking, interfering in communications from drones, and following the trail of e-mails and text messages.
“Please take your seats,” said Admiral Peters.
“I’d rather go out there and speak to your team,” said Hiro. The young people in the room stared at Hiro, then back at the senior leaders.
“You can ask our team here anything you like,” said Admiral Peters.
“Do you have something to hide, Admiral?” asked AJ.
“Don’t fuck with me son. I can just as easily toss your ass out of here. Everything we do here is highly confidential.”
“And you’ll find that our security clearance is higher than Jamie, Arleigh, or Efram’s.”
The faces of the three young people blanched, slowly turning to look at the admiral and general. Their amused grins disappeared, looking at the hands of the four men, then attempting to see if they had any devices on their clothing.
“H-how did you know my name?” asked Jamie.
“That’s classified,” smirked Wyatt.
“Alright. Enough! Enough with the pissing match. We get it. You’ve got high clearance as well. What goes on here isn’t a game and we don’t treat it that way,” said Billings.
“Maybe not, but some of your colleagues in other departments do. They’re literally sitting at their desks playing games while they’re supposed to be investigating how people are getting into them. We’ve already proven that someone did come into your system via a gamer.
“Now, if you don’t give a shit about that and want to continue to allow that to happen, we can leave and ignore it. Not really our problem. But if you’re the men we believe you are, you’re going to want answers and they’re sitting in that room out there. Not in here,” said AJ.
Billings and Peters looked at one another and nodded.
“Take them inside,” said Peters. “They can have access to anything. It wouldn’t matter if I granted it or not, they’d take it.” AJ turned his computer toward the group.
An Excel spreadsheet showed every live, online computer within a hundred yards of him.
Bands of color stretched from every computer to his screen.
Green meant normal communication or work, checked by the algorithm.
Someone was working in a document or form or communicating via e-mail, legitimate business.
Yellow bands showed those using outside software or websites and researching or shopping on non-approved sites.
But the red bands indicated that someone was open and vulnerable, in a completely unapproved site that somehow broke through the firewalls and security, allowing the world to enter into the systems of the Pentagon.
There were nine red bands.