Chapter 3
Posted: June 29, 2007 - 06:49:31 pm


Seated in the living room of the Captain's house, Mike was watching the news with an arm around Karen. A story that was receiving very little national attention had just ended. A Muslim from India had terrorism charges against him dropped because it was claimed that the FBI had targeted him on the basis of racial profiling. He had been investigated for wanting to get a truck driver's license for hauling hazardous materials while having stated that he didn't want to learn how to back up the truck. The story didn't mention that the investigation had shown that the man had spent six months in an Indonesian terrorist training camp.

Mike shook his head in disgust. Disappointed in the American legal system, he said, "I can't believe that he got away with it."

"The judge bought his argument that every student expressed concerns about learning how to back up a truck and that didn't represent just cause for suspecting him of being involved in terrorism," Karen said repeating a crucial line from the news story.

"The bastards that flew their airplanes into the pentagon hadn't wanted to learn how to land the plane. What in the hell is the matter with people?" Mike asked.

"It is a difficult maneuver. We can't suspect everyone who is a little hesitant about learning it of being a terrorist," Karen said with a smile.

"I can if they are a foreigner," Mike said with a snort.

"No you can't," Karen said adding a little fuel to the fire. She hoped to get him a little riled up so that later he could take some of that frustration out with her in bed. An hour later her efforts were amply rewarded with a very energetic session in bed.

Mike sat down in the cafeteria with some of the analysts working on the terrorism task force. He noticed that the Muslim members of the task force were eating at a separate table. Donald, one of the more outspoken members of the team, said, "Did you hear about Mohammed Abdul?"

One of the other men looked up and said, "No. What about him?"

"He was caught this morning trying to enter the country through LAX," Donald said. Despite the good news that it represented, Donald didn't look very happy about it.

"That's great."

Shaking his head, Donald said, "There was a lawyer from the ACLU in line behind him. He's already filed suit for unlawful detainment."

Mike did his best not to react. The news that Mohammed Abdul had been arrested was significant. The man was suspected of having planned and executed a recent Embassy bombing that had killed the American Ambassador to Thailand. The idea that he had come to the United States suggested that a major effort was being planned. The others around the table purposefully examined the food on their plates, but each glanced over to the other table. One of them finally asked, "On what grounds?"

"Profiling. The lawyer said that the man was not acting in a fashion that should have caused them to investigate the man's credentials," Donald said.

Beating Mike to the question, one of the other men asked, "It doesn't matter to the lawyer that the man is a known terrorist?"

"The lawyer claims that it is a matter of civil rights. You can't single out someone for special attention because of their nationality, race, or religion. That's the biggest bunch of bullshit that I've ever heard. If we can't... ," Donald answered stopping when one of the other men kicked him under the table in an attempt to get him to shut up. Donald glared at the man and said, "Hey, I'm not saying that all of the rag heads deserve special attention."

Donald's comment caused a sudden silence to descend around the table. Remembering the advice of his father-in-law, Mike frowned and turned his attention to his meal. He glanced at one of the nearby tables and noticed that one of the men at the table filled with Chinese had left. Chang was at the table and was staring at Donald. Mike looked over at Donald thinking that the man had just done something very stupid and shook his head.

He listened to a much more subdued discussion around the table. No one wanted to say anything that was too inflammatory. By the time lunch was over, it was a given among them that Mohammed Abdul would get off and be allowed to leave the country. Mike agreed with that conclusion, but he didn't make a comment.

A few minutes before five, Chang stopped by Mike's cubicle and asked, "Did you hear the news?"

"What news?" Mike asked looking up from his computer. Not trusting Chang, he activated the screensaver so that the man wouldn't be able to see what he was working on if he stepped further into the cubicle. He turned to face the door so that he could see Chang. He had to see the man in order to get through his thick Chinese accent.

"Donald Jones was suspended today," Chang answered. The expression on his face suggested that he was upset by the news.

"Why?" Mike asked not believing Chang was upset at all by the news. He was pretty sure that Chang had sent the man from his table to personnel to complain about Donald's comments.

"He made some racists comments in the cafeteria," Chang said watching Mike carefully.

"Really?"

Chang nodded his head and said, "You should know. You were at the table when he made the comment."

"Now that you mention it, maybe he did say something. I wasn't really paying attention," Mike said. He held up one of the reports on his desk without really looking at it and said, "I was thinking about this report."

"Well, if you ever hear anyone talking like that, you'd better let personnel know about it. We don't tolerate any of that racist stuff around here," Chang said.

"I would hope so. We can't have racists working here," Mike said in a friendly voice. He wasn't sure who the 'we' was in Chang's comment about intolerance, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't the majority of analysts. He felt that they could use a few more people who were suspicious of the activities of foreign-born nationals working within the agency.

Nodding his head in agreement, Chang said, "That's right. I imagine that after the hearing, Donald will be fired. It's a shame, too. He was a pretty good analyst."

"I guess it is a shame, but it wouldn't surprise me if he was fired," Mike said. He smiled at Chang and said, "At least someone noticed and reported Donald's racist behavior."

Having delivered his news, Chang turned and left for his cubicle. Mike watched Chang leave. Despite the fact that Chang never said or did anything to cast doubt on his loyalty, Mike couldn't help feeling that the man was dirty. The briefing that Chang had given concerning his trip to China hadn't been very complete. There were significant omissions in the information that he'd brought back. He'd have to watch his step around Chang very closely. Shaking his head, he turned back to his computer and typed in his password.

Mike swore at the lawn mower after another attempt to start it had failed. It was brand new and he couldn't get it started. He grabbed the push bar of the lawnmower with his left hand making sure that he had the safety bar pulled up against it. He reached down and grabbed the starter pull. He yanked back on the pull. The push bar popped out of his left hand thereby releasing the safety bar. He swore, "Shit!"

Looking at the assembly, he figured it was time to make some major modifications to the machine. He stomped into the house to get his tools. Karen took one look at his face and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I can't start the damned lawnmower," Mike said venting a little of his frustration.

"It's brand new," Karen said. She was about to start on a rant about how new items didn't seem to be of much quality.

Shaking his head, Mike said, "I can't hold the safety bar while pulling the stupid starter cord. It keeps popping out of my left hand."

"Oh," Karen said putting the brakes on her rant. She looked down at the dish towel she held in her hand and tossed it to him. She said, "Tie it down with this."

Catching the towel with his good hand, Mike said, "Good idea. I was going to disassemble the damned thing and fix it so that I could use the mower without the safety bar."

Karen laughed and said, "My engineer. You're always looking to do things the hard way."

Mike grumbled, "I don't even know why they put those damned safety bars on lawnmowers."

"Someone tried to use a lawnmower to trim their hedges and lost all of their fingers. They sued the manufacturer of the lawnmower and won the case," Karen answered.

The idea that anyone would be that stupid staggered Mike. There was no way that story could be true. He stared at her for a second before he said, "You're kidding me."

"Well, that's the story I heard," Karen said.

"That's got to be an urban myth," Mike said.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. If someone can win a lawsuit because they spilled hot coffee on themselves because the person who sold them the coffee didn't warn them that it was hot, then anything is possible," Karen replied.

Shaking his head in remembrance of that little news item, Mike decided that she might be right. He said, "Well, I better get back out there and mow down that fine crop of weeds that we call a lawn before the neighbors complain."

"I wouldn't worry about that. The neighbors are so happy that we bought the place that they aren't going to complain if you don't get the weeds whacked this weekend," Karen said with a smile.

Vincent went behind his desk and took a seat in the leather chair. Looking over at Mike, he said, "Congress killed two of my weapons programs this week."

"That doesn't sound good," Mike said looking across the study at his father-in-law. He was going to miss the evening discussions with the Captain when he moved to the new house.

"It isn't. These were significant projects that could have really helped protect our ships. This is a major setback," Vincent said. One of them was an unmanned drone that could double as an anti- missile missile. It was intended to protect a ship against a Chinese Silkworm Missile.

"If they are that significant, why did they kill them?"

"You won't believe me when I tell you," Vincent said. He had seen the entire situation unfold and didn't believe it.

"What happened?" Mike asked looking concerned.

"It seems that the companies that were involved in the program are being sued for not hiring individuals of foreign birth," Vincent said shaking his head. The case hadn't even been resolved in the courts and one of the members of the House of Representatives had decided to make it into a political matter.

"Who would sue them?"

"It turns out that it was an individual who applied for a job as a janitor at one of the companies. When he didn't get the job, he says he sat outside the company and watched the people going in and out of the building. When he didn't see anyone who wasn't white or black, he contacted an ACLU lawyer," Vincent said. He looked over at Mike and said, "I'm pretty sure that the company was targeted. The other suit followed after the first one under similar circumstances."

"What nationality was he?" Mike asked.

"He was British until he became an American citizen," Vincent answered. Seeing the look of surprise on Mike's face, he added, "He's Muslim."

"Oh," Mike said guessing what was coming next.

Vincent nodded his head and said, "He was raised in the same neighborhood where all of the London Bus Bombers came from."

"That's bad," Mike said staring at the floor.

"There's no proof that he has any terrorist connections," Vincent said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"So on the basis of that, some congressman decided to make a big deal out of the matter," Mike said. He really wondered what had happened to common sense.

"I should mention that the congressman in question happens to be Muslim," Vincent said.

"It sounds to me like there is a huge conspiracy to undermine our ability to protect this country," Mike said knowing as he said it that he sounded a lot like a right-wing radical. The problem was that there was a lot of recruiting going on inside of Mosques. There were over eight million Muslims in the country. All it took was for the terrorists to locate that one person out a thousand who 'believed' and the threat would be huge. With an inner circle of planners, there'd be a lot of coordination of effort going on across the country.

Vincent looked at Mike for a full minute. He said, "I don't think you know the half of it. Things are really getting bad. These Muslims are testing the legal system and finding holes in it that they can drive a truck through. They are shaping the domestic battlefield so that we're defenseless when they attack."

"I know exactly what you mean," Mike said shaking his head sadly. "They are making it impossible to ask a Muslim any kind of question without it sounding like we are harassing them. They get up and act all funny while praying to Allah before a flight. They are talking in a language that no one knows while boarding a plane. After getting kicked off they sue. They win and now no one will kick any other Muslim off the plane regardless of how they are behaving. As a result, our planes are wide open targets. One of these days, planes will be flying into the Pentagon again.

"Another terrorist gets caught trying to get a driver's license and permit to deliver hazardous materials using a truck. He sues saying that the investigation was initiated as a result of racial profiling. All of a sudden, we can't investigate people who are acquiring the means to deliver weapons. One day, one of those bastards is going to drive a chlorine truck right into a mall and kill everyone in it.

"Another terrorist is caught entering the country with falsified credentials. He sues that he was unlawfully investigated because he is a Muslim. When he wins his case, we won't be able to stop them from coming in the country. One day, we'll wake up and there will be a thousand of them here."

Vincent nodded his head in agreement. He said, "It's even worse than that. They are dismantling the organizations that are supposed to stop them. They are working from within the system. A lot of folks know that is happening, but we're powerless to do anything about it."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked.

"We live in a world in which the truth has to take a backseat to political correctness. Even if you are right, if you tell the truth in the wrong way you'll be wrong," Vincent answered.

"You mean I can't call a shovel a spade," Mike said.

"That's right. Watch yourself at work."

The weekend found Mike putting up the wallboard in the bathroom with Karen's help. As he nailed in another sheet, he said, "They fired Donald this week."

Karen didn't know how to respond. He had been keeping her informed of the actions being taken against Donald. She felt that the man was getting railroaded. She asked, "Was he a good analyst?"

"Yes, but that didn't matter at the hearing," Mike answered. Chang had sat in on the hearing as a representative of the minority groups and had informed Mike that Donald was history. Chang was appropriately saddened by the actions they had to take. Of course, Mike didn't believe that for a second.

"What are you going to do?" Karen asked. She was worried that Mike was going to say something and lose his job.

"Nothing. There's nothing that I can do. Donald was stupid and he lost his job because of it. He knew that he shouldn't say things like that," Mike said. It didn't seem fair to him that one comment could get a man fired, but in the politically correct climate even minor comments weren't tolerated.

"Be careful," Karen said.

Mike finished attaching the piece of wallboard and stepped back. He said, "You can let go of it now."

"Watch out for that Chang character," Karen said knowing how Mike felt about him. She was afraid that one day he'd say something wrong and Chang would have him up in front of the review board.

"I might be a Marine, but I understand subtlety," Mike said with a smile. He turned to prepare the next piece of wallboard.

"Good," Karen said thinking that Marines didn't exactly have the reputation for subtlety.

"You know the thing that bothers me the most about this whole racism thing," Mike said.

"What?"

"The cafeteria," Mike answered.

"What about the cafeteria?" Karen asked puzzled by his answer.

"I don't like the way that people sit when they are in the cafeteria. All of the Chinese sit together in a cluster of tables. They talk to each other in Chinese. They eat Chinese food. They read Chinese newspapers. I don't know what they are saying. None of us know what they are saying. Every time I look over at them, Chang is sitting there in the middle of all of his Chinese buddies. For all I know, he could be discussing how to get rid of us one at a time and no one would be the wiser," Mike said.

"Wow, it sounds like there is a Chinese mafia at work there," Karen said.

Mike shook his head and said, "It's worse than that. The Indians do the same thing. They all sit together and talk in a foreign language. They are busy eating Indian food. There are even a bunch of women that wear their Indian costumes. Some of the men wear those turbans.

"The Muslims do the same thing. The women are wearing their scarves or whatever the hell they are called. They even have prayer sessions at work. You get three of them together and they start speaking Arabic. They can be saying all kinds of nasty things about us, but we can't understand them in order to complain."

"You're sounding a little paranoid now," Karen said.

"You know, I have nothing against people coming to America to create a better life for themselves. I just wish they would start eating our food, talking our language, and socialize with us to integrate into our society. I feel like I'm the fucking foreigner in my own country. I'm supposed to integrate into their society. Fuck that," Mike said with a little more energy than intended.

"I know what you mean."

"If their way of doing things is all that great, then why in the hell do they want to come here? I'll tell you why. Their countries are shit-holes. I know, I've been there," Mike said. Shaking his head, he added, "They come over here and demand that we do things their way. Why? They want this country to turn into a shit-hole too."

"Don't ever say anything like that at work," Karen said looking at her husband with a worried expression on her face.

"Don't worry about that. I won't even say something like that where other people can hear me," Mike said. He put an arm around her and said, "You're the only one who gets to see my real feelings."

Hugging him back, Karen said, "Good. I know what you mean about them clumping together like that. Now that I think about it, all of the students of foreign nationality all go to lunch together at school. Of course, there's nothing too sinister about a bunch of students getting together over lunch."

"I'm not sure of that," Mike said with a frown. He felt at times that the universities were recruiting grounds for the disaffected and dissatisfied.

"You're really getting paranoid over this," Karen said looking at Mike with concern.

"Maybe I am, but things don't feel right," Mike said. He looked down at his left hand and flexed the fingers that still worked. With a sigh, he said, "I've got that same feeling about this that I had just before I got shot. Some real heavy shit is about to come down on us and we'd better be prepared for it."

"Have you talked to my father about this?" Karen asked getting concerned about his feelings. She knew that when he felt something bad was about to happen that he was always right.

"Yes."

"What does he say?"

Mike was quiet for half a minute. Hugging his wife to him, he said, "He agrees with me."
Lazlo Zalezac
Chapter 4