COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN by Joe Bergeron (best beach reads txt) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
The CIA controls a secret organization of 3000 newspaper editors snd reporters who publish editorials and articles according to the CIA's directives. Michael Courtney, a Master of Metaphysics must destroy the clandestine group without getting caught. It all comes down to a simple but ingenious ending that takes place on Long Island Sound.
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- Author: Joe Bergeron
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Are you alright?”
“Shit, no. Yes! What? Kay!” He pushed his back
against his desk.
“No one knows she’s involved except us; what
are you talking about?” His mind raced: he’d thought
she was going out to celebrate with the rest of the laws
class.
“Get her Michael, I’ll have two passes waiting
at Eastern’s ticket counter in Logan for a midnight
flight to D. C.. I’ll meet you at Dulles, and bring you
both in while we resolve this.”
“Are you kidding? I’m laying here with a room
full of glass and a bloody shoulder. I’ll drive down with
her as soon as I can find her. I don’t even know where
she is.” He squinted.
“ OK, just be careful. I’ll have someone over
there in thirty minutes to clean up your office and bring
your work back to Washington.”
“Robert, we have a lot to talk about if we’ve
been compromised. I need to know what’s going on.
How can you get someone here in thirty minutes? How
do you know someone isn’t trying to kill me?”
“Trust me - just leave.”
“I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
The teacher winced, replacing the receiver.
‘Yankee Echo compromised? Everyone’s hand
picked. Did someone discover us? We’d be hard to
infiltrate the way we’re set up. Would someone have
turned? Who?…..it’s happening.’
Retrieving the phone again, and placing the
encoding device against the handle, he dialed her
number, planning to leave a message.
XII
After three rings, he heard the voice of
someone he hadn’t expected to be home.
“Hello”, Kathleen McKenzie answered in a
clear, even voice.
“Kay, are you alright? I thought you might be
out.”
“Yes…Michael? What’s the matter? She could
feel his tone.
“Listen to me. Turn your lights off. Lock your
door, and stay away from your windows.” Although he
tried not to be frightening, it was easy for her to sense
his urgency. “Please Kay, do what I’m asking. I’m
coming over. You’d better pack some clothes, we’re
going to D.C.”
“What are you talking about Michael, what’s
wrong?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Before the phone went dead on her end, he
clearly heard her scream.
“MICHAEL!”
XIII
Part I
Discovery
Chapter 1
Friday, May 19, 9:22 p.m.
1991
The First Physical Law
Nothing Can Happen
Until Something Else First Happens
The sound of breaking glass can be heard
almost as distinctly over the telephone as it can be
heard if you’re standing fifteen feet from a shattering
window pane.
Sitting with a disconnected phone on the other
end of his line, he felt the helplessness of someone
without recourse, and the anger of a man in torment.
Kay was in trouble. She was also six miles
North and West of him in a Waltham condominium.
His instincts told him to run, fly to her side, be there,
protect her, pull her away from this problem, but his
training prevailed.
He secured another outbound line. Facing the
door for what would be a hurried exit, the time span of
two short rings caused by his three digits of pressure
seemed to be an eternity.
“Newton, Sergeant Wilkes.” The voice came
from two miles to his West.
“Sergeant, my name is Michael Courtney, I’m a
teacher at B.C.. I was just speaking to…a friend in
Waltham when her phone went dead. I thought I heard
glass shattering just before she was cut off, so I think
she may have a problem at her place. Could you ask
Waltham to get someone to respond to her address?
She lives in the Pine Glen condominium project,
unit 6C.” 1
His tone expressed desperation.
“What was your name again, sir?” The by-thebook
sergeant’s pen created scribblings to be later
translated into his log book.
“Courtney, Michael Courtney.”
“OK, I’ll contact Waltham and get some response units
over right away - you said it was 6C in Pine Glen,
right?”
“Yes.”
Sergeant Daniel Wilkes, a former 82nd Airborne
communications specialist in Vietnam understood
desperation. Twenty six months of calling in air strikes
from Kontum to dong Hoi had developed a cool mental
attitude in the former paratrooper allowing him to
make quick evaluations while securing the assignment
of appropriate resources to a situation.
Within two minutes, three Waltham patrol
units had wheeled their Ford Crown Victorias into
violent turns - the smoking Michelin ZR’s beneath them
screeching against the lateral force of applied
acceleration. Officers touched the nine-millimeter Colts
at their sides and adjusted their seat belts for a short
ride to an encounter now forming in their minds.
He didn’t hear the phone hit the desk blotter
when he dropped the
no-longer useful too from his hand, nor did he feel the
pain in his bleeding right shoulder. Instead, both his
vision, and sense of touch became acutely defined. He
could feel the fingers of his right hand pulling the set of
keys from an unlocked drawer, and he chose to ignore
the release of the tumblers in the very secure Schlage
lock.
He could feel his left hand putting an encoding
device into his pant’s pocket, but he didn’t hear his own
footsteps carrying him toward the door while broken
glass cracked beneath his feet.
Running, Courtney laid out a mental road map
with alternative routes to a condominium unit that
seemed very far away right now. 2
'Nine twenty-five, too much traffic on Waverly - could
be problems on the Pike too - something’s in the Garden
tonight - I’ll take Commonwealth to 95 - five, maybe six
traffic lights - should be able to run two and make the
rest.’
Taking three stairs at a time, he caught sight
of his black, Jeep Cherokee through the glass wire
mesh doors on the landing, but he didn’t hear them
open or close.
Nor were they closed by the time the 4.0 liter
Power Trac roared to life. He did hear the engine -
wanting to hear that sound, but he didn’t pick up the
sound of his own heart pounding as an image of
Kathleen McKenzie entered his mind.
Her long-lashed, round, moist, blue green eyes
could look through and behind his, but it wasn’t just her
beauty that attracted him.
She was an anomaly, a deviation from the rule -
having the capability to virtually at one and the same
time use both hemispheres of her brain. An evolved
thinker, she belonged to a group of human beings
comprising less than two percent of the world’s
population. It was something she never thought about,
and Courtney could never forget. She was his student,
now his lover, and the daughter of the man he worked
for.
Driving on, he recalled the conversation they’d
had at the college just prior to Thanksgiving break.
“Pardon me?” She’d never heard the term
before.
“I want you to know you’re an evolved thinker.
You can use both sides of your brain, almost
simultaneously - it’s genetic, but doesn’t necessarily
appear in every generation. You inherited this ability
from one of your ancestors.”
His then student responded quizzically. “Mister
Courtney, I don’t understand,”
“If you have a few minutes, I’ll explain it to
you.” 3
Although he’d only known her for a few weeks,
he thought her to be a very sensitive individual - a girl -
woman - who wouldn’t take readily to being told either
what, or who she was.
“I’m not leaving for home until six - I have
some time.”
He hit the first light on Commonwealth green.
‘That’s one - maybe I’ll get lucky.’
The Jeep continued to propel the analyst
toward a five-foot, seven inch ash blond with light
wispy bangs who usually wore her hair bobbed to just
above her shoulders. Her simple, straight nose, without
flair ended just above lips which were not unusual until
she smiled revealing behind them a set of perfect white
teeth.
“Kathleen…” he continued, his thoughts on a
conversation held six month ago - not wanting to think
about the possibilities he could find confronting him
within the next twenty minutes.
“…people think in two ways - deductively, or
inductively, and I’ll explain those terms to you. The
problem is - ninety eight percent of us can’t do both at
the same time. You happen to be someone who can
think both ways - almost at the same time. Deductive
thinking is a process used on the left side of the brain -
it’s logical and analytical. Most everyone in the
Western hemisphere thinks with the left side of their
brain almost all the time. This type of thinking is
called linear, it involves using words and numbers to
explain conclusions that already exist. It’s sort of like
the vanilla ice cream of thought, something has either
happened, or we know the result of something that’s
going to happen, and we have to respond to it. With
inductive thinking, we create premises leading up to
conclusions that don’t already exist. Consciously or
unconsciously, most people consider inductive thinking
too risky, or too hard, simply because it’s harder to
create something than it is to respond to something.
4
Because most people are deductive thinkers,
they’re usually measuring and analyzing their lives
rather than creating and directing newness for
themselves. Ultimately, people who think deductively
all the time can only accomplish so much because they
put themselves in a closed learning format. If there’s
nothing existing for them to act on, in other words,
some thing, or situation created by someone else, they
just keep re-measuring and re-analyzing, which, over a
long period of time creates a sort of mental stagnation.”
“Mister Courtney, I don’t think you…”
‘Wait - let me finish.” Her eyes remained
focused on his.
She nodded.
“American culture actually teaches people to
ignore their intuitive, and sometimes irrational
feelings, or what we’d call gut feelings - so - these
feelings get repressed, along with inductive thinking.
When this happens over and over again, people lose
touch with their intuitions, and any insights they might
have.”
Two vehicles were waiting to cross the
intersection, one a pick up truck. His light was red -
theirs green. The Jeep covered one hundred feet more.
The first car crossed. The pick up, second in line hadn’t
moved.
“Fifty feet, c’mon buddy - what’s your move
gonna be?”
It looked like a Chevy half-ton. The fog lamps
across the roof line, oversized Goodyears, and front end
grill spoiler all suggested one other thing - manual
transmission and clutch - two mechanical actions
requiring at least three seconds to complete from a
standing position.
5
Releasing pressure from the brake pedal,
Courtney pushed the Jeep’s accelerator to the
floorboard - its electronic fuel injection responding, the
lurch pressed his back into the bucket seat.
Speeding beneath the red light, he quickly
scanned the still unmoved pick up. A teenage boy and
girl were embracing, the last thing on their minds the
light before them. His chest heaved as much with relief
as the thought of Kay and similar embraces.
“Nine forty Eight…” he whispered to no one
while noticing the LED display on his dashboard.
Courtney swung the Jeep from Commonwealth
Avenue onto the I-95 northbound entrance ramp toward
Waltham. Two and a half miles left to travel.
“I know you’re an evolved thinker because of
the processes you use to react to, deliberate, and answer
questions that require both inductive reasoning and
deductive logic. In this Physical Laws class, I’ve had a
chance to observe all twelve of you for about seven
weeks now.”
It felt like she was looking straight into his
soul.
“I suppose I should be flattered, but I don’t feel
any different from anyone else. I think there’s a lot of
people smarter than me in this class.”
Without losing eye contact, she released the
straps of her pocketbook from her left shoulder,
allowing the dark brown Italian leather bag to slide
down her forearm coming to rest on the floor.
“You’ve aroused
“Shit, no. Yes! What? Kay!” He pushed his back
against his desk.
“No one knows she’s involved except us; what
are you talking about?” His mind raced: he’d thought
she was going out to celebrate with the rest of the laws
class.
“Get her Michael, I’ll have two passes waiting
at Eastern’s ticket counter in Logan for a midnight
flight to D. C.. I’ll meet you at Dulles, and bring you
both in while we resolve this.”
“Are you kidding? I’m laying here with a room
full of glass and a bloody shoulder. I’ll drive down with
her as soon as I can find her. I don’t even know where
she is.” He squinted.
“ OK, just be careful. I’ll have someone over
there in thirty minutes to clean up your office and bring
your work back to Washington.”
“Robert, we have a lot to talk about if we’ve
been compromised. I need to know what’s going on.
How can you get someone here in thirty minutes? How
do you know someone isn’t trying to kill me?”
“Trust me - just leave.”
“I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
The teacher winced, replacing the receiver.
‘Yankee Echo compromised? Everyone’s hand
picked. Did someone discover us? We’d be hard to
infiltrate the way we’re set up. Would someone have
turned? Who?…..it’s happening.’
Retrieving the phone again, and placing the
encoding device against the handle, he dialed her
number, planning to leave a message.
XII
After three rings, he heard the voice of
someone he hadn’t expected to be home.
“Hello”, Kathleen McKenzie answered in a
clear, even voice.
“Kay, are you alright? I thought you might be
out.”
“Yes…Michael? What’s the matter? She could
feel his tone.
“Listen to me. Turn your lights off. Lock your
door, and stay away from your windows.” Although he
tried not to be frightening, it was easy for her to sense
his urgency. “Please Kay, do what I’m asking. I’m
coming over. You’d better pack some clothes, we’re
going to D.C.”
“What are you talking about Michael, what’s
wrong?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Before the phone went dead on her end, he
clearly heard her scream.
“MICHAEL!”
XIII
Part I
Discovery
Chapter 1
Friday, May 19, 9:22 p.m.
1991
The First Physical Law
Nothing Can Happen
Until Something Else First Happens
The sound of breaking glass can be heard
almost as distinctly over the telephone as it can be
heard if you’re standing fifteen feet from a shattering
window pane.
Sitting with a disconnected phone on the other
end of his line, he felt the helplessness of someone
without recourse, and the anger of a man in torment.
Kay was in trouble. She was also six miles
North and West of him in a Waltham condominium.
His instincts told him to run, fly to her side, be there,
protect her, pull her away from this problem, but his
training prevailed.
He secured another outbound line. Facing the
door for what would be a hurried exit, the time span of
two short rings caused by his three digits of pressure
seemed to be an eternity.
“Newton, Sergeant Wilkes.” The voice came
from two miles to his West.
“Sergeant, my name is Michael Courtney, I’m a
teacher at B.C.. I was just speaking to…a friend in
Waltham when her phone went dead. I thought I heard
glass shattering just before she was cut off, so I think
she may have a problem at her place. Could you ask
Waltham to get someone to respond to her address?
She lives in the Pine Glen condominium project,
unit 6C.” 1
His tone expressed desperation.
“What was your name again, sir?” The by-thebook
sergeant’s pen created scribblings to be later
translated into his log book.
“Courtney, Michael Courtney.”
“OK, I’ll contact Waltham and get some response units
over right away - you said it was 6C in Pine Glen,
right?”
“Yes.”
Sergeant Daniel Wilkes, a former 82nd Airborne
communications specialist in Vietnam understood
desperation. Twenty six months of calling in air strikes
from Kontum to dong Hoi had developed a cool mental
attitude in the former paratrooper allowing him to
make quick evaluations while securing the assignment
of appropriate resources to a situation.
Within two minutes, three Waltham patrol
units had wheeled their Ford Crown Victorias into
violent turns - the smoking Michelin ZR’s beneath them
screeching against the lateral force of applied
acceleration. Officers touched the nine-millimeter Colts
at their sides and adjusted their seat belts for a short
ride to an encounter now forming in their minds.
He didn’t hear the phone hit the desk blotter
when he dropped the
no-longer useful too from his hand, nor did he feel the
pain in his bleeding right shoulder. Instead, both his
vision, and sense of touch became acutely defined. He
could feel the fingers of his right hand pulling the set of
keys from an unlocked drawer, and he chose to ignore
the release of the tumblers in the very secure Schlage
lock.
He could feel his left hand putting an encoding
device into his pant’s pocket, but he didn’t hear his own
footsteps carrying him toward the door while broken
glass cracked beneath his feet.
Running, Courtney laid out a mental road map
with alternative routes to a condominium unit that
seemed very far away right now. 2
'Nine twenty-five, too much traffic on Waverly - could
be problems on the Pike too - something’s in the Garden
tonight - I’ll take Commonwealth to 95 - five, maybe six
traffic lights - should be able to run two and make the
rest.’
Taking three stairs at a time, he caught sight
of his black, Jeep Cherokee through the glass wire
mesh doors on the landing, but he didn’t hear them
open or close.
Nor were they closed by the time the 4.0 liter
Power Trac roared to life. He did hear the engine -
wanting to hear that sound, but he didn’t pick up the
sound of his own heart pounding as an image of
Kathleen McKenzie entered his mind.
Her long-lashed, round, moist, blue green eyes
could look through and behind his, but it wasn’t just her
beauty that attracted him.
She was an anomaly, a deviation from the rule -
having the capability to virtually at one and the same
time use both hemispheres of her brain. An evolved
thinker, she belonged to a group of human beings
comprising less than two percent of the world’s
population. It was something she never thought about,
and Courtney could never forget. She was his student,
now his lover, and the daughter of the man he worked
for.
Driving on, he recalled the conversation they’d
had at the college just prior to Thanksgiving break.
“Pardon me?” She’d never heard the term
before.
“I want you to know you’re an evolved thinker.
You can use both sides of your brain, almost
simultaneously - it’s genetic, but doesn’t necessarily
appear in every generation. You inherited this ability
from one of your ancestors.”
His then student responded quizzically. “Mister
Courtney, I don’t understand,”
“If you have a few minutes, I’ll explain it to
you.” 3
Although he’d only known her for a few weeks,
he thought her to be a very sensitive individual - a girl -
woman - who wouldn’t take readily to being told either
what, or who she was.
“I’m not leaving for home until six - I have
some time.”
He hit the first light on Commonwealth green.
‘That’s one - maybe I’ll get lucky.’
The Jeep continued to propel the analyst
toward a five-foot, seven inch ash blond with light
wispy bangs who usually wore her hair bobbed to just
above her shoulders. Her simple, straight nose, without
flair ended just above lips which were not unusual until
she smiled revealing behind them a set of perfect white
teeth.
“Kathleen…” he continued, his thoughts on a
conversation held six month ago - not wanting to think
about the possibilities he could find confronting him
within the next twenty minutes.
“…people think in two ways - deductively, or
inductively, and I’ll explain those terms to you. The
problem is - ninety eight percent of us can’t do both at
the same time. You happen to be someone who can
think both ways - almost at the same time. Deductive
thinking is a process used on the left side of the brain -
it’s logical and analytical. Most everyone in the
Western hemisphere thinks with the left side of their
brain almost all the time. This type of thinking is
called linear, it involves using words and numbers to
explain conclusions that already exist. It’s sort of like
the vanilla ice cream of thought, something has either
happened, or we know the result of something that’s
going to happen, and we have to respond to it. With
inductive thinking, we create premises leading up to
conclusions that don’t already exist. Consciously or
unconsciously, most people consider inductive thinking
too risky, or too hard, simply because it’s harder to
create something than it is to respond to something.
4
Because most people are deductive thinkers,
they’re usually measuring and analyzing their lives
rather than creating and directing newness for
themselves. Ultimately, people who think deductively
all the time can only accomplish so much because they
put themselves in a closed learning format. If there’s
nothing existing for them to act on, in other words,
some thing, or situation created by someone else, they
just keep re-measuring and re-analyzing, which, over a
long period of time creates a sort of mental stagnation.”
“Mister Courtney, I don’t think you…”
‘Wait - let me finish.” Her eyes remained
focused on his.
She nodded.
“American culture actually teaches people to
ignore their intuitive, and sometimes irrational
feelings, or what we’d call gut feelings - so - these
feelings get repressed, along with inductive thinking.
When this happens over and over again, people lose
touch with their intuitions, and any insights they might
have.”
Two vehicles were waiting to cross the
intersection, one a pick up truck. His light was red -
theirs green. The Jeep covered one hundred feet more.
The first car crossed. The pick up, second in line hadn’t
moved.
“Fifty feet, c’mon buddy - what’s your move
gonna be?”
It looked like a Chevy half-ton. The fog lamps
across the roof line, oversized Goodyears, and front end
grill spoiler all suggested one other thing - manual
transmission and clutch - two mechanical actions
requiring at least three seconds to complete from a
standing position.
5
Releasing pressure from the brake pedal,
Courtney pushed the Jeep’s accelerator to the
floorboard - its electronic fuel injection responding, the
lurch pressed his back into the bucket seat.
Speeding beneath the red light, he quickly
scanned the still unmoved pick up. A teenage boy and
girl were embracing, the last thing on their minds the
light before them. His chest heaved as much with relief
as the thought of Kay and similar embraces.
“Nine forty Eight…” he whispered to no one
while noticing the LED display on his dashboard.
Courtney swung the Jeep from Commonwealth
Avenue onto the I-95 northbound entrance ramp toward
Waltham. Two and a half miles left to travel.
“I know you’re an evolved thinker because of
the processes you use to react to, deliberate, and answer
questions that require both inductive reasoning and
deductive logic. In this Physical Laws class, I’ve had a
chance to observe all twelve of you for about seven
weeks now.”
It felt like she was looking straight into his
soul.
“I suppose I should be flattered, but I don’t feel
any different from anyone else. I think there’s a lot of
people smarter than me in this class.”
Without losing eye contact, she released the
straps of her pocketbook from her left shoulder,
allowing the dark brown Italian leather bag to slide
down her forearm coming to rest on the floor.
“You’ve aroused
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