A Message to Garcia

“Moe, I was NOT drunk. I ended up in some weird meeting with people talking about taking over the Middle East and building oil pipelines in Afghanistan…” Moe's demeanor changed to that of calm reserve, but did not interrupt. “…and THEN these two guys tried to mug, no, KILL me on the subway last night. And one of them is still out there. I'm telling you, Moe, something is up. This makes no sense at all.” Jackson paused and looked at Moe who was silent. “Well, are you gonna say something?” “Are you finished?” replied Moe in the same low even tone. “Well, no! I'm tired, exhausted, bruised and sore, and my tux is in shreds and I'll have to foot the bill to the tune of a couple of hundred bucks to replace it --just what is happening?” Exasperated, Jackson paused for a moment, calming now that he had vented. He looked at Moe and quietly said, “OK, I'm done.” “Listen,” Moe said quietly and deliberately, “Why don't you just go home and get some rest. “Moe, I'm telling you, this is not good and it isn't going to go away.” “I know, but it'll make more sense after you get some rest. Now go!” “Moe, you're acting strange…” “Go!” “Alright already! I'm going. See you tomorrow.” Jackson walked out of Moe's office. `Saudis' thought Jackson to himself. Barely having the time to process the conversation he'd just had with Moe, he looked down the hall and saw Omar Cribb walk out of John Boo's office and move towards the elevators. A giant light bulb suddenly lit inside Jackson's head! Little voices were screaming at the top of their lungs, his sixth sense in hyper-drive. He didn't know exactly how, but he knew that Cribb was an oddball and the events of last night were tied to him. Jackson quickly moved to the edge of the elevator bay and peered around the corner so Cribb would not notice him. When Cribb entered the elevator, Jackson entered the elevator bay to see if Cribb was going down. He pressed the down button 40 or 50 times, as if that would make the next elevator come faster. When the elevator arrived, Jackson got on and hit “L”. Jackson was beside himself when the elevator stopped three times to pick up passengers before reaching the bottom. He was sure he'd lost Cribb. As the doors opened, Jackson leapt from the elevator and almost ran directly into Cribb as Cribb was just getting off his own elevator. Apparently many people were riding the elevators today. “Mr. McGuigan, so nice to see you again,” said Cribb in a calm, deep and passive voice as he extended his hand. “I trust you enjoyed your evening last night.” Sweating and heart pounding, Jackson took Cribb's warm yet spine chilling hand in his own. Cribb's eyes had a look that he'd seen before --the look of someone who would use a child as a human shield. Jackson realized in this instant how dangerous Cribb was. “Why Mr. Cribb, yes, Cribb. So nice to see you again. How are you?” returned Jackson as he wiped some sweat from his brow. “Oh yes, it was a very enjoyable evening, indeed.” Together they began to move through the lobby towards the exit. “You are quite the activist, Mr. McGuigan. You had Mr. Bett going with your rhetoric about cleaning up the Hudson.” “Well, Mr. Cribb, he had it coming.” They both moved through the revolving doors and paused outside of the building. “But, I suppose I was out of line. After all, it was a social gathering --a party. Please pass on my apologies to him.” “No, Mr. McGuigan, you are quite right. Last night was about business, all about business --nothing more, nothing less. That was the entire reason for last night's get together. But you shouldn't let business upset you. After all, it is only business.” “You make it sound as though everything in life is about business.” “I suppose you could look at it that way. After all, Mr. McGuigan, children play, adults do business, and we are not children. I'd like to talk some more, but I have to make an appointment, so I will take my leave of you. Have a good d ay, Mr. McGuigan.” “You too, Mr. Cribb, you too.” They shook hands and Cribb began moving north along Broadway towards Federal Plaza. Jackson feigned moving south and stopped midway down the block to seem as though he was going to cross the street in the middle of the block. When he looked north towards the southbound traffic, he saw Cribb looking over his shoulder as he veered toward Federal Plaza. When Cribb was out of sight, Jackson moved quickly northward to see Cribb heading for the employee entrance of Federal Plaza. Jackson got close enough to see Cribb bypass the x-ray machine at the security check and show government credentials to gain entry. `Now isn't THAT something,' Jackson thought, flashing his own government EPA credentials as he followed Cribb. Jackson moved across to the other side of the spacious lobby to see Cribb entering the FBI elevator bay, which is surrounded by bomb and bulletproof glass. No one else was in the elevator bay and as the doors to an elevator opened, Cribb stepped in. As the doors closed and the elevator rose to its destination, from around the corner Jackson watched the board on the wall through the glass to see which floor Cribb's elevator would stop at…20, 21, 22, 23. 23. 23. It didn't move --22, 21, 20. He got off on the 23rd floor! Jackson pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked for a number on the speed dial. He dialed. “Task Force, Supervising Agent DeBiers,” answered the voice. “Karl, this is Jackson McGuigan. Can you come down to the elevator entrance right away? I need a big favor.”