The Tent Conspiracy: July 2012

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

A diplomat's life can hardly be termed happy. Agent Echo was neither free to pursue his own happiness, nor free to grouse about it.

“We don't get paid to be happy,” his Chief of Station had chided him. “We get paid to serve the President's agenda.”

“No need to snipe at me,” he had mentally retorted. Verbally, he had given the diplomatic equivalent of “three bags full, sir.”

Now, here he sat, a prisoner of the tropical heat with nothing to break the monotony of the air conditioner but a Reader's Digest.

It fell open to the story of the now aging Blackbird program. As he glanced across the printed page, he felt disgruntled and angry. Usually he would have been contented with water fountain scuttlebutt, but now his mind turned upon the hue and cry that the recent spy Philby had generated. A perverse pride reared its head, and he reflected, “I could do better.”

As he continued to read, a natural fear of prison deterred practical application of his talents until he recalled that the Readers' Digest was a Catholic publication. “Hmm,” he pondered, “Does the Vatican actually know about the SR-71 Blackbird?” The story presented itself as a good way to test the temperature of the waters. He selected an unofficial letterhead, and put it in the typewriter.

“His Holiness the Pope,” it began. He felt a kind of catharsis at this avenue of release. His diplomatic juices flowed, as he finally found himself free to choose his own words. God always came before “Country” in the phrase “For God and Country,” and his Catholic soul had never felt so free.

(Part one of sequel at World Wide Tent.)

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, a boy was surprised to see his schoolmate's father peering under a rock. He did not know Gary’s father's name, but he was almost certain that the man with the golf bag was the same man who picked up Roger, Gary and Sarah at school every day. The man glanced around, and then exchanged a similar stone from his pocket, although this one appeared to be hollow. The man placed a film capsule in it before glancing around again, and placing it on the ground. Unseen near a trash burn barrel, Etienne hesitated to call out, and the man left without noticing him. “He must not have seen me,” the youth thought. He finished replacing his derailed bicycle chain, and continued his grocery store run. Although he was Canadian on his father's passport, he felt a conspiratorial protectiveness for the secrecy of his American friend's father. “I'll never ask him about it,” he thought.

Chapter 3

The incident forgotten, young Etienne thought no more of it for several weeks. The matter only resurfaced as a result of an unusual circumstance.

Toward the end of the summer semester, in P.E. Class, Etienne found himself anchoring the final leg of a relay race, competing directly against Gary Arberton. The teams were evenly matched, and Etienne began his leg with a slight lead. In the final 50 meters, Gary laboriously reeled in his lead, and in the last 10 feet, he arrogantly put his free hand on Etienne's chest and pushed past, winning by a counterfeit nose.

As the teacher inevitably approached, Etienne was so angry he was in tears. By contrast, Gary belligerently launched into a verbal tirade, insisting that Etienne had treacherously attempted to trip him, which (he averred) left him no choice but to steady himself, with observable results.

The teacher had a miniature quandary on his hands. Etienne' father was but a chauffeur at the Canadian Embassy, whereas Gary's father was a full fledged diplomat. Following the path of least resistance makes men and rivers crooked, and in two minutes the teacher loudly pronounced Gary the victor, proclaiming for all to hear that Etienne had cheated by attempting to trip him.

Denied justice, Etienne launched forth with the sternest accusation of which he could conceive. “Gary, you're a liar and a cheat, and your daddy is a SPY!”

Flush with his successful dissimulation, Gary retaliated at the top of his lungs, “You'll pay for that Etienne! Just see if you DON'T!”

Hall monitors had to drag the two apart as fisticuffs ensued.

None could imagine the conflagration of hatred that would result from rash words, lightly spoken in unguarded anger. It was a Catholic school!

Chapter 4

Gary's rage boiled over during the summer break. Over dinner, he took occasion to complain loudly to his brother and sister that Etienne was a snitch. To put an end to malingering, the family patriarch finally inquired as to what the offense might be. Heedless as ever, Gary unhesitatingly ratted his classmate out. “Etienne says you're a spy!” he told his father.

To a diplomat, loose talk about espionage is no small matter but to Agent Echo, a paradoxically innocent and guilty conscience took particular offense. How dare the young Canadian pup accuse his religious latitude of lax patriotism? His ire slumbered wakefully.

A forgiving soul, Etienne again pushed aside memories of injustice, and threw himself into his chores at his father's direction. An only child, his American mother spent more time with Etienne than his father, and that very summer she persuaded him to claim American citizenship as his birthright.

Imagine Agent Echo's surprise at the office nine days later, to see Etienne's passport application cross his desk. “Etienne DuBois” was claiming American birth. Trained in diplomacy, Agent Echo knew from experience not to waste even the smallest diplomatic chip, but under “OC” (official cover,) he was also trained in espionage. Together, these two competencies set his mind alight with more than one scenario in which his office exploited such a windfall. He could gain leverage by using this identity for a NOC (non-official cover.) This left only to decide if the cover in question should be represented as an American or a Canadian. But really, was this currency worth more to his country or was this a plum for his new contacts at the Vatican?

He spent a full three days thinking it over, before issuing instructions that Etienne's first passport number be annotated by the US Secret Service's witness protection database under sealed indictment for espionage, as an un-indicted co-conspirator. Etienne was to begin life all unsuspecting, a spy before he knew it, his only defense his utter unpreparedness for any accusations that might come his way.

Agent Echo then proceeded to prepare a packet for the Vatican explaining that the House of Cardinals could exploit this identity internationally as an American spy under cover as a Canadian. No one was likely to put a child in supermax, but the resulting diplomatic pile-up would teach this impertinent Canadian AND his country NOT to meddle with American diplomacy.

Agent Echo was pleased with himself as he greeted his Chief of Station in the hall. Etienne was sworn in privately, and the passport was issued.

With an outlet for his various diplomatic injuries, real and imagined, Agent Echo's attitude outwardly improved, and soon enough he was able to inform the Vatican that he was applying for a promotion to the United Kingdom. His Holiness the Pope would soon not only enjoy inside information, but exert influence in the steerage of a Superpower.

The Ship of State had unofficially slipped her moorings, set adrift in a sea of doubt.

Chapter 5

It was public knowledge at the school. Roger, Gary and Sarah's Dad was getting posted to London, and they would be leaving at the end of the semester. Etienne was in the Physics lab, lining up pins to demonstrate the refractive index of glass. He had muffed his first pass, and while he re-tested his experiment, the rest of his class had migrated to the homeroom, to read comic books and get a head start on homework.

He was surprised by a light touch at his arm. Sarah had entered so silently that he had not even heard her. She spoke no word, but handed him a note. He opened it to read:

P.O. Box 993

London, England

“I've never said anything before, because I was afraid you wouldn't like me back,” Sarah said breathlessly, her face pink with embarrassment. “Will you write me?”

She spoke no more, but stood on one foot, her eyes silently entreating him to love her. Etienne was not the kind of youth to manipulate others, and he was much affected by her simple plea. He went from clueless to puppy love in a moment, and he earnestly returned her gaze. “I promise,” he said.

She left in innocent transports. She had never been disappointed in love, and so, if Etienne said he would write, the universe affirmed it. She could not doubt it for a moment. Her secret joy was complete.

Neither of them could anticipate the reverses to love the fates might have in store. It was the address for secret communications to the Embassy. Sarah reasoned straightforwardly that she intended her letters to Etienne to be secret, and since this was the secret address, that was the correct address to use.

It was not six weeks later that Etienne's first missive arrived. He dutifully wrote about his frog dissection, and the price of petrol, and closed with his best “Yours Truly.” Sarah was devastated. How could he not tell her of poetry class, and his puppy, and how could he possibly close without “Love, Etienne?”

At that age, love must conquer all. She sat down immediately and answered with her best improvement. Not two weeks more had flown, before his answer returned, dutifully signed “Love, Etienne,” but this time no personal information; he more or less reviewed the movie “Love Story.”

All this was innocent enough, but these communications could not long endure without drawing the inspection of the diplomatic personnel. Soon, Agent Echo was steaming open these envelopes, and subjecting them to prying eyes, the star crossed minors all unsuspecting.

Nor would this passive interference long survive, before the arrogance of command led Agent Echo to take a hand in them. Soon, he was answering Etienne with all the art that a man of letters, and schooled in the ways of the world, could muster, while simultaneously assassinating Sarah's tender affections, sacrificing her microcosm of joy on the cruel altar of malignant mischief.

First crushed, then scorned, Sarah was gently goaded not to simple indifference, but a consuming fire of miniature hatred.

Karma was dealing Etienne a debt of woe that equal remuneration could never erase.

Chapter 6

In a grander arena, Agent Echo was experiencing the heady liqueur of power on a World Stage. America investigated hopes for England's assistance in the Vietnam War? The Papal offices counseled foot dragging. No reason the Americans shouldn't bear the full penalty of their impetuosity, not merely the brunt of it. The tune was different when it came to the SALT treaties... these the Pope encouraged.

As a liqueur, it was not a smooth intoxication. It had a nasty kick and the hangover was that Agent Echo was smarter than his handlers. And bolder. His exultation over telling the Pope such things as he deemed fit, was tempered by hollow nagging doubts that such a fallible Pope could be his only intermediary to the Almighty. He repressed an anger that had a bitterness all its own.

As a result, Etienne's Sarah broke up with him. Characteristically, it was not a clean break. His fictitious Juliette began testing his affections, asking him to prove his love in an escalating variety of ways. Echo took no time at all to conclude, “I'm using this kid anyway... why not develop an asset?”

“Sarah” asked Etienne to smuggle him an itinerary. At this, Etienne drew the line. How could his pure and unspoiled icon contemplate so low an agenda? His maiden feigned insult, then anger. She drew out the time between letters, by inventing scheduled duties and commitments. Then she stopped explaining. Two months passed between love's refueling, then three. Etienne was dying inside. He was not in danger himself of any treason, but his partner's very soul seemed endangered by mutilated patriotism. Didn't she know that he could not betray his Canadian father, merely because he had aligned his fortunes with their concurrent commitment to the United States? How could she? What could he do to retrieve her tarnished affections?

Like a cartoon character, he was out in mid-air above a precipice. The only thing preventing his inevitable fall was innocence. A Papal spy in Germany was detained. His “name?” Etienne DuBois!

Chapter 7

Detective Hubble had just finished lunch, when he arrived at his desk to find a cable requesting all info regarding a certain “Etienne DuBois.” The man in question claimed Canadian allegiance, but Canada had no record. Mr. DuBois had been detained leaving the Swedish Embassy in Berlin, with the memory card from a digital camera, containing pictures of two Embassy employees. It was the work of 7 minutes to ascertain that one of the employees was the signals officer, and the other his boss on the clandestine side of Embassy operations.

Interpol would definitely be interested, but Hubble would need picture identification of Mr. DuBois, before he would open Interpol files to the German policeman. His message was met with an odd response. Mr. DuBois had been cleared of all charges, and the matter was closed. The German officer went on to add, on a personal note, that Mr. DuBois had merely been drunk and disorderly, and the cable request for information had been the work of an overzealous orderly – kindly disregard.

Detective Hubble thanked him, and dismissed the matter from his mind. His son's seventh birthday would arrive before the weekend, and he had to find a clown for the birthday party.

Chapter 8

It was eight weeks later, before Etienne was treated to new revelations about his Sarah. In halting verbiage, she explained with shame and intimate trust that she was sexually active... with her FATHER!

Sarah lived in Etienne's dreams, literally and figuratively. No greater torment could his mind have known. His reply was hot, tempered with the fear that words of anger, condemning her father, would drive her away. He would steal his father's vacation money and meet her in Paris, if only she would run away with him.

Her answer shocked the senses. He must not tell anyone. It wasn't as if her father had been beating her. He was tender, and she could not BEAR to see him disparaged publicly. Etienne, she assured him, had no idea the sensitivity of her father's diplomatic efforts. He was a crucial link in a chain of espionage between the American President and Soviet Premier Gorbachev. If Etienne let ill advised comments slip, Cold War misunderstandings might start nuclear war.

Etienne burned in his soul with indignation. He could not hazard nuclear war the world over, but such injustice MUST be challenged. Without telling Sarah of his intentions, he began to implement plans of his own.

Without telling his father, he began to help himself to the rainy day fund in the family safe. American currency would serve as a medium of exchange anywhere in the world. His father did not know that his mother knew the combination, and she had asked Etienne to place things in it on her behalf, from time to time. Jewelry, important unsigned documents; the list went on.

He stole his own American Passport, and asked his father for permission to visit Sri Lanka on a tourist visa. Soon enough, his father presented him with a Canadian passport of his own, replete with a tourist visa to Sri Lanka. His ten day stay was to be with a British mission. He was hardly off the plane, before he was presenting his American passport for a three day stamp, and buying a return ticket to Heathrow Airport. Having secured the ticket, he called on the British family with gifts of instant coffee and sandalwood talcum powder. He explained that he had been struck with the good fortune of an invitation to a game preserve in the East, and thanked them for their promises of hospitality and stayed over night. He left in the morning, taking time to mail his parents a post-card, before embarking on his clandestine journey to London. His plane was touching down in England before 24 hours had passed, and he felt a sense of vindication, as the first stage of his expedition of reprisal ended.

Chapter 9

Sarah, in the mean time had been treated to revelations of her own. Etienne revealed with shame and humiliation that he was in love... with her brother. In halting verbiage, he explained with fear and intimate trust, that he was sexually active with a schoolmate, but his true affections lay in England, where Gary didn't even know he existed.

Her replies were devastated. She could now comprehend why his earlier affections had been so cold. She had never promised she would wait for him, but she had never planned for anyone else. First love is love at first sight, and Etienne could never know how deeply betrayed she felt; words were poor relations to the treasures of her affection for him. Gary's love was mere pelf.

Where she had hated him for glacial indifference to her ardor, her soul now mourned his unrequited love, with the emotional repugnance of one who loved him with physical desire of her own. Rather than deform her heart with malevolence, she threw herself into her schoolwork, taking time to match make artfully amongst her friends. Her intellect was not defective, and by being outside herself, she could see thoughts and feelings in others with a surreal clarity unknown to others her age.

Her purity of spirit, and emotional seclusion, made her irresistible, to peer and Professor alike. She was a vixen, and if she knew how to slay a man with a look, she did not know how not to.

Chapter 10

Etienne's plane touched down at 4 PM. By 7 O'clock, he had exchanged his dollars, and was at a mall, purchasing a black hoody, and a pair of new black Jeans. His next purchase was a baseball bat, which he found at a novelty sports shop. Next, a large wicker chair, of the out-door kind, for patio furniture. Then off to the grocers, for a large bottle of ketchup. Next stop, a pharmacy, where he purchased a box of disposable latex gloves, and a large tub of Vaseline. And finally, a visit to the hardware store, for a can of spray paint. The proprietor glanced askance at using a passport for identification, but sold it to him nonetheless. By the time his taxi pulled up at a speak easy in a disreputable part of London, it practically looked like a Camel.

He thanked the cabby, and only let him go after he had inquired closely, as to directions to the American Embassy. He paid for the room for 4 hours, and asked the attendant where he could find a lady of easy virtue. With phone number in hand, he found himself in a small room, with barely room to turn around. He had specified ground floor, and he spent the first hour beating the seat out of the wicker chair, with the baseball bat.

This was no easy task. To impact the seat of the chair, he had to strike with the end of the bat, and this jarred his arms with every blow. There is a reason that ball players speak of a “sweet spot,” and these blows could not be delivered by that part of the bat. He stopped after 20 minutes for a breather, and when he went back to work, he was breathing heavily. When he was finished, he took a shower, and changed into the black outfit.

By 1 AM, he had slept for an hour and a half, and called a cab. It was practically extortion, but he talked the man into dropping him at a destination about two blocks from the embassy, with a song and dance about returning the chair to an unreasonable ex-girlfriend. He had a pair of latex gloves in every pocket, with the spray paint and Vaseline in a paper bag. It was a chore, but he managed to place the chair in a dark part of the roadway half a block from the Embassy. He emptied the ketchup bottle into the middle, and smeared Vaseline generously around the tattered seat. He stopped, changing gloves, and then proceeded to spray paint the words, “FOR SARAH,” in large letters in front of it, using the florescent orange road marking paint he had obtained.

He surveyed his work for seconds, before departing, taking only the gloves and the can of spray paint. These he discarded at a “petrol station,” before catching yet another taxi to the airport. He slept fitfully in a chair by the boarding gate, until his return flight was ready for departure. He had hoped to feel joy; instead he felt grim satisfaction. His “graffiti” would be HARD to overlook.

In Sri Lanka, he mailed his parents a second post-card, before embarking on the final leg of his journey. His Canadian passport would show no evidence of his extra curricular activities, and he would tell his parents that he had run across a school mate on holiday, and gone to the game preserve in a moment of spontaneous joie de vivre.

He had not been home a day before he had ensured his fiction would be certified. He knew an upper class man who smoked, and it was an easy bargain to strike.

Now he must needs await his flame's response.

Chapter 11

Agent Echo was enraged. His daughter's virtue had been questioned, but in such a way that his own was intertwined. He knew what he had told Etienne, but who else knew? What secret soul was privy to his counsels? How had he been betrayed?

The grapevine was alive with the story, and Sarah's budding social expertise was tried by fire. Her father questioned her. She told him that she had never suggested anything to anyone about him. Her mother questioned her. Sarah assured her mother that, no, Dad never laid a hand on me. Delegated Embassy personnel questioned her, asking about the matter as delicately as possible, but from every angle they could imagine. No one could believe that she was the source of the story, but no one could imagine whom it might have been.

It was a nasty enigma.

Predictably, Etienne became her confidant. Agent Echo could never doubt his daughter's filial loyalty; while baring her soul to this lad in embarrassing detail, she remained true to family trust. He was so intimately informed, that he imagined he could have BECOME her lover, such was the candor of her confidence. Her Etienne became solicitous, and Agent Echo temporarily became sincere in his efforts in Etienne's stead.

Meanwhile, the other half of his brain was a smoking engine of fury. He labored to find a way to injure this upstart, with this intelligence. Yet he had already done his worst. To intimate the protest, would be to salve the anger that might be smoldering in the youth's imagination. Nor could Agent Echo satisfy his soul that the offense had not come from some other quarter. Had his missives been intercepted at the other end? Etienne's Sarah became sleazy and promiscuous. Boys became ineffectual in her letters; men became fickle.

Etienne smelled a rat!

Chapter 12

In addressing the fabrication of letters from Sarah, Etienne gave more thought to his next move than other teens might have done, but he had no “Grand Unification Theory” of how Gary's father was guilty of a crime. He could hardly even be sure that it was Mr. Arberton, and not some other miscreant.

Upon contemplation, Etienne decided that he did not want to tell his dad, because Mr. DuBois did not approve of Etienne's attentions to Sarah. Nor did he want to take his mother into his confidence; he had used his Canadian passport secretly to deceive her, and he didn't think a confession would go over very well. He reasoned that a Sarah who could confide statutory rape in him, would assuredly have remarked upon his graffiti. Whether she regarded it as validating her affections, OR she took offense, and deplored his disregard of her wishes as a blatant violation of her trust, the author of those letters did not know that it was he, who had defaced the Embassy neighborhood.

Etienne's response took the form of gossip to school friends. They knew Sarah, and he leaked it in conversation that she had gone missing.

“How did YOU hear about it, Etienne?” Miranda asked.

“Mutual friends in Sri Lanka,” he explained.

His plan did not have the desired result, but it was not completely unsuccessful. The son of a British diplomat asked his parents. They soon checked, and by contacting Mr. Arberton, the Britons brought the story to his attention. Agent Echo had no difficulty in discerning Etienne's motive. That little Canadian bastard, he thought. I'll have to teach him yet another lesson. Agent Echo made his displeasure felt in two ways.

Etienne soon found himself in detention, scrawling out impositions:

I will not lie to the principle

I will not lie to the principle...

...600 times!

However, of more import to Etienne's long term well being, Detective Hubble got another inquiry about an Etienne DuBois. Was there a record of Etienne transiting Heathrow any time recently? Sure enough, the name “popped” after a few days investigation. He was curious to observe that the previous report had been about a Canadian national, and this traveler presented American papers. Trouble on that one for sure, he thought.

Hubble was able to confirm “suspicious activity,” but gave no details. “We cannot discuss an ongoing investigation,” was the standard disclaimer.

Agent Echo gloated silently. “The plot thickens,” he thought.

Chapter 13

Etienne's letters to Sarah began to die away, and he could do no more for five long years. His college years found him at University of California, Berkeley, toiling away at a Mathematics degree. He had long forgotten about his early Canadian citizenship. His dad had predictably blown up, when he found out that Etienne certified American citizenship, but when the row died down Mr. DuBois turned his real ire upon his wife, Etienne's mother. For the rest of his life, Etienne would hate domestic disputes.

But these days, Sunday mornings found him warming a pew at the local church, and scoping for the future Mrs. DuBois.

By now, Agent Echo had occupied postings in France, Sweden and presently could be found in Germany. But he had not been negligent of his malice. A calendar date brought Etienne's eighteenth birthday to his attention. He made a phone call, and in far away Berkeley, Eteinne made the new acquaintance of an FBI agent, named Wilbur.

Wilbur was overtly affable, and he often sat next to Etienne in the Church where they met. With a listening ear, and a ready remark, Wilbur was soon conversant with the prominent themes in Etienne's world views. In return, he confided in Etienne that there was an ultra-secret Lutheran order represented amongst the Church. These zealots reported to the Missouri Synod.

He described recruitment practices whereby women sleep with unwary male members, then report to male zealots, who move in to blackmail the victims for tithes and other favors. “It's a secret order though. You won't find anything in the official literature of the Missouri Synod. It's just not their way.”

Two weeks later, “Wilbur” was mysteriously posted to Seattle. He made abbreviated goodbye's and left Etienne bemused. Nevertheless, with a ready wit and a protective instinct, Etienne began unthinkingly to stand sentinel against a secret Lutheran order.

In Missouri, no one had heard of the secret order, because none existed. It was a fabrication for Etienne's benefit. But eighteen months later, when Etienne's friends began treating him strangely, his mind lighted on this cult as a possible reason, and began to watch for them in earnest.

Etienne's friends were treating him strangely for another reason. One by one, each was getting a “private” visit from other “FBI” officers. With cheap suits and dark glasses, they explained apologetically that Eitenne's name had come up in the course of an investigation into espionage. He was believed to be cooperating with foreign powers, and would they please tell the authorities if they noticed anything that was truly incriminating.

Etienne's dating life became, if possible, even more fruitless. It wasn't all that often that he actually set his cap for someone, but when he did, the rebuffs became predictable. He had good hygiene and good character, so each time he was forced to conclude that she was simply, “not for him.” In languishing romantically, his thoughts returned more and more often to Sarah Arberton.

At the local Cathedral, the men made no pretense, as they stood single file in line for absolution.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

The Vatican's involvement was very prestigious for the local Diocese.

Chapter 14

Meanwhile, in his academic career, Etienne was garnering straight A's. He had chosen mathematics as a major, because he hated doubt and disagreement. In Math, he reasoned, there should be little enough of either. His hatred of domestic disputes manifested by changing the channel, if characters erupted in complaint. He simply could not abide Jerry Springer, and his classmates chuckled over his gentle sensibilities.

Being gifted with logic, Etienne found he had a natural affinity for computers. Combining with a lackluster dating life, Etienne began to “help” female upper classmen with their programming assignments. His attention to ethics was lax, and soon more than one instructor was able to recognize that these assignments were beyond the abilities of the students who presented them as original effort. Nothing could be shown definitively, but in the teachers lounge, they passed remarks that eventually came to the attention of the Dean of Students. He knew that Etienne played “fast and loose” with the rules, and since he couldn't accuse him of his actual offense, the Dean resolved to make Etienne pay for it in other ways. Imagine the Dean's vindication, when the school received a letter, on official looking letterhead, that Etienne was “under investigation.” The letter explained that since Etienne was a gifted mathematician, he might seek employment with the NSA, and would the Dean be pleased to discourage his major.

Etienne's assignments became harder than they had to be. Tutors began to have difficulty fitting him in to their schedule. His examinations were graded ruthlessly, and with a jaundiced eye. Etienne regarded these hardships as a challenge, and strove to surmount the adversity, but by his Junior year, Etienne could no longer sustain the burden. He thanked the school for an Associate of Arts degree, in Liberal Arts, and left school in misery and disgrace.

No one told him why. No one gave him succor. Few even spoke.

At Missouri Synod headquarters, the Senior Pastor opened a letter from an anonymous well wisher.

Dear Sirs:

Etienne DuBois, of Berkeley California, is spreading libelous reports that the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod has a secret order of spies. He is most disparaging of Luther, and may need “special attention.”

In California, Etienne's Lutheran supervisor began to schedule his hours back. His training became perfunctory, and he was given no real avenue of advancement.

Etienne's prayers became tearful and fervent. His very soul cried out. “Will anyone ever hear?” he wondered.

Chapter 15

In Langley, Virginia, a small class of recruits at CIA Headquarters were individually called aside. Trained in human rights advocacy, they were tasked to write incendiary articles in English language blogs, for China. The double blind email account was to be “indianna.scout@yahoo.com.” Without knowing it, Etienne's creatively chosen online moniker was about to go “to the show.”

Later, over drinks at the local Golf Course, Father Frank was grateful for the favor. “It makes an excellent cover,” the agent assured him. “It was no problem at all. Ask me anytime.”

x-x-x-x-x

In Berkeley, a live-in couple asked Etienne to accompany them on a day trip to San Francisco. Along the way, they discussed government employment. Yes, Etienne was willing to work for the Government, but he had no degree as of yet. Yes, he could imagine that there were people whose sole purpose was to function as a deniable cover for operatives overseas. Yes, he would be interested in dating their friend, Gina. She was still a virgin? He did not laugh with them. He was still a virgin, too.

Needless to say, the “date” never materialized. But that was NOT because there was no “Gina.”

Gina Campbell was told that Etienne DuBois wanted to take advantage of her, because she was a virgin. They could not, in good conscience, recommend that she go out with HIM!

Later that week, the two were talking to Father Mike.

You were right, they agreed with him. He's a lone wolf, who only wants a cushy Government job where he can never get fired. No one like that should be considered as a Courier for the Bishop's office. In fact, now that you mention it, there are hardworking HONEST people who need the work far more. We can't even recommend him as a landscaper.

X-x-x-x-x

At his new posting, in Iceland, Etienne's dad was being led to believe that Etienne was a homosexual, just as Sarah had been. Without sophistication, Mr. DuBois sat down and furiously wrote his now estranged wife:

Dear Madam DuBois:

Your son has blighted my career, and ruined my reputation twice as much as you did.

He is now a practicing homosexual, and I have no interest in contacting him any further.

I do not have a son.

Yours Sincerely,

Kevin DuBois

Meanwhile, Etienne got a thumb drive in the mail from the classmate who certified his alibi back in the days of his Sri Lanka-Heathrow junket. It contained pornographic bestiality, with the note: “Guess what your Dad's into these days.”

He threw it away in disgust. His mother's letter, suggesting that he retain the services of an escort, was even more discouraging.

Prolonged isolation was having its effect on Etienne, and he was becoming neurotic. He replied to his mother that he would use the money for a therapist, if she would be kind enough to send it.

Three weeks later, he sat across from Dr. Menendez. He did not enjoy the veiled references to masturbation. Dr. Menendez seemed to have a LOT of gall! Yet if there WAS a God, Etienne mused, he was a genuine bastard.

Chapter 16

Chapter 16.

One year later, Etienne was scraping by, working odd jobs and driving a beat up old Cadillac. Agent Echo had failed in his bid for the Beijing posting, and was re-assigned to CIA Headquarters, in Langley. The Pope was insisting on more detailed information from online accounts, and the only way to get it was with warrants. To satisfy this ever growing thirst for information, Agent Echo conceived a joint operation with the NSA. Now, if he needed a warrant, the story to the judge would be that this new person was the subject of an investigation of a hard to prove conspiracy. Piece by piece, the patchwork of lies grew up, like a tent erection. There were no concrete leads, except historical ties back to the child hood of... Etienne DuBios.

Rather than arrest Etienne, and give him opportunity to clear his name, Etienne was put under surveillance, 24/7. Serious FBI agents, and CIA trade craft classes found employ in diligently documenting his visits to Taco Bell, and WalMart, week after week. When interest dwindled, Agent Echo would trot out some new application of the Beale Cipher, or point out that Etienne appeared to have secret ties with the Catholic Church. A class never lasted two years, and by the time a given boss might see the pattern repeat, the (now very senior) Agent Echo could promote him or extinguish his career at a whim. By the time Echo was forced to “cut other Catholics in” on the affair, the commitment was practically its own institution. Etienne was in no danger of coming to trial. In fact, if a move were made to that end, the ad hoc conspiracy of Catholics were so numerous that they could not have done so if they tried. There was too much power, money and influence invested in tertiary activities.

Etienne now faced the ire of foreign despots, and he was occasionally informed of their ill intent, if any “reached out” to engage the indianna.scout of yahoo.com. He did not get a memo, and no one ever said “Etienne, don't trust that person – he's a foreign operative.” Rather, some person who must needs speak to him anyway, in the course of normal business, mentioned that INS was looking for a given individual, or that a man cheated in business matters. They might say it was patent violations, or human trafficking. However he was warned, Etienne knew not to fraternize, without being given specifics.

The years of poverty and ill repute were draining his life away, when Etienne found the body.

Chapter 17

One of Etienne's solitary pursuits was Still Lifes. One Thursday afternoon found him walking through ankle high bluebonnets, with his small camera and a cheap tripod. He had a sketch pad, too, to record what he was inspired to seek on future occasions. On this occasion, he topped a low ridge, strolling away from the highway, to discover the corpse of a large black man, lying face down in a ditch. He pulled up short in shock. He was not horrified, but he was not morbidly fascinated. He set down his camera and tripod, and reached for his cell phone. It was the work of a moment to discover that there was no service in the area.

Etienne cast about for his bearings, and then set off back to the car, leaving his camera and tripod behind to mark the spot. If it was not a smart decision, he could be forgiven for lacking an established procedure on what to do when finding dead bodies. It was a goodly drive back to town, and he put $15.00 worth of gas in the car, before arriving at the police station. There was surprisingly little response to his report. The officer who took his report handed him a card, with a report number on it, but questioned him persistently about exactly how to find the location. For the umpteenth time, Etienne repeated the mile marker, and that he would lead the officer back to the body; he had left his camera and tripod there, to mark the spot.

When the words crossed his lips, the demeanor of the officer changed. “You mean to say that you've been taking PICTURES?” he asked, incredulously.

“No sir. I do Still Lifes. Flowers and such. I just found the body when I was out casting about for a subject.” Etienne could not believe that the officer would doubt him.

For his own part, the officer had to consider if this was not, in fact a serial killer, seeking attention. Etienne might well be growing tired of trophies, and be in the very act of “escalating.” However, the officer could not arrest Etienne on suspicion alone, so he agreed to allow Etienne to lead him back to the spot. Etienne had no gas money. Rather than beg, he used the limited social skills of a man who lived without friends, to ask the police officer if he could ride in a squad car. This suited the officer. Etienne could not flee, if he was dependent on the policeman himself for transportation.

By 3 o'clock in the afternoon, Etienne and two police officers returned to the site, where the second officer was able to confirm the private speculations of the first; Etienne had indeed been out there prepared to take photographs. Now that there was no possibility of wasting a Detective's time, the radios came out, and the crime scene tape went up. Etienne had been asked to wait in the squad car, and Officer Durham returned his camera to him with the observation that he could have his camera card back when it was no longer evidence in an ongoing investigation. Etienne was slightly surly. “I'm not exactly made of money,” he complained. “That's a Compact Flash card. They don't give those things away like potato chips!”

When he finally got home, it was 11 o'clock at night, and he was exhausted from answering so many questions. He had finally been able to convince the police that he lived in town, but his references had hardly satisfied them. He did not know it, but the entire United States' system of jurisprudence was about to go on trial.

Chapter 18

The Chinese say that “In all adversity, there is opportunity.” By this, they imply that if one must take responsibility for a statement or action, one may logically ask for the latitude and authority to correct it. However, adversity does not guarantee that one will not make a mistake in doing so. Etienne was about to get the opportunity to correct a mistake.

In trekking about the murder site, the police soon stumbled upon more human remains. Before all was said and done, the remains of four bodies were discovered, and the San Francisco FBI officer who took over the investigation randomly included one of Etienne's oppressors on his team. However, these were no longer the early days of Agent Echo's accusations. The number of people who knew that the accusation was false was only a handful in the entire organization. For the rest, he was a spy who had also been found out as a serial killer. The stories began to be told.

“They tried to help him out by giving him a job at the Diocese...”

“My friends tried to get me a date with him, but the pervert wanted a virgin. Can you imagine?”

“We always knew he was trouble. The police have been investigating him forever. I'm glad he's caught.”

“...was an academic cheat to begin with. His obvious native intelligence must have qualified him very well for a life of crime.”

No one really thought that Agent Echo would need to know, and therefore no one made any move to stop the investigation. The Pope had long been informed that Etienne had become an online provocateur, seeking to overthrow the Chinese Government.

The facts that must come in to evidence before Etienne could be found guilty would make a sorry tale, but in the mean time, people began to point him out to their children, and warn them not to talk to him. Notoriety did not result in a better social life.

Chapter 19

The preponderance of the evidence was that Etienne was a “lone wolf,” and a criminal. In jail, he was in despair. He could not imagine any solution to his woes. He could not even number them. He begged for office supplies, and began to pen a tragedy.

As a cautionary tale, it was a failure. There was no real explanation as to how others could escape the same fate, even if they identified with the problems of his putative hero.

(Part one of sequel at World Wide Tent.)

Epilogue

World Wide Tent, published in parts, takes up the tale of Etienne's rescue.