Pillow Talk Chapter Three
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Mike sat down at his computer and logged in. Following his normal morning procedure, he opened his e-mail. Much to his surprise, he found that there was a message from root with the title, ‘An Important Intelligence Assessment.’ He clicked on the message and nearly fell out of his chair when he read the first two lines of it.
The email laid out the full intelligence estimate concerning a pending attack against the United States. Details about what groups were active in the states, what messages had been intercepted, and the kinds of activities that might be attempted were presented for all to read. Mike could see his own contributions to the assessment and the thought that others might recognize it sent chills down his spine. It was signed as originating from the leadership of the Intelligence 100.
Sanjay stuck his head inside Mike’s cubicle. Wide-eyed, he asked, “Did you read the e-mail from root?”
“Yes, I did,” Mike answered.
He looked at the screen and wondered who had signed onto the computer as the administrator and sent out the e-mail under that account. He looked at the message a little more carefully and saw that it was sent out of the White House. Someone at the NSA must have had a little fun during the night.
“This is very bad,” Sanjay said. He was informed enough to know that the assessment presented was accurate.
“Yes, it is,” Mike said not referring to the content of the message when he agreed with Sanjay. He thought it was bad that the Intelligence 100 had broken cover.
Sanjay said, “I’m going out to the telephone to tell my wife not to go anywhere today.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mike said.
The rest of the morning was spent listening to rumors about who the Intelligence 100 might be. Mike didn’t say a word, but listened as the speculations ran rampant. A few people didn’t know that root was the name of the administrative account on UNIX servers. As a result, there were a lot of people speculating that the user name root was significant somehow.
The atmosphere in the lunch room was very subdued. The normal distribution of groups was spread out around the room. The Chinese were eating together at a collection of tables. The Indians were eating together at another group of tables. Mike carried his tray past the tables and shook his head. In light of the email, he thought it was very stupid for them to isolate themselves from their coworkers like that.
On reaching the table, he sat where he could watch the rest of the room. Sanjay came out of the food service area carrying his tray. He walked past the Indian tables and headed over to the table where Mike was seated. Mike was pleased that Sanjay had decided to break with tradition, but knew it would cost him.
When Sanjay put his tray on the table next to Mike, a number of eyes turned to watch. Sanjay sat down and said, “I have decided to join you for lunch today.”
“That’s nice. How’d your wife take the news to stay home?” Mike asked.
Sanjay shook his head and said, “She is not very happy. She’s been scared for a long time. Now she’s terrified.”
“I know what you mean,” Mike said.
Another Indian walked by and said something to Sanjay. Mike didn’t know what had been said, but the expression on Sanjay’s face suggested that it wasn’t very nice. Sanjay rose from his chair and turned to face the tables filled with Indians.
Furious, he said, “Never speak to me in Gujrati again. I am an American. I sit with my coworker because we are fighting an enemy that wants to kill us! We are brothers in arms in a war against evil men!”
The entire room turned to stare at Sanjay.
Ignoring the attention he was receiving, he said, “You sit over there thinking you are so great and important. You are not! You are scum who think you are better than Americans. Every American in this room is fighting to save the lives of three hundred million of our fellow citizens and yet you chose to separate yourself from them. I say again, you are scum!”
Turning to face the Chinese, Sanjay pointed at them as he said, “You are just as bad. You sit over there speaking Chinese and keeping your words secret from the people with whom you work. Bah! No wonder no one trusts you. You don’t even have the decency to talk in English where everyone can understand what you say.
“You Arabs over there,” Sanjay shouted while pointing at another table, “Either you join the fight against the terrorists or get out of here. You sit together speaking in Arabic while men who look and talk just like you are planning to kill us. You bastards! Are you trying to kill us? I don’t know because I can’t understand a damned word that you are saying.
“We had more than fifty spies taken out of here last week. Where did they sit at lunch? There, there, and there,” Sanjay said pointing at the tables. He stood up straight and said, “Why should I trust you? You disdain the men and women who were born in this country. You harbored spies at your tables. For all I know, you are spies!
“You might have American citizenship, but you aren’t Americans. I know it! Every American in the room knows it! It’s time you became a member of this country or go back to where you were born. Join your coworkers at their tables and start earning their trust because you don’t have it. Stop speaking foreign languages that allow you to keep secrets from others. If you don’t, I promise you that you’ll never be trusted in this organization again,” Sanjay said.
Holding up his sandwich, he said, “Starting today, I am going to eat my American lunch with my American friends. I am an American, and I’m proud of it!”
As Sanjay went to sit down, the applause started. Within seconds it was deafening. Mike was the first to stand, but others around the room quickly joined him. Sanjay had said what many of them believed. Those individuals seated at the tables at which Sanjay had pointed shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Most of them looked embarrassed. Sanjay looked very embarrassed at the attention, but he appreciated the support.
Under his breath, he said, “That was for you, Donald.”
Sanjay pushed the glass of Scotch around on the bar. He ran a finger through the wet spots left by the glass. He said, “I got a little carried away.”
“No, you said something that needed to be said,” Mike replied with a smile. He took a sip of his beer and chuckled thinking back to the stunned faces around the cafeteria.
“Do you think I will get suspended?” Sanjay asked worried that his actions were going to get him fired. Donald had been fired for saying even less.
Shaking his head, Mike said, “No. I think that those days are over. The guys who were using political correctness to eliminate analysts are gone. I don’t think people will react too well if you have any problems.”
“You reassure me,” Sanjay said. He took a sip of his Scotch and chuckled. He said, “My wife is going to be very surprised when I tell her what I did. I may have to spend the night where the dog sleeps.”
Mike laughed and said, “You mean the doghouse.”
“Yes, the doghouse. That is where I’ll be sleeping tonight.”
Not having met Sanjay’s wife, Mike was convinced that she ruled the house with an iron fist. He said, “Tell her that she doesn’t need to worry about your job. You won the respect of hundreds of people today. That’s not quite right. You earned their respect today.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“That was a brave thing you did, today,” Mike said.
“I was more angry than brave,” Sanjay said. When Utpal had asked him why he was bothering to sit with the Americans, Sanjay had gotten angry. He’d heard a number of the Indians talking about sending their families back home; meaning by that, to India. It was at that moment when he realized that very few of them considered themselves Americans.
“Very few brave acts occur when people are calm and relaxed. It requires a lot of emotion to be brave. Anger is often a great source of emotion that can be channeled to good ends,” Mike said looking down at his twisted left hand. He knew all about doing extraordinary things while angry.
Thinking about it that way made Sanjay feel a lot better. The conversation changed to topics much less emotional like fishing and barbecues. The conversation died when Mike looked over at the television set playing in the bar. The evening news was on. Splashed across the screen was the caption, ‘Spies Freed.’
In a sharp voice, Mike said, “Bartender, turn up the sound.”
Stunned, Mike and Sanjay listened to the news report that the President had released the spies so that they could return to their home countries. The news commentator on the station was talking about what a grand gesture it was and how it would help reduce international tensions.
Mike said, “That man is like Nero. He’s playing the fiddle while Rome burns.”
Sanjay said, “My neighbor has a son who has a pet rat. I hate rats very much. They are filthy animals that spread disease. I always tell my neighbor how much I hate his rat. I think that at this moment I like that rat better than the President.”
The full implications of the President’s actions crashed down on Mike. He leaned over and, in a very soft voice, asked, “Do you have a gun?”
“No,” Sanjay answered looking at Mike with wide eyes.
Mike pulled a twenty out of his wallet and put it on the bar. It was more than enough to cover the Scotch and a beer. He said, “Come with me. We need to get home right now.”
Sanjay followed Mike out of the bar. Mike pulled Sanjay over to his car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a pistol that was wrapped it in a towel. He unwrapped it and checked out the pistol. His twisted hand made it difficult. Handing the package over to Sanjay, he said, “Take this home with you. It’s loaded with a round in the chamber, but the safety is on. Don’t open the door to anyone unless you know who it is, and you trust them. If someone tries to break in, turn the safety off, cock the hammer, and put as much lead into them as possible.”
“What’s the matter?” Sanjay asked staring at the package in his hand. He wasn’t sure that he could use the gun.
“Chang is out! He’s been freed, and I know for a fact that he’s a killer,” Mike answered.
Thinking about what would happen if Chang thought he was the one who had turned him in, Sanjay felt sick to his stomach. His forehead broke out in a sweat when he recalled what Chang had shouted from the holding area.
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