Blinding Fear by Bruce Roland Read Free Book Online

where he helped plan the assassinations of insurgent leaders using signal intelligence, the CIA came calling. They wanted him to plan and actually carryout assassinations wherever necessary—including within U.S borders. He’d taken to his new job with great relish. So much so that his bosses had to “counsel” him on his occasionally excessive violence. Then the FBI asked for help with a new assignment: one that would be his most challenging; one that could literally effect billions of people.
    He broke out of the past to remind himself how much he’d enjoyed his trip to the National Security Agency’s “Intelligence Community Comprehensive National Cybersecurity Initiative Data Center.” He almost laughed out loud every time he even heard the pompous and ridiculously officious name. Some had tried to come up with an acronym but eventually given up. Now, the intelligence pros who worked there simply called it the Utah Data Center. It had been his first visit to the massive, 1.5 square mile, $1.7 billion site where the NSA ostensibly “collected,” “stored” and “processed” signal intelligence from its vast array of passive and active, human and electronic resources worldwide.
    Although he saw only a tiny percentage of the security employees during his trips into and out of the highly secured complex, he was always impressed by their professionalism and thoroughness in their dealings with him. In spite of his multiple trips they always treated him as if they’d never seen him before: carefully checking his IDs, cross-checking him against that days expected non-employee arrivals, and searching his car with extreme thoroughness, before finally admitting him.
    His third-day arrival was no different.
    He pulled up to the 12 foot-high steel entrance gate. A stone-faced guard, wearing a Beretta APX semiautomatic pistol on his hip, stepped out of a heavily reinforced door to the guard post and approached the car. Knowing the drill, Gnash released the trunk and engine latches before stepping out, silently handing the guard his IDs and briefcase. The man took them without comment, and returned to his post. At the same time two other guards started going over the C-300 with various sensors, mirrors and flashlights. After a few minutes they were satisfied and returned inside just as the first guard returned with Gnash’s IDs and briefcase.
    “Everything seems to be in order, Agent Gnash. Have a good day, sir,” he said impassively.
    Gnash said nothing in response as he carefully folded his 6 foot, 5 inch, 230 pound frame back into the Mercedes. He was still somewhat irked at the guard’s butchering of his last name the first time he came through. He’d pronounced it with a hard G.
    He eased past the now-opening gate into the sally port. He stopped a few feet inside, in front of a second gate while the first closed behind him. A few seconds later the second gate opened and he was able to continue. The sally port and other much stricter security measures were relatively new. They’d been implemented not long after a garishly colored blimp owned by far-left-leaning political activists flew near the facility taking pictures. The photos and subsequent publicity had inspired other activists to try to get inside the buildings. After one was caught inside the main foyer with video glasses a security crackdown began in earnest.
    As he continued his slow drive toward the complex’s parking lot he passed a massive sign:
National Security Agency
    Utah Data Center
    Speed Limit 10 MPH
    Authorized Personnel or Visitors Only
    Visitors Must Park in Designated Spaces Only
    Identification Badges Must Be Worn At All Times
    Visitors May Be Searched Without Warning
    All Areas Subject to Continuously-Monitored Video Surveillance
    Use of Cell Phones or Other Electronic Recording Devices Strictly Forbidden
    Deadly Force Pre-Authorization in Place at All Times
    He smiled grimly, admiring the draconian tenor of the sign, keeping very