Caught Unaware

Chapter 17

FLASHBACK--1994

OFFICE OF COL. JAMES KELLER

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED NSA TRAINING OFFICE

"Loved ones get hurt, Casey," Keller said, encircling the seated body of Casey, listening to his instructor.

"This is a fact we must live with should we ever get attached to anyone. But being attached means getting close, forming feelings and bonds, letting yourself be open and vulnerable. You are first a fighter, Casey. This is something you must never let out of your head."

Casey looked up as his superior seated himself on the corner of his cherry desk, placing his hands on his lap.

"I think the best course of action, Colonel, is to not let myself form attachments," Casey replied. Knowing he would never have friends and loved ones was part and parcel to accepting the position in the NSA Black Ops team.

"Son, don't fool yourself into thinking this will never happen to you. It happens to all of us. You're human same as me. But in our position, we need to be thinking differently, being different on the inside. Otherwise we are dead meat," emphasized the Colonel. Casey sighed.

"Getting attached would mean being emotionally compromised should the object of said feelings be jeopardized. That's how the bad guys win."

"Exactly!" shouted Keller, slapping his palm against the desk.

"So, how do we get past it?" asked Casey, knowing that the Colonel wouldn't have an answer, that there was no way you would never be emotionally compromised if something happened to someone you loved.

"Let's say you go undercover on assignment, and your cover is as a married man. You fall in love with your partner or whatnot. Now, don't say it's impossible because it happens everyday, my boy. But let's say one day you come home and the house is ransacked and you find blood on the floor. You've been with this person for about 4 or 5 years undercover, living as a married couple and possibly been in real life love for just as long.

"So you come in, blood all over and your lover is gone. What do you do?"

Casey thought for a moment before answering.

"I assume I call my superior to notify them of the situation and wait for instructions. And if said instructions include me going after them, I'll grab the biggest gun I have and find the mother that took my lover," Casey folded his arms over his chest and relaxed in his chair, confident in his answer.

Keller pointed a gun at him, cocking the hammer back and sighted directly at Casey's chest. Casey sat up in defense mode and reached up to disarm his superior in a lightning move.

"They found your mother's home destroyed, all cash, jewelry and even your mother is gone. There's blood on the walls, Casey." Keller never let up on the aim, even though his voice spoke heavily with sympathy.

Casey sat back hard, his blood rushing from his face as he felt a surge of helplessness wash over him. His mother. Was she dead? Who did it?

"And you're dead, son."

Casey looked up at Keller, who uncocked the hammer and replaced it into the holster.

"Your mother is fine, boy. Let's put that to rest."

Casey let out a huge breath and then wiped his eyes.

"But you were in a position to disarm me. You could have turned it around and had me subdued in seconds." Casey looked curiously at Keller.

"How would anyone have reacted differently. You just said people have attachments, that it's unavoidable. How could anyone think clearly when a bomb has been dropped on them like that?"

"You really want to know?" Keller asked, sliding off his desk to seat himself in the chair behind it. Casey nodded cautiously.

"Meditation."

Casey looked at his superior, waiting for the punchline.

"Meditation is for hippies, Colonel," said Casey, almost laughing at the idea.

"I'm not talking about a circle-jerk where unwashed bodies are singing 'Kumbaya' on the ground with their lungs full of wacky-weed. I'm talking about directing your mind, training it, making it know something that it wouldn't know on its own." Casey was quiet for a moment. He thought about the words his Colonel was saying, and curiosity began to get the better of him.

"My mother is missing, Colonel," said Casey. "How do I think? What do I do?"

Keller nodded. This one was a quick learner.

"You go to an enclosed place. And you imagine the worst that could happen to her. Bloody pieces strewn across the yard. Buried alive. Burned alive. Tortured. Imagine her dying with her screaming your name on her lips. Imagine her being bludgeoned to death with a hammer, hung by the neck with a weight around her ankles. Imagine them mailing you her thumb, an ear, an entire leg. You imagine the worst that could happen. And then you stop. And you count to ten. And you remember my words, boy," Keller paused, making sure his subject was taking this advice all in.

"Until you see a body, she's still alive. She's still alive, Casey. That woman is still alive."

"Why would I do that to myself?" asked Casey. "Why would I make myself see those horrible things just to give myself encouragement? It seems counter-intuitive, Colonel. With all respect."

"You see the worst so if the best outcome happens, you better appreciate the person. If you see the worst and the worst happens, you get over the shock quickly and you can act decisively. You see the worst so you can find your center...and get the bastards responsible.

"It's all about keeping a level head, boy. A level head means survival."