The last chapter. Auggie's made it back to work at the DPD. I hope that you've enjoyed Auggie's journey as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
Disclaimer: Don't own Auggie, just my characters.
Chapter Seventeen – A New Beginning
Auggie reached over onto his nightstand and located his alarm clock. His fingers quickly located the speak button and pressed it. The mechanical voice intoned, "4:47 AM." He groaned loudly. It was the third time he'd woken this night—more like early morning. He was more nervous about what was going to happen later in the day than he'd thought. At 9:00 AM he had an appointment with Joan. But first he had to go to Human Resources and get vetted once again. Today was going to be his first day back at work. He guessed that the part of him that was scared to death was overwhelming the part that was eager to get back to something productive in his life. He'd spoken to Joan several times in the little over a week he'd been back from Glencoe.
He was coming back at a slightly higher pay grade and at the same security level as when he'd left a bit over ten months ago. He knew his security clearance would be subject to a higher level if warranted. And, in the most general of terms, they'd discussed his new duties and responsibilities. He was now considered 'management' and had people working for him, not with him. Joan was still his boss, though.
Three hours to D-hour. Two hours until he had to leave for Langley. Before he might have - weather permitting - gotten ready and rode his Harley around for a while before heading in to work. Today – today he had a car service scheduled to pick him up at 6:45 AM. It didn't take two hours to shower, dress and go to the café for a bite of breakfast. Even though he'd probably not eat, his stomach had butterflies the size of eagles flittering in it. And trying to fall back to sleep was no longer an option.
He rose and straightened up his bed a bit before heading into the bath. A quick shower and shave calmed his nerves a bit. Routine was good for that. On one of her home visits, Jane had assisted him in identifying and discreetly tagging his clothes. Last evening he'd gone through suits, ties and dress shirts and put together what he hoped was a dashing combination – dark grey suit, white shirt and dark purple and lavender striped tie. He dressed slowly – deliberately prolonging the time it took. From long habit, tie in hand, he moved to stand before the full-length mirror on the wall at the end of his closet. After flipping his collar up, he placed the tie around his neck. As many times as he'd tied a tie, today the motions were not producing the desired results. In frustration he yanked the tie from around his neck and began again. This time he closed his eyes and let the picture in his mind's eye guide his hands. Success. He snugged up the knot and then put his collar back down. Checking his watch he sighed – still more than an hour before the car would be by to pick him up.
Grabbing up his apartment key and cane from their resting place on the end of the kitchen island, he headed out the door. A few minutes later he was sitting in his usual booth in the local diner. He ordered coffee and dry wheat toast. That was about all he thought that he could stomach this morning.
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Promptly at 9:00 he sat in Joan's office, new security badge firmly clipped to the right front pocket of his dress slacks. His meeting with HR had gone quickly and smoothly. Even the mandatory polygraph session had gone well. He was back in. Not that, he'd found out, he'd ever been out, only listed as out on medical leave.
"For the first few days we're going to ease you back into the fold. Well, I don't know if ease is the right term, there's a file to the left of the keyboard on your desk with a Syrian code we've been trying to break for the last few weeks. We're hoping that a fresh set of eyes on it – sorry about that phrasing – "
"It's okay, Joan. See; saw; look; eyes those kinds of words and phrases are still in my vocabulary, too. I just have a different take on them these days. They are going to come up in normal conversation. It's much more awkward if everyone has to watch what they say around me for fear of offending me. I haven't gotten this far by being thin skinned." He gave Joan a gracious smile. He hoped that it put her at ease. "And in what form are the notes in that file on my desk?"
"Braille. Contracted Braille – whatever that is. We've gotten a lot of new toys in preparation for your return. Some of them are very expensive toys. But the hit to the budget is so worth it to have you back. You've been missed."
He heard the dismissal in her tone and rose to leave. Soon he was tapping his way across the catwalk, down the stairs and across the bullpen to his new space. He heard the sounds in the workspace below him quiet as soon as he started down the stairs. Not for the first time since he'd lost his sight he felt self-conscious. He had accepted that he would be the object of scrutiny when he returned, but it still bothered him. Halfway down the stairs he had the urge to make a witty comment, but none immediately came to him. Instead he mentally squared his shoulders and proceeded to his workspace with as much dignity as he could manage with the sudden quaking in his soul.
"Good morning, Mr. Anderson," someone said as he stepped through the door into the workspace he now shared with two other Tech Ops techs and their support person. He recognized the voice from when he and Marissa had been here a few weeks ago. He could not recall a name.
"Good morning," Auggie let the inflection in his voice indicate a question.
"Oh, sorry, I'm Stu."
"Good morning, Stu. It will take me a bit to associate your voice with a name. Are you the only one here now?"
"Yeah. Eric's coming in later today since he was here into the wee hours of the morning. And Shari should be back shortly. She went on a coffee run. Careful, that's where the cables run across the room."
Auggie adjusted his stride a bit and safely made it across the minor obstacle. It would probably take him a day or two to learn how many paces into the room it was. "Thanks. It will take me a day or two to learn where they are, but then, unless they sprout legs and move, I should be okay with them then."
Auggie's cane struck something metallic in about the spot that he remembered his desk should be. He felt for the object and was rewarded with the edge of a desk. A quick search to his right located a chair. He sat and folded his cane and laid it on the desk top to his right. He located the headphones that were, when he was here a few weeks ago, to the right of the keyboard and positioned them around his neck. With his left hand he reached out and located the computer tower and located the 'ON' button. Several minutes later, through his headphones he heard the computer voice indicate he was at the home screen a few minutes later. A few keystrokes and he was at the security login. He keyed in the password that Joan had given him just a few minutes before. Slowly he became aware that there were no sounds coming from Stu's work area. He hadn't heard the door into the work space open or close so Stu must still be in the room. Probably watching him.
"Stu, are you watching me?" he asked with more curiosity than irritation.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I was just curious about how the software and the thing hooked to your keyboard worked. I hooked it up and all of that, but I never had a chance to see how it all worked. And, I've never been around anyone who couldn't see."
There was an innocent honesty in Stu's words and tone. Auggie could find nothing in them to feel upset over. The door into the room opened and the smell of coffee wafted on the air currents.
"That must be Shari back with the coffee," Auggie announced.
"Yes, Mr. Anderson. It is," Shari said as she came closer to him. "Stu and I chipped in on what we hope is your favorite Starbucks coffee. Umm, how do I let you know where it is on your desk?"
"Stu. Shari. Pull up chairs and we'll have a quick get to know the blind guy session." He waited a few moments until he heard chairs being pulled up closer.
"First of all, please call me Auggie. Mr. Anderson is my father and even he prefers to be called Fred. Second, I'm blind. Blind is not a 'naughty word'. It's what I am. I'm blind ever since an unfortunate encounter with an IED in Iraq. You can use the words 'look' and 'see' and any other similar word around me. I use those words, too. They just mean something different to me now. Oh, if you want me to 'look' at something you'd best be prepared to place it in my hands or to describe it to me in detail.
"Shari, you asked how to tell me where things are. Set my coffee – and thank you very much for that – where you would if it were Stu here." He heard her set the cup down. Slowly he snaked his left hand out and quickly located the warm cup. "That was about my 10 o'clock. Anything right in front of me is either 12 or 6 o'clock – 12 is farther away than 6. Just like the face of a clock. To my right is 1-5 and to my left is 11-7. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Stu and Shari replied in unison.
"Good. There is one other very important thing to remember. Don't leave anything in the path between my desk and the door—chairs, skateboards, that sort of thing. My shins would appreciate not slamming into them. For a few days I will be moving around this space tentatively. I may even blunder into desks, chairs and work tables. But, before too long, I will learn where things are in here and then I will move about freely and you may even begin to forget that I'm not able to see." He grinned softly. "Stu wants to know how my 'toys' work. Shari, would you like to know, too?"
"Yeah, I would."
For the next few minutes Auggie explained how his software and special hardware worked. He even let them have a turn at using them. Then he dismissed them and opened the folder that Joan had left for him. He eagerly got to work on the Syrian Code.
It took him a good two hours to carefully read through the material that he'd been given. He still did not read Braille as efficiently as he once had print, but he no longer stumbled over the symbols. He'd started to go over the code for the second time when an idea began to form in the back of his mind. It couldn't be that simple, could it?
"Stu, what do we know about that Syrian cell?" He said over his shoulder in Stu's general direction.
"It should be in the file," Stu replied.
"All I got was a broad overview. I need the nitty-gritty details. Specifically, do we know if anyone in the cell was educated here in the States and is blind?"
"I don't know. Want me to go find out from Joan?"
"Not necessarily. Can you tell if she's in her office? Or in the bullpen somewhere?"
"She's in the bullpen talking to the officer who got the code in the first place."
"What's the officer's name?"
"Chet. Chet Woodson. His workspace is on the far side of the room and the third from this end."
The name of the officer did not ring any bells for Auggie. He may have seen him around the office at some point, but he could no longer know anyone from their appearance. Auggie rose and crossed to the door. Then out into the bullpen. Despite the urge to rush out to where Joan was, he moved slowly, deliberately, cane sweeping slowly before him.
"What's up, Auggie?" Joan asked as he got near to where he thought she'd be.
"What more can you tell me about the Syrian cell? Chet? Auggie Anderson, who may have just cracked your code." Auggie stuck out his hand in the direction he hoped that Chet was seated. A firm hand took his and pumped it a few times.
"I know who you are. Welcome back. What more do you need to know? I thought that I'd put everything pertinent in the summary that I had printed out for you," Chet said a bit defensively.
"It was a very good overview of the situation. No problems with what you gave me, but I could use more information about the cell members. Are any of them blind and American educated?"
"Yeah. The second in command lost his sight in an attack when he was very young. And he's Harvard educated. What's that got to do with deciphering their code?"
"Auggie? Is that important?" Joan asked.
"I've got to do a bit more studying, but that tidbit of information might just be the clue to breaking that code." Auggie turned to head back to his desk.
"Auggie, let's go have some lunch," Joan said authoritatively. "The code can wait for a bit."
"Yeah. Sure," Auggie said distractedly. His mind was already working on the code. Joan seemed to brush the back of his hand with her's deliberately. He tentatively took her arm. She did not flinch or shrink from his hand clutching her elbow.
"I did that right?"
"You mean touching my hand as an indication you were willing to be my guide?"
"Yes. Since there was a 'situation' the day that you and Marissa came to get the feel for the building again and I didn't really get a chance to talk with her, I called her a few days ago to see what tips she had for making you more comfortable here. That was one, the clock face stuff was another and just generally keeping stuff in the same place or letting you know if something's been moved and where to. Stuff like that. We had a staff meeting Friday afternoon. "
"So, the get-to-know-the-blind-guy session that I had this morning with Stu and Shari wasn't necessary?" He laughed quietly.
"No. Eric attended, but Stu was handling an officer out of country, and Shari wasn't here. So it wasn't wasted time by any means."
Eventually they snaked their way through the cafeteria line. Both selected – well, Auggie told Joan what he'd like for lunch and she'd placed one on his tray – chef salads.
Once their immediate appetites had been satisfied, Joan set her fork down and asked, "Auggie, how were you so easily able to come up with a solution to that code? Our best analysts came up blank on it."
Auggie finished chewing and swallowing his last bite before answering. "I'm not sure that I have solved it. But," he paused for a moment considering how to explain his thoughts, "I think it might be a numeric code based on the Braille alphabet. I noticed that there were only numbers 1-6 and 0, but no 7-9. I may be wrong, but it seemed like a possibility. More so once Chet told me that someone in the cell was blind and educated here in the States. Percentage wise there's not a lot of people in the world who know Braille, and I may be the only one in intelligence circles who does. It would be a good way to make the messages harder to decipher."
"Ah. I see. I knew that there was a good reason that you'd be an asset to us." He heard the pleasure in her voice. "Just didn't know that it would show itself on your first day back. Good job, Auggie. Good job."
"Now Joan, don't be patting me on the back quite yet. Right now it's just a theory. And even if it is I don't know if it's based on the English alphabet, Arabic, or some other language. Right now I only know English, math and computer Braille. If it's in Arabic it will take a bit for me to find the Braille code for Arabic and translate it," Auggie said cautiously. His confidence was waning at the thought that it could be in Arabic and what if another coding twist had been added, too.
"Your educated guess is closer than we've been in days. I have confidence in you. Now, let's finish our lunches so we can get back to work."
Later in the afternoon, Auggie cautiously walked toward Chet's desk with a print copy of the translated code in a folder. He had been lucky; the message had been in English and was based on the Braille cell. It took him very little time to translate the communiqué into a form that could be read by anyone.
"Joan," he said as he passed by where she was standing talking with another officer, "may I have a minute with you and Chet?" A self-satisfied smirk graced his features.
"Yes, Auggie. What is it?" She paused for a moment apparently reading his face and posture. "You've cracked the code!" she exclaimed. "Good for you. I knew that you would get it. Chet's left for the day. Come let's go back to your office and you can tell me all about it."
Back in his workspace, Auggie quickly put on his headphones and began keying in commands to the computer. He googled 'Braille Code'. From the results screen he selected and brought up the American Foundation for the Blind website's "Deciphering the Code" page. He used the visuals there to help Joan understand the basics of the Braille Cell and how it was used to form letters, numbers, and a bit about Grade 2 contractions. When she indicated that she understood, he went on to explain how he'd translated the message.
When he had finished, Joan patted him on the shoulder. "Do we need to teach Braille to our analysts now, too?"
Auggie smiled broadly. "It wouldn't hurt. I'll give you a source for materials for some of the analysts to educate themselves."
As Auggie rode home in the back of the car service vehicle, he felt, he almost hated to admit, content. He had been so nervous in the morning, and his first day back at work could not have gone better. His fears of appearing inept and bumbling had been unfounded. For a moment he thought that Joan had deliberately orchestrated the code to be in Braille so that he could have a success early on. He quickly dismissed that notion. He didn't really think that Joan would waste company time and resources like that. When he'd first begun his career in the CIA, he had thought that she was a cold and calculating bitch. She had turned out to be one of the few people whose advice and guidance he'd sought out. She had had confidence in him back then, and she had it now. He would try not to disappoint her.
Please let me know how you liked this last chapter and the whole story in general if you've not posted a comment before. It's been a journey for me, too. I've mostly enjoyed taking you on Auggie's journey.