there?”
I didn’t know what to say. “Give him the package before he leaves. If you can’t, lock it up in your drawer, and I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” I handed him the envelope and left him looking nervous.
That evening, Kevin called. He had waited until 6:30, he said, but Feghali was still in his office with Dickerson when he left. “I even wiggled the doorknob; he had the door locked. I could hear them whispering inside…. What time will you be in tomorrow?” I told him I would be there by ten. The situation was getting out of control; I decided to contact Saccher if this continued.
The next morning I arrived at ten o’clock sharp. I always started off the day by going through my e-mails and phone messages. Almost immediately, Kevin appeared at my desk, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
As we talked, I glanced at my screen and scanned e-mails. There was one from Feghali, sent the previous evening at 6:41 p.m., addressed to Kevin, Dickerson and me. “After reviewing your workload and projects under Saccher’s Counterintelligence division,” it began, “I’ve decided to divide the targets among the three of you, permanently. This will increase the efficiency of processing these lines.” Beneath this he listed the target ID numbers and the name of the translators assigned to them. I unlocked my drawer and pulled out Dickerson’s handwritten instruction: Feghali’s division scheme was identical to it. As a postscript, Feghali added, “Please do NOT discuss this with Special Agent Dennis Saccher. This decision does not concern him and I forbid you to discuss this with anyone but me. Also, from this point on you shall not meet with SA Saccher without notifying me first.”
Kevin’s face drained of all color. “Shit; I knew she had gotten to him. She’s been working on him since she arrived here…. Do you know how many behind-closed-door meetings they’ve had in the past month? Usually after hours? Shit!”
“I’ll give Feghali one more chance,” I replied. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll go to Saccher. Based on the bureau’s rules, Feghali is not even allowed to know about these targets, their names and their ID numbers …”
“Don’t underestimate Feghali,” Kevin said, deadly serious. “There are other things that you don’t know about, Sibel … let’s have coffee outside, I don’t want to talk about this here.”
I decided to hear Kevin out before giving Feghali the memo. When I got to the coffeehouse, Kevin was already there, looking rattled.
“Do you know how only agents are allowed to know and maintain informants’ and assets’ identities, contact information?”
I shook my head no. During my work I had not come across anything that involved procedures concerning FBI informants’ information, and wondered what this had to do with Feghali or Dickerson.
“Feghali has found a way to access that information,” Kevin continued. “I don’t know how. Also, according to Sarshar, Feghali has found a way to use and cash in on this information. Again, I don’t know how. I’m telling you what I’ve heard from several sources.” He went on to describe illegal transactions involving nepotism and other illicit activities, all of them disturbing. Kevin sounded afraid. He considered Feghali evil. “I won’t inform Saccher. I want to stay away from this shit.”
I looked him in the eye and told him he didn’t have a choice, that if we didn’t report this, we would be co-conspirators. “Like it or not, you’ve been exposed to this; you are a witness.” I sighed. “I’ll call Saccher tomorrow morning. This information on informants can be huge. Think about it: he could be selling that information to the targets. Do you know how much he can get for that—for ratting out FBI informants? Do you know that this can get some of these informants killed?!”
As I got up to leave, Kevin said he wanted to wait a few minutes; he
I didn’t know what to say. “Give him the package before he leaves. If you can’t, lock it up in your drawer, and I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” I handed him the envelope and left him looking nervous.
That evening, Kevin called. He had waited until 6:30, he said, but Feghali was still in his office with Dickerson when he left. “I even wiggled the doorknob; he had the door locked. I could hear them whispering inside…. What time will you be in tomorrow?” I told him I would be there by ten. The situation was getting out of control; I decided to contact Saccher if this continued.
The next morning I arrived at ten o’clock sharp. I always started off the day by going through my e-mails and phone messages. Almost immediately, Kevin appeared at my desk, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
As we talked, I glanced at my screen and scanned e-mails. There was one from Feghali, sent the previous evening at 6:41 p.m., addressed to Kevin, Dickerson and me. “After reviewing your workload and projects under Saccher’s Counterintelligence division,” it began, “I’ve decided to divide the targets among the three of you, permanently. This will increase the efficiency of processing these lines.” Beneath this he listed the target ID numbers and the name of the translators assigned to them. I unlocked my drawer and pulled out Dickerson’s handwritten instruction: Feghali’s division scheme was identical to it. As a postscript, Feghali added, “Please do NOT discuss this with Special Agent Dennis Saccher. This decision does not concern him and I forbid you to discuss this with anyone but me. Also, from this point on you shall not meet with SA Saccher without notifying me first.”
Kevin’s face drained of all color. “Shit; I knew she had gotten to him. She’s been working on him since she arrived here…. Do you know how many behind-closed-door meetings they’ve had in the past month? Usually after hours? Shit!”
“I’ll give Feghali one more chance,” I replied. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll go to Saccher. Based on the bureau’s rules, Feghali is not even allowed to know about these targets, their names and their ID numbers …”
“Don’t underestimate Feghali,” Kevin said, deadly serious. “There are other things that you don’t know about, Sibel … let’s have coffee outside, I don’t want to talk about this here.”
I decided to hear Kevin out before giving Feghali the memo. When I got to the coffeehouse, Kevin was already there, looking rattled.
“Do you know how only agents are allowed to know and maintain informants’ and assets’ identities, contact information?”
I shook my head no. During my work I had not come across anything that involved procedures concerning FBI informants’ information, and wondered what this had to do with Feghali or Dickerson.
“Feghali has found a way to access that information,” Kevin continued. “I don’t know how. Also, according to Sarshar, Feghali has found a way to use and cash in on this information. Again, I don’t know how. I’m telling you what I’ve heard from several sources.” He went on to describe illegal transactions involving nepotism and other illicit activities, all of them disturbing. Kevin sounded afraid. He considered Feghali evil. “I won’t inform Saccher. I want to stay away from this shit.”
I looked him in the eye and told him he didn’t have a choice, that if we didn’t report this, we would be co-conspirators. “Like it or not, you’ve been exposed to this; you are a witness.” I sighed. “I’ll call Saccher tomorrow morning. This information on informants can be huge. Think about it: he could be selling that information to the targets. Do you know how much he can get for that—for ratting out FBI informants? Do you know that this can get some of these informants killed?!”
As I got up to leave, Kevin said he wanted to wait a few minutes; he
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