Chapter 16: Operation Bear Trap

Operation Bear Trap officially began shortly after Labor Day. This coincided to the second week of the new autumn semester. I was busy lecturing and organizing my research. Now that I had received some credit for my efforts, it was time to become serious about them.

Since the article published in that journal mentioned the work I did, I’ve received numerous letters inquiring about my research, with the majority wanting additional information. One letter came from a firm in Germany offering me a position if I relocated there. I even received a handful of mails offering to conduct co-research provided I shared my work with them. The last category of communications was trashed. These were offers to steal my work and receive shared credit for it. Academics lived in constant fear of publish or perish.

Sadie’s job became more demanding of her time throughout the summer, so she was unable to visit as anticipated. She was working more hours for the same compensation. Her employer demanded more from her, and her boss’s boss demanded even more. Turmoil rolls downhill, it seemed.

Our Sunday night phone discussions became more heated and serious. She was pondering giving up and moving to Minot to live with her grandma. If nothing else, Sadie could land a nice job at the local air base. I offered to speak with the college for her, but she declined. She wanted to do everything on her own, she explained.

While all of this was going on in my life and with the people I cared about, Operation Bear Trap was moving forward. The FBI was able to obtain a loan of one of the masking devices for evaluation. It was to see whether the agency would want to use it in future operations.

Agent Foster let me know that he would be coming to Minot soon. We would set up shop and begin baiting the trap. Agent Foster was able to obtain Ginny’s phone number, and after the device was set up, I was to call her on it.

The goal was to reconnect with Ginny over the phone. Part B would become available after the link was established and functioning properly. I planned to visit Chicago around the middle of the week in order to see Jeffie again. We would communicate when he was making a delivery to a pub near campus. The Chicago FBI officers tracked his every move for several days. Jeff was one of those people that was generally on schedule. It was fortunate that there was a tavern near the college campus, and the timing of his delivery suited our plans.

The FBI scored big on this one. The bar was located just a few blocks north of the University of Chicago campus. The university has an excellent reputation as a scientific research center. What better location for a number cruncher to be? The FBI had the logistics worked out, and my arrival at the proper time was meticulously organized. First, I wanted to chat to Ginny and get her hormones going.

The FBI needed to ensure that the cloaking device, as we termed it, never left their custody. They didn’t distrust me; they simply did not want a pricey piece of equipment on loan that would assist them develop legs and walk. Agent Foster stayed with it while I was in the room, and the “little black box” was secure.

The plan was for me to come on base and call Ginny. Phone calls were monitored and taped as evidence. After the call, the “little black box” and any recording tapes used were stored in a vault someplace on base.

Agent Foster was able to stay at a nice hotel near to college. We would share a ride out to the base together.

During his downtime, he became a frequent dinner visitor at Mrs. Jorgenson’s residence. She did her utmost to match him with another of her granddaughters. He was a confirmed bachelor, which made her strive harder to develop that connection.

He even attended church with us on Sunday mornings. When she was in the clutches of her church buddies, we were known as “her boys”.

Agent Foster and I spent the next week drafting a script. I’d draw Ginny out, toy with her emotions, and then dump her. We believed it would be enough to incite her rage and set her on her path to ruin. We worked on the script for a week before we were confident it would work as anticipated.

Agent Foster forwarded a copy of what we had for me to say to female agents in Chicago so they could evaluate its impact. He asked as to whether our intended script would yield the desired results. When asked to review the script, we received four out of four votes from female agents. One female agent went on to claim that if she ever encountered me, I would have a third eye from her .357 magnum. I believe we got it correct after hearing the female agent’s comment.

We needed to ensure that the technology functioned and that it concealed my present location. I decided to test it by contacting my folks’ residence. It had been nearly two years since I last spoke with my family. I wanted to let them know I was still alive. Another reason for the call was that I was confident that after I finished calling my parents, my mother would be on the phone with Ginny. The phone call would lend credence to the notion that I was in Chicago working. I called my parents’ phone number. The black box made some weird popping and squeaking noises before dialing out. It rang three times before I heard the phone pick up.

“Hello,” I said into the handset.

Then I heard the shaky voice of my dad answer back, “Is that you, champ?”

“Yes, Dad. It’s me. I’ve missed you.”

I heard my father say, “You better get in here. You won’t want to miss this. “Get your tail in here!”

I listened as I heard footsteps coming towards the phone.

“Why are you so riled up?” I heard my mom say.

“Say hello on the phone, and don’t ask so many questions!” my dad huffed.

“Hello?” my mother asked. I could sense the uncertainty in her voice.

“Mom, it’s me. How are you?” I said it in a shaky voice.

For a second, I thought she had passed out.

“Is that you?” “You could have called to let us know where you were and that you were at least alive,” she added, her voice agitated.

Leave it to my mother to take control and assert her dominance over the situation.

For the next five minutes, I was subjected to her fury. I was the ungrateful offspring, and so forth. Then came the kicker: I ran away, leaving poor Ginny heartbroken and despondent.

I looked across at Agent Foster, who rolled his eyes. It was everything I could do not to chuckle throughout my mother’s rant. I had her worked up. When we hung up the phone, poor dad would suffer. After all, I was his devil spawn, putting them through this agonizing ordeal for the last two years.

She finally wound down. It was time for me to put forth the greatest acting job of my twenty-something life and lie to my mom.

“Mom, I could not tell you where I was till today. I was at a highly secure, concealed location, working on classified government information. And that’s all I can say.” I lied. “Mom, now I am working at the University of Chicago doing the same thing but not as secure as where I was.”

“We are coming up there, and I won’t take no for an answer.” She stated it with her best “I’m in charge here” voice. “Remember, you aren’t too old or too big for me to take a switch to you.”

I wasn’t expecting that reaction, so I had to think quickly. If not, the entire Operation Bear Trap was jeopardized. To prevent her from coming to Chicago, I had to throw up some type of obstacle. I knew I was going to hell for the lie I was about to utter.

“Mom, you and Dad can’t; I am not permitted to be away from my handlers. I was really fortunate to be able to call you. We’re not permitted to receive or send mail for fear that something could be compromised and harm national security,” I lied.