The Lions of Revenge

           The deputy stepped out of his vehicle with a look of confusion and ambled over a small tree that had fallen across the driveway. In the six months since he had been assigned to this jurisdiction this was the most remote address he had seen, possibly the most remote in the whole of New Jersey. A dark-colored farmhouse with an adjoining barn leaned wearily against the side of a wooded mountain. FBI vehicles had been seen coming and going weeks ago, a training exercise he was told, although no trainees were seen. The beam of his flashlight caught a narrow strip of police tape in the mist; someone had cordoned off a small area where the main entrance to the house and the barn met at right angles. A crime scene that had never been reported. The tape was starting to sag with age, a crime scene that had been forgotten.

           He stepped into the barn and shined the beam into a vast, dusty space filled with old hunting trophies and machinery. There was a pelt hanging on the wall, a professionally-cleaned animal skull on the desk something like a lion’s, and a tall jar in which a set of… gonads? were suspended in liquid, much larger than a man’s.

           There were no obvious signs of a crime but too much time had passed. He supposed the owner might have been found deceased out front, but even classified crime scenes required there to be a crime reported in. If a drug lord from Newark had died out here the file would be marked with an obituary just for real estate.

--

           FBI special agent Sieg Olssen stepped into the office where the Chief of Police and his lieutenant were seated. They seemed surprised that he was a foreigner, and that he was so young to be a special agent.

           “I’m not required to disclose anything about classified cases,” he said, “however my superiors have no problem sharing this case with you.”.

           His manner of speaking made them immediately think of the Gestapo, but his willingness was surprising considering his right to not appear before them at all.

           “Good because this is Mohegan County.” the older man let some air out with his own accent. “I’ve worked with the Bureau many times, and I know no matter how high the classification is a fifth grader can still ask if there was a crime. I mean if you wanted to say there was no victim and no house, what does it matter if we didn’t get the memo?”

           “It was a training exercise.” the agent answered. “We hired a film crew. The victim was supposed to be a person of interest in organized crime, the candidates track him down to a remote location in the mountains.”

           “FBI candidates?” the Chief inquired.

           “No it was a forensic exercise. We were looking for specific skills, no more than four or five participants across different agencies.”

           “But still, a training mission can be reported effortlessly. Unless… this department was one of those agencies.”

           “It’s important that candidates don’t know each other and have never worked together, which can be difficult to find in a specific area of expertise.”

           “And may I ask which area of forensics?”

           “Command and control. We need people who can keep crime scene information ‘contained’.”

           “Oh I see.” the Chief leaned forward. Then the lieutenant communicated to him in code that the agent was lying to them and that he wasn’t very skilled at it. The agent glanced at them both.

           “I imagine you have to be careful which story you tell.” the Chief went fishing. “I mean if the participants don’t know each other and they’ve been told it’s a real case, it could conceivably be a real case and those agencies wouldn’t know.”

           “The purpose of this operation was the interviews.” Agent Olssen replied. “We only set up the crime scene to make it appear genuine.” Then he added, “When the administration changed hands the project was closed.”.

           They wondered which administration he was referring to.

           “So these were agencies… across the intelligence community?” the Chief asked curiously.

           “No the departments were Fish and Wildlife Administration and the National Park Service.” he responded.

           This answer puzzled them.

           “Oh.” the lieutenant replied. “That explains all the taxidermy at the crime scene.”

           “Yes, the victim was supposed to be from a family of mountain lion hunters.” Olssen caught himself as if he had said something he didn’t intend. “We acquired the house, fixed it up and conducted the interviews.”

           “But there aren’t any mountain lions in New Jersey.” the lieutenant pointed out.

           This was the first thing said that gave him pause. He looked as if he was listening to a mosquito.

           “Are you wearing a wire?” the Chief asked suddenly.

           Olssen stood up uncomfortably and declared that they were finished, then he walked out.

           “What do you make of all that?” the lieutenant inquired.

           “I’d like to know who I was really talking to.” the Chief answered.

--

2

           Months earlier, a nameless young field agent was summoned to the White House to meet a newly-sworn conservationist-turned-Vice President who suddenly found himself President, a man who would end up serving just five months and then make a kingmaking arrangement to choose his more qualified successor, a long-standing former senator and first lady. He had already met with the FBI Director to ensure that position for another term, in exchange for granting the President a research agent for his personal use.

           “Please take a seat.” the conservationist-turned-prez looked up at Olssen with deft seriousness. “Tell me something about yourself.”

           “My parents immigrated to this country. I always wanted to be an intelligence officer.” he gave his usual answer.

           “Well this is a unique position.” the President stated. “Am I correct that you are under orders to report to no one but me?”

           “You are my superior, Sir.” the young man skirted the question.

           “If you haven’t been ordered to report to me and me alone then this meeting is over.” the President locked eyes with him. “You are now operating outside of the Bureau, if you wish to keep personal records you may report them after I am out of office.”

           Any situation with a president, especially a civilian, was a legal gray area. Nixon was right, something might not be legal but if he was the highest authority in the room it might as well be legal.

           “I will follow any order you give me, Sir.” Olssen answered.

“I’m telling you in advance this is a test of your abilities.” he continued. “I have chosen a subject that is not on most people’s radar as far as scandals go, which may not be a serious subject to you but is one I know very well. Even though I am a layman and you’re an officer I have to ask if you know how to conduct an investigation. Do you go around asking what you want to know? No, you put tabs on people of interest or put up a false flag and see who responds. I only have one advantage here and that is people don’t know my thoughts. The way to overcome career professionals and lies that have been told for my entire lifetime is to lure them out of their comfort zone into my world, a world I know very well. So you see it’s only natural that I would choose this way to face my adversaries.”

           He slid a folder across the desk with a lion’s head embossed in gold.

           “You will acquire an isolated mountain property in Eastern Pennsylvania or Western New Jersey, the more isolated the better. I want you to hire a film set designer, you can tell them it’s a crime documentary. The victim is a subject in an unrelated investigation who comes from a family of hunters, leaving behind a collection of around 100 animal carcasses. Start with taxidermists and see how discreetly you can acquire skins, pelts, bones and some other things mixed in. I want them incorporated into the house as if they had always been there. Then get back to me and we’ll proceed with the next step.”

           “And what is the next step, Sir?”

           “Calling our contacts in the wildlife resources community to get a short list of experts that you would normally consult in this situation.” the President explained. “I’m going to be listening on every call. I want you to act like an ungifted lawman who is completely out of your usual with this.”

           Olssen frowned as he wrote this down as fast as he could.

--

           The Chief of Police had sent his deputy back to the mountain site but the crime scene was already gone. They had even cleaned out all of the taxidermy in the barn which was what he was most curious about since it seemed to be the clue to all this.

           “It was fake.” the deputy declared to his surprise. “I noticed before I left. The pelt hanging on the wall had stitches removed from when it was a rug, and the skull had the stamp of some museum. It was second-hand, but I guess some of the stuff might have been real. You know what they say at academy, notice everything.”

--

3

           An investigation which was only known to the Chief, his lieutenant and the deputy proceeded. The lieutenant spoke to dozens of film companies and still couldn’t find the one the FBI used, not even local amateurs.  Weeks later the three of them were back in the office where this all started.

           “Do you suppose they were sworn to silence?” the deputy posed.

“I just don’t see what there is that would interest the Bureau or even a wild card within the bureau.” the Chief responded.

“When I said there aren’t any mountain lions in Jersey the man reacted like I was speaking in code.” the lieutenant ruminated. “So what does that mean? Who would we call if there was a mountain lion?”

They dialed the US Forest Service’s hotline.

“Yes I’m with the Mohegan County Police Department.” the lieutenant placed the phone on speaker. “I’d like to talk to someone about mountain lions?”

“Yes Sir if you have one it’s probably an escaped pet or a misidentification.” the representative answered. “Is the animal loose or do you have it contained?”

“It’s um… it’s actually some carcasses we found in a barn that belongs to a hunter. I guess we just don't know what to do with them."

“Sir there aren’t any mountain lions east of the Mississippi River unless they’ve wandered out of their breeding grounds in Montana or someone’s exotic pet has escaped. Part of our job is to prevent misinformation for public safety.”

“Well what if we just wanted an expert to come out and look at these?” the lieutenant posed.

There seemed to be a conversation going on at the end of the line.

“Sir this is just too strange and familiar to be a coincidence.” the man replied.

--

           Special Agent Olssen sat down with a research ranger specializing in large mammals, one of five experts selected from different agencies for these interviews. This one had a white beard overhanging his khaki uniform collar.

           “This is a sensitive case that is not to be discussed with anyone.” the younger man opened a manila envelope and placed several photos on the desk of what looked like a crime scene taken at night. “A person of interest has died. Apparently the owner comes from a family of puma hunters going back generations on this mountain. We found a collection of about one hundred animals inside; skins, pelts, skulls, organs preserved in liquid. Obviously extreme discretion is needed, to prevent misinformation from getting out to the public.”

           “Well our government’s official position is there are no mountain lions unless it’s an escaped pet or a vagrant.” the man spoke strictly. “90% of reports are from mistaken individuals. However I would be happy to examine the remains and take samples, that would tell us if the hunters simply brought the trophies back with them from out West, if these are multi-generational kills or more recent, or even the extreme possibility that it was a relict population of the extinct eastern cougar.”

           “Yes but let me return to the subject of discretion.” the agent replied. “What is the usual standard procedure for this? What was the closest case you’ve worked on personally?”

           The man had to think for a moment.

           “There hasn’t been a confirmed report in this state in my career as far as I know, but I was involved with the one that was hit by a car in Connecticut in 1998, the lab aspect at least.”

           “And where do you report the results when you’re finished?”

           “I would report them directly to you, confidentially.” he answered thinking this was the right answer.

           The President spoke coarsely on Olssen’s earpiece.

           “I’m sorry let me rephrase the question. Where would your records and samples normally go where others can read them?”

           “There are databases that labs share for verification and education.” the man replied.

           “But as I said, secrecy is essential.” Olssen pointed out. “This is an undisclosed drug investigation involving some famous persons.”

           “If you like I can turn in all notes and samples directly to you.” the ranger offered.

           “Yes but some kind of record needs be kept by your department.” Olssen sighed. “If the results contradict the official scientific position there has to be a time for evaluation and consideration before exposing them to the public, do you agree?”

           “Yes I suppose in that situation some discretion would be advised to make sure data hasn’t been tampered with or misconstrued. What do you propose?”

           “You said there aren’t any known cases.” the agent interjected. “Well, I want the records and specimens classified the same way as the others.”

           “I’m sorry, what others?” the ranger blinked.

“You just said there’s a procedure for sensitive activity.” Olssen voiced his frustration. “Where do you keep the files? Who is your designated person to discuss classified material?”

           “I’m afraid you misunderstood me.” the ranger was taken aback by this. “There are no cases because there aren’t any. We don’t have classified materials, I’m a biologist. If there was a genuine case I would report it like anything else, that’s the scientific process.”

           “And your colleagues wouldn’t say you’re a ‘mistaken individual’?” the agent demanded.

--

           “That’s all he said.” the ranger finished explaining to the police. “It was the strangest interview I’ve ever seen. He’s mistaken about us keeping mountain lions a secret, when I get the call from some drunken hunters I inform them voluntarily.”

           “Thank you for your time.” the lieutenant rose and shook his hand.

           “By the way, was there a hoard of lion remains found on a rural property?” he asked curiously.

           “It was fake.” the Chief answered him.

           “Huh.” this confirmed what he already thought. “One would think the FBI would know better.”

--

4

           The doors of the police department’s offices were flung open by a short, dark-haired man guarded by secret servicemen. A livid conservationist-turned-ex-president, now a month out of office after obtaining a classified research position for himself, barged in and demanded to see the chief of police.

           “I understand our wildlife resource departments have been told that a stash of mountain lion remains was faked by the government!” he exclaimed loudly.

           “Mister President,” the Chief emerged from his office, “let’s talk in private please, Sir.”. “This is a police station and we need to maintain order. You can use my chair.”

           The two men disappeared into the back room, the entire staff and visitors rubbernecking.

           “I’d like to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you…” the Chief continued.

           “There is no deceit in biology!” the prez steamrolled through his words. “And yet in all this time our government has been lying about a single species of animal. People are afraid of them because they think they’re mankillers, when anyone in Winter can tell you they’re all over New Jersey. They’re not stray individuals that wandered from their breeding grounds; it’s a cat, they breed whenever they see another cat! They invented an eastern subspecies from colonial times just so they could say it’s extinct, when there’s no biological difference between them! Anyone who calls in a report is told a list of naysayings by an authority that keeps its own records and specimens somewhere. There is a cougar czar out there behind all this!”

           When the ex president was finished the Chief apologized again, and then he stormed out. The Chief wiped some sweat from his brow even though he wasn’t the one ranting, and exchanged looks with the lieutenant.

           Later that day the current administration called the station to apologize themselves, from the office of the Secretary of the Interior. The Chief had tossed his necktie onto the desk to unbutton his collar.

           “I appreciate that but I do have one question.” he spoke into the phone. “As Commander-in-chief he had access to classified information, so I figure he must know something.”

           “Yes but the only classified files in this department are related to crimes on national park lands designated by law enforcement.” the Secretary answered him. “We don’t have our own classification system.”

           This statement gave him pause.

           “I’m not disagreeing with you but an investigator is trained to read between the lines.” the Chief responded. “One of the procedures in any open investigation is whether to disclose it or not. I mean if a couple of rangers saw a living dinosaur the first thing you guys would do is discuss whether to keep it a secret.”

           “But since there are no living dinosaurs that situation would never arise.” the Secretary replied. “I mean we’re not children here are we?”

           He hung up the phone and the Chief was left with his thoughts.