Chapter 25 – Crossroads
Cambridge, Massachusetts – December 1994
The cold December wind cut through the streets of Cambridge with an intensity that reminded Logan of the beginning of this journey — when, years before, he had arrived there for the first time, with an old suitcase, a head full of dreams and a heart heavy with the distance from home.
Now, it was different.
Logan walked through the campus with his dark coat buttoned up to his neck. The snow accumulated around the trees painted the landscape white and silent. Everything was calmer now. The lights from the library windows still shone for some classmates who were preparing for their final exams. For him, it was all over.
His last paper had been handed in days earlier, on "Constitutional Limits of Domestic Surveillance in Democratic Regimes".
He received praise from Professor Brooks and from an external committee of invited legal analysts. It was a work that made him proud not for the recognition, but for the content. It was the sum total of everything he had learned.
That evening, Logan went to the college bookstore. He walked in, walked through the shelves, and stopped in front of the criminal law section. He ran his fingers along the familiar spines. Some were old editions, others were shiny new. He picked up a copy of National Security Law and the Constitution and leafed through it for a few minutes, smelling the paper and ink. It wasn't goodbye to that world. It was the end of an era.
January 1995 – Start of the Second Semester
The weeks passed quickly. January arrived with the cold and the final load of the course. Few courses now more seminars than lectures. Logan was already a master in his field, and each meeting was more of an exchange between colleagues than a lesson.
He met frequently with Marie LaFont, who had become a great friend and intellectual interlocutor. With her, he discussed international politics, European law, and sometimes philosophy. On a cold afternoon, sitting in front of the Faculty Club fireplace, she asked:
"What now, Logan? What's next?"
Logan hesitated.
"I… I don't know yet."
Marie looked at him in surprise.
"You? Who always knows exactly what you're going to do, where, and how?"
He laughed, a little embarrassed.
"It's just… after so much time here, studying, fighting… now that it's over, everything seems so… open."
"You can stay at the DOD, right?"
"Yes. Dr. Rowe already signaled that. But there's one thing…"
Logan lowered his eyes for a moment.
"My parents. I miss them. I feel like it's time to go back."
May 1995 – L.L.M. Graduation Ceremony
The sun was finally rising over Cambridge. The snow had given way to greenery and the sound of applause. Logan, wearing the black robe and red sash of his L.L.M., was among the first in line, greeted by professors and fellow students as he walked to the stage. His name was announced:
Logan Alexander Moore, Master of Law, with concentration in Criminal Law and National Security.
The audience applauded. Standing at the front, beside Thomas, were his parents: Richard and Clara Moore. Clara's eyes were welling up. Richard clapped his hands, a proud smile lighting up his aging face. As he stepped off the stage, Logan walked over to them, hugging them tightly.
"My boy," Clara whispered. "You did it."
"For you," Logan replied, overcome with emotion.
George and Margaret, Thomas's parents, were there too, smiling warmly. It was a small gathering of families built on affection and admiration.
"This is the man of the future," George joked, squeezing Logan's shoulder.
Two Days Later – Dr. Rowe's Office, Washington D.C. (Video Conference Call)
The computer screen displayed the serene and attentive face of Dr. Valerie Rowe. Always elegant, she wore a dark suit and reading glasses. Logan, sitting in his small temporary office in Boston, straightened his posture.
"First of all, congratulations on your graduation, Logan. We received the reports from the evaluation committee. Excellent, as always."
"Thank you, Dr. Rowe. It's been an intense journey, but very rewarding."
She smiled, but then her expression became serious.
"Now, are you ready for the next step?"
Logan took a deep breath. It was time.
"Yes, ma'am. But… I wanted to talk to you about it."
"Sure. Tell me."
"You know how committed I am to my work. And how dedicated I am to the DOD. But… it's been years since I've been away from home. Away from my parents." "I see," Rowe said, listening intently.
"I was wondering if there was a possibility that I could continue working with the Department, but… remotely. Or perhaps transfer to the DOD office in New York. I know that the Washington headquarters has the most sensitive cases, but… if I could continue to contribute from there, even on a support team, that would mean a lot to me."
Rowe stared, processing.
"Logan, you have one of the fastest TS/SCIs I've ever seen given to someone so young. Your analysis is impeccable, your record is clean, and your ethics are unquestionable. But you're also human. And your loyalty to your family only confirms what I already knew about you.
Logan nodded gratefully.
"I'll talk to the Director." She tapped something on the keyboard. "The New York office handles some cybersecurity operations, encrypted communications analysis, and some legal matters related to coastal security. Perhaps you could lead a new group to review operational procedures on home soil. I can put that in place."
Logan's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
"I can't promise it will be immediate. But if it's up to me, yes. You've proven that wherever you are, you deliver excellence. And your mind… it's not limited to one building."
Logan smiled, relieved.
"I really appreciate it, Dr. Rowe. I'll never forget everything you've done for me."
— The credit is yours, Logan. But I'm glad to have been part of your journey. And know this: New York could be your new post. But if one day the world shakes... the Pentagon will call you back.
They smiled.
Chapter 26 – Homecoming
New York – June 1995
The train arrived at Penn Station at 9:47 a.m. on a Monday morning, bright with the late spring sun. The sky, a clear blue with few clouds, contrasted with the dense and busy urban landscape that stretched beyond the station exit.
Logan Moore, now officially graduated with a J.D. and an L.L.M. in Criminal Law and National Security, was returning home or at least to the city he had always considered home. He carried only a discreet and functional black suitcase on wheels, as well as a worn leather backpack, a gift from his father, in which he carried documents and his laptop.
He walked up the stairs of the station in silence, taking a deep breath as he felt the thick New York air. There was pollution, yes, but also life, pulse, history. The city spoke to him it spoke to everyone, in fact, but Logan had always prided himself on knowing how to listen to it better than most.
Hours later, Logan arrived at his new apartment, which he had rented with the help of the federal housing subsidy he would receive. It was modest, but very well located in Long Island City, with easy subway access to Federal Plaza, where the Department of Defense (DOD) building in New York was located.
The apartment had one bedroom, a living room, a kitchenette, and a balcony from which he could see part of the Manhattan skyline. Still without any furniture other than the essentials, Logan sat on the floor of the living room, leaning his back against the white wall. He picked up the landline and dialed his parents.
"Hello?" his mother, Clara, answered.
"Hi, Mom. I'm home now. I got here safely."
"Oh, my son… Thank God. So, how was everything?"
"Everything was fine. The apartment is small, but it's just mine. It's just the way I wanted it."
"And what about work?"
"I start next week. But Dr. Rowe has already given me some news…"
Two days later – Video conference with Dr. Rowe
Logan was sitting at a simple desk, recently purchased from a thrift store. He had been using the space in the room as his temporary office while he waited for access to the DOD office to be cleared.
On the screen, the ever-imposing Dr. Rowe appeared with a slight smile.
"Logan. Welcome back to your city."
"Thank you, ma'am. It's good to be here again."
She adjusted her glasses and opened a digital folder.
"Let's get to the point. I spoke with the head of the sensitive operations section. As you know, your performance with the cases in Washington was… impressive."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"You actually went above and beyond what we expected of an intern," she said emphatically. — And now, as a professional with the proper security clearances, we have decided that your work will be better utilized... by continuing to work on the same cases.
Logan frowned slightly, confused.
— Do you mean... that I will continue to work on the cases from the Washington headquarters?
— Exactly.
She paused for him to absorb the information.
— We know that you will be physically located in the New York office. But you will have access to a SCIF — Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility — in the building. The space is being prepared for you with TS/SCI access level. There, you will be able to work with classified material with total security, without having to be physically in D.C. most of the time.
Logan put his hand to his chin, thoughtful.
— That... is more than I expected.
— You will continue to work on legal analyses, review security guidelines, and may eventually join strategy committees for new internal protocols. Her work on the 1994 reports impressed sectors of the NSA and the Pentagon's own Legal Counsel.
"Madam… I don't even know what to say. This is an honor."
"You deserve it. And when necessary, you will come to Washington," she added, professional and direct. "But your day-to-day will be there, in your city, with your people."
Logan smiled, moved.
"Thank you very much, Dr. Rowe. For trusting me."
"Just keep delivering what you always have. Discipline, dedication and critical vision. The system recognizes the rest."
Four days later – First visit to the DOD office in NY
Logan went through the security of the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building, presenting his official DOD badge. Two guards verified his authorization and accompanied him to the 17th floor, where the SCIF he had been assigned was located.
The environment was clean, windowless, with reinforced walls, automatic double-security doors and an internal surveillance system. There, he would have access to encrypted terminals, sensitive digital and physical files, and a secure line of communication with Washington.
"Welcome, Mr. Moore," said the local supervisor, a middle-aged man named Agent Paul Ramirez. "We understand you were plucked straight from headquarters. That's rare around here."
"I'll try to live up to expectations," Logan replied, extending his hand.
Ramirez shook it firmly.
"I've heard of you. And between you and me, any help you can give us is appreciated. There's going to be work, kid.
— I like work.
At the end of the day – call to Thomas
— So you have your own bunker now? — Thomas laughed on the other end of the line.
— Yeah. More or less — Logan joked. — A windowless office, with a bunch of protocols and encryptions. But I feel... good. Useful.
— You've always been useful. But now you're like... Batman. In the NSA bunker.
— Get used to it. Now you have a friend who's a federal agent — Logan replied, jokingly.
— It doesn't surprise me. Just don't forget to breathe and live a little too, okay? New York isn't just about work.
— I know. And now I can be close to my parents. That's what matters most.
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