CHAPTER 28 — SECRETS, SILENCE, AND SECURITY
Harvard Law School, March 2013 | Tuesday, 8:47 a.m.
Gustavo was walking through the east wing of the campus, coffee in hand, when he received an unusual notification on his cell phone:
Sender: Harvard Law Dean's Office
Subject: Urgent Attendance – Conference Room C-217 – 9:00 a.m.
Note: Classified confidential. Please arrive promptly.
He frowned. The message had the kind of formality and urgency that didn't fit in with ordinary academic meetings.
He put his cell phone away and quickened his pace.
Room C-217, Administrative Wing — 9:00 a.m.
When he entered, he found the dean of Harvard Law School, Dean Wilkins, already seated next to two people in dark suits. One of them, a bald man with austere features, wore a discreet Department of Defense (DoD) badge pinned to his jacket.
"Mr. Silva," Wilkins said, standing up. "Please sit down."
Gustavo sat down cautiously.
The man with the badge introduced himself.
"My name is Richard Calhoun. I am a representative of the Department of Defense, Legal Division. This conversation is confidential, and before we proceed, we will ask that you sign this NDA."
The other agent pushed a folder with the Non-Disclosure Agreement and a black pen.
Gustavo read it carefully. His eyes detected the strict confidentiality clauses, the penalties in case of breach, and the authorization to receive Top Secret/SCI level security clearance.
He took a deep breath.
"All right," he said, signing.
Calhoun exchanged quick glances with his colleague, then leaned forward.
— "Mr. Silva, the Department of Defense has been following your academic trajectory. We know your record: top marks in the California Bar, outstanding performance in Moot Courts, exemplary internship at Pearson Hardman, fluency in four languages, including French essential for NATO."
Wilkins smiled restrainedly, proudly.
Calhoun continued:
— "We also know that you are a foreigner, which in normal circumstances would be an impediment. But your background is clean. We have received confidential recommendations from prosecutors, lawyers and even members of the Department of Justice who worked with you on panels and technical visits."
Gustavo just listened. He could feel his heart beating a little faster, but his expression was serene.
— "We are here to offer a special legal internship in the National Security sector, under the direct supervision of military and civilian lawyers. The internship begins this semester, with a continuing program during your L.L.M. next year."
— "With all due respect…" — Gustavo interrupted politely. — "But how would that be possible if I am a foreign citizen?"
Calhoun smiled.
— "We made an exception. And it was not easy. What we did was file a special request for Conditional Security Clearance, based on the interests of the State and the exceptional nature of the situation. You will be the first non-permanent resident alien to occupy this position under direct supervision."
Silence for a second.
Gustavo felt the weight of the proposal.
Wilkins finally spoke:
— "Gustavo, if you accept, it will be a milestone for Harvard, for the DoD, and for you."
Wednesday, 10:37 p.m. – Gustavo's room
Lying on the bed, with his laptop next to him, he turned on the screen and started a video call. His parents, Leandro and Carla, appeared smiling on the other side of the screen.
— "Hey, son! Is everything okay?" — Leandro said, adjusting his glasses.
— "Everything's great… But I have something big to tell you."
They both fell silent, attentive.
— "Today I was called by representatives from the Department of Defense. They offered me a legal internship in national security cases. I would be the first foreigner to work with restricted access under direct observation."
Silence.
— "They did a background check, approved my application, and I signed an NDA."
Carla put her hand to her mouth, overcome with emotion.
— "Son… this is huge. This is… surreal."
— "Yeah. It's everything I imagined and more. But it's a lot of responsibility."
— "You were born for this." — Leandro said seriously. — "Just don't forget to keep your feet on the ground. Because the world will try to pull you down."
Friday, 7:00 a.m. – Pentagon, DoD Office (Boston)
Gustavo was taken by a discreet van to the Department of Defense regional annex in Boston. There, he was driven by a female employee with tied-up hair, identified only as Agent Wallace.
— "Mr. Silva, as of today, you are not just a student. You are a legal trainee with special access. Your credentials will allow entry into specific areas and cases under DoD jurisdiction."
He was given a gray badge with red details: "Authorized Personnel – Clearance Level: Conditional Top Secret."
— "Come. Your supervisor is waiting for you."
Meeting Room – DoD, Boston
There he was: Colonel Gregory E. Sloane, decorated military lawyer, and now Gustavo's mentor.
— "Are you the Harvard whiz kid?" the Colonel asked, without smiling.
— "Just a guy who studied hard and had good opportunities." — Gustavo replied.
— "I liked the answer. In here, it doesn't matter how much you shine outside. The reality is different. We're dealing with cases involving domestic terrorism, corporate espionage and cyber threats."
— "I'm ready to learn."
— "Great. Your first task will be to review the Black Star Case file. All the names are redacted. You'll have to cross-reference case law to help the defense attorneys."
Gustavo nodded. He was handed a folder labeled RESTRICTED and led to a windowless room with reinforced doors and encrypted computers.
He sat down, opened the digital file with authorized printing and read the first line:
"Indicted: Classification SIGMA-1. Position: Former government agent. Charge: Leakage of national security data."
He felt a chill run down his spine.
But he also felt a different kind of adrenaline rush. It was as if, at that moment, everything he had done—all the studying, all the late nights, the simulations, and the internships—had led him to this very moment.
Two Weeks Later – Harvard Law, Classroom | 4:20 p.m.
Gustavo walked in late, which was unusual. The class was with Professor Samantha Greer, on ethics in the practice of criminal law.
She raised an eyebrow.
—"Mr. Silva, did something happen? You're 12 minutes late."
—"I apologize, Professor. I was in a confidential meeting."
She crossed her arms.
—"If it's really confidential, then I understand. But please be punctual. Even spies need discipline."
Some laughed, and Gustavo smiled, neither confirming nor denying.
Video Call – Sunday, 11:19 p.m.
Haley appeared on the screen wearing a robe and messy hair.
—"You've been missing this week, huh?"
— "Disappearing is a strong word… let's just say I was absorbed."
— "I'm kidding. I imagine. Your parents told me the news. Like, interning with the Department of Defense? Gustavo, that's Jason Bourne level."
— "In practice, it's less glamorous. It's piles of confidential documents and no room for error."
— "But I'm so proud. Seriously. You're the most incredible guy I know."
He smiled.
— "And you're my biggest fan."
— "Do you still have time to breathe?"
— "Not much, but talking to you is already my dose of oxygen."
End of the Month – Gustavo's Diary
"Being in the DoD is like walking on invisible strings. Every word, every interpretation, needs to be perfect. Trust is the greatest asset here. I represent Harvard, Brazil, and my own integrity. I can't fail. But I'm not afraid. I was born for this."
Chapter 29 — Strategy, Secrecy, and Seeds of the Future
Harvard Law School — March 2013, 5:40 AM
It was still night outside, but Gustavo's room was lit. The yellowish light from the desk lamp cast soft shadows over the stacked books: Advanced Criminal Law, National Security Law, Intelligence Gathering & the Constitution.
The coffee was almost cold.
He was typing briskly, reviewing a fictitious petition he would have to present in one of the most demanding classes of the semester. A class that, ironically, seemed easy compared to the classified documents he read weekly at the DoD.
— "Another day, another mission," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes.
7:10 AM — Department of Defense Regional Office, Boston
Gustavo arrived at the DoD building as always: punctual, serious, silent. He showed his badge to the security guard, went through the metal detector — even with clearance, the protocols were strict — and was led to Room 4C, where the morning briefing would take place.
Agent Wallace was already waiting for him, alongside two new faces.
— "Good morning, Mr. Silva," she said. "These are Mr. David Lang and Mr. Rasheed Khan, senior legal analysts with the Military Counterintelligence Division."
They both shook Gustavo's hand firmly.
— "We've heard a lot about you," Lang said seriously. "You made a good impression on Colonel Sloane."
— "I'm honored. I'm here to learn and contribute what I can."
Wallace handed over an encrypted tablet.
— "Today you will review the legal intersections of the Patriot Act in a real case. It involves a former military man suspected of collaborating with a foreign cell. We need to evaluate whether the data obtained by the NSA is admissible in court — and whether there is a constitutional violation."
Gustavo nodded, absorbing the responsibility.
— "Okay. I'll start now."
10:45 — Restricted Legal Analysis Room
The silence was absolute. The only soundtrack was the soft clicks of the keyboard and the whisper of pages turning.
Gustavo carefully analyzed the case records. He crossed case law with surgical skill. His mind worked quickly:
"The precedent 'United States v. Jones' limits GPS tracking without a warrant. But the case in question involves devices in a restricted military area... Perhaps the national security exception applies under the 'Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act.'"
He made a note of this. He knew that this technical report could reach the hands of a military judge or even a federal prosecutor.
And what's more: each line he wrote, each argument he supported, was another step in building respect. Respect that, in the corridors of power, is worth more than gold.
1:10 p.m. — Lunch at the DoD Internal Dining Hall
Gustavo sat with Wallace and Lang. The dining hall was simple, unostentatious, but efficient. Many ate in silence, others discussed legal, military or technological issues in hushed tones.
— "Do you intend to pursue a career here in the United States?" — Lang asked curiously.
— "Actually, my plan is to return to Los Angeles after my L.L.M. I want to become an LAPD police officer and, over time, work on federal cases and criminal investigations."
— "A J.D. graduate from Harvard and interning at the DoD to become a street cop?" — Rasheed asked, surprised.
— "Not just on the streets. I want to be on the streets, but also behind the scenes. Investigating, building solid cases, understanding crime from the inside out. And eventually, helping to change the system from the inside."
Lang and Rasheed looked at each other. Wallace smiled, discreetly.
— "Ambition with purpose," she said. "It's rare. Keep it up."
5:30 p.m. — Return to Harvard
The day didn't end there. Gustavo arrived at the college library with his body tired, but his mind alert.
He sat at the table with Lucia, a classmate and now partner in a project on Transnational Criminal Law.
— "You look exhausted," she commented.
— "Long day at the internship. Lots of records. Lots of espionage."
She laughed.
— "It's like a movie."
— "Almost. Only without the special effects. Just the weight of responsibility."
— "And will this help your career as a police officer?"
— "Much more than it seems. I'm building a network of contacts at the top of the pyramid. Prosecutors, federal agents, analysts… People who in the future can open doors for me or teach me something valuable."
Lucia nodded, amazed.
— "You're a monster, Gustavo. And you still get the best grades in the class."
— "I try to maintain the standard."
9:48 p.m. — Gustavo's dorm
Lying on the bed, he opened his laptop. He started a video call with Haley. Her image appeared on the screen — hair tied up, smiling face.
— "Hi, I've been missing!"
— "Present, mostly tired, but present."
— "How was your day at your 'undercover work'?"
— "Intense. But I learned a lot. I'm earning the respect of the big guys there. That will weigh heavily when I join the LAPD. I don't want to be just another one. I want to lead, to change the way justice is done."
— "You will. You were born for this. And look… I'm excited for when the physical store opens. But I want you to be here for the opening."
— "Even if I come in a jetpack."
She laughed out loud.
— "You're almost an Avenger already."
— "Call me Lawman."
Gustavo's Diary – Private Entry
"Sometimes I wonder if it's healthy to be exposed to so much. Codes, secrets, names that can't be said out loud. But every day in the DoD teaches me more about the power game and how it can be used to protect the innocent.
The 17-year-old Gustavo who arrived in LA would never have imagined this. But I'm getting closer and closer to the future I dreamed of: being the bridge between law, investigation and real justice.
And when I become a police officer, I won't be just another guy with a badge. I'll be someone with a background that few will have.
Someone who walked in the shadows… and chose the light."
Chapter 30 — In the Heart of Power
Washington, D.C. — June 2013
The plane landed at Ronald Reagan National Airport at exactly 6:42 a.m. The summer sky in Washington was beginning to take on an orange hue, reflecting off the silver fuselage of the Boeing 737. Gustavo got out, carrying his wheeled suitcase and a black backpack on his back.
Even though he was tired, his gaze was sharp and alert, as always. He knew that this summer would not be just an internship it would be a turning point.
7:30 a.m. — Taxi to Foggy Bottom
As the taxi crossed George Washington Parkway, the driver, a gentleman with a white beard and a Caribbean accent, struck up a conversation:
— "First time in DC?"
Gustavo answered with a discreet smile.
— "No. But it's the first time I've been here for work."
— "What kind of work?"
— "Legal internship at the Department of Defense."
The driver gave a slight whistle.
— "Heavy stuff, huh?"
— "Yeah... but that's what I want."
9:00 AM — Entrance to the Pentagon
That was it. The five-sided gray monster, a veritable fortress, surrounded by armed security and constant surveillance. Gustavo was wearing a dark suit, navy tie, and polished shoes. He carried with him only a briefcase and a document: the DoD Clearance Authorization signed by Wallace.
After passing through three security checkpoints, including biometric scanning, an x-ray, and a metal detector, he was finally taken to the fourth floor, wing 3B, National Security Legal Affairs.
There, he was greeted by a tall, firm-looking man with thin-rimmed glasses and carefully combed gray hair.
— "You must be Silva."
— "Yes, sir. Gustavo Silva."
— "I am General Counsel Robert H. Drummond. Please take a seat."
09:20 — First Briefing
In the greenish glass room, there was a single conference table, a projector, and two side screens that displayed real-time geopolitical maps.
Drummond watched him carefully.
— "You are not American."
— "Brazilian, sir."
— "But you have already passed the California Bar. You speak four languages. You have an impeccable academic record. And a direct recommendation from the Boston Legal Intelligence Office."
— "Yes, sir."
Drummond nodded thoughtfully.
— "You are not just a student. You are an asset. And this summer, you will be under the direct guidance of three teams: Counterintelligence, Emergency Legislation, and Special Operations Legal Analysis."
Gustavo swallowed hard. He knew it was serious, but he had no idea it would be so deep.
— "Yes, sir. I'm ready."
Drummond smiled briefly.
— "You have no idea what you're going to see."
12:30 p.m. — First Lunch in the In-House Cafeteria
Gustavo sat next to Claire Monroe, a senior analyst who would be mentoring him for the first few weeks. She looked younger than her resume indicated, but her gaze betrayed years of experience.
— "You're the Harvard whiz kid, huh?"
— "Maybe. It depends on what you consider whiz."
— "Getting a 100% on the California Bar as a foreigner... I call that exceptional."
She chewed a French fry calmly, then continued:
— "You'll be working with us on the Red Target Project case. I can't say much yet. But it has to do with a group of military personnel who may be collaborating with foreign agents."
— "And my role?"
— "Constitutional and legal analysis of the use of electronic surveillance. You will review the legality of wiretapping, tracking, and digital infiltration."
— "Do we have FISA authorization?"
— "We are still in legal limbo. That's where you come in."
2:00 p.m. — Restricted Room 5C, Level 4 Access
With his eyes glued to the screen, Gustavo read an intercepted transcript between a U.S. officer stationed in Stuttgart, Germany, and a man identified as "I.S." — a likely member of a non-state force in the Middle East.
"Operation will occur in less than a month. We need the green light. We already have the paperwork from the base."
He paused. He went back, read it again.
There were no names. But there was time.
He typed up a technical report, aligning each section with articles of the U.S. Code and Supreme Court decisions.
Hours later, Claire read the document and handed it to Drummond. The general, after reviewing, uttered a dry sentence:
— "This kid is light years ahead of other analysts."
Days Pass — July 2013
The weeks went by. Gustavo was now a regular presence at high-level meetings. He attended presentations by CIA agents, read NSA reports, and participated in debriefings with the FBI.
One night, Claire entered the cubicle where he worked.
— "Are you going out today?"
— "Maybe. Why?"
— "Networking dinner. In Georgetown. The chief prosecutor of the Military Justice and a judge from the National Security Court will be there. You have to come."
Gustavo, even tired, smiled. He knew that these events shaped careers.
Georgetown — Private Restaurant "Liberty House"
The atmosphere was classic: low lighting, Persian carpet, silent waiters. Gustavo was impeccable in his gray suit.
He was introduced to James Hathaway, a federal judge, and Rachel Fanning, an international security attorney.
— "So you want to be a cop?"
— "Yes, sir. But not just a cop. I want to apply the law with knowledge. With strategy."
Fanning smiled.
— "If you ever want to work in international law, call me. I have contacts in The Hague."
— "Thank you. But first I want to help the city that welcomed me: Los Angeles."
— "Fair enough."
August 2013 — Crisis Briefing Room, Pentagon
At the end of his internship, Gustavo was invited to attend as an observer a real meeting between members of the Joint Counterterrorism Legal Task Force.
Claire whispered to him:
— "You're the first foreign intern with clearance for this. Thank your ethics and your perfect grades."
At the oval table, important names discussed ongoing operations, based on legal opinions written, among others, by... him.
Gustavo said nothing. But deep down, he felt the weight and the honor of each line written behind the scenes.
Last Day — August 30, 2013
Drummond called him into his office, in private.
— "Silva, you have exceeded all expectations."
— "Thank you, sir."
— "You are not only a brilliant student. You are trustworthy. Discreet. And focused. If you ever want to work with us permanently, the doors are open."
— "I am honored, sir. But my mission is different."
— "To return to LA, put on the badge... and change things, right?"
Gustavo smiled.
— "Yes, sir."
Drummond extended his hand.
— "Good luck, son. And don't forget who you met here."
— "Never."
Text Message to Haley
Gustavo: "Last day at the DoD. It was bigger than I could have imagined. But I already miss home."
Haley: "DC must be awesome, but LA is waiting for you! And so am I... my store wants your VIP visit!"
Gustavo: "The first week I set foot there, the store will have a lawyer and a private security guard as a bonus."
Haley: "Deal. And after that, coxinha and guaraná. Promise?"
Gustavo: "I promise. Silva's word."
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