Fantastic Voyage

by Howard Altman

The Keystoner whooshed past misty farm fields, past a grass hut built on a table-sized island in the Susquehanna, past the Springfieldian towers of Three Mile Island, past the burned-out hulk of an airplane parked at the edge of a runway at Harrisburg International Airport.

It hurtled through the early dawn, first light of day breaking in vivid pinks and yellows and reds, carrying me away from Philly, toward a mess of my own making.

After a day of watching Ira Einhorn, the hedonistic, hygienically challenged narcissist, profess his love for the woman he is accused of stuffing into a steamer trunk in his closet, I was on my way to a different courtroom, in a different part of the state.

Nobody in Courtroom 5 at the Federal Building in Harrisburg stood accused this morning of anything quite as heinous as what Einhorn will probably be convicted of.

There was a kid on crutches who was indicted for helping to sell 47 guns to felons who shouldn't have them. There were three guys speaking French whose reasons for being there I couldn't figure out. And there was the guy I came to see.

Maurice D. Threats looked a lot different this time around.

The last time I saw him, back in March, he was wearing the uniform of an Army MP. He was holding an M-16. And he was guarding myself and photographer Christina Felice.

We'd stumbled onto Site R, also known as the Alternate Joint Communications Center, also known as the Underground Pentagon, Harry's Hole and the home of the so-called Shadow Government. Felice, at my behest, took a picture of the outside of the facility, which seemed like a good idea at the time even though in the back of my mind I kind of figured it was a mistake.

We were thus introduced to Threats, his fellow MPs and later a local cop and a sheriff, none of whom were amused to see us and, especially, Felice's camera. They took our IDs and Felice's film (which we later got back, sans pictures of Site R). Long, oft-repeated story short: We got back to the office, found an e-mail from someone calling himself Mr. Fantastic offering to sell us pictures from inside the facility. Upon the advice of our attorney, the late, great Sam Klein, I contacted the feds, who ultimately stung the man sitting in Courtroom 5 by posing as newspaper employees wanting to buy said pictures.

This time around, Threats was not the threatening hulk of a soldier he was the last time I saw him.

He looked like a big kid, dressed in a green, checked shirt, blue jeans and boots.

I sat down on the bench and pulled out my reporter's notebook, ready to scribble down anything interesting that might transpire. The man sitting next to Threats saw the notebook and introduced himself as Thomas Thornton, the federal public defender Threats had been assigned.

I shook Threats' hand, then I shook Thornton's. Both men were more then pleasant, surprisingly so considering that if not for me, Threats might not be sitting here, awaiting arraignment and facing 27 years in jail on espionage and bribery charges. Then again, if the financially strapped Threats was willing to sell to me, he'd probably be willing to sell to al-Qaeda. They have a lot more money than City Paper.

Federal Magistrate Andrew Smyser read the charges against Threats, who entered the usual not-guilty plea, which Thorton explained was merely a tactic because he is hoping to work out a plea deal with the government.

Smyser then released Threats on his own recognizance under the proviso that he is to inform the court if he changes address, something which might happen, Thornton told Smyser.

A few minutes later, as Threats was being processed, Thornton returned to the courtroom to speak with me and an AP reporter. Though Threats would not be talking, Thornton explained that his client has been removed from guard duty and placed on desk duty.

"Basically, he's picking weeds," said Thornton, adding that because of the indictment and attendant publicity, Threats is an ostracized outcast at Site R.

That said, Threats might move back on base from his current home in Cascade, Md.

"He might actually be safer there," Thorton said. Threats, after all, had received threatening calls from people promising to blow up his home.

Thornton went on to say that he's heard nothing further from the FBI about which newspaper the feds claimed to be affiliated with when they videotaped Threats offering to sell the pictures. He added that the mystery might be cleared up in the next 10 days, when the prosecution must turn over the evidence it has against Threats.

A lot more mysteries about this case might be cleared up if it goes to trial as scheduled in the middle of December. Whether the prosecution agrees to a plea deal is another mystery, one I couldn't answer because the prosecutor who could talk about this case was out of town.

What's no mystery is this: If there is a trial, I'll be taking another early morning train back out to Harrisburg.