The Truth Behind the Lens

By Paul Antonucci

Paul Mitchell and Matthew Pierce used to work for the United Federation for Defense of America, a government agency based in Washington, DC. They happen to come across a government cover-up involving the attack on the Twin Towers back in 2001. When a string of mysterious deaths and disappearances happen across the country, they meet again in Lower Manhattan to launch their own investigation. During their quest to discover the truth, they receive an anonymous folder from another whistle-blower who wants to remain hidden in the shadows. Paul calls in Amanda Knox, a former intelligence officer to assist with their probe. They plan to send the information to the president of the United States, Michael Atlas, but he might not take them seriously as his own career is on the line. As their probe progresses, Paul and Amanda take a romantic interest in each other as the walls start to slowly close in around them. Will they expose what no one else could, or will they become the government's next victims?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645441908

Book preview

cover.jpg

The Truth behind the Lens

Paul Antonucci

Copyright © 2019 Paul Antonucci

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64544-189-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64544-190-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Prologue

August 17, 2001

Windows on the World 107th floor, North Tower

The elevator doors open, revealing New York’s finest restaurant. Numerous light sculptures flood the hallway which lead to the main ballroom where a special ceremony is about to take place. Among the hundreds of people, stepping off the elevator is Paul Mitchell, a twenty-two-year-old employee of the United Federation for Defense of America. He’s dressed in a black suit along with a long red tie and black pants. Paul was born on May 3, 1979, on Long Island to wealthy parents in Sands Point. His mother, Sabrina, is an accountant, while his father, Mark, is a high-flying businessman. Now, Paul and his parents are attending the wedding of his cousin Roy. He notices his longtime childhood friend Alyssa is their greeter for the evening.

Alyssa is twenty-six years old, has long brown hair and brown eyes, and has a nice charming smile to brighten anyone’s day. She moved to Sands Point at the age of twelve, where she and Paul developed a friendship. They would hang out every weekend at his house where she became a close family friend. Now she’s the greeter at the most famous restaurant in the Big Apple.

Oh my god, Paul, it’s so nice to see you again, Alyssa says, giving him a big hug.

It’s so nice to see you too. Boy, you look great, Paul says, smiling.

Thank you. I get that a lot around here. Now, you’re here for your cousin’s wedding, so I’ll show you to your seats, Alyssa says.

Paul looks out the many windows and sees the pink glow of the sunset light up the ballroom area.

Wow, this place is incredible, he says.

I’m glad you like it, but whatever job you have certainly can’t be better than mine, Alyssa jokes.

Oh, I think it is, honey. I work for the federal government, Paul says with a serious face.

No, you don’t, Alyssa says.

Do want some ID? Paul asks as he shows her his badge.

Alyssa is shocked and retracts her statement. Wow, you’re right, your job is better than mine. Right this way, sir, she says.

Alyssa shows them their table and hands out several menus before heading off into another room. Paul’s mom Sabrina looks at him in disgust at what she just heard. Seriously Paul, what was that? she asks angrily.

Relax, Mom, I’m just being myself, Paul says.

Well, stop it, his mom whispers.

You know what, I’m headed to the restroom, he says, clenching his teeth together.

Paul takes his time to head down a floor to the wine cellar to browse at all the fancy bottles when an employee of the restaurant John approaches him.

There are so many bottles to choose from and so expensive, Paul says.

Yeah, well, pick any one you want and have a seat, John says to Paul.

He walks over to the main ballroom where numerous guests talk among themselves while Alan Jenkins plays the piano in the background. Paul looks over and sees a very fit man named Matthew Pierce with his date, Anne Smith. Matt was born on March 13, 1980, in Brooklyn to an average middle-class family. His mother was an emergency room nurse while his father worked at the airport as a security guard. Tonight, he’s dressed in a black suit, along with a small black bow tie, and black pants.

Paul walks over to Matt’s table, the only one set up in the cellar, and sits down next to him.

Can I help you? he asks angrily.

Yeah, you have to try this wine. It’s fucking amazing, Paul says with joy.

If I do, will you leave me and my date alone? he says angrily.

Honey, you need to calm down, Anne says. I’m sorry, just ignore him when he does that. I’m Anne, she says, as she shakes Paul’s hand.

Fine, give me a glass, he says. Matt takes a sip and feels a rush that races through his body like a race car on a speedway. Wow, that’s incredible, Matt says. He gives some to Anne and she agrees to try some.

That’s amazing, Anne replies.

Now, who are you, and what brings you to Windows? Matt asks.

Paul looks out the window and sees the skyline glistening before turning back and says, I’m Paul Mitchell. I work for the United Federation for Defense of America in DC, and my cousin Roy is getting married upstairs.

Well, that’s great news. I wish your cousin luck. As far as employment goes, I’m in the same agency, Matt says. Matthew Pierce, he says, and they shake hands. How come I haven’t seen you around before? Matt asks.

I probably work in a different building. After all, it’s a pretty big complex, Paul says.

It was nice meeting you. Now, I want to finish my dinner, Matt says.

No problem, see you around, Paul says.

They end their conversation and Paul heads back upstairs, where his mother waits impatiently.

Where have you been, I’ve been looking everywhere, she says angrily.

Relax, I was downstairs chatting with a coworker, Paul explains.

You’re not here to make friends. We’re here to celebrate a wedding and have a good time, his mom says.

I understand. I was just checking some stuff out downstairs, Paul continues to explain.

It’s about to start so take your seat, his mother says.

The pastor steps forward where Roy Harris and his soon-to-be wife, Marissa, takes each other’s hands.

Do you, Roy Harris, take Marissa Banks to be your lawfully wedded wife? the pastor asks.

Yes, I do, he says.

Do you, Marissa Banks, take Roy Harris to be your lawfully wedded husband? the pastor asks again.

Yes, I do, she says.

I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, the pastor says.

Roy and Marissa kiss as confetti rains down from the ceiling and the live band starts playing music to celebrate the moment. Sabrina tries to hold back her tears as Paul sips his wine while enjoying the music.

He walks over to Alyssa, who’s standing by the bar with several other staff members.

Congratulations, she says, smiling.

Thanks, you want to dance? he asks.

I can’t, Paul. I’m working here, and besides, if the general manager sees me, I’ll get fired, she explains.

I understand, Alyssa, you have a point, he says.

That’s okay, but I’ll be here if you need anything, she responds.

Back downstairs, Matt and Anne are wrapping up their date when a waiter of Italian descent checks up on them to see if everything meets their standard.

One of the best meals we’ve ever had, Matt says with a smile.

I’m glad you enjoyed it. After all, this is the most popular restaurant in the city, the waiter says with a wink. He hands him the check, and Matt can’t believe how much money he will spend in one night.

I’m literally emptying out my bank account for this, Matt says, almost choking.

Relax, you have enough and besides, it’s only a few hundred, Anne says.

Fine, Matt says with his teeth together.

That guy that came down here before seemed like a nice person, Anne says.

Yeah, well I can tell they’re having a good time right above our heads, Matt implies. I’m going to let them enjoy themselves while we head out of here. Maybe I’ll see that guy on Monday, Matt jokes.

Twenty-five days after the most perfect night of their lives, the towers collapsed. Nearly three thousand innocent people would lose their lives, and a nation would be forever changed. Paul’s longtime friend Alyssa would be among the three thousand people killed. Paul and Matt eventually became best friends then partners for their agency. The two would end up exposing the biggest conspiracy in the world while trying to stay alive.

Chapter 1

May 2017

The sun rose over New York City, not a cloud in the sky. Driving into the Manhattan is Paul Mitchell, now thirty-eight years old. He now has a trimmed beard along with dark black hair. He’s heading into the city to meet his friend Matt, whom he hasn’t seen in over a decade. As he parks his car on a side street, he sees several dozen people protesting and shouting, Our government is corrupt and needs to be exposed!

He runs over to one of the protesters and grabs him by his collar and says, What the fuck is your problem, man?

I’ll tell you what my problem is—the guy says, screaming—our damn government needs to come clean about what happened sixteen years ago with the World Trade Center!

We know what happened sixteen years ago, Paul says with anger.

I am not buying any of it. We can’t trust them anymore! the guy shouts.

For your information, I’m an employee of your so-called corrupt government, Paul explains.

Then you’re a part of this. Get the fuck away from me! the guy shouts again.

You people are fucking nuts, Paul says, heading back to his car.

Admit it, you guys are hiding something! the guy shouts at the top of his lungs as Paul drives away.

Paul arrives at the restaurant where Matt Pierce, now age thirty-seven, waits. Matt has brown hair and a visible mustache. Just as he’s about to head to the restroom, Paul walks in and high-fives his buddy and gives him a bro hug.

Holy crap, Paul, you grew a beard, Matt says.

You grew a mustache, Paul says back. They sit down at the table, and Paul mentions the protestors in the street. "You