COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN by Joe Bergeron (best ebook reader for chromebook TXT) 📖

established at Kushima.
The former World War II Japanese army
Lieutenant continued his train of thought.
“Kushima’s decision to expand through the
Latin-American countries into South America will of
course be relative to costs, Mister Orefice.”
178
The Director, nodding silent affirmation,
encouraged more dialogue.
“What do you suppose, Mister Orefice, it would
cost Kushima in American dollars for the obvious
advantages both you and President Benson can offer my
humble company?”
“We’ve worked out a spread sheet based on the
industries I’ve identified, Mister Kushima. Our
projections show a possible gross revenue increase to
Kushima of between one point five to two billion dollars
during the first five years of full operation from plants
on the Cuban island. Because this initial thrust will be
basically low-intensity, high-output manufacturing,
your return on investment should realize margins of at
lease thirty-two percent. By anyone’s standards, that’s
considerable.”
The Eastern businessman had actually
calculated thirty-five percent.
It doesn’t become inconceivable that the
leverage offered to guarantee this return should have a
value of worthy of the investment. To propel safe
passage through the democratic process, and also to
discourage the investment of McKenzie, we’d ask a
management fee of ten percent of the most conservative
estimate of the first two years gross sales.”
The statement was made as if one hundred
fifty million dollars was possible to take in one bank
draft.
It was…and both men knew it.
The Oriental rose from his chair.
Walking slowly to a teak-paneled wall, his
approach over three floor sensors caused the paneling to
split, revealing a fully-stocked wet bar.
“Mister Orefice, please join me. I will not offer
a traditional Japanese toast, but rather something I
know you will enjoy.”
179
Opening a refrigerator panel, he produced two
long-neck bottles of Michelob from its innards, the CIA
Director’s choice of beverage when alcohol was offered.
“I see my reputation precedes me, Mister
Kushima. At the agency they say real Agents only
drink scotch. I disappoint my people at every company
function.”
“Better to disappoint them at a social function,
Mister Orefice, than in the streets of Moscow or
Beijing.”
Filling two eight ounce twenty-four karat gold
appointed glasses with the classic brew, he offered his
guest a toast - and a remunerated exit.
“To our understanding, Mister Orefice. On
your way out, you shall receive several Panamanian
and Puerto Rican bank account numbers with their
corresponding institutions listed next to them on plain
white paper. I’m sure you will find everything in order
with a few phone calls. I will await the result of the
Cuban government’s decision on who shall have
contracted rights to build a facility on their island.
Once I have a contract, your accounts will be activated,
and you may then retire from public service.”
“I’ll meet with the President to relay all this
information. I don’t see any problem for you, only
prosperity.”
He raised his glass of beer to the
businessman’s, the thought of his actions perfectly
balanced with a Presidential order he understood
completely.
Money is one of the great motivators, but not
the greatest, by far.
180
Monday, May 22, 8:30 a.m. Washington D.C. Time
From his chair in the Oval Office, he could see
the green light blinking on the telephone set. The two
U.S. Senators sitting before him were the Chairman
and Vice Chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations. They’d asked for this meeting to brief
him with a preliminary outline on a proposal. They
were unaware of the telephone signal because it
produced no sound, only an alternating green glow.
“Gentlemen, I’ll seriously consider the proposal
from the other side of the aisle, but I won’t make you
any promises.”
The senior of the two committee members took
the hint. This meeting was over.
“That’s fair Mister President, and all that we
ask.”
Looking at his peer, he nodded the evident
conclusion and rose, as did Randal Benson.
“I’ll have the Chief of Staff contact you on
Thursday.”
This was euphemistic for, ‘don’t get your hopes
up.’
Exiting the Oval Office, they both understood.
Returning to his chair, he pushed the
appropriate button, the only line his caller would use.
“Scotty, I’m sorry I held you up.”
“That’s no problem, Mister President. I’m back
at the embassy. The meeting was brief, and to the
point. Everything I’ve discussed with him to date is in
order. He’s arranged for a transfer of funds through
several Panamanian and Puerto Rican banks. I’ll check
out the availability, but I’m sure I’ll find everything in
order.”
“What does he expect next? I’ll have to speak
to Santiago.”
181
“He’s looking for an instrument, as we agreed.
I told him about Patrick McKenzie.”
“What was his reaction, Scotty?”
“Understated suspicion, tempered with equally
understated elation.”
“Scotty, I know David Eisenberg is talking to
Wirtham about the McKenzie situation. Is it under
control?”
“For now, yes. We’re keeping a close watch on
it.”
“What’s the status on Kushima’s window? Will
it work?”
“The fax machine is on a table in the northwest
corner of the office. The windows are strong, and the
angle is tricky, but the shot’s not beyond our capability.
We’ll use a double operative for redundancy.”
“Almost doesn’t work here, Scotty, if it’s not
perfect, we need another plan.”
“I’ll guarantee it Mister President. I have
extreme confidence in our people.”
“If you say so, it’s your line of work. I’m going
to contact Santiago, and set the wheels in motion.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll speak with you soon.”
An alternate plan would be necessary,
and it would work just as well.
Randall Benson opened the side drawer in his
desk containing a single book, and an envelope.
It was the envelope he withdrew VISION 1
ONLY, the old photo was pulled and reviewed again.
“God rest your soul Johnathon, and may He
forgive me for my actions.”
Standing, he turned to review the r
Rose Garden, it’s peaceful beauty always a sedative for
him during extreme and sensitive procedures. He was
resolved and deliberate.
The Madman of Battan, Lieutenant Saito
Kushima would finally pay for his war crimes.
182
Chapter 7
Review and Implementation
Thursday, May 23, 1035 a.m.
The décor of the inner sanctum at the highest
level of the Commerce Department rivaled the best
design of any CEO’s office in corporate America -
testimony to Commerce Secretary George Tollman’s
accustomed lifestyle.
It’s carpeting, plush blue, was inlaid with the
insignia of Office. Half-back, glove leather waiting
chairs surrounded a trio of white Italian marble coffee
tables displaying the most current issues of FORBES,
THE HARVARD BUSINESS REVIEW, and six other
national business publications on their perfectlymachined
and polished surfaces.
Down the corridor, in another office, Tollman’s
associate sat idly, flipping through a copy of FORTUNE.
There was no need to further review the contents in his
briefcase. Tollman would tell him what to do with the
information, he having received it by special courier the
day prior.
An article on the development of recycled
plastic resins had just caught his attention when she
called him..
“The Secretary is free now.”
The Commerce Secretary’s Administrative
Assistant motioned with her right arm toward the
beginning of a corridor leading to the opulent, Cabinet-
Level Secretary’s office.
“Can I get you another coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
Tollman didn’t get up. His only greeting was a
motion to sit.
183
Before him lay a copy of the computer printout
supplied by Michael Courtney via a pony tailed garage
attendant, and a blind P.O. Box at the main Denver,
Colorado Post Office.”
His first statement was a question.
“Tell me what you think of the list and the
organization.”
He’d done his homework, and did not need to
review the two pages of notes he’d written.
“Tell me what you think of the list and the
organization.”
“He’s apparently got three hundred writers
across the country. He hasn’t accessed the largest
metropolitan newspapers yet, but he does have a lot of
minor, and some medium-sized circulation papers.
There aren’t too many high income readers in the
circulations of the papers he has, but I suppose he’s
working on developing the bigger media. I’d say it’s a
good list.”
Tollman’s associate scratched his head.
“The thing I don’t understand is why this
organization exists. Our information on both Wirtham
and Courtney doesn’t tell us anything; they’re both
clean as a whistle. No tight political affiliations with
either party - no union contacts - no underworld
relations - no drug culture. They have a power base
with no revealing payoff. There’s got to be more than
we know about right now. Courtney obviously runs the
show, but Wirtham sets the directon. They both believe
in all that philosophical crap…”
Tollman quick interrupted, voice raised.
“For the third time, it’s not crap. Courtney is a
Tao Xia Master. The people who gave him that
designation are the same people corporate America calls
on to help develop new products, do their research, and
advise them on management policy. We’re not dealing
with lightweights, and the sooner you realize that, the
easier it’ll be for you to get your job done.”
184
He could see an uneasiness in his NSA
associate, but he knew it was related to the tone of his
voice, and not the content of his dialogue.
“Just accept it that we have an adversary who’s
as smart as we think we are. Did you check out Yankee
Echo with your contacts at the CIA and FBI?”
“I didn’t divulge the name, but if I’d hit
something sensitive, I’d have been told to keep hands
off, which I wasn’t. I even asked a few people in G-2
spots at the military desks if they knew of any covert
ops being run in the private sector. No one has any
information on Yankee Echo, or they’re just not telling
me about it if they do.”
“Then apparently they have their own reason
for existence. It’s not as important right now as it is
that we have their attention, and they’re cooperating. “
“Here’s a one page summary of how I want
their writers to direct their stories. I also put together
a schedule of release dates.”
Leaning forward, the Secretary handed copies
of both to his associate.
“I’m meeting with the President tomorrow to
review my trip to Cuba. He’s gone along with my plans
to date and I’m not going to throw any big surprises on
him. Benson still has U.S. public support, and
Santiago’s commitment, but we’re going to change all
that in the next ninety days. Once his support drops
off, it’ll be hard for him to pick up the pace again. If we
can get the Cuban military behind Belize, Santiago’s
going to be in a jam, with, or without Benson.”
“What do you want me to do now?”
“Contact Courtney this afternoon.”
185
Tuesday, May 13, 1:17 p.m.
Sitting in JGM’s conference room, the Analyst
continued to write notes to himself.
‘Belize, Catalina Salazar, Bellcamp, to guys at
Bellcamp’s, Griffin, Tollman, Mister Eloquent, Pat, Me,
Kay, Robert, Shooter, Rock Thrower, Andy, Y.E.,
Writers’
Her question interrupted his thoughts.
“Michael, what are the odds that Dan
Bellcamp’s Catalina, and the Catalina that called Tom
Griffin, and the Catalina that showed up in the Cuban
data, are the same person?”
There was no need for him to ponder this
inquiry.
“I’d say it’s a sure thing.”
“Robert’s getting me background data on
Tollman, Griffin and Belize. Do you think Tom Griffin’s
tied up in this?”
“I think it’s too early to tell. We probably
shouldn’t throw anything out until we’re convinced
beyond a doubt.”
He’d penned an objective at the top of his notes.
‘Keep American corporations from investing in
Cuba.’
“The breachers want to dismantle public
support for the President’s trade program with Cuba.
Ultimately that means they want to keep corporate
America from investing U.S. dollars on the island.
Bellcamp obviously gave Catalina Salazar our address,
among other