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

pulled the ‘Vision 1 Only’
portfolio from his side desk drawer for the last time. It
would be destroyed after this final review.
Moisture formed on his top lip. His palms
sweat. The acid in his stomach reacted.
The document detailed the events that had
occurred on April 15, 1942 in a Japanese prisoner of
war camp on the Batan Islands in the Philippines.
Two captured Americans had been causing
trouble for the Camp Commander, First Lieutenant
Saito Kushima.
Twin brothers, Randall and Johnathon Benson,
both officers with the Army Engineers, had been
encouraging their fellow prisoners to withhold
information regarding American troop strengths on the
island. Additionally, both had tried to escape twice,
their plan being foiled each time. Kushima had called
for a camp formation at noon, and had directed his men
to erect a platform which would act as a stage.
At 12:15 p.m., the camp was called to attention.
The Benson brothers were pulled from formation to
stand with Kushima and his staff on the platform.
Both were shackled at the wrists and ankles.
The Japanese Commander had a photographer
taking pictures of the assembly which would later be
hung in strategic positions around the camp.
Randall and Johnathon Benson, like all the
other prisoners had had their dog tags removed, and
were stripped of all other identification.
The brothers were told to kneel and bow before
the Camp Commander who would make a speech about
discipline, finishing with the remark that those who
were undisciplined would be severely punished. 345
Concluding his remarks, and drawing his
sword, the Commander established his type of
discipline with a savage down-stroke beheading
Johnathon Benson. His brother was made to haul away
the body, dig a grave, and bury it.
The President lay his head on his desk,
sobbing.
Sunday, May 28, 8:55 a.m.
Eisenberg, changing to the passing lane on the
Beltway responded to the shrill ring of his car
telephone.
“Yes.”
It was The Wanderer, his ‘cabby’.
“We have a report from some friends about a
fire on the Cuban island. It’s the Vice President’s villa.
It happened several hours ago, and there’s nothing left
of the house. Patrick McKenzie’s been rescued. Belize
and his mistress are dead. There’s a lot of troops
around the area.”
“Belize is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Courtney and St. Croix?”
“Yes, and probably with the help of a Navy Zero
team.”
“Where will they show up?”
“Not sure right now. We think most likely in
the Keys, or somewhere on the lower Gulf coast.”
“How are they traveling?”
“By air - most likely helicopter. We’ll catch up
with them, or they’ll catch up with us.”
“We want Courtney - and don’t forget, he’s got
McKenzie.”
“I understand.”
“Keep me informed with updates.”
“I will.”
346
Eisenberg called his boss to inform him of the
latest news. The Director would need to tell the
President some of it in an early evening briefing, but
he’d also withhold some of it until morning. He was
sure the Cubans wouldn’t let it get out.
Sunday, May 28, 9:03 a.m.
Allen Bates checked his artificial horizon. At
one hundred feet off the water, and with minimum fuel
reserve, he needed hard ground.
The Zero compound was two miles ahead.
They’d passed over only two small sailing craft on entry,
and no vehicles or personnel on land could be seen
which would notice their approach.
Speaking into his mouth piece, he alerted the
team.
“ETA, one minute.”
Coverty addressed Courtney.
“We’re going to refuel - we’ll need to talk.”
Courtney acknowledged.
“We will.”
Bates, settling the Huey in the compound,
disengaged the rotors.
Courtney made one final communication
through his headset.
“Andy, Pat, come with me.”
Stepping from the chopper, the three men
headed toward the small wooden structure two hundred
feet to their south.
Bates and Coverty would refuel and check the
Huey for any possible damages occurred during the
engagement with the Cubans.
Inside the building, they found three rooms
and a full bathroom. One of the rooms contained
various camouflage clothing in assorted sizes, and two
tables with huge maps on their surfaces.
347
Another room had three sets of bunk beds, a
small refrigerator, and equally small stove, sink, with
cabinets above and to its left, and a small dining table
surrounded by four wooden chairs. The room they’d
entered contained a few chairs, radio equipment, TV, a
desk with two telephones on its top, and what appeared
to be a small conference table with six wooden chairs
around its perimeter.
The absence of dust anywhere led Courtney to
believe this outpost had people coming in and out of it
frequently. The phones gave him an opportunity to
begin a conversation. He spoke to St. Croix, but his
message was subtly intended for McKenzie.
“I wonder who we’d get if we picked up one of
those receivers.”
“Y’all wouldn’t get an AT&T operator, Mick.”
Courtney turned to McKenzie.
“So, Pat, you’ve had quite a journey for
yourself. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, you look
OK. You, me, and Andy have a few things to square
away, Pat. And before we tell anyone where we are,
Andy and I want the whole story on Yankee Echo. We
also have a couple things to tell you that you’re going to
find revealing.”
McKenzie, taking short steps, walked away
from the other two men, summarily taking a seat at the
apparent conference table. Courtney and St. Croix
remained standing.
Taking a minute to review his thoughts, he
decided they knew enough about the truth to recognize
it as a falsehood.
“Michael, Andy - please, sit.”
Both accepted the invitation, and were now
sitting next to each other, and opposite the founder of
Yankee Echo.
348
He began.
“Neither of you were ever lied to, but you also
weren’t told everything about the organization……”
For an hour, he detailed the size and scope of
the organization; number of writers, who controlled it,
why he’d formed it years ago with Wirtham.
He gave them almost all of it.
Courtney gave him his thoughts.
“Pat, I won’t ask you why you couldn’t trust me
with the truth, and I think I speak for Andy here too.
Actually, it’s pretty evident. It was safer to keep it just
between you, Kay and Robert. But I’m going to tell you
something else. I thought we did a lot of good - hell, I
know we did. What I don’t know is what I did to Protect
CIA and corporate interests, and I don’t want to know.
It isn’t a real neat idea, Pat, to give a U.S. intelligence
organization, and a bunch of corporations, control over
the content of this country’s newspapers. Actually, I
think it’s pretty damned stupid to be involved with this
at any level now.”
McKenzie reminded him of the facts.
“That’s the way it is, Michael. We can’t give it
up. It’s too important to us.”
Courtney turned to St. Croix.
“How do you feel, Andy.”
The Zero, hands folded on the table, gave a
brief confirming answer.
“A’hm in line with Y’all, Mick.”
McKenzie nodded at the two of them.
Courtney was still McKenzie’s employee, and
he felt a strange loyalty to detail everything for him
that had occurred since May 19’th.
Telling him he was certain it was George
Tollman who killed his son, John, he saw both anger
and sorrow in the older man’s eyes. He wouldn’t tell
him Tollman was part of the breach. He was saving
that piece for Eisenberg.
349
Continuing, he told the CEO the writers had
been instructed to develop negative stories regarding
the Cuban reform plan, but the TAC could be pulled
now that he was safe.
He also told him he and Kay had split up.
She’d left Washington on her own, and he wasn’t sure
where she was.
McKenzie knew Eisenberg would cover her.
When Courtney finished, he asked St. Croix to
join him outside. Leaving their boss behind, the two
exited the structure.
The analyst was beginning implementation on
a Decision Theory plan that had actually existed in his
mind from the day he’d joined the organization. He
never expected to have to implement it.
“Andy, give me your best guess on what’s going
to happen next?”
“Pretty clear to me, Mick. Eisenberg’s gonna
track our butts until he’s got us.”
“What happens then?”
“He talks to us. Asks us to stay on. Ah don’t
know, Mick. These people don’t want us to walk away
from Yankee Echo. Don’t forget, they still have the big
breacher to deal with.”
“The big breacher, besides Bellcamp, was
Tollman, Andy”
“Huh?”
“Belize told me on his lawn when I threatened
to blow his friend’s brains out.”
“Well then, with Pat back, hell, we should get a
damn medal.”
“They don’t know it yet.”
“So, why keep it a secret?”
“Because that’s our only Ace right now.”
“So, what’s the plan, Mick?”
“We shut down Yankee Echo…at least for a
while.”
“Ah don’t think so friend. The CIA won’t like
us doin that.” 350
“They won’t know we did it.”
Sunday, May 28, 9:18 a.m. Tokyo Time
Saito Kushima had just finished his final draft
on the contract to build a manufacturing plant in the
Democratic State of Cuba.
The telephone ringing on the table behind him
was answered in another room by a legal assistant
called to his home to review the plan. His knock on the
door was recognized.
“Yes.”
Entering, the assistant informed him there was
a call from the United States - a Mister Orefice.
Two taps on his phone’s keypad made the call
totally private, and secure.
“This is Kushima.”
“Mister Kushima, this is Scott Orefice - good
morning, Sir.”
“Yes, Mister Orefice, I was just finishing my
final edits on the contract, and am now reviewing them
with my top legal aide.”
“That’s fine, Mister Kushima. There’s some
events which have occurred that will require we act
immediately on this matter.”
“What would those events be, my friend?”
“Patrick McKenzie has been rescued from the
island of Cuba.”
“Is that so - when did this happen?”
“In a daring raid within the last twenty-four
hours. Two of his people, with the aid of some others
were able to successfully extricate him from the island.”
“And where is he now?”
“He’s back on American soil - but he isn’t the
only reason we need to be urgent. The President feels
immediate action is necessary because interests in the
power systems industry are beginning to pressure both
his office and some of our Senators.
351
As I’m sure you know, once those types of industries are
operational in Cube, the State will then be calling in
the electronics and other support industries. The
President and I both want your contract to precede the
power systems people so there’s no political fallout later
on.”
It made sense.
“Very well, my friend. I will make
arrangements to fly to Cuba. How long will you need to
establish a date with President Santiago?”
“It’s being done as we speak, Mister Kushima.
The President has instructed me to personally escort
you, and I’ll be leaving this evening to pick you up in
Japan with one of the President’s aircraft. Of course,
you realize we’ll need one half the payment before we
leave.”
‘A private escort by the Director of The Central
Intelligence Agency?’
“Mister Orefice, I’m sure you are aware
Kushima has its own aircraft, and we are quite capable
of transporting ourselves around the world.”
“Yes, but there was a development in Cuba
during Patrick McKenzie’s rescue that would make your
entrance and appearance on the island less of a threat
to anyone if you were accompanied by me. We’ve been
told by our people in on the island, that during the raid
to rescue McKenzie, the Vice President’s villa was
completely destroyed by fire. It was all cause by
exploding rockets. We don’t know