Forged in Honor (1995) (19 page)

Cutter from State leaned forward and calmly spoke. "Gentlemen, isn't that the point? That we don't know? I suggest that we stay on track here. This subgroup was brought together to look at the evidence thus far produced and discuss how to confirm or deny Burmese government involvement. If we send teams into those areas, we will find out whether the buildings under the nets are producing heroin or fertilizer."

Director Jennings softened his glare at Tuckerman. "John, we should have brought you in-we screwed up and we apologize. You're in now, and we're wasting time arguing.

We have to send some teams in and find out exactly what is going on."

"The president will never approve such an operation,"

Tuckerman said smugly.

Jennings looked the DEA director in the eyes and spoke in a steely monotone. "He already has."

Tuckerman was a political animal and knew when to change course. His face changed expression and he found a spot on the wall to stare at. "In that case, the DEA will support you in any way we can."

Jennings smiled inwardly at the small victory as he shifted his gaze to the deputy director of the FBI. "Carl, you heard our agent's taped call. We need your help in running down any Burmese nationals who may be in the country on bogus passports and visas."

The deputy director shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Of course we'll do it, but you know as well as I do that if they are any good at all they'll have changed identities once they cleared Customs. We'll see what we can do, but unless they're real stupid I wouldn't be counting on much in the three-week time window you've given us."

Jennings nodded. "It's a tough one, Carl, but try." He leaned back and took a cigar out of his pocket. "Gentlemen, that's it. You now know all that we do. Please keep me informed if anything pops up in your areas. If you'll please excuse us, the Intel committee members have other matters to discuss. Thank you all for your cooperation."

Tuckerman eyed the director. He had just been politely told to leave along with the Justice and Treasury representatives, but he wanted the director to say it to his face. "Do I stay for this or not?" he asked, as if unsure.

"Sorry, John, this is need-to-know only," Jennings said matter-of-factly without looking up from the notes he was reading.

Tuckerman bristled and shoved back his chair. "Fine. But I better be kept in the loop on all matters concerning the DEA."

Jennings nodded to let the DEA director know his comment was noted, and Tuckerman, satisfied he'd shown the proper amount of indignation, left quietly with the others.

As soon as the conference room door shut, General Summer stood, moved back to the screen, and faced Jennings and Cutter "We have a problem. My staff consolidated the folders of possible candidates that your deputies provided, and I'm afraid we have only ten submissions. It's not easy to find qualified personnel who have ever lived or worked in northern Burma. The country has been closed to foreigners since 1960, so the problem is age. Most of our people who worked there in the 1950s and 1960s were in their late twenties and early thirties at the time. Those people are now in their fifties and sixties." Summer nodded to his assistant, who put up a slide that showed the file summary and a small photo of the first candidate. "Here's the most promising candidate. He retired from the army just four years ago, and he is uniquely qualified-he speaks the language and grew up in the northern part of the country."

"Boss? Boss, it's noon."

Josh raised his head and looked toward the creek. "If he's around, he's in the cage eatin' Ky's fish heads. It's time."

Within minutes they were back in the boat in the middle of the canal. Both men grabbed hold of the nylon rope beneath the bottles and Josh whispered, "On three. One ... two ... now!"

They pulled upward with all their might. For an instant nothing happened; the trap seemed to be full of concrete and wouldn't budge. But then they felt it slowly begin inching up with each hand-over-hand pull. Josh grabbed another handful and yelled crazily, "I got you! I got you!"

He excitedly reached down for another grip and pulled but felt a powerful jerk, then hardly any resistance. Josh's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he kept pulling, hoping that somehow the King was still inside. When the trap surfaced, Josh took one look and yelled at the water, "Laugh now, ya bastard, but we will be back!"

Bob leaned over to inspect the cage and saw that the bottom grille was gone-the spot welds had not been able to take the weight of whatever had been inside. He looked at his seething boss and knew he was already designing a new trap in his mind. Bob shut his eyes and could still hear his mentor's challenging words echoing down the tree-lined banks.

The word "we" seemed to echo most clearly, and it reverberated in his head until he realized what it meant. Oh shit, he thought, this must be how the crew felt when Captain Ahab spotted Moby Dick.

Cutter worriedly looked at the others. "We don't have a choice."

"Let's go over the other files again. Maybe we were too quick in rejecting some of them," General Summer said, trying to stay optimistic.

Jennings took the cigar out of his mouth and shook his head. "Look, let's cut the shit and face reality. We have only two qualified candidates. The rest of them are good men but they're over fifty. We're talking about an infiltration into rugged mountain terrain. The team will have to hump to the site after being inserted and hump back to a pickup point.

They're going to have to move fast while carrying at least fifty pounds of equipment, food, and water. Hell, the two candidates we do have are in their forties. Even they may not be able to do it. We've got only three weeks to find the damn answer and we don't have time to get them in shape if they've gained weight or gotten lazy since their photos were taken. Christ, they might both be dead for all we know."

Cutter looked at the director in disbelief. "Are you saying we're wasting our time?"

Jennings snapped his head around. "Hell no! You were right when you said we don't have a choice. We'll have to find these two men and see what we've got. Either way, we need their experience at least to brief my men about the area.

We'll use our Special Reconnaissance Unit to do the mission.

They don't know anything about Burma, but they're damn good."

Cutter looked over his glasses. "The two candidates might not have to go in?"

"Depends. If they know the area around one of the facilities then we'll use them, because it ups our chances of success. Both candidates are trained pros; we couldn't ask for anything better. If they're willing and able, they go in." Cutter nodded and shifted his eyes to General Summer. "Both men are retired army and are receiving retirement pay. Am I correct in assuming your people should have no problem finding them?"

Summer smiled confidently. "If they are living in the United States, we'll have both men here within twenty-four hours. That's a guarantee."

Jennings stuck his cigar in the side of his mouth and mumbled, "Poor bastards."

Ky heard the bell ring and tossed down the basket of crabs he'd been carrying. He strode to the back door and flung it open. "Who you?" he barked.

"Sir, I'm Bob Stevenson, Mr. Hawkins's assistant. He told me to drop off this load of turtles for you."

"Where Josh?"

"Sir, Mr. Hawkins had an appointment. I'm sorry, but he told me to tell you, 'You old goat, if you don't pay the agreed full amount I'll use your hide as bait tomorrow.' "

Ky looked at the squirming turtles in the boat. "They not very big. How many?"

"Thirteen, sir. I believe they will all weigh more than three pounds."

Ky shook his head. "No, no, I weigh fish all time. It my business for many year. I know weight of fish, crab, turtle.

They weigh no more than two maybe two-half pound. Wait here, I get money for you."

Bob turned around, started the outboard, and reached down to untie the line.

Ky yelled to be heard over the engine. "What you doing?"

"Going to Antonio's," Bob yelled.

Ky threw up his hands. "0-kay o-kay, three pound!"

Bob killed the engine with a smile.

The court door opened and two sweat-soaked men walked out. One turned, looked over his shoulder, and said smugly, "If you two old-timers wanna quit, me and Ski will understand."

Josh and Detective Kelly walked out the door, and Kelly said, "You two kids go and have your water break. You've won two, but it's best out of five, remember?"

"Think about it, old-timers. We'll be back in just a minute," said the younger of the two vice detectives with a laugh.

As soon as the young men were gone, Kelly faced his sopping-wet partner. "Remember what ya asked me this morning about being weird? I take back what I said. You're not only weird, you're fuckin' crazy! What the hell ya doin'?

Look at you. You're covered with welts. That kid playing the forehand is hittin' you with his shot on half his forehand returns and you're not even tryin' to get out of the way!"

Josh shrugged. "I've been settin' him up. He's the strongest player, and we can't beat 'em unless I shut down his forehand shot to the corner. I get in the way of his shot enough he's gotta start hittin' it up over me and we'll kill it when it comes off the wall."

Kelly grimaced. "Josh, gettin' hit with that kid's forehand shot is like gettin' stung by a fifty-pound bee. Your back must look and feel like it's been hit with grapeshot. Knock it off, man, it ain't worth it. So we lose. We'll get 'em when the hard hitter is havin' a bad day."

Josh looked into Kelly's eyes and winked. "They're goin' down, Kelly. They never shoulda called me an old-timer."

The two younger men returned. "Well, you old-timers had enough?" the younger cop said.

Kelly and Josh exchanged glances and opened the court door.

Surprised at hearing the familiar grumbling outboard so early in the afternoon, Stefne got up from the desk and walked out on deck.

"Hi. Throw me a rope, will you?" Bob yelled as he approached in the bass boat.

Stefne closed her gaping mouth. "Wha ... What are you doing? Oh no! He took you, didn't he? Where is he?"

Bob killed the motor and grabbed hold of Lil' Darlin's rail.

"I dropped him off a while ago for his racquetball game.

Throw me a rope so I can tie this thing off, please."

Stefne ignored his plea. "I thought you were sick or had an accident, but no, you were out playing with my dad on the river while I had to take twenty phone messages. I've been on the phone all morning instead of studying."

Bob leaned over the rail, grabbed a line, and tied off the boat. He crawled over the rail and shrugged his massive shoulders. "Today was the day, he said. He wanted me to go and witness him catching the King, and we almost did. He was definitely in the cage, and we almost had it to the surface when--"

"My God, not you too?"

Bob excitedly pointed to the bottomless trap on the flatboat. "There's the proof. We had him. I swear he's real and--"

Stefne backed away, shaking her head. "You sound like him and stink like him."

Bob straightened up and rolled back his shoulders. He gave her a cold look and snapped, "I didn't volunteer to go on the hunt. The boss said 'go,' and so I went. And believe me, the King is out there." He spun around and headed for the pier. He took two steps and looked over his shoulder at her. "And we're gonna get him!"

Stefne sighed with indifference until he turned his back and continued up to the pier. Then she smiled.

Josh dropped his racquet on the bench and leaned against the locker to rest and build up his courage before trying to sit down. One of the vice cops walked over and said, "Good match, Hawk. I still can't believe you guys beat us the last three games. You surprised us."

Josh forced himself to fake it a little longer and straightened his back. "Next time ya might get lucky."

The detective nodded with a smile and walked out of the room.

Kelly, seated at the other end of the bench, glanced over at his partner. "Ya look like shit. How ya feelin'?"

Josh winced as he carefully sat down. He let the wave of nausea pass before he lowered his head and spoke in a half whisper. "You're gonna have to help me. I can't move my arms to untie my shoes."

Kelly shook his head and got up knowing he was serious.

"Face it, we're gettin' too old for this shit. No more body sacrifices, ya hear me?"

Josh's head slowly came up and his lips drew back in a smile. "We showed 'em, huh?"

Kelly kneeled and began untying his friend's sweat-soaked hightops. "Yeah, we showed 'em."

Holidome, Seattle, Washington Colonel Sak Po smiled as he approached the two men sitting at a poolside patio table. Nodding to Sergeant Shin, he walked up behind Stephen and patted his shoulder. "So, Sao, how are you feeling?"

Stephen turned with a smile. "Much better, thank you. I had no idea jet lag could be so devastating. Where have you been? I haven't seen you the past two days."

Po glanced at the people lounging around the pool before motioning Stephen to follow him. "Come, it is time to talk.

Shin, remain out here."

As soon as Stephen walked into the hotel room, Po nodded to the two waiting captains, who shut the door and drew the curtains. He motioned for Stephen to sit down at the table and took a seat facing him. "You asked what I've been doing. I have been making the final arrangements. Stephen, I'm afraid the story I told you about the American businessmen and the negotiations was just that, a story."