Justification For Killing (3 page)

“
You are correct Don, but
how? How are we to get outside? We can’t use the doors to get out;
opening those exits would let the forty below air on the outside
come inside. My side window is useless it is frozen tightly shut.
The emergency batteries are providing power to our communication
system, I could not reach anyone, see if you can try to contact the
International Airport at Hong Kong again. While you are working on
that I will try to figure out how we can get outside.”

“
Captain, as you know, the
radio frequencies are on a digital display. The display is not on
the emergency battery circuit, so I cannot view it!

“
Right you are Donald,
okay, use the manual setting and adjust to the 135.37 MHz
frequency.”

Setting the radio’s
frequency Don squeezed his headset microphone and tried the radio
one more time before he and the Captain tried to get
outside,
“Cathay Pacific 6073 declaring an
emergency... come in Chek Lap Chuc... Mayday... Mayday... Cathay
6073 calling Hong Kong... Cathay 6073 calling anyone... anyone
reading this station! Respond, please!”
Sorry Captain, I’m not being received, or I might not be
broadcasting. It appears we are... but I have no
idea.”

“
Thanks, you can try again
later.”

The time was 8:04 a.m.
local, Thursday morning.

Chapter Two

A FEW HOURS
EARLIER

The time was 7 a.m.
Eastern Standard Time Wednesday November 21, 2012. Brothers Sam Lin
and Si Lei Kim, both members of the secret black ops program in
Washington, D.C., known only as SCAR (Studies Concerning Antiquated
Records), were snuggly buckled into their seats on American
Airlines Flight 4446 scheduled out of Washington, D.C. to New
York’s Kennedy Airport. At New York, they were to change planes and
depart on Cathay Pacific 6073. This flight was scheduled to arrive
the evening of the 22nd at Hong Kong. Hong Kong is thirteen hours
ahead of New York’s Eastern Standard Time. After a two-hour
layover, they were to depart Hong Kong heading to their final
destination: Bangkok, Thailand. Total travel time approximately
eighteen hours twelve minutes.

Sam Lin and Si Lei
seated in the Business Section of the Boeing 777-200LR waited
anxiously as the jumbo jet gained speed down the tarmac of the
Kennedy Airport. The two enormous turbofan jet engine’s whine began
to change to a lumbering moan as the twelve gigantic Goodyear tires
lifted from the black asphalt. The monster of steel, plastic and
rubber began its eastward and upward ascent towards the towering
cumulus clouds 16,000 feet above. The morning was cold but pleasant
for a November day in New York.
At
least
, thought the Kim brothers,
it’s not snowing
.

Si Lei turning to Sam Lin
asked, “Can I open my eyes yet?”

“
For goodness sakes
Brother, you’re a grown man, act like it!”

“
I can’t help it, I’m
terribly afraid of flying.”

“
Well
you should not be afraid of flying. This plane does a very good job
of ‘flying’. You
should
be afraid of this airplane falling out of the
sky.”

“
Now you’re getting the
picture Sam Lin! Seriously tho’, I know Captain Scarburg is head of
SCAR Operations, but why do you suppose he decided to send you and
me to Bangkok to investigate Mr. Ryan Rousseau?”

“
It’s simple - he knew we
worked with Rousseau in the Bangkok CIA office, in the ‘60s.
Besides we know the lay of the land, and still have a few contacts
we might be able to use.”

“
But, Brother, Mr.
Rousseau is Chief of Experimental Design at SCAR Headquarters. He
has been with the Captain since SCAR was established in the ‘60s,
isn’t that right? I thought he was the Captain’s
friend.”

“
Yeah, you’re right, but
Captain Scarburg knows what he is doing, just trust his judgment.
There is something about Ryan Rousseau that is bothering the
Captain. We’ll get to Bangkok and do the job we were assigned. Now
don’t worry about our mission, and for goodness sake quit worrying
about this steel bird falling out of the sky.”

Sam Lin was still
chuckling as the massive aluminum skinned machine turned its nose
from the direction of the rising sun and began a slow, deliberate,
left turn. It was beginning a northern flight path. “What’s
happening? Why are we turning? Is something wrong?” Asked Si
Lei.

“
No, we have to turn north
since we will be flying over the North Pole to Hong
Kong.”

“
You’ve got to be kidding
- we’re flying north to go west to Hong Kong?”

“
That’s right, it’s the
shortest route.”

“
But won’t we be flying
over Russia?”

Sam Lin knew Si Lei was
confused, so he explained their flight route. He began by saying
the flight will skirt the eastern edge of Canada, go across the tip
of the Hudson Bay, past the western end of Greenland and up and
over the Arctic Ocean. They will fly a few thousand miles across
the Arctic Ocean then slowly turn south across eastern Russia,
Mongolia and pass over China and finally the plane will land in
Hong Kong. This route will cut a twenty-one hour flight to only
fifteen and one-half hours. “Simple huh? Asked Sam Lin?”

“
Simple? Simple? What does
this pilot think? That we are a flock of geese migrating back
north? And you say this is the shortest route? What if this sucker
runs out of gas somewhere up there in the Godforsaken frozen north?
I just believe I wouldn’t like whale blubber!!”

“
Run out of gas? Are you
kidding? This thing holds over 52,000 gallons of fuel and has set a
flight record of 11,000 miles, non-stop, from Hong Kong to London.
Running out of gas is the least of our worries.”

“
Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,
I’m not asking you anything else. When do we eat?” replied Si
Lei.

“
Thought you were not
going to ask for anything else?”

“
Gentlemen,” said the
attractive young flight attendant. “Could I get you
anything?”

“
Yeah, how about getting
our pilot a map and a compass!” exclaimed Si Lei.

With a surprised look, the
flight attendant slightly tilted her head, frowned and was about to
question his response, but was quickly stopped by Sam
Lin...

He asked the attendant for
coffee, just a plain cup of black coffee. He also asked if she
could, please bring Si Lei a cup of hot tea and some type of
pastry? He explained Si Lei gets irritable if his blood sugar
drops. Looking to the young lady taking their orders he added
grinning, “More irritable, that is, than usual.”

In a few minutes, the
coffee, tea and a cinnamon bun were sitting on their tray tables.
Knowing their flying time from New York to Hong Kong was over
fifteen hours, Sam Lin was in no hurry - he sat sipping his coffee
looking out his port window at the soft, fluffy clouds miles below
slipping slowly beneath their wings.

A while later, Sam
Lin had finished watching the latest Hollywood blockbuster as Si
Lei sat enjoying a pleasant lunch, consisting of salad, a main
course of beef, potatoes and asparagus. Watching Si Lei shovel food
into his mouth Sam Lin decided he could eat a bite too. He placed
his order for the lighter serving of cantaloupe, melon slices and
strawberries. Si Lei finished his meal with a slice of cheesecake
while Sam Lin tried the non-alcoholic
Cathay Delight
, a kiwi-based drink
that turned out to be rather pleasant tasting. Both with stomachs
full and eyes heavy with sleep grabbed a few hours of shut-eye. The
pilot would come on the intercom from time to time and point out
fascinating features on the ground.
“Off
to our left, ladies and gentlemen, you’ll notice a large body of
water, that’s the Hudson Bay.”
A couple of
hours later,
“Just wanted to let you know
we are now over the Arctic Ocean. Temperature outside is a warm
minus fifty-two degrees below zero.”
With
a slight grin, both brothers fluffed their pillows, pulled their
blankets up snuggly and resumed their naps.

Chapter Three

A TIME MUCH, MUCH
EARLIER

This unbelievable story
must begin, in the past – No! Not the past. Then it must begin now,
the present – No! It isn’t exactly in the present either. How can
this be? It surely cannot be the future. No! Thank goodness it
isn’t. It began with him of whom much is known, but an explanation
is still needed. Who? The Captain, of course – Captain Robert
Edward Scarburg, Junior!

CAPTAIN ROBERT EDWARD
SCARBURG, JR

Captain Scarburg had a
nickname ‘Little S’. This had been his handle since his days in
Vietnam when he held the rank of Captain in the Intelligence Branch
of the 5th Special Forces. His father, Master Sergeant Robert
Scarburg, Sr was also in Vietnam. He too, with the 5th Special
Forces Group, but he was a medic. He was known as ‘Big S’. The
family just called him Papa. No, they weren’t Big and Little S
because of the Scarburg name.

Papa Scarburg had long
been gone when this story happened, and everyone connected with
this story had sworn himself or herself to remain silence on the
matter, but the fact was clear – this extraordinary saga had to be
told.

Also, going public with
this information could be an embarrassment to our government. Some
of the things are criminal if the Statutes of Limitation have not
expired; however, there are no time limits to murder. Finally, the
public has a right to know if the truth hurts so be it.

Robert Edward Scarburg,
Junior, a.k.a. Little ‘S’, the one called Captain or Grandpa was
present and participated in it all; he was a witness first
hand.

Even today parts of this
story are hard to believe, but he certified to the truth of it all.
If you doubt for a minute what is about to be told is not factual,
quit reading, for what follows will forever haunt your memory. If
you think what you are about to read will make you feel terrible
just wait until you have read this entire chronicle, you are right
- you will feel even worse! You will think about it while awake,
and it will be the last thoughts you have before Mr. Sandman
arrives. If you decide to venture on, good luck in the future! You
may need meds only available from your local physician. All right
you have been warned, if you are ready lets proceed.

Robert Edward Scarburg,
Junior – yes the Captain; to his grandchildren he was just Grandpa;
to his old Vietnam Special Forces buddies he was known as Little S
- sat facing the rear wall of his office. His left hand gently
rubbed the short stubble of the beard on his chin, contemplating –
was he daydreaming or did he have something particular in
mind?

He brushed the smoke from
his latest Cuban (he would insist Puerto Rican) cigar from the air.
With the right hand he reached for a book in his bookcase as he
began to spin his red Corinthian leather chair back around to face
his office. All things in his place of business seem to convey the
prestige of his position - it tended to accentuate the Captain’s
stature.

Was the Captain
unquestionably an influential person? Directors of the FBI, CIA and
the NSA would tend quickly to agree. The Captain was head of a most
unusual group called the Studies Concerning Antiquated Records
(SCAR). Was it a Department, a Bureau, a Division, who knew? SCAR
was not on any governmental organizational chart. No, it was none
of the above. SCAR was a black ops type operation buried deep
within the National Security Agency or was it the Department of
Defense? Even personnel within SCAR were not quite sure who their
bosses were. Why so clandestine? Well most people don’t need or
want to know what their missions were. They were known simply by
the acronym ‘SCAR’. All covert operations within the U.S.
Government knew the name - enough said.

ANHUR

Retrieving the book from
the bookcase, the Captain spun around to face his massive, mahogany
sea captain’s desk. A pint-sized, not quite five-foot tall person
startled him. This small ‘person’ was standing directly in front of
his desk. Where did this mysterious person come from? Captain
Scarburg’s office door had not opened, nor had his Chief of Staff
announced any visitor on the inter-office Personal Communicator
System.

The diminutive individual
was dressed in a brown overcoat and a black fedora hat. A
beautiful, ornate, silver medallion hung lazily around his neck. An
oversized pair of dark, ebony, sunglasses covered two similarly
hued, almond shaped eyes. Huge black eyes that overpowered a grey
face the color of dry cement, a face that appeared as if it had
never been exposed to the warm rays of the Earth’s sun. In his
hands, he carried two objects. In one, a large black umbrella,
although the day was warm and sunny with no chance of rain; in the
other a device, which reminded the Captain of a chrome motorcycle
helmet with a shiny, metal looking full-face shield. On the front
was inscribed an unusual circular emblem. This emblem, about three
inches in diameter was divided equally into four sections. Each
section contained a symbolic drawing. In one quarter was a face of
a man; the second a lion, the third a bull and the final section
contained an eagle. Captain Scarburg immediately recognized this
circular design. He had seen it before in Cambodia. It was like the
Stars and Stripes to the U.S.; this was the planet Sunev’s national
‘flag’.