Justification For Killing (42 page)

Entering the conference
room Captain Scarburg could see Sam Lin and Si Lei had taken over
his large mahogany table. Papers and notes were spread from one end
of the table to the other; some papers had even fallen from the
table to the floor. Down at one end sat the satchel once belonging
to Doctor Joseph Rusnak. Dried bloodstains were still evident on
its brown leather exterior. Both brothers were fumbling through the
collection of Dr. Rusnak’s notes and papers to the point they were
so engrossed in the information they did not notice the Captain had
entered the room.

“
Sam Lin, Si Lei take a
break,” the Captain laughingly said to the two brothers, as he
walked across the room toward them.

Startled, Sam Lin
responded, “Oh, hello Captain. This stuff is just so interesting
our minds were somewhere else. Just come and see, you won’t believe
the things we have discovered. Sorry I got carried away - how have
you been Captain?”

“
That’s okay, I know you
both are excited. I want the whole story. But first I have to get
my cup of coffee. What about you two - coffee?” Over the
inter-office communicator, the Captain make a request, “Krissy,
would you mind bringing in a couple more coffee cups, no make it
three, I know Rocky will want coffee when he arrives.”

‘
Right away Captain, but
Rocky can bring his own cup. He’s standing here sipping your
special Columbian Roast as we speak.”

“
That good-for-nothing! No
seriously, tell him to help himself and sent him in. What about
LJ?”

“
I’m here too Captain,”
Lonnie Joe responded.

After everyone had said
his hellos, the men took seats around the conference table. “Well,
looks as if everyone is here! Forrest should be here in a little
while,” announced Captain Scarburg. “Sam Lin and Si Lei would you,
please give us a briefing on your mission to Bangkok, and the
significance of these papers spread around the table.

Si Lei looking at brother
Sam Lin said reluctantly, “Would you mind Sam Lin, you are a much
better speaker than I am. Besides, you have always been the
smartest.”

“
That’s not true Si Lei...
but of course I will. Guys, Si Lei and I only arrived from Thailand
this morning, so we did not have time to prepare a formal
presentation - this one is going to be shooting from the hip. If
you have a question, please feel free to interrupt me at any time.
Either Si Lei or I will attempt an answer. Okay, here we
go...”

Standing at the end of the
table, Sam Lin began with their arrival at Concourse C at
Suvarnabhumi Airport, Bangkok. He was just beginning to get into
the part where Katrina Ryabov walked across the concourse and
greeted them under the Thai Pavilion. “Captain, sorry to
interrupt,” Krista announced over the communication system,
“Forrest just arrived, I’m going to send him in.”

Everyone’s head turned
toward the door awaiting Forrest’s entrance. The door opened,
Forrest made his grand arrival. “Hey fellows, hi Grandpa. What have
I missed?”

Grandpa answered, “Not
much Forrest. Sam Lin was just beginning to tell us about their
trip to Bangkok. Go on Sam Lin now that everyone is really all
here.”

“
Okay, Forrest I’ll catch
you up - I had just told the others that Si Lei and I arrived in
Bangkok, walked into the airport, to get our bearings we had
stopped under the Thai Pavilion when an attractive woman who later
introduced herself as Katrina Ryabov approached.”

“
Hold on Sam Lin,” said
Forrest. “I want to know about the plane crash. That is the real
adventure… this other talk is just spy stuff… I want to hear about
your exciting near-death experience in the frozen wasteland of
Siberia.”

“
Sure Forrest… but first,
it wasn’t in Siberia we crashed in Russia, and we weren’t anywhere
near death. You make it sound so melodramatic, but Si Lei and I
will tell you our entire story,” and for the next couple of hours,
Sam Lin with Si Lei’s input divulged the intriguing details of
their exploits. Throughout his briefing, Sam Lin was constantly
stopped by questions from someone at the table. The group had sat
totally mesmerized by the two Kim brother’s exciting narrative and
hung on their every word. Finally, Sam Lin began to wind down his
story with the death of Malita Smith and Katrina ‘Kat’ Sokolov. He
emphasized both their deaths were the direct result of someone
searching for the Dr. Joseph Rusnak papers. The same papers, which
now lay scattered across the conference table where they were
currently sitting.

Lonnie Joe asked, “Sam Lin
do you or Si Lei have any idea who killed the two
women?”

“
Let me just say this –
Katrina thought the CIA’s project MK-ULTRA was the key. She was
terrified just saying the name. I believe she talked to Malita
Smith who must have passed the information on to someone within the
Company.” Sam Lin followed by dramatically explaining the car chase
and the final demise of the Mercedes in the flaming crash into the
bulldozer on the Highway Seven expressway from Bangkok to the
International Airport. “I believe this automobile was being driven
by agents of the CIA.”

“
What makes you think the
CIA was involved?”

“
When Si Lei and I worked
at the Bangkok CIA post, black Mercedes sedans were the official
automobiles most agents drove. The icing on the cake was the
license plate. I got a glance at it as the car pulled up behind us
– it was blue with white letters. Those blue and white tags are
only used on official U.S. government automobiles in Thailand. No
one else connected with the government in Thailand would have known
we were in town.” Pulling out a chair from the table Sam Lin sat
down, “That’s about it if no one has any further questions? Oh,
there is one more tidbit of information for you Captain - we saw
your old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hat.”

“
You did? I knew I could
not find it, but where did you see it?”

“
Anhur was wearing it when
he and his friends cleared the snow from our downed airplane in
Russia. Without his help, we would have never escaped from that
barren, snow-covered lake. And we saw it once more – it was sitting
atop Anhur’s head as he stood next to the tangled wreckage at the
horrific, fiery crash on the Highway Seven Bangkok
expressway.”

“
By-ned that little
rascal, my hat huh? So that’s where my hat disappeared! Well I’ll
be, he’s still up to his old tricks, you say? That little guy saved
you from the crash site in Russia and also caused the wreck that
allowed you to escape in Thailand,” the Captain said grinning as he
pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “By-ned, that
little rascal! By-ned!”

Walking to the podium,
“Good job Sam Lin and Si Lei... you both did an excellent job....
with one exception... you did not return my cowboy hat,” he said
laughing. “Excellent report and it proves the CIA was waist deep in
the Kennedy assassination. In fact, I have a CIA story too that I
believe will prove the CIA and Kennedy were at odds with each other
as well. Settle back, this might take a while.

“
This happened a number of
years ago,” the Captain said as he began to speak...

The time was 11:00 a.m.,
Monday, December 5, 2012.

Chapter
Thirty-Three

FORTY YEARS
EARLIER

Sack time usually came
late for the men of the “Screaming Eagles” – Company A, 3rd
Battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, of the One Oh One
(101st) Airborne Division, stationed at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina,
but on this night sleep would not come at all. Billeted in old two
story wooden barracks constructed in WW II the troopers were hard
at work preparing their combat equipment for an ordered combat
mission. Mission? Mission to where, the U.S. was not at
war?

The time was 2200 hours,
April 17, 1961.

Earlier in the evening, at
1800 hours, Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Brad Fleming Commander of the
Third Battalion had called all his company commanders together. He
instructed them to assembly the Battalion for the posting of an
important announcement of a General Alert Order. His instructions
to the Captains commanding each company were to have all the
companies assemble at 1900 hours on the Main Post parade field (or
Pike Field as it is known at Bragg). At exactly 7 p.m., LTC Fleming
had his Adjutant Major Nick James read General Alert Order Number
009. After the Major finished reading the General Order announcing
the Five-Oh-Five Regiment was going to war, Staff Sergeant Johnny
“Red” Walker (yeah he got the humor, but he didn’t care for it
either) turned to his best friend Corporal William Winston, better
known to all his friends as “Smokes”. “Did the adjutant say
‘Prepare for a combat jump,’ Smokes? Didn’t he say we are to be
dropped in advance of an invasion force, and our mission is to
disrupt transportation lines and repel defenders? When did we
declare war Smokes? Who are we going to war with?

“
Red, you askin’ me?
You’re the Squad Leader!”

The screen door to the
barracks slammed hard against the wall as the First Sergeant opened
it with a kick from his spit-shined, combat boot. Stepping into the
barracks he blew hard on the whistle that hung from his dog tag
chain. Once... twice... three times...”Listen up ladies!! Get your
gear together; we have to be at the airfield no later than 0300.
That’s 3 a.m. for you brain-dead killers. Let’s get a move on; it’s
now 2205 hours for you scumbags that don’t have a watch!! You’ve
got less than five hours!! Move it! This ain’t no drill!! Move it!
We got us a war to go to!!”

“
Top!” Some trooper in the
back of the barracks yelled to the 1st Sergeant, “Where we goin’
Sarge?”

“
Can’t say just yet! It
has to stay on the QT for now – you’ll all get a sitrep (situation
report) on the plane... now get your head out of your asses, get
those weapons cleaned and ready for action. I want to see your gear
standing tall for equipment check at 0245 hours!!”

Standing on the tarmac,
faces painted with green, tan and black camouflage paint, weighed
down with nearly one-hundred pounds of equipment including
parachutes, reserve parachutes, weapons, C-rats (canned food) and
ammo the entire 2nd Battalion nervously waited to board the giant,
army green, Hercules C-130 transports. Smokes said above the roar
of the four 4,500 horsepower turboprop engines on the aircraft they
were prepared to board, “Red, I’m scared!”

Quietly, the Staff
Sergeant replied, “Me too Smokes.”

The time was 0400 hours,
April 17, 1961.

Pope Army Airfield, Ft.
Bragg, North Carolina – Paratroopers Staff Sergeant Johnny Walker
and Corporal William Winston were shuffling toward one of the
waiting transport aircraft of the 464th Troop Carrier Wing. They
faintly could see the official tail marking on their C-130 Hercules
had been sprayed over with green camouflage paint. The large,
white, Air Force stars on the wings and fuselage had been
obliterated too. “Red, look at those marking on our plane – are we
still in the U.S. Army?”

“
Yeah, but someone don’t
want us to be recognized in this war we’re goin’ to.”

Taking a step with his
spit-shined, Corcoran, jump boot onto the steel, rear ramp leading
into his huge military cargo plane Sergeant Walker hesitated for a
moment and took one final look over his shoulder. As far as he
could see across the dark tarmac were bright landing lights of
dozens and dozens of C-130s. C-130s just like the one he was
boarding, brakes locked, and all four engines wound up and roaring
to their maximum rpms ready for takeoff.

The paratroopers had
numbered off on the edge of the tarmac – odd numbers were on the
starboard side, even numbers on the port. As the troopers were
finding their red, web backed, canvas seats, the rear ramp raised
and closed shut, and down the runway one after the other the planes
rolled. From somewhere in the middle of one of the sticks of
paratroopers one of them could be heard above the roar of the
engines singing the refrain:

“♪
High
Ho, High Ho, it’s off to war we go.
♪
”

One after the other the
C-130s with their massive rubber tires separated from the asphalt
and swiftly gained flight altitude. Eastward they flew until they
were out over the deep-green Atlantic Ocean. Off toward the eastern
horizon the sky was dark, sunrise was still a couple of hours
away.

Smokes remarked, “We’re
going east, must be headed to Europe or Africa, what you
think?”

Before Sergeant Walker
could reply the C-130 began a steep right-hand banked turn. “What
the...? Red we’re turning south... south! What is south - Florida?
Nah, we ain’t gonna invade Florida, we must be headed to South
America - Columbia, I’ll bet. I wonder what war we are gettin’
ourselves into?”

One thousand four hundred
kilometers or roughly 900 miles south-southwest of Pope Field and
the roar of the flight of C-130s, the war to which the paratroopers
were headed had already begun – it was in Cuba and it had already
been given a name – The Bay of Pigs.

Earlier during the night
of 14 and 15 April, a diversionary landing was planned by over one
hundred Cuban exiles. Their mother ship had sailed from Key West
under a Costa Rican flag. Several US Navy ships, included one
destroyer, were stationed offshore on the southeastern end of Cuba
near the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, or “Gitmo” as it is called.
They wanted to give the appearance of an impending invasion
fleet.