COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN - Joe Bergeron (different ereaders TXT) 📗

/> She thought for a moment, recalling details off
the top of her head.
“It was pretty detailed, largest island in the
West Indies, ten million people, lots of sugar, significant
mineral reserves - nickel, chrome, manganese - all
subsurface deposits are still government property.”
Courtney needed the rest.
“What about politics, education, government -
that stuff?”
154
Flipping back the pages of a legal pad she’d
brought in with her, she continued, a pen in her right
hand lightly tapping the top of the conference room
table.
“They’re still provincial, but the new
government will change that. School is compulsory, and
free. The culture is a combination of Spanish and
African traditions. The old government - the one that
came into power in nineteen fifty-nine nationalized
about ninety percent of the production industries.
Their national annual budget was about twelve billion
for revenue and expenses - and guess what - it
balanced. But they’re really in hock to Russia - about
thirty eight billion. Their annual sugarcane harvest is
close to seventy-five million metric tons. Most of their
markets are still in the Soviet bloc. The economy’s
going to be decimated without Mother Russia. The new
government is run by Juan Ramos Santiago, a returned
exile, and Miguel Carlos Belize, a holdover from the old
government. Santiago is trying to establish democratic
reform. Belize holds the purse strings, and will make
that happen.”
She lay both hands flat on the table leaning
slightly forward over its smooth top.
“Michael, this may be coincidental, but Belize
has an Administrative Aid named Catalina Salazar.
She’s his financial advisor - has a B.S. in Accounting,
and an M.S. in Finance from the University of Miami.
Remember Dan Bellcamp’s love note that Andy found?”
He recollected.
“Yeah, when Andy comes in, he’s going to check
that out with Robert. The police report from June
Olson is here too.”
She feigned surprise at the use of personal
familiarity.
“June? Not Officer?”
He picked up her remark, noting a return to
what was a more familiar relationship between them.
155
I read her name plate. I can’t help it if she put
the thing over her heart?”
“Her heart‘s below that, Courtney, and only her
last name was on it.”
They both smiled, not taking lightly the
seriousness of the situation at hand, but acting
spontaneously in relief.
She wished she’d told him everything.
He continued, unaware of her thought.
“Kay - will you be able to handle the call from
your father?”
Her voice trailed slightly.
“I don’t know.”
Courtney expressed a prior thought.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s given something
prepared to read. The guy who just called wasn’t
Mister eloquent.”
She assessed herself with unsure purpose.”
“I think I can handle it - I have to.”
She reached for his hand - he covering it with
both of his.
Monday, May 22, 11:48 a.m.
McKenzie Industries, Old Saybrook, Connecticut
Eddie Dalger played the entire fifty-four
seconds of the tape at max volume through two sets of
high-torque speakers.
Human breathing, the closest sound to the
phone at the time of the recording, aside from the
unanswered ringing, was distinctly noticeable.
However, additionally coming out of the
background was a very clear conversation that had
been picked up by the Wollensak’s anti-static system.
156
He rewound the tape.
Walking to a steel shelving unit in the
McKenzie lab, he secured a
10-band equalizer with an expander and 90-LED
spectrum display. It had been boosted with a precise,
sound shaping circuit board designed by McKenzie
engineers.
This was a turbocharged edition, not available
for either personal or commercial consumption.
Unplugging the output lead on the tape
recorder, he electronically fitted the small box between
the tape and the speaker system.
Dalger rewound the tape, and, satisfied with
his connections, hit the play button again.
Breathing could be heard.
Making three adjustments in the soundshaping
bands brought up the level of sound that had
occurred from several feet beyond the origination of the
taped call.
It was totally clear, an almost too clear
conversation in a foreign language - neither European
nor Oriental, he thought.
He listened to it three times before calling for
assistance.
The Chief Engineer dialed the extension of
McKenzie’s Vice President For International Sales, Paul
Turbiak.
“Mister Turbiak’s Office.”
“Florence, this is Eddie Dalger, is Paul
available, please?”
“He just came back from the cafeteria, Eddie,
hold on.”
The tape was rewound a fourth time during the
wait.”
Equalizer adjustments remained in place.
A voice greeted the engineer.
“Eddie - what can I do for you?’
157
“Paul, I’d like you to listen to something - a
conversation. Tell me if you recognize the language.
“OK”
Dalger rolled the tape. The conversation
began, continued - and ended.”
A fifth rewind was completed.
Dalger spoke first.
“What do you think? Any ideas on what they’re
saying?
“It’s people in the Easter Mediterranean, Eddie
- Syria, Jordan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia. There was a
reference in there to Ramadi. That’s about a hundred
miles west of Baghdad. We shipped a few dozen oilfusion
transformers there two months ago. Where’d you
pick this up?”
“It’s a special project I’m working on for Pat.”
“If you want it translated, call Sully Kirkuk.
He handles that area for us. Do you know him?”
“No - I don’t, Paul.”
“Hang on - I can get him on with us.”
Sixty seconds later there were phone
introductions being made in a three-way conversation.
Sulay Kirkuk was McKenzie’s Mideast Sales
Manager.
A native of Abadam, Iran, he was fluent in
most of the Mideast Arabic dialects.
The fifty-four seconds of the tape were played
again.
He understood.
Those are Iraqi soldiers. They talking about a
mechanized unit of troops and equipment being sent to
Ramadi. One wants to put sixty howitzers with it, the
other thinks they should send a larger contingent of
Republican Guards. Pretty high-up conversation too.
One of them mentioned a meeting with the Defense
Minister. That’s usually reserved for General Staff.”
Dalger needed certainty.
“Are you sure?”
158
The man was positive.
“Yes, no doubt. Those are two high-ranking
Iraqi field officers.”
The V.P. broke in.
“Sully, thanks, we appreciate it. I’ll talk to you
later.”
Paul Turbiak remained on the line.
“Well, Eddie - what else can the Sales
Department do for the Engineering Department today?”
“You did a lot, Paul, thanks. Stop by the lab
someday and we’ll grab lunch.”
“Will do.”
His eyes stared at the machine.
There was only one possible reason this
conversation was so extraordinarily audible.
The thought made him shiver.
Dialing JGM, he was soon patched to the
conference room.
Courtney sat with Kay, both still waiting for a
return call from someone he’d labeled ‘Breacher One.’
Dalger had initially identified himself to Gerry
Allison.
She, in turn, relayed the information to
Courtney.
He, not choosing the speaker, pulled the
receiver from its cradle.
“Eddie, what do you have?”
“That depends on your perspective, son. The
call you recorded at the hotel may have gone
unanswered, but the caller hung in there for fifty-four
seconds listening to nothing but ringing. I was able to
eliminate the foreground and pump up the recorded
background sounds that came through the anti-static
system in the recorder.”
“Then you have a clear orientation of the
background?”
“It’s not just clear, Michael - it’s super clear.”
159
“What do you mean?”
“The out-sounds on your tape are an
inordinately distinct conversation between two Iraqi
Generals.”
“What!”
“Listen carefully to me. It doesn’t matter what
they’re talking about. It’s just army chatter. What’s
more important is how we identified who they were,
how we were able to obtain this information.”
“Eddie - you’re losing me.”
“When we built the anti-static system, we
super-cooled sound. Remember? You were there. The
conversation on the tape isn’t just
super-cooled - it’s freeze dried. There’s only one way
that could have happened. The recorded sound of the
conversation was fed through a separate anti-static
system into the one in the tape recorder. The second
system had to be as close as thirty to eighty feet of the
caller to be so clear.”
He took a breath, thinking about the reality he
was about to expose.
“Michael, outside of the Air Force, there’s only
two other customers we sell the anti-static system to…
The Central Intelligence Agency, and The National
Security Agency. The call on the tape didn’t come from
an F-15E Strike Eagle pilot, so it had to come from one
of the other two, because those are the only other places
where anti-static systems exist.”
He was genuinely concerned.
“Michael - are you and Kathleen alright?”
There was a temporary imbalance in his
thoughts.
He looked at Kay - she at him.- he refocused.
“Eddie, I know you weren’t able to get all this
information by yourself.”
160
He was deliberate.
“I want you to swear to confidence anyone you
spoke to about this. I‘ll brief you when I can. This
comes from the top, Eddie.”
The engineer accepted.
“I understand. I’m here when you need me,
kid. Give Kathleen my best, Michael.”
“I will, Eddie - thanks.”
They disconnected.
Turning, he looked at her, their eyes flush - his
as intense as his voice.
“We’re getting closer, Kay.”
Monday, May 22, 1:45 p.m.
He’d reached George Tollman at the Vice
President’s villa in Cuba.
“Courtney’s playing hardball with you. Do you
still think he’s just a philosopher?”
“I can handle Courtney.”
“You’ve done a masterful job so far.”
“I found out where they’re staying - they have a
suite at the Marriott. I can have it bugged today.”
“Why, so you can listen to more echoes? Don’t
bother.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just keep an eye on them, and send someone
else to follow them this time. Keep yourself available.
I’m going to have her father talk to her. You’re going to
patch this call through your lines. Can you rig a time
delay system on your phone?”
“Of course.”
“It’s one-fifty now. I’ll call you back at twothirty.”
“I’ll be ready.”
161
Monday, May 21, 2:24 p.m.
Pat McKenzie had been blindfolded and
brought to another room. Also without windows.
The blindfold was removed.
Catalina Salazar’s approach was all business.
Two plainclothes Agents were only steps behind
her.
“Mister McKenzie, You’re going to speak with
your daughter. I have a prepared statement for you.”
She handed him a sheet of paper and continued
while indicating a telephone on a small table five feet to
the left of him.
“That phone will ring in approximately six
minutes. You’ll have that much time to review the
message you’ll deliver.”
He’d already read most of it.
“You’ll be on speakerphone. There’s going to be
a time delay of five seconds between what you say, and
what she hears. If you attempt any conversation other
than what’s there, I can stop it before it reaches her
ears.”
Holding up her right hand before him, it
contained what looked like a remote TV control.
She finished.
“Do you understand me?”
He didn’t want anything to interfere with the
call.
“Yes, I understand.”
She accepted his response as capitulation.
Her womanly intuition told her something else.
It didn’t matter - he would accede to the order.
“Good, then we’ll wait for the call.”
162
Monday, May 22, 2:30 p.m.
Gerry Allison appeared again.
Courtney nodded, and tripped the speaker
button.
“This is Michael Courtney.”
“Is Katherine McKenzie with you?”
He recognized the voice of Breacher One.
“Her name is Kathleen…”
“Don’t get me pissed, Courtney - is she there?”
“Yes.”
“Her father will be on the phone in a minute.”
The analyst thought of Law Eight. This wasn’t
what he wanted, but it also wasn’t time to do any
pushing.
He moved his chair closer to Kay’s.
The next voice they heard was her father’s.
It was a bittersweet sound as he read from the
prepared statement.
“Kay…”
He