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

form.
The simplest of what are known as the Atomic
Syllogisms consists of three propositions, the first two
being the premises which convey the third.
Some syllogisms in traditional logic denote
phrases that, although able to stand on their own,
contain syncategorematic words that, were they not
linked to categorematic terms, would be
incomprehensible as wholes.
The word ‘big’ has no specific dimension until
joined with an explicit term such as ‘as a house.”
Something can simply be blue, but cannot be big
without attachment to something else.
Saturday, May 27, 12:31 p.m.
Courtney spend an hour alone. Using
syllogism and the theory of opposites, he created
syncategorematic, and opposing syllogisms.
Pat McKenzie was a liar.
A liar hides something.
Pat McKenzie was hiding something.
Pat McKenzie also told the truth.
Truth does not exist in phenomena without its
opposite, Lies.
289
Yankee Echo was, at the same time, both a truth, and a
lie. But How big a lie?
Control of Yankee Echo was big, but was it big
enough to lie about and hide from him? Maybe. There
was another possible theory. The organization wasn’t
what he thought it was. It wasn’t just control. There
were hidden elements, parts no one knew about. Why
else the lie? If there were secret parts, how many? It
had, by syllogistic logic to be big.
Courtney re-entered their presence as Coverty
and St. Croix reviewed flight charts at the drafting
table.
Noticing his friend’s approach, the inactive
Zero thought this might be a good time to relax for a bit.
“C’mon, Mick, let’s you and me go get a couple
of beers. Snake, y’all hold down the fort.”
The active Navy Zero thought it might be soon,
maybe twenty-four, forty-eight hours.
There was a lot to do.
Courtney’s forearms rested on the stained oak
counter at the Gator Grille, his right hand around a
cold, long-neck Bud. A half-dozen or so construction
workers, completing the design on a new entrance to
Miami International, sat during their lunch break at
three black and white
tile-topped tables discussing the early beginning
standings and schedules of various pro baseball teams,
the shapely legs and behind of their female Production
Supervisor, and the great hot dogs at this place.
The rest of the compliment of people at this
hour were at the bar. A retired banker named Steve
from Brooklyn, New York, two teenage boys and girls
using false ID’s, and the bar’s three regulars, Allen,
Leo, and Herden Mitchell, two brothers and a cousin
who’d just retired from the food and beverage industry
elsewhere. The analyst did not see a threat anywhere.
290
A squeaky bar stool squealed every time he
turned to the Southerner.
It squealed again.
“Andy, think about this. I’m pretty sure our
Secretary of Commerce shot and killed John McKenzie
in Vietnam, and then allowed him to be blamed for the
massacre at La Dang. The President is refusing to
make a strong commitment to a reform plan he knows
will almost guarantee his reelection. He also puts his
chief spook on my tail, who then lays a bodyguard on
me, which, to me, suggests he has another agenda going
because he’s not working on what should be done for the
first one.”
He took a sip of his refreshing beverage.
“The people who breached Yankee Echo have no
idea how big it is, and to tell you the truth, I’m
beginning to wonder if I know how big it is myself.
We’ve got a lot going on here Trooper, you have any
ideas?
“Ah always go to Law Forty, than back to one,
and now, your Corollary, Mick.”
“OK, so let’s do what we have to do. We know
we’re in the dark and that we’re going nowhere until we
get some honest answers. Right now, I have to assume
that Belize, Bellcamp, and Salazar are part of the
breachers. One way I can find out for sure if they’re the
breachers is to put them on the defensive, then confront
them with power. Bellcamp’s gone, that leaves the
other two. Did you finish the reconnaissance on Belize’s
place?”
“Sure did. We got work ups all the way to
Belize’s front door. Night fly-in under radar - which
we’re gonna jam anyway. The control tower here will
avoid us, both when we leave, and when we come
home..”
“We’re not coming home, Andy.”
It took a few seconds.
“Where we goin, Mick?”
291
“Too many people know we’re out right now.
Does Robert know your location?”
“No. Zero Intel plans every op in secret. The
only people who know about all of this are the team
members, you included. Bobby only knows Ah’m in
Miami with you.”
“We need a safe place to take Pat, if we find
him. I’m not letting him go until he solves some riddles
for me.”
“You been doin some syncategorematic props,
my friend?”
It helped dull the emotional edge - the analyst
smiled.
“With Pat back, the breachers lose; but that’s
just the beginning. I want the real answers on Yankee
Echo.”
He tasted his Bud again.
“Mick, think of Thirty-Eight. It’s Deductive
Logic. Work backward from your conclusions.”
“I don’t know for certain if they’re true.”
“You also don’t know for certain if they’re false.
When all ya got is a pile of dog shit, y’all have to
assume some dogs passed through.”
“I need to be inductive to get inside their
heads.”
“Yeah, but y’all can’t go forward before takin
ten steps back. Hell, Mick, induction begins at the ass
end and comes forward, you know that.”
“There’s also something in my gut telling me to
blow the Laws to Hell when we find Pat.”
“OK, Kid, y’all got he helm - where do we
start.”
“We find Pat - let’s go see Coverty.”
292
Saturday, May 27, 2:50 p.m.
Alan Bates was degreed in Mechanical
Engineering from Annapolis. A Naval Commissioned
Officer holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander, he
had logged over fifteen thousand hours in helicopters
since matriculation from flight school at The Naval Air
Station in Pensacola, Florida.
Bates didn’t just have normal, traditional
flying hours under his wings. At speeds approaching
three hundred miles per hour, he could maneuver the
four bladed Zero Huey under bridges, between
buildings, night-fly at treetop level, and pull one and a
half more ‘G’ force out of the rotary aircraft than the
design-build book said he could.
He’d been asked to join the Zero’s by no less an
authority than the Commandant of the Naval Academy.
Scholastically, he wasn’t at the top of the grade-point
average in his graduating class - but he did hold one
unique distinction. In his four years at The Academy,
he’d become the only graduate who’d ever gone
undefeated in intercollegiate chess competitions. His
uncanny ability to develop strategic offensive patterns
of war (And a chess game is a war) had not gone
unnoticed by the upper echelon of Navy Brass.
He was an excellent compliment to a Navy Zero
team. A pilot who could fly spontaneous offensive
sequences of attack, while creating forward patterns of
strategy in the process.
He and Snake stood at the flight prep table
reviewing the nylon matte-black pants, black
camouflage, black pinpoint cotton ‘T’ shirts black ragg
nylon socks, and black vented boots laid out on its
surface.
293
Additionally on the table top there was the
weaponry chosen specifically for this mission: Two Uzi
machine guns, Snake and St. Croix’s primary resource,
four, fifteen shot, Colt forty-two automatic pistols with
three extra clips for each, every member, including
Courtney, carrying this complement, and one, twenty
inch piece of titanium filament secured on each end to a
two inch steel ball - Snake’s Silencer.
They’d checked, and rechecked the radios -
twelve ounce Motorola open-line, frequency-modulated
units with mini head sets. Every team member would
click into the communication system in the hangar, and
would be in constant conference contact with every
other member until the operation was concluded.
Snake coded the sets - himself first, designation ‘one’,
St. Croix, ‘two’, Bates, ‘three’, Courtney, ‘four’; simple,
efficient, clean.
The final item on the table was a plain manila
folder, the op orders and mission standards between its
front and back covers.
It was a simple, but structured game plan; fly
in, retrieve resources, fly out. Time lines were
designated in seconds, ops and standards set in
maximums and minimums - categories - what was
acceptable, what not. All the elements were set on two
planes - op in, op out. Maximums were increased in the
op out - more fire being directed in a Zero drawback
than in an assault.
One page of the orders and standards titled
‘Metaphysical Analysis’ remained blank - Courtney
would detail this part of the mission statement either
verbally, or in writing; not the plan of attack or the
egress, but the philosophical base of the operation.
He’d already worked out its components and was
mentally reviewing them as he and St. Croix
approached the two active naval officers. They’d all met
one another, each at earlier times. Acknowledgement
and acceptance of individual operational expertise were
felt by all four. 294
Coverty, concluding the launch of the team,
acquiesced to the table, detailing the clothing first, and
addressing the only team member who’d never worn
them.
“We’ll be in these throughout the mission.
Everything on us goes black. We carry no ID’s, no
wallets, no money, and no jewelry. The weapons are
loaded. We’re shot-conscious - don’t use rounds unless
absolutely necessary. We’d rather use our brains than
our weapons to complete the mission. Andy will teach
you how to fire the forty-two this afternoon - there’s a
small firing range at the other end of this building. The
radios are simple - we strap into them, and talk.
Everyone hears what everyone else says, and we’ll be
on-frequency until we’re pulled back far enough from
the major point of engagement. If we find Mister
McKenzie there, he stays silent until that time.”
With one hand, Snake tapped the index finger
and then the middle finger of the other to make the
next point.
“Mission personnel are primary, hardware
resources are secondary. The last thing is the
operation orders, and the mission standards. We need
the metaphysical statement. I know Andy’s briefed you
on Zero ops, so I think you already have a good idea on
what we’ll do.”
Courtney moved toward the table, his right
hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Thanks for the introduction to the gear. I
hope I don’t have to fire that thing.”
Coverty, his mind set now into the mission, was
all business.
“If you do, aim for the middle of the body, it’s
your biggest target. The forty-twos are loaded with
hollow points, they fragment on impact. Hit a man in
the chest, and you’ll remove three quarters of his back.”
That truth didn’t sit comfortably.
295
He had a single purpose, and he needed to
remain focused. He’d prepared his metaphysical
statement. He would verbalize it, and implement its
strategy with their help. He knew Andy had briefed
everyone on names, places and locations.
“I have good reason to believe Pat McKenzie
will be in the same place we find Belize and Salazar.
Law Two - they’re unbalanced. They’ve committed a
crime, and they know it, so they’ll cling to each other,
and they’ll want to keep their hostage close. The last
thing they want is for Pat to escape. The safest place to
hold him would be in the Vice President’s villa…Andy,
when you found those two guys going through
Bellcamp’s house, they told you Belize sent them. We
know they weren’t just a couple of low-life hoods. They
were trained agents; the kind of guys who work for VP’s
and Presidents. They’re probably prepared for a fight.
They have us in a defensive pattern, and we have to
change that. I need the Vice