“Bret, I just learned that last week the LRA stormed several villages in the northern Democratic Republic of Congo, killing, maiming, and kidnapping thousands of innocent men, women and children. Over 600 civilians were killed with machetes, axes and wooden clubs.”
Chu-lin, who was listening, blurted, “Oh how terrible,” and after a pause, “Bret, we’ve got to do it . . . help capture Kunga.”
“But I’m supposed to teach an engineering class at the University of Maryland this coming fall.”
“Your fame and success in the Syrian caper has been great publicity for UM,” said Julien over the speaker. “I’m certain we could wheedle them to agree to another leave of absence.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Julien, we’ve agonized over this for three days and now . . . okay, if you can square it with the college, I’m willing to go after Kunga.”
“That’s super. I was pretty sure you’d eventually decide to get on board. Do I gather correctly from Chu’s last comment that she really wants to participate as well?”
She chimed in, “He couldn’t do it without me. Of course, I’m not planning to go to Africa. But I’ll help Bret however he needs me, any place but in a jungle.”
“Wonderful! I’m delighted that you two want to work for your country as a team again. You both were vital in the Venezuelan caper, as well as more recently against ISIS.”
“Julien, we got a lot of help in both ventures from the local CIA guys. Could we count on some support in Africa as well?”
“Not really. Perhaps in a life-saving capacity owed any American in a foreign land. But you both need to know that, unlike our previous efforts in Venezuela and Syria, neither the CIA nor any other U.S. governmental agency will be contracting for our services in this venture.”
“Well, who’s paying the bills then?” asked Bret, somewhat stunned.
“IATA will be financing our efforts.”
“Who?”
“The International Air Transport Association, a trade association of the world’s airlines. Members include 268 airline companies, primarily major carriers, representing 117 countries. They’re very much aware of the threat posed by Kunga if he ever does get the weapons. They want him and his band of terrorists put out of the picture.”
“Gonna be kind of lonely in Africa if I have no nearby CIA friends there, Julien.”
“My principal CIA contact here in town, Jim Baker, might help us avoid or get untangled from legal issues that might arise. But no routine support from African locals. That’s it guys.”
Chu-lin asked, “Well, could Jim at least provide modest identity change assistance?”
“I’m afraid not, Chu. He’s bound to avoid all responsibility in extracurricular activities like this, should anything go wrong. It’ll be up to you two to work out that and similar issues on your own.”
Breaking several uncomfortable seconds of silence following that response, Julien added, “However, I’m pleased to tell you that, as was the case in your prior involvements as a Delta agent, your salary while active will be $10,000 per month, plus expenses.
Bret glanced over at Chu showing his favorite big-toothy smile. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Can you get back down here to Washington as soon as you develop your proposal for kicking this whole thing off?”
Bret looked at Chu-lin, who was nodding ‘Yes.’ “It may take a week or so, but rest assured that we will be back with our plan. Bye for now.”
* * *
After breakfast, the Lees tackled the kitchen cleanup of pans and dishes from their breakfast, Chu with her hands in the sink washing, and Bret drying. He proposed, “We should split the load to prepare ourselves for the Monday meeting.”
“Okay, what are you gonna do?”
“Umm, I’ll see what I can uncover about the various MANPADS,” said Bret, drying his hands on the pink apron he was wearing.
“About what?”
“MANPADS. Julien corrected me when I was using the term ‘SAM.’ He said the correct name for what Kunga wants is MANPADS . . . Man-Portable Air-Defense System.”
“Got it. What task do you think I should do?” she queried.
“Why don’t you look into setting up a false identity for me.”
“I’m not sure how to even start that. I doubt there’s a ‘How-To-Do-It’ on Google.” But after a few minutes, she happily exclaimed, “I know what to do; I’ll ask my weirdo brother. I suspect he’s had a lot of experience with things like that.”
““That’s gotta be the first time you mentioned Zhu to me for years. He must be in his thirties by now. What a waste, big handsome guy like that. Where is he these days . . . still living in a tiny cabin like a hermit somewhere in the Wisconsin wilderness?”
“I think so. Sure glad he kept his cell. Just about the only remnant of his once-civilized life.”
“After all those years in prison,” said Bret, "no one can blame him for wanting to get away from his former internet-hacking buddies. Zhu once told me they set him up to take the fall for their chase of a quick buck.”
“Thankfully, the Silicon Valley drug pushers can’t tempt him there anymore.”
“Yeah, but I bet he has a nice little crop of pot growing somewhere in those Wisconsin woods.”
“Oh, Bret. Give Zhu the benefit of a doubt.”
“Sorry. I just mistrust him after what he did to your parents, debasing his college degree into something unlawful.”
“Anyway, I’ll ask him if he knows how to help you create a new identity.”
* * *
Whenever he could find an hour or two of free time over the weekend after Chu agreed to question Zhu, Bret searched for all he could find and read about MANPADS. He learned from the internet that there were many current varieties and models, manufactured by several countries, including the U.S., Russia, France, the UK, Japan, and others.
He also recalled the research on Chinese weapons he did during his Army career with the Ballistics Research Labs in the 80’s. At that time, China produced a crude shoulder-fired version, the HN-5. But Bret confirmed via email with a former contact in China that their current standard was the infrared FN-6. Virtually all makes and models from other countries also used infrared guidance systems to home-in on an aircraft’s engine heat.
One internet source stated that over the years, such weapons proliferated to the extent that there’s an estimated 500,000 existing in the world today. Bret’s research established that many thousands of the crude early-model MANPADS seemed to be available on the black market, readily accessible to terrorists and insurgents at prices as low as $500. He found that later generations, boasting superior performance, such as greater range or higher resistance to countermeasures, were available at costs upwards of $30,000 each.
Hmm, Bret mused, what lies ahead? Be a faux arms dealer? Willing to tramp through jungles for the big bucks. . . . Me? . . . Really? . . . First find, then convince a ghost that I can supply the missiles he wants. . . . Damn scary. . . . They say he’s well-financed. Likely price upwards of $60,000 per copy. Anything cheaper and he’d be suspicious.
After a few additional hours comparing various MANPADS capabilities, he narrowed his selection down to two competing models, the Russian Ingla SA-24 and the American FIM-92E Stinger. Ultimately, he decided he’d be most successful impersonating a dealer boasting about the superior 26,000-ft. range and lighter 32-lb. weight of the Stinger.
* * *
Chu-lin called him away from his office computer to the kitchen nook’s table for dinner. He relished her favorite specialty, one-pan meal: pork chops baked with sauerkraut, apple, and brown sugar. Mealtime conversation soon followed the initial few bites.
“How’s your research going, hon? Chu-lin asked. “Think you’ve settled on your MANPADS product line yet?”
“Yes, but this is a crazy business. I don’t know how real arms dealers can live with themselves . . . especially those willing to sell weapons that could be used to blow up airliners fu
ll of innocent people.”
After a few moments of headshaking in silence, he said, “I really want to change the subject so I can enjoy this meal. One last question. Did you ever get in touch with Zhu?”
“Yes, but you won’t be happy with what he said.”
Chapter Four
LRA Encampment, Mboto, Central African Republic
Hidden beneath a dense dark-green canopy of a tropical forest are remnants of the once-powerful, widely feared and hated Lord’s Resistance Army. Formerly numbering in the thousands of fighters, the LRA conducted decades of atrociously brutal village raids, leaving a myriad of innocents slaughtered, injured or kidnapped across wide areas of the Central African Republic, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and South Sudan.
That horde has now dwindled to a several dozen loyal fighting men, their wives, sons and followers. Some of the numerical decline came by way of extensive desertion. However, battle casualties opposing a ten-year, billion-dollar mission by thousands of Ugandan troops and over a hundred U.S. Special Forces took the major toll.
But the hunt for LRA leader, Jacob Kunga, ended in 2017. The opposing Ugandans and Special Forces withdrew from battle after commanders decided that the LRA had successfully been neutralized. Kunga still has a $5 million bounty on his death or capture. But he has no fears that he will ever face the Hague International Criminal Court. The world has forgotten about him.
Big mistake!
* * *
Spinning around on his wooden stool, Jacob Kunga shouts to a nearby conscripted water boy, “Get me General Zuluka, right away.”
“Yes sir, right away,” gasps the boy as he drops a jug and runs out of Kunga’s tent.
Less than five minutes later, the last remaining senior officer of Kunga’s staff, Lt. Gen. Solomon Zuluka, trots into the tent wearing jungle fatigues, salutes and stands at attention. “Yes sir, you requested my presence?”
Kunga, putting a paper map down on his makeshift desk, stands and then steps face-to-face to Zuluka. He grasps the officer’s shoulders and looks directly into his eyes. “We have been together for a long time, Solomon. I am very grateful for your many years of service. You know, you are almost a son to me.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
“I know, General, you have been trying very hard, but I must have those missiles very soon. The world must be taught a lesson. They think I am now an insignificant factor. I will show them. My patience is getting thin.”
Stammering somewhat, Zuluka replied, ”I certainly understand, sir. My subordinates have put out many verbal feelers and written requests so far, but no arms dealer has responded. I will see that they try something different.”
Kunga took a step back, turned around and scratched his beard. “Solomon, I now order you to take charge of this personally. You make it happen. Get involved now!”
“Yes sir.”
“I have an old friend in Paris . . . Mia Coquelet . . . who has a knack for solving difficult issues. She has many unusual international contacts. I think she can help us. I want you to visit her and together find us a supplier who’ll deliver up to ten missiles.”
“How are we going to pay for them? Good ones are very expensive.”
“Take this phone with you. Three phone numbers are programmed into it: one is my number; one is Mia’s; the third is our financial backer in Entebbe. He can wire up to $500,000 US to any account within 24 hours.”
Eyebrows raised, Zuluka said, “That should be enough to meet your needs, sir.”
Turning his back and returning to the stool, Kunga commanded, “Go now and get it done. Have them shipped to my warehouse in Bangui by the end of next month.”
“Yes sir. I will leave immediately. I shall procure those missiles,” pledged Zuluka as he saluted and then bolted out of the tent.
Chapter Five
NSA Signals Intelligence Directorate, Bluffdale, Utah
To: Section Chief, SSO/SID
From: Tang Fulton
Roland, Section S2B/SID has been following communications and activities of a known terrorist in China, designated ‘Asia A1.’ After killing a multitude of people in Beijing, he was almost captured, but has been on the run for several months. Two weeks ago, Asia A1 made initial contact with a new target, ‘Asia A2,’ who’s a medium-high-level official of the Chinese government. Investigations have led our people to believe that A2 may be an old friend in Shanghai, unaware of A1’s present notoriety.
However, as a result of recent intercepted emails to and from A2 by new target ‘US B1’, living in Maryland, and numerous cryptographic messages subsequently extracted from internet traffic, they’ve started surveilling this domestic target who seems extraordinarily interested in MANPADS. The target is high profile, not because of a nefarious background, but because of prior activities involving cooperation interfaces with the CIA, and personal contacts with high-level officials of foreign governments. Section Chief S2B has requested that ongoing domestic intelligence monitoring of target US B1 be transferred to our Section.
* * *
To: Tang
From: Section Chief SSO/SID
B1 could be harmless. But we need to keep track of what target may be up to. I’ll suggest a FISA warrant be initiated to cover this future electronic surveillance. NSA needs to find out just who this B1 is, his relation to A2, and what he’s up to. See if you can complete a preliminary dossier about him this week.
Roland
* * *
Lee Residence, Adelphi, Maryland
“What do you mean, I won’t be happy?” said Bret. “What did Zhu say?”
“He said that changing your identity is a big deal. Not at all easy, and very time consuming,” answered Chu-lin. “Picking the right fake name is itself a challenge. You can’t just say, ‘I’m gonna be Joe Doakes for this caper.’”
“Why not?”
“There may be dozens of Joe Doakes in the world. What if there was an infamous Joe Doakes in prison for murder? What if the FBI was investigating a Joe Doakes as a potential terrorist? What if a Joe Doakes was a famous Canadian actor?”
“Okay, okay, Chu. Deciding on a fake name could take an inordinate amount of time to avoid complications. You were right. I’m already very unhappy.”
“Zhu to the rescue, Hon. He said you need to go online to ‘fake name generator dot com.’”
“You’re kidding me! Fake Name Generator? He’s making a joke.”
“Maybe not. Why don’t you go check it out?”
Bret jumped up from the dinner table and headed for his office computer. After twenty minutes, he excitedly returned to the kitchen nook. “Zhu wasn’t kidding. That free website is real; it’s fantastic.”
“Like alien spaceships?”
“Get this. I’ve decided my new name is going to be Steffan Doevendans.”
“Oooh, I like that name, Steffan.”
“The site even gave me a new fake home address, mother’s maiden name, and social security number.”
“Well don’t get too excited just yet, Steffan. First you have to convert all that fake information into a phony but usable birth certificate, driver’s license, and passport.”
After grimacing through an extended silence, Bret spoke, slowly spacing his words for emphasis: “That’s not gonna be easy.”
“Zhu used the words ‘very tricky,’ hon. Then, of course, we’d have to figure out how to turn Steffan into a well-known and accomplished arms dealer.”
“Enough already. You’re making me want to rethink this whole crazy idea.”
“Hmm. A thought just barged into my mind.”
“What?”
“Julien wants us to undertake this mission, and be successful, right?”
“Yeah, but with no help from his CIA buddies.”
“So why don’t we review our ideas and ask him? He’ll know what we should do, and can warn us of pitfalls that could get us in trouble.”
“Pitfalls?”
“Yeah, like on how to
avoid both of us getting arrested by the Feds for using bogus documents.”
“Okay, okay, we can present our ideas to Julien. But first we need to speak with Zhu at length . . . face to face. Pick his mind clean.”
“He won’t want to leave his wilderness home, Bret.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to go to Wisconsin.”
* * *
NSA Signals Intelligence Directorate, Bluffdale, Utah
To: Section Chief, SSO/SID
From: Tang Fulton
Roland, we’ve unmasked US B1, and learned that he’s a Professor of Chemical Engineering at the University of Maryland. His name is Bret Lee. He’s married to a Chinese woman, Chu-Lin. A former US Army officer, Lee has experienced some agent training by the CIA in a shortened program. In recent years, both Lee and his wife have been involved in occasional international spook stuff for a contract intelligence company headed up by Julien Jasper Jones. The Lees work as a team, and have had extensive contact and relations with the Chinese Ambassador to Venezuela, a top general in the Chinese army, the Prime Minister of Kurdistan and the President of Syria. About a year ago, B1 was actually imprisoned in, and escaped from, an ISIS prison near Raqqa. We have no idea what’s behind his current activities centered on SAMs.
From: Section Chief, SSO/SID
To: Tang Fulton
Tang, the fact that this very accomplished guy is communicating with an active target, Asia A2, who’s in the Chinese bureaucracy, is worrisome. See if you or your CIA contacts can determine if Lee is currently being supported by that same intelligence contractor. Learn as much as you can. Try to get back to me this week. I’m meeting with the FBI on Friday in a different case, but may decide to bring this activity to their attention.
Ghost of Africa Page 2
