Justification For Killing

by Larry Edward Hunt

  “You mean ‘nicotine fit’?”

  “Yes, of course, ‘fit’. What must I be thinking? Yes, a nicotine fit.” Before receiving an answer, she pulled a box of cigarettes, along with an exquisite gold lighter, from the clutch she had taken from her purse. With a flip of her thumb, she opened the lid on the box, removed an un-filtered cigarette and touched lighter flame to the end. Sucking in a lung-full of smoke she slowly exhaled the blue mist back into the air, “Hmmm, yes,” she said. “Gentlemen, would you excuse me for a moment... I need to go to the ladies room and powder my nose.” Sliding back from the table, she arose and walked across the restaurant to one of the restrooms located in the rear. The rhythmic taping of her heels reminded them of their initial meeting a few hours earlier at the Thai Pavilion.

  Sam Lin was watching her every move as she walked. Si Lei snickered, “Like what you see, huh?”

  “What?” Sam Lin absentmindedly answered, still engrossed in watching her go around the screen separating the restroom from the main seating area. “No! Si Lei... well yes, she is beautiful, but something is not right. I have a feeling she’s not being entirely truthful.”

  “What do you mean Sam Lin? She is our contact here in Bangkok. She is CIA, what is wrong with you Sam Lin?”

  “Okay, look at the box of cigarettes lying there in her open purse. It is a pack of Sobranies. That particular brand is Russian and is called ‘Black Russian’. Look the box is black with gold foil. Notice it is emblazoned with the Russian imperial eagle. Sam Lin, I remember these smokes, they are expensive Russian cigarettes made especially for the Russian taste.”

  “Just because she likes, what did you call them, Black Russians, doesn’t mean anything. We lived here for awhile, I bet lots of people smoke that brand.”

  “You’re right but what about the purse of hers. How many American women have you ever seen go to the restroom without taking their purse? Especially to freshen their makeup, none I tell you, N-O-N-E,” he said spelling the word. “In fact, American women will not go anywhere without their purse. It’s like leaving an arm behind. They always, and I mean always take it along. She left it as if she had forgotten it. Si Lei it is as if she had not been used to carrying it.”

  “What are you thinking Sam Lin?”

  “Nothing, she says she is CIA, and I suppose she is, but we never saw an identity badge or anything, just her word, and another thing, what about the nicotine thing? Everyone who smokes has said at least a million times, ‘I’m having a nicotine fit’. She doesn’t seem to be the person she says she is, but she has been giving us a lot of good information and — ”

  Softly Si Lei whispered, “Sssh, she is returning.”

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen. Where were we? Forgive me – I have monopolized the whole conversation. Let me rest for a moment, drink my tea and allow you to tell me exactly what you both expect to find in Bangkok?”

  “Earlier you said our Director had greased the tracks for our visit. You further stated you knew we were here to look for information on a man named Ryan Rousseau. Mr. Rousseau was our boss. What exactly did Director Scarburg divulge of our mission?”

  “Nothing much more than the subject Ryan Rousseau. Why are you so interested in him? Fill me in. What exactly is SCAR? What does the acronym mean? What is SCAR’s mission? How long has Mr. Rousseau worked for SCAR? Where is SCAR’s headquarters? What does Mr. Rousseau’s work entail?

  “Whoa... whoa... Kat, I thought the CIA would have already had the answers to all those questions — ”

  Before Sam Lin could complete his sentence, Kat interrupted, “Yes, yes we do, I did not read the whole file. I only became aware of your arrival just an hour or so before your plane landed. Sorry for all the questions.”

  The more she talked the more suspicious Sam Lin became. Si Lei started to answer Kay’s questions when Sam Lin turned to him and said, “Si Lei, excuse me, but remember you told your wife you would call her at precisely midnight.”

  “What.... my wife?” Questioned Si Lei.

  “Look at the time, it is 1:55 p.m. Saturday afternoon in Bangkok that means it is 11:55 p.m. Friday night back in the states. You only have a couple of minutes, come let’s walk outside the café for better reception. Excuse us for a couple of minutes Kat, Si Lei’s wife is rather demanding.”

  Grabbing Si Lei by the coat sleeve he pulled him to his feet and pushed him toward the open expanse of the concourse. All the time Si Lei was trying to resist the rough treatment he was getting.

  Stepping from the doorway into the stream of passengers, airport personnel and tourists scurrying up and down the concourse Si Lei jerked his arm from the grasp of Sam Lin and angrily demanded, “Brother! What in the heck are you trying to get me to do? I can’t call a wife I don’t have!”

  “Si Lei I had to get you alone – I’m telling you this woman is no CIA agent. Her true identify is unknown, but we must be careful and not divulge any more information than we have to. Just leave the talking to me. I believe I can handle her. Get your cell phone and call Captain Scarburg at home. Ask him whom he talked to in the CIA or the FBI and find out if he has ever heard of a woman named Katrina Ryabov. Tell the Captain we are on a hot lead, and will get back to him as soon as we have something concrete to report.”

  Speaking quietly to the Captain, Si Lei finished his telephone conversation with his “wife,” turned to Sam Lin and whispered, “Sam Lin, the Director said he tried to speak to the FBI Chief of the Legats at the U.S. Embassy here in Bangkok, but the Chief was away on Embassy business. He could do nothing but leave a message with his secretary to be given to the Embassy Chief on his return. He only informed the Legat Chief we were coming and asked if they would provide assistance in the investigation of Ryan Rousseau. He was unfamiliar with Katrina Ryabov, and had never spoken with the CIA chief.”

  “Sam Lin, remind me again, what is a Legat?”

  “The FBI does not have separate offices in foreign countries, they must work out of the U.S. Embassy, and as such their offices are called ‘Legal Attachés’ or ‘Legats’.”

  After a couple of minutes, standing in the cafe door way with Si Lei talking to his “wife” the two brothers re-entered the restaurant and returned to the table where Kat was exhaling the blue smoke from yet another cigarette.

  “Everything okay at home? She said flicking the ashes into an ornate ashtray sitting on their table.

  “Okay Miss Kat, Mrs. Ryabov or whoever you are. The game is up! We have just talked with our Director, and we have been informed that you are not a CIA agent! Is this correct?” Sam Lin demanded.

  “Sam Lin the Director did not — ” Si Lei said trying to tell Sam Lin the Director did not say anything about Katrina Ryabov, except he had never heard of her.

  “I know... I know Si Lei,” Sam Lin said cutting off Si Lei, “the Director said Kay Ryabov was definitely not an operative for the CIA. Was he lying Miss Who-ever-you-are?”

  Shamefully, Miss Ryabov sat with her head bowed. Tears were beginning to form as she began to speak, “No... no he was telling the truth!! I am not a CIA agent, it is true, but I do work for the FBI; whoever, I am not an agent. It was I whom your Director spoke to when he called to speak with my boss the Legal Attaché’s Chief. I am merely his secretary, I took the note saying you both were coming to Bangkok to investigate Ryan Rousseau.”

  “Why? Why Miss Ry....”

  “No, as I said, please call me Kat... Katrina Sokolov is my real name, but I have always used Kat.”

  “Why Miss Sokolov (still being formal), did you try to deceive us? What did you hope to gain?”

  “Gentlemen, I know you will not believe what I am going to tell you, but I swear by all that is holy, it is the truth.” For the next hour or so she explained how her grandfather Dr. Joseph Rusnak, a Russian by birth had surrendered to the American army close to the end of World War II. The American Office of Strategic Services, the OSS, at first, did not utilize his medical skills and only used him as an interpreter. He did
this job, thanklessly, until the war ended at which time the U.S. officials made a decision – to return him to Russian. Before they sent him back to Russian, they discovered he was a highly trained Psychiatrist. Not only did he have a Doctorate in Psychiatry but he was schooled in the field of Psychoanalysis also.

  “They realized his field of study included understanding psychoanalytic therapy that relied on patterns of both conscious and unconscious feelings and thoughts. The OSS also understood his goal of treatment was to make the unknown known so the patient could begin to recognize patterns of thinking, feeling and behavior, which was no longer relevant to their life situation. As a Psychoanalysis, he usually dealt with emotional issues affecting the mind and the patient’s well being. His skill as a Psychiatrist dealt with the treatment of mental, emotional, or behavioral problems of his patients.”

  “Sam Lin? Didn’t the OSS later become the CIA?” Si Lei asked.

  “Yes, Si Lei, very true.”

  “Do you see why my grandfather was a perfect choice for a project like MK-ULTRA?”

  “Yes, very interesting, go on Miss Sokolov.”

  “MK-ULTRA had not yet begun when the OSS assigned him duties in the mind-control research, but it wasn’t too many years until that black-ops program began officially. Grandfather was enthusiastic and grateful to be employed in a field allowing him to use his formal training; however, at first his work was theoretical but later they forced him to employ his research on real human subjects. His enthusiasm turned to disappointment as he realized the harm he and others in the MK-ULTRA program were doing to their test subjects.

  “At first he went along with his, then OSS, superiors, but he became more and more disillusioned with his and the other doctor’s work. Finally, he made up his mind: the mind-control method using both legal and illegal drugs, and chemicals on their subjects was morally wrong. He was opposed to using hypnotism, sensory deprivation, verbal or sometimes sexual abuse, and totally against the use of torture to achieve the OSS/CIA mind-altering goals.

  “As you can imagine his meeting with his superiors did not go well, and as you can further guess, it did not end well either. As you might have surmised by now, there never was a Doctor Fred Osborn. I made him up - Doctor Fred Osborn was the name I used for my grandfather Doctor Joseph Rusnak!! The CIA murdered him!”

  “Okay,” said Sam Lin. “Now I am beginning to see the picture. Now, tell us how you got involved.”

  “My mother was twelve years old when Grandfather was murdered. She never got over his death - she died right after I was born. I was born in 1984, and Mama died in 1985. My Father sent me to the United States to live with my aunt, I never saw my Papa again.”

  “Dog-gone-it, Sam Lin, that’s the same year we were born!”

  “Yes Si Lei you are correct, go on Kat.”

  “The Agency killed my grandfather and indirectly caused the early death of my mother, and I don’t know, they may have killed my Father also, so I was raised without the benefit of love from any of them. Once I got of age I determined I was going to avenge all of their deaths.”

  “Avenge or revenge?”

  “Revenge, if you want to call it, I prefer to call it “Justice”. I obtained a Major in Criminal Justice and Minor in Foreign Languages. After graduation, I obtained a job with the FBI in Washington. I wanted to work as an Office Manager, not a Special Agent. I thought I would have a better opportunity to dig into the FBI records without drawing attention to myself in an office position. After a few years in Washington, I requested a transfer to Bangkok. With my knowledge of the local language, I was able to land a position in the Chief’s office of the Legal Attaché.”

  “All right Kat, I believe we are all on the same page now. Tell us more.”

  “Okay, as I have already said, I found out Ryan Rousseau was Chief of the Office of Cerebral Information and Intelligence. I also found out the CII section was just another name for MK-ULTRA. Rousseau was the man I was after, but after he had left Bangkok, I was never able to find out where he went because his file was sealed. That is, not until your boss gave me his name in his telephone call to my boss saying you both were coming over here seeking information on him. I devised my charade hoping to find out more about that devil Rousseau. That was the reason for my prying into your business. I thought if I pretended to be a CIA agent you might divulge more information to me.”

  “Thank you... thank you Kat for being honest with us. I believe Si Lei will agree, working together will be beneficial to both our causes. Let me say, we weren’t at all honest and up front with you either – Ryan Rousseau is not up for a promotion in our SCAR organization. He is the Chief of the Experimental Design Division in our Washington headquarters, that is a fact, and he has been there since SCAR was formed in the late ‘60s. Our Director Robert Scarburg, the one you talked to believes Mr. Rousseau tried to kill him, and he further believes Rousseau is a “mole,” his only question is - a mole for whom? And he would like to know for what reason? Our Director also believes MK-ULTRA may provide the answers. Kat could I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly, anything to help.”

  “Do you have any proof of your grandfather’s involvement with the MK-ULTRA project? Especially proof that the OSS or CIA was involved.”

  “Yes I do. I have a leather satchel full of my grandfather’s papers in a storage locker at my condo. I have read a lot of his notes, but my main emphasis was to find Mr. Rousseau. If I could have found Rousseau, I was going to expose him for the fiend he is. I wanted to put him to shame - yes, I wanted to make him hurt like I have hurt all my life. I had even imagined I would kill him when I found the hole he was hiding in.”

  “Kat, would it be possible for us to see those documents? You were taking a look at Rousseau in connection with MK-ULTRA, we have a new set of eyes, which might see something you missed.”

  “It is getting late – if you both will allow, I will take you to my condo and you can search through Grandfather’s papers. As you both look through the satchel I will prepare dinner - how does a good, hot, home cooked, meal sound?”

  For the first time in the last couple of hours, Si Lei heard something he liked, “Food!! Yes, sounds great to me.”

  The time was 4:45 p.m. Saturday, December 1, 2012.

  KAT’S CONDO 2B

  Leaving the Bangkok International Airport in Kat’s Cadillac STS-V8 Si Lei could not stop complimenting her about how cool her automobile was. “Si Lei please be quite,” said Sam Lin, “you’re embarrassing Ms. Sok... Sok... uh... Kat.”

  “No, it’s okay. It is a nice car. I bought it from an FBI employee who was being transferred back to the U.S. I got it at a great bargain; otherwise, I would not have able to afford it.”

  As Si Lei rubbed his hand across the soft, black leather seats, they continued to drive north until Miss Sokolov reached Highway Seven. A left turn, then thirty-four kilometers and forty-five minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the Tiboon Condo Town cluster of townhouses. Her apartment building was an attractive, European style, eighteen unit, three-floor complex designed for the foreign clientele working in Bangkok.

  Opening the driver’s door she stepped down to the asphalt pavement of the parking lot, remarking, “I’m on the 2nd floor, apartment 2B. The storage lockers are in the basement. I use locker 3B also since the apartment above me is being renovated. The locker space is unused, so what they don’t know doesn’t hurt them, right? I need the extra storage. Well actually, renovate, may be a stretch,” she continued. “The construction has been going on for two years, and it is still not completed. The workmen evidently work on their own peculiar Thailand time schedule.”

  The three walked up the sidewalk to the entrance, “Please push the buzzer for my apartment. Malita, my roommate will buzz us in.”

  Once... twice... three times Si Lei pressed the apartment button labeled ‘2B’. There was no response – there was no ‘buzz’ to open the locked main entrance door. “I don’t understand, tod
ay is Saturday? Malita does not work on the weekend. She should be here. I wonder why she will not ‘buzz’ us in? Hold on, I’ll get my key to open the door.”

  Apartment 2B was the apartment on the right at the first landing. The door was slightly ajar. Kat and Si Lei were motioned to stop by Sam Lin as he slowly pushed on the white painted, steel, supposedly, burglarproof door with his foot. Swinging open the door a few inches allowed him to see inside, it was dark; the lights were off.

  A pungent smell from inside the apartment drifted to his nose. Sam Lin cocked his head and sniffed again. He had smelled this nauseous odor before - it was easy to recognize - Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia... death has the same repugnant stench in every country. He was sorry to say he remembered it remarkably well from each of these places. As operatives for the Company, both he and Si Lei had been assigned numerous missions in and out of all these countries during the Vietnam War where Death accompanied them as their constant companion.

  “Please stay out here Kat - come on Si Lei,” pushing open the door the two men were standing in a once fashionably furnished and decorated apartment’s living room. Now it was a shamble. Furniture was askew, couch pillows had been thrown in all directions; slits had been cut in the seat cushions. The end table drawers and all their contents had been dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Trash and the remains of furniture were strewn everywhere.

  “Looks like someone was searching for something?” Si Lei said, kicking some of the debris aside on the floor.

  “What gave you the first clue Sherlock?” replied Sam Lin sarcastically.

  Switching on the lights he turned to the open entranceway, and motioned for Kat to enter. “Did you tell anyone you were meeting us last night?”

  “No!! No one... I wouldn’t tell... oh, but wait!”