Danger Close (Shadow Warriors)

by Lindsay McKenna

  May, 1985 Bangkok, Thailand

  “SENATOR FREDERICKS is forming a secret commission, Colonel Mackey.”

  Mackey turned the fragile white china cup filled with fragrant coffee between his hands. Opposite him was Chad Olsen, one of Frederick’s most trusted assistants. Outside the Bangkok restaurant, the city was just beginning to awaken to another day, the horizon tinged pink with dawn. The week before, Mackey had received a top-secret message. Senator Fredericks ordered him to meet with his assistant, Olsen. He glanced up at the Harvard graduate, who was dressed in a short-sleeved pale green shirt and a pair of dark brown slacks.

  “And?”

  Olsen nervously looked around even though he had chosen a secluded alcove in the almost deserted restaurant in the Shangri-La Hotel complex. Reassured that no one was sitting remotely near them, Chad pulled out a sheaf of copied papers from his briefcase.

  “The senator managed to get the debriefing reports from the psychiatrist who interviewed the seven wounded WLF women. Major Lane had agreed to let her women be examined by a team of psychiatrists after they returned Stateside from Thailand. These reports include several statements that have sent the senator into action.”

  Interested, Mackey picked up the reports, ranging in size from fifteen to thirty pages long. “Has Lane got these?”

  “No, sir. She’s tried to get her hands on them, but the commission that authorized the WLF has denied her access to these documents.”

  “I’ll bet that’s pissed her off,” Mackey grinned.

  Chad nodded. His blond hair was neatly cut and he fairly shouted of polish and confidence. “Considerably. There’s even been pressure from the Pentagon to get a copy of these reports.”

  Mackey peered through the haze of his cigar smoke to ask his next question. “Oh? Joint Chiefs, by any chance?”

  Chad grinned. They all continued to suspect that the Chairman of the JCS is Lane’s sponsor. “If it is, we can’t trace the request directly to him, Colonel.”

  Mackey grunted, flipping through the reports. “Of course not. Green wouldn’t be that stupid. He’d send a flunky lieutenant colonel he wanted to get rid of. So, what gives?”

  Eagerly, Chad leaned forward, his square hand resting on the reports between them. “Several things have come to the senator’s attention. First, all the women were hesitant to talk openly about Major Lane or her training and tactical movements in Thailand.”

  “I’m not surprised. If I’m right, those women over there live in virtual fear of that bitch.”

  “It would appear with good reason. One psychiatrist assigned to debrief them was Dr. Jo Ann Prater. She was able to get the trust of a Private Sarah Gent, who finally broke down in tears one day and really laid it on the line. Then, the doctor went to the others with the info and they finally corroborated Gent’s original testimony.”

  Mackey scowled, taking a sip of the coffee. “What did you find?”

  Olsen gave him a triumphant smile. “We hit pay dirt, Colonel. Five of the seven women admitted to being physically abused by either a noncom or an officer. Sarah was put into something called the Cellar. Apparently it’s a bombed-out bunker. Women who screw up are tossed in there for anywhere between four and ten days on a ration of bread and water. “

  “For Christ’s sake!” Mackey exploded, visibly shaken. He sat up in his chair. “Are you sure these women weren’t lying because they just wanted out of combat?”

  Olsen gravely shook his head. “No, sir, we’re convinced that the Cellar really exists. And so does the brutality dished out by Lane and her officers. They keep their women in line with threats and physical punishment.”

  Mackey, dressed in civilian attire to avoid recognition in the capital city, tried to regain his composure. “Look, the senator needs to be aware that there is a fine line between reprimand out in the field and abuse or brutality. I’ve seen a couple of my sergeants take a grunt out to the bush to knock some sense into him. You’d better make damn sure that what Lane is doing goes far beyond that magical line. Otherwise, if you haul her up before a hearing, she’ll make fools of you and embarrass the senator.”

  “We’ve got evidence. Cold, hard evidence, Colonel. Sarah Gent spilled the beans. She’s in rough shape emotionally because of combat and is leaning heavily on the woman shrink for support. Her physical revealed two fractures in her X-rays. One is her nose and the other is her left wrist. She admits that the damage was done by a Captain Ingram.”

  Mackey wanted to get up and pace. Anything was better than sitting here listening to evidence of Lane’s gestapo-like tactics. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender neck. “Lane carries around an oak swagger stick,” he snarled softly. “I’ll bet that’s what she uses on her troops.”

  “Yes, Gent said something about Lane always carrying it around with her. Anyway, another very interesting angle came up through this investigation. There’s a Corporal Cathy Fremont who, all of the women agree, is top gun. The enlisted women all feel the sun rises and sets on that woman. Apparently, Gent was in the corporal’s squad before she got wounded. She talked for hours to Dr. Prater about Fremont and how she defies Lane’s orders to keep her squad safe out in the bush.”

  “If Fremont’s that much of an independent, I’m surprised Lane’s let her survive,” Mackey said.

  “The major can’t afford to kill anyone. She has to keep her KIAs and WIAs low or else the American public will demand the women’s return. Lane’s not stupid.” Olsen’s serious face lit up. “Apparently, Fremont is a real misfit in the WLF. She’s stood up for her troops and was able to get them more rest time between those four patrols a day that Lane insists upon pulling.”

  “That’s pure murder in my eyes,” interjected Mackey. “No commander in his right mind would run four patrols a day with such a small contingent of soldiers. I don’t know why Lane hasn’t had more of her women killed yet. They’ve got to be getting exhausted by now. And when you’re bone tired, you make mistakes out in the bush.”

  Olsen smiled, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. “The way she keeps them in line is brutal discipline, threats of being thrown into the Cellar and fear. And it appears this Fremont is good enough to get away with bucking the system. She’s highly protective of her squad and actively argues with Ingram or the sergeants to get them more rest or less duty between patrols.”

  “So?”

  In a lowered voice, Olsen explained. “The reports have enabled the senator to get support from Congressman Gardner and his contingent in the House. They’ve asked Senator Fredericks to investigate what these WLF women have said. Of course, we’re keeping it out of the media for now. We want cold, hard proof. And here’s where you can help us….”

  Mackey braced for Olsen’s plan. What would this mean to his own agenda? He was unprepared for what was to follow, however.

  “Senator Fredericks wants you to find someone who’ll get to Cathy Fremont,” Olsen said quietly. “We feel she’s the perfect woman to testify in front of a hearing against Lane.” The aide noted his listener’s full attention, evident in Mackey’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. “It’s obvious Fremont has no love of Lane or the WLF,” he continued persuasively. “Her life revolves around keeping her women safe and alive. She doesn’t care for politics, philosophy or military score-keeping. All she’s trying to do is survive the next four months over in Thailand with the rest of her squad.”

  Mackey scratched his graying hair. “The senator wants me to choose an undercover person to get to her?”

  “Well,” amended Olsen, “Senator Fredericks felt it would be impossible to slip a woman agent into the WLF at this point. What he wants you to do is find a guy who inspires trust. He’ll then get to work winning Fremont over.”

  With a shake of his head, Mackey muttered, “That will be impossible. Lane won’t let any male Marine near her women.”

  Unruffled, Olsen smiled. “I hear from a reliable source that Lane is allowing all her women five days R & R in
Bangkok on a rotated basis, starting next month. Why couldn’t your man contact Fremont then?”

  “Five days to get Fremont’s trust and cooperation? I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. If Lane has her women running as scared as you say, what makes you think Fremont’s going to be cozy with an outsider? Don’t forget, Fremont has to go back to the WLF after those five days.”

  “If the right man can get to her, Colonel, she’ll go back to Lane’s outfit wired so we can tape any and all confrontations.”

  Leaning back, Mackey silently digested the idea for several minutes. “This is one hell of a long shot. Why can’t those women who have already been debriefed testify?”

  “None of them will. We can’t totally rely on the shrink’s report because it could be subject to dispute by a medical expert Lane might hire. It’s Dr. Prater’s opinion that four out of the seven are so committed to women’s rights that they won’t do anything to jeopardize the WLF. The other three, to put it bluntly, are emotional basket cases. In the doctor’s opinion, Gent has suffered an emotional breakdown. The doctor doesn’t feel the other two could begin to cope with the pressure of an open senate hearing. No, we need someone like Fremont who has the backbone to speak up.”

  “What makes you so sure she doesn’t believe in women in a combat role?” Mackey demanded.

  “I’ve got a videotape of the last news conference with Lane before they came over here. There’s a pretty revealing section on Fremont. You sit and listen to it and tell me she’s a dyed-in-the-wool believer.” He pulled another folder from his briefcase, passing it over to the colonel. “This is a file on Fremont. We used our source over at the Pentagon to pull any and everything we could on her. She’s an orphan, so it was tough tracking down background info on her. Anyway, what’s in there is as complete as we can make it. Read it now and then let’s discuss who you think might make a good contact person for Fremont.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Mackey perused the file on Fremont. He never recalled seeing her, but then, most of the Marines barely got glimpses of the WLFers except to see them coming and going on their patrols. A small river tributary flowed between his HQ and Delta, forming a natural barrier to match the orders issued by Lane. No Marine was ever allowed across that shallow river unless it was on official business. Mackey had no doubt that Lane would shoot the poor son of a bitch who mistakenly wandered into the women’s territory. So far, the Marines had taken to heart his order to never cross that river.

  He shut the file with finality, looking up at the aide. “All right, Olsen, I want the bottom line. Why is Senator Fredericks going to all this trouble? We both know the WLF issue has pro and con camps. Congress is equally divided, and so are the American people. What is he planning to do if this mission can be pulled off?”

  Olsen folded his hands in front of him. “As you know, Senator Fredericks is the front-running Republican candidate for the presidency in four more years. He has backing all the way up to the White House. He wants an inflammatory issue on which to take a stand that will unite America. He also wants to snag more of the blue-collar independent voters. We’ve taken several polls and they all show the blue-collar sect of our society is against women in combat. The senator feels if he can blow up this issue and prove Major Lane to be a monster, that voting group will fall into his lap. Naturally, when the hearing is finished, Senator Fredericks will be the man who saved our women from combat, destroyed Lane’s career and stood for human decency. A campaign issue like this is hard for either party to ignore, Colonel.”

  “And if this complex plan falls out like the senator expects, what do I get?”

  Olsen smiled broadly. “It hasn’t slipped the senator’s attention that next year, you’re up for general. The senator is willing to throw his considerable weight behind your promotion. How does that sound, Colonel?”

  Mackey didn’t smile, but he savored the idea. He believed wholeheartedly in the Marine Corps and knew he could contribute positively to it. And with backing from Senator Frederick, he would indeed be in a powerful position. Being the hard-core realist he was, he recognized the dangers inherent in the plan. “It sounds like one hell of risky idea, Olsen.”

  “Some risks are worth taking, Colonel, if the reward is big enough.”

  “There’s a lot of ifs to this plan,” warned Mackey sourly.

  “Yes, there are,” agreed Olsen cheerfully. “And we’re willing to aid you any way we can. Do you have anyone in mind that might fit the bill?”

  Mackey rubbed his jaw. “One man. The only one who might be able to do it. He’s got the right kind of personality but—”

  Olsen frowned. “But, what?”

  “He’s liable to be a problem himself.”

  “I don’t understand, Colonel.”

  Mackey heaved a sigh and sat back, negligently fingering the file before him. “His name is Captain Jim Boland. He was one of my Marine Force Recon officers during my previous tour. He’s been here in Thailand sector the last two months working with the ROKs up at Ban Pua. His Recon platoon is scheduled to return to my regiment shortly. He’s a damn fine officer. A man with integrity.” Mackey grimaced. “Boland inspires trust in others.”

  Puffing on his cigar, Mackey reflected somberly on his task. “My problem is going to be convincing Boland that there’s honor in this kind of mission. He won’t like it. He’s not particularly political, which goes against him, and he won’t understand why we want it done. Boland won’t like posing as something he’s not. He’ll also resist lying to Cathy Fremont in order to get her to be an informant.” He tapped the ashes off the cigar, studying the red, glowing tip. “Frankly, Olsen, convincing him will be the first step.”

  “Order him to do it.”

  Mackey stared at the younger man. “Listen, son, there are some things in the military that can’t be handled with a set of orders. This is one of those delicate occasions. Jim will have to want to do this for me because he believes in my integrity and assessment of the situation.” He shook his head. “Dammit, I’m going to have to lie to him and that’s not something I want to do.”

  “Look, Colonel, we’re all pawns in life. It’s just a question of who pushes whom around on that board. So, you use Boland. He uses Fremont. We use them both, to get us each something we want. It’s pretty cut-and-dried.”

  Displeasure crossed Mackey’s grizzled face. “You know, that’s how Major Louise Lane sees things.” He stubbed the cigar out, his voice sandpapery. “Are we just like her, Olsen? Are we any better than she is? Or do we just feel that our judgments and goals are more valid and worthy than hers?” He rose, picking up the reports and file. “Maybe we’re different-colored snakes, but we’re crawling out of a common hole, Olsen. What you’re asking is for me to manipulate a man whose integrity is above question. His kind of honor wouldn’t stoop to this level.”

  Olsen flushed and stood, nervously fingering his leather briefcase. “Colonel, that’s what politics is all about—manipulation. I don’t consider it vile or wrong as you evidently do.”

  Mackey smiled humorlessly and tucked the papers beneath his arm. “Don’t get me wrong. I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. And I consider the use of two people to get there a small price to pay. But don’t try to persuade me that what I’m doing is in the name of the flag, motherhood and apple pie. I’ll be leading Boland like a lamb to slaughter, stripping him of his personal integrity as a human being. Just like he’ll lead that woman to slaughter for us.” Mackey walked with Olsen toward the front of the empty restaurant. Looking over at the clean-cut assistant, he smiled regretfully. “You’re used to using up people like they were a disposable product, forgetting that they have hopes, feelings and dreams. All of that is disregarded in the name of politics, isn’t it?”

  Olsen colored fiercely. “You do the same thing or worse in battle, Colonel. You send men to die. Don’t tell me it bothers your conscience much or you wouldn’t be in a command position. Politics do eat up weaker people, I�
�ll agree. Just as you send troops into battle to die for a common goal, we unite people into groups and lobbies and get them to fight for our common goal.”

  “There’s one difference between us, Olsen,” Mackey said in a rasping tone as they swung out of the glass doors, heading toward the bank of brass elevators in the sumptuous hotel. “The military has a code of ethics for its own kind. We see ourselves as honorable men and women in a noble struggle to defend our country. You can’t say the same of politics or politicians.”

  Biting back a barrage of responses, Olsen punched the black button savagely. “Look, Colonel, I can tell you’re upset about using Captain Boland. If he’s as fine an officer as you say, I’m sorry he has to be sacrificed.”

  Anger stirred deep down in Mackey. “Spare me your hollow words of sympathy, Olsen. I’ll do what I have to, but it doesn’t mean I’ll like it. And don’t worry—I’m angry at myself, not at you. God help me, I’m just as much to blame in this as anyone, but I’ll do it just to get Lane once and for all.”

  “COLONEL MACKEY,” the sergeant said, poking his head around the door, “Alpha Company is landing now, sir.”

  Mackey lifted his head from the paperwork spread in neat piles around him. “Excellent. As soon as Captain Boland gets his men settled in, tell him to get over here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mackey didn’t want to admit that his heart was thudding heavily in his chest. Boland was finally here. Alpha Company, the reconnaissance section of the regiment, had been operating up at Ban Pua on temporary assignment. Black ops Recon units would be dropped deep behind enemy lines in Laos and then they would painstakingly work their way back toward the Mekong River, gathering Laotian movements, weapons and supply information. Their whole role was to remain undetected by the enemy. Mackey frowned. Everyone knew they operated over the border, but the official line was that no SEATO troops would cross the Mekong. Usually, ten days later if all went well, the team would be picked up by chopper at a predesignated point. But God help the team that was discovered.