“Son-of-a-bitch,” Jake hissed. “Those are the fuck’en guys who’re running this bandit operation. They aren’t Army or CIA. They’re drug smugglers.”
“Not Commies, are they?”
“No, but they cooperate with the Communists.”
“We can’t do much with them if they aren’t Commies, mate. That’s your problem and you didn’t seem to be doing all that well with ‘em.”
They were right, Jake realized. They were his problem and he wasn’t doing all that well with them.
At 11:00 p.m. four members of the A-team sat drinking hot tea with Jake while discussing the war. The nun stood quietly in the corner refusing to say anything to any of them.
One of the A-team members standing watch outside stepped to the door and said, “They’re here.”
The radioman switched on his radio, waited a few seconds for the set to warm up and then called, “Smoky, this is Dingo. Smoky, this is Dingo.”
“Smoky here. Go Dingo.”
“We’re secure here. Have your friends watch for the blue light.”
“Roger.” Hank gave an authentication code, which was properly answered.
“Smoky to Nimrod. Smoky to Nimrod.”
“Nimrod,” came the reply.
“They’re secure down there. Watch for the blue light.”
“Roger.”
Seconds later John Slaughter walked into the little hut.
“Hello, mate. Care for some hot tea?” one of the Aussies greeted John.
“No, thanks. Who’s she?”
“Sister something or another from the Catholic church. She needs to go back to Viet Nam,” Jake answered.
“She goes with you. Jolly Green is inbound.”
“You remember those two CIA clowns you arrested at Ubon?” Jake asked.
“Yea.”
“They aren’t CIA any more. They’re private business men moving dope down river.”
“What!?”
“Yea. Both choppered out of here an hour ago with two Army warrants. They’re probably bogus, too.”
“Son-of-a-bitch! I had one of them in custody a few days ago and that faggot lawyer at Ubon turned him loose.”
”Before you go after them, can you help find my wizzo? We got separated when we punched out.”
John hesitated, then said, “We found him in the river, Jake.” Jake started for the door, but John put his hand on Jake’s chest. “Sorry, Jake. They’re bagging him now.”
“Shit!” Jake hissed, clenching his fists. He looked at John and said, “You catch those two assholes, John, you kill them.”
“They called in the air strike on us and now one of my men is dead. I’m gonna rack their nuts so hard they’ll beg to die.”
“Well, mate. We’ll leave it to you. Call if you need us again.” The A-team then walked out and disappeared into the darkness.
“Chopper’s here,” someone yelled.
Within seconds, marker flares were burning and the huge HH-53 Jolly Green Giant hovered in the clearing, resting the back ramp on the hillside. Jake and the nun were rushed on board, followed by a narcotics agent carrying the body bags with the remains of their agent killed by the cluster bombs and Jake’s back seater.
UBON RTAFB
Eddie and Mack Klevenger met the helicopter when it landed. Jake walked off the back ramp carrying the AK-47 and wearing a big smile.
Eddie ran over and shook Jake’s hand. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
Eddie noticed the nun standing at the chopper several feet from Jake. “Who’s she? Your date?”
Jake glanced back at her, then whispered to Eddie, “Fuck you, Donevant.” He reached out and introduced the nun to Eddie and Mack, explaining her need to get back to Viet Nam.
Mack took her to get a room, leaving Eddie and Jake to ride in the back of a Security Police pickup truck.
Jake cleaned up and ate, then he and Eddie returned to the Projects Office at 12:30 a.m. They found Teresa seated at Ray’s desk smoking a cigarette.
“Well, Major, glad to see that you’re still among the living,” she said.
“Glad to still be among the living,” Jake replied. “And you are?”
“Teresa. I’m taking Ray’s place while he’s away.”
Jake looked at Eddie, who sat at his desk searching for forms. “Hey.”
Eddie looked up.
“Who’s she?”
“That’s Teresa. She’s taking Ray’s place while he’s away.”
Jake expression turned mean. “You’re trying my patience, boy,” he growled.
“She found you, Jake. Lighten up.”
Jake’s expression changed to a questioning look.
“She’s from DIA, Bangkok. A photo interpreter. She had the blackbirds follow you to the village, but they lost you in the attack. That’s why I had Hank call out the troops.”
Jake seemed satisfied with that explanation and sat on the couch.
“You act like you don’t trust women, Major,” Teresa said, taking a jab at Jake.
“I don’t trust nothing that bleeds for more than three days and doesn’t die.”
Her jaw dropped in shock at his reply and her face reddened.
Eddie pretended not to hear the exchange. He pulled out a form, stuck it on the clipboard, and handed it to Jake. “You know the routine. All the sordid details. Just a mind dump. I’ll Q-A you about it, then clean it up in the final report. Any questions?”
“Yea. You got a pen?”
“Here, use a pencil.”
Eddie pulled some change from a cup in his desk drawer and asked, “Anything from the soft drink machine?”
“Coke,” Jake answered, without looking up.
“Mountain Dew for me,” Eddie said and held out the money to Teresa.
She crushed out her cigarette and took the change on her way out the door.
Eddie gave her a few seconds to get out of hearing distance before saying, “Lighten up on Teresa.”
“Sounds like you’re giving orders, Lieutenant.”
“I’m only going to say this once, Jake. Stay off her ass.” There was a bite of anger in Eddie’s voice.
Jake stared at Eddie for a few seconds, saw that he was very serious, so nodded and returned to his writing. He assumed that Eddie had established a relationship with Teresa and any friction between him and Teresa would result in friction between him and Eddie.
CHAPTER SIX
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
27 February 1975
“Morning, Jill.”
“Morning, Mr. President.”
He handed her a photo copy of a message. “Have a seat and read that. It’s on that Pinnacle Press thing.”
Jill took a seat in a chair and the President walked to the wet bar.
“What are you drinking?”
He had a glass that he was going to refill.
“Oh, just whatever you’re having will be fine. Thank you.”
The TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY message still had the headings in crypt. The message itself was typed in block letters.
1.CIA FIELD AGENTS FOSTER AND PETERSON (FURTHER ID POSSIBLE FROM DCI) WERE ARRESTED BY BNDD AGENTS IN OCT. 74 AT UBON, THAILAND, FOR TRAFFICKING IN BRICK OPIUM. AGENTS WERE RETURNED TO THE STATES AND DISMISSED FROM CIA EMPLOYMENT. BOTH HAVE RETURNED TO S.E.A. AND ARE DIRECTING MOVEMENT OF BRICK OPIUM OUT OF GOLDEN TRIANGLE.
2.TO DATE, THE TWO HAVE USED THEIR CONTACTS WITHIN THE CIA STRUCTURE TO ORDER AIR STRIKES ON CAMBODIAN NARCOTICS POLICE AND BNDD PERSONNEL. ON 22 FEB. 75 ONE BNDD AGENT WAS KILLED IN FRIENDLY FIRE AIR STRIKE CALLED IN BY EX-CIA AGENTS. ON SAME DATE ONE U.S. PILOT WAS KILLED AND ONE F-4 AIRCRAFT LOST TO GROUND FIRE FROM DRUG SUPPLY BASE UNDER CONTROL OF EX-CIA PERSONNEL.
3.REQUEST PRESIDENTIAL AUTHORI
ZATION TO USE PINNACLE PRESS RESOURCES TO LOCATE AND STRIKE HOSTILE NARCOTICS FORCES.
4.RECOMMEND SIGNIFICANT WITHDRAWAL OF CIA FIELD PERSONNEL FROM S.E.A. IN ORDER TO PROTECT BNDD AND U.S. MILITARY FORCES FROM ATTACK.
5.ARA. (1) IS R-2. PARA. (2) IS R-1.
Jill looked up from the message to see the President standing in front of her holding out a glass.
“Mr. President, who wrote this?”
The President walked back to his desk, sat down, and picked up another piece of paper. “One is a DIA analyst named Lieutenant Eddie Donevant. The other is Major Thadeus Jacobs, commander of a fighter squadron in Thailand. The major was in the F-4 that was shot down and was rescued from the CIA - or ex-CIA - agents by friendly military forces operating in the area.”
Jill took a sip of her drink. Scotch. And it’s at least his second already this morning. This man has a real drinking problem, she thought.
“So, what do you recommend?”
“First, Mr. President, we’ll have to verify this message. Both the senders and the content.”
“I already have. Both are top men. Air Force fighter pilots. And the military, both ours and the Thai’s, verify both incidents. What should my response be?”
Jill took another sip from her glass. “You’ll have to discuss this with the CIA Director before you decide what action to take. With the current situation in Southeast Asia you really can’t afford to pull the plug on the CIA. They’re our eyes and ears.”
The President nodded. “Yes, that’s true. What about the request to strike back at drug bases?”
“Ah,” Jill hesitated, then slowly said, “Mr. President, I really think this should be brought up before the next National Security Council (NSC) meeting. That will be in three days.”
The President looked at his calendar. “The second.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Keep that copy. Find out all you can about those two ex-CIA agents. And get a full brief from DIA. Talk to the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs (BNDD). I’ll tell their chief to expect you. Be ready for a full brief at the NSC meeting.”
Jill jotted a few quick notes before saying, “Yes, sir.” She set her drink on the wet bar and walked to the door.
“Oh, ah. Jill.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile.
She returned the smile and walked out.
NATIONAL SECURITY COUNCIL MEETING
THE WHITE HOUSE
2 March 1975
The National Security Council meeting had been in session for over an hour when the Pinnacle Press item was called. Jill Howard, the assistant national security advisor, was called in from an adjoining room to give her briefing. The topic was then opened for discussion.
“What’s the story on these guys, Burt?” the President asked the CIA Director.
“As she said, they were caught smuggling. We discussed the problem and everyone at my shop agreed that they had to go.”
“Why no criminal prosecution?”
The Attorney General leaned forward. “Jurisdictional question, Mr. President. I felt we lacked the jurisdiction to prosecute a multi-national smuggling case in a foreign country.”
“Bullshit. What was the real reason?”
The CIA Director pulled the pipe from his mouth. “I didn’t want a public trial at this point. Didn’t feel it was serious enough to open the box on everything we’ve got going on over there right now.” He gave the President one of those casual looks that told him it was best not to dig too deeply into the issue.
“What about pulling their passports?”
The Secretary of State said, “First, no legal basis. Second, they’d just falsify one and go anyway. And third, it keeps them away from the press.”
The President nodded and waved his hand for other questions or comments.
After a few seconds of silence, Jill asked, “What action is the CIA taking to cut these two off from their old sources over there? They’ve killed at least two Americans so far.”
“Word has gone out that they’re persona non grata,” the CIA Director said. “That should lock them out of our intelligence system over there.”
“But, Burt,” the DIA Chief said, “they can still hurt us pretty badly over there with what they know. We’ve got to do something to shut them up.”
“Are you proposing a wet operation against them?”
“Not specifically, but if that’s what it takes, I wouldn’t rule it out.”
“What are we talking about here, gentlemen?” the President asked.
“The general here seems to think that Foster and Peterson have been alive too long.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Mr. President,” the DIA Chief shot back, glaring at the CIA Director. “These two are very knowledgeable about all our operations in Southeast Asia. They could still sell their knowledge or they could use that knowledge against us themselves. We need to pick them up and bring them home.”
“How tough are these two?” the President asked.
The CIA Director lit his pipe and calmly eyed the President. “Not very. Harvard and Princeton boys with MBA’s. Neither is Green Beret trained or anything like that.”
“Mr. President,” the BNDD Director called out. “Our records reflect that Foster was arrested about a month back in Laos by our agents there. However, an Air Force lawyer who reviewed the case ordered him released. No probable cause for the arrest, he said.”
The President turned to the Attorney General. “What can we do?”
He shrugged. “Murder charges, but we have the jurisdiction question to deal with. We could have them picked up as a threat to our national security, but that would take a finding signed by you. Or we could make it a wet operation.”
“Kill them?”
The Attorney General nodded.
The President looked at his National Security Advisor, who dropped his head and declined to give an opinion. The others at the table were silent.
“Jill?” the President said.
“I recommend that they be picked up and held in the States while things settle down over there. If they refuse to come in, then we can use other means to stop the threat they pose.”
The President thought about it for several seconds, made some notes, and then moved on.
“Okay. It has been proposed that we use our Pinnacle Press operation in Cambodia to move against the drug traffickers in that region. Does the drug threat warrant that kind of response?”
The BNDD Director quickly spoke up. “Sixty plus percent of the heroin arriving in the country comes from that trade. Only thirty some percent comes from the Middle East. I’d call that a serious national threat.”
“Heroin usage is on the decline,” the CIA Director said. “We expect that trend to continue for the foreseeable future.”
“It’s declining because we’re squeezing the supply network, Mr. Director. If we start hitting them hard over there now, we’ll really cut back on the amount of heroin reaching our shores.”
“Let’s not forget that those same people who are moving drugs are also supplying us with most of our intel from over there.”
“So, we let dope dealers continue to flood our country with heroin so that you can verify that the Communists are kicking our ass all over Southeast Asia. I really think you guys at CIA have a problem with your priorities.”
“And possibly you folks at BNDD have confidence in the source of the message. We at CIA question his motives and reliability.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” the Attorney General said, opening the newspaper to a back section and setting it before the BNDD Director. “The Donevant woman that was just convicted of this drug charge is the wife of the Donevant who wrote that message. We’re investigating the possibili
ty that they may be working together to move brick opium into the country.”
The BNDD Director quickly scanned the story and said, “Yea, I remember reading this, but this is a marijuana case. Possession with intent to deliver. What’s this got to do with ex-CIA agents ordering air strikes on my agents in Southeast Asia?”
The CIA Director said, “One of the planes that bombed your people in Cambodia was flown by Donevant. He’s been grounded.”
“And don’t forget,” the Attorney General added, “that so far only an Air Force pilot has been court-martialed for flying dope. No one else has been convicted.”
“Let’s get back to the point, gentlemen,” the President said, checking his watch. “Do we cut back on our CIA operations anywhere in Southeast Asia?”
Everyone except the BNDD Director shook his head no.
The President made a note and then moved to the next point. “What about using Pinnacle Press resources to hit the opium smugglers?”
“We can’t be sure we’re hitting drug smugglers and not our own people or innocent civilians just moving goods on the rivers and highways,” the CIA Director said.
“Yea,” the BNDD Director added. “Especially when they may be one-in-the-same.”
The CIA Director’s face flushed with anger. “I take exception to that, sir.”
The President ignored the barbed exchange. “Jill, any thoughts?”
“Yes, Mr. President. The Communists are going to win. We know that. All Pinnacle Press is designed to do is slow them down a little and extract a price for their victory. Hitting the opium shipments, on the other hand, prevents the raw opium from reaching the factory. It costs the suppliers money, raises the price, and, most importantly, it limits the flow of heroin coming into this country. I see hitting the opium smugglers as a direct national defense action. Bombing the Communists is just retribution for us losing the war.”
The President nodded in agreement. The DIA Chief saw which way the President was inclined on that issue and quickly said, “Yes, I agree. We started hitting them and here is our chance to cut the flow near its source while we still have the manpower and resources available to do it.”
“Absolutely, Mr. President,” the BNDD Director said.
The Attorney General glanced at the scowl on the CIA Director’s face, took a deep breath, and looked at the President. “It is better to hit the drug flow at the source, but we take the chance of killing innocent people or even some of our own people.”
The Wrong Side of Honor Page 12
