by Luke Bencie
PRAISE FOR THE CLANDESTINE CONSULTANT
“Luke Bencie’s “The Clandestine Consultant” offers a realistic glimpse into the world of US intelligence and the shadowy regions of the world where its operatives and cohorts orbit one another. Though a work of fiction, this book should be considered a prime resource for anyone seeking a better understanding of modern spycraft. It provides rich insight into the global intelligence apparatus, which today is populated by actors from both governments and the private sector, and melds the two into a compelling storyline. Readers will walk away with a better understanding of the world in which we all live.
-General James L. Jones (Retired), Former US National Security Advisor
“Bencie’s book provides the reader with a unique and tantalizing look into the mysterious world of high-level, top secret intelligence consultants. The situation in the world today, provides a backdrop for the events that take place in the book and makes its relevance even more meaningful.”
-William Esposito, Former FBI Deputy Director
“A great spy thriller with surprising twists upon twists and hair raising excitements -- the hero, a businessman spy, plies his trade around the globe in some of the most volatile areas in today’s news . . . the tale is chock full of real spy tradecraft and cleverly drawn shady and dangerous characters”
-Mike Sulick, Former Director of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service
“Most people cannot even comprehend that nefarious people like this actually exist… after three decades of bringing these characters to justice, believe me they do.”
-Malcolm Brady, Former Assistant Director of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms
“A fascinating thriller that keeps you spell-bound, make sure you don’t miss the real-life lessons and advice on personal security”
-Lt. General PT Mikolashek (Retired), Former Inspector General, US Army and Commanding General, Third United States Army
“A gripping account of [fictional reality]”. . . “a daunting repertoire of [if, when] scenarios haunting the mind of every consultant working on the global stage.”
-Steven H. Gurley, Former FBI, Special Agent In Charge and former Deputy Director of CIA’s Counterterrorist Center
“Most business leaders, wise in the way of the balance sheet and masterful in the art of the deal, are surprisingly naive about the wiles of global trouble spots, which is why they need to read ‘The Clandestine Consultant’.”
-François Baird, Chairman, Baird’s CMC, an international firm of communications management consultants in 17 countries
“A must read for the business leader who travels the world! While fictional in content, Bencie’s real-world experiences blended into this book provides the reader an intriguing and insightful spy thriller. It shows the challenges, and unique ‘characters,’ the intelligence consultant must deal with in their day-to-day efforts. Reader take notice.”
-Maj. Gen. Edward A. Leacock, (Retired), Former Mobilization Assistant to the Director, Defense Intelligence Agency
“Luke Bencie demonstrated his literary flair in Among Enemies: Counter-Espionage for the Business Traveler, a valuable guidebook on thwarting business travel espionage that rang true as the Liberty Bell - before it was cracked, that is. Its veracity stemmed from Bencie’s own personal experiences across every continent on the earth. Most of those experiences were, of course, redacted by one government agency or another, which makes a novel the next logical step forward for Luke’s storytelling. Nothing you read in spy novels or see in spy movies will prepare you for Bencie’s first novel, The Clandestine Consultant. It’s everything he couldn’t write about in a nonfiction book, and he writes well. You will find yourself sucked down the international intrigue and danger rabbit hole, right behind The Tall Man. Move over, Alex Berenson. You’ve got competition.”
-Jack B. Rochester, Author of the Nathaniel Hawthorne Flowers novels: Wild Blue Yonder - Madrone - Anarchy
THE CLANDESTINE CONSULTANT
LUKE BENCIE
The Clandestine Consultant
by Luke Bencie
© Copyright 2017 Luke Bencie
ISBN 978-1-63393-419-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the CIA or any other US government agency. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying US government authentication of information or Agency endorsement of the author’s views. This material has been reviewed by the CIA to prevent the disclosure of classified information.
Published by
210 60th Street
Virginia Beach, VA 23451
800-435-4811
www.koehlerbooks.com
For Mick
“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.”
-Sun Tzu, from The Art of War
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
IDENTITY
KINGS I
THE CLIENT
IN TRANSIT
AFRICA
HIS MAJESTY
MEMBERS ONLY
OVERBOARD
CHEAP DATES
SHOW TIME
CONDUCTING THE OPERATION
SHEIKS II
DOWN TIME
BUSINESS CLASS
TO ARMS
FLYING SOLO
THE RUSSIAN
MR. WINGTIPS
THE DESERT
WARLORDS III
THE FATA
DIRTY TOENAILS
ICE MAN
DICTATORS IV
ASSASSINATE
LUCKY 13
OPERATION CONSULTOR
THE RECEPTION
THE MORNING AFTER
COLD SHOULDER
GOLDEN GOOSE
AMIGO
NOW YOU SEE ME . . .
. . . NOW YOU DON’T
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
Location: Somewhere within the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border
Time: Unknown
I open my eyes and can’t see. I am having trouble breathing. The air is rancid and stale. I hear yelling but I can’t understand any of it. I can’t move. My arms are tied behind my back, my feet are bound and I am lying on my side. Pain erupts in the side of my head. I think the butt of a rifle has just struck me in the temple. Vomit covers my face. I realize that there must be some type of sack over my head.
Immediately, a bright white light burns my eyes, as the sack is ripped off. I put my forehead to the ground to shield my eyes. The yelling persists. Another pain shoots through my ribs from a boot planted in my side. The acrid, rusty taste of blood now replaces the residual vomit in my mouth. I am severely dehydrated and my brain is throbbing. I am confused and disoriented.
I try to regain my composure and look up at the men in front of me. There are three of them. Whalid Talibani, the imposing tribal warlord, stands in the middle. His two accomplices are wearing black hoods, their eyes glaring through makeshift holes cut in the fabric. They each hold AK-47s, while the hulking figure of Talibani swings a long machete-like knife lik
e a pendulum. Still failing to grasp the complete picture of my surroundings, I look down upon my tired body kneeling in the dirt. Suddenly, a wave of fear jolts my senses into hyperdrive. My adrenaline is pumping at maximum capacity and my mind becomes more alert than a person high on cocaine for the first time. I piss myself without care. I have just realized that I am wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, the kind of standard-issue garment worn by terrorist detainees in prison camps or more importantly, the kind of jumpsuit worn by so-called “Western infidels” right before radical Islamists execute them on camera.
This is it, I think. All my life’s work, everything that I did up until this point, everyone I’ve ever met, this is how it ends. I actually laugh at the thought of my next high school reunion, where all anyone there will talk about is how the guy they went to school with got his head chopped off on YouTube. But if that comes to pass, no one will ever know why; that’s because no one knows who I am and what I do. That was apparent six weeks earlier on a flight from Dubai to Washington. It was the beginning of a journey that got me into this mess.
Six weeks earlier . . .
IDENTITY
Location: 38,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean on Emirates Air Flight 231 from Dubai to Washington, Seat 1A
Time: 1200 hours
To the other passengers sitting around me in first class, as well as the attentive cabin crew refilling my glass of Bordeaux, I was just another anonymous businessman somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five.
Little did they know I hold a treasure trove of interesting secrets—some of which have shaped the course of world history. In the very near future, more of these secrets will unfold into events with life-changing consequences for thousands of people. You might read about them in newspapers and wonder how or why they happened. Or, perhaps you won’t hear of them at all. But I knew they were coming. I might even have caused them.
Who am I? Perhaps a spy, you might think. Maybe an assassin? More innocently, I might be lawyer, a lobbyist, or a diplomat. Or could it be that I’m a thief? What about an international arms dealer?
The truth is I am (in my mind, at least) none of these things. But by technical definition I am also all of them. But for now, call me an international consultant. That’s what my business card reads, that and my email address: [email protected]. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not even a name or phone number. My job is to advise and assist those at the highest levels of power and influence. My client list includes kings, sheiks, warlords, and dictators. Sometimes, I also help the ultra-rich and maybe the occasional high-level politician. I solve their toughest and most embarrassing problems. Discretion is my policy, and I am particular for whom I do work. That’s why I avoid celebrities altogether. They’re too emotionally unstable and cannot keep secrets.
As secretive and mysterious as I am, turn on the television and chances are you’ll see the results of my work. At any given time, 75 percent of the planet is undergoing some form of turmoil or strife. Wars, uprisings, invasions, economic crises, insurrections, famine, disease—the list goes on and on. The world is not a nice place. Never has been. But where most people read the newspapers or their websites and bemoan the chaos and despair, I read them to scout for clients and profits. Single-paragraph news stories, tucked away in the bottom corner of the international section, provide me with an abundance of leads. You could say I specialize in the disreputable.
I don’t advertise my services, nor do I solicit business from strangers. I work strictly by referrals from previous clients, some of whom, interestingly enough, despise one another so much they have tried killing one another. Remember the saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” Well, I’m the person who maintains that relationship between enemies. I’m the ultimate middleman—a fixer.
Say your country needs to pass a message to another country with who you’re at war. I’ll be the conduit. Say you need to conduct a coup d’état in Africa. Be sure to call me first. I’ve compiled a solid track record of removing one political party and installing another. Want to host the World Cup in your country? I’m your best chance of discreetly negotiating the bribe to soccer officials on your behalf while keeping your reputation intact. Need to target the world’s most-wanted criminals or terrorists? I’ll point you in the right direction. Need to disappear? I have skills that would make Houdini blush. I facilitate and eliminate.
My services don’t come cheap.
My bank accounts—scattered across several continents in various currencies—total around 40 million euros. The amount should be much higher, but I have a tendency to piss away money as quickly as I earn it. It’s a decent sum for someone who grew up fairly modestly in a simple place, which is about the only hint of my past I’ll share.
My name isn’t important, either. Hell, I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me by my birth name. Most of my clients simply refer to me as “The Tall Man,” because I stand six-feet-four-inches, or nearly two meters. I enjoy being tall, but it can sometimes be an impediment to being clandestine. My nationality is equally unimportant. I have numerous names and passports—all genuine, I might add. I’m a distinguished gentleman, I speak five languages fluently and idiomatically, and my country-of-origin accent is virtually indistinguishable. My home is whatever five-star hotel room—or third-world hut—I might be staying in at the moment. I have no friends, unless you include the smiling faces of maître d’s at the Michelin star-rated restaurants I frequent. I’m sure my tailors in Milan and New York would claim to be my friends; given the money I’ve spent with them over the years. My “significant others” consist of a series of exotic women living around the globe whom I might see a few times per year, if that. I am, as you can see, private and alone—and I prefer it that way.
Why do I do this type of work? Simple, I’m excellent at it. It keeps me challenged. I can’t imagine holding an ordinary job. A banker? Please! A lawyer? Boring. A secret agent? Too much bureaucracy. In fact, most intelligence professionals will tell you that they sign up to be James Bond, but in truth spend more time behind a desk than Miss Moneypenny. In my world, I’m utterly free of the constraints that have been placed upon the masses—even the covert masses. Yet my existence, unpleasant as it might be to contemplate, is inevitable. I’m nothing new. People like me have operated through the centuries. You could even say we’re necessary for society’s evolution.
Please don’t misunderstand me, however. I’m no Machiavelli. The 16th-century political realist and author of The Prince was more about his own personal notoriety and ascension up society’s ladder—though there’s no denying that some of Machiavelli’s beliefs about elections are as prophetic today as they were 500 years ago. My favorite quote of his:
“Men are so naïve, and so much dominated by immediate needs, that a skilful [sic] deceiver always finds plenty of people who let themselves be deceived.”
In other words, as my father used to say, “The masses are asses.”
I’m not a political campaign manager, either. Those guys are nothing more than modern-day charlatans. Instead, think of me as Telemus, the character from Greek mythology—the tiny man in Homer’s Odyssey who whispered instructions into the ear of the mighty Cyclops, after Cyclops was blinded. I, too, whisper advice into the most misunderstood and challenged world leaders.
At this point you might be thinking I’m full of it. I must be some delusional fool living in a world of fanciful storytelling. My friend, that’s exactly what I want you and everyone else to believe. But the truth is, men like me do exist, though most people can’t even comprehend our role in society. The sheltered lives and insistent denial of the masses allow me to operate in plain sight. Despite 24-7 news coverage that depicts in living color how the world is literally burning, the average person remains oblivious about how such events come to pass. Most people naively assume that random chance or coincidence sets the wheels of global policy in motion.
I profit handsomely from this misconceptio
n.
Remember T.E. Lawrence? Yes, the legendary Lawrence of Arabia, the leader of the Arab revolt against the Turks during World War I, who was hired after the war by Winston Churchill to redraw the map of the Middle East and break up Mesopotamia into modern-day Iraq, Jordan, and Palestine at the Cairo Conference in 1921.
No, Mr. Lawrence, despite his ability to write history, was not a member of my profession. But one of his best friends, William Yale, a descendant of the founder of Yale University, was hired by Standard Oil of New York City to seek out new oil deposits in the Middle East prior to the war. Meeting T.E. Lawrence during his travels, the two quickly became close friends. Once the war began, the US Department of State hired Yale as their lone source of intelligence gathering in the region. Whatever Yale reported—and recommended—became US policy. Being so close to Lawrence made his influence at the time of the first Great War immeasurable to the Americans. In international consulting circles, it’s believed that Yale “suggested” to Lawrence where various boundaries should be drawn—and where certain oil might deposits lie. Later, as an expert on Middle East affairs, Yale became US President Woodrow Wilson’s personal “adviser” for international relations in the region. But despite his contributions for altering US decision-making in the Middle East, he was never a government employee but rather just a paid international consultant with immense sway.
I share that bit of history as an example of how power and influence really work. It’s not at the ballot box. Say what you will about conspiracy theories, but know this—they provide men like me with excellent cover from the truth. Take, for example, another famous incident involving an international consultant—“Operation Ajax” in Iran. Most history books will tell you that CIA Senior Operations Officer Kermit Roosevelt, Jr., grandson of US President Theodore Roosevelt, was responsible for overthrowing the Iranian Prime Minister Mohammed Mosaddegh in 1953. In fact, both the CIA and British intelligence service MI6 planned “Operation Ajax” after Mosaddegh nationalized the highly profitable Anglo-Iranian Oil Company (AIOC), which would later go on to become British Petroleum (BP). Most people fail to remember that the first attempt to overthrow Mosaddegh, and directing the Shah (King) of Iran Mohammed Reza Pahlavi to replace him with an appointed general who was friendly to US and British interests failed miserably.
