by Ron Walden
Greg Monday, in the Sportcoach, saw the door of the motel open and opened the door of the motorhome. Monday and Bates lifted Beth into the motorhome and closed the door. Monday climbed into the driver’s seat while Bates forced the frightened woman to the back of the vehicle. There he forced her to the bed, face down, and handcuffed her hands behind her back and taped her mouth.
Monday maintained a legal speed as the motorhome, and the car that followed, went west on highway 10. A few miles west of Phoenix they turned off the main highway and followed secondary roads through Goodyear and Buckeye. They turned south near Palo Verde, through Arlington, then about 5 miles south to a dirt road that circled west, then south through the Gila Bend Mountains.
They had gone about 25 miles along dusty dirt roads when Bates picked up the cellular telephone and dialed the DEA office. The secretary transferred the call to Dan Webster in John’s office.
“Dan Webster speaking.”
“Hello, Dan. You don’t know me, but we are about to become better acquainted. I have something you want very much. I want you to meet me out in the desert on the road to Sundad. Come alone. Rent a red Jeep; we’ll stop you when you get here,” Bates instructed. Dan motioned for John to pick up the other phone and listen.
“I don’t think I want to do that. What do you have that I want?”
“We have your wife. She stays alive as long as you do what I say. I’ll expect to see you by noon.” The line went dead.
Dan’s face went white. He held himself up with the edge of the table, and dialed the motel; there was no answer in the room. John was already holding the door by the time Dan got his wits back on line, then they bolted from the office. Going out the door, John turned to his secretary and yelled, “Get an investigative team to Dan’s motel! Now!”
Evidence of a struggle in the room was plain. Dan recognized the signs, the scuff marks in the nap of the rug, the smudges on the patio door, and the black shoe marks on the base of the front door. Neither the maid nor desk clerk had seen anyone. They had seen a large motorhome parked in front for a few minutes this morning. It was white, big, with green trim. They hadn’t seen anything strange, and they hadn’t seen Mrs. Webster.
“I don’t know the country, John; is there anything we can do?” Dan paced the floor. He really needed a drink!
John thought a moment. “I’ll get you a jeep with a radio in it, from the agency motorpool. I’ll see if Smokey Stover is available to fly over the area and try to spot them. I have to be honest with you, Dan; there’s an awful lot of desert out there. There isn’t any cover for sneaking. Even if we find them, the only concealment is the contour of the land. I’ll mark a road map for you. It’s going to be hot, but I want you to wear a vest. I’ll get you a boot gun for a backup.”
While a jeep was outfitted, John called Smokey. He agreed to try to spot the Sportscoach. Dan was fit with a bullet proof vest, John marked the road map and gave Dan a .38 Special, Smith and Wesson Airweight to carry in the holster on his ankle. Dan was as prepared as he could be on such short notice. He left the agency garage and headed for the desert.
Smokey cruised at 125 knots, 1000 feet above the desert floor. He’d stay low, over the open desert, and if he spotted the suspect vehicle, he would only fly by it and not circle. As bad as he wanted to be with Dan, John returned to the office and stood by the radio.
Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., Roger and Gwen were entering the office of Undersecretary Belafont. The office was appointed nicely, better than the average governmental office. A large mahogany desk centered the room. There was a large, high back, leather swivel chair behind the desk. Several straight back, leather seat chairs were scattered about the office. There was also a large brown couch on one wall. The government warehouse had provided large paintings for the walls. Upon entering the office, one got the feeling he had just been transported back to 1946.
The undersecretary motioned for the two to have a seat in front of the large desk. “How do you do? I am Jason Belafont.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Belafont. I’m Roger Dorfmann and this is my assistant, Ms. Stevens. We represent the FBI and would like to ask you some questions regarding your affiliation with Nels Bergstrom. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind answering your questions, but I have no ‘affiliation’ with Mr. Bergstrom. I barely know the man.”
Gwen and Roger had rehearsed their response to this lie. Gwen said. “Mister Secretary. We know about your trip to Arizona Friday. We know about your expensive taste for ‘nose candy.’ We have enough on you right now to arrest you for influence peddling and drug possession. Before we’re through, we could add terrorism and treason. Do we have your attention now Mr. Belafont?”
He looked as though he’d been stabbed. His shoulders pushed ahead—then began to droop. His lips parted as though he wanted to speak but no sound came. His face became a pale, ghostly white. He began to slump in the leather chair until he was barely visible behind the huge Mahogany desk.
“Did you hear what she said?” Roger asked.
“Yes, I heard,” Belafont squeaked.
“I don’t have a lot of time to debate issues with you,” Roger began. “I want your cooperation and I want your help in convincing the others they have no alternative but to cooperate. I need to know everything you know about Bergstrom. I want to know what part you’re playing. I want to know his involvement in the bombing of the pipeline in Alaska. I want to know what his plans are now.”
Belafont gave a big sigh.
“All right. All right, I’ll cooperate with you,” he said as he poured a glass of water and took a large drink. “I never wanted to be involved with Bergstrom in the first place. It was my…habit.”
He pushed the button on his intercom. “Miss Boucher, will you come in here a moment?”
His secretary entered with a pad in her hand. “Yes, sir?”
“Miss Boucher, call Senators Tillman, Wayman, and Frost. Tell them there is to be a meeting in my office in one half hour.”
When she closed the door behind her, he began to tell his story.
Belafont related his tale of drug use to the two FBI agents. He told them how he had been introduced to “recreational use” of cocaine at a party for government officials and representatives of the natural gas industry. A few of the younger people there were tooting some cocaine and invited Belafont to join them. He had been drinking and his judgment was less than perfect. With some encouragement from one of the female guests, he tried the white powder. It was wonderful. He had never experienced such a sensation. He was instantly hooked. For almost two years now, he had never experienced the original sensation again. Now he needed the stuff to maintain his daily routine. He could not work without it.
Bergstrom supplied the cocaine for that first party and had been supplying it for him since. His habit had not cost him anything. He admitted that he was suffering some tinges of paranoia but had discharged his governmental duties faithfully. This was the first time Bergstrom had made any demands on him in return for the drugs he had supplied. Belafont was crying now. He had not wanted to make concessions to Bergstrom, but it was either that or lose his job. The promise of the availability of more drugs was not a bribe but a benefit derived from his association with Bergstrom.
Bergstrom had personally given Belafont packets of cocaine on several occasions and supplied the drug for parties on others. Belafont said he would get help for his addiction and that he would testify against Bergstrom in court, for drug trafficking. Belafont was sorry and now wanted to help if he could.
The three senators took seats on the couch after the introductions. Tillman and Wayman were very nervous. All three men had hidden secrets that would interest the FBI, but had no idea for which transgression they were now being investigated.
Gwen was the one to break the news to the Senators. “Gentlemen, we represent the combined investigations of the FBI, the DEA, and the CIA. I will not go into individual charges, but I will say we have enou
gh on each of you to get you convicted of several felony charges. We don’t have a lot of time to spend here and are asking for your cooperation. You know we can’t make any deals with you, but we can make recommendations for leniency, and we can tell the judges that you willingly cooperated in the investigation.”
Senator Frost looked at the others; then he spoke, “I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about.”
“Senator!” Roger raised his voice as he stood up and faced the men. “I don’t have time for your political posturing. We have a situation in which many people may die. There has already been an attempt to destroy the Alaska pipeline terminal with a nuclear weapon. Had that been successful, hundreds of people would have died. Each of you was elected to an office responsible for protecting the citizens of the United States of America. You have each forsaken the duties of your office to form allegiance with a lunatic. He would destroy the political system of this country by corrupting its elected leaders. He would destroy the strong monetary base of the country and in turn, the world. He would destroy the lives of the citizens you have each been elected to protect.
“I’m sworn to protect the citizens of the United States, too. I’m offering you a way out of your situation and giving you an opportunity to redeem yourselves by doing what you were elected you to do. Don’t waste my time, gentlemen. I need your help and in return can, possibly, give you a way to save some self respect. Are you going to cooperate?”
“Can you give us a minute to discuss it?” Tillman asked.
“Yes, but only a minute.” Roger said. He motioned to Gwen and the two left the office. He asked the secretary in the outer office for a cup of coffee.
Gwen was just finishing a diet 7-UP when the secretary came to the small break room and told them the senators wanted them to return. Gwen held up her right hand with her fingers crossed and winked at Roger.
Back in the office the senators looked solemn. “What do you want us to do?” Tillman asked.
“The four of you know, better then we do, what you’ve done to ensure Bergstrom’s power. Each of you knows what strings you pulled to allow him to manipulate the price of oil. It will be up to you to sabotage that power base. Time is short. The economy of the country will be ruined in only a few days if we cannot restore stability to the previously agreed oil prices.” Gwen commented, “Think of what the present situation will do to the U.S. Dollar. Think of the people who have died in Bergstrom’s quest for power. You must go to congress today and do what the people of this country elected you to do: protect them from Nels Bergstrom.”
Roger added to her statement, “You must go to the Congress and reverse the stand you have taken. You have to use your influence to convince your colleagues regulations are needed to control prices and return the flow of oil to normal. You have to destroy Bergstrom’s power. The President has protested the actions of the oil producing countries. You will have to put teeth in his decisions. Let me warn you one more time. This is the only chance you have to come out of this with any self respect. You must begin the campaign today.”
Senator Frost spoke meekly, “We know what we have to do. It will take a few hours to formulate a plan and to align enough power factions to accomplish what you ask. You must know that Nels will not allow this to happen without a fight, we are in jeopardy once this thing gets rolling.”
“I didn’t say there weren’t risks. We have people working in Arizona. We’ll assign people to protect you. If you hear from Bergstrom, contact my office here in Washington. Are there any questions?” Roger asked.
“No questions. We should have something going by morning,” Tillman said. “And, please, don’t judge us too harshly. We didn’t get to be this way overnight. We have been drawn in a little at a time until it was too late to turn back.”
“We’re not here to make judgments,” Gwen said. “You can do your explaining to the American public. Right now we are in a race against time to stop Bergstrom and his associates from destroying the economic, political, and industrial strengths of the world.”
Smokey called the DEA office from the hangar when he landed back at Sky Harbor. “John. I just landed at Sky Harbor. I found the motorhome about five miles north of Sundad”
“Dave Vrobec and Larry Felson are here. Dave had four agents follow Dan. They have contact with him on the radio. They are about 15 minutes behind him. Anything in our favor?”
“I think so. How do you feel about flying out there with me? I think I can land within half a mile without being seen. I have the location marked on a map that we can drop to those agents. I saw another car with two guys standing by it about a mile away from the motor home. I think I can land the Husky on a sand blow, in a canyon not far from them. We might use the low sides of the wash to sneak up on the two in the car. Then if Dan can keep the men in the motorhome distracted long enough, we might just use the car to drive right to the motorhome.”
“Get the plane ready. I’ll be there in less than 20 minutes.”
John had given the whole story to Dave and Larry on the way to the airport. Dan was informed by radio, and the four agents following him would be watching for the small airplane.
DEA owned a large number of the small two seat Christen Husky aircraft, manufactured by a company now owned by Aviat. They are an extremely efficient aircraft for short field, low altitude, slow speed surveillance. The 180 horsepower Lycoming engine and constant speed propeller gave it amazing performance characteristics. It is small though, with two seats arranged in tandem, putting the passenger seat directly behind the pilot.
With John Sutter strapped into the back seat, Smokey taxied to the nearest runway, pointed the nose into the slight breeze and was off the ground in less than 800 feet. Smokey took a direct route to the desert, cruising above the low hills at 120 miles per hour. It was not long before he intersected the dirt road to Sundad and turned south. Almost immediately they spotted the car carrying the four FBI agents. Smokey passed low over the car, slowed the aircraft, and settled onto the road ahead of it.
One of the agents stepped out of the car and jogged to the left side of the plane. He stepped under the left wing as Smokey slid the window open. Smokey held the brakes to keep the plane from moving. He held the folded map up for the agent to see. He pointed to a spot marked on the map and explained that this was the side road where he had seen the motorhome.
As the agent stepped out from under the wing, Smokey moved the throttle ahead and released the brakes. The plane rolled a short distance and was airborne again. It was now only about 5 minutes to the spot Smokey had picked for a landing site.
“Better tighten you seat belt and shoulder harness,” Smokey said. “This landing’ll be a little rough.”
He was flying low to keep the hills between the airplane and the guards. He throttled back and flew directly at a low ridge of sandstone. John watched as they approached the ridge; he was certain the wheels were going to hit. As soon as they cleared, Smokey made a sharp right bank, cut the power and shoved the nose into a small canyon just wide enough for the wings of the little fabric covered airplane. As they settled deeper into the wash, the pilot leveled the nose and slowed the aircraft. There was a small turn in the canyon, and once around it John saw a flat area of sand that looked too small for a landing. Smokey pulled on the final notch of flaps, let the plane settle to the ground, and stopped after one gentle bounce in less than 150 feet of soft sand.
They crawled out of the plane and stretched. Each man checked his weapon to be certain there was a live round under the hammer. Then they walked toward the road. The small canyon emptied into the open where the two guards had parked the car. The two officers were within 20 yards of the car and could see the two men inside laughing and talking. They bent low to the ground and made it to the rear bumper of the car without being detected.
John was on the driver side and whispered to Smokey, “Go, Now.”
The parked car’s engine was left running to keep the air conditioning work
ing to fend off the desert heat. Noise from the engine hiding their approach, John and Smokey stood upright and stepped to the side windows on each side of the car, their weapons pointed through the glass at the occupants. The two guards stared out their respective windows in total surprise.
“Step out of the car,” John said. “We’re Federal officers. You’re under arrest.”
The two men opened the doors of the car and stood. “What are you arresting us for? We were just sitting here enjoying the sunshine. You can’t arrest a man for that,” The driver said.
“We’ll call it kidnaping unless we can come up with something else,” John told him.
“I have some handcuffs.” Smokey said. Just then they heard the noise of the Jeep coming down the road. When the handcuffs were on the two guards, Smokey left to retrieve some rope.
John stepped into the open and waved to Dan. The Jeep came to a stop in a cloud of dust.
“We got the two guards, Dan.”
“Did Smokey see my wife when he flew over?”
“No. He said he couldn’t see anyone at the motorhome. He doesn’t know how many there are either. Drive the jeep there and Smokey and I will drive the guard’s car to cover you.”
“They’re messing with my family. I have to get Beth out of this. It’s getting difficult for me to keep my eye on the big picture. I hate these guys for what they’ve done to me and my family.” Dan’s frustration was showing through again.
“You’re going to have to get a grip on your feelings, Dan. If we blow this thing, Beth is going to get hurt. Save the hate for later. Right now we have a job to do,” John counseled.
“You’re right, John, and I’m trying. But it isn’t easy,” Dan said.
The two guards were secured to a large sandstone boulder, shaded by greasewood. Dan returned to the Jeep. John and Smokey were in the Dodge, previously owned by the guards. The Jeep bumped slowly down the dusty road with the dark sedan following. It took only 3 or 4 minutes to reach big white and green Sportscoach.
