Counterfeit Lies

by Oliver North

  “Stop!” said Jake, holding up his hand. “I’m not interested in what he had for breakfast. Just let me know if we figure out who the guy was.”

  “Got it.” Trey continued, “Listen, it will come as no shock to you but you didn’t make any new friends last night with the ASAC.”

  Jake leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, like I’m inviting him over for Monday Night Football. Do they study to be that stupid or is it genetic? The guy’s an idiot.”

  Trey took another sip of his coffee, then said cautiously, knowing the messenger might get caught in the cross fire, “He wants to send you back to Quantico for an emergency psych assessment.”

  Jake laughed derisively. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Trey shook his head. “I’m serious. He told Rachel to set it up ASAP.”

  Every six months undercover agents are subjected to a psychological assessment designed to determine if they are on the brink of a breakdown or total collapse. The stresses are real and the testing can sometimes identify symptoms of a “breakdown” before the agent and his handler appreciate its existence. Jake had sat through far too many semiannual evaluations and somehow managed to win almost every session on the couch. He’d win this one, too, but the timing couldn’t be worse.

  Jake lowered his voice to what those who knew him best described as his “Dirty Harry” level: “This is nuts. I’m in the middle of what may be an international criminal conspiracy, a triple homicide, and a double kidnapping and he wants to yank me?”

  Trey looked around the patio, motioned for him to lean across the table, and said, “Jake, I know he’s an idiot, but he’s an ASAC idiot. You can’t just jump in a guy’s face like you did last night and expect to walk away, especially in front of witnesses. He has to take a stand; otherwise he looks weak.”

  Jake shook his head and mouthed the words as if shouting but whispered, “He is weak. I’ve seen too many like him since joining the Bureau. One more overeducated bureaucrat who hides behind the manual. Keep ’em off the streets and let the real agents do the work.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, but part of my job is to keep you on the street and away from Headquarters and shrinks, especially in a fast-moving case like this one. I’m on your side, Spider-Man, but you’re making it tough.”

  Jake lowered his head. His contempt for administrators plagued him at the most inopportune times . . . usually in the middle of an investigation. He knew Trey was right. “You got my back?”

  “You know I do. Just stay off the high ground for a day or two.”

  Jake smiled, nodded, and said, “Deal. As long as you promise not to hang your mike when we’re meeting.”

  “Works for me,” replied Trey. “Just don’t answer your phone unless it’s me or the bad guys.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Jake nodded to the waitress, who refilled their cups.

  When she left the patio, Jake took a sip and asked, “What’s really going on with the Park kidnapping? Are we behind it?”

  “Jake, you can’t really believe that?”

  I watched Hafner and the spook last night. There’s more to this than anyone is telling me. And now Hafner wants me back east for a psych eval, which will take me out of play for at least three days.”

  “You watch way too much TV. Don’t go paranoid on me. Next thing you’ll tell me is Hafner’s an agent for the Trilateral Commission and he’s really running the world from the basement of the World Bank.”

  “Is he?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Trey paused, a little too long, conspiratorial thoughts beginning to surface. “How the hell would I know? If I asked him and he told me the truth, he’d have to kill me. Then where would you be?”

  Jake held his look for a pregnant moment before a smile surfaced. “There’s a reason why it’s a secret society.”

  “You aren’t cleared for the secret handshake,” said Trey, dismissing the conspiracy theory and somewhat relieved his agent wasn’t going there, either.

  Jake turned serious. “But I am cleared. It’s my butt out there, not yours and certainly not Hafner’s. I need to be cut in on what’s really going on—in the depths where I can’t see. It is, after all, my ass that’s on the line.”

  “Jake, it’s need-to-know. I’m up for my five-year security evaluation and they’re putting everyone on the box.”

  “Take a Darvon the morning of the polygraph,” said Jake.

  “Does that work?” said Trey, surprised there might be a way to beat the polygraph exam.

  “No, but you’ll be more relaxed when they tell you you failed.”

  “Come on, Jake. Don’t ask me. Just continue to march and keep me updated as you go.”

  Jake shook his head, almost in disbelief. “Well, I need to know and I need to know yesterday.”

  Trey said nothing.

  “I can’t believe you’re siding with management,” said Jake, a comment reminiscent of the grade-school barb “You throw like a girl.”

  Street senses prevailed. Trey looked around before responding. “The Agency says Park’s a North Korean IO. They believe he has access to millions in Supernotes and will probably use them for the ransom.”

  Jake nodded. “I guess it makes sense the DPRK has intelligence officers operating in L.A. Their entire government is a criminal enterprise, so why wouldn’t someone profiting from its contraband be connected back to Pyongyang? This gets more interesting by the minute.”

  As the waitress approached and refilled their coffee cups, both men quieted until she left.

  Trey lowered his voice. “A ransom payoff in Supernotes doesn’t cost anyone anything. It just floods our economy with more bad paper. But that’s not all. It turns out NSA didn’t know it in ‘real time,’ but they picked up overhears about the kidnapping . . . before it went down—”

  “Before it went down!” interrupted Jake.

  Trey shook his head slowly. “Kidnapping is a predicated word. They couldn’t trace the calls because they were prepaid disposable phones.”

  “So we let Jenny and the little girl get kidnapped.”

  “This is way above my pay grade and yours. But it looks to me as though the folks in Washington and Hafner thought this might force Park to use the Supernotes for the ransom.”

  “I don’t believe this,” said Jake, shaking his head. “Three people were killed and we could have prevented it!”

  “It’s not that simple. Nobody thought anyone would get killed. They didn’t know the ‘who,’ the ‘where,’ or the ‘when’ of the kidnapping until after it all went down. That’s because of the incredible volume of information NSA collects. It’s like trying to get a spoonful of water while standing under Niagara Falls.

  “Everything I just told you apparently became evident in the past twenty-four hours. If we warned Park about the kidnapping, he would know we were on to him. This whole North Korean issue is important.”

  “More important than a life?”

  Trey didn’t hesitate with an answer. “Yeah, Jake. Even innocent people get caught in the cross fire, but maybe preventing North Korea from playing a key role in a nuclear holocaust is more important than some Asian gangbangers getting clipped.”

  Jake calmed. He didn’t want to get into a moral-equivalency argument with Trey since he knew firsthand what it was like to put other people’s lives on the line. He had to do that in combat as a Marine—and nobody has pleasant memories of those times.

  “So whose phones did we pick up on Park’s wiretap?”

  “That’s the other thing. It wasn’t on our warrant for Park. It was a call from Lebanon to a ‘throwaway’ cell phone in L.A.”

  “What?”

  “It was a short call, but NSA is certain the conversation was about the Park kidnapping.”

  Jake rubbed his eyes, trying to sort out all he was hearing. “How are we playing the kidnapping?”

  “Again, we’re in a box. Park never reported it and if we
go to him he’ll know either we’ve got the house wired or we have someone on the inside. From where I stand that someone looks like the gringo sitting across from me.”

  “But we have to do something. Trey, we can’t let this little girl and the daughter get killed. They really are the innocents in all this.”

  “I know. We talked about it last night after you left. Rachel thinks you should try to convince Park to call us but is leaving the final decision up to you. For some reason she trusts your judgment,” said Trey with a slight smile.

  “I was just getting ready to say how much I really think she is a great supervisor with tremendous instincts.”

  “Don’t let your ego get in the way of the investigation,” said Trey, still smiling.

  Jake shook his head after taking a sip of coffee. “I don’t think trying to convince Park to call the Bureau is the right move. If we bet wrong, I’m out. I think the better road is to stay close, within his wingspan, and be available for him.”

  “You might be right.”

  “I hope I am.”

  “I hope we are,” said Trey, who took a final sip of his coffee. “I don’t want any of this to come back to bite you or me.”

  “We’re okay. Thanks for cutting me in. We’re going to get this done, but I may decide the front office doesn’t need to know the how or the where.”

  “Jake, one other thing: don’t go toe-to-toe with Hafner. He’s got suck at Headquarters; tread lightly or you might find yourself in Adak, working security clearances for government contractors.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  After pulling onto the freeway following the meeting with Trey, Jake punched Park’s number into his cell phone. The Korean crime kingpin answered on the first ring. “Mr. Park, it’s Jake. Have you heard anything?”

  “No, Jake. My people have been looking since last night but have found nothing.”

  “Have you spoken with Henry Yeong?”

  “I called him and he denies any involvement.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I’m not sure. We are still inquiring with his soldiers. It has to be someone with knowledge of my enterprise. We are questioning many within our special part of the Korean community.”

  He caught the full meaning of Park’s words. Most members of the large “Korean community” in Los Angeles were hardworking, law-abiding, legal immigrants who had nothing to do with the criminal underworld inhabited by the likes of Park and Yeong. Many were devout Christians and their heroes were people who made Hyundais, Kias, and LG phones, appliances, and flat-screen TVs. They didn’t admire or respect Korean criminals—but they knew enough to stay out of their way.

  Jake paused. “I met Yeong through Tommy. Do you think it would make sense for me to approach him?”

  “No. That won’t be necessary,” Park replied. “We will handle it. You have a much more valuable mission.”

  Jake paused for a second. “Yes. I understand—the container. I spoke to my friend on the border. The delivery is set for around three tomorrow. The container is being processed through Customs today and will be released tomorrow late in the morning. Do you still want it delivered to Tommy’s warehouse?”

  “Yes, Jake. Tommy ran the warehouse but I paid the bills. I have access.”

  “I will meet you then at the warehouse tomorrow unless you need me sooner.”

  “No, but thank you, Jake. I will see you tomorrow at three.”

  “Everything will be set for your delivery, sir. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do before then.”

  “I will, Jake, and thank you again. Your friendship at this time is much appreciated.”

  Jake ended the call and when he turned up the volume on the CD player Charlie Daniels came blasting through the speakers. Since he was targeting an Asian crime syndicate, “Still in Saigon” seemed appropriate.

  Jake could barely hear the ringtone above Charlie singing, “My younger brother calls me a killer and my daddy calls me a vet.”

  He fumbled to turn down the music and grab the phone. By the fourth ring Jake had the phone in hand and noted the caller ID was blocked. He flipped on the internal recording device before answering.

  “Yeah,” he said in a less than welcoming greeting.

  “Jake?”

  “Maybe, who’s this?” Still borderline nasty.

  “Jake, it’s Charles Hafner, the ASAC.” Jake almost choked. Oh, that Charles Hafner, the ASAC guy. Glad I didn’t confuse you with the other Charles Hafner. Since he assumed he was in for a lecture on late-night decorum, he debated leaving the recording device on for OPR evidentiary purposes. Or maybe he would post the conversation on the FBI’s intranet to demonstrate the officiousness of L.A.’s latest contribution to the managerial hierarchy. He took the high road and decided against it.

  “Hang on just a second. Let me shut this off. I wasn’t sure who was calling and I’m recording this.”

  “Yes, please turn it off.”

  Please. Jake sensed maybe he had the upper hand as he deactivated the recording device.

  “Okay, it’s off. What’s up?” asked Jake casually, with no hint of respect.

  “Sorry to bother you on a Sunday.”

  “It’s okay. I’m working.”

  “We may have a problem. Have you heard from Gabe Chong?”

  “No, not at all. I don’t even have his contact information. We met during the powwow at the SCIF and our only connection on the street was the meeting at Yeong’s restaurant. It made no sense for us to exchange numbers, just in case one of us lost our phone or was compromised.”

  “I understand.”

  “Why are you asking?” said Jake, wondering whether this discussion should be taking place on a cell phone, but he thought better of bringing up the issue since Hafner initiated the call.

  “Gabe is supposed to report twice a day—at nine and nine. He’s missed the last three check-ins. Wilson and his people have been unable to contact him.”

  “Has he done this before?”

  “Never.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” said Jake, appreciating the urgency in Hafner’s voice.

  “Especially in light of the Secret Service losing their local source,” said Hafner.

  “It might be related but we should be careful how much we say on the phone,” cautioned Jake.

  “You’re right,” the ASAC conceded. “Should we meet somewhere to discuss this?”

  “Have you told Trey or Rachel?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to reach out to you directly in case you had any idea on Gabe’s whereabouts. The Agency wants us to put out a BOLO on him as though he’s a person of interest in an unrelated criminal case.”

  “With his picture and bio data?” Jake asked. “That’s pretty high risk all around, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” Hafner replied. “But this is coming from Washington. There is a lot of pressure to get answers to their questions.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jake said bluntly.

  “Get what?”

  “I don’t understand why we’re pushing this case at warp speed.”

  Hafner paused a moment before responding, then said, “It’s very complicated. There are a lot of fingers in this pie. And as you said, it’s not stuff we should talk about on the phone. . . .”

  “I got that,” the undercover agent said curtly. “But under the circumstances—with people getting killed and kidnapped, I think it’s best if I minimize contact with people on our side. Can you fill in Trey and Rachel on what you know? I have a regularly scheduled meet with Trey later today and he can pass the details on to me then.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Give me a few hours to do some checking before you put out the BOLO on Gabe. I need to be careful, but I think it’s possible his disappearance may be somehow connected to Sonny’s murder and the incident at Park’s residence.”

  “Please be careful. I’m tempted to pull you out but the mission is too important. Since we hav
e our marching orders from back east, I’d hate to do anything without clearing it first with Headquarters,” said Hafner cautiously, recognizing the career-crushing impact a dead undercover agent could have on a blue-flame administrator.

  “Yeah, I’d hate to get whacked. There’s always so much paperwork after the funeral,” said Jake, knowing the mere thought would cause Hafner to pop Pepcid the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The Sunday lunch crowd at the restaurant was still an hour or so away. Candy sat at the far end of the bar eating a kimchee beef burrito, Seoul’s answer to Southern California fusion. Her iced tea, sweetened with three packets of Splenda, did little to soften her mood. Kareem was behind the bar arranging glasses, trying to coax a smile, but Candy was in no mood to dispense favors.

  “There no reason to kill Tommy,” whispered Candy in anger.

  “He fought back,” protested Kareem quietly.

  “You and Jabari broke into Park’s home while Tommy there. What did you expect him to do? Tommy worship Park and constantly seek his favor. Of course he protect him. If Tommy had fault, it was loyalty. I see that in all he do.”

  “If he had a fault it was committing a felony a day,” said Kareem under his breath so as not to incur further wrath from Candy. “We lost Jabari, too.”

  After taking another bite of the burrito, Candy sneered, “Your friend knew he taking risk when he take assignment. Besides, doesn’t this qualify him for virgins?”

  “I wish you understood,” said Kareem.

  “Understood what? You commit crime hoping to make profit. Isn’t that why most people commit crimes?”

  “I did it for the cause.”

  “Yeah, I hear you talk about mission, faith, and cause but maybe I have cause, too.”

  “I wish my cause was your cause.”