Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Your clothes aren't tailored, so you wouldn't care about fine lines or detail. You're definitely not a cruiser type, so it would have to be a sailboat. Older, I think--you'd like the security and reassurance of something that was made when things weren't mass-produced." She looked out the window, her eyes searching down the slips, assessing each craft. "I would say it has to be one of the two older motor sailers moored at the last pier," she said, pointing at his boat and its neighbor.

  Josh could tell when he was being set up--there were at least three or four other motor sailers older than his moored in the marina. He smiled and pointed at a sleek fifty-foot cruiser moored in the slip right in front of them. "Sorry.

  You'd better not quit your day job. That's her--Sweet Thong."

  She shrugged and sighed, acknowledging that he had seen through her. She lifted her purse, took out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to him. "I'm sorry too, Colonel. Since you wouldn't talk to the team, my boss sent me to ensure you got this. You have been recalled to active duty by order of the president of the United States. The order in your hand is effective immediately. Tomorrow a staff car will pick you up in front of the Channel Inn at zero eight hundred."

  Josh crunched the orders into a ball and turned to look out the window at the channel. The woman stepped closer and joined him in watching a cruiser glide by with all its lights ablaze. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Grant, and it wasn't a complete lie. I do have a friend who works at Phillips Flagship, and she did talk about you. Yes, I fudged on the boat--I read your file and talked to the team that was sent out to make contact. If it's any consolation, I didn't volunteer for this job.

  Since I live nearby they asked me to deliver your orders."

  Josh continued to stare out over the water and spoke as if he felt sorry for her. "You were used, Grant. They use everybody." He squared his shoulders and walked away without looking back.

  Chapter 11.

  0840 Hours, 7 June.

  It hasn't changed, Josh thought as he walked down the A wing corridor off the Pentagon. It was still drab despite the new paint and woodwork. The Pentagon was like a forty year-old whore trying to change her ways; the makeup and clothes couldn't conceal what she was. The escort officer directed him into an office and then into a small conference room. He recognized Colonel Grant from the night before, even though she was now in uniform, but he didn't know the others seated at the table.

  A too-young and too-good-looking brigadier general motioned to a chair and said, "Please, Colonel Hawkins, sit down and let's get acquainted."

  As he sat, Josh heard the door shut behind him and knew it was going to be a while.

  The one-star picked up a folder and began reading aloud.

  "Let's see, you lived in Burma and went to missionary school until the age of eighteen. Your parents moved to Malaysia, where they established another mission, and you were sent back to the States and attended the University of Virginia. You joined ROTC shortly after your family was tragically killed in a plane crash. Upon graduation you were commissioned and went straight into Infantry Officer Basic course at Fort Benning, Georgia, followed by Airborne and Ranger training. In 1971 you were sent to Vietnam, where you earned two Silver Stars and two Bronze Stars as a platoon leader. You were wounded in your eighth month and sent to Japan to convalesce. Once released, you volunteered for duty at the embassy in Burma. You married another American there and after two years returned to the States and went into the Special Forces, had various stateside assignments, and attended a variety of military schools. In '83 you were assigned back to Burma because of your unique qualifications. You stayed two years, until you had a little trouble and their government asked that you be removed from the country. Then more stateside assignments plus the business in Grenada and later in Panama, and you were involved in operations in Colombia for a few months. You were assigned to the Pentagon from '89 to '91, when you asked to be retired.

  Does that pretty much sum up your past history, Colonel?"

  Josh ignored the question and asked the colonel seated next to him, "Any chance I can get a cup of coffee?"

  The general's brow furrowed, and he snapped, "Colonel Hawkins, this is just a get-acquainted session. Don't get offensive-we may all be working together."

  Josh leaned back in his chair, shifting his eyes to the other four officers seated around the table. "Is anybody going to explain why I'm here?"

  The officers' eyes all went to the scowling general, who said, "Hawkins, you'll address your questions to me. This is just a preliminary session to get an update on what you've been doing since you retired. Later you'll be meeting with those who will discuss why you were asked back to active duty."

  Josh turned, and his stare burned holes through the general's forehead. "I wasn't 'asked' to come here. I didn't 'ask' to be retired in 1991 either. You people ordered me here just like you ordered me to retire. If you want to be my buddy, General, start by telling me why I'm here."

  The general met Josh's glare for only an instant before lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry, we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Gus Faraday, and the officers in this room work for me in the Southeast Asia branch over at Bolling. We brought you here to the Pentagon because we thought you might feel more comfortable. Plus, it's closer to the State Department, where you're going to be meeting with some very important people in our government in an hour. We just wanted to talk to you first and update your file."

  Josh again looked at the colonel beside him. "I still need that coffee."

  Faraday approved with a nod, and the colonel got up and left the room. Josh leaned back in his chair and seemed to deflate. "What do you want to know?"

  "Begin with why you were retired and what you've done since," Faraday said in a measured tone.

  Josh sighed first and looked up. "In 1989 I was assigned to the Department of Defense's Drug Task Force here at the Pentagon. As a part of my training, they sent me downtown to work with the D. C. Metropolitan Police Department to learn the basics. I worked for six months with the Narcotics and Special Investigations Division and learned a lot. Too much. After working on the streets I could see that our so-called war on drugs was a joke, and I told my military bosses that. Let's see, that was in 1990. I wrote papers and even talked to congressmen. I made waves to try and change things so that we could really be effective. Nobody listened except my bosses, who thought I was disloyal and insubordinate. In January of '91, I was told I wasn't a team player and that I should retire for the good of the service. I sold my house and moved to my boat in the marina. I'd made some contacts with the local police while on the Drug Task Force, and one of them, a good friend, suggested I start a security service for the Waterfront. He knew they needed help, made the intros, and helped me get the company started. I've been doing the job ever since. End of story."

  "Any foreign travel?" Faraday asked, knowing the colonel had left out some important details concerning his wife.

  Josh shook his head.

  Faraday picked up a piece of paper. "This is a copy of your financial report. Could you explain the rather substantial amount of funds you've acquired since your retirement?"

  Josh's jaw muscles rippled up his cheekbones. Faraday saw the reaction and raised his hand. "I'm sorry, I know I'm asking a lot, but it will save time. We can get the information from the IRS, but it would take us a week."

  Josh took a breath and let it out slowly before speaking.

  "My wife was a CPA and made a good salary. She knew taxes inside and out and used a universal life insurance policy as a tax shelter. When she ... when Jill passed away ..."

  Seeing Josh struggle, Faraday nodded and said, "Thank you, that explains the large account you have in trust for your daughter. I see you have two other accounts. One is for your business and the other is a personal account, correct?"

  Josh nodded in silence.

  Faraday set the financial report aside and motioned to the female officer at the end of the table. "Colonel Hawkins, Lieutenant Colone
l Grant has some questions for you. She's assigned to the Burma desk in our branch and is working on the Drug Task Force panel for the DIA. I've assigned her to be your escort officer. Because of your experience in Burma and your time on the Drug Task Force, we thought it might benefit you both."

  Grant opened a folder in front on her. "Colonel Hawkins, do you presently have any Burmese friends living in Burma?"

  Josh glanced at the silver bracelet on his wrist before answering. "Yes, I have a very good friend who I grew up with.

  He's half Chinese and half Shan, but you could classify him as a Burmese. He loves his country."

  "What's his name and profession, sir?"

  "Stephen, Stephen Kang. The last time I saw him was in 1985, the day I was ordered by the Burmese government to leave the country. I haven't seen him since, although we still write each other now and then. He is the deputy minister of finance for the country."

  Grant made some notes and looked up. "Your file doesn't indicate the reason you were asked to leave Burma in '85. It just states you and another member of the Defense attache staff were asked to leave by Burma's government. What was the reason?"

  Josh's jaw tightened again. "I can't discuss it. You're going to have to ask the Strategic Reconnaissance Office for the file. If they release it to you, then I'll talk about it."

  Grant exchanged glances with General Faraday, who nodded and spoke kindly. "I have the file, Colonel. I know you and another member of the attache staff conducted an unsanctioned reconnaissance of northern Burma, and that you made contact with several rebel leaders. Your reports were quite detailed. The only thing that is not mentioned is how their government found out you conducted the recon."

  Josh placed his hands in his lap and ran his fingers over the bracelet. "My friend Stephen Kang ... he told them."

  General Faraday leaned forward in his chair. "But why would a friend turn-"

  "Because he loved his country more," Josh said in a low voice. He lowered his head, remembering that day.

  Grant closed her folder and spoke softly. "One last question, Colonel. When was the last time you saw Sergeant Major Dan Crow?"

  Josh raised his chin and couldn't help but smile. "Hondo a sergeant major? No way; you got him mixed up with somebody else."

  Grant smiled for the first time during the meeting. "According to the file, he accompanied you on the recon of northern Burma and was also forced to leave the country. He made sergeant major in 1990 and retired in '93. When did you see him last?"

  Josh shook his head and smiled reflectively. "I'll be damned, that ole bastard beat the system.... I saw Hondo last during the action in Grenada. My Special Forces team linked up with a Delta Force detachment to secure the students. He was a master sergeant then, working as the detachment leader. Where the hell is he now?"

  Grant motioned to the door. "He should be waiting outside. He's our other candidate."

  Josh's eyes widened, and he began to push back his chair.

  Just then, the door opened and the colonel who had been sent to get the coffee entered with a frown and empty hands. He motioned over his shoulder. "Sorry, but-"

  "I want some goddamned answers! Who the hell is in charge?" a voice bellowed. A second later, a balding man wearing a sport jacket two sizes too big and a clip-on tie walked into the room. "Is this the place I get the damn answers?" he demanded.

  Josh stood up and said, "You always did know how to make an entrance, Hondo."

  The small, wiry man halted in his tracks. His eyes widened in recognition and his mouth dropped open in surprise. A moment passed before he yelled, "Hawk! You son of a bitch, ain't nobody called me Hondo in years."

  The two men embraced. Then Josh pushed his friend away but held his shoulders. "Ya look like shit. You must not be getting any zu."

  "Aw, hell, Hawk, the old lady made me swear off the booze a week after I retired. Ain't that a pisser? I'd been plannin' my retirement for years--sittin' back on the lake drinkin' zu and dyin' happy--but she ruined it for me. How 'bout you, is Jill still keepin' ya straight?"

  Josh's smile dissolved. He put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "She died, Hondo. It was four years ago next week.

  She went in for a normal checkup and they found a tumor.

  She was gone a month later."

  "Shit, Hawk, I'm sorry. I loved that gal."

  The general cleared his throat to get their attention. "Gentlemen, we'll take a break for ten minutes so you two can get caught up." The officers all left except for Grant, who stayed in her seat.

  She met Josh's stare and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I have to stay. I'm your escort. Just pretend I'm not here."

  Crow grabbed Josh's arm, walked him to a corner of the room, and whispered, "What the hell is going on? I was fishin' yesterday afternoon when two MP officers show up outta nowhere and tell me I gotta go with them. Jesus, you shoulda heard my ole lady when I showed her the orders.

  They gave me all of ten minutes to pack, then drove me to San Antonio and put me on a plane with a major for an escort"

  Josh leaned closer. "I think it's got something to do with Zuland. These people are all from the DIA's Southeast Asia branch. After that bombing, I'd bet we're being brought in to advise and consult with the big boys."

  Crow's drawn face brightened. "Shiiit, that ain't bad. Hell, with the money I make from this consulting stuff, I'll be able to build on that addition I wanted on my cabin. Hey, tell me about Stefne. How is she? I bet she's all grown up, huh?"

  Josh reached for his wallet. "Wait till you see her picture.

  She's ..."

  Grant led the two men through the main entrance of the State Department. Two Ivy League types met them and motioned them toward an elevator. Crow looked at all the national flags of the world hanging in the huge glass lobby and poked Josh in the ribs. "I've had a beer and a piece of ass in almost every country they got a flag for. I think I'll pick me up a miniature set for the cabin to help me remember when I'm too old to think about poontang."

  Josh stepped into the elevator and whispered to his friend, "You caught every strain of clap, too."

  Grant looked away to hide her smile--despite their whispering, she'd heard the conversation.

  Two minutes later Josh and Crow exchanged confident looks and walked through the just-opened doom of a VIP conference room.

  Josh sipped coffee from real china as the men seated at the table were introduced. He was impressed; he had heard all the names before and had even seen the CIA director on the television news a few times. He glanced at Crow, seated beside him. The old soldier was sketching on a notepad. The drawing looked like the beginnings of an addition to a cabin.

  Director Jennings sat down and leaned back in his chair.

  "Our country is in a dilemma. We need information, and you two men have knowledge of Burma that we desperately need.

  This committee is asking for your help. I'm going to have my assistant explain what has happened and bring you up to date on the current situation. When he's finished, I'll explain what services we need from you."

  Two minutes into the briefing, Josh's face had turned to stone. At the conclusion ten minutes later, he felt as if he were going to explode.

  Jennings shifted his eyes to the two men. "As you've just heard, we have serious problems and need answers. This committee needs your help."

  Josh couldn't take it anymore and snarled, "He didn't brief the truth."

  Taken aback by the unexpected response, Jennings uncharacteristically stammered. "Wha ... what are you talking about?"

  Josh pointed at the briefer. "He conveniently left out the fact that your agency provided the rebels with guns and advisers to fight the government. He didn't mention that the United States condoned the growing of poppies so the rebels could make money from the opium to hire mountain tribesmen to fight the Burmese government. You, Mr. Director, you and the DIA and the State Department are partly the reason our country is having this problem."

  Jennings glar
ed back. "We helped the rebels in the sixties, Colonel Hawkins. We did what was necessary then to stop communism. The situation we face now is different."

  "Bullshit," Josh retorted. "I saw weapons your agency provided for the rebels in '73. You established base camps and hired mercenaries for cross-border ops into China. I saw the whole thing."

  General Summer had become red-faced. He stabbed his finger across the table. "You're out of line, Hawkins! Don't bring that up again."

  Josh looked at the other members of the committee and shook his head in disgust. "In '72 soldiers in Vietnam were buying dope being brought into Saigon from Burma. You people knew it, but you looked the other way. You helped the rebels, who you knew were trafficking, and now you people are upset because their government is involved?"

  Jennings slapped the table. "They killed our people! They can't do that and get away with it. Our policies of the past were based on the threat to this nation. I wish to God we had done things differently, but we didn't."