Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Swei's eyes sparkled as he straightened his back, lifted his chin, and strode up the steps to the podium. He looked out over the empty seats and could see his life's dream coming true. "My beloved countrymen, it is time for change. We have been living too long in the darkness bound by the chains of our past. Today, those chains are broken-forever.

  Together we will ..."

  "Yes, yes," the mesmerized information minister whispered.

  Tan sat in a chair and smiled. Tomorrow would truly be a new beginning. The storm they had created was over.

  When Josh heard the light tap at his door, he looked at his watch and cursed. McCoy was fifteen minutes late. He opened the door and was shocked to see McCoy, Fletcher, and the two German women, all loaded down with bottles of beer and yelling, "Surprise!"

  "Party time!" Fletcher called out, brushing past Josh.

  The women giggled as they entered with their arms around McCoy's waist.

  Josh shut the door and turned around to grab McCoy. To his surprise, he saw that his visitors' festive smiles had disappeared, and they had begun inspecting the room for bugs.

  McCoy motioned Josh closer, then whispered, "Cool it a sec while we check, then we'll talk." He inspected the radio, then tuned it to a local station playing Burmese music. He looked at the others, who shook their heads.

  "Why are you in Rangoon?" Josh hissed.

  McCoy motioned to the three people who were now sitting on the bed. "We came for the party. Hawk, meet the gang.

  Don't ask who they are-all that matters is that they're on our side. Now, tell us what's going on."

  Josh shifted his eyes to the others before looking back at McCoy with a deadpan expression. "What are you talking about? I told you all about the plan."

  Frowning, McCoy put his arm around Josh's shoulder.

  "Come on, Hawk. What's good for the good ole U S of A is what this is all about. We couldn't let you run this op on your own. You know it doesn't happen that way. Tomorrow we'll be there to make sure your end goes smoothly. Relax. The director is comfortable with your plan, so-"

  "The director?" Josh snapped. "You told him?"

  "Of course. His job is to make sure the president and the State Department aren't surprised. I didn't give him any specifics, but he knows it's going down. He has a few questions and concerns that I'm sure you'll be able to answer."

  Josh's stomach turned to lead and dropped into his testicles; he knew what was coming.

  "The first question is, What's Xu Kang's plan?" McCoy said. "And don't give me the same shit you fed me five days ago. We need to know exactly what the Sawbaw is going to do. Our ambassador is going to be at the press conference along with the ambassadors of some countries we happen to consider allies. Spill it, or you aren't going."

  "You're threatening me?" Josh asked with a warning glare.

  "Naw. Well, maybe a little. You see, we really don't need you anymore. Fletcher here could do your part. Talk to us, Hawk. We need to know."

  Josh's jaw muscles twitched, and he put on a look of distress for show. He knew McCoy was bluffing, or the agent would have hit him with a needle or drugged him already.

  Josh forced his body to relax and nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you what I know. They're hitting the government's radio and television stations, all the army bases, and the military airfields simultaneously. Then they plan to hit the Defense Ministry and take out Swei."

  "Bullshit. There's no way they can pull that off," McCoy exclaimed.

  "Believe it. They're going to do it," Josh countered.

  After exchanging glances with Fletcher, McCoy pinned Josh with his eyes. "When?"

  "As soon as Swei finishes the conference. The assault on the Defense Ministry will come after a mortar attack, so if you want to protect the ambassador, make sure he stays in the conference room."

  "Shit! Goddamn you, Hawkins. They're going to kill innocent people with a frontal assault."

  Josh lifted an eyebrow. "They have people inside. The takedown will be very quick. There should be no civilian damage as long as they all stay inside that room."

  Again McCoy looked at Fletcher, who sighed and shook his head. "The director is not gonna like this."

  "He's not going to like it?" the taller of the German reporters said. "What about us? We're all going to be in there while a war goes on outside the doom. I say abort. This is out of hand."

  "Greta, we don't have a choice on this," McCoy said harshly. He looked back at Josh. "What else?"

  "That's it."

  "You don't have a part in this, do you?"

  "Nope. I just do my thing at the conference and let them do their thing outside."

  McCoy's eyes narrowed. "You better be telling the truth.

  We're going to a lot of trouble to keep you covered on this. I've got an entire crew here, not just the people in this room. The dye job on your hair and a week-old beard is not going to keep you from being ID'ed. The director wants you to understand that if this is pulled off you don't go on the `Tonight' show to talk about Company business. You are not talking after this thing, ya understand? And, watch my lips, you are not going to be involved in an armed rebellion. No tricks, no games, just do your part at the press conference.

  You got it?"

  Josh nodded. McCoy raised his hand, extending a finger.

  "One more question. The director wants assurances this op is gonna stay nonpolitical, so the old man better not do anything stupid like try to take power himself, or appoint one of his buddies. He isn't that dumb, is he?"

  Josh shrugged. "All I know is that he plans to take out Swei. The future was not discussed. That's an honest answer, so don't waste your time coming at me from another direction on it."

  McCoy had watched Josh's eyes as he responded and had seen what he was looking for. "Okay," he said after a long pause. Then he nodded to his three assistants. "Go down to my room, and make it look good. I'll be there in a few."

  Fletcher and the women picked up the beer and walked toward the door. At the door they began laughing, then walked out into the hallway. Josh heard their raised voices even after his door had closed.

  McCoy faced Josh. "Listen very carefully. We've got the equipment to knock out the TV cameras once the ..."

  Scowling, Tan stormed into the DDSI operations center.

  The waiting operations officer grimaced and spoke quickly.

  "General, I'm sorry I had to awaken you, but--"

  "Tell me what they reported! And what you're doing about it!" Tan ordered.

  The colonel held out a report form to his irate superior.

  "Our informers at the university reported a meeting tonight, and--"

  Tan snatched the paper from the trembling man's hands.

  His face flushed as he read the words of the three informants.

  "A march? Who are the organizers? What is their intent?" he barked impatiently.

  "No leaders took charge of the meeting. The informers reported that it seemed to be spontaneous--many students spoke in support of the march. I notified all of our on-duty teams to check with the informants to confirm their reports.

  So far they have learned nothing new. Should I call the prime minister?"

  Tan reread the report and shook his head. "No, not yet. We don't have enough to justify waking him. It may be just what it looks like--a protest march. But I want all of the standby teams called in. Also, have some of these students brought in for questioning. Place the Strike battalion on alert and notify the Defense Ministry command center duty officer. Have him place the army units on alert. Tomorrow morning I want a the students. In the meantime, have the police establish barricades to block tomorrow's march."

  The colonel bowed his head and strode over to a bank of phones and three waiting captains. Tan ran his eyes over the report once again, whispering, "What are you trying to do?"

  Chapter 27.

  0830 Hours, 19 July, Martyrs' Day.

  The lead bus turned onto Aungsan Street, the single artery leadi
ng to Burma's government complex. Sitting in the second bus, Josh looked out the window as his vehicle made its turn. Like a majestic king, the People's Congress Hall sat on a rise at the head of the street, looking down the mile-long avenue lined with Burma's government buildings. Set back a hundred yards from the road, the white, four-story, prewar Congress Hall stood alone and empty. Forty-five years before, the Hall had been the most powerful building in the nation. The stately office structure was surrounded by a lovely park and a six-foot brick wall. Ten acres of parks on both sides of the road separated the Congress Hall from the rows of other government compounds that served the new generation of politicians. Like fast-food restaurants on a busy strip, the other buildings were built closer together. Only by the signs could anyone distinguish them--the ministries of Trade, Finance, Resources, Information, and Commerce.

  Halfway down the street, Josh's bus stopped at the iron gate of the Ministry of Defense compound. Squat (only two stories) and made from brick, it looked like a prison, its high walls crowned with concertina wire. Josh glanced at a third compound, which was four hundred yards farther down the road--the Ministry of Security, home of the infamous DDSI.

  Unlike the other buildings, which needed paint and repair, the As the bus rolled into the Defense compound, Josh felt the first tremor of fear begin to build within him. The fear wasn't for himself but for the assault force that would soon be in a tunnel directly below him.

  Sitting beside Josh, McCoy offered his hand. "Surprise me and don't do anything stupid." He sighed and smiled. "Good luck, Hawk."

  Josh shook his hand without speaking and took his bag out of the overhead compartment. Seconds later he stepped down from the bus and, with the other media representatives, was escorted toward the main entrance. Glancing around the compound, he noticed that the security was very low profile. Except for the two guards at the gate, not a single soldier was visible. Instead, leisure-suited men wearing sunglasses and bad-news expressions stood around in pairs trying to imitate Secret Service agents. They weren't even close. They looked and dressed like what they were-hoods-with ducktails, tight-fitting pants, and white socks. Josh counted at least five pairs before he entered the building.

  The interior of the building was like the sketch he had seen a hundred times, but bigger and in color. The huge, double-height lobby ran the entire length of the building to the rear entrance, which was identical to the front, all glass doors and a big portico. A white marble floor and teak paneled walls made the hall look something like a church.

  Josh followed the throng of reporters and television crews to tables covered with fresh fruit and pitchers of tea and coffee. The ever-smiling media officer stood behind the center table and raised his hands.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy our hospitality. The main conference room is behind me. Please get all your equipment set up now and take your seats by 9:45. Please refer to the seating charts available on the table. The prime minister's announcement will start at precisely ten. Thank you."

  Josh slung his bag over his shoulder and poured himself a cup of coffee. He strolled toward the other end of the lobby.

  On the right a wide, white marble staircase led UP to the portraits of former military leaders hanging on the paneled walls until he reached the stairs leading to the basement. Taking another sip of coffee, he glanced down. At the bottom of the steps were double doors marked by a large sign reading Military Command Center.

  He continued on to the rear entrance and noticed another security team just outside the glass doors, standing by some huge flowerpots. Turning around, he strolled back to get one more hit of caffeine. He was pouring himself a fresh cup when Fletcher and McCoy strolled up to him.

  McCoy held up one of the seating charts and nodded toward the conference room. "Shall we take a look?"

  The three men stepped inside. McCoy gestured to his left.

  "I'll be on the raised platform with the rest of the photographers and the TV crews."

  Josh ignored him and walked down the aisle toward the flower-covered stage. He walked up the stage steps to a side door, opened it, and stepped into a hallway. A security team stood a few paces away and immediately waved him back inside.

  "I'm looking for the men's room," Josh said as if desperate.

  One of the guards stepped forward. "Please go back inside.

  Rest rooms are in main lobby."

  Josh nodded thanks and retraced his steps to the conference room. He had learned what he needed. Behind the security men he had seen a landing with a staircase going down to the basement, plus another staircase leading up to the second floor. Josh felt a rush of confidence. His quick recon had confirmed everything the Burmese deserter had sketched out a week before. As far as Josh could tell, everything was exactly like he said it would be. If all went well, Swei would leave the conference room and go down into the basement, where Stephen and Xu Kang would be waiting.

  McCoy strode up and asked angrily, "Where the hell did you go?"

  Josh shrugged. "Tried to find a bathroom. Where do I sit?"

  McCoy looked at Josh suspiciously for a moment, then nodded toward the front of the room. "The first row of chairs is for the prime minister's cabinet and military chiefs. The second and third rows are for the ambassadors and visiting dignitaries. The rest of the seating is for the press. I saved you an aisle seat so I could keep an eye on you. Fletcher will sit next to you."

  "And the frauleins?" Josh asked.

  "They'll be right behind our ambassador to keep him covered. Anything I should know, Hawk-like what the fuck is going on?"

  Josh glanced at his watch. He walked back toward the lobby and said over his shoulder, "Any of you guys want fruit?"

  Outside, the two buses that had delivered the press were parked side by side in the parking lot. Behind the darkened windows of the buses, the drivers unlocked the doors of their rear bathroom compartments, which had been labeled "Out of order." Two Shan marksmen stepped out of each of the bathrooms holding sniper rifles with fat sound-suppressors attached to the barrels. The first driver opened his side window and nodded to the second driver, who raised a small radio to his lips and whispered, "Base, bus teams are in position.

  Over."

  Colonel Banta, positioned in the park behind the Congress Hall, pushed the sidebar of his radio. "Roger, wait for the order. Out."

  Stephen pulled up in a van to the gate of the Congress Hall compound. Smiling, he showed his pass to the guard. "Greetings, Sergeant. I see you too have to work on this holiday."

  The sergeant recognized Stephen and shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, we are all on duty. I haven't seen you in some time, U Kang. What happened to your face?"

  "A car accident. I am blessed to be living. Did you just come on duty?" Stephen asked casually.

  "My shift just came on an hour ago. It will be a long eight hours, U Kang, but we are blessed. The others at the Defense Ministry will be on their feet for most of their shift. You may park in the back as usual. We're shorthanded due to all the other activity, so there are only two men at the rear security desk. One will escort you to the basement and unlock the tunnel entrance."

  Stephen glanced in the rearview mirror and made sure there were no cars or people coming before lifting a silenced pistol from his lap. "If you move or speak, Sergeant, I will put a bullet in your forehead. Listen very carefully and you will live. Tell the other guard to come over and meet me.

  Now."

  Shaking, the wide-eyed sergeant slowly moved his head while keeping his eyes on the pistol and called out toward the guard shack. "Corporal Naik, come and meet a friend of mine."

  The corporal strolled out of the shack and approached the van. Stephen opened the door and leveled his pistol. "Move and you die."

  The van's rear doors burst open and two men dressed in guard uniforms jumped out and pushed the two trembling men toward the guard shack. Stephen raised a handheld radio to his lips. "Front gate secure. Out." He lowered the radio and spoke over his shoulder to
the four men left in the back of the van while he drove up the banyan-tree-lined road toward the Congress building. "There are only two guards inside. Once I'm in, give me thirty seconds before sending in backup. Team two should open the rear gate and let the assault force in from the park."

  The two team leaders acknowledged his orders with silent nods. Stephen parked in the back lot, put his pistol in his briefcase, and got out. He walked up the back steps to the huge teak doors and strolled inside to the security desk.