by T C Miller
“Now I know I’m dreaming…” Tears began flowing, She
took a tissue from Nora and paused to compose herself. “What
did I do to deserve this?”
“I trust the two people you’re sitting with and they tell me
you seem like a sincere person with a good heart…That’s all I
need to know.”
“Thank you, so much.” She hugged Nora and then Bart.
“Don’t know where you came from…But right when I needed
an angel most, I got two.”
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION NORTHERN CALIFORNIA “Work harder, you lazy bunch of fatherless ingrates…Get everything loaded into the new vehicles so we can get moving.” Gregori exhorted his men to work harder, despite their weariness after an arduous drive along back-roads and through small towns in Northern California. It was well past midnight at a twenty-four hour public storage near Auburn, California. They worked feverishly to transfer equipment and personnel.
The vehicles Rick stashed there months ago would serve them well during their escape. The larger of the two was an old school bus that had been converted into a primitive hunting lodge. A toilet and shower meant they had no need for hotel rooms on the trip. A rudimentary kitchen allowed them to prepare meals, so restaurants were unnecessary. The fewer stops they made the better, since there was less chance of being noticed and remembered.
The twenty-foot trailer behind it held two all-terrain vehicles and cargo that was covered by a tarp. The original engine in the bus had been replaced with a supercharged version that could out run most sedans.
The other vehicle was a custom four-wheel drive double-cab pickup truck that was jacked-up on its suspension and equipped with oversized wheels and tires.
Both had extra gas tanks installed that gave them an eight-hundred mile range with one fill-up. Hidden compartments concealed weapons, ammunition, explosives and safes that held over eight million dollars in US currency.
The most valuable items, however, were the two nuclear devices safely ensconced in the back of the school bus. Two of the men guarded them twenty-four hours a day in rotating shifts.
Rick Eichner left the cab of the pickup truck and walked over to Peters. “My friend,” he said in Russian. “I have just talked with my contact…He says the Americans have no clue to our location.”
“Good news indeed…By the time they have discovered we were here, we will be far away.”
“True, but perhaps we should go to a campground and let everyone sleep, yes?”
“Is not necessary…My men are trained to stay awake for days to accomplish mission.”
“Yes, but weariness leads to mistakes and we can tolerate none in our operation.”
“Our operation? I am boss…We continue journey.”
“Is not prudent…To do so might jeopardize mission.”
“Your mission is second to mine and must be. I was hoping it would not come to pass, but I must…how do Americans say…pull rank on you…Yes, that is it…You must recognize who is leader.”
“My old friend…I do not wish to see you embarrass yourself in front of your men…Please stop to consider your words carefully…I pay for yourparticipation…I am boss.”
Gregori lowered his voice and moved closer, hovering over him like a mountain. “Have you not heard what I said? Your escape is only part of my plan…Bigger concern is relocation of operation and start of new mission.”
“Then we are in agreement…There is new information for you…I will allow representative of Commission to tell you.” He handed Gregori the satellite phone. “Push green button when you are ready.”
He moved a discreet distance away and waited for the explosion of indignant rage that was sure to come… ***
EPILOGUE
National Security Agency Central Security Service Washington, DC
From: J.B. Banner, Assoc. Director, National Security Agency To: Senator James Lankford
Russell Senate Office Building
Room 172
Washington, DC
July 14, 1989
Transmit by Authorized Courier Only Hand-deliver To Recipient Only
EXCERPTS FROM NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY FOLLOW-ON REPORT: Extracted From: NSA-1989.11.16834.
Security Classification:Top Secret, Level 7, Executive Order 12656.7.4, Subsection 3.2.14
Requesting Agency: US Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee, Chairman James Lankford, (R) Okla.
Author:J.A. Banner, Director, West Coast Regional Office, National Security Agency
Release Authority:18 U.S. Code § 798, Subsection (c). Dissemination: Courier only—Electronic transmission not authorized without express permission of the Director, National Security Agency. No use of US Postal service or third party contractors permitted, under penalty of law.
OVERVIEW This document refers to NSA-1989.10.15423, as well as NSA-1989.10.15319. The intent is to maintain continuity with ongoing operations related to Project . It discusses ramifications for national security relating to the pursuit of hostile force(s) operating within and outside the borders of the US. This record is provided to the committee to conform to requirements of Foreign Intelligence Directive 6309.134, Subsection 11A, relating to Funding For Special Operations Entities Within Existing Intelligence Services.
From:NSA-1989.10.15423 “ …explosion and destruction of buildings after a complement of NSA Security personnel were deployed to the multi-structure site known as The Cannery on. Subsequent to the ignition of buildings, explosive devices were discovered, with insufficient time to defuse the devices…Team Leader ordered all on-site team members to fall back to the mobile command post. Local fire protection services from , and, were notified. Fire(s) were extinguished after seven hours had elapsed.
All buildings and wharf reported as a total loss…Fishing trawlerwhich was moored to the wharf was destroyed by fire and sunk…NSA authorized salvage operation underway to recover evidence…Investigation ongoing… Perpetrators have not been identified…Possible suspects include andInsufficient evidence to detain or charge…File open—Ongoing investigation.”
From:NSA-1989.10.15437 “During the forensic examination of accounts of social/fraternal organization known asefforts failed to satisfactorily trace funds in the amount of million dollars, believed to have been transferred to offshore accounts—then transferred to untraceable foreign accounts…Identification of destination accounts unlikely…Account balances in local banks in the amount of $23,345.00 were located.
subsequently authorized remaining funds to be transferred to successors in office ofsocial/fraternal organization… Forensic examination of accounts incomplete… Unable to question person(s) in charge of accounts at time of illegal transfers…fugitive(s) from justice. No resolution possible.”
From:NSA-1989.10.15319 Investigators from Project , and Ops Group are currently in pursuit of Russian smuggling ring, as well as, aka, known to be a foreign intelligence asset involved in incident at the Casino in South Shore, Nevada, incident code-named …Said operatives believed to be in unauthorized possession of classified materiel.* Enemy operatives also suspected to be in possession of funds in excess ofdollars…with access to untraceable accounts in excess of
dollars…investigation ongoing.
From:NSA-1989.10.15320 An analysis of Operation was conducted by anNSAInternal Review Board, which concluded that field and office operations were conducted within the constraints ofNSA directives and Congressional guidelines…Actions of agents were deemed appropriate and necessary to success of the mission. Citations and awards approved and issued by Director, NSA. Continued pursuit of foreign intelligence assets authorized by current directives continues.
Signed John I. Banner
Associate Director
&n
bsp; National Security Agency
* Refers to on-going NSA Operation Project , authorized by Executive Order, May 17, 1956, Classified, Access Restricted. cc: Director, NSA
End of Report—Nothing Follows. ****
A preview
Of
Black Star Mountain
by T. C. Miller
COMING SOON FROM Timber Creek Press
CHAPTER 1
Rampart Range, Rocky Mountains Near Colorado Springs, Colorado
June 26, 1983
“C’mon, dudes, we gotta get back down the mountain before it gets totally dark. One fall and it’d be all over for us. “Yeah, we hear ya…Right after we finish our smoke break. Haulin’ them crates up the hill was back-breakin’…We need to catch our breath.”
“No time for that…Gotta get the deuce and a half back before they lock the armory gates. Old Kroft’ll kick my ass if he’s gotta come in on Monday to unlock a stupid gate…He’ll wannna know why we had a truck out late on a drill weekend.”
“You mean why you had a truck out late…” “Hey, quit screwin’ around…We’re all in this together, you know…Ain’t just my idea to take the stuff.”
“Just messin’ with you, man. But get real…Kroft don’t care…We kept trucks out before…He never said a damned thing.”
“It’s different now…He’s takin’ a lotta shit from Denver…They say we gotta be more military.”
“Like that’s gonna happen…We’re weekend warriors… we don’t gotta be military.
“I know, but why yank his chain any more’n we have to… Hey, I can smell what you’re smokin’ from here…That ain’t no regular cigarette.”
“No shit, Sherlock…Want some?”
“Sure, just be careful with the candles…Why’d you light so many?”
“To see what we’re doin’, genius…This cave is dark and you know Randy’s afraid of the dark.”
“Ain’t afraid of no dark, dipshit…Just don’t want nothin’ crawlin’ on me…Besides, this old place gives me the willies.”
“It’s just an old mine…That’s why we’re stashing the stuff here…Nobody’ll ever find it.”
“Because nobody’s dumb enough to come in this far…And that’s another reason this place gives me the creeps…Beams gotta be a hundred years old…Look at ‘em sag.”
“That’s just a opcatle…oppica…Man, this is good shit…Can’t hardly talk…Wait, I got it…Must be an optical delusion.”
“Up yours, dimwit, I’m sittin’ next to one and it’s creakin’.”
He jumped up and knocked over two candles. One fell behind a wooden crate onto a pile of timber splinters and started a small fire. Hidden behind the crates, it took hold in the bone-dry tinder.
“Hey, dude, what’s that light back there? Didja get both of them candles?
“Both? Nobody told me there was two.” The flames flared into a white-hot blaze taller than a man in an instant. The dancing orange and yellow light illuminated the terrified looks of the young soldiers.
“We gotta get outta here, fast!”
“Too late…ain’t no way we’re gittin’ past that fire…Oh, sweet Jesus, we’re gonna die here.”
“Don’t panic, dude…”
“I gotta every right to panic…And don’t call me dude…Name’s Jeremy…You got that? Jeremy.”
“Whatever, asshole…Oh, man, can’t breathe…legs are numb…What the hell’s in this shit?”
“How would I know?…Got it from a friend of my sister.”
“Gotta be spiked …C’mon get your ass up, dude…help me find the way out.”
“Can’t get up…Legs’re too heavy…And I thought I said don’t call me…What’d I say? Oh, yeah, don’t call me…uh, dude…That’s it, don’t call…Hey, what’s wrong with Randy?”
“Don’t know…Think he passed out…Randy…dude, you okay?”
“See? Randy don’t like being called dude no more’n I do.
“Ain’t movin’…What the…cracking?”
“Sounds like wood splitting.”
“C’mon, dude, we gotta go.”
“You don’t hear too good, do you? I said don’t…uh, don’t call me…uh, dude…”
NORAD SECURE BRIEFING ROOM PETERSON AFB, COLORADO
November 14, 1989 Jake Thomas looked to his left down the conference table and caught the eye of Joanna Davies, the youngest member of the BlackStar Ops Group. He put his forefinger to his temple and flicked his thumb, in a gesture that said, “Shoot me now, I’m so bored.”
Lt. Colonel Jim Martin, Public Affairs Director for NORAD paused. “Agent Thomas…Do you have a question?”
A red-faced Jake replied, “No, sir, just thinking about lunch.”
Bart Winfield, Team Leader of BSOG-1, and Jake’s boss, intervened. “Actually, we’ve been doing this for a couple hours, might could be a good time to break for lunch.”
Martin glanced up at the clock. “It’s only 11:00…We don’t usually have lunch until noon.”
“Really? My stomach’d think my throat got cut if it had to wait that long.”
Nora, his wife of over twenty years and also a BSOG team member patted his leg and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Play nice with others, dear.”
“All right, I guess we can wait…if you really want us to.”
“No, not at all, since you’re our guests…I guess we can take a break and grab a bite in one of the clubs on base.”
“As appealing as that sounds, I saw any number of fine-looking restaurants in town. How about one of them?”
Martin looked down at his notes. “I suppose we could…But we still have a lot of material to cover and…”
“Well, there’s always tomorrow, isn’t there?”
Bart had learned to relax considerably since leaving his position as Operations Commander of the Air Force Security Police Squadron at Mather Air Force Base and becoming team leader of the Black Star Ops Group, a highly classified project of the National Security Agency.
He, Nora, Jake and Joanna were the military contingent of the BSOG. The other three members were interspersed among them at the table and included Mary Benson and Jay Johansen, two civilian agents of the National Security Agency.
Carl Dean, formerly Bill Johnson, joined the group recently. He was a rehabilitated member of the “Thursday Night Mafia”, the group of locals who attacked the alert pad at Mather AFB.
“I guess,” Martin hesitantly replied. “Thought it’d be a good idea to keep up a steady pace, though.”
“And normally, I’d agree with you, but we just drove over thirteen hundred miles and we’re still stretching our aching backs.”
“Not to mention our aching butts,” Joanna whispered to Nora.
“Behave, Baby Girl…May not be your real mama, but I’ll still ground you.” Nora whispered back
“Yes, Mama.”
Martin offered a tight smile. “Well, I see I’m clearly outnumbered, so let’s say we take an hour’s break for lunch…”
“How about two?” Bart said with a smile.
“If you insist, Colonel…We’ll meet back here in two hours to continue the briefing. Colonel Winfield, could I speak with you alone?”
“Sure thing, pardner…Rest of you can head for the car…I’ll be along in a minute.”
“Colonel Winfield, I’m not accustomed to rudeness like…
“Not to interrupt, but let me start by apologizing for my team…They’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“I understand the pressure a tight schedule can put on people…”
“It’s not the schedule that’s put pressure on them…It’s dodging bullets, bombs and booby-traps…Call it the ‘Three Bs’, plus that deadly fourth B…bad guys. ’”
“Bullets and booby-traps? I had no idea…”
“I know…That’s why I telling you.”
“You weren’t part of that thing in Northern California, were you?”
“Well, I could tell you, bu
t as the bad joke goes…Then I’d have to kill you…Get my drift?”
“Certainly…Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, I feel like you’re doing fine…We’ll continue the safety and security briefings after lunch and I’ll jump in if there’s a problem…Now, you wanna join us for lunch?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here and catch up on some things.”
“Suit yourself…See you in a couple of hours…or so.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” Why do I have the feeling it’ll be more than a couple of hours?
