Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller

by Bradley West

“Of course, all of this is separate from the charges Nolan may face for his possible role in Watermen’s NSA file theft or, indeed, Watermen’s death earlier today in Sri Lanka.”

  Martin Posner, head of legal Asia, spoke up. “I’ve heard enough. Charles Burns is relieved of his duties effective immediately. Richard Constantine, COS Singapore, is next in seniority. Constantine becomes acting head of Asia, pending the outcome of this inquiry.”

  “Agreed,” said Lavigne.

  There was an awkward silence before Shoenstein spoke up. “Recall that there were two reasons Lucy and I requested an urgent conference call. The first was Burns’s order to Rear Admiral Cochran to interdict the Harcourt Aviation jet. We’ve now covered that. The second is equally delicate. We learned earlier today that Constantine ordered an illegal tap placed on the office and cell phones of the local DEA officer in charge, Damien Barling.”

  “Judas Priest!” said Posner, strong words for the mild-mannered Agency lifer.

  “One of the people tasked with putting the tap on approached us—Robert Collins, newly in charge of surveillance and IT for Singapore station.”

  “How long has this been in place?” asked Lavigne.

  “Since early Thursday morning, so over twenty-four hours.”

  “And where is Constantine now?” asked Posner.

  “On a flight to Tokyo to represent the CIA in a meeting taking place tonight that was to have been chaired by Burns. The senior CIA and DEA officers are sitting down to resolve jurisdiction issues in Rangoon, plus discuss what seems to have become an intractable feud between Matthews and Samuel Hecker, the DEA number two in Asia.”

  “I was supposed to attend that meeting,” Posner said. “But with the CIA’s attendees listed as Burns, Matthews and now Constantine, I think half of the table will be reduced to empty chairs. I’m cancelling the meeting. As for Constantine, I can’t see how we have any alternative but to suspend him as well.”

  “I concur,” Lavigne said. “Pending the result of an investigation, Richard Constantine is suspended from all duties. Maury, anything else?”

  Posner said, “I need Maury to contact the admiral to rescind the fighter intercept order. Track that Gulfstream and arrest Nolan if he lands within US reach. Right now, the flight plan says East Timor, where I’m afraid we have no extradition treaty in force.

  “David Leung, COS, Hong Kong is next in seniority in Asia after Constantine. Mary Jo, if you’d let David know the circumstances behind this temporary appointment, I’d be grateful. Burns will want to brief him on today’s big developments: China has occupied islands belonging to Japan but claimed by China and Taiwan, too. There’s been a naval bombardment, aerial combat, and an amphibious landing. We don’t know more because secure comms are down due to satellite problems.”

  “I’ll inform the DEA that the CIA won’t be sending any senior staff to tonight’s meeting due to these suspensions. I’ll get messages to NID Morris and DCI Perkins explaining the situation using a one-time pad. I imagine Billy won’t be pleased.” Posner’s fingers trembled as he played with the Zippo lighter he’d had since he was a young lawyer in Saigon assigned to the Phoenix Program.

  Lavigne said goodbye and disconnected the speakerphone. “I’ll get the letters done. You look like you could use a drink.”

  “Several. I can already see the eighteen-year-old Yamazaki in the glass,” Posner confessed.

  * * * * *

  Since being released by the Singapore police the day before, Juanilla had worked nonstop to restore the family home to a livable state. Ma’am’s return home had turned downbeat when she surveyed the wreckage and asked pointed questions. Juanilla knew better than to try to protect Sir. Ma’am had a built-in lie detector and was by far the scarier of the two.

  Mei Ling hadn’t been back since Christmas break over two months previously. Her room was in good shape, as it had been searched with a light touch. She showered and put on moisturizers while her mother gave their helper a week’s worth of instructions in arrears. The internet still worked, so Mei Ling checked the PC on the second-floor landing and saw Dad’s pathetic Safe-mail saying he couldn’t help. Fortunately for her mother and her, her father had still managed to engineer their releases. Her mother clumped up the stairs, tears streaming done her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Mom?” She rose to hug her.

  Her mother’s voice broke with emotion. “Your cheating father is what’s wrong. I’m divorcing that man.”

  “About time, Mom. About time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  DIPLOMATIC IMPUNITY

  FRIDAY MARCH 14, TEHRAN; BEIJING; TOKYO; SINGAPORE; GULFSTREAM 550 N168TT EX-RATMALANA AIR FORCE BASE, SRI LANKA

  Grand Ayatollah Khamenei wasn’t used to hearing bad news. Gilani sat on hold for over an hour until the Supreme Leader concluded his meeting at the No. 9 Federal Building in Tehran. “Yes, Colonel, what is it?” he asked once he stepped into a vestibule and picked up the handset. Outside, the Grand Ayatollah’s retinue stood at a respectful distance, either texting or emailing.

  “Your Excellency, Operation Menander will only partially succeed. Our adversaries are blind, but that will last only another two or three hours. Therefore, there may not be enough time to implement the full plan.”

  “The rocket won’t be ready to launch for another three hours. The incompetents improperly connected the power supply. We’re airlifting in additional equipment to Alborz. Sometimes I think our army is on the Zionist payroll. So you’re saying we cannot decapitate the Jew menace today?”

  “Yes, sir; not without a high risk of detection and failure and, most likely, ensuring a massive retaliation from Israel, which would most certainly include nuclear weapons.”

  “Given that my own generals are too cowardly to tell me directly, I will take that as proof of what you say. We will defer vengeance for another day. You will set a date for another attack. This one will work as planned and permanently blind the Great Satan’s spy agencies. Then we will destroy Israel utterly.”

  “Yes, sir. We can do that, sir. Uh, sir, one other question?”

  “Yes, yes. Speak, man, or does a devil have your tongue?”

  “I received orders yesterday that said that I was to supervise the execution and disappearance of the PLA programmers working on Menander. Do you still wish to proceed?”

  “Of course. I don’t want to disappoint our friends in China. Leave none of them alive, and be certain to hide our own programmers after executing an identical number of substitutes who resemble them. After all, a deal is a deal.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Goodbye and Inshallah,” said Gilani, but the Grand Ayatollah was already off the call and on his way to the next meeting.

  * * * * *

  Seated behind a huge oak desk, Ambassador Lionel Sturgis received Yi Xiubao. When the summons had come, Yi had bristled. Protocol required foreign diplomats to come to him; who were the Americans to tell a senior official, the secretary of the Central Commission for Intelligence no less, to visit their embassy? But with the president busy supervising Polar Bear, and Operation Menander likely coming to a premature conclusion, Yi decided it was better to hear the American out.

  “Your Excellency, so nice to meet you one on one at last,” Yi gushed. They had exchanged pleasantries previously at cocktail functions, but that was before Yi’s promotion.

  “Congratulations on your elevation to the PSC and new post. Those are impressive achievements, but I’m afraid the reason I requested your attendance is serious. As we don’t have much time, I will get to the point.” Sturgis was a political appointee, but he was also a self-made multimillionaire from South Carolina with a high intellect.

  Yi saw him as a pushy African-American who attained this post by bankrolling Obama’s reelection campaign. At best he was a message bearer for the real decision makers in Washington. At worst, he was a self-aggrandizer and time-waster. Yi took the proffered seat and opened a notebook, feigning readiness to take notes.

  “US
reconnaissance overflights of the Senkaku—the Diaoyu to you—Islands show China-flagged warships near shore. Prior to being overrun and going off the air, the Japan garrison described their assailants as PLA marines. This invasion of Uotsuri Jima, the largest island in the Senkaku chain, is an outrage. You must be aware that the US is obligated by treaty to treat this incident as an invasion of mainland Japan. China must withdraw its forces and pay reparations for any lost lives and damaged property. Within the hour my colleagues in Washington will be imparting the same message to your ambassador.”

  The first thing Yi noted was that Obama himself hadn’t summoned China’s ambassador to the White House, irrespective of the time. So the invasion wasn’t actually that important. He said, “We have no knowledge of any such action, but a patriotic military commander—following his heart and not his head—may have overstepped his authority.”

  “As your own sources will confirm, the United States deployed a battle group led by the nuclear carrier USS George Washington. It will be near enough to the Senkaku Islands to launch carrier-based aircraft tonight in keeping with our mutual defense treaty with Japan. Withdraw your forces while there’s still time.”

  “Mr. Ambassador, what you are saying comes as a complete surprise. I shall have to check with the president and fellow Politburo Standing Committee members. I will be in a position to deliver a formal reply no later than eight tomorrow morning. In the interim, I urge you to hold off taking any military action. I assure you that the People’s Republic of China is peace-loving and peace-seeking. Let’s not risk hostilities over what is surely a misunderstanding.”

  Receiving no reply, Yi prompted Sturgis. “Is there anything else?”

  The ambassador measured him with a long look. “Does China possess any knowledge of a DDOS attack on National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency assets? I remind you that an attack on either party’s launch detection capabilities is the equivalent of a nuclear first strike and, under treaties that China has signed, allows for an appropriate response up to and including first use of nuclear weapons.”

  Sturgis continued, his voice rising, “I cannot believe that China would be foolhardy enough to try to impair the US’s satellite capabilities, and seek to occupy the Senkakus in secret. The attack on the NGA has failed, but if we trace the DDOS’s origins to your country, China will pay a steep price. You are sailing a very fine course, Mr. Secretary. I hope you know what you are doing.”

  I just need you to sail close enough to the mainland for our anti-ship ballistic missiles to reach the George Washington. That’s all the sailing I require, thought Yi as he stood up, nodded and turned to leave. Imagine being talked to like a schoolboy by that impertinent black.

  * * * * *

  SQ12 landed at 5:30 p.m. Tokyo time. Like Matthews and Constantine, Hecker was glued to his phone once he’d acquired a signal. A global alert advised all DEA staff that comms were insecure, so everything he received was censored. No emails from Nolan came as no surprise. Ryder had reported all was well before boarding the flight to Hawaii. Gonzalez was back in Rangoon. He’d heard a very interesting story from their new friend and would have the recording transcribed once he reached the office. Hecker made a mental note to call Gonzalez for more details once the secure lines were back up.

  Hecker took stock. He’d already circulated the phony MAS crate photo, but in any event, the satellite's detection of the radiation in the ocean corroborated the substance. Teller was dead and Mullen could well be dying. The only aces in the hole were Mullen’s confession and the transcript of Johnson’s torture sessions. If Johnson’s recording ever saw daylight, Hecker would end up in prison. Even if Johnson’s recording remained secret, the CIA’s case against Hecker was strong, starting with a cavalier disregard for the laws of Burma, disobedience of DEA orders, mishandling of a joint investigation with the CIA and finally, illegal deployment of US military personnel. In addition, Matthews hated his guts and needed Hecker fired to protect his own corrupt position. Mullen’s confession was the difference between jail and redemption. He texted Gonzalez to hurry up with that transcript.

  Hecker could scarcely contain his glee when he saw Matthews whirl around and reverse course away from international arrivals. “Where are you heading? We can share a car,” he said, but from the way Matthews looked, there’d been a change of plans.

  Matthews practically spat on him as he passed. “I’ve been ordered to fly on to Washington. I’ve been suspended. I will reverse this, and see you fired and prosecuted.”

  Constantine had been walking next to Hecker, presumably eavesdropping, until he looked at his phone. “Oh, Lord! I’ve been suspended and ordered to fly to DC as well.” Looking up, he ignored Hecker’s outstretched hand. “Tell Nolan he must surrender or else we can’t guarantee his safety.”

  Hecker stopped and reread the subject lines of the thirty-odd emails in his inbox to convince himself that he still had a job. A new email arrived as he finished the second run-through. It was Steinlager reporting that Burns, Constantine and Matthews had each been suspended for unnamed reasons. As the meeting was now canceled, Steinlager invited Hecker to the Okura Hotel to grab dinner and catch up. An expense account meal in the grand dame of Tokyo five-star hotels with the potential for a nightcap in Roppongi put a bounce in his step.

  * * * * *

  To hear Mom the past hour, Dad must have bedded the entire adult female Indian population of Southeast Asia in her bedroom in her house using her silk scarves in some unspeakable manner. Mei Ling was alerted to more bad news when Mom howled while sorting through the accumulated snail mail. HSBC wrote to confirm an account closure: the retirement account. Dad could rot in Sri Lanka, or wherever the hell he was.

  It was time to resume her career in California. Mei Ling went online and looked up flights, avoiding any that had a stopover in Hong Kong, where China’s long arms could still reach her. She found one on Singapore Airlines with an aisle seat, hit the purchase button and waited for the credit card approval.

  The landline next to the PC rang. “Mei Ling Nolan?” said the voice.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “If you attempt to fly to the US, one of two outcomes results. On landing, you’ll be arrested and jailed on suspicion of abetting a fugitive or fugitives. Alternatively, you’ll be followed and have your communications tapped until the FBI eventually accumulates the evidence needed to arrest you on the same charges. For the time being, the only place we can guarantee your safety is Singapore. Your credit card will work for anything other than travel. This is for your own protection.”

  Mei Ling fumed. “Since you know everything, what can you tell me about my father’s leaving Singapore? I need to understand what’s going on.”

  “Come over to Internal Security Department headquarters off Tanglin Road and meet Inspector Lum. He should be able to help, and maybe you can help him, too.”

  “When would you like me to come in?”

  “We’ll have a car outside your house in fifteen minutes.”

  * * * * *

  Captain Jack Nishimoto answered his satphone. It was head office ordering him to land in Singapore. He asked them to hold and passed command to Jenkins, who was working on a Sudoku puzzle. He left the cockpit and was pleased to see that Adam Birch was now awake.

  “Mr. Birch, I have the CEO of Harcourt Aviation on the phone at some ungodly hour US time. He tells me your real name is Robert Nolan, and you’re a rogue CIA officer selling China top-secret files stolen by Mark Watermen. Your companion, Ms. Mimi Chan, is actually a senior officer in China’s Ministry of State Security named Yu something-or-other.”

  “I’m Robert Nolan and this is Yu Kaili. That much is true. I’m not selling anything to anybody. The China, Russia and US intelligence services are trying to kill us. China agents shot Watermen. My injuries resulted from a grenade explosion in a gun battle with Russia agents. The CIA is trying to kill or capture us to stop us from proving that current or former CIA officers were behind the
hijacking of MH370 and the murder of almost every passenger, including your nephew.

  “Ms. Yu is a fugitive from the MSS as well. She’s trying to solve the MH370 mystery, given that there were 152 China citizens on board. If I had been working with or selling secrets to China or Russia, why would I have used my life savings to charter this plane from Singapore to Sri Lanka, and now on to Australia? Those are funny places to go if you’re planning to defect.” Nolan spoke in an even tone: he was weak and past caring.

  “Let’s split the difference. I’m flying you two to Truscott Field, but will report that I was coerced. You should also expect US military aircraft to intercept and force us down. At least that was what my CEO threatened.”

  “That may or may not happen. If the CIA is complicit in the hijacking, the place they would most like me to end up is an offshore interrogation center. That’s what I believe Truscott Field is being used for: the questioning of high-value kidnap victims from MH370. For me to land there voluntarily just saves them another flight, but if US fighters force us down in Singapore, that means the CIA isn’t officially behind the hijacking. In that case, I’d be happy to work with uncorrupted CIA officials to solve the MH370 mystery. Either way, we should keep flying.”

  “Sounds like you’ve thought it through. You have about an hour until Singapore-based fighters appear off our wingtips.” Nishimoto went back into the cockpit and spoke on the satphone for a few seconds before hanging up. He leaned around and said, “I told them you threatened to destroy the plane if we diverted our course from Dili, and I hung up. Let’s see what happens next.” He shut the cockpit door to have a word with Jenkins.

  Nolan turned to Kaili. “Thanks for patching me up. I’m not bleeding anywhere, at least for now.”

  “You’ve lost plenty of blood and you were asleep for about two hours, so you will dehydrate if you don’t drink.”

  Nolan did as he was told, chugging most of a quart bottle. “What’s your real mission? We both know it doesn’t have anything to do with MH370.”