Justification For Killing

by Larry Hunt

  Chapter Thirty

  MK-ULTRA

  Placing his teacup in his saucer, Si Lei turning to Sam Lin anxiously said, “I told you Sam Lin, we need to go home... now...!! She is using that... that... word... I’m telling you this is just going to get worse. She used the word ‘ultra’ that means it’s not just going to be regular bad but really, really bad.”

  “Kat, as I said, don’t pay any attention to Si Lei, this is just the way he is... he is very good at what he does, one of the best in the business, but tends to be a little irrational at times. It has no affect on his work, trust me when I tell you he’s a lot smarter than he sounds. But both Si Lei and I heard the name MK-ULTRA when we worked at CIA headquarters, but it was exceedingly hush-hush. What is this secret project MK-ULTRA?”

  Slipping even closer, Kat whispered, “MK-ULTRA is like an onion – as you peel the layers off you will expose your senses to the brutal reality of the objects interior. You want to know? Well it’s your funeral!”

  “See I told you Sam Lin, ‘funeral’ that’s the same as ‘death’, I’m totally against both of those. I’m telling you, let’s go home!”

  “Please be quiet Si Lei, go on Kat...”

  “Okay if you insist - Project MK-ULTRA, was the stealthy name for a black-ops, illegal CIA program using human subjects for experimentation. The CIA’s Office of Cerebral Information and Intelligence (CII) managed it. The man on whom you are seeking info - Doctor Ryan Rousseau - was the Chief of this detestable, underground operation!

  “I managed to find out Dr. Rousseau’s father was the infamous German Nazi Dr. Josef Mengele. Your Ryan Rousseau came by his job honestly since his father had tortured Jewish children, Gypsy children and many others during the war. "Patients" were put into pressure chambers, tested with drugs, castrated, frozen to death, and exposed to various other traumas, all in the name of Nazi “science”. Mengele himself injected chemicals into the eyes of children in an attempt to change their eye color. Unfortunately a strict veil of secrecy over the experiments enabled Mengele to do his work more effectively; however close to the end of the war his records were sent to Dr. Von Verschiers at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute at Heidelberg in two truckloads and were supposedly destroyed by the latter, but the OSS, which is now the CIA saved those records. Those records became the core for the CII experiments. After the war Dr. Josef Mengele escaped to South America and changed his name to Helmut Gerhart. He died in 1979. His son became Ryan Rousseau, believing Rousseau sounded less German than his father’s atrocious Mengele name.”

  “Kat, this cannot be true. SCAR did a complete Top Secret background check on Rousseau and found no mention of Josef Mengele; in fact, his father, Paul Rousseau was supposedly a second-generation immigrant from France.”

  “Remember we are dealing with the CIA - they can do, change or completely fabricate anything. The U.S. government, utilizing this same CIA, began working with human subjects in the early 1950s, and they continued, at least through the early 1970s. The test subjects were from various countries; however, most were citizens of the United States. A few were Russian, and some were even U.S. Army and Marine military personnel.

  “I have been working within the CIA on this covert operation for many years now, and I can tell you MK-ULTRA used a host of different methods to alter or control individual brain functions of test subjects. In doing so they were attempting to manipulate their mental state.”

  Sam Lin interjected, “Kat how were they doing this?”

  “The CIA dispensed many kinds of psychedelic chemicals and drugs, both legal and illegal, to their victims. Sometimes hypnotism was used, at other times they used sensory deprivation, or they might place the subject in isolation or inflict them with verbal or sometimes sexual abuse. The CIA operatives were not beyond the use of torture to achieve their goals either.”

  “That sounds like mind control. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Mind control was exactly what they were trying to achieve - a real life edition of The Manchurian Candidate. In fact, this book may have been the catalyst for some genius in the CIA wanting to begin this clandestine program.”

  “Were they ever successful?” asked Si Lei. “I sure would have hated to have been one of their test subjects.”

  “If the CIA had used you Si Lei,” said Sam Lin, “they would have abandoned the program before it ever got started - remember the program is called ‘mind control’, you would have been dropped as an unsuccessful subject. There would have found nothing to control,” still chuckling he slapped Si Lei on the shoulder.

  “Funny, Sam Lin, funny, you need to get a comedy act,” Si Lei said angrily crossing his arms.

  “Kat, I have a couple of questions, first - was the program successful and when did it REALLY end?”

  “We believe in a few cases it was successful, but, in most others, the results could be described as disastrous.” She continued by explaining the investigation she had been involved in for the past couple of years. In a number of cases, she said, the CIA believes some test subject were not even aware, and certainly without their consent, were injected with dangerous drugs. In fact, she said, “in the mid nineteen fifties Dr. Fred Osborn, a biochemist and biological weapons researcher and Chief of the U. S. Army’s Special Operations Division at Fort Detrick, Maryland ingested LSD without his knowledge or consent as part of an experiment administered by the CIA. He died under suspicious circumstances a week later.”

  Continuing she said, “The CIA concluded Dr. Osborn had been suffering from severe schizophrenic madness when he leaped from the fourteenth floor of a New York hotel in 1958. Another doctor had been assigned to watch Dr. Osborn, but he said he had been asleep and did not see him jump. The CIA declared his death had been a suicide. The other doctor, also a Russian defector, was held responsible for Dr. Osborn’s death. The CIA reprimanded him, kept him from future promotions, and ultimately in the early part of 1960 he also jumped from the upper floor of an apartment building and committed ‘suicide’.”

  “Are you suggesting the CIA might have been involved in Dr. Osborn’s death? What would be their motive?”

  With the mention of death, Si Lei set his cup down, turned and stared directly at Kat and said, “I believe Osborn was pushed.” Looking, one could have seen the fear in Si Lei’s eyes. “Home, Sam Lin we need to drop this investigation and go home.”

  “Surprising you said pushed Mr. Kim, Dr. Osborn had been personally involved with MK-ULTRA and knew all the CIA secrets. We believe the Company had decided he had become a security risk and might divulge the sinister secrets associated with this highly classified illegal, covert operation. Especially since he had personal knowledge of some of the people involved. The strange thing... in the mid-nineties, his body was exhumed, and a complete, independent autopsy was performed. The pathologists found Dr. Osborn had sustained severe blunt force injuries to his head before he hit the street fourteen floors below. They ruled the death was a homicide. He had been murdered before someone threw him out the hotel window a hundred and forty feet above the cold, hard cement of the sidewalk below.”

  “You mean this all went on, and no one in our government knew about it?”

  She then explained how the U.S. Congress personally got involved in the middle of the ‘70s with an investigation. This investigation became known as the Church Committee. Even the President got involved and formed another group of investigators known as the Rockefeller Commission. Kat further told them how the CIA Director, Richard Hellams in 1973 ordered all the MK-ULTRA records destroyed. At least, she said the Director thought he had erased all the evidence linking the CIA with such a despicable program.

  Pausing for a second she asked, “I’m sorry, but would you mind if I smoked? We have been sitting here sipping tea and talking for quite a long time. I believe if I do not get a cigarette I am going to have a nicotine tantrum.”

  “You mean ‘nicotine fit’?”

  “Yes, of course, ‘fit’. What must I
be thinking? Yes, a nicotine fit.” Before receiving an answer, she pulled a box of cigarettes, along with an exquisite gold lighter, from the clutch she had taken from her purse. With a flip of her thumb, she opened the lid on the box, removed an un-filtered cigarette and touched lighter flame to the end. Sucking in a lung-full of smoke she slowly exhaled the blue mist back into the air, “Hmmm, yes,” she said. “Gentlemen, would you excuse me for a moment... I need to go to the ladies room and powder my nose.” Sliding back from the table, she arose and walked across the restaurant to one of the restrooms located in the rear. The rhythmic taping of her heels reminded them of their initial meeting a few hours earlier at the Thai Pavilion.

  Sam Lin was watching her every move as she walked. Si Lei snickered, “Like what you see, huh?”

  “What?” Sam Lin absentmindedly answered, still engrossed in watching her go around the screen separating the restroom from the main seating area. “No! Si Lei... well yes, she is beautiful, but something is not right. I have a feeling she’s not being entirely truthful.”

  “What do you mean Sam Lin? She is our contact here in Bangkok. She is CIA, what is wrong with you Sam Lin?”

  “Okay, look at the box of cigarettes lying there in her open purse. It is a pack of Sobranies. That particular brand is Russian and is called ‘Black Russian’. Look the box is black with gold foil. Notice it is emblazoned with the Russian imperial eagle. Sam Lin, I remember these smokes, they are expensive Russian cigarettes made especially for the Russian taste.”

  “Just because she likes, what did you call them, Black Russians, doesn’t mean anything. We lived here for awhile, I bet lots of people smoke that brand.”

  “You’re right but what about the purse of hers. How many American women have you ever seen go to the restroom without taking their purse? Especially to freshen their makeup, none I tell you, N-O-N-E,” he said spelling the word. “In fact, American women will not go anywhere without their purse. It’s like leaving an arm behind. They always, and I mean always take it along. She left it as if she had forgotten it. Si Lei it is as if she had not been used to carrying it.”

  “What are you thinking Sam Lin?”

  “Nothing, she says she is CIA, and I suppose she is, but we never saw an identity badge or anything, just her word, and another thing, what about the nicotine thing? Everyone who smokes has said at least a million times, ‘I’m having a nicotine fit’. She doesn’t seem to be the person she says she is, but she has been giving us a lot of good information and — ”

  Softly Si Lei whispered, “Sssh, she is returning.”

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen. Where were we? Forgive me – I have monopolized the whole conversation. Let me rest for a moment, drink my tea and allow you to tell me exactly what you both expect to find in Bangkok?”

  “Earlier you said our Director had greased the tracks for our visit. You further stated you knew we were here to look for information on a man named Ryan Rousseau. Mr. Rousseau was our boss. What exactly did Director Scarburg divulge of our mission?”

  “Nothing much more than the subject Ryan Rousseau. Why are you so interested in him? Fill me in. What exactly is SCAR? What does the acronym mean? What is SCAR’s mission? How long has Mr. Rousseau worked for SCAR? Where is SCAR’s headquarters? What does Mr. Rousseau’s work entail?

  “Whoa... whoa... Kat, I thought the CIA would have already had the answers to all those questions — ”

  Before Sam Lin could complete his sentence, Kat interrupted, “Yes, yes we do, I did not read the whole file. I only became aware of your arrival just an hour or so before your plane landed. Sorry for all the questions.”

  The more she talked the more suspicious Sam Lin became. Si Lei started to answer Kay’s questions when Sam Lin turned to him and said, “Si Lei, excuse me, but remember you told your wife you would call her at precisely midnight.”

  “What.... my wife?” Questioned Si Lei.

  “Look at the time, it is 1:55 p.m. Saturday afternoon in Bangkok that means it is 11:55 p.m. Friday night back in the states. You only have a couple of minutes, come let’s walk outside the café for better reception. Excuse us for a couple of minutes Kat, Si Lei’s wife is rather demanding.”

  Grabbing Si Lei by the coat sleeve he pulled him to his feet and pushed him toward the open expanse of the concourse. All the time Si Lei was trying to resist the rough treatment he was getting.

  Stepping from the doorway into the stream of passengers, airport personnel and tourists scurrying up and down the concourse Si Lei jerked his arm from the grasp of Sam Lin and angrily demanded, “Brother! What in the heck are you trying to get me to do? I can’t call a wife I don’t have!”

  “Si Lei I had to get you alone – I’m telling you this woman is no CIA agent. Her true identify is unknown, but we must be careful and not divulge any more information than we have to. Just leave the talking to me. I believe I can handle her. Get your cell phone and call Captain Scarburg at home. Ask him whom he talked to in the CIA or the FBI and find out if he has ever heard of a woman named Katrina Ryabov. Tell the Captain we are on a hot lead, and will get back to him as soon as we have something concrete to report.”

  Speaking quietly to the Captain, Si Lei finished his telephone conversation with his “wife,” turned to Sam Lin and whispered, “Sam Lin, the Director said he tried to speak to the FBI Chief of the Legats at the U.S. Embassy here in Bangkok, but the Chief was away on Embassy business. He could do nothing but leave a message with his secretary to be given to the Embassy Chief on his return. He only informed the Legat Chief we were coming and asked if they would provide assistance in the investigation of Ryan Rousseau. He was unfamiliar with Katrina Ryabov, and had never spoken with the CIA chief.”

  “Sam Lin, remind me again, what is a Legat?”

  “The FBI does not have separate offices in foreign countries, they must work out of the U.S. Embassy, and as such their offices are called ‘Legal Attachés’ or ‘Legats’.”

  After a couple of minutes, standing in the cafe door way with Si Lei talking to his “wife” the two brothers re-entered the restaurant and returned to the table where Kat was exhaling the blue smoke from yet another cigarette.

  “Everything okay at home? She said flicking the ashes into an ornate ashtray sitting on their table.

  “Okay Miss Kat, Mrs. Ryabov or whoever you are. The game is up! We have just talked with our Director, and we have been informed that you are not a CIA agent! Is this correct?” Sam Lin demanded.

  “Sam Lin the Director did not — ” Si Lei said trying to tell Sam Lin the Director did not say anything about Katrina Ryabov, except he had never heard of her.

  “I know... I know Si Lei,” Sam Lin said cutting off Si Lei, “the Director said Kay Ryabov was definitely not an operative for the CIA. Was he lying Miss Who-ever-you-are?”

  Shamefully, Miss Ryabov sat with her head bowed. Tears were beginning to form as she began to speak, “No... no he was telling the truth!! I am not a CIA agent, it is true, but I do work for the FBI; whoever, I am not an agent. It was I whom your Director spoke to when he called to speak with my boss the Legal Attaché’s Chief. I am merely his secretary, I took the note saying you both were coming to Bangkok to investigate Ryan Rousseau.”

  “Why? Why Miss Ry....”

  “No, as I said, please call me Kat... Katrina Sokolov is my real name, but I have always used Kat.”

  “Why Miss Sokolov (still being formal), did you try to deceive us? What did you hope to gain?”

  “Gentlemen, I know you will not believe what I am going to tell you, but I swear by all that is holy, it is the truth.” For the next hour or so she explained how her grandfather Dr. Joseph Rusnak, a Russian by birth had surrendered to the American army close to the end of World War II. The American Office of Strategic Services, the OSS, at first, did not utilize his medical skills and only used him as an interpreter. He did this job, thanklessly, until the war ended at which time the U.S. officials made a decision – to return hi
m to Russian. Before they sent him back to Russian, they discovered he was a highly trained Psychiatrist. Not only did he have a Doctorate in Psychiatry but he was schooled in the field of Psychoanalysis also.

  “They realized his field of study included understanding psychoanalytic therapy that relied on patterns of both conscious and unconscious feelings and thoughts. The OSS also understood his goal of treatment was to make the unknown known so the patient could begin to recognize patterns of thinking, feeling and behavior, which was no longer relevant to their life situation. As a Psychoanalysis, he usually dealt with emotional issues affecting the mind and the patient’s well being. His skill as a Psychiatrist dealt with the treatment of mental, emotional, or behavioral problems of his patients.”

  “Sam Lin? Didn’t the OSS later become the CIA?” Si Lei asked.

  “Yes, Si Lei, very true.”

  “Do you see why my grandfather was a perfect choice for a project like MK-ULTRA?”

  “Yes, very interesting, go on Miss Sokolov.”

  “MK-ULTRA had not yet begun when the OSS assigned him duties in the mind-control research, but it wasn’t too many years until that black-ops program began officially. Grandfather was enthusiastic and grateful to be employed in a field allowing him to use his formal training; however, at first his work was theoretical but later they forced him to employ his research on real human subjects. His enthusiasm turned to disappointment as he realized the harm he and others in the MK-ULTRA program were doing to their test subjects.

  “At first he went along with his, then OSS, superiors, but he became more and more disillusioned with his and the other doctor’s work. Finally, he made up his mind: the mind-control method using both legal and illegal drugs, and chemicals on their subjects was morally wrong. He was opposed to using hypnotism, sensory deprivation, verbal or sometimes sexual abuse, and totally against the use of torture to achieve the OSS/CIA mind-altering goals.

  “As you can imagine his meeting with his superiors did not go well, and as you can further guess, it did not end well either. As you might have surmised by now, there never was a Doctor Fred Osborn. I made him up - Doctor Fred Osborn was the name I used for my grandfather Doctor Joseph Rusnak!! The CIA murdered him!”

  “Okay,” said Sam Lin. “Now I am beginning to see the picture. Now, tell us how you got involved.”

  “My mother was twelve years old when Grandfather was murdered. She never got over his death - she died right after I was born. I was born in 1984, and Mama died in 1985. My Father sent me to the United States to live with my aunt, I never saw my Papa again.”

  “Dog-gone-it, Sam Lin, that’s the same year we were born!”

  “Yes Si Lei you are correct, go on Kat.”

  “The Agency killed my grandfather and indirectly caused the early death of my mother, and I don’t know, they may have killed my Father also, so I was raised without the benefit of love from any of them. Once I got of age I determined I was going to avenge all of their deaths.”

  “Avenge or revenge?”

  “Revenge, if you want to call it, I prefer to call it “Justice”. I obtained a Major in Criminal Justice and Minor in Foreign Languages. After graduation, I obtained a job with the FBI in Washington. I wanted to work as an Office Manager, not a Special Agent. I thought I would have a better opportunity to dig into the FBI records without drawing attention to myself in an office position. After a few years in Washington, I requested a transfer to Bangkok. With my knowledge of the local language, I was able to land a position in the Chief’s office of the Legal Attaché.”

  “All right Kat, I believe we are all on the same page now. Tell us more.”

  “Okay, as I have already said, I found out Ryan Rousseau was Chief of the Office of Cerebral Information and Intelligence. I also found out the CII section was just another name for MK-ULTRA. Rousseau was the man I was after, but after he had left Bangkok, I was never able to find out where he went because his file was sealed. That is, not until your boss gave me his name in his telephone call to my boss saying you both were coming over here seeking information on him. I devised my charade hoping to find out more about that devil Rousseau. That was the reason for my prying into your business. I thought if I pretended to be a CIA agent you might divulge more information to me.”

  “Thank you... thank you Kat for being honest with us. I believe Si Lei will agree, working together will be beneficial to both our causes. Let me say, we weren’t at all honest and up front with you either – Ryan Rousseau is not up for a promotion in our SCAR organization. He is the Chief of the Experimental Design Division in our Washington headquarters, that is a fact, and he has been there since SCAR was formed in the late ‘60s. Our Director Robert Scarburg, the one you talked to believes Mr. Rousseau tried to kill him, and he further believes Rousseau is a “mole,” his only question is - a mole for whom? And he would like to know for what reason? Our Director also believes MK-ULTRA may provide the answers. Kat could I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly, anything to help.”

  “Do you have any proof of your grandfather’s involvement with the MK-ULTRA project? Especially proof that the OSS or CIA was involved.”

  “Yes I do. I have a leather satchel full of my grandfather’s papers in a storage locker at my condo. I have read a lot of his notes, but my main emphasis was to find Mr. Rousseau. If I could have found Rousseau, I was going to expose him for the fiend he is. I wanted to put him to shame - yes, I wanted to make him hurt like I have hurt all my life. I had even imagined I would kill him when I found the hole he was hiding in.”

  “Kat, would it be possible for us to see those documents? You were taking a look at Rousseau in connection with MK-ULTRA, we have a new set of eyes, which might see something you missed.”

  “It is getting late – if you both will allow, I will take you to my condo and you can search through Grandfather’s papers. As you both look through the satchel I will prepare dinner - how does a good, hot, home cooked, meal sound?”

  For the first time in the last couple of hours, Si Lei heard something he liked, “Food!! Yes, sounds great to me.”

  The time was 4:45 p.m. Saturday, December 1, 2012.

  KAT’S CONDO 2B

  Leaving the Bangkok International Airport in Kat’s Cadillac STS-V8 Si Lei could not stop complimenting her about how cool her automobile was. “Si Lei please be quite,” said Sam Lin, “you’re embarrassing Ms. Sok... Sok... uh... Kat.”

  “No, it’s okay. It is a nice car. I bought it from an FBI employee who was being transferred back to the U.S. I got it at a great bargain; otherwise, I would not have able to afford it.”

  As Si Lei rubbed his hand across the soft, black leather seats, they continued to drive north until Miss Sokolov reached Highway Seven. A left turn, then thirty-four kilometers and forty-five minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the Tiboon Condo Town cluster of townhouses. Her apartment building was an attractive, European style, eighteen unit, three-floor complex designed for the foreign clientele working in Bangkok.

  Opening the driver’s door she stepped down to the asphalt pavement of the parking lot, remarking, “I’m on the 2nd floor, apartment 2B. The storage lockers are in the basement. I use locker 3B also since the apartment above me is being renovated. The locker space is unused, so what they don’t know doesn’t hurt them, right? I need the extra storage. Well actually, renovate, may be a stretch,” she continued. “The construction has been going on for two years, and it is still not completed. The workmen evidently work on their own peculiar Thailand time schedule.”

  The three walked up the sidewalk to the entrance, “Please push the buzzer for my apartment. Malita, my roommate will buzz us in.”

  Once... twice... three times Si Lei pressed the apartment button labeled ‘2B’. There was no response – there was no ‘buzz’ to open the locked main entrance door. “I don’t understand, today is Saturday? Malita does not work on the weekend. She should be here. I wonder why she will not ‘buzz
’ us in? Hold on, I’ll get my key to open the door.”

  Apartment 2B was the apartment on the right at the first landing. The door was slightly ajar. Kat and Si Lei were motioned to stop by Sam Lin as he slowly pushed on the white painted, steel, supposedly, burglarproof door with his foot. Swinging open the door a few inches allowed him to see inside, it was dark; the lights were off.

  A pungent smell from inside the apartment drifted to his nose. Sam Lin cocked his head and sniffed again. He had smelled this nauseous odor before - it was easy to recognize - Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia... death has the same repugnant stench in every country. He was sorry to say he remembered it remarkably well from each of these places. As operatives for the Company, both he and Si Lei had been assigned numerous missions in and out of all these countries during the Vietnam War where Death accompanied them as their constant companion.

  “Please stay out here Kat - come on Si Lei,” pushing open the door the two men were standing in a once fashionably furnished and decorated apartment’s living room. Now it was a shamble. Furniture was askew, couch pillows had been thrown in all directions; slits had been cut in the seat cushions. The end table drawers and all their contents had been dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Trash and the remains of furniture were strewn everywhere.

  “Looks like someone was searching for something?” Si Lei said, kicking some of the debris aside on the floor.

  “What gave you the first clue Sherlock?” replied Sam Lin sarcastically.

  Switching on the lights he turned to the open entranceway, and motioned for Kat to enter. “Did you tell anyone you were meeting us last night?”

  “No!! No one... I wouldn’t tell... oh, but wait!”

  “What? Who did you tell?”

  “I talked to Malita last night before I left to go to the airport.”

  Placing his index finger to his lips, he whispered to Kat, “Shhh, stay close, we don’t know who might still be in here.” Motioning to Si Lei, “Let’s check the rest of the condo.”

  The apartment only had a den, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. The kitchen area was separated from the living room by a bar and a couple of stools. Their view into this space was unhampered. They could see the cabinets had been searched, and the drawer content of spoons, knives and forks were scattered across the floor. Coffee, sugar and flour had been haphazardly dumped on top of this mess, but Malita was nowhere to be seen.

  The next room was the bath - the door was slightly open. Cautiously peeking around the door Sam Lin could see the small room was also empty; however, it had been given the same rough treatment as the living room and kitchen. Kat’s door to her bedroom was shut. Tiptoeing they approached the tightly closed door. Sam Lin pressed his finger to his lips again, softly counting, “One, two, three...,” he quickly swung open the door - empty! The clothes and other items in the closet had been tossed aimlessly onto the overturned bed. The room, like the rest of the apartment, was a total mess.

  Only one room remained - Malita’s bedroom - its door was also shut. Quietly the three crept closer... ever so closer. Sam Lin was at the door. Si Lei was hugging so close to his back Sam Lin could feel the heat from Si Lei’s breath; Kat, almost as close to Si Lei was bringing up the rear; using his handkerchief from his pocket Sam Lin grasped the cold handle. Even through the cloth his sweat from the palm of his hand made the door handle feel as though the steel handle had been retrieved from a refrigerator. He instinctively jerked his hand away. He had a dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He did not want to open this door, but he knew he must. Slowly he forced his hand to turn the stainless steel handle.

  As the door swung open a couple of inches the smell he had first detected at the front entry was now overpowering. Its nauseating scent overwhelmed his senses. The smell was coming from this room! He could not see inside. It was dark, the lights were out, and the curtains at the small window were drawn tightly shut. He was glad the room was dark he could feel a gnawing, sickening feeling in his gut. His gut was saying he did not want to see what was waiting inside. Knowing the situation was not going to improve he cautiously opened the door wider - the bright light from the living room partially illuminated the dark interior of the bedroom.

  Sitting in a straight chair, arms and legs bound with grey, duct tape was a limp body - moving closer Kay screamed from the bedroom door, “ It’s Malita!!” Blood from a hole in Malita’s right temple matted her blonde hair together. It had slowly seeped down her shoulder, dripped across her body and puddled into a sticky, red, gelatinous puddle on the floor. Blowflies seeking the syrupy goo could be heard buzzing within the room’s confines. Cuts and bruises were evident around her face. A trickle of blood had dried at the edge of her mouth. One eye had been totally swollen shut. It was quite apparent she had been horrendously tortured and savagely, beaten lifeless.

  “Is she... is she — ”

  “Dead? Yes, mercifully, she is dead.”

  At the word ‘dead’, a loud gasp was heard from the bedroom door, and a harsh refrain of sobs coming from Kat. “No... no... she cannot be dead!!”

  Sam Lin hurried back to Kat, clutched her by the shoulders and said as he tightly embraced her, “I know, I know.” Giving her a comforting pat on the back he continued, “I’m sorry... deeply sorry.”

  In a few minutes, Kat had regained her composure. Between sobs and sniffles she kept repeating, “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  Sam Lin and Si Lei had been sitting with her until the shock of Malita’s death subsided, Sam Lin finally asked, “Okay Kat, I hate to ask, but a couple of questions - how did you know when we would arrive? And what did you tell Malita? Did she know about your father’s papers?”

  “I don’t believe I mentioned the two of you to her, but your Director gave me your arrival information. It was on the note I left for my boss. As far as I can recall I do not think I told Malita where I was going. She and I talked about many private things; it’s possible I might have explained whom you were, and you were coming to Bangkok to investigate Ryan Rousseau. In fact, I believe I did mention your arrival – and I know one thing that I will never forgive myself for, she and I talked about my father’s papers and his satchel, but I never told her it was hidden in the basement.”

  “Kat, why would you be so trustful of your roommate? Had you two been friends for a long time?”

  Kat started by explaining her arrival back in Bangkok. Over the years a friend of her grandfather, who also worked for the Company, had keep in contact with her, as she grew older. In a letter, he mentioned if she ever returned to Bangkok she might want to seek out a CIA employee named Malita Smith and he provided Malita’s address. He told Kat she might want to find Malita since Malita’s mother had worked for the CIA at the same time as her grandfather Dr. Rusnak. When she got to Bangkok she sought out Malita. There was an immediate bond between the two and eventually they leased this apartment together, but as far as Kat could determine Malita’s mother had never disclosed anything about Ryan Rousseau or MK-ULTRA. Even though Malita had nothing to add which shed light on her grandfather’s murder the two of them had become close friends. She was beginning to tell Sam Lin and Si Lei more about her friendship with Malita when the conversation was interrupted by a phone ringing somewhere in the apartment.

  “Where’s that phone...?

  “That is Malita’s cell phone. It’s her ringtone. Sounds like it’s coming from over there next to the wall - underneath that pile of books pulled from the bookshelf.”

  Sam Lin grabbed the books and began tossing them aside frantically searching for the ringing phone. “Hel... Hello,” he said placing it to his ear.

  A disguised, computer generated voice on the other end replied, “Leave Bangkok, leave now! There is nothing for you here... both of you go home... now!! If you do not, it could be a deadly mistake… Your last... I repeat... deadly mistake!!” Before Sam Lin could respond, the connection was terminated.

  “Who was it Sam Lin?”
<
br />   “It certainly wasn’t the Bangkok welcoming committee. We need to contact the police, but before we do I would like to see those papers in the basement. I’m almost sure the people making the phone call were the same ones who slipped in here and killed your friend and ransacked your apartment. Kat, I believe they were trying to find your grandfather’s papers. Once the police arrive they will confiscate everything, and we will never get a look at Dr. Rusnak’s work.”

  “Okay, I understand. All of Grandfather’s papers are in a large, brown, leather satchel stored in the basement. They are not in my 2B locker I put them in locker 3B. Come I will show you.”

  THE BASEMENT

  Leaving the apartment they bounded down the stairs toward the basement. Taking two steps at a time, they hurried as fast as humanly possible. Fortunately they did not encounter anyone on the way down. Opening the door to the storage room they were greeted by a musty, odor suggestive of mold and mildew. The room was cold, damp and un-inviting. Surveying the room they could see one side was full of grey, steel lockers with large three inch high apartment numbers on the doors – each apartment was entitled to one locker and one caged storage area – the lessee provided their own locks and keys.

  Across from the row of lockers was Kay’s small, chain link enclosed storage area. It was large enough to hold her big, bulky items if need be, but at the current time it only contained a small kitchen table and a couple of chairs. They walked to the storage locker numbered 2B. The lock had been cut, but the lock still held the hasp closed. Since the contents of Kat’s locker were strewn about the floor, they did not bother to look inside. They were interested in the leather briefcase in 3B. To the left and a couple of lockers down was the locker they were seeking – 3B. It seemed to be undisturbed. Kat provided the key to the lock. Sam Lin un-locked the locker door and removed a large, brown, leather satchel.

  There was a light in Kat’s wire cage across from the storage lockers on the right side of the room. Sam Lin, Si Lei and Kat opened the chain-link gate, went inside and sat the satchel on the table. The single overhead seventy-five watt bulb provided ample illumination to see inside and reveal the contents of Doctor Joseph Rusnak’s satchel. Freeing the strap binding the bag, Sam Lin could see a number of manila folders.

  As he reached inside to get the first folder, Kat mentioned she wanted to see what the ransackers had done to her own 2B locker. Engrossed in the contents of the leather bag Sam Lin casually motioned Kay toward the gate. She swung the gate open, closed it, and walked back toward her own apartment’s locker. They had passed her 2B locker on the way from the door to 3B. Standing in front of 2B she fumbled to remove the cut lock from the ring holding the latch. After one or two attempts, the lock snapped out, she removed it from the hasp. The screech of the metal hinges could be heard as she slowly began to open the steel door... A metallic ‘click’ was heard...

  “What the...” she never got to finish... the explosion which followed was the most ear-splitting imaginable. The building shook. Debris, dust and smoke instantly filled the room. The deafening blast hit Sam Lin and Si Lei as they were bowed over examining the contents of the satchel. Blown to the concrete floor they were immediately covered with dust and other debris. Some of the matter defied description. Many of the bits and pieces appeared to be flesh and bone, and most were covered with blood. The only thing that saved them from the horrific blast was the wire cage - it stopped the deadly pieces of steel and metal from hitting them directly.

  Getting up from the floor, Sam Lin could faintly see through the haze of pink dust and smoke, and what remained of the once beautiful Katrina Sokolov. It was an understatement to say locker 2B had been booby-trapped by a powerful bomb; there wasn’t much left to see of her or the locker. By the sound of the explosion and the tell-tell faint scent of almonds filling the air Sam Lin recognized the signature of the explosive C-4. He also knew C-4 was a military explosive; it was not available to the civilian market; however, something the CIA would have ready access to.

  “Are you okay?” Sam Lin asked, grabbing Si Lei by his arm and dragging him to his feet.

  “Huh, huh, what did you say?” said Si Lei, shaking his head as he jarred it with his hand in a futile attempt to clear his hearing.

  “ARE...YOU...ALL...RIGHT...? He said again louder and slower. His own ears were ringing so loudly he could not tell how loud he was talking.

  “Kat?” Said Si Lei. “Did you say Kat? Sam Lin I think what is left of her is over there,” pointing toward the mangled human form lying where locker 2B previously sat.

  “I said RIGHT! RIGHT!! Si Lei, not Kat! Oh, forget it, come on Brother.”

  Sam Lin grabbed the brown satchel, crammed the folders back inside, pushed open what was left of their protective chain link cage door, and staggered through the dust and smoke towards Kat’s body where he fell on his knees beside her twisted and mangled body. Looking at her, he could tell the search for a pulse would be useless; however, a tiny breath of life remained. She was trying to say something. Bending over, Sam Lin gently wiped the blood from her lips and placed his ear close to her mouth; he slowly nodded his head, “Yes... sure... you got it.” There was nothing they could do, she breathed a couple more shallow breaths and then went limp - she was dead.

  “What did she say Sam Lin?”

  “She whispered, ‘Rousseau... get him...get him... for... me...”

  Her purse had been blown against the wire cage opposite her body - there wasn’t much left of it, but he did manage to find her car keys, “Come on Si Lei we have to get out of here. The Bangkok police will hold us for days, if not weeks, for questioning.”

  As they limped out the front door, they mingled with the crowd of people trying to flee the scene of the explosion along with the curious who had gathered to see what the explosion was all about.

  The time was 7:00 p.m., Saturday, December 1, 2012.

  DEATH ON THE HIGHWAY

  Getting into Kat’s Cadillac they sped away from the Tiboon Condo Town parking lot without trying to attract any attention. They were successful; at least for the moment they thought they were.

  Sam Lin drove to Highway Seven, turned right onto the on-ramp and within a minute or so was in the left lane maintaining the same speed as other vehicles on the eight-lane divided expressway.

  Sam Lin, busy watching the roadway ahead, did not notice the imposing black, Mercedes-Benz sedan swiftly moving up from behind. For a couple of miles, the Mercedes matched their speed but remained close to their rear bumper. Suddenly, the Mercedes darted forward to parallel them in the right lane. If Sam Lin or Si Lei had looked to their right, they would have seen the passenger window being lowered on the mysterious black automobile. In Thailand driving is conducted in the left lane and most automobiles have the steering wheel located on the right side. Kat’s Cadillac had been shipped over from the U.S., and its steering wheel was on the normal American left side. Si Lei was wide awake and trying to ride shotgun for Sam Lin. Something caught his eye and he glanced out his side window just in time to see a passenger in the Mercedes slide the barrel of an imposing, black, automatic assault rifle out the window.

  If Si Lei had not been wide-awake he was now, he yelled, “Sam Lin AK-47!! Look out!! Look out!! A man in this car is aiming a machine gun at us!!”

  Sam Lin without hesitation pushed the accelerator to the floor. The speed limit on the expressway was one hundred twenty kilometers per hour or roughly seventy miles miles per hour. The Cadillac’s 469 horsepower V8 engine almost instantly propelled them to a speed in excess of 100 miles per hour. The Mercedes was not to be outdone - its driver did likewise. The speed increased – 110... 115... 120... at 130 mph Sam Lin would not risk a glance down at the ever increasing numbers on his speedometer; however, ahead on the side of the highway, he saw two signs, one in Thai and one in English. The English version read:

  WARNING

  CONSTRUCTION AHEAD

  LEFT LANE ONLY

  At the exact instant that S
am Lin saw the warning sign, a tremendous flash of brilliant, white light blinded him for a second. “What the... what was that white light Si Lei?”

  “I don’t know brother, but I think someone set off a giant flashbulb! I’m still seeing spots in front of my eyes.”

  Evidently whatever caused the flash of light that blinded Sam Lin also obscured the vision of the black Mercedes causing it to miss seeing the warning sign. It plowed into a parked piece of highway machinery that had been blocking the inside right lanes. Sam Lin could see, from his rearview mirror, the fire combining with the black and blue smoke bellowing from the inferno. No one could have survived that crash, he thought. Fortunately it was Saturday, and no highway workmen were on the expressway repair site.

  Needless to say, Sam Lin and Si Lei did not stop to offer assistance.

  As they sped away from the wreckage, Sam Lin ventured one last glance into his rear-view mirror. What he saw was an unbelievable sight - standing on their side of the tangled mess of wreckage watching them speed away was a diminutive person dressed in a brown overcoat. But what startled Sam Lin the most was... was... the little guy’s hat - an old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hat.

  In less than forty-five minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of the International Airport. Still shaken from the previous experiences they found an empty parking space between two other vehicles. Parked among the other cars they became inconspicuous to anyone passing by. Looking toward the sky, Sam Lin uttered, “Thank you God for fast cars, big bulldozers and old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hats.”

  “Amen,” refrained Si Lei.

  “Si Lei, are you injured? No...? Good, I am not either... just scratches and bruises from the apartment explosion. Thank goodness for the steel wire cage. What? Oh, your ears? Yeah, mine too... I hope the ringing will go away soon too. Okay, give me a stack of those folders and you take a stack. Look for anything you think might be important.”

  “Sam Lin?”

  “Yes, Si Lei.”

  “How will I know what is important?”

  “I don’t know Si Lei,” Sam Lin answered annoyingly, “but you will know it when you see it!”

  For the next couple of hours, they sat hiding in Kat’s car looking at the contents of the manila folders. The files were packed full of information on MK-ULTRA and Doctor Rusnak’s notes on his involvement with the human subjects. Here was definitive proof the CIA, in response to the alleged use of mind-control by the Russians, Chinese and North Koreans on our military prisoners, were trying to develop techniques of their own to use on our enemy captives. Here in front of them were papers and notes documenting the CIA and the Department of Defense’s role in conducting experiments on unwilling human subjects. Human guinea pigs unaware they were being used as part of an extensive program to influence and control human behavior. Behavior they wanted to manipulate and control through the use of mind-altering chemicals such as LSD, heroin, marijuana, amphetamines and other addictive chemical. Different methods of biological and psychological means were used on a regular basis, for years.

  The front of one brown folder was labeled in large red letters, “TOP SECRET” and at the bottom “FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY”. A large round, seal of the United States was embossed in the center. Sam Lin slowly opened the folder. The first sheet of the file read “Human Test Subjects.” Sam Lin began to read, what a revelation, here in Dr. Rusnak’s own handwriting were page after page of human test subjects the CIA had used for illegal and sometimes immoral purposes. Down the list of names he read, all in alphabetical order, Adams, David... Allen, Paul..., Bradley, Ronald on and on the names went. Sam Lin started at the beginning with the As and proceeded to scan down and down the hundreds of subjects until he reached the names starting with the Ls, Ms, Ns and Os.

  “Whoa... whoa!!” he shouted out loud.

  Terrified at the outburst Si Lei turned to Sam Lin and yelled, “What is it Brother? What did you find?”

  “You’ll never believe it Si Lei!!! You’ll never believe it!!! I don’t even believe what I am seeing myself!!!”

  “What? What? Tell me Brother, what is it!”

  “One of the subject’s name they used mind control on was — ”

  “Who? Sam Lin who?”

  Sam Lin slowly read the name, “OSWALD, LEE HARVEY!!”

  The time was 11:05 p.m., Saturday night, December 1, 2012.