The Lesser Evil

by Jim Magwood

  “So, you’re willing to let these vigilantes do the job for you?”

  “That’s where I said before, I don’t know. I know what they’re doing isn’t legally right—taking things in their own hands. But, what can we do? Or should we do? Do we just let the crime go on without doing anything to get it stopped?” He paused. “Yet, sometimes I wonder if that’s just the way it’s supposed to be. I mean, we know there’s evil in the world.

  Always has been; always will be. And maybe taking this kind of vigilante action is just as bad as the people doing it in the first place.” A wondering look crossed his face as he leaned back and looked for a moment at the ceiling. “Perhaps it’s just supposed to be this way, and we shouldn’t be trying to stop people from doing wrong things just to correct other wrongs?

  What do you think? You haven’t said much?”

  “Haven’t needed to. You’ve done a pretty good job of it.

  So. What do you want from me, Mr. Baxter?”

  “I guess right now I’d just like to find some sources that could get me more information on the ‘victims’ of these activities and perhaps lead me toward finding out who this group of vigilantes is.”

  “Tell you what I’ll do. The only way this is going to work is if it’s a two way street. If I’m going to give you anything, then I’ll darn well expect you to keep me in any loops you come up with. You okay with that?”

  “Look. You know I’ve already broken the so-called ‘confidential sources’ rule of the news industry by talking to people like you and D’Arcy. I haven’t held anything back. So, yeah, I’ll share with you, even though I know that’s usually been a one-sided deal with law enforcement. I don’t figure I’m going to find anything you couldn’t find, or don’t already know, but I don’t really intend to get into any legal or criminal searches. Mostly, I think, just background on the people or companies that get caught up in these events. Then, putting out some news stories with what I uncover. So, yeah, I’m willing to share stuff with you if I can just get some deeper information myself.”

  “Okay, we’ll try this for a while. I’ll warn you right now, though, I’ll shut you off in a heartbeat if I ever find out you’re leading me on—and don’t even think I’ll be giving you any confidential stuff. Never! Ever!”

  “I can live that way.”

  “Okay, then when I get back to the office, I’ll fax you a list of a few people around the world who have their ears to the pipelines and who might be able to give you some information. None of it will be any official stuff. They aren’t that kind of people. They’re just folks who do a lot of digging themselves into things going on around them.” He paused.

  “Now, let’s have that Apple Crisp.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Later that afternoon, Henry received the fax from Kincaide listing some government sources and a few private individuals from around the world who had extensive knowledge of things going on in their countries. The sixteenth person on the list was a Dr. Jacob Asch, a professor of Middle East history at the University of Tel Aviv in Israel. When Henry called Asch a few days later, little did he know he would be talking with one of the best deep cover agents who had ever come through the Mossad. Someone who had been directly involved in finding and stopping a group of men who, just a couple of years before, had been intent on taking over the power structure of the entire world. Men located in a place Henry had investigated earlier, Corvalle.

  CHAPTER 21

  NEW YORK TIMES (July 24)

  Corruption at the United Nations

  The UN is being investigated for its dealings with North Korea. The Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations has concluded a study that revealed a UN anti-poverty program in North Korea was manipulated by the rogue nation.

  Apparently, the UN awarded $50,000 to a company with ties to North Korean weapons sales and allowed North Korea to use a UN bank account to smuggle millions out of the country.

  The study revealed an interesting statement by an unnamed official. "North Korean government officials told Senate investigators [the money laundering] transfers were made soon after President Bush declared the country part of an 'axis of evil.'" North Korea utilized the UN account in order "to avoid international scrutiny and possible sanctions that they believed were imminent."

  Much like Iran's reaction to President Reagan's ascension to the presidency, North Korea recognized that President Bush's words were not simply rhetoric without force. America would do well to question whether rogue nations would react with similar fear and trepidation to the current presidential as-pirants.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA (August 16) Jennifer Martins, the founder of a world-wide relief agency providing help to impoverished people, says she doesn’t understand why people of the world have pledged more than $6 billion in aid to "rogue" world leaders she says continually squander the money, stuff it into Swiss bank accounts, or use it to finance terrorist activities. At several conferences in the past few months, people have rallied to support the Egyptian government as they sought help to rebuild the city that has been attacked by the ‘vigilante’ group that has been in the news lately. Thanks largely to the efforts of several prestigious leaders of major countries that have not suffered any terrorist activities, the pledges will be available over the next two years to assist the struggling country.

  Ms. Martins believes the donors are simply not being ra-tional in considering where they send aid. “My question is really, how are people being so deluded as to give to the leaders of these rogue countries when they are continually turning right back around and withholding benefits from their own people or are threatening the rest of the world?”

  She says most of the aid never gets to the people who really need the help. “It just ends up in secret bank accounts and the people continue to starve. Why can we not see that these so-called leaders are simply corrupt, and back completely away from supporting them at all?” She says there are so many agencies that have proven they really do help people with the funds, and donors around the world should stop being swayed by the rhetoric and lies of charlatans and give to those promoting good instead of evil.

  Several world religious and national leaders immediately made statements condemning Ms. Martins’ beliefs and attitudes, and noted that what she had said was “reflective of the very reasons we have trouble in the world today.” One head of a leading religious group that provides aid worldwide said,

  “She makes a major mistake in suggesting we should deny assistance to these people. How are we to make any inroads into helping people to have better lives when we just sling mud instead of stepping into the gap with real aid?”

  CHAPTER 22

  Hector Ramirez sat on the back of the old ranch truck smoking for a long time after he received the radio message.

  He moved little in the heat and appeared to be completely relaxed. His insides, though, had all but melted. He was the one who was going to have to go to Señor Escobedo and bring the news, and he was terrified. Ramirez had lived with pain and death for many years and that alone was not causing him the anguish. He was not the one responsible for the news, but he was the messenger and he knew what had happened to messengers before. He wondered if he should send a message home and have his wife take the children someplace before he saw Escobedo; but then, where would there be anyplace safe if Escobedo directed his anger toward the messenger?

  The last planes had left only an hour ago and the first ones would only now be crossing into Mexico. However, the message had come in right after the last plane had left and it simply said that of the fourteen shipments sent out two days ago, none had arrived. None . “Impossible,” he had thought, and had immediately starting placing calls to the receivers that had been waiting across the borders. They had all moved far inland from the drop zones when the planes had not showed up, but he was able to get hold of all of them. “No, sir,” he had heard from all of them. “The plane did not come in and we heard no message of any kind. We
could not stay in the location any longer or the agents would find us, so we moved to the alternate drop zone. Still, no plane. Are you sure it left for the delivery? Should we wait?”

  Fourteen planes, each with a load of five hundred to a thousand kilos of cocaine. At the expected street value, each plane was carrying upwards of ten to twenty million dollars of cargo for a total of $150-300 million. The planes, if they had indeed been lost, were an almost unnoticeable part of the total value. And, while the actual cost of the drugs was a small part of the street value, both the actual cost to Señor Escobedo and the fact that his dealers would be without supplies was going to… Hector didn’t know what it was going to do to Escobedo, but he did not want to be the one to bring the news. However, he was the one and knew of no way to get out of it. Again, he thought of his family and wondered if he could get home and take them far enough away to not be found? He knew, though, of Escobedo’s long reach and knew there was no place far enough away if Escobedo wanted to find him.

  He slid off the back of the truck, ground out his cigarillo in the dust, leaned over and vomited until there was simply nothing left, and slowly started walking to the main house.

  “You are sure? None of the planes arrived?”

  “Yes, Señor Escobedo. I personally called all the transfer people and they all said the same thing. No plane; no message; what should we do? I called the radios on each of the planes and got nothing. Not even static. The radios were not turned on in any plane. I checked the news broadcasts and called our contacts with the law enforcement agencies, but there is no news of the shipments being captured. I wish I could say it in a better way, Señor Escobedo, but the planes are simply not responding, and after this length of time, they can no longer be in the air. They have either crashed, each one, or they have been taken by someone. I could believe maybe one or two were stolen by the pilots; we have had that happen before. But, not all of them. And they could not all have crashed from engine failure or from running out of fuel. I am very sorry, Señor Escobedo, but I do not know what else to say.”

  Alberto Escobedo sat quietly in his large chair. His quietness had Hector terrified even more than an outburst of his terrible anger. But, he just sat and stared into the massive rock fireplace. Then, he stood and looked at the large map on the wall that pictured the Americas.

  “Have you checked on the planes from six days ago?”

  Hector almost collapsed with relief that he had actually done that. “Yes, Señor Escobedo, I did. They all delivered safely, and most of them have already arrived back here for fresh loads.”

  Escobedo slowly turned to Hector and said, “What about today’s loads? When did the first one leave and the last one?

  Have you checked on them?”

  Hector’s relief evaporated as he had to say, “No, Señor, I have not called them yet. Their radios should not be turned on yet. The first plane left about twenty hours ago and the last one just about an hour ago. They should not turn them on until at least they get close to the drop zones and see some unexpected activity and need to warn the receivers. I do know we have not received any messages from them, though.”

  Escobedo suddenly screamed, “Get on the radios immediately and contact every one of them. Stay on the radio until you hear something one way or another. Let me know immediately as soon as you hear anything at all. Go! Now!”

  Hector didn’t say a word, just turned and ran from the room. He couldn’t understand why Escobedo had not completely exploded, and wasn’t sure he wouldn’t explode in the next few seconds—or two days from now, but he knew that for another moment, he was still alive. He knew, though, that if the answer to the missing planes didn’t show up very soon, someone would not be alive much longer. He knew he didn’t have any answers, and wondered how far he might be able to distance himself from the explosion that would be coming.

  When he got to the radio room, he carefully checked for which planes had left first, and where they should be by now.

  Four out of the eleven were going to drop into transfer points just over the border into Mexico, and two of them should have arrived by now. He got on the radios, not to the planes (which he knew should have the radios turned off), but to the receivers in Mexico. The news he got almost paralyzed him; the first two planes had not arrived yet and it was almost time for the receivers to move so the Federales wouldn’t spot them. Hector tried to keep the fear and trembling out of his voice, but told the receivers to try to contact the planes every fifteen minutes and to call him back in exactly one hour if they hadn’t heard from the planes yet. He called the next receivers in time sequence of possible arrivals and told them the same. “Keep calling the plane and call me back as soon as you hear from it.”

  When the first hour had gone by and the receiver had not yet called, Hector knew the planes were in trouble, and he knew he was, also. Señor Escobedo would be expecting a report within a few minutes now, and Hector already felt like a dead man. The radio buzzed, and he jumped for it like a drowning man for a life preserver. The news, however, just made him sick again. The first receiver had heard nothing and was moving to the secondary drop zone.

  CHAPTER 23

  Henry had spent several days calling the names on the list Ron Kincaide sent him and had gathered a lot of information.

  Nothing detailed on the group, or exposé type material, but a lot of background material that gave perspectives on what had been going on around the world and what the vigilante group seemed to be doing about it. Most of the contacts were am-bivalent about how they felt regarding the group’s activities.

  Some were definitely for law and order, but did see that the group was doing what the authorities apparently couldn’t; others were more in favor of what the group was trying to do, but couldn’t really put their stamp of approval on the way the group was going about it. Nobody was completely willing to say hunt them down and stop them, but none were willing to say let them have at it, either.

  He had put in a call this morning to Professor Jacob Asch at the University of Tel Aviv in Israel, but had caught him in a class, so was waiting for a call back. He didn’t know what a professor might have to tell him about terrorist activities, but Kincaide had him on the list. Henry had risen at about three in the morning to put in the call (What was it, seven-eight hours time difference? ), and was hoping Asch would call him back soon. This trying to keep track of time zones halfway around the world made him tired just thinking about it.

  At just about nine, his phone rang.

  “Mr. Baxter? This is Jacob Asch from Tel Aviv. How can I help you?”

  “Professor, thank you for returning my call. I wasn’t certain about the time differences, but apparently caught you before you headed home?”

  “Yes, I just finished my last class. You are located in Washington, D.C.?”

  “Yes, I am. The sun has just come up here a short time ago, and I suppose it’s just about to go down where you are.”

  “That’s true. What can I do for you?”

  “I don’t know if you know, Professor, but I’ve been writing stories about these so-called vigilante actions going on around the world, and I’ve been trying to get some more information—either on the group itself, or on some of the victims of the actions. A friend of mine here, Ron Kincaide, gave me your name, among others, and suggested you might be able to help. Do you know what I’m speaking of?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve read several of your stories myself. And Ron is a friend of mine, also. Where have you met him?”

  “He works here in Washington. Another friend in law enforcement gave me his name and Ron and I had lunch a week ago. He didn’t, or couldn’t give me any information himself, but did give me your name.”

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Baxter, but I don’t know there is much I can share with you, either. I have been following several of the events through the news, I suppose like many others. But, I really don’t know what I could tell you that isn’t already in the news.”

 
; “I was kind of wondering myself why Ron would give me the name of a university professor. Do you travel a lot, sir? Is that why he might have thought of you as a source of information?”

  “Yes, I have done some extensive traveling, but I haven’t become acquainted with this vigilante group. What is it you are trying to find out, Mr. Baxter? From what I’ve read, it seems as though you’ve been quite a receptacle of information directly from the group as it is. Perhaps you should be sharing news with Mr. Kincaide?”

  “That’s true, professor. For some reason, I was chosen to get reports from them and directed to report the incidents as best I could. I have, in fact, shared that information with our authorities here, and I’m sure they’ve passed on details to others. Ron, though, didn’t ask me for any information, so I would guess he already knows pretty much all there is on the subject. How is it that you know Ron, professor?”