The Cygnus Agenda

by Richard Martin

  “So if that was your concern, why not get the hell out beforehand?”

  “Not that easy in those parts.”

  “Easy enough that you got out after the explosion.”

  “Wise up, lady. Unless you`ve been there, on the ground, face to face with these people, you don`t know what you`re talking about.”

  “I`m talking about you being a cold blooded psycho. That`s down to you, not them!”

  “Look, you judgemental bitch, it didn`t start that way and I sure didn`t know it was going to end that way.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You were the top guy there, controlled everything. Blowing up that mine was planned and executed by you. So don`t try that bullshit with me!”

  A resigned look and a slight shrug met the interrogator`s accusing stare, triggering a level of anger in her that was barely under control. The horrific nature of the act perpetrated by the man in front of her was one thing, the explanation offered and total lack of contrition quite another. But worse than that was what she had to do. She had battled her superior as hard as she could, using every ounce of moral conscience she could muster, but when it came to matters that high up, the effort proved useless.

  All she could do was let the man stew for a bit, fret over what his fate might be. As a senior player in Israeli security she had met several people who lacked any trace of empathy for others, and sitting before her was another. Only if she could send the man back to Namibia would the requirement of justice be met and that was not going to happen. Not unless the man was a suicidal psychotic, and that staying alive, with $27million in diamonds, held no interest for him.

  She left the room for almost an hour, in a last ditch attempt to persuade her superior, then returned in an even more agitated state. Without looking at him, sensing his eyes following her, she drew up the wooden chair, ignoring the screeching sound on the floor. Back in front of the desk, trying to restrain her impulses and control her frayed nerves, she took a few moments to stare at the man opposite.

  “That I don`t like you must be evident,” she said, “but that would be inaccurate. I despise you to a degree I never thought possible. People like you cause immense damage and suffering to others, and if I had my way I would personally accompany you back to Namibia. So that given the chance, I could shoot you dead like the piece of shit you are.”

  Now the man showed a clear sign of relief in his eyes, a twitch appearing at the edge of his mouth as if he was holding back a grin. “You need me for something, don`t you? What a break for me, and judging by your expression, a little annoyance for you.”

  Feeling her hands tighten into fists, the woman drew them back from the desk`s surface and let them fall by her side. “I have a handgun in this drawer, and right now the price might just be worth it, so tread carefully you murdering bastard.”

  “Every intention,” the man said. “I may be a murdering bastard, but not a stupid one.”

  The tension in the air was increasing, and now she felt a moment of madness beckon, the mutual staring adding to the danger. With a husband and three children at home, the woman knew she wouldn`t do it, but she gleaned a sliver of satisfaction from knowing the man couldn`t be sure. With no option but to follow orders, she opened a paper file brought from her superior`s office, placed it on the desk then read out a few sentences.

  Momentarily struck by what he was hearing, the man let out a sigh that betrayed his relief. “You`re letting me return to America?”

  “It`s your home country isn`t it?”

  “Along with Israel. Which is why I came here from Namibia.”

  “That you were born in Israel is a disgrace to this country, and that you have internationally recognised rights to remain here is also a disgrace. But in your case, let me assure you that Israeli government mistakes can be made, and you being ‘accidently’ returned to Namibia is still a possibility.”

  By now both of them knew that to be a hollow threat, but nonetheless, the woman`s tone still held a scintilla of doubt for the man, especially as he hadn`t yet been told the inevitable conditions that would apply. And they weren`t long in coming.

  “There are conditions,” the woman said.

  “I see. Presumably, do as we say or else type of conditions. That right?”

  “Yes, that`s right, and it makes me sick that a piece of scum like you is given that option.”

  “Then what is it you want from me and what price do I pay?”

  “It`s a contribution, not a price. To the future security of Israel. You will find out the details over a period of time. Time spent here with us.”

  “Interesting. And what about my diamonds?”

  The reply was spoken with emphasis on the first word. “Your diamonds?”

  “Yes, my diamonds. They`re not yours are they? Unless the great State of Israel is going to perform an act of blatant theft.”

  “The diamonds are criminal proceeds and should be returned to their rightful owner, but that would mean ending up in the hands of the very people who conspired with you to steal them from the Namibian people. So, luckily for you they will form part of your release deal. A deal that will provide you with a very comfortable lifestyle and a position in society that will involve the acquisition of power. That will be achieved through your skill at being a ruthless psychopath. But everything we demand of you, everything, you will do. Understand?”

  “I understand that anything asked of me that prevents my return to Namibia is a yes. How much of my $27million do I get to keep?”

  The woman hesitated. “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  $5 million will be used to buy you a house in Washington D.C. and the rest fed to you at $1million a year. You`re 37 years old, so by the time you`re sixty you will have had it all. But by that time you will have much more than money.”

  He was about to respond but sharply cut off, as the woman raised her voice.

  “And if at any time your program is deviated from, you will lose everything. And that includes your life. Do you understand? The State of Israel will own you, in every sense. On every occasion you will carry out our instructions exactly as we say. Exactly!”

  “My God, what the hell do you people have in mind for me?”

  “An objective that will advance the security of Israel, your mother country. Nothing else.”

  “Why me? Why a psychotic, murdering bastard like me, as you like to put it?”

  “Because we know what you are capable of.”

  “And?”

  “You are not only Jewish, but come from a well connected and respected American family. Your parents are dead and as an only son you have had almost no contact with your few and distant family connections. Your university days at Princeton resulted in a lot of friendships, valuable ones, people who now hold high political positions. Having been in Namibia for fourteen years, not many will easily recognise you, but these contacts will be extremely important.”

  “Why, what can they do for me? More accurately, what can they do for you?”

  “That`s to do with the nature of your objective and how you achieve it.”

  “Sounds ominous, even sinister.”

  “What it is should not concern you. Only the no-going-back decision you must make, here and now.”

  He shrugged. “There is no decision. For that, there would need to be a choice, and as you well know, there isn`t one.”

  “If that`s a yes then you need to know that months of rigorous training will be required, training in things that may shock even you.”

  “Again, I see no choice.”

  “Perceptive. But understand this. You will be ours, every part of you. And every instruction you are given in America will be carried out without hesitation or you will be terminated. Got that?”

  “Oh, I`ve got it all right. This psychopath, as you have already called me, can now s
ee exactly why you want me. So can we cut the threatening bullshit, get our new partnership under way, whatever your name is. Presumably I have to sign something.”

  “You sign nothing. And as much as my career may depend on your success, I sincerely hope you mess up. I hope and pray that justice catches up with you, one way or the other, and if I have the slightest opportunity to assist in that, it will be grabbed.”

  “Now who`s the psychopath?”

  The woman did not reply as they once again stared at each other, the small crack of a smile now appearing on the man`s face, stretching every sinew of her self-restraint. What she had done was not only utterly repugnant to her, but had instilled a deep sense of foreboding. It was a feeling that would haunt her nation`s desperate gamble on a man perfect for the job, yet as flawed and dangerous an individual as anybody could be so unfortunate to come across.

  CHAPTER 1

  Life had been difficult for Jessica Hahn since being fired from the Seattle Chronicle almost three years ago. Canned not for being wrong but for being right, had hurt at the time and still did. And on this fine June day in 2021, her financial position was dire, journalistic career essentially in the toilet. Had it not been for Harry Dryden, her former editor, who was fired alongside her and had financed the Cygnus investigation the year before, she would be a full-time waitress. But now, out of the blue, Harry had called her with another assignment in prospect.

  Pulling up at his log cabin, forty six miles north east of Seattle, she sat in the car for a moment and assessed the single storey, log structure which was built on stilts and with full height glass windows. In the distance, through a gap in the tall pines, a glimpse of Mount Hood could be seen, the summit still showing a dusting of winter snow that had clung on through mid summer.

  As she stepped from her car, an eighteen year old Chevy with a selection of dings and dents, rust showing on the edges of all four doors, she watched Harry Dryden appear on the front stoop and looked over at her. “Good to see you, Jessica,” he hollered into a near perfect silence, broken only by the rustle of surrounding trees.

  Closing the car door, Jessica returned the greeting. “Good to see you too, Harry. Been a while.”

  She stood for a moment, assessing the change in him. His gray hair was thinner, the length making it wispy and easily blown around in the light breeze of late afternoon. He was even more stooped than she remembered, his tall frame leaner, almost skinny. Harry Dryden was showing signs of letting himself go. Losing his wife so soon after being fired from the Chronicle had led to a life that was now essentially reclusive, and it showed.

  Taking off her lightweight summer jacket and folding it across her arm, Jessica entered the open plan lodge and turned to Harry. “Don`t you get lonely up here all by yourself?”

  “Never get lonely with mother nature around me. Birds in the trees, fish in the creeks, all sorts of critters passing by. Better than folks, because they never annoy you, never let you down and don`t get on your nerves.”

  “Same old Harry. You were just like that as an editor.”

  Smiling at their exchange, Jessica sat on one of the two couches that were way past the stage of being well worn, watched Harry throw a couple of logs on the fire, then turn to her. “That`ll warm things up. And now, young lady, we need to talk.”

  “I`m hoping this is about an assignment, Harry. Is it?”

  “It`s about the start of one. Where it goes from there and what the hell we might find is not only a big unknown, it`s conceivably a big dead end. But if my hunch is right and we get some traction, it could be a biggie. Folks would rightly say that I`m just an angry old newspaper editor who doesn`t know when to give in. But when bad people do bad things I still get all fired up about it. And yes, Jessica, the lure of a potential blockbuster story still gets my motor running.”

  “Glad to hear it, Harry. First off, tell me if it`s going to be dangerous. After the last two assignments I don`t want any more nasty surprises like they turned out to be.”

  “Can never guarantee that, Jess. From what I know, though that ain`t much, I reckon it`ll be dangerous alright. Which is why I need to know if you`re still in touch with Arnie.”

  “Arnie? This one needs Arnie?”

  “For sure! You know how to get hold of him?”

  “I guess. But he could be riding the range on that Harley of his and be either side of the Rockies. And he may not come running this time. He went back to the Justice Department because cash was running out, then quit after 8 months. Couldn`t hack it anymore.”

  “Well on this one we`ll need his ability to get to people when others can`t, and as usual, ask questions he shouldn`t.”

  “Well, one thing Arnie Krench excels at is asking questions and they`re usually ones he already knows the answer to. He figures that lies tell him more than the truth does. Some see him as a laid-back kind of guy and think he`s a nobody. Big mistake, cause he`s way smarter than most people.”

  “Why we need him on this, Jess. That and the fact you two get along real well. ”

  “Too well. We got close, intense, then crashed and burned like a couple of college kids in their first relationship.”

  “Both survived didn`t you? Got over it.”

  “Yeah, we did that alright. Straightened ourselves out and get along just fine now.”

  “So you`ll get hold of him, persuade him to hook up again?”

  “Come on, Harry, you know him almost as well as I do. Arnie Krench never gets persuaded to do anything. He`s his own man.”

  “But it`s you who`ll be doing the asking. That makes a difference, right?”

  “I`d like to think so. But with Arnie, nothing`s a given. And I`ll tell you right now, no Europe trips like the Hydrax affair, or Honduras and that Cygnus nightmare. He hates being out of the U.S., especially on assignments. Any foreign connection with this one?”

  “Namibia!”

  “What? Somewhere in the south of Africa? No way, Harry. He won`t go for that, not a chance. And I`m none too sure myself. Namibia, for Christ`s sake!”

  “Don`t worry, no need to go there, Jess. It`s where this thing started, that`s all. What we need to know is right here in the U.S., in L.A. and that`s where Arnie`s connections will be an advantage.”

  “So what`s in L.A.?”

  “Killings! Two of them. Side by side, and not what they look like.”

  Jessica pushed forward on the couch, eyes widening. “Killings? Isn`t that police work?”

  “Yes, but the police conclusion may be wrong. They have it down as a mistaken identity drive-by shooting. It may not be.”

  “Let`s hear it then, Harry. What`s got you biting on it?”

  “You remember Senator Claibourne, who helped us with the Hydrax investigation?”

  “Sure.”

  “He`s retired now and not in good health. We`ve been good friends a long time and keep in touch. Two days ago he called me from his home in Connecticut to say he`d received a puzzling letter from a woman in Namibia. A woman who`s been under government house arrest for seventeen years and has made an astonishing assertion about those killings in L.A. Do you remember the two sixty-seven year old men gunned down in a park, last month? Old friends who`d met up that day, one flying in from Colorado.”

  “Sure. And the mistaken identity theory I read about looks sound.”

  “Maybe looks it, but isn`t, at least according to the Namibian woman.”

  “And how sound is she?”

  “Senator Claibourne had an old government connection check her out and he thinks she`s credible. And why would anyone make such a claim if it wasn`t true, makes no sense.”

  “So what`s this woman actually saying?”

  Harry took a moment. “That it was a hit.”

  “A hit?”

  “All linked to a Namibian diamond mine explosion eighteen years ago and covered up by a corrupt
government. She was the sister of a maid who was murdered along with the wife of the mine`s managing director.”

  “Jesus, if this is all connected then it could be one hell of a story. Did the woman`s letter say who the men were?”

  “It said they were both engineers at the mine, arrested after the explosion that killed a whole bunch of people. They were jailed for ten years before being released and returned to the U.S.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. After the call to the senator the woman seems to have disappeared, with no further communication.”

  “So she`s been silenced? That the thinking?”

  “It`s what Senator Claibourne thinks.”

  Jessica leaned back into the couch and raised her eyebrows. “Not much to go on, but I`m all in on this one, Harry because I have to catch a break in my career, my disappearing career, and this is just what I need. But I`m broke, so I`ll need all the costs to met by you. That okay?”

  “Got no need for money these days, Jessica, and no better way to spend it than finance an investigation. What I`ve lived for my whole life. And if you win out on this one, all the story`s syndicated rights are yours and Arnie`s. You good with that?”

  “More than good. It`s a generous offer and I`ll get a story out of this one way or another.”

  “Then that just leaves Arnie. You need to find him.”

  “These days I never know where he is. But I`ve got a contact number. He always said he`d come running if I needed him. Let`s see if that still holds.”

  “Well the investigation trail starts in L.A. and that`s his backyard, where he`s got the right contacts. The L.A.P.D. report will soon be gathering dust, no time and money spent on a suspected drive-by. And even if they knew about the Namibia connection they`d still stack it.”

  So you want me to turn Arnie loose on one of his police connections, see what gives? Pretty long shot for an investigation that`s got nothing to go on.”

  “That`s how all the blockbuster stories start, Jessica, you know that. And there`s no one better than you and Arnie for getting some traction. We`ve been up a few dead-end streets together but I feel it in my gut that this one`s going to fly.”