Chapter Six
A remote forest cabin, Douglas County, WI wilderness
Zhu Yeong, somewhat astonished to hear voices and a knock on his door, grabbed his rifle and yelled through the thick split-log entry, “Who’s there? I’ve got a gun!”
“Zhu, its Chu-lin. Bret’s with me. Open up.”
“How do I know it’s you? How did you find me here?” queried a raspy voice.
“I’ll tell you once you let us in. Now please open the door, Zhu. It’s dark, raining, and we’re getting soaked.”
Reluctantly, and with his left shoulder positioned to slam the door shut, Zhu cracked the entry open far enough to see Chu-lin’s face by the reflected light, and a familiar male figure beyond. Satisfied that the strangers were his sister and brother-in-law, he allowed them to pass inside.
After a sibling hug and a handshake with Zhu, Chu-lin and Bret stepped inside. Chu-lin made a beeline for the bench next to a fired-up potbelly stove, while Bret casually looked around the cozy but humbly furnished one-room dwelling. A huge bear rug adorned the floor. A tin plate displaying the head and bones of a partially eaten trout decorated the hand-hewn kitchen table. Two mismatched plastic chairs from another era provided seating.
An old-time kerosene lantern hanging above the table barely provided adequate lighting for mealtime and activity in the adjacent kitchen. Pots and pans hung from wall nails on either side of a stainless steel sink supported by an old rescued two-drawer file cabinet. A garden hose from the sink’s wastewater fixture passed through a wall hole to drain on the ground outside. Quality canned goods stacked on a pair of homemade shelves near the front wall silently spoke of the owner’s ample finances.
Bret’s more diligent upward gaze around the cabin revealed a half-dozen bare low-wattage light bulbs hanging from spaced roofing logs. On the opposite side of the structure, he could see a bed frame, handmade from hewn boards, supported by legs cut from a debarked log. A rustic stool and corner-mounted plank platform served as the desk for a late-model Dell Latitude laptop. Despite the crude woodsy furnishings, Zhu’s appreciation of sleeping comfort was revealed by a Tempur-Pedic mattress label, exposed by an untucked sheet and thrown-back comforter.
“Anyone want a hit,” Zhu asked as he lit up and sat down in the table chair nearest the stove. Bret, now seated next to Chu, flashed a smile at her, showing all his teeth.
“No thanks,” Bret said. Chu just turned away and pouted.
“Sorry about the dim lighting,” Zhu apologized. “I turned off the generator just before you arrived. Saves fuel when I go to bed. I can turn it back on if you want.”
“No, no,” said Chu. “It’s sort of quaint with just the lamp.”
“Before we get into why you’re here, how’d you get to my hideaway so fast?” asked Zhu. “You only phoned me yesterday afternoon.”
Bret responded, “We grabbed a one-way flight from Baltimore to Green Bay, and met a charter plane from there to Port Wing, just north of here. We rented a car and, using our GPS, followed the coordinates you gave us. When we couldn’t get any closer by secondary road, we parked and walked about fifty minutes. So here we are.”
“Well, let’s get to it. Bret, from my sister’s questions over the phone, it appears you’re getting ready to play stupid spy-games again. I don’t hear the news much, or see a regular paper, but even I’m aware of your being captured by ISIS and photographed in an orange jumpsuit.”
“Err … not exactly spy-games, Zhu, but I do need to generate a new identity. Chu-lin mentioned that you started telling her about a ‘breeder document.’ What’s that?”
“Hold on there a minute, Bro. I need to know a little more about what you’re getting my sister involved in again. Give me the facts. Who, what, where, when and why?”
Zhu’s serious inquiry generated an hour-long discussion detailing the history, present situation and plan to thwart the LRA’s intent to acquire surface-to-air missiles, and the Lee couple’s proposed involvement.
“You two don’t fool around with easy stuff. Spy-games aren’t games after all,” commented Zhu, shaking his head, eyes closed in thought.
“Okay now, Zhu, please help us out and tell me about a breeder document.”
“All right, it’s called that because it quite literally can breed new identities. The most common example is a forged, fake or stolen birth certificate. You create a false name and address, and take the breeder to the local DMV and get a driver’s license. Then you take the birth certificate and driver’s license to a passport office, and Voila! You now have a shiny new passport. Neat, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But where do I get a phony birth certificate?”
“I have a contact that can provide a forged one for $200.”
“Oh Zhu,” whined Chu-lin, “you’re not hanging around with those guys again, are you?”
“Nah, not out here in the boonies. But I think I can make it happen by mail.”
“Zhu, that’s great. We’d gladly pay that,” said Bret. “But I wouldn’t want you to take any risks that could put you behind bars for white-collar crime again.”
“Definitely no risk. An old friend, Barry’s his name, owes me a favor.”
Bret reached for his wallet, and noting a nod of agreement from Chu-lin, took out $200 in bills. He handed them to Zhu, saying, “Tell your contact it’s for a fifty-something-year old friend of yours. The name on the birth certificate should be Steffan Doevendans.”
“Where the heck did that name come from?”
“Got it online. Supposedly none other like it.”
Using his pen , he writes the fake name on the back of a business card and hands it to Zhu saying, “I really appreciate your doing this for us.”
“Only because you’ve taken good care of my sister. Besides, I’m uncle to your kids.”
“One other thing,” added Zhu. “You have to establish a new residence somewhere to get that new DMV license. I recommend Sioux Falls.”
Glancing at Zhu’s solo bed, Chu interrupted the discussion. “Bret, the rain’s stopped, and it’s getting dark; we’d better get going.”
“You’d be a lot smarter staying here overnight, Sis. Walking through the wet woods in the dark’s dangerous. Lots of big animals. I’ve got a full-size blow-up mattress that I use occasionally when one of my girlfriends with little kids visits me here. There’s room for it right in front of the stove.”
Bret blurted, “Girlfriends! Plural? You get girls to come out here to the boonies? I’m impressed!”
“Stop it, Bret,” warned Chu, and then said, turning toward Zhu, “Thank you, we’ll stay.”
The visitors agree. Discussions about other ideal places to establish a new residence continued on for nearly an hour more before they broke for sleep.
Chapter Seven
Zhu Yeong’s forest cabin, Douglas County, WI, wilderness
In the morning, Bret and Chu-lin arose at daybreak, quietly exited the cabin, and took an invigorating, hour-long stroll around the heavily treed environs.
“It’s so beautiful here in these woods,” Chu said.
“Yeah, and the air’s fresh, though a little cold for my taste,” he added, “but I wouldn’t mind spending a few hours fishing in that enticing stream we crossed. Zhu probably catches a lot of his mealtime protein there.”
After clambering over a few more dead moss-covered trees, and scaring several squirrels with tossed stones, Bret asked, “What did you think of Zhu’s idea to establish Sioux Falls as our new domicile?”
“I’ve never been to South Dakota,” she said, “but why not? I don’t care where we go.”
“Zhu claimed that many knowledgeable people planning to be ex-pats choose that city,” said Bret. “That’s good enough reason for me. It’s only gonna be a temporary residence anyway. Let’s do it.”
After a wilderness breakfast of smoked trout, wild berries, toast and coffee that Zhu had prepared while they were exploring, Bret and Chu-lin thanked her brother for his
hospitality and started out the door for home. They stopped in their tracks when Zhu, still seated at the table, said, “Wait, I want to go with you, Bret.”
“What? Go with me where?”
“Africa.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” asked Bret, stunned by the reply.
“I want to be your right-hand man. Help you nail that badass dude, Kunga.”
“Good grief, Zhu. You can’t just jump aboard this… this…. mission. It’s dangerous. It could be life-threatening.”
“Why not? It’s still early in the game from what you told me.”
“Well…. I didn’t initiate this. A private agency recruited us. They’re paying Chu and me. They’d have to agree. There’d be no money for you. You don’t have the background experience.”
“I don’t want money. I want adventure. I’ve lived alone out here in the boonies to avoid problems with the law, with old acquaintances. I’m going nuts. I want to do something worthwhile with my life, redeem myself. I need some action.”
Chu-lin joined the conversation, “Bret, I think Zhu could be helpful, especially out there in the African jungle where you’d otherwise be all alone, nobody to help you if you got hurt. Remember, he’s had martial arts training.”
”Bret finally broke several moments of silence. “Tell you what, Zhu. Chu and I will talk it over. Possibly even talk to the people that asked us to do this. Then I promise to get back to you with a decision. Phone you within two weeks, okay?”
“Okay,” responded Zhu. “Watch out for skunks on the way back to your car. They can really mess up your day. Bye, Sis. Thanks for coming.”
* * *
After walking a little less than an hour, Bret and Chu-lin reached the secondary road and soon found their parked rental car. Despite having had to cope with undulating terrain, fallen trees, heavy brush, and knee-high ferns along the way, Chu had continued a stream of chatter extolling the logic of including Zhu as a travel partner in Africa.
“He’s big and strong, Black Belt, and could protect you. Wouldn’t you like a personal bodyguard out there in the jungle? Someone to talk with? You wouldn’t get lonely. And besides, he could carry any heavy stuff you’d have to bring.”
Bret’s silence throughout the wooded trek hid his gradual warming up to the ideas she was promoting. Her final statement especially jolted him awake to the reality that Zhu could indeed shoulder loads that otherwise he’d have to haul himself.
After they were back in the car and en route to Port Wing, Bret concurred, “You’ve shared some darn good thoughts.”
“Thanks, Hon.”
“But let’s not make a final decision about Zhu’s involvement just yet. I think it’s something we should keep in mind, and perhaps discuss with Julien the next time we see him. I’m on board with the idea, however. Let’s see what Julien says.”
Bret changed the subject as they drove along. “I’ve been thinking. Once we get to Port Wing, we’re looking at hours of waiting before we can arrange and catch another charter flight back to Green Bay. We might not even be able to get out until morning.”
“That sucks.”
“Hey, instead of turning this vehicle in, why don’t we just keep it, and drive to Green Bay? It’s less than 300 miles and we’d make it in about five hours. We could find a nice hotel and restaurant for dinner tonight, and catch a flight back to Baltimore tomorrow.”
“Oooh, I like that idea, hon. I honestly wasn’t looking forward to a diner dinner and motel in Port Wing.”
“Okay, then. We’ll stop for gas, and I’ll phone and tell the rental agency we’ll turn the car in at the Green Bay airport. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“I hope they won’t charge us a drop-off fee.”
* * *
At the terminal gate, awaiting the flight to Baltimore, Bret suggested they fill the vacant hours ahead with brainstorming a plan to find Kunga.
“I’ve thought a lot about that over the weeks since Julian first recruited us,” Chu said. “I think you need to fool Kunga first, and then let him find you.”
“Huh?” murmured Bret.
“He has to be led to believe you’re a well-known arms dealer and unprincipled playboy. Then, hopefully, he’ll send his goons to find you and convince you to become his supplier.”
“Seems like an unlikely scenario to me. Just how do you propose we pull off such a scam?”
“Baby, we’d have to catch up with today’s youth, and make good use of social media, like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. Also build a multiple website presence on the internet. Make Whats-His-Name appear on Wikipedia.”
“What are you talking about? How do you know about all this stuff?”
“All those days you’re playing professor or good-guy spy, I’m mothering cool kids that keep their noses buried in their cell phones, tablets and computers. It rubs off on me.”
“Chu, I’ve always trusted your ideas and judgment in the past, but now you’re making me wonder if you’re still in touch with reality.”
“I still am. Trust me enough now to listen while I lay out a rough plan that I think could work.”
“Okay, I’ll listen. Oh, by the way, Steffan’s last name is Doevendans.”
* * *
Hotel Montaigne, 6 Avenue Montaigne, Paris, France
A man standing in a luxury hotel’s hallway, feeling somewhat clumsy in civilian attire, knocks on Room 1401’s door. A male voice within answers, “Juste une minute … j'arrive,” and then cautiously opens it.
Staring at the stranger, he asks, “Oui, je peux t'aider?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t speak French. Do you speak English?”
“Oui, Yes. May I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Ms. Coquelet. Is this her apartment?”
“Yes. I’m Gaspard, her butler. May I tell her who’s here?”
“Say it’s Zuluka.”
“Please excuse me for a minute,” says Gaspard, leaving the stranger standing at the door, as he heads for another room.
In less than a minute, a diminutive elderly woman appears, saying, “Ah, General Zuluka, please come in. Forgive Gaspard for not inviting you in, but that’s the rule when it comes to new faces. Please have a seat on the sofa.”
“Thank you Ms. Coquelet,” says Zuluka, pleased that he is finally approaching the end of his overwhelming mission into contemporary bewildering civilization.
“Please, General, call me Mia.”
Chapter Eight
Aboard a Delta flight from Green Bay to Baltimore
“Just before we boarded Babe, you were about to tell me your plan for using social media. I’m still anxious to hear it.”
“Bret, forging the plan can actually be quite simple if we start at the end and work backwards.”
“Okay, that has the ring of logic. Tell me how, but keep your voice down . . . for our ears only.”
“Yeah, sorry, you’re right.” She lowered her usually exuberant voice level. “We know that Kunga wants to buy a dozen shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles. But apparently he doesn’t yet have an arms dealer who can deliver. The result . . .”
“What would you folks like to drink?” the lovely attendant pushing the cart interrupted.
The Lees made their selections, each delivered along with a bag of peanuts.
Chu-lin resumed after sipping her club soda. “Like I said, the result we both want, I think, is for you to have a dealer identity that is so attractive to Kunga that he literally sends his men to come looking for you.”
“Sure would make things a lot easier for me. Better than trekking around the jungle trying to find him. So what’s your strategy?”
“In their quest, Kunga or his men are quite possibly already searching the internet as one approach to finding a dealer.”
“You mean Googling it?”
“Exactly. If I was one of Kunga’s goons, I would Google arms dealer surface air missiles.”
“Shhhhhh. Hold it down. And
where would Google lead you?”
“Just to a bunch of articles and news stories having something to do with SAMS. Some possibly even mentioning real arms dealers.”
“I doubt that kind of stuff could help Kunga find Steffan Doevendans.”
“Well, hon, I actually tried Google using those very same search words and found articles specifically naming famous arms dealers like Mick Ryan in Britain, a Bedouin dealer known as Abu Ahmed in Gaza, and Victor Bout in Bangkok. Incidentally, two of those three were killed and one imprisoned.”
“Doesn’t sound like becoming an arms dealer is too smart. But, I’m committed anyway. So how do we make Google work for us?”
“We write an article or news story about Steffan that finds its way into their search engine.”
“Makes sense, I guess. How can you assure that’ll happen? ”
“The best way I can think of is to write a Wikipedia article; Google’s search engine would reference that with certainty.”
“Wikipedia? I’ve used it a few times. But I thought all that knowledge came from experts. Can anyone add something to it?”
“They can. But there are very specific hurdles an article must jump, or it’ll be deleted and the contributor banned.”
Bret’s gaze turned away from Chu to look out the window as the plane’s engine sounds changed, and wing flaps started to extend. Landing was fifteen minutes away.
“Hurdles? Like what?”
“Honey, I’m still looking into this. But basically, every statement we make about Steffan What’s-His-Name needs a footnote – an online reference.”
“Please, Babe, it’s Doevendans.”
“Gotcha, but from now on, let’s just call him Steve. Okay?”
“Okay. So where do the references come from?”
“We not only write the Wikipedia feature, we also need to write all of the supporting reference articles. And also develop business websites, and compose a stream of social media posts as well. And it all needs to pass the sniff test.”
“You mean, convincing a Kunga investigator that what’s written is authentic? Seems a bit shaky to me.”
Ghost of Africa Page 3