“No. They just referred to them as the ‘drop’.”
Wade wanted to know more about the new arrival. “Who is Stephan?”
“First time I’ve heard his name, but he’s arriving in Belize from Panama by way of Germany. He must be part of the operations team.”
“Did Condor mention anyone else?”
“No, but I got the sense that Mashburn didn’t know this Stephan guy. He asked Condor to spell his name and give him a description. They had a bad connection. The way they talked, I think Stephan could be the guy in charge of the Belize operation. I think there’s something else going on between Stephan and Condor, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I monitored another call between Stephan and Condor. They talked about Phase 2 and disposal of a body near the creek at a rest area off Hummingbird. It seemed like Hummingbird was a code name for something. I didn’t understand it.”
“No, Hummingbird is a highway that runs north and south from Belmopan. I wonder if they could have been talking about what will become of Mashburn’s body.”
“I’m not following you, boss.”
“Look, Mashburn is a liability to Condor. Stephan may be here to disrupt the war games and then take out Mashburn. That location is where a body would be easily found. Perhaps they plan to give authorities a lead following whatever destruction they’re planning. After all, he is, or was, CID – Army intelligence. If he’s found dead with some incriminating evidence on him, it solves Condor’s problem about what to do with Mashburn. He knows too much. That’s why Mashburn is out of the loop on everything. He may be part of this set up - only he doesn’t know he’s the one taking the fall.”
“Wow. That’s heavy stuff.”
“It’s still speculative on my part. I just know I’ve got to make my move on Mashburn before Stephan arrives. My guess is the other operatives will be working under Stephan. Timing is everything right now.”
“What about the other operation? Won’t your moving in on Mashburn alert them?”
“Maybe not. It depends on how I handle Mashburn. I’m still thinking that through. Pretty soon things are going to get a lot hotter down here.”
“I know you can handle it, partner. I’ll keep monitoring, and we’ll talk soon.”
The next day Mashburn went out for his usual late afternoon walk and dinner outing. Wade didn’t want to take the chance that Mashburn might remember his face even though their only encounter at Benning had been brief. Just in case Mashburn got a glimpse of him, Wade wanted the added protection of a disguise. Wade gained access to the house with his key and had thoroughly searched it long before Mashburn returned from his evening dinner.
He found among other things a Walther 9mm semi-automatic pistol in a holster taped to the back of the bedside table, easily reachable from Mashburn’s bed. The contents of several large suitcases were spread across the living room floor, revealing several weapons broken down into component parts. The stash included a silenced sniper’s rifle with a high-powered scope and lots of ammunition. There were also night goggles, fake IDs, passports, and maps of Belmopan, Belize City, and Ambergris Caye, which Wade quickly reviewed.
A search of Mashburn’s bedroom revealed more papers taped under one of the dresser drawers. Written in Spanish, they looked like details of the Spain assignment. Removing the tape, Wade folded and pocketed the documents for later translation and review.
The biggest surprise came when Wade found three interesting medicine vials cooling in the refrigerator. An assortment of needles and syringes were lying among utensils in a kitchen drawer not far away. He examined the vials; each contained a solution of a different color. These didn’t look like street drugs or prescription medicine. The silver metal ring clamp holding the soft gray rubber top for needle access had clearly been professionally manufactured. He hid the vials, syringes, and needles close to where he was going to interrogate Mashburn.
Wade thought, Perhaps these are the same or similar drugs used on Lockhart or ones left over from the Spain assignment. What are they? And how are they used?
Wade removed a pillowcase from one of the bedroom pillows. He found more papers under the mattress, which he also folded and pocketed. There were no weapons in the other bedrooms.
A notepad, pen, and small tape recorder were placed on the seat of a chair next to where Wade would interrogate Mashburn. Based upon his previous pattern, Mashburn was expected to arrive at any time. Wade checked his disguise one last time in Mashburn’s bathroom mirror.
Slightly pulling back on the side of the curtain Wade checked both windows out to the driveway. He double checked the molding around the side door for wires and looked for camera and listening devices.
It wasn’t long before Wade heard Mashburn’s car come to a stop in the driveway. The engine shut off and there was dark silence in the house. Wade could hear his heart beating faster. He felt the tension as the key slipped into the door lock and turned.
As Mashburn’s hand reached in for the light switch on the wall he felt a cold, round cylinder pressed firmly against the back of his skull.
The voice from behind him said, “Don’t turn on that light if you want to live.”
Mashburn quietly raised both hands over his head without being asked. Pushing Mashburn from behind, Wade walked slowly to a chair already pulled out from the dining room table. Wade firmly shoved Mashburn into the seat.
Believing he was being robbed, Mashburn spoke in a quivering voice. “I don’t have much money here, but you can have everything I have.”
There was no reply to Mashburn’s plea. Wade gave a strong command in a voice deeper than his natural tone. “Sit still in the chair without turning your head.”
Wade kept the gun pressed into Mashburn’s back. Strips of silver duct tape were already hanging from the table’s edge.
“Wrap the tape tightly around your right hand and the arm of the chair and don’t speak.”
When Mashburn finished strapping his right arm to the chair, Wade slipped the dark pillowcase over his head before turning on the overhead light. The pillowcase had already been checked to make sure the weave was open enough to breathe, but wouldn’t allow facial recognition of an image on the other side of the fabric.
Wade tightly wrapped Mashburn’s left wrist to the chair arm. Then he also wrapped both of Mashburn’s arms to the chair just below the elbows.
The strapping was done in silence as he secured Mashburn’s legs to the chair, wrapping them just above the ankles and again just below the knees. The heavy, carved Spanish chair with Mashburn taped to it became a single solid structure that wasn’t going anywhere.
After Mashburn settled for a few minutes, he mustered enough courage to ask a few questions in Spanish, trying to determine if the intruder naturally spoke Spanish. Obviously Mashburn still thought it was a robbery. Wade understood Mashburn’s questions but didn’t reply.
Wade imagined the man’s mind running through a progression of questions, trying to assess his position and options: Did the intruder already search the house for money? Did he see the weapons still on the living room floor? Could he buy off the intruder? The fact that he had not already been shot suggested there might be hope for negotiation.
Chapter 19
Wade’s next words caused Mashburn to rethink his robbery theory. His captive’s voice was strong, speaking American English with only a slight hint of a southern accent.
“Listen, Mr. Mashburn or Ramos, or whatever your name really is, we have to talk.”
Mashburn was clearly confused and unsettled. His work on the dark side had never before included capture.
“If you want money, I can….”
Wade interrupted. “Quiet. I will tell you exactly what I want from you, and you will listen very carefully without speaking, or your life will end here and now. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
Mashburn was already trying to rethink his previous assumptions. His mind jumped to “intell
igence personnel.” He knew there might be no negotiation under an intelligence scenario. Compared to robbery, the thought of surviving an intelligence capture made him sick to his stomach. He asked himself why he wasn’t already dead, and whom he might have infuriated. The list was too lengthy to comprehend, but he kept coming back to his recent assignment in Spain.
Wade allowed the silence to continue. He knew exactly what Mashburn was thinking. The list of intelligence sources that might capture him was growing. Wade could tell that the silence was getting to Mashburn, but he let him stew before he finally spoke.
“The reason you’re not already dead is because I want information. My assignment is to get truthful information from you – or eliminate you as I see fit, so you’re no longer a problem to my current employer. Do you understand that?”
The pillowcase bobbed up and down acknowledging his agreement.
“I want you to understand that I may still eliminate you after you give me the information I need. You’ll just have to take that risk. If you choose not to provide me with truthful information, I can assure you that your death will be drawn out and very painful. You will never leave this room alive. Do you understand me?”
Mashburn’s head once again bobbed vigorously up and down. To emphasize the point Mashburn also muttered a squeaky, “Yes.”
Robbers could often be paid off, but covert intelligence operatives have different agendas, including torture. Mashburn had concluded he was at the mercy of a covert hit man, which actually made him quiver in his chair. The thought sent cold chills down his warm body. He gritted his teeth, shivering as though a sudden blast of arctic air had blown over him. Wade’s message was clear enough.
The irony of his life ending at the hands of a covert black ops agent using torture techniques raced through his mind. Mashburn saw the faces of people he’d terminated pass before him. His mind kept coming back to the simple option before him. If I don’t cooperate, I’m dead the hard way. I may be dead anyway, but at least I have a chance of living longer if I keep talking.
With a shaking voice, Mashburn mustered enough courage to ask, “Are you an American?”
“My nationality is not important. Let’s just say we work for similar employers. No more questions on your part. I want you only to listen and answer the questions I’m going to ask. If I find you’ve lied to me about anything, you’ll make my job of eliminating you quick and easy. As long as you give me truthful and complete information, you’ll live. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“In my hand I’m holding the 9mm Walther P-38 that was taped behind your nightstand.”
The next noise Mashburn heard was the unmistakable sound of the breach of his pistol sliding a round into the chamber. The cold, hard barrel of his own gun pressed against his head.
“Your gun has a round in the chamber, and the safety is off. It also has a silencer. In case you’re wondering about noise, I also have a pillow from the living room in my other hand, and I’ll place it between the barrel and your skull to muffle the sound even further.”
Wade slapped Mashburn in the head with the pillow. Mashburn recoiled from the blow like it had been an anvil. He nervously racked his brain, trying to determine which agency sent this man and what his fate would be, no matter how he answered. He was even more convinced than ever that the longer the questions kept coming, the longer he’d stay alive.
“We’re going to start our discussion with a little history. You were in Vietnam between 1971 and 1973 for two tours of duty as a medic. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to tell me how you went from being a medic to a spy.”
“I was serving under Colonel Mark Baker in a forward Medivac command unit on the border of Cambodia and Vietnam. It was bad. We couldn’t keep up with the wounded. We didn’t have enough medical staff or supplies on hand to help everyone. It got to the point where I couldn’t take the stress anymore.
“One of my wounded men told me about a supply of morphine derivative drugs that was available out of Cambodia. He put me in touch with an intelligence officer by the name of Daniel Spencer. At least, I think he was CIA, not Army intelligence.”
Mashburn paused, hoping Wade was listening to the details.
“Continue.”
“I connected with Spencer, and he put me in touch with a local Vietnamese source that had access to those drugs. Spencer took care of the payments to the supplier. We started giving the drugs to the patients with the worst wounds, to ease their pain.”
Reliving the experience, Mashburn had to take a breath. His anxiety was affecting his speech. Vietnam had been a long time ago. During the pause, Mashburn wondered if his captor had something to do with Vietnam. He regained enough composure to tell himself, Just keep talking.
“After a while, Spencer had me distribute drugs to some infantrymen who weren’t wounded. These guys were paying me the money, and I was delivering it to Spencer. The next thing I know, my commander and Spencer got me transferred out of my medic unit to an Army intelligence unit, where I reported directly to Spencer. I soon got to the point where I was delivering drugs and picking up money full time for Spencer and my commander.
“I believe Army command knew all about it. No one seemed to be asking me any questions or bothering me. One day, Spencer came to me and said that Command was doing an illegal drug trafficking investigation. They were looking for scapegoats in a military drug scandal, and I was one of the targets.”
“Spencer told me I could no longer stay in my current unit. He got me transferred to another Army intelligence special ops unit that reported to someone in the States. The next thing I knew I was transferred out of Vietnam and doing intelligence work in different countries. At that time it was mainly document drops for CID command.”
“What happened next?”
“When my Vietnam tour ended, I was sent to CID training school and then back into the field in different countries. With my background as a medic, they trained me on the use of a new line of ‘wonder drugs’ Army intelligence was using.”
“Was Spencer the same guy who sent the Army recon mission out on patrol that got them all killed?”
“Yeah, he’s the one.”
“Is that where you met Lockhart?”
Mashburn hesitated. Lockhart’s name hadn’t been mentioned before, but he assumed his interrogator already knew about Lockhart and Spencer by the way he asked the questions.
“Yeah. He never really recovered from Vietnam. He blamed Spencer and my commander for the deaths of his platoon. He claimed he knew everything about the drugs coming in from Cambodia and how Spencer was obtaining them and making a fortune.”
Wade thought Mashburn’s story was too rehearsed and defensive about his own role. He changed the subject to throw him off guard.
“What was your assignment in Spain?”
“I was assigned to covertly assist the Franco government.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No, I’m not.”
Wade put the 9mm against Mashburn’s temple. “Let’s go over that last question again, unless you want to die now. Franco has already killed 300,000 of his own countrymen. He’s perfectly capable of killing anyone he wants to in his country. Why would he need you or the U.S. to do his killing for him?”
“These were special assignments when he didn’t want his men involved in the terminations.”
“That doesn’t sound right. You’d better come up with a good example.”
“There was a former general in his army by the name of Salino, who changed political affiliation and then left the country just before Franco took over. Salino was a popular political figure in Spain and was coming back into the country to oppose Franco. That was a threat to Franco and my most recent target. He didn’t want his regular men to handle it.”
“Who did you work for in Spain?”
“I worked for President Franco’s security officer General Juan Carlos.”
“I still think you’re lying about Spain, but we’ll come back to that topic in a moment.”
While Mashburn was speaking, Wade had checked his notes and the recorder. Wade continued to break up the sequence of his questions.
“Who do you work for in the U.S.?”
“That’s a good question. I’m not trying to be evasive. I’m officially undercover operations for CID, but I’ve been farmed out. I’m now reporting to a handler in Brussels. I just know him through his code name, Condor. I no longer have any direct contact with CID in the U.S.”
Wade felt Mashburn’s last answers were mostly truthful, or he at least was sticking to a well-rehearsed cover story. Wade changed the direction of his questions again to ones he already knew the answers for, to see if Mashburn was lying.
“Have you ever been to Fort Benning?”
“No, I don’t think so. Is that in Alabama or Georgia?”
“You’re lying to me again.”
“No, I just can’t remember.”
“Well, we’re going to have to improve your memory. I have something here on the table that might help. I’ve got three strange-looking unmarked medicine vials that I found in your refrigerator, along with some syringes from the kitchen drawer. One vial has a clear liquid in it. The second has a cloudy gray solution, and the third has a milky white solution in it.
“Since you claim you’re not lying, and I don’t trust what you’ve already said, I can’t trust you to tell me what’s in these vials. I think the only way to find out what they contain is to do some experimentation. I’m loading a syringe with the cloudy gray solution now and will soon be injecting it into you.”
“If that injection doesn’t do anything to help your memory, we’ll try the next one. I think by the time we get to the third one, perhaps your memory will improve – or you won’t be around to worry about it.”
“You can’t do that. The solution will kill me.”
“That sounds like a truthful answer.” Wade pressed the end of the needle against Mashburn’s arm, slightly penetrating his skin. “Let me repeat my question about Fort Benning.”
Lethal Authority (Wade Hanna Series Book 2) Page 16