Justification For Killing

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Justification For Killing Page 23

by Larry Edward Hunt


  “Folks, I jotted down this note while sitting in Jack Ruby’s Carousel Club on Thursday the day before President Kennedy was killed. The name was seen by one of the Carousel waitresses Miss Linda Lou Dearmann, known professionally as Kandy Barr, as she was delivering a drink to the table where Jack Ruby was talking to six of his friends, all bosses of the Cosa Nostra. The name Miss Dearmann saw was MK-ULTRA. I am not sure what it means.”

  “Captain,” said Sam Lin, “I too have heard that name - in Bangkok at our CIA headquarters building. I wasn’t assigned to that particular project, but I did put two and two together and figured out it was a black ops, hush-hush, need-to-know only, operation.”

  “You’re right Sam Lin, I too have heard of MK-ULTRA,” added Si Lei.

  “Sam Lin, Si Lei we need you to catch the next flight out to Bangkok. Turn over every rock, call in every favor you might have over there but find out about MK-ULTRA. And find out if Mr. Ryan Rousseau had any connection to it. If he did, what was his involvement? It’s a strange coincidence that the word MK-ULTRA was being used in Dallas, Texas in 1963 by a bunch of Mafia bosses, and the CIA, in Southeast Asia, was mixed up in the same project in 1967. You acknowledge I do not believe in coincidences. I believe where there’s smoke there’s fire and gentlemen I’m beginning to detect the aroma of smoke coming from Mr. Ryan Rousseau’s direction.”

  “Grandpa, you said you had a plan to uncover the saboteur in our lab. What are you going to do?” Asked Gabby.

  “Nothing, right now, we have a number of projects connected to the Kennedy assassination to complete before attempting another Pegasus flight. Utmost is the data I believe Sam Lin and Si Lei will uncover in Thailand concerning Rousseau. I have been thoughly acquainted with this man, as have Sam Lin and Si Lei, but as well as I have known him I now believe he is hiding something. Something so sinister that he is willing to kill to keep secret.”

  “Are you serious Captain?” asked Sam Lin.

  “That’s your mission -- find out!! Krista has you and Si Lei booked on a flight out of here tomorrow at 0700 on American Airlines 4446 to Washington, D.C. From there you grab a Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong. From there you will proceed to Bangkok. Have a pleasant flight - and get information on Ryan Rousseau. There’s more to this man than meets the eye, you just need to find out what it is. Oh, by the way, you will probably need some help in Bangkok. Those CIA types can get out of hand sometimes. I’ve got a couple of guys I’m going to sent over to work with you two... they should be there in a few days.”

  “Who are they Captain?”

  “Lonnie Joe Wheeler and Rocky Jolliet. We worked with them on the Egyptian expedition last year, both ex-Special Forces, and definite assets if you get into trouble over there. I’d rather we wait and send all four of you together, but I believe it is important to get our ‘boots on the ground’ over there as soon as possible. You two go on ahead and get the operation started, and I will get Wheeler and Jolliet over there as soon as possible to help”

  MORE ASSIGNMENTS

  Reaching back into the overalls he pulled out a second colored napkin. Slowly Captain Scarburg unfolded the rose piece of paper and began to read the names he had written on it at Jack Ruby’s place also. The main difference this slip of napkin had names that were recognizable. He had taken the information supplied by Linda Lou word for word; he did not want to miss anything. He began to read: “ ... the one sitting on Jack’s right is Sam Giordino. He’s from Chicago. Next to Sam is Johnny Russolli out of Las Vegas, and I believe he has something to do with the mob in Hollywood. Then it’s Santo Riccocante from Tampa. Next, the guy smoking the cigar is Carlos Mancini. I believe I have heard he’s from New Orleans, and the guy wearing the sunglasses is Angelo Marino from somewhere up north, Philadelphia I think.”

  Spook spoke up, “Captain, I’ve heard about these guys and you are right they are Cosa Nostra. I would like to discern their connection with Ruby too.”

  “Good Spook, you are one step ahead of me. I thought you and Tinker would be the perfect ones to dig up dirt on these mobsters. Spook, with your CIA experience you could pull these bugs out into the light without arousing any noticeable suspicions. There is a CIA connection to the assassination somewhere – we just need to find it out. I’m almost certain most of the persons involved would be dead by now, but there should still be a paper trail of their involvement, or maybe there is someone still alive that would provide some pertinent information. ”

  “Bad as I hate to admit it Captain, I believe you are right. Tinker and I will do our best to find out what the connection is.”

  “Thanks guys. There’s another area we need to investigate. I believe a tie-in exists with the CIA, Jack Kennedy, the Cubans and the Bay of Pigs fiasco in April 1961; however, Spook and Tinker I believe your investigation into those Mafia bosses might show some connection to the Bay of Pigs screw-up. Try to see if your Mafiosos have any tie-ins to show their connection with Cuba.

  “Krista, you and Olive Maria are to be the collection point of all the data these investigations will generate. You will need to compile this information and organize it. Olive Maria you are the computer guru and our computers are linked to the Department of Defense, the Central Intelligence Agency, the National Security Agency and the U.S. Special Operations Command at MacDill AFB in Florida. Your job is to peruse these highly classified databases, to which we have clearance, and glean any information on MK-ULTRA, the Bay of Pigs operation, the Mafia bosses, the Kennedy Assassination or anything that might be important before our return to Dallas. On the return trip, I will be taking some of our personnel, so our personal safety will depend on the data you uncover.”

  “How long do we have to accomplish these tasks?”

  “Obviously we have waited since 1967, so we are not under any deadline, but remember as long as we work on this assignment other projects will have to be put on hold. So work with as much speed as possible but let’s make sure the data we gather is accurate and pertinent to the John F. Kennedy assassination on November 22, 1963.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THREE DAYS LATER - DÉJÁ VU AGAIN

  Captain Robert Scarburg, III was just finishing his last cup of coffee for the day. He and Krista’s usual quitting time was around 6 p.m. He always joked and said, “There were two things he did not want to be late for - supper and payday.” But today both he and Krista had been burning the midnight oil putting the final preparations on the ‘expedition’ back to Dallas. This day supper was going to be late.

  The time was 10:05 a.m. Friday morning in the frozen regions of northern Russia but it was 9:05 p.m. Thursday night in Washington.

  The Personal Communicator panel on his desk began to glow. An image of Krista appeared, “Captain you have a call from the SECNAV Admiral James Altman.”

  “By-ned, Krista what do you think the Secretary of the Navy wants at this time of night?”

  “Are you just going to talk about him or do you want to talk to him?”

  “Well of course I want to talk to him, put him on... Good evening Mr. Secretary, Director Scarburg here... how are Louise and the kids?”

  “Fine Bob, fine, but this isn’t a personal call.”

  “Sorry Admiral, what can I do for you?”

  “Bob, I’m afraid I have some distressing news...”

  “Hold on just a minute Jim... you and I have had this same conversation before... In fact, I believe it was about a year or so ago... you called and told me the plane carrying Forrest, Bud and Olive Maria had gone down off the coast of Mexico. Now, this time I can guarantee you all my grandkids are safe and sound right here on the ground in the good ole USA. They sure aren’t flying on any airplanes today...”

  “Bob, please, let me finish...”

  “Sorry, Admiral I got carried away, please... continue.”

  “It’s not your children this time Bob... it’s... it’s... Sam Lin and Si Lei! Their plane was coming south out of the Arctic Ocean across Russia headed toward t
heir Hong Kong destination. They ran into a monster of a blizzard somewhere over northern Russia, and the control tower in Hong Kong lost radar contact with the plane. They believe it went down. There is some talk about a mid-air collision or near miss, we are not quite sure which, but we haven’t heard from their plane since 2215 hours last night, their time.”

  “Jim, this cannot be happening - a person would have to script two airplane tragedies such as these in such a short period of time – this sounds like a book or movie? Tell me this is a joke?”

  “Sorry my good friend, I wish I could say it wasn’t so. I’ll keep you apprised of any situational changes. Good bye and good night Bob.”

  “Thank you for the information Admiral, good night Sir.”

  Krista entered Captain Scarburg’s office. She, as always, wanted to find out what the SECNAV wanted. Captain Scarburg offered her a seat and began to explain the call with Secretary of the Navy, Admiral Altman. The Captain, to say the least, was distraught. After his explanation Krista joined him in his overwrought state. She sat with her handkerchief dabbing the tears from the corner of her eye, quietly sobbing, neither spoke. The Captain had turned his chair to face the wall. If Krista had been able to see, she also would have seen tears beginning to glisten in his eyes also.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Krista.

  “Krista, go back to your office and call the kids - fill them in on the situation, I’m going over to Spook and Tinker’s. Sam Lin and Si Lei are Spook’s brothers he needs to be informed in person about the plane crash.”

  “Yes Captain,” answered Krista.

  “Krista, have you seen my cowboy hat – the one I brought back from Dallas? I seem to have misplaced it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  SOMEWHERE IN RUSSIA

  “Cathay Pacific 6073 declaring an emergency... come in Chek Lap Chuc... Mayday... Mayday... Cathay 6073 calling Hong Kong... Cathay 6073 calling anyone... anyone reading this station! Respond, please! We are declaring an emergency! Mayday... Mayday...’ Sorry Captain, I’m not being received. It appears we are broadcasting, but I cannot be sure.”

  “Thanks Don, keep trying every chance you get. We have already been here nearly three days, we have to get outside and see if we can get our bearing.”

  Captain Hunter, could hardly believe it had been three long, cold, miserable days since their near collusion with the Airbus A330. The turbulence created by the UFO streaking between their Boeing 777 and the on-coming plane prevented a disastrous head-on crash; however, Captain Haskell Hunter and his Co-pilot Donald Walker could not overcome the rapid descent of the aircraft. After an un-successful, valiant effort to keep the plane in the air, during the monster of a snowstorm, they succeeded in landing somewhere in the vast expanse of the northern steppes of Russia. Neither would bring up the subject of the Unidentified Flying Object.

  “What about the wheel-well Don? We might be able to use the mechanic’s entrance panel in the floor next to the forward galley to get outside. We could drop through that opening down into the luggage compartment. Once we get in that compartment there is another service panel directly above the front wheels. If we can get it open and get inside the wheel-well... we... we... well we’ll just have to play it by ear from there, I guess.”

  “Come on Captain, let’s give it a try.”

  Back in the passenger compartment the movement by the pilot and co-pilot caused a stir among the sleepers, including Sam Lin and Si Lei. “What’s going on Captain?” asked Sam Lin.

  “We’re going to attempt to work our way to the outside through the front wheel-well. We need to see if we can determine just exactly where we landed. Well, landed may not be the right word. Anyone want to help - we sure could use it.”

  “Count me and Si Lei in Captain - we’ll help!”

  “Great, follow me.”

  Passing through the First Class Section a grey haired gentleman with a neatly trimmed Vandyke beard reached out and grabbed Captain Hunter’s arm as they passed. “Yes sir, is there something I can do for you?” The Captain asked looking down at the man’s hand on his arm.

  Speaking with a Scottish accent he answered, “Aye Captain, I heard ye say ye are going to attempt to get outside this infernal machine through the wheel-holes. Ye realize they will probably be packed with a wee bit of snow - we didn’t come in fer a right smooth landing as ye know.”

  “Yes, you are correct. Do you have a question sir?”

  “No, not a question. I might tho’ have an answer. Ye see laddie, I am Dr. Phillip Mann, Professor of Archeology at Harvard University. That’s in Boston... Boston, Massachusetts... Massachusetts is in the USA, ye know?”

  “Yes, Professor, I know where Harvard is located, please continue,” the Captain said impatiently rolling his eyes.

  “Oh yes, to continue - my students and I were on our way to evaluate a recent fossil find in the Chinese Province of Hunan...”

  “Yes, yes, this is all very interesting Professor Mann,” the Captain said interrupting the Professor, “and I would love to hear more about your trip, but as you probably can tell, I am a little busy right now.”

  “Oh, right ye are! That’s my point. My students and I have picks and shovels in our baggage in the luggage compartment below. Ye will need some type of digging instruments to remove all that infernal snow. Won’t ye my laddie?”

  “You are a Godsend Professor - but how can we identify your baggage from all the dozens and dozens of other bags? We could be looking for hours.”

  “Very simple my lad. All our bags have a large strip of red tape around and about them.” Smiling and stroking his beard, he continued, “Oh, I bet ye a pound sterling ye thought I was going to say Scotch tape, get it... Scotch?”

  “Yes Professor,” Captain Hunter answered, agitated, “I got it!”

  “I do say... it’s that red, what is it called? Oh yes, mounting... no... no... masking tape... yes that’s it - masking tape. I do that, so my clan of students can easily identify their bags at the airport baggage terminals. Just look for the bags with the red tape - each will have one of those small folding Army shovels in it. Ye’re welcome to’em.”

  “Thanks Professor, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, laddie, one thing...if yer find any fossils gimme a holler,” he said grinning.

  DIG GUYS DIG!

  Captain Hunter, Co-pilot Don Walker, Sam Lin and Si Lei had retrieved the shovels from the bags of the Harvard archeologists in the Boeing’s luggage compartment. They found and opened the maintenance plate, which allowed the four of them to slide down onto the two large Goodyear tires in the front wheel-well. The professor had been correct - the wheel compartment was packed with snow - freezing, cold snow.

  Surveying the situation all was not bad. The temperature was still in the minus forty to minus fifty-degree range. This was good. No, not really, fifty below is bad, but it was so cold the snow did not pack itself together; it was simply a fluffy white powder. Captain Hunter thought it reminded him of flour or talcum powder. Powder snow is much easier to dig through than hard, packed, wet snow.

  Each person manned a shovel and began moving the snow from the front of the tires to the side - it seemed hopeless. The wheel-well was quickly filling up with loose snow. “Come on guys, I believe I can see the snow beginning to lighten. I think we are getting close to digging out! Come on don’t stop now! Dig guys dig!”

  The words had barely escaped Captain Hunter’s nearly frozen lips when one of the shovels broke through to the outside. Pushing the snow aside, they widen the hole more and more. In a few minutes, they were able to slide through and finally the four of them were standing knee deep in the white fluff. They were outside! This allowed them to get a look and survey their ‘landing field’.

  They cast searching eyes in every direction - they saw nothing. Well nothing, except snow. It was everywhere. If one had been talking about a winter wonderland, this would be the place they had in mind.

  Captain Hunter was t
he first to speak, “Men, we seem to have landed on a large frozen lake. Look over there,” he said pointing in one direction. “It looks to be a couple of miles to those trees. We need to get around to the rear of the airplane and check if we have sustained any structural damage.” The plane was blocking their view - actually it did not look like a plane - it was just an enormous pile of snow! The plane was wholly covered from nose to tail - they couldn’t even see the wings.

  As they struggled to trudge around the snow covered airplane, Captain Hunter asked one of the men to walk up the mound of snow and brush away the snow from the windshield. “When we get back inside, sitting in the cockpit, we need to be able to see what is happening outside.”

  The four of them spent a few minutes checking out their ‘neighborhood’. Their first impression had not changed - they were sitting on a large frozen lake with nothing but miles and miles of endless snow in every direction. The worst thing - they saw was no indication of life - no buildings, no houses or no animals. They were in the vast Russia steppe - there probably was not a living person in hundreds if not thousands of square miles.

  Before going back into the hole to the wheel-well, Sam Lin spoke, “Captain, what do you think we should do?”

  “Gentlemen, I appreciate the fact that I am in charge and should have an answer, and I do. My answer is: I just simply do not have an answer - sorry.”

  Back inside the aircraft, the passengers scrambled toward the front of the aircraft as the diggers re-appeared. They wanted to hear what they had to say. The assembled travelers were enthusiastic and apprehensive, but hearing the report on the conditions outside, their mood changed to extreme despair and desperation. The temperature inside the craft was extremely cold, but after the discouraging news, the temperature seemed to drop a few more degrees.

 

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