The Ericksen Connection

by Barry Becker

  Sullivan thought, Why can’t this jackass comprehend the rationale of intelligence operations when the task of the mission serves our allies and the principals in the White House?

  40

  CIA Director’s Office

  ricksen, Caldwell, Norstad and the CIA psychiatrist sat across from Sullivan in the SCIF Conference Room. Cald- well stood up and clicked on the PowerPoint slide presenta-

  tion: a photo of Khalid Al-Bustani.

  “Khalid Al-Bustani is the mastermind. He is forty-nine, a graduate of King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah, with a B.S. in petroleum engineering and an MBA from the University of Texas at Austin. He played soccer at the Al-Thagher Model School in Jeddah with Osama Bin Laden, a schoolmate, who was two grade levels ahead of him.”

  “The next slide shows Khalid in Afghanistan alongside his boyhood friend, Bin Laden, fighting against the Soviets from 1985 to 1987.”

  “It was at this time we believe, he became an Islamic Jihadist,” the psychiatrist said.

  “The next photo was taken at Ghazi Al-Bustani’s funeral in 1987. His father suffered a fatal heart attack, and the control of the company went to his older brother Nabil. However, six months later Nabil was killed in a car accident in Marbella, Spain,” Caldwell said.

  Sullivan chuckled. “What a surprise. Who is next in line to run Al-Bustani Group of Companies?” Sullivan asked.

  “His younger brother Nayef. He is the head of Al-Bustani Geolog- ical Exploration Company and is married to one of the Royal Family’s daughters. There are no indications he’s involved in terrorism or any criminal adventures.”

  “Our team has concluded Al-Bustani is a sociopath who exhibits a conflicting struggle between material wealth and being the leader of holy jihad. You’ll never find him living in a cave,” the psychiatrist joked.

  Sullivan walked over to the refrigerator and retrieved three bottles of mineral water. He gave Ericksen and Caldwell each one and took a swig.

  “Our mission will be called Operation Avenging Eagles. Please show Mark, his inner circle.”

  Caldwell activated the remote. A slide of Ziad Kabbani appeared. “Ziad is a Saudi government spy. He proved his loyalty by his years as a bomb maker in Iraq for Al-Qaeda. Now he’s Khalid’s financial advisor and savvy computer security guru. The next slide features the head of their terrorist operations: Abdullah Al-Suhaimy is a Saudi and Al-Bustani’s top operative. He led the Hurghada bombing opera- tion,” Caldwell reported.

  She clicked the remote for the next picture. “The next key guy is Wolfgang Beltermann, the former East German Stasi intelligence spy. He is another major operative and a computer expert. He has conducted a couple of terrorist missions to his credit.”

  Sullivan interjected, “Mark, your code name will be Gold Eagle, like during your SEAL days. Elizabeth’s Venus and mine is Phantom. Khalid spends most of his time from July through mid-September in Switzerland. It is during this period where your covert operational activities might come into play by appointing Elizabeth’s firm to conduct an executive search for a European Sales Manager.”

  Caldwell pointed her index finger and thumb at Ericksen. “If all goes as planned, Khalid will offer a sizeable amount of money to buy you off. Don’t accept his initial offer. He’ll respect you for your stance. If he is serious about acquiring your systems, he’ll negotiate a coun-

  The Ericksen Connection161

  teroffer. Once you agree to his offer, make sure to open a private numbered account only with Banque Matthias Reiter in Geneva. It must be this bank. Understand?”

  “Affirmative, Ms. Caldwell.”

  This is the bank where Dawkins probably has a private account, thought Ericksen.

  Ericksen and Caldwell shared many positive organizational lead- ership skills except one: He had killed many men in combat. She had never killed a person. However, both had strong analytical abilities, were self-motivated, goal-oriented and had a track record of deliv- ering results. Her experience focused on the analysis, evaluation, and selection of the best potential candidates for senior wealth asset management positions within the Swiss banking industry. When she recommended a potential asset to the bank, and the candidate was approved, she then would contact the senior Treasury department’s counterterrorism and financial intelligence officer in Bern, David Jacobson. Then he began turning the asset.

  He handed Sullivan the photo of Bashir’s wife and daughters. He pointed to Laila. “Laila survived a Taliban attack two years ago. Her mother and oldest sister were killed. I met Jannan in 2005 in Kanda- har. He works for the Afghan government and has been raising Laila along with his kids. Ericksen continued, ‘He called me recently and asked if I could help him and his family get out of Afghanistan. The Taliban has threatened him several times, and he feels it’s just a matter of time before they kill him.” Ericksen stared into Sullivan’s eyes. “Director Sullivan, can you help bring them to America?”

  “I’ll have someone look into this and see what we can do to help get them to the States.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The psychiatrist leaned in. “Mr. Ericksen, I believe if the director can accomplish your request, seeing them in America would certainly give you some sense of redemption.”

  Ericksen nodded.

  Sullivan stood up. “Clint contacted me from the hospital. He told me you kicked his ass.”

  • • •

  “I didn’t intend to hurt the guy, but he tried to beat the shit out of me.” Sullivan smiled. “We should have given Clint a heads-up on your black belts in Okinawan karate, Brazilian jujitsu, and your expertise in Krav Maga.”

  Sullivan heard a sound emanating from his desktop computer. He glanced at his most current email, from Wolverine: “Khalid Al- Bustani wired fifteen million Swiss francs from Monch and Schneider Bank Zurich two days ago to Tariq Cement Company’s private account at Waldmann and Tessier Bank S.A. Luxembourg. Hafiz Tariq is the chairman of the company.”

  41

  wo hundred Saudi corporate and governmental security people arrived on June 9th to attend Massoud Trading Company’s two-day show in conference hall B at the Sher-

  aton Hotel in Jeddah to view several vendors’ products on display. Ericksen spent one hour delivering a PowerPoint presentation on how each of EyeD4 Systems’ access control biometrics technologies worked. He then demonstrated with several individuals whom he had already enrolled, having them approach the units one at a time, and match in real-time their live-iris or palm vein to the previously enrolled template. He hoped the presentation would generate more business for his Saudi distributor.

  After the presentation, he walked away from the podium. The CEO of the company and Saudi distributor for EyeD4 Systems, approached the podium and announced, “Gentlemen, lunch will be served in the Oasis room in ten minutes.”

  Khalid, Beltermann, Faisal, and Ziad greeted the CEO, who stood next to Ericksen. “Khalid, let me introduce you to Mark Ericksen. Khalid Al-Bustani is one of our best customers in the Kingdom,” the CEO said. Both men shook hands, and Al-Bustani introduced

  Ericksen to Ziad, Faisal, and Beltermann. Khalid turned to the CEO and in Arabic said, “Would you please answer some questions for my men while I talk with Mr. Ericksen privately?”

  “Of course.”

  He and Ericksen walked toward the lobby. In the lobby were many Arab businessmen and foreigners talking amongst each other. There were also some Arab women with their husbands. They all wore an abaya, long outer garment that covered their bodies, arms, legs, and heads. Some of the women were completely covered, where all you saw were their eyes.

  “Do you have any plans for dinner tonight, Mr. Ericksen?” he asked in English.

  “No.”

  “Good. I would like to discuss some opportunities with you over dinner. I’ll have my driver meet you in the lobby. What time is best for you?”

  Ericksen looked at his Omega Seamaster dive watch, “How about seven?”

  “See you tonight.”


  The chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce arrived at the Jeddah Marina and pulled up to the dock. The chauffeur opened the rear passenger door, and Ericksen got out. He walked up the imposing Dolphin Prince’s gangplank, where an attendant greeted Ericksen as he reached the top.

  “Please follow me, sir,” the attendant said. He escorted him into the dining room, where Ziad and Khalid greeted him.

  “My financial advisor is joining us.”

  They sat down at the dinner table. The head waiter approached the table and filled the glasses with water.

  “Can I offer you some beverage – orange juice or wine, sir? “I would like a glass of your Pinot Noir.”

  “Get him our best Pinot Noir, the Elk Cove Vineyards, La Boheme 2003, and orange juice for us,” Khalid said.

  “Thank you.”

  “ Having lived in Austin, Texas, for a few years, I became more acquainted with your American culture and the more casual ways of enjoyment. May I call you Mark?”

  “Of course.”

  “I run several of diversified companies throughout the world. Everything from oil and gas exploration, hotels, construction compa- nies to consumer electronics,” Khalid said with enthusiasm.

  “That’s quite impressive, Mr. Al-Bustani.” The waiter entered with a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured some wine in Ericksen’s glass for his approval. He glanced at the bottle, checked out the color of the wine in the glass, swirled the glass, smelled the bouquet of the wine, and drank it.

  “The wine is splendid,” Ericksen said as he nodded his head and smiled. The waiter then filled the glass of wine and handed glasses of orange juice to both Ziad and Khalid.

  “I own forty percent of a Houston company. We believe our competitors are involved in industrial espionage. We are interested in purchasing your EyeD4Comm System’s palm vein biometrics and encryption software systems.”

  Ericksen dropped his jaw and appeared startled. “The EyeD4- Comm System is classified. It is only available to the US Government and currently has been in beta-testing for over a year.”

  “I understand. However, I’ll make an offer worthwhile to you. Can you provide me with the same capabilities you offer the CIA?”

  “Mr. Al-Bustani, you can’t be serious.” “Please call me Khalid.”

  He raised his eyebrows, and his face tensed up. “Khalid, you certainly have a good sense of humor. I enjoy my freedom and what you’re proposing will guarantee me a one-way ticket to a federal prison for a long time.”

  “I’ll give you one million dollars for four systems, five hundred thousand now, and placed in a private numbered account in Switzer- land of your choice. The balance upon delivery at a US location.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sorry I must decline.”

  The waiter brought in the appetizers: jumbo prawns, yellowfin

  tuna with Asian cucumber salad, escargots à la Bourguignonne, and Arabic unleavened bread.

  “Please think it over tonight and if you change your mind, call me in the morning.”

  “Here’s my business card,” Khalid said.

  “Please don’t take this personally, but if I’m going to take all the risks, I need to have at least two million dollars for the four systems. One million upfront and one million upon physical handoff to a trusted representative of your company.”

  “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll think over your offer. In the mean- time, let’s enjoy the appetizers. The entrée is our chef ’s delicacy – Saudi lamb.”

  Stables of King Abdullah Aziz Arabian Horse Center

  Khalid leaned against the white fence and watched several Arabian horses at the auction in Dirab, Saudi Arabia. Colonel Mustapha Al- Gosaibi approached him. They both walked toward some men who also showed interest in the horses. Khalid and Al-Gosaibi spotted General Al- Jabr and his four-man security detail. “General Mohammed, good to see you,” Colonel Al-Gosaibi said in Arabic.

  General Al-Jabr smiled. “Colonel Mustapha, are you buying or just here to observe?” “Khalid’s the one who is in the market.”

  Al-Jabr faced Khalid. “I can never forget your Arabian, Falcon Dancer, the year he won the King’s Cup. He was fast and furious like the desert wind.” Khalid nodded and smiled, a sense of pride suffusing his face, in appreciation of the recognition voiced by a warrior about his Falcon Dancer.

  “God willing, I’ll find another someday – maybe today.” “Congratulations on being awarded the national police headquar-

  ters project. Perhaps Colonel Mustapha will get a larger office when you’ve completed the job.”

  Al-Gosaibi’s mouth tightened with a half-smile as he pondered Al-Jabr’s meaning. “I’m confident the interior minister will be pleased when we’re finished.”

  After Khalid and Colonel Mustapha had moved on, General Al- Jabr turned to his aide, “Place the colonel under surveillance.”

  42

  Geneva, Switzerland

  iad joined Steiner and Ericksen in the Banque Matthias Reiter’s elegant conference room off to the side of the lobby. “Do you want them shipped to Houston?” asked Ericksen.

  “No, we’ll test them and take delivery in Oregon,” Ziad said. “Where and when?”

  “We will get back to you with the location and the dates.” “Fine.”

  Steiner handed the briefcase to Ericksen as Jurgen Reiter approached.

  “Herr Reiter, Mr. Ericksen will be opening an account with your bank for one million dollars. I think he will become a valuable client to your bank.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Gentlemen, please excuse us, we’ll be on our way,” Ziad said, as both men left the room and strolled toward the lobby.

  “Mr. Ericksen, please follow me to our fifth-floor conference room.” They both entered the elevator and rode up to the fifth-floor. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He escorted him into the conference room and pointed to a seat close to the front of the table nearest to a large painting of Bellagio. “Please excuse me for a minute. I need to get some forms for you to sign.”

  Ericksen nodded. He marveled at the stained-glass painting with its majestic mountain vistas surrounding Lake Como, and the homes and buildings of Bellagio. He noticed the painstaking effort the artist demanded of himself to accomplish such a masterpiece. The sun’s rays illuminated the painting.

  A few minutes later, Reiter explained the instructions, and procedures for conducting deposits, wire transfers, and with- drawals on his private numbered account at Banque Matthias Reiter. Reiter handed him a Banque Matthias Reiter credit card to use for any purchases he wished to make. “Your numbered account starts with the letters BMR, which stands for Banque Matthias Reiter, and the numbers 0534986JR/1. After the seven digit number, you’ll see JR, which is my initials, the forward slash, and the number 1. The number 1 references the Geneva location, the head- quarters of our bank. Future deposits must be made by you in person or by phone. We can also wire transfer funds into your account from another account holder of our bank or to another Swiss bank account holder. Do you have any questions?” asked Reiter.

  “No.”

  “What is your passcode?” “VikingMercerIslandDK.”

  “What is your date of birth and place of birth?” “July 13, 1970, Copenhagen, Denmark.”

  “We’re almost finished. My employee number is 045, and my grandmother’s maiden name is Keller.” He pointed to his business card on the table. “Please call my direct line. I believe that covers our standard operating procedures. Your access code is Klosters. Do you have any questions, Mr. Ericksen?”

  “Yes. What if you’re not available?”

  “Ask for Lorenz Reiter. He is the CFO of our bank and my

  nephew. I’ll get his direct number for you. Lorenz’s employee number is 060 and use “Keller.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome to Banque Matthias Reiter.”

  A woman entered and gave the receipt to Ericksen. “Mr.
Ericksen, this is your receipt for your one million dollar deposit today.”

  Jurgen glanced upward at his administrative assistant. “Please give Mr. Ericksen Lorenz’s business card.”

  “Will do sir,” she replied in French. “Thank you.”

  Located on the third-floor of an ornate building on the Rue de Rive is the office of Prentice & Aubert. Ericksen entered into the lobby, and the receptionist greeted him. “Can I help you sir?” she asked in French.

  “I have an appointment with Ms. Caldwell,” he said in English. “Your name please?”

  “Mark Ericksen.”

  “One moment. Please have a seat.”

  The receptionist called Caldwell. “Madame, Mr. Ericksen is here for his appointment.”

  He stood up and met her in the lobby. She wore a beautiful, stylish blue skirt, a camel suede sports jacket, and a white blouse with a pearl necklace. She looked gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile radiated as she greeted him.

  “Hello, Mr. Ericksen, please follow me.” Caldwell escorted him to her office. She opened the door, and he noticed Jacobson seated in a chair.

  “Dex?”

  Jacobson stood up and extended his hand to him. “Hello, Mark, it’s been a long time. My alias these days is ‘Dave Jacobson.’”

  They shook hands as Caldwell interjected, “Dave works at the US Embassy in Bern. He’s with the Agency, but on loan to the Treasury Department.”

  “Write down my secure phone number in Bern, 31-909-6868. My code name is Wolverine.”

  Ericksen took out his smartphone and entered the number into