“One million dollars, you say?” I asked, and he nodded. “And these pictures and recordings go away?”
“Of course,” he said, handed me another envelope, and extended his hand. “I am a man of honor. We’ll meet again tomorrow night. Do we have a deal?”
I shook his hand and walked him to the door. When he was gone, I sat on the couch, poured another drink, and opened the envelope to read the instructions for the next meeting. It was a long shot, but it was my only shot.
TWENTY-TWO
Special Agent Johnson groaned, rubbed his throbbing temples, and opened his eyes with a flinch as beams of sunlight penetrated the room between two curtains flapping gently in the breeze.
The wobbling ceiling fan wafted moist, sultry air. He propped himself up and rested on his elbows to assess the situation—a small bedroom with a concrete floor, white sheets on a full-sized mattress, bright clothes on wire hangers pressed together tight inside a wooden wardrobe without doors, and a desk covered with brushes and makeup before a vanity mirror.
The nightstand held an empty bourbon bottle and a lipstick-stained roach of a joint in an ashtray. Empty beer cans were strewn across the floor.
He swung his legs to the ground and paused to endure the piercing headache. He stood up shakily, naked, then grabbed his boxers from the floor, pulled them on, and groaned when he saw two used condoms beneath the bed, near torn wrappers. Fuck.
He separated the curtains and shielded his eyes to see the busy streets of working-class Bangkok below. Laundry hung from clotheslines on the patios, and mopeds sputtered black smoke as riders wove through the traffic. He grabbed his faded jeans, navy blue Polo shirt, and leather sandals, felt his wallet still in his back pocket, relieved, and got dressed before leaving the bedroom.
The modest apartment had a woman’s touch—flowers on the dining room table, a scented candle burning in the bathroom, and the complementary fragrance of lavender potpourri. He walked to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a plastic pitcher of water.
The cupboards were empty, so he took a drinking glass from the sink draining board, wiped it with a damp towel, filled it, and choked the water down, some trickling off his chin.
He thumped the empty glass down on the laminate countertop and gasped a long, shaky breath, then sighed inwardly with relief when he saw his cell phone, showing a missed call from the embassy and a Facebook friend request. He scanned the room to see Jewel sitting on the couch surfing the Internet on her phone.
“Hey,” he said, though his coarse voice and weak tone.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said.
“What time is it?” He checked his phone with another moaning sound—almost noon. “I should get going. Do I owe you money or something?”
She patted the cushion next to her, and he joined her. “You paid me last night.”
He opened his wallet with a cringe to see all the cash missing. “So I guess $400 is the going rate these days? What did I get for all that?”
He was part joking but also half earnest; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.
She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “OK, you were the one who insisted on my friend joining us today, and all the liquor and drugs.”
He opened Facebook on his phone and denied her friend request as she smirked.
“Look, why don’t we just say goodbye and avoid Facebook?” he asked.
“Tell me again why you are here?” she inquired, as if he’d said nothing.
“Business,” he said. “An investigation…nothing that concerns you.”
She tapped her cell phone and played a video from her point of view, looking down at Johnson on his back while having sex. “Colonel Reed is in deep shit for what he did to Captain Howard.” There was moaning and laughing.
“You like to fuck me?” she asked. “Oh yeah,” he said, “I could fuck you all night.”
Johnson tapped the cell phone to stop the video. “What the hell’s going on here? What do you want from me?”
Jewel set her cell phone on the table and looked him in the eyes.
“There is no investigation of Colonel Reed, got it? You talked to me and the other girls at Club Ecstasy and you got no information, got it?” She gestured to a nursing textbook on the table. “Colonel Reed is a good man. Taught me to believe in myself—I will be a nurse by next summer.”
“Look, I don’t know who the hell you think you are…”
“I am the bitch who is going to send this video to your wife on Facebook,” she said. “Colonel Reed did nothing wrong to Captain Howard. He fucked half of my friends, all on his own.”
Johnson wanted to teach her a lesson in respect, but it was clear that this dancer from Bangkok had him by the balls. They exchanged glares as the door opened, and turned to see a beautiful young Thai woman wearing a short red dress.
She gave Jewel a kiss on the cheek and sat between them.
“Who is she?” he asked as if the newcomer wasn’t there.
“She’s my friend,” Jewel said, “the one you paid extra last night to meet.”
The friend took his hand, her face bearing naughty schoolgirl eyes, and gently slid his fingertips down between her legs—no panties, a smooth shave.
“Already paid?” he asked, instantly aroused. His hand had needed little coaxing.
“Do we have a deal?” Jewel asked.
He nodded and leaned back as the woman unzipped his jeans.
Jewel rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. “In the bedroom, please.”
◆◆◆
Johnson, dressed in a sport coat and tie, waited in the lobby of the U.S. Embassy with his luggage, sipping an energy drink.
He opened his Facebook account on his phone, searched for Jewel, and checked his email.
Sullivan entered the lobby, checked his watch, and raised his hands. “Dude, where the hell have you been?” They stood to shake hands. “Holy shit—your eyes.”
Sullivan gestured to the Marine behind the security glass, heaved the armored door after the click, and led Johnson to the men’s room, where he handed him eye drops and turned on the faucet.
Johnson splashed cold water on his face, applied two eye drops to each eye, and snatched a paper towel.
“Tell the general you were conducting interviews this morning,” Sullivan said and slapped him on the shoulder.
Johnson leaned closer. “What happened last night?”
Sullivan looked at him, unimpressed. “We were having drinks at Club Ecstasy and talking to some of the girls. I had to go home because it was running late and you said you had to use the bathroom.”
“Then what?” Johnson asked.
“Don’t want to know,” Sullivan replied. “You said you wanted to talk to Jewel, so I called her for you.”
Johnson blinked and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked to the elevator. His heart thumped as they entered the DAO spaces, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because of the hangover or his fear of seeing Brigadier General Williams in this condition. Sullivan knocked on the door and gestured for Johnson to enter when Williams gave the go ahead.
Johnson sat and waited as Williams reviewed a document, signed it, and removed his reading glasses. He looked up and exhaled, clearly displeased with Johnson’s appearance.
“Look, I don’t know what you were doing last night or what time you got home, but I want to know only one thing—has your investigation surfaced any pertinent information?”
“No, sir,” Johnson said.
Williams folded his hands on his desk. “No?”
“As you know, General, the security tapes for the three relevant days are missing,” he said. “I spent most of last night and this morning talking to girls at the club who might have known Captain Howard.”
“And?”
“Some recall seeing him a few times,” he said, “but nothing about sleeping with any of the girls. In my experience, without the threat of legal action, most dancers don’t kiss and tell.”
“What about Colonel Reed and his…friend, Jewel?”
Johnson took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “She said Colonel Reed took some of his contacts to the club and gave her good tips to keep his friends happy, but she insisted they never had an intimate relationship.”
“And you believe her?” Williams asked with raised eyebrows. “The rumor around town was they were spending a lot of time together.”
Johnson shrugged. “I can only tell you what she said, General. To be honest, she’s studying to be a nurse, so I think she’s dancing to pay the bills.”
Williams nodded. “I give her credit for trying to further her education. What happens now?”
“I have to catch a flight back today,” Johnson said. “The only thing I’ve been able to confirm is that Colonel Reed and Captain Howard were seen together at Club Ecstasy.”
“Not too bad, all things considered,” Williams said. “I understand that you’re not at liberty to discuss all the details, but when will we hear from Captain Howard?”
Johnson shrugged cryptically and excused himself. He exited the embassy and approached the street to hail a taxi. He tossed his luggage in the trunk, dusted off his hands before opening the back door, and entered as a cute Thai girl hopped into the back seat from the other side.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Oh hey,” she said innocently, “I didn’t see you! Are you from the embassy? I’ve never seen you at Club Ecstasy.”
Johnson looked at her curiously. “Why would you think I’ve been to Club Ecstasy?” This was no coincidence.
“All the soldiers go there,” she said and stroked the fade around his ears. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business,” he said. The driver looked back with a shrug—where to?
Johnson gestured for him to be patient, eager to see where this was going.
“I’m investigating something for the embassy,” he said to the girl.
“An investigator,” she said and touched her heart with a gasp. “I hear they are investigating some of the Americans who go to the club.”
Johnson gestured again for the driver to be patient. “Do you know the names?”
She tilted her head. “Captain Howard.”
“Do you know Captain Howard?” he asked.
“Not me,” she said, “but I know someone who does. If we go to the club now, you can talk to her.”
Johnson turned to the taxi driver. “To the airport, with a stop at Club Ecstasy.”
As they drove through the busy streets of Bangkok, Johnson analyzed this odd coincidence—what had to happen to make this chance encounter possible—as she flirted and suggested they could have a lot of fun at the club for a good price. She slid closer, kissed him on the cheek, and attempted to caress his crotch with a devilish grin. He checked his phone—pictures, videos, and text messages—to ensure there was nothing incriminating.
At Club Ecstasy, Johnson grabbed his luggage and followed the girl inside, where she gestured for him to sit and wait at a table. For early afternoon, there were a surprising number of customers looking for fun, mostly middle-aged men in tropical garb. He popped open his bottle of aspirin.
“Hey babe,” a passing waitress said, “get you a drink?”
“Water, please,” he said. She handed him a draft beer in a clear plastic cup from her tray and walked to the next customer. He shrugged and washed down the aspirin, then chugged half of the beer before setting it down. His taxi friend arrived with a dancer with silky black hair, wearing jeans and a skin-tight shirt. They sat and joined him.
“Are you investigating Captain Howard?” she asked.
“Do you have information about him?” he asked.
She nodded confidently. “He was here with Lance,” she said. “I was sitting on his lap.”
“She means Colonel Reed,” his taxi friend said.
Johnson opened his notepad. “Anything else?”
She nodded. “I asked Captain Howard if he wanted this pussy—that is what we say around here to sound sexy for the Americans.”
Johnson jotted this down and gestured for her to continue.
“He did not seem interested,” she continued, “but Lance—I mean, Colonel Reed—said get your ass back there…that’s an order.”
“What, he said it…exactly like that?” he asked, skeptical that she’d remember an exact quote.
She nodded and left in a hurry.
He dialed a number on his phone, finished his beer, and leaned back in the chair.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said and listened. “I’ll give you my full report when I get back, but I just spoke with a woman who claimed that Colonel Reed pressured Captain Howard to have sex with a dancer. She sounded coached.” He listened and nodded. “I know this whole thing was unusual from the beginning, but something’s not adding up.” He nodded again, leaned forward, and ended the call. His taxi friend did a sexy dance and gestured to the back rooms. He shook his head and wheeled his luggage outside to the cab.
TWENTY-THREE
Time and again, it’s not the crime, it’s the cover-up. If I were to confess my misdeeds with Jewel and Anna and report the recruitment pitch, we could get ahead of the story and judo-throw it back to China in our favor.
Jade Envy would be sent home after being given a final chance to work for us, and Anna would face a criminal investigation, which would help us prevent future cyberattacks.
I would be commended for my willingness to come clean, but would face disciplinary action and would never wear the rank of brigadier general.
No doubt I’d be allowed to retire to avoid any embarrassment for the Army, and seek a defense contractor job to sock away money for the kids’ college fund. Of course, I would have to live with the shame of a divorce and being blamed for Captain Howard’s suicide.
It’s human nature to take profits too early or allow losses to run. Our emotions, primarily fear and greed, struggle with the bell curve of risk management. Counterintelligence problems were not like good wine; this wouldn’t get better with time.
However, there was one way to keep this operation on track and salvage my future, but only if something undesirable were first allowed to pass, like sacrificing a pawn to take the queen. Sometimes, we are in so deep that even a minute chance of returning to the surface outweighs the likelier outcome of sinking deeper. If you receive a life sentence without parole, a double life sentence doesn’t feel much worse.
As I drove to the urgent meeting I’d requested with Lewis, Brett, and Nguyen, I continued my risk analysis in search of clarity. Should I confess or lash myself tighter into my web of deception? In the final analysis, I concluded that I couldn’t live without Beth and the boys and decided that my plan was my best move. Not to mention, my plan also had escape hatches along the way, so it would be difficult to make a case against me in the fog of war.
The chaos and confusion would be my way out because people had been programmed to doubt conspiracy theories, even if the evidence was clear for all to see.
As I entered Cyber Command and walked to Lewis’s office, I felt more confident about my plan and repeated the story in my mind to make sure it could withstand the scrutiny of three brilliant minds trained to be skeptical. I’d requested a meeting at this time because Lewis had called to say they had a new batch of security patches ready for delivery to the Pentagon, the ones I had promised to give to Jade Envy.
When I knocked on the door, Lewis was busily typing away on his computer. He removed his reading glasses and gestured for me to sit on the couch.
I took a load off and leaned back with a glance at the Laocoön statue as I considered my options one last time. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the wrath of the capricious gods or the bureaucratic machine, neither of which had a reputation for forgiveness.
He finished typing and stood.
“In case you didn’t know, CID has been investigating Captain Howard’s death in Bangkok. Please don’t respond without
a lawyer present to what I’m about to say, but you should know that a witness claimed that you pressured Captain Howard to have sex with a dancer.”
He raised a finger to remind me of my right to remain silent. “I hope for your sake that it’s not true, but I thought you should know.”
“I understand, General,” I said. Brett and Nguyen were running a few minutes late so I had some time to factor this new information into my calculation. The bad news was the accusation was true, as Jade Envy had proved with the audio recording, but I was hopeful that the testimony of a dancer in Bangkok wouldn’t be admitted as evidence. It was a bad joke, not a lawful order, so Tom was under no obligation to obey.
Brett and Nguyen apologized for arriving late and grabbed the open seats on the couch after Lewis closed the door. There was no turning back.
“Thanks for coming,” I said and took a deep breath for dramatic effect. “I believe I might have identified a Chinese spy.” Needless to say, this was followed by a flurry of nonverbal confusion.
“Let me go back to the beginning,” I said. “As you recall, I had my first encounter with Jade Envy during the Chinese diplomatic event.” I waited for nods.
“That same evening, I met a young woman named Anna Stuart who works as a contractor in the Pentagon—in the J6, no less. She’s getting her Ph.D. in computer science at Georgetown and expressed an interest in working for Cyber Command. We met to discuss her career objectives, and I agreed to ask a friend about her security clearance, which is on hold.”
They nodded, gesturing for more.
“During the meeting with Jade Envy last night, which resulted in killer information, by the way,” I said with a thumbs-up, “I rifled through his phone while he was in the bathroom. I looked at the files and found a document with a phone number. The last four digits grabbed my attention from when I’d saved Anna’s number to my cell phone.”
EXFIL Page 16