DEATH IN THE DRAGON’S HOUSE: BOOK TWO
THE WORTH OF SOULS
ABOMINATION OF SEX SLAVES IN SOUTHEAST ASIA
BY T. MARTIN O’NEIL
PO Box 221974 Anchorage, Alaska 99522-1974
[email protected]—www.publicationconsultants.com
ISBN 978-1-59433-767-3
eISBN: 978-1-59433-768-0
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2017937566
Copyright 2017 T. Martin O’Neil
—First Edition—
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form, or by any mechanical or electronic means including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, in whole or in part in any form, and in any case not without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Captives Come
Chapter 2: Back Into the Fire
Chapter 3: The SEALS Return
Chapter 4: Vientiane
Chapter 5: The Hmong
Chapter 6: The First Foray into China
Chapter 7: Implementing The Reconnaissance
Chapter 8: Imperial Hammer and Other Surprises
Chapter 9: The Plan Comes Together
Chapter 10: Now What Do We Do?
Chapter 11: Another Day, Another Fire
Chapter 12: Captivity, A Time of Reflection and Fear
Chapter 13: SEALS Invade Cambodia
Chapter 14: Extraction and Touchdown
Chapter 15: INTERPOL Headquarters, Kaohsiung, Taiwan
Chapter 16: The Safe(?) House
Chapter 17: A New Assignment
Chapter 18: A New Partner for Fang
Chapter 19: Mohamed Rayyan
Chapter 20: Aqilah Her, Another Step Closer
Chapter 21: Seeking Their Targets
Chapter 22: Depravity in Bangkok
Chapter 23: All Roads Lead to Sattahip
Chapter 24: Employer Justice
Chapter 25: The Escape
Chapter 26: Tripoli and Bravo Zulu
Epilogue: Good Byes for Now
Acknowledgements
The primary and most sincere ‘thank you’ goes to my wife whom I have known for over 40 years. She willingly supported me during my Naval career. While I was deployed and could not tell her where I was, she stood by me. Without that unfailing love, I could never have been able to support and perform the duties I needed to.
A special thanks to SEAL Team members who made my experience with them a most memorable one. Periodically needing a nudge in the right direction, I send a special thank you to various Commanding Officers that helped direct my life so that it benefited others.
I also thank a great writer in his own right. He has been a friend who encouraged me to keep on writing when it was truly uphill. Thank you Marc Cameron. To my publisher, Evan Swensen of Publication Consultants, I send my sincerest appreciation.
Last, but certainly not least, were my parents. Without the great example they set, I could never have achieved so much and lived so full a life. Thank you Mom and Dad.
Dedication
As in Death in the Dragon’s House Book One: Into the Fire, I dedicate Book Two to the lives of those who have given everything to the United States of America. They answered the call and helped in a time of need. Many gave their lives for a concept and hope that all men may seek and find peace in this world.
Too many people are bent on the destruction of happiness even within our nation because of greed and selfishness. They have strangled the lives and loves of others from lands far away.
The Vietnam wars took so much from America and the rest of the world. Not just combat lives lost, but pride in who we, as humans beings, are. We are a light to the world for all we represent, internally and externally.
To the families scarred and decimated, the hatred fomented by selfish greed, the losses from lustful, cowardly individuals, fortunately there are those who could be counted on. Those men and women didn’t run away and hide. These are the real people affected and who this book salutes.
To the men and women operators of Special Forces regardless of service branch, as well as their families, may I say, “Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the hearts of those who truly have received of their sacrifice. Bravo Zulu.”
Prologue
The Second Vietnam War was drawing to a close. The United States proclaimed a new policy that required a significant draw-down of U.S. troops operating in the country of South Vietnam. This draw-down meant the turnover of millions of dollars worth of equipment, arms and ammunition to the Republic of South Vietnam.
President Richard M. Nixon declared that if the South Vietnamese were to be an independent nation, they needed to stand on their own against communist oppression. We as a nation would supply war materials and financial aid to prop them up. However, after more than 10 years of the United States providing the manpower to stop the communists, the South Vietnamese needed to assume more of the combat role. Thus, Vietnamization was born.
Continuing to operate until the end of the war, special operations groups such as the U.S. Navy SEALS provided assistance to the South Vietnamese. These men trained South Vietnamese operators to take their places; good, honest men.
There were other assignments that never made the leftist press reports because it did not vilify the military. Instead it raised the hopes of true patriots around the world. These assignments are typified in this volume.
Child kidnapping and human trafficking is one of the lowest forms of hatred and cowardess against humanity. It has existed for millennia and debases the entire species of mankind. While counter human trafficking operations are described here, this was by no means the end of such activities. Still to this day, special operations groups fight this scourge of mankind. Words cannot describe the lowest of humans that perpetrate this practice. The problem is, it won’t go away until the demands dry up; demands for sex slaves as well as indentured servants.
Regardless of the society that participates in and perpetrates this wretched practice, it is evil and wrong. Slavery, whether for indenture or for sexual reasons, is evil, base, cowardly and degrading to the perpetrator and recipient alike. There is absolutely no honor in this practice. Attacking children is hardly manly or honorable. Those that practice this are lice on the rear-ends of the lowest slime on earth.
Hopefully, this book will spark some recognition and realization that a society that claims it is free but encourages slavery through its demands for pornography, sexual deviation and servitude is wrong on so many levels. It is base, dishonorable and cowardly.
Chapter 1
The Captives Come
Rebecca Ann Austin
“This stuff smells like sssh……” came the quiet, disgusted hiss.
“You jackass. I told you to leave the bag closed and not to open it up until I tell you!” Stan’s low, disgusted reply came back even stronger.
Both men stood in the shadows of the building awaiting their prey – a young 9-year old girl named Rebecca Ann Austin. They’d never seen the girl, but figured she’d be one of the last ones around when no one came to pick her up.
Becky was leaving from a school play practice where she was a carrot in a Thanksgiving pageant that would be performed the next Tuesday evening for parents, grandparents and siblings. The fourth grade at Horace Mann Elementary School in Toledo, Ohio was known for its well-rehearsed and polished programs. This was shaping up to be another of the great ones.
Normally, parents would have provided rides for children leaving afte
r dark, but due to the hospital changing Becky’s mom’s work schedule, her uncle Henry promised to pick her up. He timed everything early so he could stop over at Morty’s for a quick one. His one became two and his whining got louder. A couple of new-found friends promised to go get her and bring her back to him there at Morty’s. In fact, they even bought him three rounds to keep him company; great guys. The last round had a slight addition, however. That drink would keep him face-down and busy all night long.
As the crowd began to thin outside the school gym, it appeared apparent which child was Becky. Stan casually walked over to Becky and quietly stated that her uncle Henry asked him to pick her up since he was tied up over at work. He said her mom was over at the hospital. Becky could call her mother to verify this over at the pay phone by his car. That way she would be more comfortable about going with them. She agreed and walked over to his car.
Tony waited at the car and when she reached the shadows, took the rag soaked in chloroform from the bag and forced it to her nose and mouth. He held it firmly against her face. Her muffled screams quickly subsided. They forced a wadded, dirty rag into her mouth, tied her hands and feet and placed her into the trunk of the car.
Slowly they exited the parking lot so as not to arouse any suspicions from the thinning parents, teachers and students. They drove over to Lasky Road, turned left and headed west out of town.
“When do you figure they’ll miss her?” Tony was the first to speak.
“Judging from the way that boozer of an uncle was putting the sauce away, probably not ‘til tomorrow when he sleeps it off,” Stan replied. “Besides, that extra mickey will also keep him out cold.”
They turned north and headed for Michigan. Over the state line, they then headed northwest. They drove all night until first light Friday morning. Their destination was Jonesville, Michigan. Becky continued to sleep.
At the Jonesville Ford dealer, a semi-truck sat with its rear doors open and vehicle ramps set up. Stan pulled the car into the van. There were two other cars already in the semi trailer. The ramps were then loaded, the doors closed, locked and sealed.
By 0700 the truck was on the highway. Stan and Tony went to the local diner for breakfast. They were famished. The $10-grand split down the middle meant both could enjoy their country breakfast in style.
Silha Paranga
Silha’s family lived near Ayutthaya, Thailand. Her family moved there two years before from the rural areas of northwestern Burma. They’d been forced to go somewhere, anywhere, to find work. There were 6 children in her family. Each day, the children would start their day never knowing where they were going to get their meals.
Both parents worked in a clothing manufacturing sweat shop. Silha could not remember when they had ever had time together as a family much less time to create her 4 brothers and sister. Each day Silha left their hovel of a house and walked into the town center. She would loiter behind the restaurants behind the battered, smelly garbage cans and dumpsters. She and her sister moved from one can to another, their plain cotton clothes, literally rags now, barely covering what would be considered decent. As an enterprising 10-year old, she would soon be working at her mother or father’s sweatshop when a position became available. It might mean her daily trips to the garbage cans with her youngest brother and sister might be coming to an end.
Then, one morning her mother came to her and said she needed Silha to come with both her and her father to meet a man. This man would be interviewing her for a job. Silha became extremely excited. The meeting place was on the east side of Ayutthaya. There were no stores or restaurants here, but the houses did look a lot nicer than where the Paranga family lived.
Her mind thought of all the great things she could do to help her family, but the best thing was that she would no longer have to eat out of garbage cans, or give her findings to her younger brothers or sister.
The man seemed nice enough. He had nice clothes and a quiet way. He spoke of many others he had helped. He told the three that it would not be long and they could all live in a nice house too. He told them they would have nice clothes and lots to eat.
Then he asked Silha to stand and slowly turn around. Silha did as she was told. Her mother started to tremble with inward cries. The man watched and a strange look came over him. His eyes narrowed ever so much and his smile clearly showed he recognized a young woman just starting to bud.
Silha felt very self-conscious. She caught sight of her mother and looked away. She became defiant. She would never eat from a garbage can again. It didn’t matter how much her mother cried. She would never do it again.
The man caught the very noticeable non-verbal exchange between mother and daughter and smiled inwardly. He then became very serious.
“She has had no man?” he asked no one in particular.
“Most definitely not!” The response from her father was much sharper than he expected. “Please excuse my voice. As I told you, she is only 10. She is but a girl.”
A dismissing wave of his hand said that was all he wanted to hear on the subject. It only mattered that she was a virgin and young. He would take care of the rest of her training. Again, he smiled inwardly with a lascivious grin.
“There is much she must learn. It involves much time on my part and much expense. I will give you 2000 baht for her.”
Her father stared, his mouth open. “But, you promised 4000 baht.”
“That was before I saw her. She must be clothed and taught how to serve. This will take much time and effort not to mention her food and board,” the human flesh dealer articulated as if to dispel any misunderstanding about the poor deal he claimed he would get.
Again, her mother began to quietly sob. She turned away from the evil man and did her best to keep quiet.
After a few moments, the flesh monger took a conciliatory tone and then offered his revised thoughts. “Alright, you can see I am in a very tight bind. I promised a very wealthy family a servant girl by sundown today and now you are trying to hold me up and rob me. I’ll give you 2100 baht, and not a satang more.”
Silha’s father looked first at the evil flesh peddler, then at Silha and finally at the tear-stained face of his wife. Disappointment spread across his face and indeed even in his posture. His shoulders slumped and his voice seemed to catch. “Alright.”
The transaction completed, Silha left with the man. She initially thought he was nice, but would now learn he could be both manipulative and cruel.
Silha was led to a Toyota van. Once inside, the man offered Silha a jar of sweet-smelling liquid. He commanded her to drink. He did not want a sick child on his hands. She drained the sweet-tasting liquid. Soon, she felt very tired and sleepy.
Julie Sue DiMarco
Julie Sue lived in the suburbs of Ft Worth, Texas, and was as open as the wide-open land she lived in. Music was everything in Julie Sue’s life. Everything had a beat. Everything had movement. Everything had rhythm. Everything had life. Julie Sue felt part of all things in life around her; the consummate optimist.
She started dancing as soon as she could stand. Her parents were totally impressed with her love of movement. She had natural grace. She seemed to flow with all the sounds of life. She had joie de vie; literally a love of life.
Her father was newly elected U.S. Congressman Robert L. DiMarco of the Fourth Congressional District. They were getting ready for a move to Bethesda, MD.
Her school, Wright Elementary School in Ft. Worth, Texas, had chosen to give her the Student of the Year award, as a fourth grader. The award, normally awarded to fifth graders, caused a significant stir among the older class members and their parents. Her Principle, Mary Drew, just couldn’t say enough good about her and agreed to take the heat for the slight to the older children.
Still, Julie Sue was loved by all, her parents, her peer classmates and all she encountered. To express that love she was constantly on the move. She acted out and performed everywhere. Even eating lunch at school was a joy to her.
She was the eternal optimist. Where some saw a pile of dog manure, Julie Sue saw a puppy somewhere nearby. Her parents worried that she was in for a great let-down as she grew older.
At the ripe old age of 9-1/2, Julie Sue still had not demonstrated any kind of feelings of hatred. She just would forgive honestly and quickly. She danced and sang through even the hardest assignments in school and through the hardest chores at home. Everyone wanted to be around her because she always seemed so upbeat and cheerful; always with a twinkle in her eye and a smile. It seemed infectious. Every one of her teachers wanted to just wrap her up and take her home.
Several days after the school assembly where she was given the Student of the Year Award, Julie Sue was walking home with two of her girlfriends. They were totally oblivious to the idling van parked a block from Julie Sue’s home. The decals on the van identified it as a utility van from the Bell Telephone Company.
Truth be told, the van had been stolen from the telephone company only an hour before. The two occupants had staked out the company’s motor pool yard and watched carefully for a van that had just returned at shift change. In theory that would mean no one would miss it for at least 8 hours. Since the keys were in the van, it was just begging to go for a ride.
Now the two men sat quietly watching the girls. They had their choice of the group. Yes, Slim had told them to get some young girls. He’d offered the two kidnappers $5,000 for each child. They watched the three girls and thought they might as well go for broke and grab all three.
Slowly the van inched forward. Darrel had already moved to the back. He had the shipping tape ready and a rag for each of the three.
Arriving alongside, Darrel threw the door open suddenly, leaped out and grabbed the first two girls. The other girl froze and just as she started to scream, he grabbed her too. He threw all of them into the van where Sal stuffed rags into their mouths and covered the rags with tape. After slamming the side door closed, both men quickly taped their hands and legs.
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