Hunting Savage

by Edlund, Dave;

  Lacey nodded and sipped her coffee, her gaze locked on her associate. Stephens finished reading the document, and then typed in a search phrase on her laptop. A couple seconds later the reply flashed on her screen. “Speaker Schuman has the endorsement of the American Israeli Foundation.”

  “Correct. And he’s the son of Jewish parents. In fact, his family history is quite interesting. He has plenty of material for a riveting autobiography—a surefire best-seller.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Stephens said, her voiced edged with excitement. “You’re suggesting that Abraham Schuman is in collusion with the Israeli government to keep the details surrounding the Liberty attack secret?”

  “No, not exactly. I am theorizing that Schuman has formed an alliance with the office of Prime Minister David Feldman, and that together they want to maintain secrecy surrounding the extent of U.S.-Israeli involvement in the Liberty incident.”

  “Okay,” Stephens said, her eyes narrowed. “There is certainly a religious and cultural connection between Schuman and Israel, but the same is probably true for a dozen or more members of Congress. Why is this case special?”

  “Well, Schuman is going to be the Republican Presidential candidate, for one. But bear with me.” Lacey retrieved another paper and shared it with Stephens. It was a list of attendees at a private fund-raising dinner three nights ago at the Hay-Adams Hotel in support of Schuman’s Presidential campaign.

  Stephens read the list and looked back at her boss with a blank expression.

  “Think about it,” Lacey said.

  “I am,” she protested, her arms open. “We have a Jewish-American, highly-respected member of Congress—the Speaker of the House for God’s sake—running for President. He has the usual corporate donors—many, no surprise, from his own district. And he has the endorsement of the American Jewish Foundation.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Put it all together, and I just don’t see any illegal conspiracy. It sounds pretty much like politics in America.”

  “What if I said that David Feldman is a member of the Jewish Home Party?”

  “Not surprising. The party has been riding a wave of popular support for a few years. With a struggling economy and a continued threat of terrorism from Islamic fundamentalists, the Israeli people are eating up the right-wing, nationalist agenda.”

  “Exactly,” Lacey said, her green eyes sparkling. “An ultra-nationalist Jewish government supporting the leading challenger to President Taylor’s re-election bid. What if Schuman is elected President? There’s no doubt he’ll extend U.S. support to Israel.”

  “But every U.S. administration supports Israel. I don’t see anything nefarious in that.”

  “And if it draws us into another war? Schuman is the lead author of the Israeli Security Act, and he’s been very vocal that he has the votes to override President Taylor’s veto.”

  Mona Stephens looked again at the list of donors to the Schuman campaign. “A lot of these corporations are in defense.”

  “That’s right.” Lacey leaned back in her chair, allowing time for Stephens to make the connections.

  With only the ticking sound from the clock on the wall, Lacey waited.

  Stephens raised her eyebrows. “Let’s assume Schuman is elected and pledges strong support to Feldman’s government. That could be all the encouragement the Prime Minister needs to pre-emptively attack Iran or Syria.”

  “Israel has made no secret of their dislike for the nuclear treaty President Taylor signed with Iran. And their warplanes did bomb the Osirak nuclear reactor near Baghdad years ago to slow Iraq’s progress toward nuclear arms.”

  “Right.” Stephens said, still pulling the threads together. “So, hypothetically speaking, Israel launches a pre-emptive military strike against Iran or another of its belligerent neighbors, confident that the U.S. will provide military and intelligence support.”

  “Plus airpower and troops if it goes badly.”

  Stephens nodded. “Yes. They could draw us into a regional conflict again.”

  “With Russia backing Syria and possibly Iran, it could outgrow a regional conflict,” Lacey said with a grim look.

  “But Schuman and Feldman are betting that they can contain the conflict. After all, it’s worked in all previous Arab-Israeli wars. So, Israel attacks her neighbors first—my guess is an air strike against military facilities in Iran followed by an invasion of Gaza. Later they’ll turn on Syria.”

  A thin smile appeared on Lacey’s face. “Did you notice who the number one donor is to Schuman’s campaign?”

  Stephens looked at the list again. There it was, the first name—United Armaments.

  She looked across the table at her boss. “So the defense industry makes billions supplying weapons to support the Israeli conflict. Even better if the U.S. is drawn in.”

  Lacey smiled. “It’s only a theory, but it does make more sense when you hear someone else say it.”

  Stephens smiled. She understood, of course, the element of self-doubt that could stifle deductive reasoning unless one had the benefit of bouncing theories and speculation off another person. She had these same feelings many times before. It was one of the aspects of working for Lieutenant Lacey at SGIT that she especially valued—she could freely hypothesize and refine theories through intelligent dialog with the other analysts. No one ever thought less of her for sharing half-baked ideas, and the resulting informal group discussions had always been beneficial.

  “There’s just one thing I’m still missing,” she ventured. “You said you thought this puzzle—the murders—has everything to do with the Liberty incident, and yet nothing at all to do with it. I’m still not making the connection.”

  “The answer is as elementary as it is fiendish. The events surrounding the attack on the USS Liberty…”

  “Yes?”

  “I think that was the blueprint.”

  Mona Stephens pushed her laptop aside and leaned over the table. “Whoa. Let me get this straight. Schuman and Feldman are following a plan that was first put into play by the U.S. and Israeli governments during the Six-Day War?”

  “I do. Given the information Gary Porter shared about the contents of those classified files, that has to be the connection.

  “In 1967, Israel felt threatened and desperately wanted to expand its geographical boundaries to put a significant buffer zone between the homeland and her Arab neighbors. In particular, the Golan Heights were a strategic priority to deny Syria the high ground. That fear lead to an Israeli first strike in June, the beginning of the Six-Day War.

  “Many of Lyndon Johnson’s cabinet members and closest advisers—including Arthur Goldberg, the U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations—were Jewish and staunch supporters of the hardliners in Tel Aviv. Defense Secretary McNamara had positioned the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean, not far from Egypt and Israel. Most noteworthy is that both of the fleet’s two aircraft carriers—the Saratoga and the America—were on station as part of a large naval task force in the Eastern Mediterranean.

  “There is only one reason for that amount of U.S. naval power in proximity to Egypt, the Sinai Peninsula, and Israel. Johnson had us poised to intervene on a moment’s notice if the tide of battle turned in favor of the Arab League.”

  “I’d love to read those top-secret documents,” Stephens said, shifting in her chair. “It just doesn’t make sense to me that Israel would attack a U.S. ship. I mean, how could they benefit from doing that?”

  Lacey raised her eyebrows. “That’s a question that historians, someday, will spend thousands of hours investigating. And those secret documents that Peter Savage and Gary Porter came across will likely shed some daylight on this mystery. At this time, all I can say is that based on public documents, it was a mistake on the part of a local commander. That was the official position from the White House and State Department as well.”

  “Mistake? I don’t believe that.”

  “Neither do I, but it’s easy to imagine such mistakes could ha
ppen during the heat of battle. It was a blitzkrieg—lightning war. Israel was fighting on multiple fronts against a coalition of nations. June 8, the day the Liberty was nearly sunk, was the eve of the invasion of the Golan Heights. Two days later the war was over. A ceasefire was negotiated by the UN, and although there are those who will argue that Israel wanted to press her military advantage and take more territory, the weight of international pressure prevailed and the hostilities ended with a negotiated settlement.

  “The Liberty began its life as a Victory Ship, hauling cargo. But she was reconfigured and modernized by the Navy to become an Auxiliary Technical Research Ship. In other words, a floating surveillance post. On the eve of the invasion, Israeli command would have been very sensitive to their radio communications being intercepted. They would have never agreed to sharing sensitive information such as troop movements and timetables with anyone for fear of the information being compromised. That fear would be sufficient grounds for an attack. But that decision could have been made at a low level—say a base commander.

  “So, the Liberty is under attack—by accident or on purpose, it really makes no difference—and Admiral Geis does the right thing and launches aircraft from each of his carriers. Not once, but twice, to defend the intelligence ship—”

  Stephens interrupted, “And those aircraft are quickly recalled by none other than the Secretary of Defense himself: Robert McNamara.”

  “That’s right,” Lacey added. “Once the attack on the Liberty began, Johnson, or maybe one of his advisers, recognized the opportunity. If the Liberty had sunk, the American public would have screamed for an immediate and decisive retaliation against the assumed aggressor—the Arab Coalition.”

  “The crew of the Liberty were nothing more than sacrificial pawns.”

  For a moment the two analysts looked each other in the eye, feeling the full weight of their assessment, and its implications to both historical perspective and current events.

  Lacey exhaled, feeling some of the weight released with her breath. “Really, when you think about it, the plan was close to perfect. Israel, with the tacit approval of the United States—perhaps even a handshake deal between Lyndon Johnson and Prime Minister Levi Eshkol behind closed doors—launches a first-strike, a highly-successful military campaign against her Arab neighbors. In the process, the Jewish State captures vast territories that have never been returned.”

  “And if it weren’t for the tragic events surrounding the Liberty, no one would ever know the truth.” Finally, the missing pieces fell into place and Mona Stephens understood. “If your theory is right, President Lyndon Johnson and Defense Secretary McNamara collaborated with a nation that was attacking a U.S. Naval vessel, deliberately sacrificing those poor seamen.”

  “If I’m right,” Lacey said, “Speaker Schuman and Prime Minister David Feldman want to repeat those events. They want Israel to pre-emptively launch a military campaign to change the face of the Middle East. And drag the U.S. into war.”

  Stephens leaned forward again, her hands gesticulating her concerns before the words escaped her mouth. “Somehow we have to get word to Commander Nicolaou. He could be walking into a very dangerous situation!”

  “Not yet. He was very clear to me. We have to get more evidence—concrete evidence. Then I’ll get Colonel Pierson involved.”

  “But ma’am,” she protested as Ellen Lacey held her palm out.

  “I share your concerns. The murders in Oregon could have been committed by elements of Mossad or private security forces funded by U.S. defense companies. The Commander knew what he was getting into; he knows how the game is played. Without hard evidence, all we have is a story. Now, if you want to do something helpful, get me something tangible. Preferably on Schuman or Meyers.”

  Chapter 30

  Sacramento, California

  April 22

  With a plausible theory to guide their investigation, useful information finally began trickling in. Lieutenant Lacey was reading the latest update from MOTHER, the SGIT super computer, when Mona Stephens knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Stephens marched directly to Lacey’s desk and planted herself in one of two chairs. “Good news from the Bend Police,” she said excitedly. “They asked for our assistance in providing any information on an FBI agent out of the Portland office named Barnes. The detective seems to think he may be an imposter.”

  “That’s interesting,” Lacey replied. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. The deceased woman at the outdoor equipment store has no priors with local law enforcement, and her prints are not in the usual databases.”

  “Not even the FBI?” Lacey asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “And this is supposed to be good news?”

  “It is. Detective Colson—she’s the lead investigator for the Bend PD—is pretty sharp. She sent the fingerprints off to the Defense Office of Personnel Records and requested a cross-check against service records.”

  Ellen Lacey straightened at this news. “Any word yet?”

  She shook her head. “No, not yet. It could take days. The case is relatively low priority since it is not related to national security or terrorism. But…”

  “You want me to make a phone call or two and bump up the priority,” Lacey said, her mouth turning up in a subtle grin.

  Stephens nodded in agreement.

  After a moment’s thought, Lacey said, “We can do better than that. MOTHER can access the records request and execute the crosscheck. We’ll expand the search to all accessible military and other databases. We should have the result within an hour. And this Agent Barnes, do you have a copy of his prints?”

  “I do. Colson already sent them to my email.”

  “Good, we’ll run his, too.”

  “Excellent,” Stephens replied. “That’s all I have for the moment. Any word from Commander Nicolaou?”

  “No. I don’t expect to hear from him until the mission is completed. Probably later today. You need to stay focused. The Commander is the best there is; he knows how to handle these situations.”

  “Even with the lack of intelligence? An SGIT strike team is normally well briefed when they enter a hostile zone. Commander Nicolaou has nothing—no intelligence about the force he is facing.”

  “You mean potentially facing. We don’t know that anyone is in the Oregon mountains other than the local law enforcement search team. We don’t even know that Peter Savage is there. That map trick may have been nothing more than a diversion to draw attention away while he fled east into Idaho or Wyoming, or north to Canada.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think you believe that. And, for the record, I don’t either.”

  “What I believe doesn’t matter. Right now we need evidence—tangible evidence that I can share with Colonel Pierson.”

  “I understand,” Stephens said, her face devoid of expression. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Angela Meyers is not taking my call. And she won’t return my voice messages. So we need to push this along, elicit a response.”

  “Go on.” Lacey tilted her head to the side, intrigued with the possibilities that her top analyst might offer.

  “Have Mr. Porter email that file to MOTHER.”

  The Lieutenant didn’t like the idea at all. Death followed that file.

  “No. It’s too risky.”

  “But we can protect him. Send SGIT operators to his home prior to emailing the file. When the bad guys show up, we apprehend them.”

  “I said no. Commander Nicolaou would never agree to placing a civilian intentionally in grave danger.”

  Mona Stephens sighed; it was worth a shot. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I need you to get MOTHER working on those prints. Let’s see who Jane Doe and Agent Barnes really are.”

  “I’m on it.” Stephens rose to leave.

  “One more thing,” Lacey said. “Take a look at this.” She pushed a sheet
of paper across her desk. It was only one page, and Stephens lifted it and quickly read the contents.

  As she neared the end, she raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell agape. Before she could speak, Lacey answered the most obvious question.

  “That came from a search MOTHER has been doing. It’s an obituary for Chief Petty Officer Tony Hart, printed in a small-town newspaper, somewhere in northern Georgia, I think. That’s why it took so long to find it. MOTHER was programmed to search records following a hierarchy that placed higher priority on more significant publications and news broadcasts. This newspaper must have been pretty far down on the list.

  “In 1967, Mr. Hart was stationed at a U.S. Navy relay station in Morocco that handled radio traffic between Washington and the 6th Fleet.”

  “According to this report,” Stephens said, “Mr. Hart overheard the communications between Rear Admiral Geis and McNamara. He says Geis refused the order to recall aircraft from his carriers, aircraft that were launched to protect the Liberty.”

  “The Admiral insisted he would only do so if President Johnson gave the order directly. So Johnson gets on the phone and does just that, saying he didn’t care if the men on the Liberty were killed and the ship sunk.”

  Stephens handed the paper back to her boss.

  Lacey placed it back in the ever-growing stack of documents. “Since Geis is dead, as are McNamara and Johnson, no one can corroborate this recounting of events. But there must be something in those files.”

  “My God, you were right all along,” Stephens said. “No wonder they buried this deep and still won’t disclose what really happened. Johnson and McNamara are guilty of treason.”

  Chapter 31

  Eastern Drainage of Broken Top

  April 22

  Oregon State Police Captain Oscar Sheffield assembled his team early, an hour before sunrise. They would eat and be briefed, ready to renew the search for Peter Savage even before the first rays of sunlight. The night had been clear, cold, and still. Good, he thought. The scent will still be reasonably fresh, and tracks will be undisturbed.