Cinch Knot

by Ron Walden

  Each squirmed in their chairs and nodded. There were unanswered questions but each knew they did not dare ask. Bergstrom was not a tolerant man and none of the men wanted to tempt his wrath.

  “Belafont, I want a complete report as soon as possible, and keep the Department of Transportation out of it. I don’t want anyone from the government meddling in this business.” Nels said, biting into a sugar cookie.

  “Yes, Mr. Bergstrom. Will there be anything else this evening?” Belafont said facetiously.

  “That’ll be all gentlemen. Go and enjoy the party. I’ve brought some lovely ladies from town to keep you company. You should each find what you want.”

  The men were silent as they left the room. Each was listing options in their heads. It was political suicide to publicly endorse Bergstrom, but it was personal suicide to cross him. Each man knew he was trapped by one of the world’s most powerful, and ruthless men. The four stepped onto the patio and joined the party. It was a welcome diversion.

  Talbert made certain Mr. Bergstrom was alone before escorting Bates into the office.

  “Al. Did you rest?” Nels asked.

  “Yes, I did. You have a job for me?”

  “Umm humm.” He said from the rim of a glass. “Two old enemies have resurfaced. One is an FBI man by the name of Roger Dorfmann. I’m not too worried about him because his position with the FBI will keep him restrained. The other is an ex-deputy sheriff from Northern California by the name of Dan Webster. I want him taken care of. He was the security guard that followed the pig from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez. I nearly killed him once and he may try for revenge. He’s a tenacious SOB and more dangerous. Check it out.

  “I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon, for a few days. The pursuit is in your hands. Our plan must move forward as scheduled or we’ll lose a great deal of money. We can’t be distracted by some security guard.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Bergstrom,” Bates said and he left to join the party.

  Talbert had remained in the office with Bergstrom. “I’ve everything packed and all the papers ready for tomorrow. I believe I have everything ready to go. My assistant will be here to forward any new information to us in Brussels. Will there be anything else tonight, sir?”

  “No. I think we’ve covered everything. Take the night off. Just have the cook send me some dinner. I think I’ll eat and go to bed. I’m tired of worrying about Webster. I don’t like surprises.”

  In the DEA supervisors office Monday morning, stacks of files and papers smothered the desk; reports on passengers aboard the Citation on Friday evening; reports on guests attending the party at the Apache Lake Ranch; interviews with the Japanese technicians in Anchorage; no new information; a list of probable people expected in Brussels. The list of names was interesting. It included the OPEC ministers, the Mexican and South American oil interests, representatives from the major oil companies of the United States and Europe. The list also included General Kisishkin, Mr. Yamamata, and Nels Bergstrom. The CIA would keep an eye on the proceedings in Brussels.

  An interesting situation occurred Sunday morning. The surveillance team had seen Al Bates board the helicopter, presumably for a ride to town. A hurried trap was set at the Bergstrom Enterprises building, downtown. The FBI had agents at the front door and at the garage entrance. The helicopter never showed. Instead of making its regular landing at the office building, it went directly to the airport where Bates caught a flight to San Francisco. He left the airport by the time agents from the San Francisco office of the FBI could respond.

  Although the FBI had no way of knowing, Bates had not left the airport through the front door. He had changed his name and boarded a commuter plane bound for Santa Rosa. He rented a car there and drove the hundred miles to the small northern California town where Dan Webster had once been a deputy sheriff.

  Bates had been trained for his profession by the United States Army. He was a Captain in the special forces during the Viet Nam conflict. The army had taught him well and he knew how to gather and correlate information. He also knew how to formulate and carry out an attack strategy. In the years since the war, he had become an efficient, intelligent killer, and an important member of Bergstrom’s staff.

  Bates spent Monday at the courthouse gathering information about Webster. He was surprised to find that many people still regarded him as an outstanding law man. Many remembered when Dan married Beth. A trip to visit Beth’s folks provided more insight into the private life of Dan Webster. Dan’s father had been killed in a logging accident when Dan was in high school. Dan’s mother died shortly after he returned from his army tour. The Webster family didn’t come back from Alaska often.

  Monday evening Bates chartered a small plane and flew to Eugene Oregon where he again changed his name and boarded a plane to Seattle. He changed his name again and flew to Anchorage. There he assumed the identity of a government agent checking the background of Dan Webster through the Trans Alaska Pipeline Service Company, Personnel Department. A secretary at Pipeline Security Corporation was doing individual timekeeping on Webster. Using his phony government ID, he was able to obtain a copy of time cards, travel and per diem vouchers. Dan was in Phoenix with John Sutter. On the return flight he changed his name in Seattle, Houston, and Denver—always the careful man.

  Thursday morning, the news from the World Oil Summit was shocking. The oil producing nations had agreed on a world crude oil price of $65.00 per barrel. Oil production would be reduced by 40%. The Arab countries had agreed, only, after assurances that the gross income to their countries would be greater than at present. They had an added incentive of assurances that the two royal families of the two largest oil producing nations would be released unharmed. Attempts by the press to interview delegates to the conference were waved off, and the participants departed from Brussels as quickly as possible.

  The United States called an emergency meeting of the United Nations Security Council to protest the manipulation of oil prices on the grounds it would destroy the world’s most industrialized country’s economic structure.

  By noon Thursday, a furor exploded unequaled in Congress since the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Senator Tillman called for economic sanctions against OPEC. Such a sanction made as much sense as shooting yourself in the foot, but it created confusion and divided the voting blocks into debating teams.

  Senator Frost called for a congressional investigation of the major oil companies in the United States. He demanded to know who authorized the American oil companies to go along with the agreed new price of crude. “The entire economic and monetary structure of the United States is under attack,” he said. “If allowed to continue, the most mobile nation in the world will grind to a stop. The most stable currency in the world will be shaken from its base and become as worthless and the postwar German mark. I demand this nation take a stand against this assault on our economy. And I ask the other consumer nations of the world join us in our fight to return stability to oil pricing.”

  It was late Thursday afternoon when John Sutter called Roger Dorfmann at his office in Anchorage. Roger was very busy in recent days, preparing his case for the Federal Grand Jury. It was no easy task. No one, with current FBI experience, could remember the last time a foreign national had been indicted for acts of terrorism in the United States. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Two security officers were dead because of this crime. Terrorism, as well as murder, carries a death penalty. Since Roger asked the Federal District Attorney to file for the death penalty, it was important every fact be documented and verified. Gwen worked very closely with him. She had also been a great comfort and had taken the edge off his tensions.

  Miss Dill was on the intercom when Roger lifted the receiver.

  “Mr. Sutter and Mr. Webster are on line one for you, sir.”

  “Thanks, Judy. Send Gwen to my office; I want her here for this call.” Roger pushed the button transferring the call to line one. “Hello John. Are you there, Dan?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, I’m here. How are you Roger? Anything new?”

  The door to Roger’s office opened and Gwen entered. Roger motioned for her to pick up line one on the other phone in his office. “Nothing new on this end. I have Gwen on the line now. How are things going down there?”

  “Hi, Dan,” Gwen interrupted.

  “Hello. How is that old man treating you?”

  “He hasn’t made me ride three hours in an airplane with no flight attendant or bathroom, like you did.” She laughed.

  “Then things are looking up for you.”

  Things are really heating up in the oil market, aren’t they?” Roger commented. “Is there any information that hasn’t made the papers?”

  John answered his question. “I might have something for your office. Friday night there was a big party, including hookers, out at Bergstrom’s ranch. I have an officer under cover, working the midtown business bars. She was with another girl who was invited to work the party. She asked my officer if she would like to go to the ranch and attend the party; pay was good drugs would flow freely. My officer, Debbie, said when she got there, it was unbelievable. I have a copy of the guest list; all prominent Arizona and California businessmen. Then the jet came in from Washington, D.C. with three senators and an Undersecretary of Commerce. Debbie positioned herself near the bathhouse where the drugs were distributed to see who came to the bait.

  “The list of drug users she compiled at the party is extensive. I’ll fax you a copy. The interesting thing is, it included Senator Frost and Senator Wayman. It also includes Undersecretary of Commerce Belafont. Senator Tillman attended the party but was too busy chasing bikinis and drinking expensive scotch to get involved in drugs.

  “Debbie said when the four first arrived they had some kind of meeting with Bergstrom. She didn’t know what the meeting was about, the four left very unhappy.”

  “The FBI has been investigating influence peddling for a long time,” Roger said, “If you’ve got accurate documentation from Debbie, we can nail those four to the wall. It may be the break we need to get inside the group. I’ll go to Washington myself and check it out. That way I can find out what they know about the pipeline bombing. When I go, I’ll take Gwen. I’m not leaving her alone until this mess is cleared up.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner, but I didn’t get to read the report until this morning. Let me know what you find out in Washington. If you can get just one piece of evidence against Bergstrom, we’ll haul him in.” John was excited at the prospect.

  “I’m getting tired of sitting around while Bergstrom keeps on manipulating people and making the world a mess. There must be a way to make him nervous or force his hand,” Dan said, his frustration showing through.

  “Patience, patience,” Roger said, “We’ll get him. It’s coming together. He’s too big a fish to fry in one pan. We have to divide and conquer. I know how you feel, Dan, but if we go after him head on, we’ll lose.”

  Friday morning, 7 AM, Al Bates sat at the table on the patio with Nels. “You were right about Webster. He’s very dangerous. He’s intelligent and resourceful and is after you for revenge, to even the score; it’s personal with him. We’ll have to take him out to stop him.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Nels asked.

  “Yes, but it may be expensive.”

  “Do it.”

  Talbert came to the patio, walked to the small television set and turned it to CNN news. The President of the United States was speaking. “…my fellow Americans. In the past we have been able to reason with these people resulting in a fairly stable oil price and the continued stability of world economy. This new oil price increase has not been discussed with diplomats from this country nor from any other industrial nation. Attempts to meet with the ministers of the OPEC countries and with the executives of South American oil companies have met with failure. They refuse to communicate. One week ago, the price of a barrel of crude oil was $14.58 and today, it is $65. The transport of crude oil has virtually stopped in every nation. We cannot, and will not, stand by while American business and Commerce is threatened, or blackmailed, by irresponsible coalitions. Therefore, I have proposed the following temporary measures, effective immediately.

  “First. Effective at midnight tonight there will be rationing of all petroleum products. The Department Commerce will open offices in government buildings across America. Booklets of ration stamps will be issued on a Use Priority Basis.

  “Second. I am meeting with U.S. oil producers and asking them to increase the flow of domestic oil. This will put a heavy burden on Texas, California, and particularly Alaska oil producers. The Department of Commerce will attempt to soften the price of petroleum products to consumers by keeping the prices for domestic oil at a $20 level. I know this places an unfair burden on domestic producers, but it is necessary for the economic salvation of this country. I will not nationalize oil production in the United States as long as the oil companies comply with your government’s request.

  “Third. The Ambassador to the United Nations will take a plea for responsible negotiation to the Security Council. As your President, I am doing everything within my power to return this situation to normal. I am asking for your cooperation during this time of crisis. I will release a statement to the press as soon as there are any developments in this situation. Thank you, good day, and God bless us all.”

  Talbert turned the television off and turned to Bergstrom.

  “Sir?”

  “Al, take care of the problem we talked about.” Then turning to Talbert he said, “Get me Kisishkin on the secure phone.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

  Lianid Kisishkin had been an extremely busy man in the past few days. The capture and kidnaping of the Arabs had taxed his resources. He easily controlled the Russian pipeline, but the men he controlled would soon demand payment and Lianid did not have the money. He was well hidden and communications among the new nations, which once were the U.S.S.R., were inadequate. Kisishkin spoke into the secure telephone,

  “Nels, it is good to hear you. Is everything progressing?”

  “Going well. A few minor complications but none to worry over. I have a problem though; it has to do with the Alaska pipeline. The U.S. government is trying to supplement imported oil with Alaska crude, thus negating the OPEC oil price by controlling domestic production. They are successful because we failed to disable the pipeline. The oil flowing in the Alaska pipeline will fuel a political debate and prolong submission to our cause,” Bergstrom explained. “In the end we will prevail, but much time will be lost.”

  “Vhat can I do?” Lianid asked.

  “We are going to the alternate plan for disabling the Alaska pipeline. Are your stratagems in place?”

  “Yes. Vhat iss timetable?”

  “Will 24 hours be enough time for you?” Bergstrom asked.

  “The target vill be destroyed in exactly 24 hours. Shall I proceed with the repatriation of the two Arab royal families?”

  “Yes. We must follow through with the releases to maintain our credibility with OPEC. We must keep as many friends as possible along the way.”

  “It vill be done,” Kisishkin hung up.

  So far, everything had gone according to plan. Governments of the newly formed confederacy had more to worry about than the antics of a renegade General. The rumors of his army were, after all, only rumors. If he did own an army, he was not using it to interfere with the politics of the new confederacy.

  “Politicians, Bah! This plan vould not have been possible had the politicians spent more time seeking solutions and less time defining the problems,” Kisishkin thought. Soon he would be rich and he could afford to ignore politicians. He lifted the receiver of his military hot line. “Colonel Novonyi, this is General Kisishkin. Proceed with plan Alpha Echo Two.”

  “I confirm. Proceed with Alpha Echo Two. Vhat is target time, sir?” Novonyi asked.

  “Twenty-four hours. Any trouble with that Colonel?”


  “No, sir. Everything is ready. The ‘Training Mission’ will commence as planned and on your schedule. I will keep you informed.”

  Al Bates was operating on his own timetable. He “acquired” a large motor home with legitimate license plates. At 8 AM he and his henchman parked the Sportscoach in front of the Desert Sands Motel. Dan and John were already gone. Beth was alone in the motel room.

  Bates waited in the motorhome until two more trusted employees arrived. Bates walked to the door of the ground floor room and knocked. He heard rustling noises inside and the door opened.

  Bates put his foot against the bottom of the door, preventing it’s closure. He lifted the tail of his loose fitting shirt to expose the butt of an automatic handgun. “Don’t make any noise Mrs. Webster. I don’t want to hurt you, so come quietly.”

  “I’m not going with you! What’s this all about?” Beth began shaking, but at the same time she was looking for a way out.

  “You’re coming with me awake or unconscious. It’s up to you.” Bates snarled.

  Beth slammed the door against his foot, then turned and ran toward the patio door. Bates was right behind her. A man appeared on the other side of the glass door. She panicked and turned back only to face Bates. He grabbed her by the left arm and twisted. She yelped and fell heavily to the floor. The carpet fabric was rough and scraped a large patch of hide from her chin. Her shoulder and chest hurt from the brutal treatment. The pain in her left arm was unbearable. Bates wrenched her arm even higher behind her back; then a knee hit her elbow and stabbed her in the middle of her back, again knocking the wind from her lungs.

  The second man had opened the patio door and entered the room, bent down and twisted her right arm behind her back. She was gasping for breath as the two men lifted her from the floor by her twisted arms. She felt herself get woozy. She thought her arms were being pulled from her shoulder sockets. The two men half carried, half-dragged her to the front door of the motel room.