Doubled or Nothing

by Warren Esby

  “We’d know,” answered Jerry, but he didn’t sound convincing.

  “Ok. Here’s the deal. I don’t know if I can trust you to keep me safe now that the Russians are on the way. And I don’t want to give you anything and find out I’m wrong and end up dying because of it. I want some time after they get here to see if you can really protect me before I give you anything. I also want to build up some trust between us. It’s not that I’m such a fanatic about doing things for Russia that I won’t work for you as a double agent, but living is my main concern now and being protected afterwards is important. So I need to be certain and I need to be able to trust you. Trust works both ways and I’m not that comfortable with you just yet. And if I become a double agent, I’d want to be well paid for it. And get a new vehicle,” I added because I needed one.

  They both nodded and said, almost at the same time, “We understand.”

  “Okay. The one thing I won’t do is give anyone, either you or them, anything I have for the time being. It’s my insurance policy. So given that, what do we do next?”

  “Well, the first thing is that we do know you’ll need a new vehicle since we did blow up your Corolla, and don’t think we didn’t plan to replace it.” It was Ben’s turn to speak. “And we wanted it to be a big black SUV so it will blend into San Diego North County where most of the vehicles are large SUVs and over half of those are black.”

  “So you mean a Cadillac Escalade Hybrid?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” said Jerry. “They’ll look for that first. It’ll be a Chevrolet Tahoe Hybrid instead. We can’t have you looking like you’re working for us, you know.”

  I said, “Okay. But that will only slow them down for a few days at most. They probably already know I’m at the Salk Institute. They would have read about the old black Corolla that blew up there and they’re not stupid. They’ll put two and two together. It seems a waste.”

  “Actually it’s really for a different reason that we wanted you to have a big black SUV. They won’t let us send you back down to Rosarito Beach in that old Corolla. It just won’t hold enough, and they were afraid it would conk out right in the middle of the border crossing causing us all a lot of embarrassment.”

  “Who’s they and why do I have to go back to Mexico? What’s going on?”

  Jerry continued, “They are the Russians and the Mexican drug cartel and their subsidiary the Mexican police. They are in the business of smuggling drugs into the U.S. and we sometimes help them if it’s in our best interest, which it is right now for a variety of reasons.”

  “You mean smuggling drugs into the U.S. is in the U.S.’s best interest? The U.S. government is in the drug smuggling business. How can that be?”

  “Not exactly the U.S. Government, but certain U.S. government agencies like us which are working for the benefit of the government. So yes, in that sense, it’s for the best interest of the U.S. It’s complicated so I’ll explain how it works. As I’ve already said, we have certain arrangements with the Russians that help both sides. The Russians are in partnership with the Mexican drug runners so they can get their agents into the U.S. through the drug cartel’s routes. They supply them with drugs from their mid-east connections and get money from the drug cartel to help support their American operations. The Russkis are not that worrisome by themselves, since they’re no longer a super power, so having them get a few secrets here and there is no biggie. What we don’t want is Al Qaeda and other groups getting their terrorists into the U.S., and we can prevent that best with the help of the Russians and their Mexican allies. Once the Russian agents like you are in, they’re fair game and generally the FBI’s responsibility, but the FBI is currently overworked going after the opposition political party right now so we help out when we can, like in the case of sleeper cells. The whole system of you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours actually works pretty well, and we’ve been pretty successful in keeping terrorists out if you don’t count the cartel as terrorists which they are, but not political terrorists.

  “But why help them actually smuggle in the drugs?”

  “We only do that on occasion when absolutely necessary, like recently. The drug cartel has clients they have to satisfy, so when the DEA and the border patrol are successful in stopping a lot of shipments, we have to step in to make sure the demand is met or else the cartel that is not aligned with the Russkis will take over those customers. So we have to make arrangements to get the shipments through like the one you made a couple of weeks ago. You might say we’re using American ingenuity to smooth out a supply chain problem.”

  “So why do you make them pay you if you are just helping smooth out the supply chain problem?”

  “Because we have to get paid or the Mexican cartel won’t trust us. They don’t trust anyone who says they are doing it for altruistic reasons. They only trust people who are doing it for greed. We’ve learned the hard way and now demand payment. The system works like a well-oiled machine. The customers get their drugs, the Mexicans get their money, the Russians get their agents in, we keep terrorists out and everyone is happy.”

  It sure made sense to me except for one thing. “But why would they pay with marked bills since that could only allow one of their drug runners to get caught?”

  “Oh. We only did that to have something to snare you with. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have done it. No need. And the Mexicans didn’t know anything about it. We gave the marked bills to Boris who’s the Russian working with them in Rosarito Beach. You may have noticed him hanging around down there at the police station. He likes to wear a Mexican straw hat. Big guy with a mustache. He gave it to them for the payoff.”

  “Are they all wearing mustaches now?” I asked innocently. I wanted to be able to distinguish Igor from Vladimir who I should know if I’m supposed to be part of the same sleeper cell. Not knowing which from which could mean my death.”

  Right on cue, Ben said, “No. Vladimir shaved his off. He was hairy enough without it. But Igor, of course, being bald loves his.”

  Bingo! I thought.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “We hang around together for the next few weeks. See if we can keep you out of the hands of Igor and Vladimir. We need you to do another run for us as part of the current agreement anyway. Two runs, actually. We might as well use you since you’re available. And in the meantime we get to know each other better, develop a little trust, a little rapport. And then we go from there.”

  “Why not get Boris to ask Igor and Vladimir to lay off for now?”

  “Different group. Different mission. They report to different people. They don’t even know the other group exists and we sure aren’t going to tell them. And if you do, you’re dead for sure. We won’t even wait for a drone strike.”

  “You mean you’d go back to using an archaic method like a gun?”

  “Maybe. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  Ben and Jerry looked at each other and Jerry nodded, so Ben continued, “You know, we used to get issued pretty good side arms, but since we’ve been doing so many drone strikes, they figured they could save some money by issuing us real crap for side arms. They think there’s no need to give us good reliable Glocks or Sigs or even American made Smith and Wessons or Springfields, but they don’t realize this budget consciousness is really cutting down on our flexibility. They issued us these little .25 caliber Berettas instead that I know had been sitting on the shelf for years since no one would touch them. Beretta was getting ready to melt them down, but since Beretta already supplies the standard issue M9 military 9mm side arm, they threw a whole bunch of them in for only a few bucks more on a recent order. And they handed them out to all the domestic CIA agents. And now we can’t do some of the things we could do if we had real guns and not toys that can’t really do any real damage. When we complained, they told us the Russkis use the same .25 caliber Berettas that we do all the time now, and what’s good enough for them should be good enough for us since we’re in
the same business. We found out that’s true. I bet you have one of them in your pocket right now.” He could tell by the look on my face that he was right and he said, “Hah. Gotcha. I’m right,” and then he laughed, being pretty pleased with himself.

  “So why don’t you get yourself a good weapon? Say it’s a special need or something. Or just get one for yourselves without asking.”

  It was Jerry’s turn again. “We’re in the process of doing that actually, but we can’t kill anyone with anything but a standard issue fire arm or else we’ll get in trouble. We can only use personal weapons for defense and the investigation afterwards is pretty onerous. And the good ones just aren’t available to us. ATF has cornered the market on all the good ones and is shipping them down to the Mexican cartels for some reason or another. The official reason is so the drug cartels will knock each other off. But someone said they were doing it on purpose to make the cartel better armed than the border patrol so they could justify an increase in their budget. Someone else said it was to make money that wasn’t accountable to anyone so they could have their big once-a-month parties that they are known for. They invite a bunch of Mexican whores from across the border for the party. They used to just add a miscellaneous category to their budget, but since the budget has tightened up, they have to get the money somewhere else. They said they trade the guns for the whores who are employed by the cartel and they come over in big SUVs with gallons of Tequila for the party. They call those parties the Furiously Fast parties and they’re the envy of everyone on the border who knows about them. The SUVs are filled with drugs also, and they just keep going on to deliver the drugs further north after dropping off the whores and the tequila, and then they pick the whores up again on the way back after the party is over. I think they also have to take the empty tequila bottles on the way back so they won’t be charged with littering. It’s part of the arrangement. As you probably know by now, the border has its own code of conduct and both sides have learned to live together. It’s really a model for the rest of the world.”

  Then Ben continued. “But the Russkis who work down there can get any gun they want and Boris has a whole collection. He knows he can’t send them to his cohorts in the U.S. It’s not part of the agreement. But he can give us a couple and we hope they’ll be in the next shipment. Isn’t it ironic though? In order for the CIA to get good guns, we have to depend on ATF selling them to the cartel who gives them to the Russians who give them back to us. It’s almost like the Russkis and the cartel have adopted the ways of the Federal Government and are operating just like any other part of the government bureaucracy.”

  When we got back to my neighborhood, they handed me the keys to a brand new Chevy Tahoe that was parked next to the Baskin Robbins. They handed me a bunch of papers that indicated the Tahoe was actually in my name and fully paid for. They had also paid for an insurance policy since it was needed to get the car registered. Maybe working as a double agent had some benefits I thought to myself, even though I probably wouldn’t be enjoying them for very long. But at last I would go out in style. And then I asked something that popped into my mind. “Since this was given to me, won’t I have to pay taxes on it? I can’t really afford even the taxes on this thing on my salary.”

  The smile left Jerry’s face. “You know. You’re constantly surprising us with the questions you ask. I guess you guys from MIT are pretty smart like you’re supposed to be. We’ve never been asked that question before. But then again, we usually retain ownership of the car. We don’t usually just give them away. But you have to be the owner of record or else the Russkis will know that you’re working for us now. So we’ll find out and let you know. There is a paper in there that says the car cost fifty thousand. And you’re probably right. You’ll have to pay taxes on it and you can’t afford it. We know how much you make. But we’ll make you whole on this one. Don’t worry.” And with that they said goodbye. But before they did, they said they’d see me again same time next week, and I asked what would happen if Igor and Vladimir showed up. They told me I was probably safe for the week since the Russians didn’t like to do anything precipitously and would probably case me out for a week before moving in.

  Chapter 19

  The next weekend, they showed up on schedule. I told them I hadn’t seen Igor or Vladimir and they weren’t surprised. They hadn’t seen them, either. Then they gave me the good news. It was a bill of sale for exactly twenty five thousand dollars for one government surplus Chevy Tahoe Hybrid. I didn’t question the fact that the surplus vehicle had been received with only eighteen miles on the odometer. So now my tax bill was cut in half. Before I could express that thought, they handed me two copies of an invoice that said I was charging the CIA twenty five thousand dollars for border surveillance services and had received payment in either cash or kind. I had to sign one signifying I received payment from them in kind and keep the other for my tax records.

  “But I still have to pay taxes on twenty five thousand dollars, right?” I asked.

  Ben said “No, you can deduct from your taxes up to twenty five thousand in depreciation the first year for a business vehicle of this size that you need to use in your work, so the net effect on your taxes is zero. Pretty neat huh? Just put down you made twenty five thousand as a consultant on schedule C and deduct depreciation of the same amount for your business vehicle and report no net income. The tax boys say it’s completely legitimate. See, I told you we’d make you whole. Now we have some fun in store for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re going up to Camp Pendleton to watch them put in a new swimming pool.”

  “Why should I think that would be fun?”

  “Because of the way they do it. They use a new excavation method. They use drones.”

  “You mean they drop a bomb and form a crater?”

  “Right on, and we can get in to watch the whole process. They’re using it at all the officers’ clubs across the nation where they need new pools or don’t have one yet. It appears to be very cost effective over the normal excavation process. One strike and you have a pool dug. If it’s a big pool, maybe two strikes. We’ve heard about it but have never seen it in action. Camp Pendleton is the big base north of Oceanside on the coast and they need a new pool. They said we could get in to watch. Apparently it’s a big event and all sorts of people will be there to watch. There are hillsides all around the officers’ club and we’ll have good seats.”

  I had never been as far as Oceanside before, let alone Camp Pendleton, so it would be an all-around new experience for me. As we got into Oceanside on I-5, I thought to myself that it was a pretty mundane name. I seemed to recall that Oceanside was the name of a lot of coastal towns and every coastal state probably had at least one. I mentioned that to Ben and Jerry and they agreed. They said they had a similar discussion the last time they had been up that way and asked what I would have named it instead. I said that I had thought about Seaside because it would at least be shorter although it would be just as mundane and they agreed. As I thought of it, I said that at least they could have called it by a foreign name for Oceanside and then realized that Del Mar was essentially the Spanish name for Oceanside or Seaside and it was just down the coast, and it sounded a little better. They agreed again. And then the inspiration hit me and I said,

  “Since we have a Spanish name for Oceanside just south, why not use the French name for it for the one next to Camp Pendleton. I seem to remember that the French name for Oceanside was Mal De Mer. That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” I asked. “What do you guys think of renaming Oceanside, California, Mal De Mer, California to go with Del Mar, California further south?”

  Ben said, “I like it a lot and you should be commended for that effort. It does have a nice ring to it. Mal De Mer, California does sound elegant. We didn’t think of it because neither of us speak any French. But the solution we came up with is even better and less mundane. It doesn’t use Oceanside in any way.”

  “
Ok. What did you guys come up with?”

  “Well, here was our reasoning,” Jerry continued. “Like you we thought Oceanside and Seaside were too common, but they were accurate in describing where the city was situated and we liked that aspect of the names. But we came up with a better name that focused in on where the city actually was located and would not confuse it with Oceansides and Seasides in other states. The best name for it, really, is Pendletonside. It’s the only one that says it all. Don’t you agree?”

  I said, “You’re right. That’s the perfect name. It makes the most sense. It’s really the most intelligent solution for choosing the right name.” And I thought to myself right after I said that, that of course having the more intelligent solution was something I should have expected from two people who worked for an organization that had Intelligence in its title.

  We got into the camp with no trouble, and they followed the directions they were given to the hillside we would sit on to watch the drone strike. As we drove there, we passed what looked like it could be an officers’ club a few hundred yards before we got to the hillside, and although the club looked fairly new, the swimming pool did look just so-so. I asked them if that was the officers’ club and they said yes. We sat on a hillside filled with officers and their families. A hillside a little further away had a lot more people, and Jerry told me it was for the enlisted men and their families. It wasn’t long before we saw a drone approaching. We had got there just in time because of the heavy traffic on I-5. I sat and looked at the officers’ club which was visible from our vantage point, not wanting to miss anything.

  “What are you looking at? You’re going to miss it if you don’t turn around,” said Ben.