Blue Gemini

by Mike Jenne

  The ten men were no longer members of the US military. Their records had been painstakingly expunged of any reference to military service or government affiliation. According to a briefing that Henson had received at Eglin, once he was released from this effort, his military status would be reinstated; at such time, he would be credited with time spent on the Project, and he would receive back pay. Until then, he and the others were employees of Apex.

  They were here to be tutored by a Mister Grau. They had been warned not to ask Grau about his background or previous employment, but knew that he had recently retired from an agency where he had been deeply immersed in decades of clandestine work around the globe.

  “In here. Take a seat, eh, any seat. Don’t touch anything until I tell you to,” said Grau, as he stood beside a door and ushered them into a storage space that had been converted into a makeshift classroom. He didn’t appear capable of standing entirely still, but slowly wobbled back and forth like a derelict building on the verge of imminent collapse.

  In the cramped room, there were two long tables facing an unpainted cinderblock wall. Each table was set with five metal folding chairs. A single fluorescent light fixture sputtered and hummed, casting more gloomy shadows than light. The room smelled of mildew and dust. A rusted coffee can sat in a corner, catching a steady drip trickling from the ceiling.

  On the table, in front of each seat, was a bag or satchel of some kind. Henson took a place at the back table, behind an ancient attaché case. Its cordovan leather was faded, deeply cracked, and smelled like an old pair of work boots. He thought to open it and look inside but remembered Grau’s admonition and thought better.

  In the course of his covert career, Grau had obviously endured considerably more wear and tear than the average government bureaucrat. He was missing the middle and ring fingers from his left hand and the little finger from his right hand. He walked with a pronounced limp in his right leg, as if his knee was partially fused. A black patch covered a vacant socket where his right eye had been. His remaining hair was white and his skin was sickly pale.

  Using an old wooden cane, Grau slowly hobbled to the front of the room. He hooked the cane’s crook on the edge of the front table and lowered himself into a folding chair. He sighed, closed his remaining eye, and then softly announced, “I’m Mr. Grau. Welcome to Double Nought Spy School.” His hands trembled almost constantly, as if he was stricken with palsy, but his voice was steady and calm.

  He opened his eye, blinked, looked over his charges, and then continued. “Hah! Just kidding. First of all, for you fans of James Bond or Jethro Bodine, if you have notions of running around the world wearing a tuxedo, sipping martinis and shooting enemy agents, then you need to dispel those thoughts from your head.

  “After you’re done here, and we shove you fledglings out of the nest and into the world, you will have no official status that affords you any special protection. In most cases, you’ll be working entirely by yourself. You’ll carry only documents and credentials that identify you as employees of Apex Minerals Exploration. We’ll give you sufficient training to pass yourselves off in this capacity, but otherwise you’re on your own.

  “Let me make something emphatically clear: there is no safety net or back-up. If you’re stranded in some godforsaken rat hole of a country and have to call the US Embassy or consulate for help, you’ve already screwed up. The Embassy people won’t have a clue that you’re in the country as anything other than someone just trying to make a fast buck. Consequently, they’re not going to be inclined to throw you a rope and drag you out of trouble.

  “I will train you how to not act like a spy. In most places you’ll visit, there’ll be some form of secret police. They’ve been trained to not trust foreigners. They will naturally assume that you’re visiting their domain in an intelligence-gathering or illicit capacity. Your behavior has to convince them otherwise. If you act like a spook, they’re going to assume that you’re a spook.” Grau looked up at Henson. “Eh, spook’s just another word for spy. No offense.”

  “None taken,” answered Henson. He smiled. Most of the other men laughed. He noticed that some of the men seemed uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Grau’s spook reference or whether they were just uncomfortable with him being here in the first place.

  “Good. Roughly ninety percent of what you’ll be doing is logistics work,” stated Grau. “It’s not glamorous or exciting, but it’s very necessary. All of this effort is to support a contingency mission, so mostly you’ll be locating and contracting equipment that we’ll probably never use.

  “When you go into a location, you’ll usually establish one of two different types of contingency sites. The first type is an emergency landing site. That’s a remote airstrip where a strategic asset can land in an emergency. In the coming weeks, we’ll teach you what to look for and how to survey such an airstrip without drawing attention to yourself.

  “Since things can drop out of the sky in the middle of the night, we’ll teach you how to light an emergency strip so a pilot can land safely. The pilot might also need an electronic beacon for the pilot to home in on, so we’ll show you how to assemble a beacon and operate it.

  “The second type is a staging site, where we can stash people from the operational squadrons. Normally, we position them in relatively friendly countries so we can be ready to conduct rescue and recovery operations in adjacent countries that might not be so friendly.”

  Grau reached into a pocket of his rumpled poplin jacket and tugged out a plastic pillbox. He selected a white pill from a multicolored assortment, and casually popped it into his mouth. He swallowed with some difficulty and then continued. “Setting up a staging site is normally more involved than establishing an emergency landing site, since you’ll usually have to coordinate for the trucks and airplanes required to ferry our folks from the first country to the second.”

  “I don’t understand,” said one of the men. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, older than the rest of the group. Henson didn’t recognize him from Aux One-Oh, and he apparently had been out of training long enough to cultivate long hair, a shaggy beard, and a paunch around his middle. “Instead of all this coordinating and contracting, wouldn’t it be a lot simpler just to bring in a C-130 full of troops? They could just sit there on strip alert until they’re needed.” A few of the men nodded in agreement and talked quietly among themselves. Henson had to agree; all of this clandestine Apex business sure seemed like a complex and unnecessary undertaking.

  “Settle down, settle down,” admonished Grau, as if he were a schoolteacher contending with a roomful of unruly schoolchildren. He flipped up his eye patch and gently scratched the interior of his empty eye socket. “Well, let’s ponder that question. Let’s assume that we have advance word that a highly classified reconnaissance aircraft will be flying from Point A to Point B. It’s imperative that this aircraft not fall into enemy hands—or anyone’s hands—if it has to make an emergency landing. So, we place emergency landing sites in friendly or relatively friendly countries, as I’ve told you, and we also develop staging sites so that we can launch into less-than-friendly countries if need be. Make sense so far?”

  The scruffy man nodded.

  “Now, concerning those staging sites, we have at least two alternatives which we’ll call Option A and Option B. In Option A, we land a C-130 full of troops at a staging site and leave them there for the duration of the mission, however long that might be. The troops come loaded for bear, and they’re ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Eh, how’s that sound?”

  “Sounds mighty damned good to me,” declared the man enthusiastically.

  “I thought you might agree, but there’s a problem. Landing a C-130 full of troops somewhere lets everyone know that something big is about to occur. Besides that, it usually requires a stack of diplomatic paperwork and a lot of cash on and under the table to secure landing rights and such. So Option A might not always be the best way to go,
agreed?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Hah! Let’s not guess,” replied Grau, briskly slapping his thigh. “Now, let’s consider Option B. Since we have advance notice, let’s find a place to hide a bunch of men and their equipment, and then we’ll slip them into the country quietly, one or two at a time, from different directions.”

  Grau continued. “Let’s assume that we’ll need an airplane to fly them into the second country. Granted, it would be nice to have a C-130, but an old DC-3 will suffice for most of our requirements. They’re everywhere. There might not be a single flush toilet in the entire country, but it’s almost a certainty that you’ll find a DC-3 for hire, or something of similar capabilities. Anyway, our little pocket army stays hidden there for the duration of the mission, and if nothing happens, they just dissolve away the same way they came. So, Option A or Option B?”

  “I guess I would go with Option B,” conceded the man finally.

  “Good. If you remain with us, you’ll eventually see that there’s a method to our madness.” Suddenly, Grau was beset with a coughing fit that bent him over double. It took over a minute for his hacking to subside. Regaining his composure, he pulled out a worn handkerchief and wiped his mouth. Henson could see that the faded handkerchief was spotted with fresh blood.

  Grau slipped a silver flask from the inside pocket of his jacket and took a sip from it. “Now, since I’m training you to be double-nought non-spies, let’s discuss cover stories. All of you have probably read a spy novel, so you probably know the phrase ‘cover story.’ A cover story is simply a plausible reason for being somewhere and doing the things you’re doing.

  “We strive to keep things simple,” declared Grau. “As long as you toil under the Apex umbrella, you will use just one cover story. One size fits all. So long as you stick to the story, you shouldn’t have any problems. If you deviate from it, or decide to fabricate your own embellishments, then you’re on your own.

  “Here’s the story. You’re visiting their country because preliminary geological studies indicate the presence of a potentially valuable mineral. It won’t be something of immediate value, like gold or platinum or diamonds, but a substance that will require considerable processing to render it into something of worth. That is, if it’s found, and if it’s found in sufficient volume.

  “Now, we’ll impart you with just a smidgen of geological training, at least enough to be reasonably conversant, but we don’t intend for you to pass yourselves off as geologists. As far as the locals are concerned, your job with Apex is more that of a scout, to poke around to find traces of the mineral. And you also establish contacts and locate resources to move people and equipment around to extract the mineral should it be found in large enough quantities.”

  The scarce color in Grau’s sallow face suddenly faded, like he was about to keel over. Sitting down, he said, “If you do your job well, local officials will be cooperative because they’ll assume the project’s success will bring money for the local economy and—more importantly—cash that will flow directly into their pockets. But always remember that this is a long-term effort. It’s important that you forge lasting relationships but also that you don’t make promises.”

  “I’m not sure I like this,” said Henson. “If we know that the mineral is not there, aren’t we just building up people’s hopes? Aren’t we just exploiting them?”

  Grau slowly stood up and consulted a class roster. “Eh . . . Henson, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, Mr. Henson, ultimately you’re correct. But here are some points to consider. First, you don’t ever make any promises. When you communicate with the locals, you always portray the situation as a long shot and consistently express doubts that the mineral will ever be found. Let’s face it, if we were confident that the mineral was going to be found there—theoretically—then Apex would send in a real geologist and not a second-string player like you. As far as the locals are concerned, you’re just another working stiff who’s just doing what you’re told to do.”

  Placing his hands over his head, Grau stretched slowly, like a bear emerging from months of hibernation. His body literally creaked as he stretched. “So we’ll never find the mineral. But while you’re there, you’re spending money, so there really is money flowing into the local economy. So I don’t agree with you that we’re exploiting anybody. Do you agree, Henson?”

  Henson nodded reluctantly.

  “Now, this story lends you the latitude to move around the countryside with relative freedom. You can purchase maps, be inquisitive, take lots of pictures, and write copious notes. And although this is not an intelligence mission, you still need to pay close attention to details like road networks, military forces, police forces, airport security procedures, and the like. Over the course of the next few weeks, I’ll show you what to look for when you visit a country.”

  Then Grau frowned and added, “But let me warn you, it’s almost a certainty that you’ll be hauled in for questioning at some point. As I implied earlier, some local officials will assume you’re a spook, no matter how innocent you appear to be.

  “Once you’re arrested, your first instinct will be to buy your way out of trouble. That’s a huge error. When you’re swift to offer up a juicy bribe, you’re causing the locals to think two things. First, they’ll assume that you’re connected to an organization with a lot of dough, so now your options are limited to slinging cash around instead of sticking to the story and being frugal. Second, and more importantly, resorting to a bribe verifies that you have something to hide.

  “Since we’re on the topic of money, open those bags,” said Grau.

  Henson opened the attaché. Peering inside, he saw that it was jammed with loose US currency of different denominations, as well as rolls and packets of other currencies. He remained quiet, as did most of the other men, but some of the new students whooped like they had struck the big jackpot at a Vegas casino.

  “Once you’re overseas, you’ll be managing a lot of cash,” explained Grau. “The objective of this exercise is to make you comfortable with handling and accounting for large sums of money. We could talk about this in theory, but the best way we can condition you to handle money is to place it in your hands. So, that money will stay with you for the duration of our training here.

  “Each of those bags contains two thousand dollars in US notes and a thousand dollars in other currencies. I want you to count and organize it, and then you’ll sign a voucher for it. While you’re here, you’ll pay for all your living expenses out of that money. Hotel rooms, meals, transportation, supplies, film, whatever you require. There’s also a ledger in there. You are to account for every penny that you spend.”

  One of the men asked, “What about this foreign money? We can’t spend this here, can we?”

  “No,” replied Grau. “You’ll turn that in at the end of the training, but we want you to become accustomed to handling it. When you travel, you’ll not always have the luxury of paying for everything in US greenbacks. As an example, if you’re in a country where the most commonly accepted currency is the franc, you don’t want to accidently hand a taxi driver fifty dollars worth of francs for a three-dollar cab ride. So we’ll run through some simple drills to keep you on your toes. If I ask you to produce the equivalent of, say, ten dollars in German marks, then you’ll have thirty seconds to dig into your bag and plop that amount on the table. Verstehen Sie?”

  The man smiled slightly, nodded and replied, “Jawohl, Herr Grau.”

  “Sehr gut. Very good.” Grau smiled, and said, “Now, here’s the big news. Every operational site is budgeted for a certain amount of money. The amount varies according to the requirements and where it’s located. Before we send you on an assignment, we’ll front you the budgeted amount in cash, or we’ll make arrangements to wire it to you if it’s not safe to travel there with a big bankroll stashed in your suitcase.

  “Now, here’s your incentive to stick to the story, be frugal, and not p
ay for everything with bribes,” said Grau. “If you come in under budget for the site, you keep the remainder. But there’s a caveat: we’ll reconcile your books and double-check your work to make sure that you did all the coordination and contracting necessary to execute the contingency, should it be necessary, but you gentlemen stand to accrue a sizeable profit if you play your cards right.”

  This was a dream come true, thought Henson. Not only would he be able to work on his own, but there was actually a chance to make a profit. What could be better than this? Looking to the future, Henson mused on how he could use the surplus cash. Certainly, between the GI Bill and the extra money he stood to garner, he could finish his degree, probably at a school more prestigious than LSU. Maybe there would be enough to help his mother expand her café.

  A voice interrupted Henson’s thoughts. “But what if we go over budget?” asked the pudgy man with long hair and unkempt beard. “What if we need more money to work a site?”

  Grau shook his head. “If you need more funds, then we will disburse more funds. But let me explain something. Provided you’re doing your job right, we want you to make some money for yourselves. If you have a stake in the game, it’s far more likely that you’ll play your part and stick to the story.”

  Henson was intrigued with the merits of the ingenious scheme. Conscious that the money was effectively coming out of their pockets, they were more likely to act responsibly, instead of running amok like drunken salesmen on an unlimited expense account. They would be more motivated to stay in a reasonable hotel instead of a lavish five-star palace, and wouldn’t be as inclined to squander a lot of cash on wine, women, song or fancy dining. They were more likely to conduct themselves in a sensible manner, and subsequently draw a lot less scrutiny to their actions. It also made sense from a business standpoint; instead of writing checks on an endless account, they would be encouraged to actively negotiate.