by Galen Winter
Den planned a single meeting with Gigi. He’d tell her about Aegis and the attempts on his life. He’d tell her he needed time to plan a perfect disappearance. He’d ask her to help him find a place where he would, at least for a few weeks, be safe from discovery. Then he would vanish from her life.
Chapter 15
It is possible to drive from Philadelphia to Tucson in three days. In a second hand Chevrolet pick-up truck, it’s easier to do it in five. The leisurely pace suited Den. He wanted time to think and to plan. He was safe for the moment and he was able to focus his attention on matters other than avoiding the immediate danger of being murdered.
Den looked back at Operation Ocelot with dismay. He berated himself for acting like an imbecile. He should have known that Guatemalan Colonel wouldn’t have the guts to try to kill a CIA agent without Langley approval. He should have recognized Teddy Smith as a consummate con artist.
“All those expressions of interest in my well being? All that drivel about the Guatemalan Colonel going off half-cocked? Just bullshit. A dangerous terrorist leader in the Guatemalan hills? How could I have been so naive,” he thought.
“The Agency knows what’s happening in Guatemala. If there’s a terrorist cell down there, they know it. If they ever heard so much as a rumor about one, they would damn well quickly get first hand information about it. That’s their business - collecting first hand information. They wouldn’t take the word of some Guatemalan army hit man. Teddy lied to me about Ocelot. He knew there was no terrorist cell. He knew Rodriguez wanted to kill students. He knew I wasn’t supposed to get out alive.”
With the 20/20 vision of hindsight, Den wondered how he could have been so gullible. On his way to Arizona, he accused himself of being a damned fool and put himself on trial. He was more than the defendant. He was also the prosecutor, the judge and the jury.
As the prosecutor, he argued the case against himself. He was forced to admit his inner voice had, long ago, given him fair warning.
He had elected to disregard it. That decision led him to unjustifiable killings on a lonely Guatemalan road.
Had he thought for a moment, he should have realized a scattering of cocaine, a phony passport or a discarded cap couldn’t convince anyone that the murder of some anti-Junta university kids was a drug transaction gone wrong. It wouldn’t have convinced Teddy.
Anyone with the brains of a rutabaga, Den was forced to admit, would know the best insulation to protect Colonel Máximo Rodriguez from the charge of death squad murders would be the body of a dead gringo - the same one who had holed up in a fancy hotel and damn near advertised in the newspapers for cocaine. “I should have seen it coming,” Den thought. “It just never occurred to me. It never occurred to me that I was expendable.”
There was no way for him to excuse himself. Acting as the jury, Den found himself guilty of the charge of being a fool. All he could do in his own defense was to promise it would never happen again.
As his own judge, Den took pity on himself. He withheld sentence, put himself on probation for the rest of his life and warned him. If he ever again acted like a damned fool, his probation would be revoked and he would be sentenced to death.
That sobering thought emphasized his continuing jeopardy. Escape from Washington did not end his peril. Important people in the CIA wanted him dead. If Aegis wanted to remain concealed and continue its clandestine operations, it couldn’t let him live. He had to be permanently silenced.
Aegis found Humberto del Valle in rural Chile. It seemed probable he was found because someone within his circle of friends, by purpose or by mistake, let something slip. Someone gave out a clue that led Aegis to the place where del Valle was hiding.
If Den stayed in the United States, sooner or later, someone would discover his identity. A CIA associate, a one time SEAL companion, a friend from his past - someone would recognize him and by luck or by design, someone in the Aegis organization would learn where he was hiding. Long term concealment within the United States would be risky.
The possibility of his casual identification would be reduced if he went to a place where no one knew him. He had to move out of the United States to some country where the chance of the discovery of his true identity was minimal. Even then, he would live with the constant fear of someone recognizing him. He would spend the rest of his life like Humberto del Valle, wondering when he would see a stranger approaching with a weapon in his hand.
As Den drove west, the search for him in the Belt Line terminated. The men who looked for him couldn’t find as much as his footprint. In the CIA complex at Langley, Jake Jacobson was seated in the chair in front of Teddy desk. “What do we do now?” he asked.
Teddy shook his head. “The toothpaste is out of the tube. How in hell did he get away?” Jake made a gesture, arms in front of him and palms up. It was a prelude to an explanation, but Teddy wasn’t looking for an answer to his question. Still shaking his head and ignoring Jake, he went on: “He’s loose and he knows we are behind the apartment shooting.”
Jake looked puzzled. “How do you know that?”
“If he wasn’t on to us, he would have called me and asked for help.”
“You think he’s no longer in Washington?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s gone. I don’t think he’d stick around, knowing we were the ones who took the shot at him. I’ve already run a check on the people who took outbound flights from Reagan and Dulles and all other area fields. Every passenger is legit. Den Clark didn’t fly out of here. His car is still in his underground parking space at his apartment building. I suspect he took a bus, but that’s only a guess.”
Teddy leaned back, his head resting on his interlaced fingers. He could imagine Den’s reaction to the failed attempt to kill him. Initially, it might be fear. Ultimately, it would be anger. Den’s anger could produce results Teddy preferred to avoid. He hoped his guess was right and Den had left town. He didn’t want him in Washington, planning a revenge that might take the form of a midnight bullet. Jake had failed. Teddy knew Den wouldn’t fail.
“It’s been nearly a week now,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”
Jake was surprised. “A good sign?”
“Yes, it’s a good sign. If Den wanted to blow the whistle on Aegis, he would have done it already. We’re safe as long as he’s quiet. There’s no point in embarking on a search for him. He’s gone and we don’t know where to look. If he’s going public, he’ll do it before we can find him. Let’s hope he has good reason to keep his mouth shut.”
Teddy had no intention of continuing the search for Den Clark. Jake wasn’t happy with that decision. He wanted another chance to kill him. “He might keep quiet,” Jake agreed, “but he might talk.” Jake emphasized the words “might”. “Do you think we can run that risk?” he asked.
“Den Clark holds the ax and our heads are resting on the block. He can use that ax today or tomorrow or whenever he chooses. Is it safe to think he’ll never use it? If you turn me loose, I’ll track him down and when I find him, I’ll take care of him.”
Teddy expected Jake wouldn’t like the decision he had made. He knew Jake hated Den and Den had no reason to harbor kind feelings toward Jake. He suspected Den knew about Jake’s involvement in Agent McCarthy’s death. That had to be the reason Den gave him the beating and sent him to the hospital. Teddy knew Jake wanted revenge and he believed Jake wouldn’t be satisfied until Den Clark was dead.
Jake’s animosity toward Den was clear enough. He pressed Teddy to use the double ambush scheme and it was concealed within Operation Ocelot. He pushed the plan to kill Den while recuperating in his apartment. Now, he wanted to find him and kill him. The pattern was obvious. Teddy knew just how much Jake wanted Denver Clark to die.
Jake wanted another chance to fulfill the promise he made to himself when he lay in the hospital bed recovering from his beating. Teddy wouldn’t give it to him. Instead, he told him: “You had your opportunity. You did more than miss. You gave him a warning. Den
is smart and now he’s wary.”
Jake began to remonstrate and Teddy silenced him with a wave if his hand. “I’ll give you another scenario, Jake. Neither one of us has an idea of where Den is, but let’s say you find him. Den might find you, too. Then you might get dead. Or Den might disappear again before you could…” Teddy paused for a second before adding with just a touch of sarcasm, “take care of him. We don’t want to spook him into sending an anonymous letter to the Director.” He paused for a second and then added: “or to the Washington Post.”
It didn’t take a genius to understand Jake was capable of telling any kind of lie if it resulted in Den Clark’s death. Jake’s obsession with killing Clark had put his own credibility in question. Teddy’s concern was growing. He wondered if, in fact, there was a man named Abdul. Jake might have pocketed ten thousand dollars and told him a fairy tale about the terrorist’s agreement to replace Den. Teddy had to be sure there was an Abdul and, if so, was he going to work with him and Jacobson.
“I’m going to say this just once,” Teddy said to Jake. “Forget about Den Clark. I’ll handle that problem. You’ve got other fish to fry. Making sure we have a solid replacement for Clark is your first job. I want you to bring Abdul into Mexico. Let me know as soon as he arrives.”
Teddy dismissed Jake, saying he had a number of matters requiring his attention. An unhappy Jake left his office. Teddy watched him leave. He slowly shook his head. “Problems come in bunches,” he thought.
Teddy didn’t know if his greatest danger lay in Den Clark or in Jake Jacobson. Jake’s planning of clandestine operations could only be characterized as excellent. He had a knack for misdirection and duplicity. Those Machiavellian qualities were as valuable as they were rare. Jake’s scheming abilities, however, didn’t blind Teddy to his defects.
Teddy was a pragmatist. He would cooperate with the devil himself if he saw an advantage. Jake was clever, but he wasn’t able to manage his ego. Jake carried grudges. Jake would destroy a man he didn’t like. The quality of the man’s work meant nothing to him. If the report Henry Putnam showed to Teddy was characteristic of Gigi Grant’s work, an excellent officer was lost when Jake forced her out of the Agency. Jake’s obsession with destroying Den was an example of his ego taking control of his brain.
Other defects were equally troubling to Teddy. Jake Jacobson was not burdened by any sense of loyalty to anyone or anything. Jake was motivated by self-interest. Jake’s downgrading of associates in the Projects Branch was his way of eliminating competition and insuring his own elevation to Teddy’s position when, and if, the time came. The ways Jake tried to curry favor were unambiguous. Jogging with him came to mind.
Jake was not trustworthy. Teddy had no solid proof of it, but he had no doubt of it. In his bones, he knew Jake would turn on him if by doing so he could save his own hide.
If he had it to do again, Teddy would not rescue Jake from the expected effects of his Syria insubordination. He would leave him in Damascus to stew in his own juice. If he had it to do again, he would not adopt the double ambush of Operation Ocelot. But Teddy had no H. G. Wells machine to carry him back in time and allow him to correct his errors. He had to play with the cards he held. He knew he’d have to deal with Jake sometime.
Teddy damned Jake Jacobson. If he hadn’t screwed up, Den would be dead. Of course, Den had gone underground. There was no point in looking for him. He’d be very hard, if not impossible, to find. Sooner or later Den would break cover and when he did, Teddy would deal with him. As long as Den made no waves, Teddy would sit tight.
Teddy hoped Den would keep his mouth shut. If he didn’t - if he scattered a bunch of anonymous tips to congressmen or newspapers - Teddy would be in for some heavy weather. He had already planned to throw Jake to the dogs, but he looked for another plan. It’s always best to have more than one string on the violin, just in case the first one breaks.
Later in the afternoon, the Deputy Director gave Teddy Smith five minutes of his time. Anyone else would have been shunted off to someone further down the chain of command, but Deputy Director Cullen Brewster appreciated Teddy’s reputation and always had time for him.
Teddy engaged in no small talk. “Thank you for your time,” he said as soon as he entered the Deputy Director’s office. “I’ll come directly to the point. We have a rogue agent in Clandestine Services. I believe the matter should be treated with the utmost discretion. You should understand the full extent of the problem.”
“Continue,” Deputy Director Brewster said, taking Teddy’s warning as calmly as if it were the morning weather report.
“One of our agents, Den Clark, was sent to Guatemala to investigate drug production and trafficking. You may recall he recently returned unexpectedly. He had two gunshot wounds.”
The Deputy Director nodded and said that he was aware of the mission and the agent’s early return to Langley.
“I’m sure you are also aware of the request for assistance made by Colonel Máximo Rodriguez - the request that was quickly and firmly denied.”
Again, Brewster merely nodded and Teddy continued.
“You’ve seen the reports of the drug-associated shootings of some Guatemalan students. Of course, we all believe Rodriguez arranged them since the killings so closely coincided with the request the Colonel made of us. It is my belief that Clark was bribed by Colonel Máximo Rodriguez to kill those students.”
The Deputy Director lifted his chin a few millimeters and, for only a second, his eyes opened just a bit wider, indicating an increased degree of interest. For Cullen Brewster, it was a display of emotion seldom shown. “Continue, please,” he said.
“Last week, I scheduled Clark for a face-to face in my office. He didn’t appear. I instigated a search. His apartment has been abandoned. No one has seen him. No one knows his whereabouts. We checked with all his known associates, the area hospitals and police records. Nothing. Nothing at all. Den Clark has disappeared.
“It is possible this matter may come to light and the Agency could be improperly criticized. We have reason to suspect Clark may have been involved in other killings as well. Due to the sensitive nature of the matter, I thought a verbal report might be more convenient that one in writing.”
The Deputy Director showed no reaction. After a few seconds he asked: “How do you propose to handle the situation?”
“We could alert our off-shore stations. Clark may have already left the country, but I doubt it. I’d guess he’ll stay hidden in the States for a while. When things have quieted down, he’ll, withdraw his nest egg from some Swiss bank account and, again, vanish.”
“Then we must find him before he leaves the country,” Cullen Brewster said.
This was not what Teddy had in mind. He did not want any search, foreign or domestic, to be ordered. A search could cause Den to protect himself by going public and that could end in the demise of Aegis and anyone associated with it. Teddy sat quietly and made no comment. The Deputy Director read Teddy’s silence as disapproval. He digested Teddy’s lack of enthusiasm. After a momentary pause, he added an alternative: “Or, we can do nothing.”
Now Teddy smiled. “That’s very wise, sir. I never thought of that. As usual, your suggestion is well founded. I certainly agree with you. The worms are still in the can. There is no reason to risk opening it. If the man feels safe and ends up retired in a house on the French Riviera, nothing will ever come to light. If something does surface, there should be no hint of possible CIA involvement in any of Clark’s murder for hire machinations.”
Without changing his expression, Cullen Brewster again nodded his head. Then he stood up and Teddy turned and left the room.
Back in his own office, Teddy’s mood was bright. He hoped Den would just disappear and keep his mouth shut. If he remained silent, there would be no problem and everything in the garden would be lovely. If Den tried to expose Aegis, certainly nobody in Langley, from the Director on down, would admit to CIA sponsored assassinations. Any suggestion o
f Agency involvement in the deaths of del Valle, Montoya or the Guatemalan students would be strenuously denied.
Teddy had set the ground work for the Agency’s defense. Cullen Brewster would admit Clark had once worked for the CIA. He would describe him as a rogue operative who vanished when suspected of criminal activity. He would admit Clark may have hired out as a private assassin and got paid a bundle to kill the enemies of whoever would pay his fee.
Joselito Montoya’s drug lord successor as well as Colonel Rodriguez and some unidentified father of some murdered Chilean student all had the means and the motives to hire Clark’s service as an assassin. Anything Den might say about a secret organization within the CIA would be dismissed as nonsense. Finally, if the heat got unbearable and a scapegoat was needed, there was always Jake Jacobson.
Teddy smiled. He had covered all the bases. He made detailed notes of what transpired in Deputy Director Cullen Brewster’s office. The Deputy’s suggestion of off-shore searches and, subsequently, of inaction were not mentioned. If Teddy was accused with collaboration in the Guatemalan deaths, he would have a written record showing he had advised the Deputy Director in a timely fashion. Brewster would have to take the heat. The Clark Affair no longer required Teddy’s attention.
In the days immediately following the Revolutionary War, the Brewster family did not join fellow Massachusetts Tories in their migration into pro-British Canada. They remained in Boston, facing the criticism of Hancock, Revere, Adams and others who had supported the patriots. The Brewster family stayed and continued to quietly build their already considerable assets as well as their reputation for philanthropic endeavors.
Through the years, the Brewster family occasionally produced a black sheep, but, in both number and percentage, far less than social statisticians would project. Banking, international trading, and venture capital investment were the family’s favored business occupations. Each generation advised their children to eschew both politics and any kind of involvement in government. That advice was usually followed.