‘Jesus Christ,’ Natalie said, ‘and the CIA wonders why people are suspicious of it.’
‘Well, if the agency wasn’t paranoid before, they will be now,’ Ben said as they walked inside the building. ‘MKULTRA was exposed by Congress through investigations by the Church Committee and the presidential Rockefeller Commission.’
‘This gets better by the minute,’ Natalie said. ‘So you think that maybe they’re doing the surveillance now because they fear we’re onto something?’
‘I doubt that,’ Ben said. ‘MK-ULTRA was shut down somewhere in the late 1970s by the director of the agency himself.’
‘Where’s the evidence from the program?’ Natalie asked. ‘I didn’t see any other references to it in the archives.’
‘That’s because the same director had all of the files burned in 1973 to prevent the Congressional and presidential committees from learning too much about what went on. There were a few Freedom of Information Act requests that uncovered caches of documents, but despite a Senate investigation nothing much came to light.’
Natalie led the way to their office. Guy Rikard was nowhere to be seen but Larry Levinson spotted them immediately and hurried over.
‘Guy’s in a meeting,’ he informed them, ‘but he won’t be gone for long. Did you manage to find out anything useful?’
Larry joined them as they huddled down at her desk and sifted through what they’d discovered.
‘So Joanna Defoe’s father is a former subject of this MKULTRA program?’ Larry asked after they had filled him in.
‘He testified before the Senate in 1973,’ Ben confirmed. ‘After the incriminating evidence was ordered burned by the DCIA, all the investigating parties had left to go on was the sworn testimony of the victims of the MK-ULTRA program. It was enough to build a picture of the scope of the operation but not enough to bring charges against anyone involved, which was almost certainly the motivation behind the destruction of the files.’
Ben slid one of the papers that they had printed out at the archive to Natalie.
‘Harrison Defoe testified in 1973 and gave a detailed account of how, in 1967, he had been a serving officer in the United States Army, working as a translator in Singapore.’
‘He wasn’t a military man,’ Natalie noted, reading the file. ‘He was a languages expert.’
‘And spoke fluent Cantonese as well as Vietnamese,’ Ben said. ‘He was part of an electronic intelligence outfit tasked with monitoring Viet Cong communications with sympathetic communist parties in the Malay Peninsula. They worked on tracking funding and weapons smuggling that came up into Vietnam from the south, instead of the more normal route down from the communist north and Russia.’
‘What was Singapore’s role in all of this?’ Natalie asked.
Larry Levinson replied immediately. Natalie knew him to have an encyclopaedic understanding of world affairs, but even she was surprised at the depth of his knowledge.
‘Singapore’s Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew, was a staunch anti-communist,’ he explained. ‘In an economic sense the Vietnam War benefited Singapore. It had just gained its independence from Britain and was able to build immense infrastructure to act as a staging post for the war effort in Vietnam. When the US military moved into South Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia and the Philippines were facing armed communist insurgents and a communist underground was still festering in Singapore. Indonesia was in the throes of a failed communist coup and was waging konfrontasi against Singapore, an underground conflict. America’s presence gave Prime Minister Yew the reason and opportunity to rebuild his country’s economy on a war footing and create the nation that it has since become. Harrison Defoe’s presence there would have been a tiny but pivotal role in the unfolding drama of the conflict.’
‘Why would they hit somebody in such a vital role?’ Natalie wondered out loud.
‘Probably because of his language expertise and his service location,’ Larry answered. ‘Harrison could talk to local people and so get information from the ground, which is the best way to find things out. But the people he was tasked with watching were largely well-known civilian figures who were discreetly supporting the communists. Popular with people in the region, if the American military had arrested them or the CIA had arranged for accidents to occur, then somebody, somewhere, would probably know about it and expose them, losing the United States respect and support in the region.’
Natalie realized what Larry was saying.
‘So they start using Harrison Defoe as some sort of programmable assassin or something?’
Ben laughed.
‘Probably not quite like that,’ he said. ‘Harrison testified that he was asked by the CIA if he would like to use newly developed hypnosis techniques to expand his knowledge of Malaysian dialects. He agreed, of course, as language was his passion. Over the next three months he underwent numerous, extensive hypnotherapy sessions. His testimony says that he did indeed learn a great deal about various dialects but that also he began to develop an inexplicably strong sense of outrage toward communist businessmen in Singapore, especially those whom he knew had links to the Viet Cong.’
Natalie smiled bitterly.
‘The Viet Cong were effectively winning the war by the late sixties,’ she said. ‘We were relying on carpet bombing and Agent Orange, and our boys in the jungles were in a living hell of combat. Harrison was a patriot and a pacifist, which could explain some of his mounting anger.’
‘He must have hated the sight of so many body-bags coming back from Da Nang and Saigon,’ Ben agreed. ‘Couple that with some deeply induced hypnotic suggestions about how evil his friends in Singapore were and you’ve got a time-bomb waiting to explode.’
‘Nineteen sixty-eight,’ Natalie read from the sheet, ‘and Harrison Defoe is arrested after the murder of four Malaysian businessmen outside a downtown restaurant. Tried and convicted, he served the next three years in a Singapore jail. Christ, they burned him.’
‘Left him to rot,’ Larry noted. ‘His own country abandoned him despite his loyalty and patriotism. Essentially, the CIA programmed him to murder enemies of the state and then melted away when he was arrested and tried.’
Natalie shook her head, a shiver running down her spine as she realized with sudden clarity that in the world of international politics and espionage the value of the individual was always outweighed by the importance of winning a war. No matter how patriotic the subject, no matter how hard-working, they would be sacrificed in an instant for political or military gain. The sugar-coated ideal of American cinema, of no man left behind or of presidents risking their careers and lives to protect individual citizens, was a fallacy as fanciful as it was ridiculous.
‘He survived his incarceration,’ she said, gesturing to further pages of files.
‘Was released in 1971 and repatriated to America,’ Ben nodded. ‘Looks like the government had an attack of guilt over his suffering, or more likely it feared that he would expose what had happened. Harrison receives a government pension and a Purple Heart, and is offered a position at
Harvard teaching languages to students.’
Natalie picked up the trail.
‘He takes the offer, settles in, marries. His wife dies in childbirth, delivering Joanna.’
‘Leaving Harrison to raise his daughter on his own,’ Ben said. ‘Looks like the trials of life got him down. It says here that Harrison became somewhat embittered by the hardship and tragedy that he’d endured, and spent much of his time wailing to anybody who would listen about how corrupt the government was.’
‘Something that his daughter would not have failed to notice,’ Natalie guessed.
‘Harrison became involved in all manner of anti-capitalist ventures,’ Ben said, ‘and made quite a name for himself talking about MK-ULTRA and other alleged government-sponsored programs by the CIA that affected ordinary US citizens. He was preparing a court case against the government when he died unexpectedly at his home.’
‘The
heart attack,’ Natalie said.
‘There were no suspicious circumstances, although the coroner noted that his heart was perfectly healthy and strong and that cardiac arrest was a highly unfortunate way for someone in his physical condition to have died.’
‘Young, too,’ Natalie noted, ‘forty-eight years old.’
‘People do die of cardiac arrest sometimes,’ Larry pointed out, ‘often for no apparent reason. If the coroner didn’t find anything it’s likely a dead end, a coincidence.’
‘I don’t like coincidences,’ Natalie replied, ‘especially when politics and the military are involved.’
She looked at the pages for a moment and then had an idea.
‘Is there anybody still alive who was involved in MKULTRA?’ she asked.
Ben chuckled bitterly.
‘About a hundred thousand people, if you count all the conspiracy theorists and lunatics claiming to have been involved in government tests, alien abductions and God knows what else. It would take years to sift through them and locate the genuine players, if they even know who they actually are. The available files are so vague that they don’t reveal if many of the subjects of the experiments actually knew they were being experimented upon.’
‘There must be some,’ Natalie said. ‘If the program was shut down then they can’t have simply killed off everybody who was involved. The people who testified in 1973, what about them?’
‘The ones who knew about MK-ULTRA at the time would almost certainly be genuine subjects because they were invited to testify. That wouldn’t have happened if there was any doubt about their involvement among the investigating committees.’ Ben looked at her. ‘Why would you want to talk to anybody from back then?’
‘Because I’m beginning to suspect that this may have something to do with Joanna Defoe,’ she said.
Ben frowned.
‘Joanna was raised in an orphanage after her father died,’ he said. ‘It’s all on paper here. When she turned eighteen she was given the money her father left her, which she used to pay for college. Looks like she inherited some of her father’s distrust of government and authority because she spent pretty much her entire career as a journalist exposing government corruption around the world.’
‘And here,’ Natalie said, ‘when she hunted down connections between MACE and our government.’
‘So?’ Larry asked her. ‘There are plenty of journalists doing the same thing on any given day. No reason for the CIA to single her out for special attention.’
‘Do we know which orphanage she was sent to?’ Natalie asked.
‘Yeah,’ Ben said, and shuffled through some papers until he found what he was looking for. ‘Benedictine School for Girls,’ he said. ‘Virginia. Spent ten years there in the care of the state system before getting her father’s payout and heading for college.’
Natalie scanned the details of the orphanage and made a decision.
‘I’m going to check this place out,’ she said. ‘It’s another long shot but they may have records that reveal new information that the CIA might not have thought to erase.’
‘Long shot doesn’t begin to describe that,’ Ben said. ‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No, you’ve done enough for one day,’ she replied. ‘How about you just see if you can uncover any names for me connected to Harrison Defoe who are still alive, who might know about what really happened to him. There may be somebody he confided in who can tell us more about what happened.’
Ben threw her a mock salute as he span in his chair and began typing at his keyboard.
‘Going somewhere without me?’
Guy Rikard’s rotund face appeared before Natalie’s, a limp smile hanging from his face.
‘Going anywhere that you’re not,’ Natalie replied as she slipped past him.
Rikard wrapped his thick fingers around one of her arms firmly enough to stop her in her tracks.
‘You’re not holding out on me over here, are you?’ he asked. ‘Looks like you’re onto something juicy about the Church Committee.’
Natalie wriggled loose from his grip.
‘Guy, if I thought for a single moment that I could share anything with you, trust me, I would. But I don’t.’
Guy’s features hardened. ‘That’s not team-play, Nat,’ he snapped.
‘It’s Natalie to you,’ she shot back.
‘Well, Natalie, this is a team and right now you’re not playing along. Our job is to collate information from the Congressional investigation and present it to the committee, not run around Washington DC like you’re in a friggin’ Dan Brown novel!’
‘I need to follow this lead,’ Natalie said. ‘It could be important to the committee’s investigation.’
‘It’s a good lead,’ Larry Levinson intervened as he moved to stand alongside Natalie. ‘It could get us somewhere, and if the Investigator General accepts what Natalie’s found as tangible evidence of malpractice within the CIA, this office will be at the forefront of it. You sure you want to miss out on what could be the next Watergate, Guy?’
Natalie looked at Larry in wonderment, unable to conceal the smile on her features.
Rikard looked down at her for a long beat, as though deciding whether she would even have a job at the end of the day, and then he glanced at Ben Consiglio.
‘Ben, you do it.’ Rikard looked at Natalie and Larry. ‘You two, on the other hand, will stay in this office until I say otherwise, is that understood?’
Hot acid flushed through Natalie’s veins as she glared at Rikard but there was little she could do. Ben stepped up alongside her and Larry as Rikard stalked away.
‘Good work, Larry,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can. Maybe we can pick up the threads of this outside of office hours without Rikard poking his nose in.’
‘Larry!’ Rikard snapped. ‘Get over here! I need help with these translations!’
‘I need to pop out of the office for a moment, boss,’ Larry replied meekly.
‘You can pop out when I damned well tell you!’ Rikard thundered back at him.
‘But it’s important,’ Larry pleaded.
‘So is national security! Get over here.’
Larry sighed. Natalie mastered her fury as she turned to them.
‘Thanks, guys. I owe you both, really.’
Ben smiled as he grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder.
‘You owe me nothing,’ he said, ‘except maybe a drink later.’
He swept from the office with a flash of a smile before she could respond. Larry raised an eyebrow at her and grinned as he walked toward Rikard’s desk, leaving her with a warm tingling sensation in the pit of her belly. She didn’t even realize that her anger had melted completely.
40
NEZ PERCE NATIONAL FOREST, IDAHO
‘He’s gone.’
Ethan stood alongside Lopez and watched as Kurt Agry pulled the stretcher’s plastic cover over Simmons’s face, his skin now pale and his eyes ringed by blotchy purple sclera. The rain pattered down on the plastic sheet and ran in rivulets into the mud as they stood in a forlorn circle around the body.
They had walked only for an hour before Corporal Jenkins had noticed that Simmons had stopped breathing, his lips turning a dull blue.
Kurt stood up and stared vacantly at the stretcher for a few moments. Ethan watched the soldier for a moment before speaking.
‘We’d have never got him back in time, even if the valley weren’t blocked,’ he said. ‘He wasn’t going to survive this mission once we lost our radios.’
Kurt nodded, ignoring the streams of chill rainwater streaming from his shaven head to run down his face. He finally ran a hand over his head, the motion sounding like sandpaper rubbing against drywall, and turned to the group.
‘We push on,’ he said. ‘The way home is blocked, but without the stretcher we can take the high ground and push over the valley, then head north.’
Ethan glanced up at the sky, heavily laden with clo
uds, the forests forever entombed in their foggy grip.
‘Why not just head north right now?’ he asked. ‘Pick up Highway 14 and get back to Grangeville?’
The climb back up into the valley, weighed down by the stretcher, had taken all of the morning and most of the early afternoon. Everybody was exhausted, especially Dana and Proctor.
‘Because we’re not done yet,’ Kurt growled back. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll let Simmons, Willis or Lieutenant Watson’s lives be lost in vain. We finish what we came here to do, then we head home. We can send a recovery team for the stretcher when we’re done.’
Duran Wilkes, his beard glistening with beads of water, gestured back down the valley.
‘What makes you think that thing is going to let us head back down anywhere? It blocked our route, Kurt. It did that for a reason.’
‘It’s an animal!’ Kurt yelled as he whirled on his heel and marched up to the old man, getting right in his face. ‘It’s a creature, a big, hairy son of a bitch but nothing more. It’s not thinking, it’s not planning and it’s sure as hell not chasing a vendetta against us!’
Duran Wilkes stood for several long seconds, not averting his eyes from the soldier’s raging gaze.
‘Then why are we running away from it, back up the valley?’
Kurt stood immobile in front of the old man, and Ethan sensed his chance.
‘It’s time to come clean, Kurt,’ he said. ‘You’ve lost three of your men and we’re stuck up here being chased by God knows what. If you’ve got some other reason for being here then now would be a great time to share it because we might not survive this if we don’t work together.’
Kurt turned away from Duran and looked at Ethan.
‘Our task is to protect your team from harm and—’
‘Bullshit!’ Lopez snapped. ‘Do you really think we’re all just goddamned idiots, following you and your team up and down this mountain like sheep? Right now I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.’
Kurt watched her for a long moment and then glanced across at Dana and Proctor.
The Chimera Secret Page 24