The Lesser Evil

by Jim Magwood

  “Nothing special, I’m afraid. He and I met a couple of years ago and did some research together. We’ve kept in touch since then as friends.”

  Both men had questions going through their minds. Baxter was wondering how an Israeli university professor would have met, and researched together with, an American CIA agent, and what they would have researched. And, why would Kincaide have given him Asch’s name if there wasn’t something more than what had been said so far?

  Jacob, for his part, was wondering the same thing: Why would Kincaide have given his name to this reporter? He and Ron had actually known each other for several years and had worked on some serious projects together. The last one was about two years before and involved helping to uncover and stop an international group of people that had plans for taking over the power structure of the world. There were very few people in the world who knew Jacob’s background as a long term deep-cover Mossad agent, and that’s why he had been so successful, both as a field agent in previous years and now as a recruiter and trainer of agents and an advisor to the Mossad leadership. While he wasn’t actually working on the vigilante problem for anyone, he wondered if Baxter might be able to give him some information he could then pass on to someone else like Kincaide?

  “Mr. Baxter, I do have some contacts who might have some amount of information they could share with you, but I don’t know that for sure. I could, perhaps, do some calling around and see what I might find. But, let me ask you another question, if I may?”

  “Of course.”

  “What are you trying to find out about this group, and why? I would think you have perhaps more information than anyone else as it is. If these people are, or could be, dangerous, and they do apparently have a very long reach when they want it, are you sure you should be doing this kind of research? You could possibly be putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  Now it was Henry’s turn to think for a moment and to try to answer Jacob’s question—even to himself. Ultimately, all he could respond with was, “Professor, I don’t really know why I’m doing this. It’s true, I have received a huge amount of information from them, but nothing about them. When I first started writing the stories, I was just thinking about the stories themselves. And, I felt that these people were possibly doing the right thing—trying to put a stop to some of the evil in the world. Now, maybe I’m just not so sure. Some of their events have gotten awfully big and I wonder what might be coming if they continue. However, the confusion is that if they don’t take care of some of these things, who is going to? None of our authorities or governments seem to be able to get hold of these criminal influences, so who else will do it?

  “Professor, when I was first contacted by them—just out of the blue—I made it very clear that I wasn’t to be an actual part of the events, that I’d just do the reporting with what they gave me. They even kind of laughed and said it wouldn’t matter if I tried to find them because they were too well hidden, anyway. I’ve turned most of the materials I’ve received over to the authorities when they’ve requested them, and nothing has happened to me to date. Now, maybe I’m just beginning to get second thoughts about what they’re doing and where it’s all going to end up. We’re seeing a lot of question-able—no, actually illegal—things beginning to be done by regular citizens that might be getting out of hand. Maybe they’re just doing what should have been done all along to try to protect themselves, but maybe the copying isn’t right.

  Maybe it’s just that I’d like to find out more about both the group and the so-called victims to see if I can make sense of what I’m seeing and feeling.”

  “Mr. Baxter, I do have to go to a meeting in a little while, so I’ll have to interrupt our discussion at this time. However, I will make some calls and see if perhaps I can find some direction for you. I certainly cannot promise anything, but maybe there will be something. How can I reach you?”

  Henry gave Jacob his cell phone number in addition to the office number he already had and thanked him in advance for anything he could find out and share. Jacob asked him if he would send him copies of his stories direct, so they traded e-mail addresses, also. When the two men hung up, they both sat back and thought almost the same thing: I wonder where this is going? Jacob immediately put in calls to some people at very secure phones around the world: Ron Kincaide in Washington, D.C.; Roger Evans in Vancouver, Canada; and to Khalid Juma, probably the deepest undercover agent in the world.

  CHAPTER 24

  Three men crawled through the grass, under the trees, approaching the rock fence line slowly and quietly. As they reached the fence, they carefully lifted themselves up until they could see over the slight rise in front of them and down to the large estate house in the meadow below. There was a party going on, with likely more than fifty people moving about.

  Some were swimming in the Olympic size pool; others were dancing around the pool and in the shade of the patio cover; others sat talking at various tables around the yard. The men could see over the house to the dozens of beautiful cars in the front yard.

  The three men wore camouflage clothing and military style cartridge belts and packs, and had heavy layers of face paint. They each carried heavy caliber hunting rifles and had scored all the ammunition in the weapons to make them burst into pieces on impact. They were within one hundred-fifty yards of the home and knew they wouldn’t need scopes for what they were here to do.

  Sir Howard Jefferies threw these parties several times a year, and you knew you had arrived in the rarified air if you received an invitation. Sir Howard was a Member of Parliament and was recognized as one of the leaders in the government, and had been for more than forty years. Unfortunately, he was also recognized, or at least suspected by many, as having been in league with the British underworld for most of those years. His power in the halls of government kept him safe from anything but crimes against the Crown , though there were several in various branches of the law enforcement agencies that dearly wished they could take the old boy down.

  His estate on the south coast of England, outside the village of Hamble-in-Rice on the southern edge of Southampton, was acknowledged as one of the largest and most beautiful in the area, and was guarded by his own private security force.

  You might be invited to one of Sir Howard’s parties, but everyone knew you certainly didn’t try to crash one. And that’s why Whitey, Charles and Robb were being extremely careful in approaching the estate. They were inside the guarded perimeter now, and knew they were indeed in dangerous terri-tory. Intruders on the estate had been caught before, and stories of their punishments were told in the pubs for years after.

  Whitey was looking through his field glasses at the party and said in a whisper, “I see the old boy clear as can be. He’s over there under the patio cover. Looking as cool as can be, aren’t yuh? Just wait a moment, Sir Howard, and see how cool it’ll be for yuh. Can the two of yuh see into the yard now?”

  “Sure, Whitey,” replied Robb. “There must be fifty or sixty of them, huh?”

  Charles was the young one of the group and nervously answered with a little cough and a shrug. He still didn’t know why he had agreed to accompany the other two on this mission, and wished he was any place else. He knew a pint at the Ram’s Horn would certainly be preferable to lying in the wet grass, thinking about what was coming.

  Whitey turned his head and looked at Charles for a moment, then said, “Are yuh with us, lad? A little late now to turn tail, right?”

  With a snarl sounding braver than he felt, Charles said,

  “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m with yuh. But, are yuh sure this is the right thing to do?”

  “Yuh know no one else has been able to take the old boy down, huh? So, we’ll do it for ‘em. Like those other guys on the news are doing it, huh? If they can, so can we. And old Jefferies needs to come down, for sure, huh? So, are yuh going to be okay?”

  “I’m okay. Let’s just do it and get gone.”

  “Okay. On three.”


  The men lined up their weapons on the edge of the fence and aimed down to the party. When Whitey counted down, they suddenly started pulling their triggers as fast as they could, spraying wildly down into the crowd of people. As they emptied their first clips, they quickly inserted new ones and sprayed the crowd again. When they finished their ammunition, the three men leaped to their feet and ran as fast as they could back through the trees to where they had left their car, dove in and raced off in the direction of the city. Whitey and Robb were whooping and giggling with nervous excitement and were shouting about how many of the guests they imagined they had hit and that old Sir Howard had surely gone down for good. They had only gone a couple of miles before Charles threw his head out the window and was violently sick.

  The others laughed at him and continued their bravura.

  Back at the estate, Sir Howard Jefferies looked at the guests lying about the area, and walked back into his house.

  Not a shot had come close to him. His guards were already trying to run down the assailants, and Sir Howard knew they would be found within a short time. Then, they would pay the price. More than twenty of the guests had received serious wounds, several were fatalities, and there would be a lot of cleaning for the staff to put the place back in order. Luckily, he thought, none of my own people were injured, just the dolts who always showed for the parties. His mind turned, then, to the enjoyment he expected when the assailants were brought to him. Then, we’ll really have a party.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Hello, Ron. This is Jacob Asch. Are you free to talk?”

  Ron chuckled. “Hello, Jacob. I wondered when you would call. Got a call from Mr. Baxter, did you?”

  “Do all you spies act so covertly?”

  “Well, that’s my name isn’t it—Ron, the Covert?”

  “I might have been a little more civil if I had been warned he would be calling.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. I know you, remember? You would still have shined him on and called me.”

  It was Jacob’s turn to chuckle. “But, I might have smiled while I shined him on, as you say. However, here we are. How have you been, my friend?”

  “Jacob, I’ve been doing well. The sun is still shining here, and there are apparently no more world takeovers in sight—at least at the moment. And how are you? Tel Aviv is likely quite lovely right now.”

  “Yes, it is. So, what is going on with our Mr. Baxter? He wanted some information on this vigilante group, or their so-called victims, and I thought I should check to see what you know or what you might have told him. I haven’t gotten involved with this, so don’t know much myself. Do you feel Baxter is on the level with what he is doing?”

  “Yes, I think he’s straight, Jacob. We’ve checked on the things he’s done, and so has the FBI, and we don’t find anything he’s done wrong. Just an ambitious reporter. Why he was chosen by this group to be their reporter, we don’t know, but so far it all looks above board. I didn’t tell him anything; just gave him a list of names. You were the only one I thought might actually be able to help him, but I wanted to hear back from the others as to what he was saying or asking. So far, nothing wrong. What did you tell him?”

  “Just that I didn’t know anything, but that I would contact some friends and see what I could find. Like I said, I really haven’t gotten involved in this. Are you working on it?”

  “Yes, but not intensely yet. We have a lot of people looking in a lot of places, but nothing to go on yet. I can tell you, though, that no one else has any information that helps, either. We’ve tried to trace some phone calls and e-mails, but they all die out. The group is apparently pretty sophisticated, both in what they can do and what they can hide. We’ve looked at a lot of people around the world that could possibly have the abilities these people would need, but we haven’t been able to tie any of them together. They appear to have some huge assets available to pull some of these things off.

  They’re apparently a lot bigger and better than anyone has thought before now. You haven’t heard anything coming through your people yet?”

  “No. I put in another couple of calls yesterday to some people in my network, but haven’t heard back from them yet.

  You’re saying NSA was not able to find anything on them?”

  “No, nobody that I’ve heard from so far. I’m wondering just now, Jacob, if you might do a little study on this—maybe unofficially? We could likely all use a little help here. Maybe you could contact someone like ‘John?’” It was the only name he knew Khalid Juma by.

  “Yes, he is one I can call and ask. If you’ve tried all the aboveground networks, maybe someone from the underground might have heard something. ‘John’ is as deep as anyone can get. I’ll touch base with him and let you know if he has anything.”

  “Thanks, Jacob. As far as this Baxter goes, I think you can trust him as far as anyone outside our circle, but you do as you wish, of course.”

  “Thank you, Ron. I’ll probe where I can and let you know what comes up, if anything. This group might be getting out of control, and that could lead to things we don’t want to consider. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  “Same here, Jacob. Will you be going to the lodge any time soon?”

  “Yes, probably next week for a month or so. Can you stop in?”

  “I’m not sure, but be sure you save some of Marie’s cobbler for me. I’m still trying to find a way to steal her from you.”

  “I’ll pass on your compliments, my friend. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, Jacob.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The e-mail was simple, with no words that might raise questions with watchers:

  “Roger, I will be at the lodge by the end of next week for a few weeks. Would you be able to visit? Looking for some worldwide people you have surely heard about. Are you involved at all? Jacob.”

  The reply was equally simple:

  “Good to hear from you. Yes, I will come by probably week after next. Not looking for anything at this time but would be available. Talk with you then, unless very important.

  Roger.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  When Jacob got the call back from Khalid Juma, he learned that Khalid had heard a few rumors about the group, but didn’t know anything specific. He did say that he would inquire on a deeper basis right away and get back to Jacob with anything he found. Khalid traveled in some very dark corners of the world and knew people that were far off the radar of the normal investigative agencies—cousins of brothers of sisters working as maids at such-and-such agency, and beggars located at this and that bazaar that no one ever noticed. Gossip overheard from stops at water coolers and in late night lounges was his stock in trade, and was usually as accurate, or more so, than what was sent out from government offices.

  CHAPTER 26

  Hector watched as Señor Escobedo’s face turned red and his fingers drummed on the desk. The beverage glass Escobedo was holding suddenly shattered into pieces from the squeezing hand. He could see the explosion building and wished with all his might to be anywhere else. For now, though, all he could do was stand in front of the desk and wait.

  In almost a whisper, Escobedo said, “Are you actually telling me that none of the planes sent out two days ago arrived? Fourteen planes and none arrived? You have checked all the refueling depots? The planes have not been seen?”

  “Yes, Señor, I have checked several times. I have called all the planes directly and they do not respond. They have just…vanished.”

  “No, they have not,” Escobedo screamed suddenly. “They are out there and you are to find them. Now! My planes do not simply vanish.” Then his voice dropped to a whisper again, and he said, “What about today’s shipments? What have you heard?”

  Hector’s heart dropped and he almost couldn’t speak through his dry throat. “Señor, they have not begun to arrive yet, either. The first planes from early this morning have not reported in and most of the receivers have moved on to the secondary landing areas.”
He could see Escobedo’s face getting darker. “The others have not made their first refueling stops yet, and they should have by now. The refueling stops are set well within the range of any of the planes, so there is no reason for any plane to not get to their stop, except perhaps engine failure.”

  This time, Escobedo’s voice immediately rose to a scream. “There is always a reason, you idiot. You are to find those planes now! I will not hear of anything else.”

  “But, Señor,” Hector’s voice was pleading, “There is nothing else I am able to do. I have called and called…”

  “You tell me you can do nothing?” Escobedo again screamed. “Nothing? Yes, there is, you fool. You can get out there and find those planes. Right now.”

  “But, Señor…” Hector again began.