His newest best friend, "Doctor Mark Sugarmann," disappeared after the shootout. Reassigned, no doubt, to another location by the CIA. The shootout. That was a doozy. Jason and his crew, Lawan, as well as Remi's SEAL team and the helicopter crews, found themselves signing a stack of non-disclosure agreements from both the U.S. and Thai governments.
Sterling MacIntosh remained a peculiar and elusive man. As soon as the incident ended, Sterling's attitude seemed to change, his sense of urgency was gone. "Oh, this wouldn't affect the market," Sterling had said, referring to Maison's plan. "There will be a blip on the charts initially, but the amount of gold in the world doesn't change—only its form. If he thought he would crash the market, he was greatly misinformed." The IMF recovered the fake gold Sterling found in the vault. It was not all fake, of course. According to Jason's father, the IMF smelted the bars down, separated the gold and tungsten in liquid form, and after the insurance company paid the IMF over two hundred percent of the gold's value for the theft, the IMF walked away with another two percent in gold bullion. Jason's father told him Sterling MacIntosh returned to New York, but the man never stayed anywhere long.
And Maison's girlfriend? After she helped them escape Maison's compound, they never saw or heard from her again. She wasn't in the warehouse during the showdown with the Chechen. Perhaps Maison killed her after the escape. The thought tugged at Jason, knowing she might have given her life for Lawan, Preeda, and himself.
The Chechen and the BIPP—their actions were revealed in the investigation aftermath. The lingering question, at least in Jason's mind, was Ben.
"Drive faster," Ben said, attempting to break the awkward silence.
"Dude, we've got plenty of time."
"It's an international flight. I need to get there at least two hours early."
"You don't have any luggage."
"I've got to get through security."
"You're going to be fine," Jason reassured him as he switched lanes to take the exit to the airport.
"Sorry you missed out on your good-deal trip to Australia," Ben said.
Jason shrugged his shoulders. "Not a big deal. I've been to Darwin before. It's not as fun as other portions of the country." Jason was supposed to fly a plane to Australia to sit alert for the presidential support as Air Force One left the Pacific Theater. The president left Thailand weeks ago but stopped in Bali on the way home. A small contingent of MH-53’s and an MC-130P had been pre-positioned for presidential support. Jason had been removed from the plan following the events in Bangkok. His life had changed substantially.
"So, when do you start training in the gunship?" Ben said.
"In two months," Jason said. "U-model training has been a little behind since the Iraq invasion. It's starting to catch up, I hear."
"You'll probably be the only co-pilot in training with a single mission Air Medal."
"No, those guys have seen plenty of action."
Jason glanced at Ben and said nothing else. He wasn't sure if it was a dig at him because, despite being an aircraft commander on the MC-130P, he had to start all over as a co-pilot. It didn't matter. The airframes were similar, but the gunship mission was completely different.
Perhaps it was a dig because the president awarded his crew the Air Medal for their actions against the terrorists. Jason had been told he could not talk about his participation in the warehouse shootout, and the non-disclosure agreement put that in writing. It never happened. There would be no way the Air Force could explain that one.
Jason pulled into the parking lot at Naha International Airport, and the two climbed out of the car. Ben pulled his carry-on out of the trunk and slung his laptop strap over his shoulder. He handed Jason a box, about eighteen by eighteen inches.
"Can you carry this for me? It's heavy."
"Sure." Jason paused as he took it. It was heavy. "Ben, there's something I've wanted to ask you."
"Fire away."
Jason stared straight ahead for a moment, then, with a deep breath turned to Ben. "Why gold?"
"Huh?"
"Why gold? For the debt payoff. Why would Maison tell you to pay in gold?"
Ben paused. "I don't know. After I emptied all my accounts and cash advances, I guess there was no other way to pay off the debt. I had to buy something. He said he wanted gold."
"Which left your wife high and dry financially."
"Ex-wife. Serves her right for screwing around."
"Convenient." Jason was aware the ex-wife's attorney was gunning for most of their assets and half his retirement. Funny how now, there was none of either.
Ben chuckled slightly. "Yeah."
"Why did they think I was you?"
Ben shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I guess you had the receipt at the jewelry shop. Plus, everyone's always said we could be brothers. I'm sure all us Anglos look alike to them."
Jason's eyes studied Ben's face. "Was I sent there on purpose?"
"What? No. I mean, yes, of course. You went to pick up the last payment. Remember? I wanted those goons off my back." Another pause. "Wait. You don't think that . . . No, no. Jason, I had no idea you were coming to Bangkok until a few hours before you arrived. Look, I'm aware of everything you went through for me, and brother, trust me, I appreciate it. Your friendship means the world to me and the sacrifices . . . the shit you went through for me, speaks volumes."
The two men crossed the road in front of the terminal, dodging cars and passengers alike. Jason couldn't shake the thought that there was more to this. He retraced everything that happened, everything he experienced.
"What was your relationship with Maison Andrepont?" He shifted the heavy box from his right arm to his left as they walked through the sliding glass doors.
"Jason, what the fuck? Are you a lawyer now? This stuff is over. I met the guy at his casino and then lost a fortune."
"What about Sterling MacIntosh?"
"Who?"
This was going nowhere. Did he really expect anything less? Ben had his plane ticket and boarding pass and headed straight for the security line. Jason stopped as they approached. "I know you know Maison's girlfriend."
Ben stopped and turned. "Yeah, who doesn't? She's smoking hot. Never knew what she saw in that asshole."
"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to wrap my head around this."
"No, Jason, I'm sorry you got involved. You had no idea when you said you'd help me that you were getting in the middle of a gold heist, forgery, bank theft, terrorists, an attack on the president, missile sales from foreign thugs . . . It's incomprehensible."
"Bank theft?"
"Yeah. Someone robbed Andrepont's bank account during all of this." A slight smile formed on Ben's mouth but went away just as quick. "Crazy, huh?"
"I guess so," Jason replied, his mind searching for . . . something.
They reached the entrance to the security check-in and stopped.
"Well, this is it, old friend," Ben said, extending his hand.
Jason shook his hand, and the two embraced in a man-hug. He tried to hand Ben the heavy box, but he shook it off.
"No, my friend," Ben said, "that box is for you. A small token of my appreciation."
Jason's eyebrows rose. "You didn't have—"
"Don't say another word. I owe you. And I always pay my debts."
They shook hands again, but this time Jason noticed Ben appeared . . . distant. Ben walked away, weaving his way through the maze leading to the X-ray machine. Something still didn't seem quite right. Jason recapped the events once again.
Ben approached the X-ray machine. He turned and waved to Jason. It wasn't a friendly wave—it was a wave that said, "I know you're still watching."
Ben's response about Maison's girlfriend bothered him. Perhaps because he answered the question without answering the question. Jason remembered when they were at the mansion, Helena de Vries discovered Lawan was Maison's prior girlfriend and Preeda was his daughter. That didn't go over well. Perhaps that sent her over the ed
ge to spill Maison's plan about the terrorists. Perhaps because Maison bought missiles for the attack on Air Force One.
Wait.
Something Ben said still tugged at him. Jason squeezed his eyes shut as if it could make him think deeper, faster. He shivered as it came to him. Perspiration pushed through his pores, and beads of sweat rolled down his face. His teeth clenched as the details of the situation unfolded in his mind.
His head jerked up, and he stared at Ben.
The fact that the terrorists had purchased missiles to shoot down the president's jet was classified. It never made the news. Nor was it mentioned in any unclassified briefings on the events in Thailand. Ben was already on his way back to Okinawa when Jason briefed the mission commander on the attack. How could Ben have found out about it? Jason never mentioned it, and Ben didn't know Lawan. That left only one . . .
There was another problem. The fact that Maison's bank account had been robbed was never in the press either. Two hundred and fifty million dollars, stolen. Also, his casino's bank account had been hit the day after the gold heist. Another one hundred million, gone. Investigators determined, as they pieced this story together, Maison's ultimate demise had been the Chechen never got paid and came back to get revenge. Was it him? No. The Chechen wouldn’t have wasted his time bargaining with Maison for Lawan and Preeda. How could Ben know . . .
He watched his friend walk through the X-ray machine. The small light on top of the machine changed from red to green.
The images flooded his brain. Ben never excelled in pilot training. In fact, he washed out. But he excelled in finance and computers. That is what struck him odd about this situation. Ben was too smart to be caught up in something like this.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
Ben stood sixty feet away, the solemn look that covered his face replaced by a smile. A genuine smile, not the phony kind you wear trying to make someone feel better. For the first time in years, the guy seemed happy. Strange. Jason moved toward the glass wall that separated them.
Ben stopped to talk with someone. Dropping his computer bag and releasing his roll-aboard, he stretched out both arms. A woman stood and held his face in her hands as the two engaged in a deep, passionate kiss. This was no chance encounter. The long blond hair, the perfect figure, the expensive clothes . . . Jason recognized her immediately.
Helena De Vries.
Jason looked at the box in his hands, its weight and density taking on new meaning. He set it on the ground and tried to open it, but the tape was too secure. He pulled his pocketknife from his ankle pocket on his flight suit and flicked the blade open. Finding the seam of the box, Jason slid the blade into the tape and slit it in half. Packing popcorn spilled onto the airport floor as Jason's suspicions proved correct.
The top of the box was filled with cash. One-dollar bills bound in groups of fifty. A quick count and he realized he had twenty bundles. Twenty times fifty; a thousand dollars. He looked back at Ben.
Could he . . .? No.
He recalled that when Andrepont's bank account had been robbed, there were a thousand dollars left in the account. What did Ben say when he first saw him in Thailand? Maison Andrepont had told him at the blackjack table, "A thousand dollars is enough money for a man to start his fortune."
Jason removed the single piece of cardboard in the bottom of the box, revealing a four-hundred-gram gold bar with a note wrapped around it. Jason pulled the bar out of the box and struck the knife against the side. Nothing. He beat it on the ground, gaining the attention of several people passing by. He studied the bar. Seems legit. Placing the bar back in the box, he closed the lid and read the note.
Jason, by the time you read this note, you've probably figured everything out. That's okay. I can't express my gratitude enough for the level of friendship you've shown me over the years. More specifically, the past month. Please accept this gift. Don't try to find me. I won't be coming back.
Jason stood and searched for Ben and Helena. The two of them walked away, arms around each other, in the opposite direction of the gate to the United States. He checked the Departure listings overhead. Only one other flight departed before the San Francisco flight.
Hong Kong. They could go anywhere from there.
Jason watched until the couple was out of sight. Ben never looked back. That was his style. He never did look back. Always moving forward.
Acknowledgments
I hope you enjoyed Jason Conrad’s first adventure in the operational world. Throughout this series, I’ve tried to weave his world into real-world events to ground the reader and give you a sense of familiarity. I am proud to say I was member of the 17th Special Operation Squadron from 1993-1995. That experience led to the writing of this novel.
I owe a great deal of thanks to my good friends and fellow authors, James R. Hannibal and Jeff Wilson, both of who mentored me on this journey called story-telling. Thank you for believing in me.
There are a lot of people who’ve provided information, insight, and help in getting this book to print. The most significant is the real-life Doctor Mark Sugarmann, who asked to remain nameless, your assistance in all things Thailand were invaluable.
My primary sounding board Scott Tyler, as always, thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you.
My Beta-Reader team, J.D. Rudman, Terry Sears, Derek Jeter, Rob Rolfsen, Netta Pickering, Richard Overton, Karl Hughey, Rickey Heroman, Debbie Heroman, and Len Worland, you folks are the best.
Thank you Doctor Vince Tullos, for your medical expertise.
And special thanks to Lewis Jordan, Stephan Edwards, Dennis Barnett, Patrick M. Griffin, and Joel Martin for their insight on MC-130P operations.
While all of these people gave me incredible inputs, any mistakes in this book are mine.
And thanks once again to my wife Kim, who continues to let me play in this world.
And finally thank you, the reader, for making this possible. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on the retail platform where you purchased it. Thank you for spending your valuable time with Jason Conrad and his friends.
About the Author
Michael Byars Lewis, is an Amazon #1 International Bestselling Author, and his books have also been on the Bestseller lists on Barnes and Noble Nook and Kobo platforms. The author of the award-winning Jason Conrad Thriller series has been on numerous author panels at writer’s conferences such as Thrillerfest, The Louisiana Book Festival, and Killer Nashville.
Michael is a former AC-130U Spooky Gunship Evaluator Pilot with 18 years in Air Force Special Operations Command. A 25-year Air Force pilot, he has flown special operations combat missions in Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He served as an Expeditionary Squadron Commander for AC-130U combat operations in Iraq and spent his final assignment on active duty instructing and mentoring the next generation of gunship pilots at the Air Force Special Operations Air Warfare Center’s schoolhouse for flight instruction, the 19th Special Operations Squadron. Michael is currently a pilot for a major U.S. airline.
Active in his community, Michael has mentored college students on leadership development and team-building and is a facilitator for an international leadership training program. He has teamed with the Air Commando Foundation, which supports Air Commando’s and their families’ unmet needs during critical times.
While his adventures have led to travels all around the world, Michael lives in Florida with his wife Kim.
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Also by Michael Byars Lewis
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The Right to Know
Veil of Deception
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