Necessary Retribution (5 page)

“We have our first mission. He wants you to call him on the secure line ASAP.”

Robin took a deep breath. “Great! I don't even have time to practice how to tell him I'm going to be front page news in a small town paper.” He walked down the stairs and swiped a magnetic code card over a square tile that dropped down revealing an ocular scanner. Robin put his eye up to the scanner allowing red lines to flash over his retina. An elevator door opened in the wall. If a person didn't know it was there, they would walk right by it.

The elevator door opened on a room crammed with electronics. There were five television monitors, four computers and a dizzying array of two way radio sets and telephones. Jamie Slater and Emmett Franks were manning the center.

“Hey, Boss. Grassley says he really needs to talk to you.”

“Okay, Jamie, connect me.” Robin sat down at a white telephone as Jamie pushed some buttons and dialed a number. He nodded and Robin picked up the phone.

“I hope that's you, Rob.” Grassley's voice had a tinge of irritation.

“It's me.”

“Where have you been?”

“Well, to get right to the point, I stopped an armed robbery.” A long pause hung on the other end.

“Did you have a choice?”

“If I did, I wouldn't have taken action.”

“Okay, we'll have to do damage control. Just tell me it didn't happen in Seattle.”

“No. It happened at the ferry dock on the island. The Island County Sheriff's Office is doing the investigation. The detective doing the case is pretty cool. A young trooper, though, was a little too impressed with my moves.”

“Okay, you can give me the details later and I'll take care of it. In the meantime, we have a mission.”

“It's about time. Where are we going?”

“Bangkok, Thailand. There is a fugitive there named Anton Ivanov we need to bring in.”

“What's the catch?”

“He is wanted for trafficking children for sex. The U.S., Britain and France all have warrants out for his arrest. He was arrested by the Thai government, but they're stalling on the extradition. The guy is a Russian citizen with close ties high up in the Soviet government. We got word that he's not actually in jail, but is being held, and I use that term loosely, in the penthouse of the Landmark Hotel. We're afraid the Russians are going to smuggle him out. Your job is to get him out first.”

“I take it that means today or sooner.”

“You are very astute.”

“What do you mean by ‘high up in the Soviet government’?”

“KGB.”

“Wonderful! Couldn't make the first one easy, could you?”

“We don't need you guys for easy missions.”

“I guess. I don't have time to figure the budget…deposit five million.”

“That's pretty high!”

“Do you want him alive? I can do it a lot cheaper if you'll take him dead, which I have no problem doing to an asshole like this.”

“You win. Your five million is deposited…now.”

“Alive it is! We'll be airborne by 2300.”

Saddam Hussein slouched back in his enormous chair at the head of a long conference table surrounded by his ministers and generals. Saddam's left arm stretched out on the table, his right hand rested on the butt of his pistol. Through narrowed eyes, he listened to the Deputy Prime Minister, Izzat Ibrahim report the events at the Saudi sponsored conference with Kuwait in Jeddah.

“I presented our four demands to Crown Prince Sa'ad Al-Abdallah. The first, Kuwait must abide by OPEC quotas; second, Kuwait must
cede the southern part of the border including the Rumaila oilfield; third, Kuwait must write-off the war debt from the Iraq/Iran war; and fourth, Kuwait must compensate Iraq for oil market losses as a result of the oil price decline due to Kuwait's over production. The prince demanded that writing off the debt must be in return for border demarcation that settled the dispute forever. We, of course said this was negotiable. We negotiated for less than two days and ended with disagreement remaining on all issues.”

Saddam surveyed each man around the table. He used this tactic of intimidation with great success his entire reign as President of Iraq. After staring into the eyes of the last man, Saddam leaned forward with a smile.

“I have decided that our great country has done enough negotiation through the accepted diplomatic channels with the government and people of Kuwait. Kuwait is not a legitimate country. Its territory belongs to Iraq and has since the Ottoman Empire. Its oil should not be enriching the people of Kuwait. It should be enriching the good people of Iraq. It is time for us to take back what is rightfully ours.”

The usual and expected cheer rose from the table. Assistant Defense Minister Assad Tareq raised his hand.

“Yes, Assad.” Saddam's voice had the tone of a threat.

“Excuse me Excellency, I know you have considered the response from the Americans and NATO, could you tell us your conclusions, sir.”

Saddam waved his hand dismissively. “The Americans and NATO are nothing but weak whores. They will never intervene. They have no balls! We already have one hundred thousand men at the border and they do nothing!”

Another forced enthusiastic cheer rose from the group.

“If they do attempt to interfere, Barzan will have some surprises for them.” Saddam nodded to Barzan. Al Tikriti smiled.

F
IVE

TEN HOURS OF FURIOUS ACTIVITY
had Fatboy, the Guardians’ Boeing 747-400, airborne. The CIA and the Boeing wizards performed their magic and the plane had some features that would make 007’s “Q” envious. Fatboy also carried four Range Rovers and two RIBs, Rigid Inflatable Boats.

After a refueling stop in Honolulu, Robin walked up to the cockpit.

“How are things up here?”

“Just peachy, boss,” Jack Moore, the team's most experienced pilot said as Robin stepped through the door.

“Good. I want the people who hold my life in their hands to be happy.”

“Rob, ol’ Fatboy here practically flies himself. You're just paying us exorbitant salaries to babysit him.”

“Oh, I feel better now. You left a real flying job with US Customs to get paid more to babysit.”

“You guys see a problem with that?”

“I've been looking for an angle like this my whole life,” engineer Eric Newman replied.

“Same here,” copilot Oscar Leighton added.

“I don't know why I ever agreed to bring you cowboys on board this gig.”

“Because you love us, boss, that's why.”

“I guess that's it. Just remember when we get one hundred miles from Bangkok, arm the defense suite on this baby. If the Russians know we are coming, it could get nasty.”

Jack turned and looked at Robin. “Jesus, Rob. It's our first mission and you're already getting cynical.”

“It's my job to get everyone home. People other than Grassley know we're moving on this guy. Just stay alert for threats.”

“You got it, Mother Marlette,” Oscar cracked.

“It's so good to hear a familiar refrain. How long do we have before landing in Bangkok?”

“The flight computer says ten hours and seven minutes.”

“Thanks, Jack. See you guys later.” The pilots saluted as Robin started up the stairs to the intelligence deck.

“What's the latest intel, Jamie?” Jamie turned and smiled at Robin, a broad true smile that showed the attachment and respect between the two men. The head wound Jamie received in the gun battle with the Rodriquez drug cartel permanently affected his ability to move his right hand and leg. He reported for duty expecting to be put out to pasture, but Robin had other plans. A year of training on electronic surveillance, computers and communications at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, produced a first class intelligence officer. Jamie took to it all like a duck to water.

“Chien reports the Soviet ambassador went up to see Ivanov today.” A former South Vietnamese Navy SEAL, Chien Nguyen-Tran, the team's area representative, lost his left foot to a land mine. When the South Vietnamese government collapsed in 1972, he escaped to Thailand, settled in Phuket and opened a tourist shop.

“How did he find that out?”

“He says his wife comes from a large Bangkok family. One of them is the assistant head housekeeper at the Landmark.”

“You're kidding me!”

Jamie grinned broadly at the intelligence coup. “Scout's honor, boss.”

Robin felt a lot better about pulling this mission off. “All right, the next contact you have with Chien, tell him we need a way around Thai Customs at the Bangkok airport. We can let them inspect if we have to, but the less they know about Fatboy, the better. Also tell him to rent four surveillance cars. Nothing fancy, just cars that fit in.”

“Will do, Rob.”

“Have you finished loading the info I need for the briefing?”

“Yep, maps, photos, mug shots and dossiers. You're all set.”

After the team assembled, Robin continued the briefing done on the first leg of the trip. Everyone stared at the small computer screen at their seat in the briefing room as he covered the geography of Bangkok and the surrounding area in more detail. A large red dot pinpointed their target…the Landmark Hotel.

Robin tapped the screen and it zoomed in on a set of schematic drawings showing the interior of the Landmark from the service basement to the penthouse. “As you can see, we have a straight shot with the service elevator from the service basement to the penthouse because it gets special treatment.” Robin touched the screen again. “These are the pictures and intel on Ivanov and the Russian ambassador. The code name for Ivanov is Stinky. The code name for the ambassador is Uncle.”

“We launch as soon as we get clear of customs. Our man on the ground is Chien Nguyen and he'll have transport waiting for us. Weapons will be silenced pistols and they should only be used if your life is in danger. Each two man team will carry four Rattlesnake knock-out syringes. Remember, we want this guy alive.

Plan A is to use Chien's contact to get us up to the penthouse. We'll knock Stinky out, put him in a laundry cart, go down the service elevator, then we'll make a beeline for the airport. A Range Rover will meet us just outside the airport and we will transfer Stinky into the Rover and it will go directly to Fatboy. The rest of us will drop off the rental cars, but Chien will handle the payment details.

Plan B will activate if we have to deal with any outside interference…namely the KGB or the GRU, the Russian military intelligence unit. If they are in the area we will have to neutralize them before we move the target out. That's why I want you to carry the extra syringes. We'll still have to get up to the penthouse, but we won't move until we have taken care of the Russian agents. The rest will go as we briefed before. Any questions or comments?”

Later, Robin looked up from his desk as Ernie Jackson came into his cabin.

“Sorry to bother you, Rob, but we need to talk.”

“What's up, brother?”

“We are less than two hours from Bangkok. We got a message from Grassley. The KGB is going to make a move to get Stinky today.”

“Are they on the ground?”

“They don't know.”

Robin thought for a minute. “Any word from Chien?”

“We had contact an hour ago. Everything is still go with him, including getting us past customs…it'll just cost us.”

“Chien said Stinky is still at the Landmark?”

“Check.”

“Okay, on the next contact, I'll need to talk to him. Plans will stay the same. We will just have to play it by ear.”

Thirty minutes later, Chien called again.

“Chien, this is Robin.”

“Robin! How are you?”

“Doing good my friend. Can you put together a surveillance team ASAP?”

“I don't know. I can start calling relatives. Why?”

“I am not sure we're going to get there before the Russians. If they grab Stinky before we get there, we're going to need to know where they are.”

“I'll start calling relatives. My cousin says he is still at the Landmark.”

“That's good. Get a surveillance team up and keep me updated every half-hour. Turn your radio on and put it on Tac 8 scrambled. I'll contact you when we are on the ground.”

S
IX

GROUND CONTROL DIRECTED JACK
to park the aircraft in a remote part of the Bangkok Airport. Robin exited the plane by the internal stairway and was wrapped with sticky, warm air. A short, wiry man in a very officious uniform stood next to a car waiting for him, with an expectant smile on his face.

“Good afternoon, sir. I'm Robin Marlette.”

“I am Captain Alak Shenawatra, Supervising Airport Customs Officer.”

Robin bowed slightly and handed the officer an expanding file containing the plane's documentation, passports of the entire team and a plain brown envelope. The officer went to his car and motioned for Robin to follow. He retrieved a set of rubber stamps and proceeded to stamp the visa in each passport. Pulling out another form, he stamped it too. He put the passports and the form back into the folding file and removed the brown envelope. He thumbed the currency and looked at Robin with a smile.

“Welcome to Thailand. Your vehicles are waiting for you in front of the cargo terminal to your right.”

“Thank you, Captain. You're very kind.”