COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN, Joe Bergeron [epub e ink reader .txt] 📗

If he
trusts you, so do I. When you think I need to know
something, tell me. Otherwise, I’m here on McKenzie
business, and that’s all anyone needs to know.”
113
“Thanks, Eddie, I can see why you have Pat’s
confidence. Let’s go, I have to go and make some phone
calls.”
The first call was made from the second line in
the suite - the exchange now wired into the Wollensak.
Courtney knew there was a high probability the
breachers would eventually find their hotel. The
probability of them searching the suite once they were
found was even higher. He needed the recorder for just
one incoming conversation.
Wirtham was finishing a review of the Cuban
information he’d requested. One final piece would
arrive on his desk shortly.
The sound on his Merlin indicated a call.
“Robert Wirtham.”
“Robert, it’s Michael. I’m patched through on
the reel to reel. We haven’t had the next call yet, have
we?”
“No, it hasn’t come through.”
“I’m going to leave this line open here, Robert.
Put this call through JGM’s secure line to McKenzie.
We’re encrypted here to record on that activation.”
Wirtham understood.
“I got it.”
Courtney needed something else.
“Can you give me Griffin’s number”
“Yes - hold on a minute.”
JGM’s President tapped twenty-one keystrokes
on the keyboard to his left, a JGM computer
immediately responded with a detailed portfolio on the
WALL SSTREET JOURNAL staff writer, which
included his home phone number.
He relayed the finding.
“Here it is, five five five, seven eight six zero.”
“Thanks - how are you making out with the
Cuban information?”
“We’re just about through.”
114
“Hang on to it. Break off for the evening and
send it over tomorrow.”
“OK - be safe.”
Wirtham’s phone was cradled, Courtney’s line
remained open.
The aromatic fragrance, and the sweet, tart
tang of McIintosh apples have been enjoyed by people
since 1811 when John McIntosh discovered the first
seedling. McIntosh apples grow particularly well in
New York’s cool climate and are available September
through June.
Tom Griffin had just finished his McIntosh,
throwing its skinny core into the trash compactor of his
Washington apartment. Express mailed each week by
his parents from upstate Cortland, New York orchards,
a McIntosh was his choice of supplement following a
workout.
He hadn’t received the urgent TAC 5 prepared
by an organization he felt was the most dominant force
in the USA.
Because his newspaper’s circulation was over
two million, he’d missed the cutoff mark of writers
instructed to prepare positive Cuban Reform Plan
press.
Had he received the TAC, the young staff
writer would have already been half way through his
story, and would have had it completed for editorial
review by Monday morning.
Griffin was considered by both Wirtham and
Courtney to be one of the best candidates ever recruited
into Yankee Echo.
The twenty-four year old was relaxing on his
couch when his phone rang.
Picking up the receiver, he acknowledged with
a traditional ‘hello’.
“Tom, this is Michael Courtney calling.”
Griffin sat up straight.
115
“Oh - Mister Courtney - hi - how are you - what
can I do for you?”
Courtney relayed his communication.
“Tom, I read the article you wrote on the Cuban
Economic Plan - your interview with the Secretary of
Commerce. I thought it was interesting that he called
you for an exclusive.”
Griffin sat up even straighter.
“That didn’t come from him, Mister Courtney. I
got a letter through the Cuban Embassy about six
weeks ago, pretty high-up signature on it - a Catalina
Salazar, Special Administrative Assistant to Cuba’s Vice
President, Miguel Belize.”
Courtney recalled Andy St. Croix’s telephone
conversation and the card he’d found in Dan Bellcamp’s
nightstand.
“Who did you say signed it?”
“Salazar - Catalina - it’s Spanish for Kathleen.”
“Can you describe the contents of the letter,
Tom.”
“Yes, in fact I still have it. I did my research on
this project, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.
My Managing Editor was kind of put out that I got the
call on this, so I took a lot of extra care to be thorough.”
“The write was fine, Tom, we’re just very
sensitive to the Presidential initiative, and we’re
checking out all the stories we see. We haven’t decided
which way we’re going with this. I know you received a
standby fax on this that was write positive, but things
may change, and we haven’t produced a final TAC yet.
How about the letter?”
“It came courier class, embassy status,
monarch letterhead with the Vice President’s
designation. I checked it out with their embassy. They
acknowledged positively. If you can hang on a second,
I’ll go get it and read it to you.”
“Go ahead.”
116
Courtney lifted the phone off the nightstand by
the bed. Placing it on the bedspread next to him, he
grabbed a pen and yellow legal pad off the same
surface. Resting the receiver on his lap, and fluffing the
two pillows behind his back, he assumed an upright
seated position. Receiver retrieved, he poised himself to
write highlights.
Griffin indicated his return.
“Here it is - are you there?”
Courtney indicated he was still present.
“I’m here, go ahead and read it”
“OK, here it is…”
“Dear Mister Griffin. The Vice President of
Cuba has asked me to contact you regarding Mister
Randall Benson’s Economic Reform Plan. You come
highly recommended to us by an associate of ours in
Miami. Your publication’s reputation would benefit the
common interests of our countries with an unbiased
story on the reform package. Diplomatic channels have
been cleared, and we have been able to arrange for you
an exclusive interview with the United States Secretary
of Commerce. If you will call his office, you will find
him available. The Secretary’s number is attached as
an addendum herewith. Thank you for your
consideration.”
“That’s it Mister Courtney - it sounded almost
too good to be true.’
The metaphysician hesitated for a moment - he
was still writing.
Griffin accepted the in-between silence - having
done the same thing many times himself - he knew
what was going on.
When Courtney finished his scriblings, he
continued.
“Tom, do you know who this associate of theirs
was in Miami?”
“No, sir - I didn’t think to ask Mister Tollman,
it wasn’t relative to the story. In fact, I didn‘t even know
if he knew himself.” 117
Courtney adjusted himself and kicked his legs
over the side of the bed.
“OK, Tom, I appreciate your time today. You’ll
be seeing some TACS coming your way soon on this
whole issue. If you’re contacted again by Miss Salazar,
please give me a shout.”
Griffin understood - and also thought his boss
should have one more piece of information, if he didn’t
already have it.
“Mister Courtney, did you know the Secretary
of Commerce was leaving for Cuba tomorrow to discuss
the economic plan with Miguel Belize?”
“Yes, I did. How much did he mention about
that visit when you interviewed him?”
“I found him very closed mouth about it. I did
bring it up in the interview, but the only thing he said
was that the talks would be substantive, and that for
this meeting, it would involve just him and Belize.
There was no talk about program development, or
anything like that.”
Courtney was now off the bed and standing.
“Did you find that unusual, Tom?
“Sure - there’s some heavy duty corporations
involved in this plan. Procedurally, they’re ready to
build down there. One of the Executive Vice President’s
I talked to at Cummins said he has blueprints drawn
for his facility but he’s being held at arms length by the
government - ours.”
“Mister Courtney, I was planning a follow-up
when the Commerce Secretary returns - should I hold
off on that?
The analyst did not hesitate with his answer.
“Yes, when he returns, stay away from him.”
“I understand.”
It was time for conclusion.
“Tom, I’ll speak with you soon, thanks for your
help.”
118
Griffin didn’t know what kind of help he’d
given him, but he acknowledged.
“Yes, sir.”
Phones disconnected.
Courtney reviewed part of what he’d written on
the legal pad.
Salazar - Catalina - VP - Adm. Asst? Belize?
Sec of Comm. - Tollman - Miami
Andy - Bellcamp - Card – Catalina
Kay had accompanied Eddie Dalger to the
Hyatt’s lobby for a cup of coffee. He was leaving for
home, there was a family picnic on Sunday. The
Wollensak and its reels would be taken to JGM upon
completion of its
one-call mission. Should he be needed for anything
else, he would be available by car, or McKenzie
Industries helicopter or one of its two executive jets.
Courtney, now on his back and in a prone
position, had replaced the phone on the nightstand. He
held the yellow tablet and tore off the top page, and
reached over to place it on the nightstand. Laying both
the pen and the remainder of the pad on his lap his
crossed arms now covered closed eyes. He was in
concentrated thought.
‘Why do these people want to destroy a plan
both governments want? Who’s Catalina, where does
she fit in? Is Bellcamp’s Catalina the same one?
Where’s Bellcamp now? Where’s Pat being held?’
Kay McKenzie hugged the engineer.
“Thanks so much Eddie. Michael and I really
appreciated your coming down on such short notice, and
on a weekend.”
Dalger was very loyal to McKenzie industries,
it had taken good care of both him, and his family.
119
“ You stay close to Michael, Kathleen. If you
need anything, just call.”
She would need to call him again.
“I will.”
As the engineer walked away, she focused her
mind once again on a man who’d come to trust her.
‘He’d like a cup of coffee - cream, no sugar.’
The thought was spontaneous, without regard
for reciprocity. It was one more simple gesture of real
friendship, something she’d never realized in any male
companion until she met, and befriended him.
She always felt terrible that he hadn’t been
told the whole truth about her father’s clandestine
organization. He should have been told everything -
who was involved - how many writers - everything.
But would he have taken the position of its
Master of Laws? Would she have ever met him? She
released the thought from her mind.
‘Coffee.’
Entering the suite from the bedroom door, her
eyes met his
“You’ve got your thinking cap on, don’t you
Professor?”
He smiled - no answer was necessary to an
obvious truth.
“Thanks - come over here.”
Placing the beverage on the bureau, she kicked
off her shoes, first at on its edge, then swung her long
legs onto the king bed ending up in his arms with her
head laying on his chest.
They didn’t speak as he idly traced his hand
through her blond hair.
Fifteen minutes later, the coffee was
untouched, and now only lukewarm.
And two people were fast asleep in their
original embrace.
120
Chapter 5
Push To An Extreme State
Sunday, May 21, 8:46 a.m.
General Telecom, the world’s largest producer
of telecommunications equipment, and one of the thirty
corporate components of the Dow Jones Industrial
Average, had flown one of its Gulfstreams from Ohare
International Airport in Chicago directly to Dulles
International Airport in Washington, D.C. where a
flight plan had been filed for a trip from Washington to
Havana.
Although The wide, roomy cabin on the plane
could comfortably accommodate up to 12 passengers,
onboard would be a solitary traveler, The Secretary of
Commerce for the United States - one George Tollman.
G.T. was a major contractor for the U.S.
Government, and knew it made good business sense to
take care of this man when he called on them. It was
not unusual for Tollman to travel by means of private
business aircraft from the fleets of America’s corporate
giants.
His luggage