CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Two Days after the Israeli attack on Iran’s WMD Facilities Interagency Fugitive Operations Office, Brooklyn Court Street Federal Building.
U.S. Marshals, Frank Jefferys and Linc Goodworth fidgeted with their reports, with their uniforms, with lunch, with anything to cut the boredom. They had not had a takedown assignment for three days, and the idleness was wearing on the two action-junky law enforcement specialists. Frank watched the fax and teletype hoping for the tell-tale sounds of an incoming message. Linc stated that he could not, would not touch another drop of the crude oil that passed for coffee in the cluttered IFO office. He thought about cleaning up the clutter; but it seemed pointless; so, he let it go. It was a sign of desperation that he even thought about it.
Except for the clutter—the room was drab and dull—almost sterile. There were mandatory large photographs adorning the west wall of President Storebridge, Attorney General Gertrude Heimel, and USMS Director Colin McPherson. Haphazardly placed on the drab, but spotlessly clean brick walls, were New York City maps, most-wanted posters of federal fugitives from FBI, ATF, DEA, and United States Marshals’ Service sources, computer printouts of crime statistics and current statuses of some the truly most wanted, large print copies of federal regulations, and two No Smoking signs. There was no graffiti, no jokes of any kind, no personal memorabilia, and no photographs other than those of the most senior U.S. government officials and service directors.
There were regulation steel lockers and gun cabinets lined up neatly against the walls all around the room. A soft drink dispenser sat on one wall, and a coffee maker and small folding table with cups on another. In the rear of the room was a windowless steel door that led to the holding cells. The room contained fifteen desks; each desk had an uncomfortable straight back steel chair. There was no privacy, no interview room, and no comfort.
The desks were regulation gun-metal grey and had all accumulated piles of paper—mostly unfinished reports—the bane of the existence of the officers and the secretaries, and a top of the line latest computer through which most of the information passed and most of the communications work got done. Unlike the offices of the USMS Bronx unit’s squad room, everything was clean; there was no tobacco smell or pollution of the stale air in the stuffy room, and everything was painted on a regular basis.
The fax machine stood in the middle of the room for the convenience of all of the officers who had occasion to work in or pass through the office. Both Frank and Linc jumped when the fax machine came to life. They hurried over to watch the bulletin print out an IFN [Interagency Fugitive Notice].
MESSAGE BEGINS
Message Origin: United States Department of Justice
Date and time of Transmission: 17 January, 0921
Message Recipients: Lead and Communications responsibility—IFO (Interagency Fugitive Operations); USMS (All 94 offices), FBI, ATF, DEA, JTF-6, NCIC, VICAP, FLO, NYPD FAT SQUAD, INS, CIA, NSC, ALL STATE AND D.C. POLICE AND MAJOR CITY POLICE OFFICES, ALL FPUs and STATE PURSUIT UNITS.
Canada: CPIC, FIRS-Nationwide.
U.K.: Scotland Yard, U.K. wide Special Police Forces, SOCA-Serious Organized Crime Agency,
France: Gendarmerie National, Police Nationale
Russia: Federal Security Service (FSB), Ministry of Internal Affairs Militsiya, OMON: Russian—Отряд милиции особого назначения Otryad Militsii Osobogo Naznacheniya, Special Purpose Police Unit (OMOH)
Subject: Hunter (NMN) Caulfield, Capt. USN, AD.
Criminal counts. Felony: CHAPTER 7—ASSAULT, paragraph 111, Assaulting, resisting, or impeding certain officers or employees, paragraph 115, Influencing, impeding, or retaliating against a Federal official by threatening or injuring a
family member; CHAPTER 35—ESCAPE, paragraph 751; Prisoners in custody of institution or officer, paragraph 758, High speed flight from immigration checkpoint; CHAPTER 40—IMPORTATION, MANUFACTURE, DISTRIBUTION AND STORAGE OF EXPLOSIVE MATERIALS, paragraph 842, unlawful acts; CHAPTER 41—EXTORTION AND THREATS, paragraph 878, Threats and extortion against foreign officials, official guests, or internationally protected persons; CHAPTER 43—FALSE PERSONATION, paragraph 912, Officer or employee of the United States; CHAPTER 44—FIREARMS, paragraph 922. Unlawful acts, 926 A., Interstate transportation of firearms and 929, Use of restricted ammunition; CHAPTER 51—HOMICIDE, paragraph 1111, class A felony murder, 1112, manslaughter, and 1113, attempt to commit murder or manslaughter; 1116. Murder or manslaughter of foreign officials, official guests, or internationally protected persons; CHAPTER 55—KIDNAPPING, paragraph 1203, hostage taking; CHAPTER 75—PASSPORTS AND VISAS, paragraphs 1541, Issuance without authority, 1542, False statement in application and use of passport, 1543, Forgery or false use of passport, 1544, Misuse of passport, 1546, Fraud and misuse of visas, permits, and other documents; Chapter 113 B—TERRORISM, paragraph 2332b Acts of terrorism transcending national boundaries, 2332d Financial transactions, 2332f Bombings of places of public use, government facilities, public transportation systems, and infrastructure facilities
BOLO-See CIA internal communication US9164-CT 4779, 0107TWEP
Description:
See BOLO
Comment: Fugitive is an expert marksman, martial artist, a master of disguises, and a pitiless killer capable of using multiple lethal methods.
He is presumed to be heavily armed and willing to resort to violence at any instance in which his freedom is threatened. He is extremely dangerous and should be approached only with a JTF-6 or police swat team equivalent. He will not hesitate to kill law enforcement officers or bystanders. Use of deadly force is approved unless the fugitive complies with lawful commands immediately.
Linc Goodworth waited until Frank Jefferys finished reading, then the senior Marshal said, “Ya know, I have been at this for eighteen years. I have never seen a CIA fugitive memo like this except for the ones put out on Ilich Ramírez Sánchez in 1975…”
“Who?”
“Before your time. Before mine actually. He was the famous killer/terrorist, Carlos, the Jackal.”
“Oh yeah, I seen the movie.”
“I just read about him. Anyway—as I was about to say—the other one was what they put out on bin Laden. Obama guaranteed his presidency by killing that terrorist. This guy must be one baad hombre. They’ve sent this “Be-On- the-Look-Out-for” to everybody in the world. They want him bad.”
“It’d make a guy’s career, wouldn’t it Linc? You’d go from a GS-11 to the USMS HQ in Arlington, and I’d go from GS-8 to a GS-12 even at my tender age. I’d have a real shot at the director’s chair one day.”
“Dream on Frank; dream on. We have about as much chance of seeing this guy as we had of seeing bin Laden come in here and give himself up back in the day. Ya know, I don’t want ever to get anywhere near this rattlesnake. I believe the spooks and the fibbies when they say this is a muy malo hombre.”
“How about we pull up the BOLO?” Frank suggested, his curiosity and excitement piqued.
Linc messed with the computer for a minute and got into the file.
BOLO- CIA internal communication US9164-CT 4779, 0107TWEP.
From: Office of the DCIA
To. ALL OFFICERS
Subject Hunter Caulfield is an active duty naval officer seconded to Central Intelligence. He is a rogue agent who is responsible for several hundred killings, presumably as a contract agent for a foreign power. He was assigned to analysis duties with the Department of Agriculture on assignment in the NASS; the USDA’s National Agricultural Statistics Service working on RSS—Rich Site Summary feeds. He was responsible for research and reporting activity on Web sites that contain article headlines, summaries, and links back to full-text articles on the Web. His specific interest was the FAS—Foreign Agricultural Service. Agency evidence indicates that he used the cover of his rather mundane analysis work to allow him to pursue his role as a professional assassin. He is known to have killed at least five federal agents.
Description:
DOB-07/30/1950
Blood Type- A+, DNA on file with DOD and CIA
Race-Caucasian. Light complexion
Hair-Dark brown and graying. Variable hair styles.
Height-6”2’
Weight-225 pounds
Build-Athletic, muscular, slim
Tattoos-None
Marks and Scars-Multiple over almost every part of his body, including knife and gunshot wound scars, burn scars. Long diagonal left facial scar. See included photos.
“Scary dude. He’s been through the mill, looks like.”
“Amen.”
“Still, I’d like a shot at him.”
“Your funeral.”
Hunter stayed an extra day at the Continental, then, as instructed by Roger Ward, took a night flight on Viet Nam Airlines to Phú Bài Airport, south of Hué, the old imperial capital. He picked up a copy of the Vietnam News for 5,000 VND, a Washington Post printed in Hué with a major emphasis on Viet Nam for 6,000 dong, and that week’s Economist for 10,000. The exchange rate for one Vietnamese dong that day was 19,150 VND to one USD. Sheep Dog had had only Euros since he arrived in France, and that day he was getting 26,400 VND to 1 Euro. It was mildly amusing to have to stuff so much cash into his sport coat pocket.
He found a waiting taxi and haggled over the price for the trip into central Hué to 52 Le Loi Street, the Huong Giang Hotel. They settled on a price of 191,000 VND which substantially diminished his load of paper. He skimmed the reading material on the way to the hotel and found that now his name appeared prominently along with his picture, but only on mid-back pages of the publications. The real news was about the Israeli attack. Full front page articles and photographs told of and showed the devastation wrought on the Iranian nuclear facilities. The Iranian foreign minister decried the attack as “barbaric”; the defense minister avowed that the Iranian military was only “biding its time” before launching an all-out retaliation, and the interior minister told of the massive reconstruction effort that would be required to bury all of the radioactive waste.
A Reuters reporter quoted the interior minister as saying, “We have received generous offers of financial aid from the United States, and the government of the Islamic Republic of Iran will consider the offer with caution. We welcome the overture, but the climate of mistrust between our two countries will have to improve before we can accept assistance.”
Hunter left the publications on the back seat of the cab when he arrived at the hotel.
He had always been fond of the Huong Giang Hotel, named for the beautiful clean blue Perfume River on whose bank the hotel sat. The river was named for the pungent aroma it once had from upstream cinnamon factories. The hotel was modern and commodious. A call came in shortly after he had settled in. Nguyen Tran Ky, senior partner of the Chou Yen Lee Family tong in Hué, welcomed him to the imperial city and asked if he would care to meet him for dinner that evening.
The two men took their seats for dinner at the Song Huong Floating Restaurant on the perfume River between the Huong Giang Hotel and the old Clemenceau Bridge. They passed only polite dinner conversation until after coffee, then Mr. Nguyen got to the matters of importance.
He spoke French, “Monsieur Le Croix, you are quite evidently a man of substance and an old friend of the family. It is my honor and pleasure to welcome you to the city. I was busy yesterday and was successful in finding what I hope will be an appropriate location—private and comfortable—for you to live here, and I will be able to include you among the partners in our Hué Import-Export Enterprises. That should give you plenty of time and opportunity to travel if you wish. Also, I have taken the liberty of some minor editing in your history with the company. You will find that you have been a corporate officer for over a decade. Is such a…how shall we say… “creative historical revision” acceptable?”
Sheep Dog laughed and said, “Eminently.”
“Good. Why don’t we take a small motor trip out to your new estate and to the office tomorrow. If it suits you, we will be able to finalize formalities at the land office and get you into an office in our building.”
“I would like to get over the financial transactions as soon as we can; so, we can begin working together.”
“Most of that can also be taken care of at the office tomorrow.”
The next day started as a beautiful sunny, but quite chilly, morning. Sheep Dog had coffee and toast in the restaurant and walked out to see the day. Shortly, a limo pulled up and Sheep Dog joined Nguyen Tran Ky in the rear seating area; and they left for a brief whirlwind tour of the city and east into the countryside beyond the last named thoroughfare, Duong Van An Street. Mr. Nguyen gave the driver a series of directions leading a complicated route around poorly maintained dirt roads. They stopped about ten kilometers east of the outermost reaches of the main city in a small grove of trees bordering a large expanse of open fields. Mr. Nguyen pointed to the east.
“The family owns this beautiful piece of land and is willing to sell it to you at a reasonable cost. We ask four million dollars. However, you must realize that the government does not allow foreigners to own property in the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam; but rather, you have to lease it for 99 years. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then we need only sign the proper papers back at the office, and you will have a part of the country where you can reside in peace and safety. You may build, irrigate, fence, and enhance the property as you wish.”
“Thank you for your courtesy and help, Mr. Nguyen. May I ask how many acres there are in the parcel?”
“Seventeen. You will find the survey markers easily. They are brilliant red with gold lettering, and there are a plethora of them.”
“I’ll walk it tomorrow.”
They were then driven back to the tong’s office at 612 Tran Quang Khai Street near Tu Do Stadium where Mr. Nguyen and three accountants explained the business of Hué Import-Export Enterprises, and Sheep Dog’s role in the company. It was apparent that beyond his initial buy-in costs, little would be expected of him in the way of work. Mr. Nguyen made it clear; however, that, if he wanted to do so, he would be welcome to serve as a consultant and, in time, to work his way into an actual directorship role. That was fine with Sheep Dog. He went on-line and transferred $10 million to the treasurer of the company and another $10 million to the charity arm of Hué Import-Export Enterprises, called The Golden Helping Hands.
Mr. Nguyen bade Sheep Dog farewell and had him driven back to the Huong Giang Hotel. It was noon. In four hours, Sheep Dog had started a new, hopefully secure, life in the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam as the Frenchman, Jean-Luc Le Croix. He remained in the hotel another two nights before paying his bill—using his old credit card under the name of Stefan Danglois—then discarded all documents in that name.