Dual Assassins
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
Dual Assassins
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2015 Edward Vogler
v2.0
Cover Photo © 2015
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. All rights reserved - used with permission.
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This book is dedicated to June, my bride, my wife, my partner for life. Thank you for your continuous encouragement and being that special person in my life.
Chapter One
It was April
1950, St. Louis, Missouri. Jim Wilson, Director of Research and Development at S & S Engineering, hurried to the conference room. Carl Johnson, a tall slender man with straight black hair sat at the long, highly polished walnut table. He fingered through papers in a folder in front of him while holding his head up with his other hand.
As Jim entered the room, Carl snapped his head up and with a forced smile said, “Come on in, Jim, and close the door.” Carl motioned with his hand for Jim to sit and closed the folder in front of him.
Jim pulled a black leather chair back from the table and sat across from Carl. He grabbed a mug from the tray in the middle of the table and filled it with hot coffee from the stainless steel vacuum pitcher.
“You, Carl?” Jim asked as he raised the pitcher toward Carl. Carl grinned, shook his head and raised his hand, gently declining. Jim observed Carl’s hesitation and returned the pitcher to the tray. Jim raised the mug to his lips with both hands while resting his elbows on the table. He inhaled the fresh coffee aroma and gently blew on it to cool it. Jim peered over the cup, “What’s up, Carl? You look like you lost your best friend, everything okay?” He took a sip.
Carl stared at the table, then raised his head and with wrinkled brow said, “MacDonald is coming and he wants to see you and Reanna here tomorrow morning at nine.”
Jim winced, bolted upright in his chair, took a deep breath and exhaled, “What does he want?” He took another sip of coffee.
Carl shook his head, swallowed hard and held up his hand as if warding the question off. “I don’t know. He just said to make sure you and Reanna are here tomorrow at nine. You know how the Agency is…need to know.”
Jim glanced at Carl, then glared down at the table. “Sometimes I wonder if joining the CIA was the wisest thing for me to do.”
“You’ve done wonders for the Agency and the country. I know you didn’t mean that,” said Carl, frowning.
“Don’t worry, Reanna and I will be here tomorrow, no problem. But it’s been a while since either one of us have been active. I thought the CIA had long forgotten about us.”
Carl grinned, “Fat chance of that ever happening. They have an excellent memory--in fact too good if you ask me. You know you can always count on me if you need anything…you and Reanna.”
“Thanks,” responded Jim as he got up from the table and returned to his office. He sat behind his desk and tapped nervously on its surface.
Damn, how would he break this to Reanna?
After a few moments, he picked up the receiver and held it against his ear as he dialed the hospital. Soon he was talking with Reanna.
“Honey,” Jim said, “don’t stop anywhere on your way home tonight. Something important has come up and we need to talk.”
“Okay, but what happened?”
“Umm…let’s just say we have a get-together with Mac tomorrow morning here at the office.”
“Damn,” said Reanna. “Does this mean—?”
“Don’t know…probably, but we—“
“We’ve done our share,” pleaded Reanna. “We need time for ourselves.” The phone line went silent for a moment, then Reanna continued, “Sorry, hon. I’ll support you with whatever happens. You know that.”
“Thanks, I know you will. I’ll see you at home later this afternoon. I love you.”
Reanna’s shoulders slumped while she stared at the telephone. She didn’t want to go anywhere. They both had good jobs and a good
life. She’d had enough spy business to last her a lifetime. If she didn’t go, Jim would feel abandoned. But if he went and she didn’t, it could affect their marriage. What was Jim going to do?
Jim and Reanna
arrived early at S & S the following day and entered the conference room. They walked to the other side of the table and sat down facing the door.
“This is a beautiful room,” said Reanna, scanning the walnut paneled room. “Hope you don’t have to leave it. I told the nursing director at the hospital that I wouldn’t be in today. So I have the entire day—“
“Good morning,” said Jim as Sandy, a tall thin woman, entered the room wearing a long straight dress. She carried a silver tray containing a coffee pitcher, cups and an assortment of breakfast cakes and placed it in the middle of the table.
“Morning Mr. Wilson…Reanna,” said Sandy with a warm smile. She filled two cups with steaming coffee, added cream to one cup and placed in front of Reanna. She then placed a cup in front of Jim and said, “Here’s your black one, Mr. Wilson. If you need anything else—“
“Morning,” said Carl as he entered the room holding a coffee mug and sat down across from Jim and Reanna. Without saying a word, Sandy retreated and left the room, just like a rabbit running from the hunter.
Carl grabbed the coffee pitcher and topped off his mug then settled back in his chair.
“What’s going on?” asked Jim as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Don’t know. Mac’s on the telephone in my office now. He’ll be here shortly.” Carl turned toward Reanna, “How’s everything at the hospital…still working in OR?”
“Yes, being the nursing supervisor keeps me busy,” she said with a bubbly light voice. Her eyes sparkled as she continued, “Something different happens every day. I’m busy but I love it.”
Bob MacDonald, who looked to be in shape for being nearly fifty years old, entered the room, “Good morning, everybody,” as he glanced at each one at the table.
“Morning, colonel,” said Jim prompting an immediate frown on Mac’s face as he sat down next to Carl, and let out a heavy sigh. He clenched his jaw and stared at Jim.
“Sorry, Mac, I guess old habits die hard.”
“You two ex-Marines are something,” said Carl with a grin.
Mac snapped his head and fixated on Carl with a glassy stare. “No such thing as an EX-Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine. We only wear a different uniform.”
“I didn’t mean anything by—”
“Carl, you can leave us now,” Mac retorted. “I need to discuss business with both Jim and Reanna…in private.”
Carl didn’t respond. His face flushed, he grabbed his coffee mug, and, without any eye contact, he left the room. Jim and Reanna exchanged glances then focused on Mac.
“You best get over those old habits,” said Mac in a calm voice. “Old habits can one day kill you.”
Silence filled the room. Jim and Reanna followed Mac’s every move as he grabbed the pitcher and filled his cup with hot coffee. Returning the pitcher to the tray, he brought the steaming cup to his mouth and downed half the cup as if it was a shot of whiskey before returning the cup to the table. He fingered the top of the coffee cup then looked up and focused on Jim and Reanna.
“We have been assigned an important mission and it will involve both of you.”
Jim and Reanna exchanged glances.
MacDonald continued, “As you know, South Korea is in a state of flux. During the past year, the U.S. has recalled most of the troops and equipment from the country. In fact, most of the tanks and heavy equipment have been donated to various local governments. In one instance, large numbers of trucks and equipment have been dumped into the ocean to form an artificial reef to provide living space for the local sea life.”
“That sounds like a total waste,” said Jim. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re right,” responded Mac. “The weapons the South Koreans do have are those left by the Japanese after the war.”
“That still doesn’t make any sense,” said Jim, staring at Mac with narrowed eyes. Reanna reached under the table and held Jim’s hand.
“Meetings are currently being held between the North and the South but so far, they haven’t had any positive results. Actually, the conditions there are getting worse. Frank Henderson, the under-secretary of state plans to attend a secret meeting in Seoul in eight days. He’s young and bold and, frankly, I think he’s in way over his head.”
“Well, how does this affect me?” asked Jim, folding his arms across his chest.
“We have received some information that suggests the Russians intend to assassinate Henderson while he’s there. They want to combine forces with North Korea and provoke us into another war. We’re not prepared or willing to enter a war with Russia. This is critical, Jim. We need you to prevent that from happening.”
“Korea?” Jim yelped as he bolted upright in his chair. “Me…why me?”
“Because you’re good and the country needs you. Do you remember when you were captured by the Japanese during the last war?”
Jim shot Mac a look as his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. “Do I remember? Is that what you asked?” Mac remained motionless in his chair and returned Jim’s stare.
Jim continued, “I remember it as if it was yesterday--every day. It never goes away. The sounds of my beatings still echo in my head…the unbearable pain. They beat me to within an inch of my life. I still smell my captors’ unwashed and sweating bodies and the smell of blood…my blood as it trickled down my body.”
Jim’s skin bunched around his eyes, his jaw clenched again. “On my lucky days, I’d eat nothing but a meager portion of rice covered with bugs for days on end.” Jim remained focused on Mac, cleared his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he continued, “Yes, I can remember...I can’t forget. I just try to live with it every day, every…”
Reanna squeezed Jim’s hand again under the table and his face began to relax. With flushed face, he shifted his weight back in his chair.
“I’m sorry,” said Mac. After a short pause, Mac continued, “The country needs you. We need you in Washington in two days. You’ll get the particulars then. You won’t be alone in Korea. Henderson will have a guard detail traveling with him to protect him in Seoul. So for you, it should be a comparatively easy mission.”
Jim raised his coffee cup to his lips with both hands and took a sip of coffee, looking at Mac over the rim of the cup. “Easy mission…I’ve heard that before. But why do you need me if he has a guard detail with him?”
“He’ll have the DSS, Diplomatic Security Service with him. They’ll focus on Henderson’s safety, a reactive mode I might add. You on the other hand will search out the assassin. You must eliminate the threat
before
any possible assassination attempt.”