Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller (11 page)

The ambassador broke the spell. “Gentlemen, Monday I shall call on the minister of home affairs and insist the police arrest this man Toffer if they haven’t done so by the end of today. Once they’re done interrogating him, we will know what this is all about.” Nolan decided Warren Martin was that all-too-common breed of political appointee who was wealthy enough to buy an ambassadorship, but not smart enough to do something useful with it. He despaired at how the US could entrust a strategically and economically important post to a super PAC founder.

Nolan said, “Mr. Ambassador, I’m probably the only one who could testify against Toffer. He did threaten my wife and children, but I didn’t actually see him stab Kyaw. The embassy car’s been burned, so there’s no evidence Toffer stabbed him from that. I don’t know how good Burma’s criminal court system is—”

“Appallingly slow, incredibly corrupt and egregious in every way.” Hecker’s tone was measured.

“My life is in danger here. I should leave Rangoon as soon as possible.”

Martin was unconvinced. “Why do you think you’re at risk now that you’ve revealed this man’s actions to everyone here? Killing you doesn’t change that fact.”

“Toffer is an intimidator; that’s why he killed Kyaw. If I stick around and testify, he will come after me and perhaps my family as well.”

Matthews butted in, spittle flying. “Nolan’s right. He’s less than a month away from retirement. This isn’t an IT department matter. He should leave it to the professionals in Clandestine Services. I’m sure his family will be safe from the clutches of this bloodthirsty murderer Toffer just as soon as his arch-antagonist Nolan leaves the country.”

Matthews’s sarcasm hung in the poisoned air. Nolan said nothing; however insulting the words, the COS endorsed his wishes. He looked at Hecker and moved his head an inch in either direction. The ambassador filled the gap in the dialogue by wondering why the local police didn’t operate like they did back home in Illinois.

The meeting broke up. Hecker suggested Nolan wait in the Vault as the attendees filed out. Nolan saw Hecker buttonholing Matthews outside the door. Soon their voices were competing, fading into the distance. So much for that private word with Hecker.

CHAPTER NINE

RANGOON HEAT

SUNDAY, MARCH 9, RANGOON

Millie stayed behind, disconnecting cables and tidying up. “When was the last time you checked your Agency email, Bob?”

“Damn. Thursday afternoon. Why do you ask? Can you get me logged in?”

“This morning there’s an ASEAN- and South Asia–wide request from Head of Asia Burns for researchers to go to Singapore for up to two weeks to work on an intra-agency MH370 task force. I’m going to lobby Lloyd. I was wondering if the task force is something you’d be interested in joining, too.”

“Of course. If they let me, I’ll postpone my retirement until this thing gets settled. They certainly aren’t going to find the plane in the Gulf of Thailand.”

“Where do you think it could be? Still in Burma?”

“Possibly upcountry, but based on the briefing, there may not be any landing strips. We know the plane couldn’t have flown undetected into India or China, as their radars are too formidable. If China hijacked the plane, it will be in Yunnan Province or northern Shan State. Teller’s involvement points to someone other than China being behind it. To me, the simplest explanation is that the plane took off and flew back out to sea, staying off radar.”

“Out to sea? Where?”

“Maybe the Maldives. Maybe Bangladesh or Oman. If it had the fuel, Diego Garcia would be a possibility and would immediately mean US sponsorship. DG is notionally British, but the Brits lease most of the island to the US, where we run a huge spy base. There are hundreds of US servicemen based there, operating listening antennae, satellite stations and lots of long-range aircraft. I have no doubt someone would talk eventually, and there would be hell to pay. So DG isn’t a very likely destination.”

“Do you think the White House or Pentagon knows more about MH370 than they let on? If so, could they have run a hijacking without the CIA knowing? Surely the NSA would have to be in on it?”

“Not necessarily. MH370’s abduction could be closer to an old-time act of piracy. Blackbeard loots the ship and doesn’t leave any witnesses. That would fit Teller’s style.”

Hecker stepped back in with a rare smile in place. “Matthews gave us the satellite for the rest of today. His people are asking the NRO to re-task it now. If we get lucky, you’ll get a usable photo. You’ll be OK here for an hour or so? I need to check in on the home front.”

“That’s fine. Millie is setting me up on Agency email, but that shouldn’t take too long.”

“Understood. I want you to brief me further on Toffer/Teller. Let’s meet at the front gate at noon sharp and I’ll give you a ride back to Club Avatar.”

Nolan slumped in the chair across from Millie while she logged herself out. “How in the hell did Hecker get Matthews to agree to anything? I thought they were going to go twelve rounds in there.”

She smiled. “Hecker and Matthews each play to the crowd, are ambitious and know that if they want to win their personal war, they can’t afford to look like bad guys all the time. Besides, that’s an NRO bird. Lloyd’s not using many CIA chips when he makes a request.”

Their meeting Saturday morning had been a rushed one, but the good vibrations of her background briefing session still reverberated. Maybe Millie saw some of Nolan’s former luster, maybe she had a father fixation, or maybe he was imagining things. In any event, he wanted to know more about her and offered up a variant on “What’s a nice girl like you . . . .”

Millie was happy to oblige. “The most surprising thing when I arrived was that I was the only Agency US passport holder with more than a working knowledge of Burmese. I supervise a team of locals who do public domain local languages research and translation. Lloyd comes by my office three or four times a day to ask me about our findings.”

Nolan suspected Matthews’s avuncular attentions weren’t entirely research-related, but said nothing.

“I’ve been working seven days a week since arriving. Now that something exciting has happened with MH370, I’m dying to get on that task force and try to make a positive impression. Maybe that can be the fast track into covert ops.”

Millie displayed such enthusiasm that his mind drifted back to Thailand in 1985. Nolan’s first posting after training was in the embassy as a cipher clerk and gofer. Heady times, though Nolan’s initiation to the CIA turned ugly just months later. While she sorted email, he examined the large map hanging on the wall behind her. Giant Shan State dominated the upper right-hand corner, abutting China’s Yunnan Province to the north and Laos and Thailand to the east. Kachin State was even farther north and to the west, a dagger jabbing into Yunnan’s underbelly.

“Tell me why the search of Burma is focused on Shan State?” he asked.

Millie looked up and followed his gaze over her shoulder. “In recent years, the number of methamphetamine labs has exploded. It’s a ten-billion-dollar a year export business. Burma is also the number two heroin supplier in the world, trailing only Afghanistan. The Army is the biggest heroin producer with warlords, rebel militias and politicians also involved. It’s pretty much a free-for-all even today. China is the most important consumer, and therefore hates the drug trade the most.”

“Hmmm,” Nolan grunted in a noncommittal voice. He heard the exuberance of youth and wondered what Millie would think of Burma if she spent quality time in Iraq, Saudi Arabia or Iran.

“And until last night, you’d never heard of Jay Toffer or Robin Teller?”

“No, those names are both firsts for me. Remember, though, that I’ve only been in-country since January this year and as staff head of research I function more as a librarian than as an intelligence analyst.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. My first overseas assignment, I mostly ran a shredder and built spreadsheets for a bankrupt arms dealer. When you’re new, you should be happy just to earn an assignment away from Langley. That alone counts for a lot when it comes time for the next posting to be decided.”

Millie stood and bent over the desk, arms supporting her ample infrastructure as she leaned closer. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on Teller,” she cooed.

“My theory is that he’s behaving like this to get everyone focused on him, and not on whatever HVTs came off MH370. Wherever Teller goes next, you can be certain that whatever he’s trying to protect will be moving fast in the opposite direction. I don’t know if it means he’ll send people after you, my family or me. If I’m right, he will go hard only while his treasure is at risk.”

Millie stood up straight and gestured for him to take her chair. “So when he stops trying to kill us, we’re really in trouble, because whatever he took off the plane will be out of our reach?”

“Something like that, yes.” Nolan resisted the temptation to run his hands over her shoulders as they squeezed past. He took a whiff of her hair and smelled fresh shampoo. Millie took his just vacated seat as Nolan started tapping away at her keyboard.

“So what should I do?” she asked.

“You get out of here today or tonight with me. I’ll have Hecker arrange for a friggin’ Marine Honor Guard to take me to the airport and onto the plane. I want Teller to know I’ve left. Short of shooting it down or putting a bomb on board—both of which he’s capable of—I think I’ll be OK on a commercial flight. If you come with me, you’ll be safe as well.”

“Yes, I’ll be safe with you.” Millie’s smile was the best thing about this rotten country.

“This morning I sent my wife to China to hide. She’s going to visit her mother’s family on a Guangdong duck farm so remote the locals don’t even speak Cantonese, much less Mandarin. She’ll be there up to the fifteen-day maximum for someone on a Singapore passport, or until things cool off.” Realizing how that sounded, Nolan winced and looked down at the keyboard.

Millie stood up. “You keep doing email. Let me speak with Matthews and see what he says. Maybe I can join you on the flight.”

Forty minutes later, Nolan’s work inbox and personal emails were squared away, but there still wasn’t any sign of Millie. He left a sticky note on the monitor and slowly walked out of Political and Economic Affairs, scanning offices and cubicles for that dynamic silhouette.

Back at the vehicle, Hecker was in higher spirits than Nolan, rejuvenated from having seen his family.

“I told Millie I was leaving today for Singapore, traveling conspicuously so Teller will know I’ve gone. I suggested she do the same. The Agency's head of Asia sent an email asking that librarians and researchers shift to Singapore to work together on MH370 until we find out what happened. She’s with Lloyd right now.”

“Matthews will be hitting on her, but she has too much class to fall for that reptile. Just think of the sexual harassment suit she could file against the Agency if she recorded one of his propositions.”

Nolan let the statement go. Hecker hated everything about Matthews.

Hecker broke the silence. “What do you think was on board MH370 that was worth killing all those people for?”

“I left Millie a note asking her to bring a printout of the passenger and cargo lists. Until I see those, your guess is as good as mine, but the stakes have to be very high for a hijacking. The China angle could mean anything from bio-weapons, money laundering, nerve agents, or political and/or economic espionage. Teller’s involvement means it could be that the causes are forty years old. Malaysia’s mostly Muslim, but they’re staunchly pro-US and wouldn’t allow terrorists to transit. So I doubt it’s someone like Mullah Omar or al-Baghdadi on a secret visit to China. US forces would have snatched him at the Kuala Lumpur airport had they known, or forced the plane down once it reached international waters.”

“Maybe they
did
force it down. Once you start thinking about conspiracies, almost anything is possible.”

“You have to look at the balance of probability. If you scramble fighters, you’ll leave radar traces on oscilloscopes, some of them operated by unfriendlies. In addition, you don’t have a reason to cover up what you’re doing. Why keep it a secret?” Nolan was uncharacteristically impassioned despite his low-decibel delivery.

“Well, how about the pilot didn’t stay on course because al-Zawahiri’s cousin was in the cockpit with a gun to his head? So the F-18s did the next best thing and shot it down.”

“There’s no reason for a cover-up if that’s what happened. I’m mulling over the idea that the plan here was to take something or someone off the flight, then crash the plane so the other side didn’t know these objects or people were in the hijackers’ hands. That would explain a quick landing, transfer and takeoff at Airstrip One with no further trace.”

“Well, that doesn’t help a lot except to suggest Teller has a very dark government-linked client that—oh, hell, it’s Ryder.” Hecker put his phone to his ear. “So are we going to hit the Wild Man of Borneo’s offices today? Already on the agenda? At the same time we discussed? Splendid. Anything else? Yes, I’ll get a fingerprint kit and send Gonzalez to meet you. He’s pretty good at lifting prints. Just keep me posted. If you need to spread some green cheer around the port and at the airport, please do so. No, let’s keep the Army out of this for now. They’re no friends of the DEA . . . .” He chuckled.
“
Yes, I do remember why . . . bye.”

Hecker’s driver Arun expertly shimmied, surged and shuddered through the half-filled Sunday streets. It was building toward the hot season and by the end of May another ten degrees would be piled on top of the low-nineties March temperatures. Nolan felt his shirt and pants dampen even in the air-conditioned Range Rover. The traffic vented black fumes; the AC let in hints of the garbage-infused hairdryer blowing outside their imperfectly sealed vehicle. Workers were jammed into the backs of pickups and open trucks. Deeply tanned smiling faces oscillated as wheels bounced through potholes. Nolan envied their equanimity.