Cigarettes for Two: A Lee Thomas Novel (Spy Dreams Book 3) Page 3

  “Sir, I do not give a damn who you are or how important you think you are! You are not supposed to be here. I imagine that you are probably trying to feather your political nest by bullying your way into this operation. That option is the best case scenario for you. Worst case is that you are bought and paid for and trying to horn in to gather intelligence for your paymaster. Forcing your way in will not work with me. I once gave an order in front of witnesses to authorize the use of lethal force on a Major in the Marine Corps if he interfered again. My balls are bigger than yours so do not try me. Unless someone here can give me a good reason for your presence then you will be escorted out by United States Marshals and held incommunicado until the operation is over. It is my ass and the asses of other operatives on the line. I will not be placed at risk for the sake of politics.” I gave him an almost snarling thousand yard stare. “We are dealing with people who have no scruples. These are people who are not really concerned with their own lives much less those of strangers.” I took a dramatic pause. The thousand yard stare is really sort of upsetting to non covert types.

  “John, is he on the guest list?” John smiled an almost evil smile.

  “No, he is a political appointee from Miami. He just showed up.”

  I looked around the others at the table, “Gentlemen, who told him about this meeting?” No one responded. “I can surmise from your lack of response that you now realize that someone has had a leak in their department. There is no other way that he knew the location and time of the meeting. Find out who told him! Until that leak is closed we are on hold. I will give all of the invited attendees the benefit of doubt that you did not give him any information. Heaven help you if I find out otherwise. John, this meeting is over. Set up a new one. Direct contact only! No memos, no messages left on answering machines and no messages left with anyone not a part of this operation.” I turned back to our interloper, “Before you start telling me how important you are you need to listen. You will cooperate in our finding the leak. Refusal to do so will definitely not be in your best interest. From this point on you do not get any operational information. From the stunned look on your face I guess that you are probably clean.” I spoke to the room in a general sort of way, “Check out his vehicle for trackers. I also want a full three block perimeter sweep of the area.” I looked around the table again. “My associate will take care of getting the area checked. You gentlemen are here until you get an all clear. I also want a full bug sweep of all vehicles.”

  I turned back and scanned the faces around the table, “This meeting is adjourned. John will make the new arrangements.” John nodded and I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this.

  Our little political friend had suddenly realized that he was trying to punch well above his weight class or to put it as someone once told me; he tried to get in a pissing match against a fire hose. Two big and mean looking Marshals escorted him out. They were having trouble not grinning at his discomfort. No, they were not going to keep him incommunicado for the duration, probably not, but his questioning was not going to be fun. I waited behind after everyone left so that I could have a face to face with John.

  “Why in the name of Sam Hill did you not keep him out?” I thought I knew the answer but I asked anyway.

  “Well, it was safer to keep him here after he showed up and,” he snickered like a teenage girl, “watching you tear someone a new orifice just never gets old. Hell, in a few years you might be as good as the General.” He was almost laughing as he finished speaking.

  “Do you think he is dirty?” my question was an obvious one.

  “No, as dumb as he acts he would have been caught by now if he was on the take. I am much more worried about how he found out that this meeting was supposed to happen. I am personally going to give the location to all of the correct parties before they leave the building. We had another site ready to go in case we needed a follow up.”

  “Did he drive or ride with someone else?”

  “Believe it or not he showed up in a cab. He flew to Atlanta.” John just shook his head at the man’s stupidity. “The good news is that probably means he was not followed.”

  “See that his trip back is slower and much, much less comfortable. I think the back of a squad car for most of the trip would be about right.” I was pissed off and feeling very uncharitable.

  Chapter 3

  Everyone who needed to be at the planning meeting was there the next morning. We had moved the meeting out of Atlanta and to the south. John had already taken care of much of the needed planning. I just wanted to meet the people that I might have to deal with. If any of these people were dirty they were very smart. FBI, DEA and even CIA and maybe NSA had run them through the mill. Of course, they did not know how hard they had been looked at. I also needed to get feedback from each of them on the basic outline that we were planning on working from. You never try to get too detailed in planning when you are dealing with situations as fluid as the drug trade. There have been cases where people had dumped thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of product because something insignificant spooked them. Basically you go in with an end result in mind, a list of things you will not do and a rough idea of how to get from point A to point B.

  I wanted to avoid a direct introduction to the subject of our investigation by an informant. My preferred method would be to put the word out that I was interested in doing some paid transportation service, smuggling, and have the importers come to me. If we got the word out properly and I was in the right places someone would approach me. The one thing that was essential was that I frequent the right places to interact with our quarry. In the drug trade there are places that everyone goes and then the places that are hangouts for specific crews. Going into the competitions bar was a way to start a war. Believe me in the mid 1980’s there were armies of small countries who were not as well armed as South Florida street thugs.

  “Okay, who has someone who can spread the word that someone is looking for work. Multiple sources would be better. Remember that at first I do not want any actual introduction. Just the word spread that I am interested in doing some offshore racing.” Everyone around the conference table laughed at the offshore racing remark. The only offshore racing that most boats were doing was running from the police and Coast Guard. A couple of hands went into the air. Both of them thought they had informants they could trust.

  “On second thought we should ask your sources to be looking out for Lee Williams and give them some basic background. That might actually be safer than telling them to spread the word. If they think you are investigating me then they will assume that I am not undercover.” I wanted any word spread about me to be totally believable. If informants were looking for information to trade to their handlers then they would not think that I was some sort of cop.

  “Remember that the basic story is that Williams is a somewhat shady character with a history of suspected criminal behavior. He has a fast boat and is okay with being outside the law.” A couple of people wrote down some very basic notes. We would make them commit the items to memory before they left unless the notes read like the information for a BOLO (be on the lookout) notice. Notes that looked like a briefing on new criminals were exactly what we wanted. If someone outside our circle saw them they would probably think they were legitimate department intelligence. If a nervous informant did not have to do any acting for an introduction then so much the better for this job and my safety.

  The rest of our session was planning out dead drops for passing of information and other methods of communication. The dead drops took a while to explain to the officers in the room. A dead drop is usually used with a long term asset or someone under tough surveillance. Most of the law enforcement types were not used to the tradecraft that went along with espionage and really deep cover operations. A dead drop is some location that an operative can access easily and probably without suspicion. After leaving information at the drop then the agent either leaves some sort of indicator, a graf
fiti or something else that blends in to the area, to let the handlers know that information needs to be picked up. The indicator can also be left at another location. A dead drop is only for information that is not exactly time critical and perhaps bulky. I would use the dead drops if I had hard copy that needed to be delivered. I would not be able to use the get arrested gambit that is all too common with informants and others in police operations. I was probably going to be watched by the bad guys and being harassed by police too much would be suspicious to say the least. Too much attention from the police would possibly be even worse than too little. Someone who was known to be a smuggler would be expected to be on the radar of the police. People like that would be paid attention to if only to lead the cops to someone higher up the food chain. Fortunately for passing information I also had modern technology on my side for when faster communication was necessary. I had a cell phone and also hidden radios in my car that I could access. The hidden radios could be used anytime I was alone in the car. Anyone seeing me talking, apparently to myself, would probably think I was singing along with the radio. Now days they just figure you are on the phone. Blue tooth headsets are a boon to modern surveillance operations. Talking to yourself in public is much less noticed than it was only a few years ago.

  Maybe one of the most important forms of communication we discussed was recognition and acknowledgment signals. Think of the finger beside the nose in the movie “The Sting”. Our signals would be things that would appear totally normal to anyone unaware of the meaning. A left turn signal followed by a right turn signal on a parked car. We have all seen something like that when someone hits the signal by mistake as they get ready to move out. There would be other similar things both as signals and acknowledgments of signals.

  You try to plan as many details of the operation as possible, even though you know that the details are probably wasted time. You try to define the point where you have reached your objectives. Hell, you try and define your objectives. You set up emergency procedure and exit strategies. You line up backup and strike teams. The real problem is that in drug interdiction operations you are dealing with people, highly unstable people, who are usually very heavy users of the very drugs they sell. Even though this was not a military operation we would be dealing with at least part of Mr. Murphy’s laws of combat. Rule 1: No plan survives first contact. I usually try to function by O’Brien’s law: Murphy was an optimist.

  The one additional item for the operation was going to be supplied by the DEA. One of the DEA agents, who I had worked with before, Stewart Charles, was doing the search. What were they finding me? A very, very fast boat. If you tell people that you are in the business of “import/export” you had better have a suitable way to do that importing and exporting.

  Chapter 4

  The meeting had actually lasted almost two full days. Multiagency operations are a bitch to plan. Little things like different radio frequencies can be a nightmare. Truth is that the planning would have taken longer, but the framework of the op had been begun months before. Two or three people had done most of the planning and then kept it close to the vest. The major holdup had been finding the correct operative for this job. It was my good fortune, yes that is sarcasm, that someone remembered a little incident in 1978. After remembering me they got in touch with General Fleming and so here I was headed south from Georgia. I was going to drive down the west side of Florida and then make a left to Miami. The extra day this would add gave my associates time to get the word out to be on the lookout for me.

  In my possession were the keys to a safe house that would be my base of operations. I also had been gifted with a list of places to frequent and people to talk to. Some of those people were police informants, but none of them knew I was coming. The law enforcement types had told the informants that they wanted to know if anyone with my cover name showed up in south Florida. As far as the stoolies knew I was another bad guy type that the cops wanted information on. With any luck my alter ego’s reputation probably had preceded me into the Sunshine State. I drove south with loud rock and roll coming out of the speakers on the Porsche. My route took me straight down I-75. I spent the night south of Tampa/St. Pete and then rode that same highway into the Miami area.

  I had a custom map of the location of the house I was going to be using. There was no civilian GPS in those days. I played circle the city before I went to the address on my map. Making sure you are not being tailed is not critical. No it is much more important than that. I had gotten off of the interstate several times since leaving the Atlanta area and had roamed around the town before making my way back to the interstate at a different location than I had exited. One nice thing about interstate travel is that unless people are using a large crew to tail you they are rather obvious. I mean if you are getting off of the interstate at random what are the odds of the same one or two cars exiting with you more than once.

  My trip had been roughly timed to put me at the safe house after most people had already made the commute home. People tend to notice strange cars less if they are not in their own car. If you are driving through your neighborhood you notice the car that is unfamiliar. The street was empty of moving vehicles as I turned into the driveway and pressed the remote control for the door for the two car garage. Pulling inside I immediately closed the door behind me. Getting out of the car I got my bag out of the front trunk. The bag was on a strap over my left shoulder as I walked to the doorway into the house.

  My right hand was on the grip of one of my pistols. Using my left hand I keyed open the door and stepped inside. An alarm panel to the right of the door began to blink. The code I entered was a code that sent an all clear to the watchers and left the alarm active. I had committed to memory several codes for various situations. There was a code to use if I came in with unwanted guests, there was a leave me the hell alone code, a few others and then there was one panic code that might even call in an airstrike. The control panel showed all sensors active and the system armed for occupancy which turned off interior motion sensors. I set my bag on the kitchen table and did a walk around of the place. A basic floor plan had been part of the information with the address and directions. This was not a large place. There were three bedrooms, but one of them was basically set up as an office with a phone, fax and computer. The outside doors appeared to be wood but were in reality armored steel. It would take an RPG or explosive charge to open them if they were secured. I knew from the planning meeting that the walls had a double layer woven ballistic curtain in them. This was basically a bulletproof vest for the entire structure. The windows were all of the thickest bullet resistant glass that would not look funny from the outside. Many a witness, defector or whoever had used this place. Only the FBI in DC and the highest levels of the US Marshal’s Protective service knew the address belonged to the government. With the exception of John and one of the FBI agents no one else in this operation knew the address. The surveillance teams watching the place did not know that they were part of my covert op. Their job was just to act as surveillance and security for the safe house. It is called compartmentalization; they were not part of the drug op so they did not know about the drug op. Most, if not all, of the watchers were not even sure that this was a safe house. The ones who thought it was a safe house probably thought that they were babysitting a witness or other protection detail. None of the watchers would work more than a week at a time. We were running this like an intelligence operation in a foreign country. We had compartmentalized out the wazoo. Need to know was rule one. The majority of operators on this one had no idea of the final objective

  I checked all of the locks, double checked that the alarm systems were armed and in the proper mode. After that I carried my bag into the largest of the bedrooms and unpacked. I was traveling fairly light and would buy suitable additional clothes locally. My attire would be much less flashy than most of the people in the drug trade. Flashy draws attention and attention brings unwanted scrutiny. I took a hot shower and then read throu
gh some of the material that I had brought with me. Getting the details of a legend correct is always worth the time involved. The cover identity was as solid as could be made. All the backstopping information was almost perfect. What usually blows a phony identity is not a problem with the legend, but a slip by the operator. Dealing with paranoid drug users getting things wrong would get very dangerous very quickly.

  The next morning I got up and checked the fridge and cabinets to see if I was in anyway stocked with food. There was coffee so the day was not a total loss. Today was going to be a day of exploration and discovery. This was my chance to cruise around, learn streets and make sure that I could find relevant addresses. There was also the matter of groceries and such. I shaved and dressed in comfortable jeans with tennis shoes and topped it with a very colorful Hawaiian shirt. The shirt served two purposes: it would cover my gun and it was nice and loose for the August Florida heat and ease of access should the gun be needed. That bright floral print helped break up any sign of the gun “printing”. Printing is when the outline of the firearm is visible under the cover garment. Patterns and colors make this much less noticeable and that is why the shirt was a medium blue and not white. Darker colors let less show through. I checked the load of my mini revolver and put it into the watch pocket of the jeans.