COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN by Joe Bergeron (best beach reads txt) 📕

on
three pieces of paper.
He was never more sure of it, never more
certain he could take the power in The Laws and
channel it to fix a lot of things that were wrong.
Abe’s Bar and Grill was a favorite for locals,
the Claire’s and the Henry’s who kept the wheels of
democracy turning every day. It wasn’t in their job
descriptions to make the big decisions that are a
necessary component of every government. But without
the keystrokes on their keyboards that entered data
into a mountain of computers, absolutely nothing would
get done.
The analyst had chosen a bar stool smack in
the middle of Abe’s.
There were two baseball games on the bank of
TV’s at the top of the bar. He didn’t care who was
playing. He was concentrating on the
pitcher-batter confrontations taking place in each game.
Simultaneously, he concentrated on Decision
and Game Theory.
He knew that the subsequent and consequent
result of action was reaction.
258
He also knew that he was about to be
confronted with many variables and components of
individual subject matter, and that, within each of these
situations decision problems would arise. He knew he
would be faced with his own alternative actions and the
uncertainty regarding the consequences of either all, or
some of these actions.
When it became necessary to take action, he’d
need to know which one to utilize based on what was
most rational relative to the information available.
He’d assign probabilities to the occurrence of the
consequences of each action, estimate utilities such as
safety, detection and fulfillment associated with each
consequence, and he’d select as most rational, the
action with the maximum expected utility.
In most instances, all of this would need to be
done within seconds, and this metaphysician and
analyst had the capability to do it.
Michael Courtney was not a student of the
conservative philosophical concept of the ‘Minimax
Principle’ which recommended choices of action that
had as their outcome a consequence which was better
than the worst consequence of any alternative action.
Courtney felt this theory might work well in ‘Zero Sum
Games’ in which one’s opponents were rational - but not
here - not now.
There were lies, duplicity, and deceit to deal
with. He considered himself a game participant, with
other players having interests either parallel to, or
opposed to his own, and some players with parallel
interests had formed coalitions. There would be friends
and enemies, and some of both disguised as the other.
He needed a real friend. He’d thought he had
it in Kay, but now he didn’t know if he trusted her.
Robert was a liar. He had been deceived by his old
professor.
259
The man with whom he’d had the least contact
during his ten years with Yankee Echo, but with whom
he’d early-on formed an alliance of integrity, was a
walking, breathing piece of philosophy out of the South.
He’d return to the hotel, contact Andy St.
Croix, and begin to implement the contingencies he’d
worked out.
Yankee Echo was an organization controlled by
interests too big, and too powerful.
It had to be stopped, and he had to bring that
to resolution.
Picking up the ten dollar bill on the bar, he left
the loose change and two ones for a tip.
Outside Abe’s he hailed a cab, having left the
Jeep at JGM. Conveniently, there was one waiting two
spaces from the entrance.
He couldn’t know it, but the driver had refused
several fares before accepting his. A forty-ish, well
groomed man, he acknowledged Courtney’s destination
and swung the yellow, fuel-injected, turbocharged
Chevy into Washington’s traffic.
The driver’s permit card identified him as
Timothy Metcaff.
Inside ’The Company’ he was known as ‘The
Wanderer’ by his peers, a nickname given to him
because of the many world-wide assignments he’d
covered.
Beneath his jacket in a shoulder holster, was a
Browning 9-mm automatic pistol ready to come to life,
should it be required, in defense of the metaphysician
It would not.
The Wanderer would have only one fare this
evening.
260
Chapter 10
Decision Theory - Game Theory
Friday, May 26, 8:04 p.m.
Both the CIA and the FBI can post operatives
in just about any position they want - in any industry,
in any sociological format or venue, and at any level.
Disguises are unlimited - wardrobe consultants,
cosmeticians, and even pet groomers are all available to
both organizations within a moment’s notice. If
regional accents are a required part of speech, they can
both produce the necessary trained personnel for the
task
It’s a necessary component of surveillance at
which both organizations excel.
Posing as an evening clerk, she recognized him
from the photo given her by Scott Orefice. She had, in
fact been waiting for him to appear.
Courtney, now passing just fifteen feet from the
registration desk, was the subject of her alert.
“Mister Courtney, I have a message for you.”
Walking to the counter, he accepted the
envelope with his name on it.
The woman approximately his age with
shoulder length, straight, jet black hair who handed it
to him didn’t engage him in any conversation save what
she’d already expressed during the courtesy of delivery.
Elizabeth Hendricks could see he was intense.
A seriousness on his face reflecting strong emotions.
He’d never noticed her before, and he wondered
how she knew him on sight.
Almost as quickly as that thought came to
mind, he provided for its dismissal:
‘What the fuck - it’s probably Eisenberg’s
girlfriend. I’ll deal with it later.’
261
He recognized Kay’s writing.
It was always neat, but never pretty.
Now in the suite, he un-creased her handwritten
tri-folded sheet.
The letter wasn’t long, but it was long enough.
Dear Michael,
I’m returning to Connecticut. Please don’t be
concerned for my safety, I’ll be protected.
I never said anything to you about the other
corporations and the CIA simply because I was told it
was a secret for just Dad, Robert, and me. I don’t know
the reasons why they didn’t want you to know, and I’m
sure you’ll want to speak to my Dad about that when
you find him.
I left because I have something to do. Someday
I hope we will be together again, and all of this will be
behind us. I don’t know what you will do with the
organization, but maybe you’ve heard me about it being
manipulative.
You are in my prayers.
I Love You,
Kay
Eyes closed, he sent a crumpled piece of paper
across the room.
Pacing the suite’s parlor, his thoughts rumbled
through Decision Theory. The analyst finally put
together enough presence to elevate Yankee Echo’s plan
to a higher priority status than the thought of a young
woman who’d kept a trust to her father, but had
deceived him.
He’d deal with it later - absolutely.
‘Damn it.’
262
The telephone interrupted his thoughts.
Five rings…he shook his head vigorously.
Running his fingers through his hair as if its
follicles were in his way, he drew a deep breath and
released it.
“This is Michael Courtney.”
“Hey Mick.”
He felt relief, like someone had just saved him
from drowning.
“God, do you have good timing.”
“Say again?”
“Nothing, it’s just good to hear from you. Andy,
are we secure on this line”
“Yes, got the black coder on it.”
“OK, I have some news. I’ve been contacted by
the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
“Orefice?”
“Yes, the President put him on my case after he
got my letter. Who did you have deliver it?”
“Admiral Bruce Turner. We got to know one
another in Nam. Ah gave him a few philosophical
lessons in how to get people to swing a boat around.”
“Andy, Bruce Turner is the Chairman of The
Joint Chiefs of Staff. You know him?”
“Hell, Mick, the guy puts his pants on the same
way we do.”
“No wonder the President saw him. Listen, I
need to tell you some things about the CIA. But what’s
the story in Miami?”
“Ah got us a Zero delegation to visit our
southern neighbor, but ah need a metaphysical
component, the left side of your brain. When can Y’all
get down here?”
“Are you sure you want me to go out with
trained commandos on a rescue mission?”
263
“Hell, Mick, there ain’t no other way to do this.
Do y’all think Belize is just gonna hand over Pat
because I quote him Law Five. There’s gonna be
decisions to be made, and you have to make those.”
He was resolute, he’d be there.
“There’s also something else I have to tell you.
It’s about Pat.”
“What about him?”
“He’s lied to you and me. So have Robert and
Kay.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll catch a flight out tomorrow, can you pick
me up at the airport?”
“Sure thing, buddy. There’s a Delta eight
o’clock out of Dulles. Ah’ll meet you…Mick…You OK.”
“No…I will be - yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to
work on strategy.”
“Michael” - it was the first time he’d ever used
his proper forename.”
It felt like his father had addressed him.
“Yes?”
“Let it go with Kathleen. If it’s real, it will be
there for both of you.”
Simple philosophy from an insightful man.
“Thank you, Andy……I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Phones disconnected.
He picked up the letter ball from the floor and
carefully unraveled its awkward geometric shape.
Refolding it in half three times, he delivered it to his
right pocket - a first step toward reconciliation.
He also mentally traced the letter to its
deliverer.
Black hair, brown eyes, five foot five or six,
appealing smile - he’d never seen her before - how did
she know who he was?
‘Be careful, Courtney.’
264
He was hungry, in fact, he’d hardly eaten all
day. Deciding to have something sent up, he located the
Hotel’s plastic laminated phone directory next to the
phone. Finding the appropriate extension, he dialed
room service.
His call was automatically forwarded to the
front desk, specifically to the phone system closest to
Liz Hendricks. She noticed the call coming in. It was
out of sequence on the roll-over lines.
She knew who was calling.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, this is Mister Courtney in the McKenzie
suite. I’d like to have dinner delivered.
“Do you have a room menu, Mister Courtney?”
“Actually, I know what I’d like to order.”
“What can we get for you this evening?”
“A prime rib, medium rare, baked potato with
sour cream, and a large pot of coffee, no sugars, but
some extra creamers, please.”
“Very well, that will be about thirty minutes.
We’re short of room service help this evening, so I’ll
send this up from the front desk. There won’t be any
need for a gratuity, Mister Courtney.”
“OK, thanks for your help.”
Placing the order through the hotel’s phone
system directly into the kitchen of its best restaurant,
she requested front desk attention five minutes before
delivery. “This is a special guest, management will
deliver the meal.”
Replacing the receiver, she retrieved a small
notebook from her pocketbook. On page one, in code,
were his five numbers; office direct line, mobile,
portable cellular, home, and aircraft.
Liz Hendricks glanced at her watch, CIA issue
- he’d said he would be at the office until eight thirty.
All his lines were secure from any outside trunk.
Dialing the number, it ring twice, she then
pressed star-six-two-three.
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“Scott Orefice.”
“Mister Orefice, he’s having dinner sent up to
him. I’ll deliver it.”
“Good, as we discussed, Liz, the President
wants to see him on Monday. Can you set it up?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Liz, Courtney and St. Croix are planning
something for Cuba soon. Just be aware of that, and
remember everything else you’ve learned about him.”
“Yes, Sir, I will. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“I’ll be mobile until nine thirty, then you can
reach me at home. Call me