A Thousand Shadows
Written by Dan McClure
Copyright 2010 Dan McClure
Smashwords Edition
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Foreword
The oldest intelligence organization in the United States, the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) was formed in 1882, 65 years before the CIA was created in 1947. Though George Washington and Benjamin Franklin had employed intelligence operations during the revolutionary years, it was the ONI that became the first permanent intelligence organization in the United States. Started as a select group of highly educated naval officers, ONI operatives were dispatched to spy on the other naval powers and to provide critical information to the US Navy and the US government via the security of the diplomatic pouch. Duty was hazardous and arduous. The results sparked the growth of the US Navy as a global power and established a code of conduct within ONI’s ranks: silent professionals willing and able to undertake the most dangerous missions.
From its start, ONI has been a steward for the growth of the US Navy. In the late 1800’s, the US Navy was emerging as a powerful arm of US power. The ships, and men who sailed them, began to take on a more global mission as the United States broadened its territory across the continent and across the oceans. With ONI’s inception, these US Navy professionals served as spies in foreign ports evaluating the capabilities of potential adversaries. At the beginning of the 20th century, ONI, using that intelligence, enabled the US Navy to win its first major conflict of the new era, the Spanish-American War. Commodore (later Admiral) George Dewey’s defeat of the Spanish Fleet on May 1, 1898 at Manila Bay and his famous call to “Damn the Torpedoes, full steam ahead” has been a refrain for perseverance in the face of danger ever since. That war turned the US Navy and the United States into a global power that must be reckoned with by the other major nations. Fifty years after this war, the United States and its Navy stood alone. The wake of World War II left only one sea power and thus one national power in control. The mighty sea engagements by the US Navy determined the course of the war ONI was the harbinger of many of these naval victories. In the post-World War II period, the US Navy has been the backbone of US national power. ONI continues to excel as the intelligence arm of the US Navy and the US Government. A silent profession, the men and women of ONI continue to achieve victories that go unreported and unheralded. This novel provides an insider view of these professionals as they work day-by-day to achieve advantage for the Navy and the country in a dangerous world.
1800 21NOV PHILIPPINES
Paul had never had a gun pointed at his face. He had been shot at before and he had even shot at a few guys in the not so distant past, but he never had a gun pointed at his face. It was less than three feet away. He could almost reach it if he raised his arm. With a glint from the evening sunset, the black metal of the barrel appeared bluish in the hazing light. He could not see down the barrel which was dark, but he assumed a bullet was in the chamber. The gun was cocked and the owner had his finger on the trigger. A slight squeeze and the hammer would fall, a crack would be heard and fire would surge out of the barrel with the lead projectile spinning clockwise as it emerged from the weapon. The bullet would slam into Paul’s face and kill him, probably before he could wince. Paul always tried to prevent himself from wincing when he got shots at the doctor’s office. It did not seem manly and he never saw his father wince. If he was shot here with a bullet, he would not wince so his father would not have to see his son wincing at the last moment. Paul thought this was good.
But where would the bullet hit him? If it hit his nose, it would probably hurt a lot. Paul broke his nose when he was in Little League, almost two decades ago, because another player swung the bat and hit him smack in the face. The pain was terrible. The nose tends to be a tender spot which his father told him once the blood started to slow down. Ever since that June day, Paul has tried to avoid getting punched in the face during the odd fist fights normal men get into as they grow older. But if a bullet hit his nose, he assumed the pain would be much worse than the bat incident even if he died a split second afterward. Then again, the bullet could also hit him in the eye he conjectured. If so, the wound in the front would be very clean. When the bullet exited his skull out the back, Paul imagined his brains would shoot out too. And because he was standing close to the rail, Paul imagined his brains would fall into the sea below the deck. In some respects, he would have a burial at sea for his cerebral cortex, something every sailor wishes for after spending long nights on watch gazing at the dark ocean waters moving along the line of the hull. And with his brains falling into the water, Paul imagined his body would go limp and he would fall straight down as his knees buckled. His head probably would not hit the floor too badly and his nose would be spared from more damage. So if the bullet went through his eyeball, Paul imagined they probably could give him an open casket. The hole in the back of his head could be fixed up; at least well enough to hide the carnage from the mourners. His eyes would be closed anyway. Paul thought it would be good to have an open casket for his mother. He had not seen her in about a year because of his job and location, but they were close when he was growing up and Paul guessed that the open casket would be good for closure. But his father was standing next to him and for someone to watch their son die in front of them would be quite difficult to view. Paul didn’t want to have his father witness his death. And because Paul and his father were on a covert mission for the US Government, his dad probably couldn’t tell his mom how he really died. Paul thought his dad might not even be able to tell his mom that he was with him at the end. This seemed like too great a burden for any dad to carry. Paul hoped that the bullet wouldn’t exit the barrel in a clockwise rotation spinning toward his nose, his eye or his face in general. But the owner of the gun just kept ranting and pointing the weapon menacingly. Paul blinked to wick the sweat from his eyelashes and he let out a deep breath which comforted him a bit; gave him composure. And as he exhaled, the sweet sting of salt in his eyes reminded him that ten days ago he felt this sensation before in a place miles away physically and figuratively from where he was standing now. It would be nice to live to see that place again.
0730 10NOV HONOLULU
In the middle of the Pacific, the dawn arrived on the beach in Hawaii and the morning waves were crashing on the shore. Out of those waves emerged a young man who trekked up the beach carrying a surfboard. He wore shorts and a rash guard shirt, his hair was bleached from the sun and salt water and his skin was bronze and weathered from the same. He jogged up the sand to the parking lot at the edge, sliding his board into the back of a jeep and fishing a towel out from the gear on the floor. After wiping off the morning sea water from his body, he slid on a khaki shirt and pants with less than a modicum of modesty. On the collar of the shirt was a double silver bar emblem that identified the wearer as a US Navy Lieutenant. The ribbons over the left breast pocket meant the wearer of the uniform had done his duty in the past. The name tag on the right breast pocket said “Bennett.” With all the buttons done, fly zippered, and buckle fastened, the complete package identified this morning surfer as Lieutenant Paul Bennett, a US Navy officer with experience.
Paul threw the towel back onto the floor behind the seat and jumped in and drove the vehicle out of the parking lot. He turned into morning traffic of Honolulu heading in the direction of Pearl Harbor, the major US Navy base in the Pacific and home of his employer, the Office of Naval Intelligence. ONI at Pearl Harbor supports all US military units stretching from the shores of the US West Coast to the border of India and Pakistan: a zone of half of the world’s people and half of the world’s surface area. Monitoring this vast territory and the multiple countries was the small elite crew of naval officers and sailors charged with providing intelligence to Pacific Command’s leadership. Paul was a key member of the team, and despite his surfing attitude, he enjoyed and relished the challenge.
After Paul navigated the morning traffic and passed through the security gate, he negotiated the myriad of roads on the base until he entered a small compound off on its own in a secluded spot with a building, a building with only a few windows. He parked his jeep in last open spot in the parking lot and started walking to the front door. On the steps of the building, Paul saw his boss, Commander Mulligan, waiving his hand with urgency. Commander Mulligan had an identical Navy uniform of khaki pants and shirt, but his uniform had silver oak leaves on his collar to identify his rank as superior to Paul’s and his rows of ribbons were much longer detailing his more extensive warfighting resume than his protégés. But in addition, Commander Mulligan’s uniform was much more sharply creased and fit more precisely on his physique. That the Commander carried a greater amount of the military discipline and ethos than Paul was evident from his uniform. While Paul had the stereotypical blonde hair of a surfer, the Commander was bald, but his head was also highly tanned and his body fit from the daily runs he would take on the beaches in Hawaii.
Commander Mulligan waved to Paul with one hand and held a coffee cup in the other. Paul thought that if the Commander had been waiting there at least long enough to have a cup of coffee, this meant the topic was urgent. Paul picked up his pace and bounded up the steps to the office front door. Commander Mulligan could not hide his annoyance with Paul’s arrival time by his glare and his tone.
“So Paul, how are we feeling today,” said Commander Mulligan.
“Great sir, and you,” said Paul, trying to express some enthusiasm to break the ice.
“I’m fine, thank you,” replied the Commander.
The Commander peered more closely at Paul’s face and asked “Did you shave today.”
“Not yet sir”, said Paul. “I will when I shower and change in the locker room.”
“Make it quick, we have a meeting with the Admiral,” said the Commander.
Paul responded, “Is something going on?” “Did a war start?”
“No, not yet,” the Commander responded. “Clean yourself up and meet me in my office in 20 minutes.” “I want at least ten minutes to go over with you what I know before we see the Admiral.”
“Aye, aye sir,” said Paul, “I will be in your office in twenty minutes.”
The Commander left Paul to head for the showers and departed back to his office on the upper deck. In the Commander’s experience, Paul was always on time which was the mark of a good naval officer. But more importantly for the Commander was that Paul was very good at intelligence work. For Commander Mulligan, that was everything. The Commander did not suffer fools, the very reason Paul was the man he wanted for the assignment. Intelligence was not cookie-cutter and the work demanded a vibrant, inquisitive mind that could master ideas and dissect issues clearly. Paul was definitely one of those rare individuals. The Commander valued Paul as a member of his team.
Paul made it to Commander Mulligan’s office in the time he estimated and knocked on the door. A crisp “enter” was heard from inside and Paul turned the handle and did as the voice commanded. Commander Mulligan was sitting at his desk, reading a stack of papers which he put down when Paul appeared, and gestured for Paul to come in.
“You made it,” said the Commander. “Good.” Come in and sit down.”
Paul took the chair in front of the desk and sat down. His face was clean shaven and he did not reek of salt water, but he had the obvious smell of shampoo emanating from his hair.
“Admiral Sullivan has asked me to identify someone from my staff, who can assist him in a special assignment that has come his way,” said the Commander. “He asked me to name someone who was very good at intelligence analysis, could travel to Asia very quickly and had some background in economics or industry.” “To be specific, he asked for anyone who knew anything about the oil industry.” “I got this request from him late last night in a phone call, and I immediately thought of you.” “Now do you have any issues that we need to discuss before we go in to see the Admiral, or are you onboard?”
Despite the directness of the Commander’s intent to enlist Paul in some task for the Admiral, Paul naturally did not want to jump into dark water without knowing the depth of the pool. He said “Sir, what do I have to do on this assignment?”
“I don’t know,” said the Commander, “but the Admiral is looking for someone, and I am sure he did not call me at 1AM last night, because he could not sleep. Do you have any issues?” the Commander repeated.
“No, Sir” Paul replied. He emphasized the response so Commander Mulligan would hear him loud and clear, but Paul was not enthusiastic about taking on an undefined mission. His analytical talents meant he scrutinized details before he made decisions. However, Paul liked and respected the Commander and he would do his bidding.
“Ok, then let’s go see the Admiral,” the Commander said.
Only a few doors down the hall were Admiral Sullivan’s office. It actually was a suite with a lobby, some potted plants and a couch for visitors, not that ONI received many visitors. And the Admiral’s office also had windows which was unusual in ONI and across the intelligence community. When Paul and the Commander reached the Admiral’s office suite, a Marine guard stood in the lobby and Sheila Warden, the Admiral’s assistant, sat at her desk.
The Commander said to Sheila, “Is the Admiral ready to see us, Sheila?”
“Yes,” said Sheila, “go in.” Sheila never looked up from her computer screen.
The Admiral was sitting at his desk, hunched over a couple of binders. He was large man, and Paul could not tell if he had a neck sometimes. Hunched over Paul thought he looked like an ogre from a picture book that Paul bought for his nephew for his birthday. The Admiral raised his head when the men entered the office, but did not smile. Paul could not remember if he ever saw the Admiral smile.
Admiral Sullivan said, “Good morning gentlemen, please sit down.”
“Thank you sir,” said Commander Mulligan.
Paul did not respond as he wisely thought it was best to have the Commander do most of the talking. Both men sat down in chairs in front of the Admiral’s desk. The Admiral waited for both men to settle in and then he began to speak about the matter that he called the Commander about very late last night.
The Admiral directed his gaze at Paul and said, “Paul I want you to know that Commander Mulligan thinks very highly of you, and thinks you are perfect for a special assignment I need you to undertake.” The Admiral continued, “I was in DC last week and I was cornered by some congressional staffers from Senator Jackson’s office and questioned about the growing Chinese threat in the region. I, of course, continued my standard line that it would be some decades before the Chinese have built up the military capability to threaten us in the Pacific. Nevertheless, the economics of China is another issue, and one that most military analysts can’t get their head around; present company included. One of the hot button issues is the whole energy area, and I need someone to focus on this topic and be able to give me sound analysis.”
Paul noticed that he stressed the word “sound.” Paul was well aware that most analysts at ONI-Pearl Harbor usually got chewed out by the Admiral over what he would consider “unsound” analysis.
The Admiral continued, “I am not sure if you read the Wall Street Journal, but recently a Chinese oil company tried to buy a US oil company. In addition to this, they outbid another US oil company in the process. As you can probably guess, these US oil companies have a lot of clout on the Hill and the entire issue has been front page news on the mainland. Now I am all for free trade, but people in Washington and on main street America don’t like it when a Chinese company can buy a US oil company and suddenly we have more imported oil. That is the issue in a nutshell, and ONI needs an opinion on this. I would rather have my analysts work on military issues, but the economy of China is not going away, and the Chinese need to procure more and more energy assets will only follow. Consequently, I need to understand this issue completely, and Commander Mulligan suggested that you would be the right officer to take point.”
Paul listened to the Admiral’s comments and directions calmly, but the words “take point” resonated with him the most. In basic military movements, “taking point” was never the envied position.
“Thank you for your confidence, Admiral,” said Paul, “I assume you would like me to investigate the topic and get back to you by the end of the day.”
“No Paul, I would like you to investigate the topic and by the end of the day, be on a flight to Beijing,” Admiral Sullivan countered. “I can read the paper here and probably learn enough about the topic to be conversant. However, I need to know what the Chinese are up to in the oil business and you can’t learn that from sitting in this building.”
“Sir, most of my career has been in political-military analysis, and I really do not have a background in economics,” replied Paul.
The Admiral interjected, “Commander Mulligan said that you have a bachelor’s degree in Petroleum Engineering from UT Austin, and that your family is in the oil business.”
Paul replied, “Sir, with all due respect when you have an engineering degree from University of Texas, it really can only be in Petroleum Science. And my maternal grandfather was a wildcatter in the 50s and 60s, but I personally do not have much experience in the oil industry.”
“Nevertheless,” the Admiral responded, “I need someone and you have most of the skill sets that are required. Pack your sea bag!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Paul.
“Good,” said the Admiral. “Sheila will arrange your travel plans. Provide daily reports to Commander Mulligan who will keep me informed of your progress. If you run into trouble, contact Commander Mulligan and he will get to me. Thank you for your time gentlemen, dismissed,” said the Admiral.
After Commander Mulligan and Paul left the office and got out of ear shot of the Admiral and Sheila, the Commander asked, “Paul was that enough guidance from the Admiral.”
Paul responded, “Sir other than finding out “what the Chinese are up to,” in the oil business, should I be drafting some kind of report?”
The Commander responded, “My feeling is that the Admiral is not looking for some report. He wants someone to figure out what is going on and be his eyes and ears out there.”
“Out where, Commander?” asked Paul.
“Wherever the trail takes you,” said the Commander. “Just remember to get receipts for your travel voucher.”
“Can you give me anymore guidance than that sir?” asked Paul.
“The Admiral wants you to go to Beijing to start your investigation. I will send a cable to the embassy letting them know that you are in-route and that you are on a special assignment for Admiral Sullivan. I think it is best that you keep the overall nature of your assignment to a need-to-know basis. The US/China relationship is a very delicate subject today. I will let the embassy know that you are on an analyst orientation trip and that you are specifically trying to get a grasp of the economic situation in China. Once you are on the ground, try covertly to discover specifics about the energy area and not draw too much attention.”
Paul responded, “Sir my mission is to gain intelligence without letting my own government know that I am doing it which sounds difficult and possibly illegal.”
“This is not illegal so don’t worry,” said the Commander, “Just do your best.”
“OK,” said Paul. “When should I come back?”
“When the job is done,” said the Commander.
“Sir the whole scenario sounds very open ended,” said Paul. “Are you sure this is the Admiral’s intent?”
“I know the Admiral and he needs help on this issue Your mission is open-ended because your topic as you can guess is very open-ended,” said the Commander.
The Commander then added, “I am going to make a call to a guy I know who is at the station in Beijing.”
Paul realized what the Commander was offering him a CIA contact in Beijing that would be deniable.
“He is an old buddy. We were together for a while in Indonesia.”
Paul knew that the Commander did some risky stuff in Jakarta prior to coming to Hawaii.
The Commander continued, “If he can, he will help you.”
Paul said, “What is his name?”
The Commander replied, “If he can help, he will identify himself to you. Right now, I am not even sure what my buddy is using as a name anyway.”
Paul thought CIA folks must have a hard time figuring out who they were every morning
The Commander added, “I suggest you spend the rest of the day availing yourself of the information in the office to get you up to speed. Connect up with Sheila about your travel reservations, and swing by here before you head out to get any last minute instructions.”
“Roger that, sir,” Paul replied as he stood up and left the Commander’s office.
Paul went to his cubicle and turned on his computer to start doing the research. Despite the abruptness of the tasking, Paul enjoyed new discoveries and this whole issue was very new to him. The rest of Paul’s day was spent doing studying the Chinese oil companies to get some understanding of who the players were. Prior to the Admiral’s mentioning the company in their meeting this morning, Paul did not really know anything about these companies. The specific one that the Admiral was referring to, and the one that seems to have upset so many people back in Washington, was the Chinese International Oil Company or CIOC by its acronym. From the general information that Paul could acquire, CIOC was formed in the late 90’s from certain assets that the Chinese government owned in the international oil space. The company’s mission was to explore for oil outside of China. CIOC’s management was led by a Chinese national who had been educated in United States. Under his leadership for the last decade, CIOC had aggressively expanded its portfolio. There were reports of CIOC’s activities in areas of the world that the US Government viewed as threatening (Iran, Sudan, Libya, etc). Paul was getting the impression that CIOC was going places that most US Oil companies could not operate.
In addition to these no-go areas, CIOC also had targeted US assets and companies which most likely meant that they had overstepped their bounds according to US businessmen and policymakers on the Hill. Despite CIOC’s failed attempt to acquire the US company, the damage had been done and people were taking notice, and taking sides. The Chinese scramble for energy had become the talk of the weekend commentators and everyone seemed to have an opinion on the topic. Paul found a number of YouTube videos of congressmen berating the administration for being soft on the Chinese and letting them steal US oil. Paul could see that the issue provoked passion and he expected the Admiral was under a lot of pressure from both sides of the debate. This was a worthy topic and Paul felt he needed to get up to speed quickly.
Paul finished his overview analysis and decided to check in with Sheila about his travel arrangements. Sheila had made the arrangements for his flight to Beijing and his accommodations and had prepared a small folder with the details. Paul swung by, picked it up, and thanked her for her efficiency. She responded that it was very easy because she did the Admiral’s travel arrangements all the time and she had merely inserted Paul’s name into an old itinerary for the Admiral. Paul picked up the folder, said goodbye to the Commander and left ONI around 1500 to head home. On his way, he swung by the beach to catch a last set. He guessed that there would be very little surfing where he was going and the waters would be refreshing before beginning his mission.
After getting his gear from home, Paul went to the airport and boarded the last flight out for the evening. While he was waiting to board, he bought a book on China. It was one of those many books that predicted China would overtake the United States in the not so distant future. He skimmed it as he started his flight. But his mind drifted from the pages as he watched the clouds flow by and the lights of Oahu grow faint behind him. Once the plane got to altitude, the stewardesses shut off the main cabin lights and he was one of the few passengers with his light on trying to read. Everyone else tried to get some sleep. Paul looked around and decided he did not need to read this book too closely as it seemed very unbalanced. He asked for a drink and got a rum and tonic to relax. The stewardess delivered the drink, and Paul sipped the glass and turned off his light. The light at the end of the wing illuminated the outside a bit and Paul stared out and nursed his drink. The loneliness of the moment hung on him. He was headed off into the great unknown, but his thoughts were taking him back. He closed his eyes when he finished the drink and his mind drifted away from his future and into his past.
Living in the moment had been Paul’s normal way of living his life since he moved to Hawaii a few years ago. With everyday being the same, meaning the weather, and every day being nice, again meaning the weather, Hawaii was a good place to live in the present. But Paul also had an interesting past that Admiral Sullivan alluded to in their morning meeting. Paul did have some affiliation with the oil business from the maternal side of the family. But Paul did not mention that his family history was also hardcore US military. Paul’s military lineage started with his paternal grandfather.
Paul’s grandfather served in the Marine Corps during World War II. He hit most of the beaches in the Pacific during MacArthur’s campaign from Australia to Okinawa. In fact, Paul could look at the map in the back of the United Airlines magazine and see a lot of the places that his grandfather fought to capture from Japanese occupation. One place stood out as Paul identified the major island groupings that he would pass over in his flight. Iwo Jima was clearly identified and Paul guessed that his grandfather would be amazed to think that his grandson would be flying over that same beach a half century later. Paul’s grandfather had to crawl up Mt Suribachi for days on his belly as he fought the Japanese for inches of the volcanic rock. It was too bad that Paul never got to meet his grandfather. Before Paul was born, his grandfather had died while sitting on a park bench on the Capital Mall watching one of his older grandsons take his first step.
Paul’s grandfather was a beacon for his sons urging them to serve as he had. All three eventually went to Annapolis and became Marine Corps officers. Each also served in the war that turned the tide for the United States as a military power, Vietnam. Paul’s oldest uncle died there in the jungle, and his body was only partially recovered and returned to the United States. This end dramatically affected Paul’s father, George Bennett. To lose an older brother is tragic for most people, but for George it was devastating. They were close, as in most military families with the father gone for months at time, young boys look for role models. George’s older brother was his role model. Despite his loss, George soldiered on, and graduated near the top of his class at Annapolis. This achievement was unusual as the Bennett family was not known for getting good grades. They were known for their speed and their size. On the football field, they tended to be fullbacks, trucks that run over people.
And soon after graduation George Bennett went to war himself in Southeast Asia, and distinguished himself for bravery. To some degree, Paul felt, that his father stayed in the military to preserve his brother’s memory. If he continued to fight for his country, then in some way, his brother’s death was not in vain. George Bennett never really spoke about his motivation to continue to serve. Paul just sensed the reason, and Paul never thought he should ask questions. Sometimes it is very hard to talk to your father.
With Vietnam behind him and the early experiences in combat, George Bennett continued to serve and to distinguish himself in all the wars that the US fought. He led troops in combat in Grenada, Panama, Iraq, Somalia Bosnia, and Kosovo. In between these wars, George Bennett seemed to pop up in all sorts of places that the US Government would never acknowledge. Paul’s family did not see him much during those years. A postcard would arrive sometimes. Because of his focus on his career and zeal for service, George Bennett achieved what many consider a huge honor. George was promoted to Brigadier General a few years ago and assigned the prestigious position of Deputy National Security Advisor in the White House. This is the position that Colin Powell held before his career really started to take off. Rumor has it that George Bennett will get the top job someday, but being at that level is a very different story.
As George Bennett rose to the top, he increasingly created distance between himself and his family. George Bennett’s family life was one wife (Carol), one daughter (Stephanie), and twin sons (Peter and Paul). Paul was the eldest child, but only by seven minutes. He was named after George’s brother who died in Vietnam. George asked for this name and Carol acquiesced even though she wanted her sons to be a celebration of life and not be a memory of a lost one. The family moved around a lot as most military families do which can create strong internal bonds. Carol did her best to keep the family together under these stresses. She was a lioness always protecting her cubs.
The Bennett’s spent a few years in DC when George worked at the Pentagon. Paul was young then and every Memorial Day, when most kids went with their fathers to baseball games, George would take his children to the National Cemetery in Alexandria. They would visit their Uncle Paul’s grave. The kids did not understand till they were older the depth of their father’s love for his lost brother.
But day-to-day, Carol was the rock of Paul’s life. He got her blonde hair and blue eyes, and her casual smile that crooked up at the corner. He also got most of his upbringing from her as she was there every day of his life until he went to college. She held him on Christmas when he cried because Santa did not bring his father home as a gift under the tree. She pitched to him so he could improve his hitting skills and make the baseball team when he was in middle school. She tied his bow tie when he was going to his school prom. Carol did for family because that was all she ever wanted. She loved George Bennett. He was dashing in his uniform and had a depth that she had never felt in any other man. She married him before he shipped off for Vietnam after a short courtship. She did not think it was good idea, but she had never met anyone like him before. When he was in Vietnam, she waited alone for him to return. It was the loneliest year she had ever experienced not knowing if he was alive or dead at any moment. So when he returned, they attempted to start a family. It took a while, but eventually the twins were born and Carol had found her calling. She adored being a mother and raising her children. And when Stephanie, was born, Carol finally had her little princess to offset the gang of Bennett boys that trashed through the house with muddy cleats every Saturday. With her lion away, Carol pulled her cubs tighter.
When George was gone for extended periods, Carol would take the brood back to her parent’s ranch on the outskirts of Dallas. Paul’s maternal grandfather Jessie McClarran was an affable man who would take his grandkids out and about with him as he surveyed his property. The Bennett kids loved their time on the ranch. It was this reason that Paul decided to go to UT because he only ever felt home in the backcountry of Texas.
Despite a growing estrangement because of their time apart, Paul had a great respect for his father. If his mother was the center of the family, the foundation, Paul’s father was the family’s North Star. Each of the kids saw in him a leader, a man of purpose, of direction, a man who challenges himself and serves, But it is difficult to reach a star and each of the kids took on that vision in their own way. Paul joined the military, but he did not go to Annapolis. He entered the Navy through a military scholarship from UT Austin. Paul’s siblings took other routes. Peter became a lawyer and lives in DC with his wife and their 1 year old son, Jessie. Stephanie is a doctor who now works long hours as an intern in New York hospital. Carol wonders if she will ever get married. Her little princess works too much. Throughout all their career decisions, the Bennett kids never heard a word of encouragement from their father. Most parents would love to have their children as doctors or lawyers, but the kids sensed that George disapproved silently. He served as his father had served and as his brother had served (and died). For George, the Marine Corps was not a career, it was a vocation.
Paul’s choice to accept a military scholarship and head to UT Austin helped him escape this awkward silence he felt at home. And with his father being an up and coming Marine officer, getting a Navy scholarship was not too difficult. When he arrived at Austin, Paul felt immediately at home. As a military brat, Paul had moved many times and never stayed in one place long enough to make a lot of good friends. But college freed him from that vagabond lifestyle. He lived with the same group of guys for four years. He studied petroleum engineering because he had to study some engineering for his military scholarship and petroleum engineering sounded interesting because petroleum engineers travel the globe exploring for oil. At the end of his four years, Paul was commissioned an officer in the Navy. Paul chose Naval Intelligence as his career path because it demanded the smartest from the officer corps. ONI usually had the pick of the litter every year. For some, ONI was a vocation.
In addition to some engineering, Paul learned to surf at UT Austin. He would travel with his selection of fraternity brothers down to South Padre Island. Usually they would leave sometime in the middle of the night and arrive by dawn at the beach. They would surf Saturday and Sunday, sleeping in a tent over night, and arrive back on campus before class on Monday. Paul’s best friend was Kevin Sykes, another fraternity brother and fellow military brat. Kevin was a surfer from Southern Cal whose father was a Navy pilot based in San Diego. Kevin taught Paul how to surf and Paul ensured Kevin kept his GPA up enough to maintain his military scholarship. They were commissioned on the same day; Paul a few minutes before Kevin because he had a higher grades. Despite his surfer background, Kevin was not very laidback about the military. He wanted to lead troops into combat and as a Navy SEAL he got his chance in Iraq. Now Paul gets postcards from Kevin from exotic locations in Southeast Asia mostly. Last word he got from Kevin was that he and his team was headed to the Philippines to fight the terrorists over there. Kevin put a postscript on the card that he hoped to do some surfing. Paul has the card on his fridge in his condo. Those are the little things that keep the bonds of brotherhood going despite the miles between them. Paul picked the card of the fridge before he left the apartment and read it again. He thought the Philippines are not far from China so maybe he and his buddy could meet up for a day. It would be fun even if the idea seemed remote.
0300 11NOV PHILIPPINES
The men were in place, lying prone on the ground with their weapons pointing out into the dark jungle around them. The ten individuals were members of a Navy SEAL team, a long way from home, conducting a mission that very few would even hear about or the US government would acknowledge. The men formed a 360 degree perimeter, a geometric pattern on the ground that provided a circle of safety with each buddy team manning a designated position to scan and defend. Lying amongst the low coastal vegetation, the men practically disappeared as their uniforms resembled the deep green hue of the jungle foliage and their faces were blackened to mute their pale skin coloring in the darkness. Their only features that stood out were the whiteness of their eyes, a sure sign of their foreignness in this part of the world. Below them, the ground was carpeted with a mixture of sand, small thorn bushes and broken coconut shells, creating a very uncomfortable spot to wait for any length of time. Yet the men remained stoic in their positions despite their lack of comfort and their fatigue due to the lateness of the hour. Navy SEALs are trained well. No one spoke or moved. They kept watch on the darkness in front of them, looking and listening for danger. This was Indian country for these men and they were very much on their own on this southern island in the Philippines archipelago, a hot bed for Muslim extremism and a front on the war on terrorism.
The man at the center of the circle was the team leader, call sign “Silver”. He leaned up a bit on his elbows and scanned the area of water just beyond the beach with a pair of night vision goggles, looking for boats quietly gliding over the surface. Silver was the team leader, but his role reflected his status as an officer, not his level of experience. In fact, Silver was one of the younger members of the team and this mission was one of only a dozen in his history when he had to lock and load real bullets into his carbine. Most of the rest of his crew were very experienced in combat and had served already multiple missions in Iraq and Afghanistan. The team’s most senior enlisted guy and the second in command had almost a decade on Silver in age. His call sign was “Friday” and he huddled next to Silver at the center of the circle and provided the experience that the team needed. The two leaders discussed their options.
“You sure this is the right spot,” Silver said.
“Yeah, I am sure,” replied Friday, “My source has always been accurate.”
“So where are these guys supposed to come from?” said Silver.
Friday pointed out at the waves slowly cresting on the sand. “Two of those oversized outriggers will meet up in the shallow waters approximately 100 meters out. They will transfer the weapons from the bigger boat to the smaller boat and both will then head away in opposite directions. Transfers usually take 15 to 20 minutes depending on the amount of guns. Usually there are four guys with two on each boat.”
“Ok,” Silver said, “we will just watch this time. If we can do more, I will make the call. Pass to the guys to turn toward sea if I start shooting. The guys at six o’clock stay on security with weapons to our rear.”
“Roger that,” replied Friday, and he proceeded to crawl to each of the positions and pass the commander’s orders.
Just after 0400, Silver spotted a small boat that appeared from the southwest and moved along the coast approximately 200 meters offshore. It stopped its engines in front of the team’s position and floated on the calm shallow seas. Silver watched and waited for the second boat, but none appeared.
Eventually the boat drifted closer to the shore and one guy on board jumped into the waist deep water and waded up to the beach. Silver slowly moved his body closer to the ground so he was less visible. The intruder was dressed in shorts and T-shirt, similar to a kid in America at a community pool. Silver could see through his night-vision goggles what looked like Michael Jackson’s face on the intruder’s shirt. Friday whispered that he had the same shirt when he was growing up. Silver replied that it probably was the exact same shirt.
Michael Jackson exited the water, walked up to the high water mark, pulled his shorts down and squatted. As the intruder defecated in obvious pain from a malady that afflicted most who spend too much time in the jungle, Silver could see the second boat as it appeared on the water. Michael Jackson saw it too and waved to his partner who started the engine and headed the boat into the beach. However the boat hit bottom ten meters out. Meanwhile the second boat moved along the coast from a different direction. As it got closer, Silver could see the guys onboard pointing at the beached boat, and their driver turned his vessel into the shore.
When the second boat hit the shallow bottom, its engines stopped and everything was very quiet again except for the waves against the sides of the hulls. The two parties onboard began to exchange words, but it was difficult for Silver to hear everything, and he didn’t recognize the exact Filipino dialect that was being used. But because of the velocity and tempo of the exchange, Silver could tell that the groups were annoyed with each other. The squabbling between the two parties subsided and crates were transferred from the second boat to Michael Jackson’s boat. It took approximately twenty minutes for the switch to occur according to Silver’s watch.
Once the transfer of the crates was completed, the two parties waved goodbye fairly hurriedly, and the second boat started its engines and reversed out of its position. After it swung around, it headed back in the direction from which it came. But Michael Jackson’s boat did not follow. He had jumped into the water again and proceeded to relieve himself for a second time in the course of an hour. Silver watched as the king of pop fan did not even make it to the beach, but instead held onto the side of his boat and did what he could in his desperate agony. Silver winced at the sight and Friday whispered that he could feel his pain. Michael Jackson’s partner started the engine and positioned the throttle in reverse, but the boat did not move. He yelled to his suffering companion to hold on, and he tried reverse again, but this time at full-speed. The engine whirred, but the boat did not budge. Silver whispered that the weight of the weapons must have made the boat too heavy on the bottom, and with the tide going out, their dilemma was only getting worse. Silver thought this was the moment for the team to engage.
Silver stood up and used a tree as cover. He then yelled in Filipino for the two guys to raise their arms and disembark. But both men jumped down into the bottom of the boat and grabbed weapons that were stashed below the floorboards. They then popped up and started to shoot wildly at the jungle in the direction of Silver’s voice. Now with the rules of engagement clear, Silver gave the command. His teammates quickly engaged their targets. Michael Jackson took a bullet in his face and his partner caught two in the chest. The battle was over in seconds. Silver called to his men, “Give me an up.” Each man signaled “up” and Friday closed the loop with the words, “Friday up.”
With the all clear, Silver directed his men to take their prize and the team moved down to the stranded boat and moved the weapons up to the beach by using a human chain to carry the crates. Friday and Silver kept watch and the men did the work in few minutes. One team member produced explosives from his pack and set charges on the crates. The rest of the guys pushed their newly acquired vessel to free it from its beached position. Friday climbed aboard and manned the helm. Once the boat was free, Friday started the engine and signaled Silver. Silver turned to his demolition guy who set the fuse. He then ran by Silver and climbed aboard the boat with the rest of the team. Silver took one last look around and then ran into water and the men pulled him aboard. Friday reversed the boat, swung it around when they were in deeper water and headed out to sea. All the men kept looking back at the beach. The demo guy had his eyes on his watch and at 0432, Jack said “boom”. He missed it by seconds and the crates on the beach exploded and lit up the area. Silver smiled and gestured to Friday to speed up.
Friday said to Silver, “Where are we headed?”
Silver said, “Let’s take this thing back to our camp. It is better than walking all the way back. Have everyone stay low. It should only take a few hours.”
The men removed their heavy gear and lay down on the bottom of the boat. Without any rest for the last few days, most of the men fell asleep in minutes. As the guys were getting comfortable, Silver sat back and started to relax. Friday sat down next to him.
Friday said, “Do you know what was weird about that?”
Silver replied, “Nope, other than the fact that we got ourselves a new fishing boat.”
Friday continued, “No what I meant was I think the guys who were delivering the weapons were speaking Chinese. You know Chinese is my second language.”
Silver replied, “I was wondering what they were saying. It did not sound like Filipino to me. Are you sure?”
Friday replied, “Yeah, I am sure.” “When you learn a language in the Navy, they always teach you the curse words first, and those guys were pretty pissed at the guys we killed. I imagine they didn’t want to be that close to land.”
Silver said, “Ok, let’s put that info in the mission report because it might mean something.”
Friday replied, “roger that.”
Friday returned to the stern, and took the wheel. Silver closed his eyes and pushed his hat down over his face to catch some sleep before he had to take the next watch.
1600 11NOV BEIJING
The plane landed in Beijing by mid-afternoon the next day and Paul was very tired from the jet lag. Before this trip to mainland China, Paul had only been to Hong Kong and this was during the transfer of power in 1997. As a history buff, Paul thought to witness a change in power would be unmatched event. He remembers Hong Kong as a city of revelry. But Beijing was a different site for Paul. The city has long wide boulevards that give the buildings a very austere façade. It was also choked by pollution with low hanging smog sitting on the city. And the weather was much colder than Hawaii and Paul only had a thick sweater in his bag. He ran to the cab as he exited the airport terminal and showed the driver the name of his hotel from the travel itinerary that Sheila gave him. Paul pointed at the name on the sheet, but the driver did not read English. After some hand gestures and garbled English words, Paul seemed to get across the name of the hotel and the driver acted like he knew what Paul was saying. The taxi took off and Paul slumped into the back seat.
It took an hour for the cab to reach the hotel and Paul spent most of the trip holding the hand strap which hung above the door to prevent sliding onto the floor as the driver swerved in and out of Paul found himself in front of the Peninsula Hotel. Paul pulled himself forward in the seat and looked at the hotel’s façade through the window. It was magnificent. He made a mental note to thank Sheila when he got back to ONI. The doorman helped Paul pay the driver the right amount of Chinese currency, and escorted Paul into the lobby. The din of the city evaporated as he walked into the sanctuary. Luxury stores lined the periphery of the lobby and the hotel staff seemed welcoming and dressed in clean, neat apparel. Paul could see that there was a huge difference between” the have’s and the have not’s” in this country. By the time Paul reached the front desk, the surroundings had refreshed his fatigue. The doorman left Paul and his bag at the front desk and Paul gave him a small tip and smile.
“Good afternoon sir,” the person behind the counter said to Paul. “Will you be staying with us?”
“Yes,” Paul replied.
The woman continued, “May I see your passport.”
“Of course,” answered Paul and he pulled it out of his pocket and placed in on the counter for the woman.
The woman flipped the pages, read the name, and looked on the computer screen for the match.
“Mr. Bennett, your reservation has you staying with us for a month, is this correct?”
“I guess so,” Paul responded.
“Are you here on business?” said the woman.
Paul not used to lying, almost said no, but he stumbled through with a “Yes, I am.” Paul then thought that he needed to develop some cover story that would satisfy the average questioner. He quickly added, “I am an oil consultant.”
“Very interesting work,” the woman said with a smile. “How many keys will you need?”
“Only one,” Paul responded. He took the key and headed to his room.
When Paul got to his room, he took a quick shower and put on a fresh shirt. He then headed to the hotel bar to grab some food and unwind after his journey. The lounge was on 20th floor and offered some great views of the city. He negotiated a small table by the window from the hostess and he settled in for a snack and possibly a beer. Paul scanned the menu, ordered a beer and a hamburger and gazed around at the other occupants. Looking around the room, he noticed a number of Westerners, and a lot of Asians. All the patrons seemed to be men in business suits, except for a few women who might be prostitutes. Paul avoided making eye contact with any of the women to ensure he was not approached. His food arrived and his drink and he focused on these objects and quickly ordered another beer.
The food and beers calmed him and he started to relax and enjoy his surroundings. He stared out the window at the city lights and watched as the sun set on the horizon. But after viewing the landscape in its many incantations for several hours, he needed something new to look at and he turned back to the crowd. Most of the people were gathered in small groups except one guy at the bar and Paul sized him up as another guy who was alone in this city and didn’t want to drink in his room by myself. At least if you were in a public place, it did not seem wrong. The guy was in his late forties, dressed in a grey suit, and sitting at the bar with what looks like a scotch on the rocks in front of him. The guy’s eyes caught Paul’s and they had a moment of awareness between them. Paul averted his eyes, but the guy got up and started walking over to Paul anyway. Paul peripherally could see the guy coming closer so Paul picked up the book that he brought along and had yet open, and turned to its middle. The man did not get the hint and kept walking toward Paul.
The stranger said, “so are you just in from the states.”
Paul tried to be polite and not brush the guy off too harshly. “Yes, I am,” said Paul.
“Are you alone?” the stranger continued.
Paul tried again to give a good answer, but he was not good at lying. Paul started to say, “well I am sort of…..”
Then the stranger cut him off and said, “good, I will join you.” The stranger sat down in the opposite chair and proceeded to introduce himself. “My name is Allan Kendall. I work for the US Chamber of Commerce over here. I am always looking for new businessmen in Beijing who are helping drive this economy into the 21st century.” Allan extended his hand across the table.
Paul shook his hand and responded, “hi I am Paul Bennett.”
“So what do you do, Paul Bennett?”
Paul replied, “I am an oil consultant.”
“Really,” Allan said in a drawn out fashion. “The oil business in China is booming today. I bet you are pretty busy.”
“Seems like,” Paul said as he tried to return to the act of reading.
Allan followed up with another question, “so what company do you work for?”
Paul was put on the spot, and this guy seemed quite inquisitive and probably knows a number of people in the business. Instead of saying some large oil major, Paul said the only company he knew that Allan Kendall would not know anyone at. “McClarren Oil,” responded Paul.
“Really,” Allan responded again in a drawn out fashion. “I never heard of that outfit,” Allan said. “Where are you guys out of?”
Paul again had to answer more questions that he didn’t really have good answers for yet. “We are just outside of Dallas,” said Paul.
“Ok,” Allan responded, seeming to accept the possibility that he didn’t know every oil company in town. “So what are you guys doing in town, going after some large offshore oil field that nobody knows about yet? You the one who has to talk the Chinese into letting your company drill in their waters?” Allan continued. “How is your Chinese? If it is not good, you are going to need to hire an interpreter. I can suggest a few companies. That’s my job. To help you oil consultants get what you need. Do you understand, Paul?”