Chapter 19

Two weeks later, Devon was summoned to her commander’s office. “Have a seat, lieutenant,” Colonel Brinkman waved his hand toward a brown leather chair in front of his wide cherry wood desk. He moved behind it and eased his large frame into the high back leather chair, leaning back and smiling briefly at her.

“Thank you, sir.” Devon sat upright, her back not touching the chair. She was a bit uncertain about the reason for the urgent meeting he had called, and she had expected a group setting, not a private conference.

As if reading her mind, he spoke, “I’ll get right to the point.”

She nodded, holding his gaze steadily while fighting her rising anxiety and waited for what he had to say.

He picked up a folder on the desk and held it out to her, “I’ve only seen this type of thing happen once or twice in my career, Devon, so I want you to appreciate what you’ve accomplished.”

Devon opened the folder and read the inside sheet, which was a transfer order with her name at the top. Her heart lurched. She felt instantly a little sick, wondering if she had pushed too far and was getting packed off to some shithole assignment.

Reading the apprehension on her face, her commander quickly reassured her, “Lieutenant, this is a very good thing.” Smiling at her he continued, “Your intelligence and hard work paid off, Devon. Congratulations, you have been assigned to the ISA.”

“ISA? I don’t understand, colonel.”

“The Army’s Intelligence Support Activity. I don’t pretend to know everything they do, but they are a newly formed unit, still under the intelligence command of NSA. One of their missions right now is monitoring the peacekeeping operations in Lebanon. Since you have come up with some innovative thinking on operational matters, along with your educational background, it appears that you have the right stuff.” He rose to shake her hand across the desk.

“Thank you, sir.” She couldn’t keep the astonishment from her voice. “I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“Oh, you’ve already accomplished that, lieutenant. That’s why you were chosen for this assignment. You are going to do fine.”

Devon stood to return the handshake. The colonel concluded their meeting by handing her a sealed envelope stamped with the words ‘Top Secret Optimize Talent’ stamped in red letters across the seal. “This dossier will provide you with the background information that you need for your new assignment, lieutenant.” He smiled affectionately, “A little light reading for your flight. Good luck, Devon.”

Chapter 20

Beirut, Lebanon August 1983

First Lieutenant James stepped from the C130 military transport plane onto the tarmac of the airfield. A hot breeze blew clouds of sand through the air and she lowered her head and squinted trying to keep it from getting into her eyes. She was greeted by a sergeant who snapped a firm salute as she approached the small caravan of military vehicles about two hundred yards from the planes. Returning the salute, Devon extended her hand to the man who she judged to be in his late twenties and he grasped her hand firmly.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Sergeant Joe Wilson, but everybody calls me Woody.” His demeanor was businesslike, but his eyes were friendly as he greeted the new arrival.

“I’m your driver and mechanic. Anywhere you need to go, you just holler,” He smiled and gestured to the half dozen Black Hawk helicopters on the other side of the runway, “Unless you need to go by air, then Captain McKinley will give you a lift.”

“Thanks, Woody,” she replied as he took her duffle bag and threw it into the jeep. He motioned for her to get in on the passenger side as he slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “The major said to bring you right over, lieutenant, so we’ll be heading directly to his office.”

As he drove, Woody gave the lieutenant a rundown of the general operations, a sort of lay of the land. He explained that their operations were run out of a separate building from either the temporary embassy structure or the Marine barracks building. However, virtually all U.S. military operations facilities were housed on the grounds of the airport, for safety concerns.

Knowing that Alex was assigned to the general area, she asked the sergeant, “What about CIA, are they still housed with the embassy personnel?”

He looked curiously at his new boss, wondering why an army officer cared what the super spooks were doing. “Yes, ma’am, I believe they are, but we really don’t have any contact with those people.” His tone revealed his disdain for the non-military intelligence folks.

Devon made a mental note of his obvious irritation at the mention of the CIA. Casually, she continued, “I just know that they lost a lot of personnel in the spring, and wondered if they had moved them to a closer proximity to the military for security reasons.”

He laughed at that. “Lieutenant, they certainly don’t want us anywhere around anything that they are into. We’re just a bunch of grunts to them.”

Wilson pulled the jeep in front of a nondescript concrete block building about two miles from the runways. The building was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbed wire, the two army guards on either side of the door rendered sharp salutes as Devon approached, which she returned before stepping through the door behind the sergeant. He led the way down a short corridor to an outer office area where a specialist 4 sat behind a desk.

“Watson,” the sergeant addressed the young woman, “This is Lieutenant James. Please inform the major she has arrived.”

The specialist smiled, “Good afternoon, lieutenant, please have a seat.” She indicated the chairs along the wall. She picked up the phone and after a few seconds, said, “Major, Lieutenant James is her to see you. Very good sir.” Returning the phone to the cradle, she spoke again to Devon, “The major will just be a few moments, ma’am.”

Devon thanked the young woman and again reviewed the paperwork in her briefcase.

Less than five minutes later, the door behind the specialist opened and Major Kelly, a silver haired man in his fifties, about 5’10”, who appeared to be very fit walked briskly toward Devon, his hand outstretched, a welcoming smile on his face. “Lieutenant James, good to see you.”

Rising to greet the commander, Devon returned his smile and took his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir. I’m very happy to be here.”

During the thirty minute briefing, Devon learned that she was to be part of an intelligence gathering team concentrating on identifying and locating targets of interest in and around the mid east. In particular their emphasis was on those from Lebanon, Syria and Iran as well as PLO and recently, Hamas. Analysts would identify signals of interest, and once Devon’s team located the targets, they would either forward the information to allied forces, or if the threats were serious enough, U.S. special operations forces would be sent to neutralize the threat.

The team would be supported in their mission by the direction finding unit at NSA, Devon’s previous unit. Devon was glad to know that her people would be working with them, even if it was from the other side of the world. The major indicated that the unit was becoming more involved in operations, as they began to identify more potential targets. Devon had been sent to his command specifically to increase their threat assessment capabilities by applying her methods from NSA to their operations.

Major Kelly surveyed his new team leader. During the briefing she asked only a few questions, but they were on point, intelligent inquiries. She didn’t mince words and her directness revealed self confidence that he liked. James knew her stuff.

“Colonel Brinkman and I went to West Point together. Did he tell you that, Devon?”

“No sir, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“He spoke so highly of you that I was afraid that the reality might disappoint.” He smiled. “So far so good.”

“I was fortunate to have the colonel’s support.”

“The way he sees it, he was fortunate to have someone with your talent. Now’s your chance to show me what you’ve go. Let’s go meet your team, shall we?”

The major rose from behind his desk and started toward the door as Devon followed. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with around here.”

“I’ve heard this is an outstanding unit, major. I’m very excited to be here.”

“These folks are all pros, the best in their fields, so I expect that you will be a good fit here. We are a new unit, and that tends to give us more flexibility than most other assignments. Feel free to be innovative—I hear that’s really your specialty—just keep me informed so I’m not blindsided, and you and I will get along fine.”

“Yes sir.” Devon looked appreciatively at her new commander.

“Oh, and Devon,” the major smiled at her, “You’ll find that I worry more about work ethic and results, not ceremonial B.S. Most of the team operates informally as far as rank. Everyone is on a first name basis in the unit, and with the support personnel that they work closely with.”

“That’s fine, sir.” Devon gave the major a pleased grin. She had a feeling that this was going to be her kind of operation.

She followed the major to the operations center for a tour where she met the other members of the team. Along with Watson, there were three additional intelligence officers. Mike Stephens, a sergeant first class from Portland, Oregon was the unit’s Morse code specialist. Dave Michaels, a sergeant from Lincoln, Nebraska was a linguistics specialist, fluent in several Arabic languages. Jeff King, a specialist 5 was the unit’s signals specialist. All were experts in direction finding techniques, and all, just like their new boss were airborne trained graduates of jump school at Ft. Benning, GA.

“Gentleman, I am very pleased to meet all of you. I look forward to accomplishing great things with our unit.” Devon met each man’s eyes in turn. “I am able to copy about 50 groups per minute in Morse code,” she grinned at Stephens, “That’s like a snail compared to you, I’m sure Mike, but at least I can help.” Stephens returned the smile.

Continuing, Devon said, “I have some experience from my stint at NSA with other signals direction finding work, Jeff, so I know something about your area of expertise as well, but I’ll need you to bring me up to speed as to the recognition of the unique sounds of the equipment used by the terrorists here. As for you, Dave, I’ve got nothing,” she laughed slightly, “I can speak Italian—passably, so I’ll rely on your expertise completely in the language translation department.”

“I know how to work the equipment, I can parachute from a helicopter, and I am good at sifting through data for patterns or irregularities. However, you guys have been here. You know the terrain and the players already. I will rely on each of you to provide me with your piece of the data. My job will be to compile it and decide on the recommended locations for the strike force teams to take to the major. Questions?”

Looking again at each team member she nodded when they all shook their heads no. She knew that they had no questions about the job, what they did question was her. The only way to get past that was to jump right in and let them get to know her. Checking her watch, she saw that it was 1400hrs local time, which meant her body still on east coast time, said it was 0700 and she had begun her journey at 0540 hours the day before. She sighed, no time for sleep now.

“Okay, then, two things. First, somebody show me where I can stow my gear so I can get my first lesson at field station Beirut. Second—”

The door behind her banged open and Devon turned to see a woman in a green flight suit, her sleeves rolled up to reveal her muscular forearms striding purposefully across the open space. Her hair was jet black with just a hint of curl as it reached the edge of the collar and spilled over her forehead. Her steel grey eyes were sharply focused and her full lips looked to be just holding back a smile as she approached the new lieutenant.

“I heard we had a new arrival,” the captain said in a conversational tone to the room but her eyes continued to assess Devon. She stopped within a foot and extended her hand, smiling, “Erin McKinley, but everybody calls me Mac.”

Devon extended her hand and grasped the captain’s firmly, smiling as well. “Devon James, Captain, very pleased to meet you.”

The grey eyes flickered with amusement, “Just Mac is fine, Devon.”

Devon’s instantly liked the directness in the other woman’s demeanor. “Okay, Mac.”

“I’m the unit’s pilot, so whenever you need to go, or send out a recon team, you just give me a yell and we’ll be in the air within thirty minutes. Less, if you don’t catch me when I’m…otherwise engaged.”

The guys all laughed, as Mac winked and grinned knowingly at the group. “Anyway, I just came to say hello. Give me a shout if you need anything, Devon.” With that, she strolled out just the way she came in, leaving Devon to get acquainted with her team.

Chapter 21

Devon sat in front of a bank of monitors and radio receivers wearing headphones. One side covered her right ear listening to the transmissions and the left was hiked up on her head, allowing her to also hear the room around her. She turned the dial every few minutes alternating between the three frequencies that the team had identified as primary transmission lines for the PLO and newer, more active terrorist group, Hamas.

Jeff was monitoring transmissions from Israeli military units from a nearby station. “That last car bomb explosion was a little too close to the airport for comfort. What do you say, Devon?”

“Yeah.” She paused to concentrate a moment on the voice in her right ear. “That’s why we have to figure this out, Jeff. We have to identify a location for the group claiming responsibility. They’re getting way too bold.”

“Nobody’s said anything yet,” he rubbed his chin, “I’m hoping the Israeli’s might have something. If not, I’ll switch over and help you search.”

Devon heard chatter as she rolled onto the second frequency. She immediately flipped the left earpiece down onto her ear blocking out all other noise. Over the last few weeks, Jeff had given her some lessons in at least identifying the language she was listening to so that she would be able to distinguish the transmissions even if she didn’t understand what they were saying. The speaker was definitely Palestinian. Devon made a note of the exact frequency and time, then flipped the switch on the remote antenna. She mashed the tracking key, repeatedly taking as many readings as possible until the transmission was terminated about five seconds later.

She spun around, pushing her wheeled chair across the small space toward a laser printer that was spitting out lists of coordinates and corresponding maps of the target fixes. In the past few days they had begun fixing targets just to the east of the U.S. compound in a mountainous area long thought by the team to be the base area for the terrorist group Hamas.

“What do you think, Devon?” Jeff looked over her shoulder at the printouts.

“I think we have two problem areas,” Devon said, rising from her chair and moving to the large area map hanging on the wall. She placed a red pin in the area identified by the latest fix, and after reviewing similar hardcopies generated days before, she placed another pin in an area not even two miles from the airport.

“This first area is already known to be Shi’a dominated.” She drew her finger down the map to the second point. “That area is an extremely poor neighborhood, ripe for recruitment of new martyrs for the radical Shi’a Muslim groups. Maybe they’ve already set up shop there.”

“I’ll have Mike concentrate his signals work on those locations, boss.”

“Okay Jeff, that’s good. I’d like to get a look at both of those areas before we commit one of the ground teams. Also, Jeff, keep working on the voice intercepts. We need to confirm that the group in the hills is actually Hamas affiliated. If they are, the close proximity to the Shi’a living in the area just outside our gate is troubling.”

Devon stood and stretched, trying to work the tension from her back and shoulders. She stepped outside and walked the several hundred yards to the south side of the hanger that housed the helicopters. As she entered the large arched metal building, she marveled at the magnificence of the sleek black birds. She stopped a few feet from one, looking straight up to take in the enormity of the machine.

“Incredible, aren’t they?” A smooth tenor voice came from behind her. Devon turned to see Mac standing a few feet away, her eyes glowing as they wandered over the expanse of the Blackhawk helicopter.

“Yes.” Devon agreed, looking at it with wonder. She had flown in this and other birds in jump school, but they never ceased to amaze her. “How long have you been flying?”

“Ten years,” Mac shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. “I’ve always wanted to fly, since I was a kid.” She smiled and her eyes reflected a distant memory.

“Realizing a dream is a wonderful thing.”

“Yes,” She said seriously, her mind drifting in memory a moment. With a shake of her head she pulled herself back to the present. Mac said casually, “So, they say you’re the new super sleuth on the signals front.”

“Not really,” Devon replied, “I just like to compile all the data, shuffle it all together, look at it from another angle and see what fits.”

“Kind of like getting a different perspective from the air, I guess?” Mac rejoined, “Makes sense. Speaking of which, are you just here by accident or would you like to take a ride and get a look at that new perspective?”

“I think a look from on top would be a fine idea.” Devon agreed.

“Well then,” Mac laughed, “Let’s get going. We’ll take one of the smaller Huey’s for today’s short trip.”

She indicated one of the Hughes 369 light observation helicopters that was sitting out on the helipad. This machine had been the military’s helicopter workhorse for more than two decades. The egg shaped craft was designed to carry a pilot and four passengers. It also carried a 7.62mm minigun and for the purposes of the current mission, a compact version of the unit’s direction finding equipment was installed on the passenger side of the cockpit.

The two officers climbed into the cockpit and Mac handed Devon a headset. Motioning to the small boxes to the right, “Your electronic spy equipment is right there, in case we run into anything you find interesting,” she said.

Mac then began powering up the Huey and notifying the controller in the tower of their intent to depart. After a few moments, Devon heard the machine-like male voice give Mac of their clearance for takeoff. The rotors began winding and soon were spinning loudly, drowning out the possibility of conversation except by way of the headset, and even then the sound was a loud growling noise that competed with their voices and the low hum of Devon’s equipment.

Once they were in the air, Devon allowed herself a few minutes to simply take in the beauty of the sunset view from the aircraft as they ascended into the sky. Mac effortlessly banked the aircraft toward the west, taking them in a wide arc along the outer perimeter of the U.S. compound.

The view was breathtaking. They could see the city. Beirut was commonly called the Paris of the Middle East, and Devon could understand the comparison. It had all of the appearances of a modern world commerce center. Unfortunately, the raging civil war was damaging the infrastructure as well as the reputation of the former tourist destination. As soon as she caught sight of the areas where she and her crew needed intelligence, she switched on her on board equipment and began searching the frequencies. Her right ear was trained on the incoming signals and the left remained connected to Mac.

As the helicopter continued to make its wide bank, Devon adjusted the receiver to allow the random search for signals. Soon she spotted a small cluster of buildings that she didn’t recognize about a mile to the east of the airport. The small compound was surrounded by a barbed wire fence.

“What’s that?”

Mac looked in the direction Devon was pointing, “Temporary Embassy and CIA headquarters.”

“Really?” Devon couldn’t suppress a smile. She hadn’t had much time to think about finding Alex since she had been there, but the thought of her being that close pleased her. When she saw Mac looking at her inquiringly, a dark eyebrow raised, she shrugged, “I have an old friend assigned with the CIA here.” She was irritated with herself when she felt the heat of color rise in her cheeks.

“Must be quite a friend, huh?” Mac smiled. “You look like you want me to drop you right in the middle of that compound.” Her eyes twinkled with amused interest.

Devon wondered now at her reaction. Alexandra was her dearest friend and she did want to see her, but she was surprised at the physical response she was feeling just thinking about Alex. Her body immediately tingled at the thought of Alex being so near. The memories of their lovemaking were burned permanently into her consciousness and her body reacted of its own volition.

“Yes, she is quite a friend.”

Mac nodded without commenting. She saw a flicker of something that looked a lot like desire in the blue eyes. That’s interesting, she thought.

The sound of chatter on the frequency interrupted Devon’s thoughts and she quickly sat forward to concentrate. She adjusted the mobile antenna and took as many readings as she could before the voice went silent again.

“Did you get something?” Mac asked when she sat back from the monitor.

“I won’t know until we get back and I can get a map drawn up, but the area up there in the hills seems to be the heaviest activity. We keep getting readings from the housing area over there,” She pointed to the north, “But we haven’t been able to connect the two. I think they are related somehow.” If I could only talk to Alex, maybe we could piece this together and save us all lots of time.

“You have an idea?” Mac was studying her. “I heard that you had some unconventional ways of gathering information.”

“Not really.” Devon shrugged. “I just don’t think we should limit ourselves to the conventional.” She grinned.

“Well, I wrote the book on breaking from protocol, when the rules get in the way of getting things done. Does that friend of yours figure into your methods?”

“As a matter of fact, she does.”

Mac was banking the helicopter in for their landing; she glanced sideways again at her passenger, “How about we take a ride over there when we get in? I have a friend with the Embassy who can probably put us in touch with your friend.”

“Let’s do it, then.” Devon agreed.

Part 10

What's Ya Poison?