Agent of Vengeance Read online

  Fletcher offered Ho Lin the choice of death or working for the South Vietnamese. Lin chose the latter and began to employ his talents for Fletcher’s purposes. When the Viet Cong learned that Lin had joined the South Vietnamese interrogation unit, terror ran rampant among their leaders. Often Ron would only have to mention Lin’s name and his prisoner would break down and “volunteer” any information Fletcher requested.

  Over time, Lin and Fletcher developed an unlikely friendship, and Lin offered to tutor Fletcher in the use of his techniques. Ron proved to be an excellent student, finding a mystical harmony in the oriental philosophy as applied to both physical and mental torture. Ron became proficient in the use of a tool that Lin had designed called the “Death Pin.” This was a six-inch long collapsible steel needle made with a hollow center into which various instruments could be introduced. Ron’s favorite accessory was a quartet of titanium microblades that would could be twisted under the skin to dramatic effect. Lin taught Fletcher how the Death Pin could be used either as a weapon or as an aid for extracting information from non-cooperative subjects. Over time, Fletcher made the Death Pin his trademark instrument.

  When Fletcher ended his military service he was recruited by the National Security Agency, a clandestine intelligence organization which was established in 1952 by the Department of Defense. He quickly rose through its ranks. His current cover in Israel was that of Director of Education at the U.S. Embassy in Tel Aviv Embassy. His real assignment, however, was to accompany Israel commando teams on their raids into Lebanon. This was in keeping with an undisclosed pact between the United States and Israel to help ensure intelligence regarding emerging terrorist organizations was quickly disseminated to all interested parties.

  It was a demanding position, since many of the Israeli operations were unusually risky. In fact, the previous four agents who had held Ron’s assignment had been grated transfer requests on the basis of “immediate danger to personal safety.” Fletcher, however, enjoyed the raids, and when an operation seemed to be nosediving out of control, he would unofficially drop his observer status and join in.

  Two months earlier, the unit Fletcher was accompanying had been ambushed by a company of Hezbollah terrorists on maneuvers. All nine of the Israeli commandos were hit with fire. They were surrounded and outgunned. Ron, the tenth man, was the only one who had not been injured. Eventually, the Hezbollah terrorists moved in to capture the commandos. Ron noticed that they were not checking the severity of their wounds, so he acted as if he, too, had sustained a serious injury. As a result, he was included when they bound the Israelis’ hands and tossed them in the back of a truck with a canvas roof to take them back to Hezbollah’s base camp.

  One terrorist armed with an AK-47 assault rifle was stationed in the back of the truck to guard the Israelis. Fletcher saw that the guard, exhausted from the maneuvers and the gunfight, kept glancing out of the truck to keep awake. He covertly removed the Death Pin from a hidden compartment in the side of his right boot and used it to cut off his bonds. When the terrorist again turned his head, Ron jumped on him and stabbed the Death Pin into his right ear, penetrating deep into his brain. The terrorist died instantly.

  Fletcher then grabbed the terrorist’s assault rifle, climbed out from under the canvas roof, and clinging to the side of the truck worked his way toward the passenger-side door. He smashed the passenger window with the stock of the AK-47, and then flipped it around and held down the trigger, emptying an entire magazine into the front compartment. As the truck veered out of control, he jumped through the broken window and grabbed the wheel. After a quick stop to kick out the bullet-ridden bodies of the terrorists in the cab, he drove the truck to the unit’s pickup point, ramming through two roadblocks on the way. Thanks to Fletcher’s actions, all the soldiers survived. Ron was subsequently awarded Israel’s highest medal for valor in a secret ceremony.

  Fletcher entered the U.S. Embassy through a side door. Waiting next to the security guard was Mike Barnes, the Assistant Director of Education for the Embassy and Ron’s assistant. Barnes, an African American, was a former college all-American linebacker with Alabama’s Crimson Tide. He had joined the Navy after graduation and trained as an underwater demolition expert. From there he was transferred the then-newly created Navy Seals. In Vietnam he had been part of the Phoenix Program, and had been recruited by the NSA after discharge. He had recently been assigned to the Tel Aviv Embassy to be Fletcher’s assistant and eventual replacement.

  “Sir,” Barnes said, “the Ambassador just called. He wants you to drive down to the Ministry of Defense in Jerusalem.”

  “What for?” Ron asked.

  “He says you need to give an official statement about Israel’s flights over Southern Lebanon yesterday. There are reports circulating that the Israelis bombed targets with American-made ordinances.”

  “Mike, didn’t you tell him that those are just rumors? We’ve checked this out at least a dozen times!” Ron said, frustrated.

  “I tried, but he didn’t want to listen. He said he’s flying stateside this week and has a meeting with the Secretary of State. If the subject comes up, he wants to show that he investigated.”

  “Between you and me, this more about his career than diplomacy. You know he wants the Ambassadorship to England. I guess he has to show that he cares about protocol,” Ron complained. “What time is my appointment?”

  “Noon.”

  “Oh, that’s just great. There goes family day at the beach. Mary’s going to have a fit! This is the second time this month I promised and didn’t show up.”

  4

  As the Strain facility was being bombarded by Captain Jack Armstrong’s Rowdy 52s, Werner was sleeping soundly on the lower level. In order to maximize the number of experiments he could run, he had long ago moved his quarters from the upper dormitories to a simple cot in a storage room near the main lab, just a few hundred yards from the sealed warehouse holding the soil samples containing the Strain.

  The lower level, boasting fourteen-foot thick concrete walls made at the same grade that had been used to fortify the Fuhrerbunker, had been designed to insulate the main lab and storage room from any disturbance of the upper levels up to and including intense bombing. It was deafeningly silent, save a faint hum from the ventilation system.

  At 6:10 a.m., Professor Werner Broder’s assistant knocked on his door to tell him the day shift was ten minutes late. He rose and walked to the intercom to chastise the team leader responsible. When there was no answer, he angrily hurried to the elevator to investigate the delay. As Werner had not left the lower level for over a week, he felt it was in any case a good opportunity to “go topside” and inspect the facility. After waiting five minutes for the elevator he realized that something was very wrong. Broder headed to the staircase and began to climb the two hundred and twenty-four steps to the surface in double-time.

  When Broder finally reached the steel security door sealing the lower level from the surface, he was completely out of breath. With great difficulty he pulled down on the grey handle and pushed open the heavy door. He looked out and was stunned by the sight of mangled steel beams and fallen concrete blocks. The upper level had been completely demolished. Seeing his life’s work now destroyed, he turned grey and collapsed. Later that day, Nazi soldiers investigating the site found him sitting in a pile of rubble, mumbling to himself. Broder was immediately evacuated to the island’s main army hospital in Heraklion. There he was diagnosed as suffering from a severe nervous breakdown.

  It was a tremendous blow to Hitler when he received the news of the bombing of the facility and Werner Broder’s condition. Until that time, his belief that Broder could help turn the tide of the war in Germany’s favor had been his only solace. Now, all hope had vanished.

  Hitler dispatched an elite SS battalion led by his most loyal officer, Gruppenfuhrer Rudolf Kempler, to Crete to take command of the Strain Facility. Kempler was a natural cold-blooded killer. Hitler’s first order to Kempler w
as to shoot Oberst Kropp for his failure to adequately protect the facility. Kempler had no compunction to carry out the order. Immediately upon arrival, as he was being warmly greeted by Kropp, Kempler coolly removed his Luger from its holster and shot Kropp between the eyes.

  Kempler inspected the facility and sent a detailed report to Hitler. It stated that though the lower level of the facility had remained intact, Professor Broder was in no mental condition to continue his efforts to develop the Strain. This news completely shattered Hitler. The Russian forces, led by Stalin’s most talented general, Konstantinovich Zhukov, were by then less than one hundred kilometers from Berlin. With no other option, Hitler ordered that Broder should be airlifted to Berlin and treated at Germany’s top sanatorium.

  Hitler was now totally despondent about his fate and that of Nazi Germany. Now facing ultimate defeat, in a moment of weakness he confided the details of the Strain Program with his most trusted follower, Doctor Joseph Goebbels, Minister of Propaganda. Goebbels listened carefully to the details. As he listened, he, too, was crushed as he realized his personal dream of universal Nazi Socialism was dying.

  When Hitler finished, Goebbels comforted his Fuhrer and told him that all was not lost. Again, he repeated the mantra that just as Fredrick the Great was able to bring Germany to victory from inevitable defeat in the Seven Year War, so too would the Fuhrer. Goebbels asked Hitler to give him a few hours and he would return with a surprise.

  Several hours later, Hitler met with Goebbels in the conference room of the Fuhrerbunker. Hitler was in a bitter mood.

  “The lion,” Hitler began, “is under siege by a gang of idiotic, rock-slinging baboons. And even my own people are turning on me now that the enemy has the upper hand. If it was in my power, I would wipe out the whole unjust world!”

  Goebbels nodded in agreement. He began to speak, slowly and cautiously. “My Fuhrer, you told me that Professor Broder was positive the Strain could be prepared into a weapon of war.”

  Hitler nodded, then said sullenly, “But there is no time! We will consider ourselves lucky if Germany lasts another two weeks!”

  “Perhaps consider this, my Fuhrer. We could send Broder, with all his staff, to a remote location where he would finish his weapon. When it is complete, he can execute your final order and destroy the entire non-Aryan world. At that time you will have your final victory.”

  Hitler frowned. “That’s not enough! I have to personally give the order when it is the right time. I must be there!”

  “Then why not go into hiding with him?” Goebbels asked.

  “You know as well as I do that if I accompany Broder into exile, the world would never rest until I am found. They would search the ends of the earth. And if they find me, Stalin will put me on display in the Moscow Zoo. Look what they did to our Italian friend, Mussolini. His own people hung him from a meat hook in the town square. No Josef, I must die here in the Bunker.”

  Goebbels had been waiting for this declaration. “Well, mein Fuhrer, what if I tell you that you can die here in the bunker and still be able to order Broder to use the weapon any way you deem fit?”

  Hitler laughed. “My dear Josef, you are starting to believe your own fairy tales. Have you gone mad?”

  “Perhaps, but not about this.” Goebbels answered. “Please bear with me for just a moment and hear what I am about to say.”

  Hitler nodded.

  As you know, Himmler, Goering, and Bormann have become enormously rich by looting the nations we conquered.”

  “Of course I know. I turned a blind eye to this. I was never interested in collecting money or trinkets.”

  “Well, for many years I was offered a cut of the booty, but I always refused. But eventually I realized that I could use the wealth for a greater good. Like the Medici family used their wealth to patronize Michelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci, I decided I would use my share to further the pursuits of geniuses aligned with our own interests.”

  Hitler looked at Goebbels impatiently. “Yes, go on.”

  “About a year ago, Himmler introduced me to a Dr. Julius Schreiber. He is the Chairman of Medicine at the University Hospital in Hamburg, as well as the Chief of the Department of Eugenics. A man completely devoted to the vision of a pure Aryan nation. He explained that the Government had stopped his funding in order to cover military expenses. I decided I would personally fund his research, and met with him periodically to discuss his progress.

  “Mein Fuhrer, after the terrible Generals Plot, I realized that without you Nazism is but a shell. Knowing that Dr. Schreiber was an expert in medical research, I asked him off-hand one day if there was a way to keep you alive forever. I was just musing, but Dr. Schreiber said he would accept it as a challenge. He told me that he would give me an answer at our next meeting.

  “A few weeks later, I had already forgotten the conversation, but when we sat down, the first words out of his mouth was that yes, he knew how to keep you alive forever.

  “Obviously, I was flabbergasted by such an outrageous claim, but Dr. Schreiber displayed only the utmost confidence. He insisted that I come down to his lab and he would prove it. So we went straight to his Institute. He showed me the proof. And, I tell you, he was speaking the truth. I wasn’t sure how to approach you with this, but after our conversation this morning, I realized the time had come.”

  Hitler was dumbfounded. “Is this another one of your fantastic tall tales to comfort me?” Hitler sighed. Then he said, resigned, “I suppose I could meet this Dr. Schreiber.”

  “If I may so bold,” Goebbels announced, “The good doctor is waiting outside.”

  Hitler glared at Goebbels. “Oh, of course he would be. Bring him in to my private quarters.”

  Hitler called Bormann and ordered him to bring both Goebbels and a Dr. Julius Schreiber to his personal quarters. When Hitler entered a few moments later, they stood up and gave the Nazi salute with an emphatic, “Heil Hitler!” Hitler half-heartedly returned the salute and shuffled toward his chair. He looked confused and perplexed.

  Dr. Julius Schreiber, a tall, thin man with the build of a praying mantis, had shown an unusual interest for medicine from his earliest days. At six years old, he performed his first medical procedure, exploratory abdominal surgery, on a calico cat which he had received as a birthday present. When his mother discovered the mutilated creature, he explained simply that he “just wanted to see how it works.”

  Schreiber continued his grotesque “experiments” throughout primary and secondary school, but was otherwise a model student. Upon graduation, he received a full scholarship to the Medical University of Vienna, and completed his studies two full years early with honors.

  Dr. Schreiber, however, had shown little interest in treating patients, and was determined to dedicate his career to academic medicine. A prolific researcher, he was made full professor in record time. However, despite many early successes, he was often reprimanded by his superiors for unethical conduct. He was finally punished with a one-year suspension after publishing an article about brain surgery to cure “rebellious urges” that had been performed on “volunteers” from a local mental institution. At the hearing he had inherited a nickname that stuck with him for the rest of his career, “Dr. Frankenstein.”

  During his suspension, Dr. Schreiber sought to pursue his research outside of the university. One of his proposals regarding a eugenics project found its way into the hands of Heinrich Himmler, who was enthusiastic about the idea.

  The proposal was to create a step-by-step protocol for producing pure Aryans. Schreiber proposed selecting existing male and female Aryans, based on his own criteria, and breed them like horses. Those selected would be Germans that were eighteen years old and were tall, strong, and intelligent. Only candidates with blond hair and blue eyes were to be considered.

  Himmler, the black-haired, balding former schoolteacher, was enthralled with the concept of breeding pure Germans to create “Super Aryans.” The thought of using eugenics to produce t
he “Master Race” would be, in his mind, the ultimate achievement of the Third Reich. After a two-hour meeting Himmler decided to sponsor the project.

  Months later, during the initial stages of the Super Aryan Project, at an informal dinner party, Himmler introduced Dr. Schreiber to Goebbels. Immediately the two Nazi fanatics hit it off. They spent the entire party talking about different ways science might help in furthering the goals of the Third Reich. At the end of the night, Goebbels approached Himmler and asked if he could steal away Dr. Schreiber to work on some his own ideas. Himmler was delighted to grant this favor, knowing that this would create some good will with the Minister of Propaganda.

  Hitler stared at Dr. Schreiber, trying to size him up. After a moment, Goebbels asked Schreiber directly, “Can you make the Fuhrer live forever?”

  Schreiber answered slowly and carefully. “If you are asking whether I can maintain the Fuhrer’s consciousness, memories, and ability to communicate indefinitely, then yes, I can, absolutely.”

  Schreiber turned towards Hitler and continued, “May I be so bold, my Further, to address you directly.”

  Hitler, arms folded, nodded.

  “At first, when Doctor Goebbels asked if there was a way to prologue life eternally, I was fascinated by the idea. However, all organic structures inevitably break down. The brain, the most important organ and the seat of consciousness, is the most fragile of organs. Without adequate blood flow, it begins to break down within three minutes.

  “In the course of my research, however, I had encountered a very unusual case of a young woman with cancer of the blood which seemed to break all the rules of organic matter. This young woman, who we called Patient Y, had in her blood a cell with an unusual shape which, when isolated, never seemed to lose any vitality over time. These cells were not only immortal themselves, they seemed influence the vitality of adjacent cells. When put in a medium, we were able to keep many different tissues, including bone, skin, and internal organs vital for years, without any signs of breakdown.