Deadly Deceptions (A Steve Darwood Army Counterintelligence Novel): A Steve Darwood Counterintelligence Novel, #1

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is dedicated to the many people who have served, especially those I served with in the field of counterintelligence. May your exploits, as secret as they should be, remain that way and your successes be many.

About Deadly Deceptions

The book runs about 279 pages in book form and consists of 75,000 words.

OTHER BOOKS BY Duane Gundrum

The Deck Const: Shadows & Rumors

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

Leader of the Losers

Destiny

Absent Without Leave

Deadly Deceptions: A Steve Darwood Army Counterintelligence Novel

Thompson’s Bounty: A Ship Out of Time

The Ameriad: The Untold Founding of America by the Survivors of Troy

The Teddy Bear Conspiracy

A Season of Kings: A Tales of Reagul Novel

Darkened Passages: A Collection of Dark Fantasy

DEADLY DECEPTIONS

A Steve Darwood Army Counterintelligence Novel

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The Cold War was an undeclared conflict that lasted for nearly half a century, and it was a time that called for extraordinary measures that are still being criticized today.  There were the McCarthy's, the Kennedys, and the Walkers, but they all existed to push the conflict deeper into what could only have ended in a conflagration that our world may never have survived.  It is only with the onset of the 1990s that the planet has a chance to push forward into a new era.

That new era didn't come about because of luck.  There were many key players involved in the resolution, and many of them have received the notable attention they deserve.  Still, there is a small group of players that has never received the attention that it deserves.  This group may have been the turning point in what could have been the end of all mankind.  This group is the intelligence network of the Cold War nations.

The media of the Cold War era, and the post-Cold War era, paints a portrait of daring figures, unbelievable James Bond-types, who served country and state, but the fact of the matter is that most of the people of the intelligence community weren't of this stereotype.  They were very normal people thrust into very abnormal situations.  It was the success of these people that made the Cold War turn out as it did.

Not every intelligence agent was a member of the Central Intelligence Agency, or KGB for that matter.  There are numerous intelligence agencies working alongside both of these agencies that served their country bravely and without reserve.  It is because of these agencies that success was obtained in the Cold War.  Peace came through knowledge from both sides, and both sides employed very dedicated people to that purpose.

This novel attempts to capture the spirit of some of these people and salutes their successes as they sink back into obscurity with the close of the Cold War.  The world is fortunate for their sacrifices, and it goes with special understanding that many of these same people are still fighting the same battles they fought in the Cold War.  There are new enemies and targets, but these people continue to serve their respective countries.  History will undoubtedly fail to remember their sacrifices, but that doesn't mean we can't remain grateful.

Duane Allen Gundrum—San Francisco, California, 2006

TONGDUCHON, SOUTH KOREA

1987

Harold Freemont was not what anyone would consider a model soldier.  With two years of service in the Army and three official reprimands, one would assume his career was coming to a quick finish.  However, in the unpredictable world of the United States Army, his career never looked any better.

Recently, he was promoted to specialist and was assigned to the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF) of 2nd Infantry Division in South Korea.

To anyone else, this would have been the assignment to excel.  However, Howard Freemont was not just anyone else.  He was a spy.

Spying wasn't something he included in his original career goals, but the money looked so good.  He figured he would skate through his tour in Korea working for the people.  He knew it would never be discovered considering no one really cared about the unimportant information he was giving out.

This was before he started working in the SCIF.

At first, all that people ever wanted from him were Field Manuals and Technical Manuals.  He saw nothing wrong with giving the information to them.  After all, they probably had it from some other source a long time ago.  Besides, none of the information was classified.

Recently, he received a message from his contact that the people wanted sensitive information from the SCIF.  Knowing the information was classified at SECRET and above, he knew he couldn't give them access to it.

When he told them he couldn't do it, his contact showed him pictures of some of their first meetings.  The pictures showed Freemont accepting money from the agent while handing over the manuals.

His contact threatened to send the pictures to his company commander if he didn't get them the information.  However, if he followed every one of their instructions, they would give him one thousand dollars and never ask him for anything every again.

He didn't realize they would never allow him to stop giving them information once they had him hooked.  But, then again, he really didn't have any choice.

CHAPTER I

DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY

509th Personnel Service Center

APO San Francisco  96224-0289

ORDERS  94-150 

MORGAN, EDWARD J.  548-41-4123 PV1 Co D, 2nd Training Battalion, Fort Huachuca, Arizona 85613

You will proceed on permanent change of station as shown.

Released from:  HHC, 2nd Infantry Division, APO San Francisco, 96224.

Assigned to:  HHC, 12th MI Battalion, APO San Francisco, 96224.

Private Edward J. Morgan took a deep breath before he entered the office to the Counterintelligence Section, 2nd Infantry Division.  It was his first duty station and he was nervous.

Special Agent Robert Abbey, a thin, brown-haired soldier in civilian clothing, stepped into the office behind the young private.  He had just driven the young man from 12th MI Battalion Headquarters to the CI office.

Take a seat, said Robert.  David will be here in a couple of minutes.

The young man dropped his duffle bag to the floor and took a seat behind one of the five desks in the office's main room.

Where are you from? said Robert.

Tucson, sir.

Robert smiled.  You don't need to call me, sir.  Around here, we throw away military formalities.

Sir, he said before he realized it.  He took anther deep breath.  What would you like me to call you?

My name is Robert, he said.  Call me that.

The young man forced a smile.  He was beginning to believe his first assignment wouldn't be that bad.

Looking around the office, he noticed there was a rear section to the building in which there were three more metal desks.  In between the main section and the rear section, there was another little room where there was only one desk.  He figured this was probably where the supervisor had his office.

An older man walked into the building from the front door.  He noticed Edward immediately and walked over to him with a smile on his face.  Before Edward could stand up, the man threw out his hand for him to shake.

Welcome to Hell, said the man.  My name is David Langstrom.  I run this insane asylum.

Edward smiled.  Thank you, sir.

David turned to Robert.  Did you explain that we don't say 'sir' here?

He nodded his head yes.

David turned back to the private.  That's ten push-ups.

Edward smiled and dropped to the ground to knock out the ten push-ups.  The smile was still on his face when he stood up.

That's better, said David.  We can't work together here if we keep giving each other titles.

Robert stared at the private for a couple of seconds.  Who are we going to put him with?

David thought for a second.  Private Morgan, he said reading the name tag on the young man's uniform.  I'm going to put you with Special Agent Steve Darwood.

Robert couldn't help but smile.

Edward stared at Robert.  He wondered what was so funny.

Between you and me, said David, and I don't want you saying this to Steve, he's probably the best agent we've ever had.  If you want to learn about becoming a CI agent, he's the one to teach you.  The only problem is that he has extremely high standards.  Counterintelligence isn't just a job to him.

Robert turned to David.  You'd better warn him about the other thing.

David smiled.  You're right.  He'd find out eventually.  He turned back to Edward.  I hope you aren't someone who believes in going by rulebooks, because I don't think there's a rule around he hasn't broken trying to do his job.

Edward stared in confusion.  I don't understand.

There's a lot of red tape in the military, said Robert.  He doesn't believe in going around it.  He cuts right through it regardless of whether or not he's supposed to.

Watch yourself, said David.  He gets himself into a lot of trouble at times.

Great, said Edward sarcastically.

Robert laughed.  There's no worry.  You're a private.  They can't take any rank from you.

Where is Mr. Darwood now? said Edward.

He's doing what we in the business refer to as bar coverage, said David.  You probably won't see him until tomorrow.

Jeffery Waterson entered the Noble Cabin bar and took a quick look around before he spotted his old friend, Steve Darwood, at the other end of the bar.  As usual, his friend appeared to be trying to seduce the young waitress behind the bar.

As usual, he wasn't getting anywhere with her.

The Noble Cabin was one of the unique establishments in South Korea that was not made up completely of Korean decor and did not have Korean prostitutes cruising the tables looking for GIs.  This was probably why the younger American crowd kept away from the place leaving it a refuge for the older soldiers and military civilians.

Upon entering the bar, one might believe he or she was in some secret hideout unknown to other people.  There were logs serving as columns and rafters adding to the isolationist-look of the place.  American sport-team pennants hung from the columns dimly lit by red painted light bulbs which only served to add to the exotic atmosphere of the bar.

It was here that many soldiers came to forget they were in Korea only ten miles from a border patrolled by armed soldiers on both sides.

The young waitress looked up at Jeffery and smiled.  Hello, Jeff.  How are you today?  In a bouncy movement, she turned back to Steve.  Tony, your friend is here.

Jeffery smiled at her broken English and ordered an OB beer, the South Korean national beer.  He paid his money and watched as the tiny waitress moved off to another position behind the bar.

Steve turned to Jeffery.  What brings you in here so early?

I'm on a mission, said Jeffery with a smile.

Sure you are, said Steve adding a smile of his own.

Jeffery stared at his friend for a second.  How come you still use the name Tony?  Why don't you just tell them your real name?

Have to keep my cover, said Steve with a laugh.

Give me a break.  You CI types are all the same.

You never know when it might come in handy to have every girl in Tongduchon thinking my name is Tony Furguson.  It would sure help in case one of them should be looking for a future husband and wants Tony.

Jeff took another drink from his beer.  What's it like being a counterintelligence agent?

Steve stared at him.  What's it like being a CID agent?

Obviously nothing like CI.

Believe me, counterintelligence is no more exciting than the Criminal Investigation Division.

Jeff smiled.  Do you realize that we might be the only two members of counterintelligence and CID who communicate with each other?

That's understandable.  The older agents have been in the business so long, they don't trust each other.  Some of the agents don't even trust other agents in the same field.

That's really too bad, said Jeff.  There's so much that can be accomplished if both groups work together.

Unfortunately, neither group has a common bond to trust each other with, said Steve.  You and I, on the other hand, have been through too much together.

You can't possibly be referring to the shoot-out at the OK Corral in Stuttgart, Germany? he said with a smile.

Personally, to this day, I don't know how we lived through that one.

That's simple, said Jeff.  We waited until the German Polizei arrived to bail us out.

I still haven't forgiven you for bringing me into that situation.

What? he said with an amused expression.  I was on leave when you called me and asked me for my help.

Steve started laughing.  Oh, was that how it happened.  I always thought it was originally your case.

Jeff took another drink from his beer.  If I recall the incident correctly, we arrested several members of the Red Army Faction, and you said you owed me one.

He was still laughing.  I must have forgotten about that.

It could have been worse, said Jeff.  At least I wasn't the one shot in the fight.

Steve massaged his left leg.  I ducked when I should have leaped.

Jeff downed his beer and stood up.

Where are you going? said Steve.

I told you:  I have a mission tonight.

It's about time.  You've been in Korea for three months and haven't done anything more exciting than screw-up paperwork.

Gotta go, he said with a smile.

Steve watched him leave before he ordered another beer.

The New House Club in Tongduchon (TDC), South Korea, was one of the many GI bars located near Camp Casey, the headquarters of the 2nd Infantry Division.  Much like the rest of the bars in the city, it served to satisfy the carnal needs of Camp Casey's soldiers.

Young Korean women cruised the bar tables looking for soldiers who were alone.  The women always dressed in loud, short-cut outfits that did very little to cover them up.  The girls who were not cruising tables danced to the cracking stereo while waiting for soldiers to join them on the dance floor.

Kim, Chong-Ki sat at the bar of the New House Club for about an hour while looking over the group of American soldiers in the place.  The wild antics of the GIs as they consumed more and more alcohol never ceased to amaze him.  His own people became wild at times after drinking, but they were never stupid enough to challenge a Korean policeman to a fight; with Americans, it was a common occurrence.

A couple of minutes later, he spotted a soldier sitting alone.  He walked over to the man's table.

The soldier, a young drunken male of about twenty years old, saw the Korean male coming towards his table.  He said nothing as the man took a seat across from him.

My name is Mr. Kim, he said.  What is yours?

The soldier stared at him for a couple of seconds.  Why?

I see that you have no girl sitting with you.  Why is that?

The soldier took a deep breath.  I ran out of money on some other girl at the New York Club.

Kim smiled.  No problem.  Have a drink on me.

Kim waved to one of the scantily clad bargirls.  She rushed over to the table.

What would you like to drink? said Kim.

A beer is fine, said the soldier.

Kim turned to the girl and gave her the order in Korean.  She rushed off and came back to the table with two OB beers.

Thanks, said the soldier.

What is your name? said Kim.

Adam Yeager, he said.

"Adam Yaygah?" said Kim.

Something like that.

How much did you spend on that other girl? said Kim.

About fifty dollars, he said.  I ran out of money before I could ask her for a short-time.

Kim smiled.  I understand.

Kim took a quick look around the bar.  Are there any girls in here that interest you?

Yeager glanced around the bar and motioned towards a Korean girl in a shiny, blue miniskirt.

Good choice, said Kim.  I don't blame you.

Yeager forced a smile and continued with his beer.

Kim turned to one of the bargirls and motioned for her to come to the table.  Saying something to her in Korean, he motioned to the bargirl in the miniskirt.  Immediately, the bargirl ran off to retrieve the girl in the miniskirt.

Seconds later, the girl stepped over to the table.

This is my friend, Adam, said Kim to the girl.  Sit with him.

The girl took a seat next to Yeager.  What is your name? she said.

Yeager told her.

How long have you been in Korea?

Two months.

She smiled.  My name is Chong-Hui.

Kim looked at Yeager for a second.  How would you like to never have to worry about money again?

I don't understand, said Yeager.

The music changed to a slower, but scratchier, song.  The bargirls who were not sitting with customers stood up and searched for partners to slow dance with.  Most of the couples seated in the bar stood up to dance.

Do you have a ration card? said Kim to Yeager.

He nodded his head yes.  Chong-Hui wrapped her right leg over his left leg while they were sitting beside each other.

I can supply you with a new ID card, new ration card and a lot of money if you would pick-up several items for me at the Post Exchange.

That's black-marketing, said Yeager.

Of course it is.  Still, it is very profitable, and you run no chance of getting caught.

Where do you get the new ID and ration cards?

That's not important, said Kim.  Do you want to make money?

How much money are we talking about?

A couple of thousand dollars a week.

His eyes opened wide.  Seriously?

He nodded his head yes.

How can you guarantee that I won't be caught?

I have friends in the ration card section who can erase purchases from the ration cards.

He took a deep breath as Chong-Hui put her arms around his neck.  When can I start?

Tomorrow, he said.  Meet me at the bar in the Lucky Club.

He nodded his head.  I'll be there.

Kim turned to Chong-Hui and said something in Korean.  Then he turned back to Yeager.  I've fixed it with the girl.  She is yours for the night.

Yeager smiled.  Thanks a lot.

I will see you tomorrow, said Kim as he stood up from his seat.

Yeager went upstairs with the girl.

The Lucky Club was another one of the many clubs that catered to the carnal desires of the local military personnel.  While the girls didn't as fancy clothing as the girls in the New House Club, what they did wear was little enough to barely cover them up.  However, the Lucky Club had a reputation of another sort; it was one of the few clubs that also catered to military females.

When Yeager walked into the Lucky Club, he pushed his way through the dancing bargirls to the bar.  Each one of the girls attempted to get him to join her.  After a couple of attempts by each one, they realized he wasn't in their club to pick-up any girls.

At least, not yet.

Yeager spotted Kim sitting at a table near the bar.  There was another American soldier in civilian clothing sitting at the bar with him.  The soldier wore a denim jacket with the name Biggin printed in bold, yellow letters on the back.

Sit down, Yaygah, said Kim.  This is Biggin.

I thought so, said Yeager with a smile.  He shook the soldier's hand.

Mr. Biggin was just leaving, said Kim.

Biggin stood up and turned to Kim.  This isn't over yet.

Kim just smiled.  Have a nice day, Mr. Biggin.

Biggin turned to Yeager and looked him in the eye.  Get out while you still can.

Without another word, the young soldier stormed out of the bar.

Yeager watched Biggin until the soldier disappeared behind the door.  He turned back to Kim.  What was that about?

He wanted more money than we originally planned, said Kim.

Yeager smiled.  That doesn't surprise me.

I did some checking on you, said Kim.

Yeager's eyes opened wide.  You did what?

You have a pretty bad record.

It's not that bad.

Hitting your company commander once, drunk driving twice and two assault charges.

Nothing was ever proved on those charges.

You received a loss of rank for hitting your company commander.

So?  Who cares?

I do.  I only want people with perfect records.

Why?

People like you are risks to me.  A person with a perfect record is someone I can trust and someone the military police will not suspect.

You can trust me, said Yeager.

Kim stared at him for a couple of seconds.  If you should ever think of betraying me, I can only promise that you will not live to regret it.

Yeager stared at him.  You know?  Your English is very good.

I studied English at Seoul University.

When do I start?

Kim handed him a sealed envelope.  In this envelope you will find an ID card, a ration control plate and two thousand dollars.

Yeager stuck the envelope into his coat pocket.

There is also a list of items to pick-up and the places where you will get them.  The remainder of the money, about five hundred dollars, is yours to keep.

Anything else? said Yeager.

"I will see you at the New Korea Club tomorrow evening around nine o'clock.  Bring the equipment to a taxi that will be waiting at the main gate every hour.  The note in the envelope will tell you how to recognize the taxi and driver.

Yeager nodded and left.

The New Korea Club was another one of the many clubs in Tongduchon, South Korea.  Much like every other club, it was run by bargirls willing to give American soldiers a good time for a small price.  While a little classier than most of the other bars, it was still one of the other bars.

When Yeager stepped into the club, he walked over