Red Ice

“More than you think. Max Brown has become quite respectable lately. He’s forsaken the behavior that landed him in jail during the Days of Rage in Chicago. Why, he’s even written a book and taken to wearing ties. In fact, as administrative aide to Senator Denehy, he is a strong and open supporter of reform through working within the system. Really a heartwarming turnaround, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, very touching. It’s a shame some of the former guests at the Hanoi Hilton aren’t around to write him character references. No doubt some of them still hold bitter memories of Brown and his actress friend. The North Vietnamese did some extra shoulder dislocating to coerce those POWs into making anti-U.S. statements alongside Brown and her. Somehow the POWs held out,” I said irritably, and added, “Sure, Brown’s working within the system now. Why, I’ll bet he owns a station wagon and belongs to a country club.”

Kim just blinked. “We’re fairly sure he’s an agent of influence, but there’s no way to prove it. Anyway, that doesn’t matter right now. It’s Senator Denehy who’s our big worry. Denehy is number two in seniority on the Senate Armed Services Committee, and number three on Foreign Relations.”

“And?”

“He wants to make—what’s the expression—a big splash. And Ackert, I’m sure, would like a patron on that committee. A friend in the right places can win a star or two for the collar of an enterprising naval officer, I suspect. You understand.”

I did, all too well. A deal was in the making: help my political career now and I’ll back your naval career in the future. So Ackert’s interest in my activities was prompted by more than spite. The story he’d given me about the Central Intelligence Agency’s interest had seemed an unlikely half-truth. For Ackert, the military courtier, this was more in keeping with his character.

Kim studied the pieces on the changgi board. “Denehy’s causes have been growing wilder as his influence within the Senate has increased. His most current cause is to establish virtual control of the U.S. Armed Forces by a new special congressional oversight committee.”

“Control?” I questioned. “Paralysis would be more like it. But maybe that’s what he has in mind. A neutering of the U.S. defense organization would mesh neatly with his philosophy on how to solve the world’s problems. But how do we enter into all this?”

Kim picked up a checkerlike changgi piece and pushed it against the edge of his desk. “Denehy’s constituency has been getting impatient with him and he’s up for reelection this fall. He ranks ninety-eighth in attendance at roll-call votes and hasn’t been very responsive to his blue-collar base. He needs an issue for this fall—badly. An exposé of some sort would be best: a Watergate, a Koreagate, an anything-gate. The ideal exposé would underscore his committee seniority and be consistent with his image. He styles himself as an authority on foreign affairs and abuses of military power—by both governmental and private militaries. Oh, how he’d like to link an unsavory paramilitary organization with a big-money U.S. corporation. Kurganov isn’t paying you directly, his corporation Samizdat Publishing International is. Samizdat has made millions and spends much of what it makes on Kurganov’s projects.

“Despite the fact that there were only a few Americans involved, Denehy wrung incredible mileage out of the mercenary flap in Angola during the mid-seventies. I think he’s preparing to put on a similar show. Here’s his last release.”

Kim handed me a newspaper clipping.

The ruthless machismo of the mercenary creed does not lend itself to ideas of democracy, fair play, anti-colonialism, and world peace. I seek a resolution that it be the sense of the Senate that the U.S. government should seek out and foil any vestige of this brand of soulless enterprise. Its practitioners are men without sense, conscience, or compassion.

“And men like Brown, Ackert, and Denehy are men abounding in sense, conscience, and compassion,” I commented. “Funny. I wouldn’t have characterized Kosciuszko and Pulaski as soulless men, or the Lafayette Escadrille and the Flying Tigers as soulless enterprises.”

So Ackert was making his grand play. If he could bring them my head at the right moment and under a dark cloud of failure, it would keep a senator with all the perverse ambition and wrongheadedness of a soap-opera patriarch in power, a closet Marxist in influence, and a naval careerist on the inside track.