“There was a former general in his army by the name of Salino, who changed political affiliation and then left the country just before Franco took over. Salino was a popular political figure in Spain and was coming back into the country to oppose Franco. That was a threat to Franco and my most recent target. He didn’t want his regular men to handle it.”
“Who did you work for in Spain?”
“I worked for President Franco’s security officer General Juan Carlos.”
“I still think you’re lying about Spain, but we’ll come back to that topic in a moment.”
While Mashburn was speaking, Wade had checked his notes and the recorder. Wade continued to break up the sequence of his questions.
“Who do you work for in the U.S.?”
“That’s a good question. I’m not trying to be evasive. I’m officially undercover operations for CID, but I’ve been farmed out. I’m now reporting to a handler in Brussels. I just know him through his code name, Condor. I no longer have any direct contact with CID in the U.S.”
Wade felt Mashburn’s last answers were mostly truthful, or he at least was sticking to a well-rehearsed cover story. Wade changed the direction of his questions again to ones he already knew the answers for, to see if Mashburn was lying.
“Have you ever been to Fort Benning?”
“No, I don’t think so. Is that in Alabama or Georgia?”
“You’re lying to me again.”
“No, I just can’t remember.”
“Well, we’re going to have to improve your memory. I have something here on the table that might help. I’ve got three strange-looking unmarked medicine vials that I found in your refrigerator, along with some syringes from the kitchen drawer. One vial has a clear liquid in it. The second has a cloudy gray solution, and the third has a milky white solution in it.
“Since you claim you’re not lying, and I don’t trust what you’ve already said, I can’t trust you to tell me what’s in these vials. I think the only way to find out what they contain is to do some experimentation. I’m loading a syringe with the cloudy gray solution now and will soon be injecting it into you.”
“If that injection doesn’t do anything to help your memory, we’ll try the next one. I think by the time we get to the third one, perhaps your memory will improve — or you won’t be around to worry about it.”
“You can’t do that. The solution will kill me.”
“That sounds like a truthful answer.” Wade pressed the end of the needle against Mashburn’s arm, slightly penetrating his skin. “Let me repeat my question about Fort Benning.”
“Wait. Please, don’t inject me. My memory’s coming back.”
Wade removed the prick of the needle from Mashburn’s arm. “I’m listening. You were saying you remember being at Fort Benning?”
“Yes, I was on assignment for CID doing surveillance on Lockhart while he was in training there.”
“What did your assignment entail?”
“At first I was just there to keep an eye on him.”
“You’re lying to me again, Mashburn. I’m loading the second syringe, this time with the clear solution. Perhaps it’s only penicillin and will cure any bacterial infection you have.”
“No, it’s not penicillin. Don’t do that. It will kill me!”
Wade saw Mashburn tighten his grip on the chair, waiting to feel the fluid enter his body. Mashburn’s fear caused him to soak his pants, confirming the solutions were definitely not penicillin.
“If you continue to play these games with me, you’ll soon die a horrible death by injection. I’m no medic, but it’s probably a lot worse than a quick round to the head. Now tell me your entire assignment with Lockhart at Fort Benning.”
“Lockhart made the overture to a CID operative that he wanted to be paid to keep quiet about the drug deals in Vietnam. I was initially sent to observe him and approach him with a deal to pay him money from the government in exchange for remaining silent.”
“That wasn’t the real deal, though, was it? To pay him off?”
“At first it was. But then I saw and reported how unstable Lockhart had become. I was ordered to get him alone and make the payment, and then eliminate him and make it look like a suicide.”
Wade placed the needle into Mashburn’s arm so that he felt the point break his skin. Mashburn tightened his grip on the armchair, shaking as he agonized over what the drug would do to his body. The details and medical effects of each drug were well known to Mashburn; he had administered them and been around to see too many people die at his hands from their use. He didn’t want to die that way.
Visualizing the effects of the drugs, Mashburn clenched his jaw, knowing he would soon be paralyzed. Unlike Lockhart’s injection, this one would go beyond paralysis, spreading its painful venom into his organs until his heart stopped. Mashburn’s stomach convulsed and he gagged, almost vomiting in his hood.
“How were you going to eliminate him?”
Mashburn coughed. “I was assigned to head the death squad. I administrated the first drug in some booze we had for a celebration drink that knocked Lockhart out. Then I injected him with the second drug, which paralyzed him without killing him. It took the other guys to set him up in the chair so it looked like he killed himself with his own gun. Those were my orders.”
“I take it you’re familiar with the effects of these drugs?”
“Yes.”
“How many people have you killed using some form of drug?”
“I’ve never killed anyone unless ordered to do so. I’m not sure of the exact number… maybe thirty or more? If it makes any difference to you, I still see their faces and hear their screams at night.”
“If you have such nightmares, why do you still do it?”
“I can’t get out. I know too much, and there are too many people in power above me to allow me to leave. I’d be dead in a matter of hours.”
“Do any of these vials contain the same substance you used on Lockhart?”
“No, not exactly. The one with the white milky substance is similar. That one paralyzes you first, but goes on to kill you. Lockhart’s solution doesn’t kill you. That drug paralyzes its victim for about two hours.”
Mashburn took in two large gulps of air before continuing. “All the vials you have there will kill you, but in different ways, to avoid postmortem detection or tracing. After those solutions are injected and do their damage, they dissipate over time after you’re dead. That’s why there has to be a delay of several days before an autopsy can be done.”
“So why was Lockhart targeted at Fort Benning?”
“Lockhart applied to return to active duty in Vietnam. That’s why he was taking a refresher course at Benning. CID knew Lockhart was unstable and probably wouldn’t survive his next tour of duty. But they had to make sure he didn’t.”
“So why not wait until he got to Vietnam?”
“Because of how mentally unstable he had become. They thought he was ready to go off and kill someone or tell someone about the Vietnam drug deals before he shipped out. They couldn’t take that chance.”
“What happened next?”
“During a night exercise, I lost control of him. He went off on his own, believing that his classmates were out to get him. He almost killed one of them. I think he was also suspicious of me. He knew me from Vietnam and thought the other guys worked for me. After the night incident, he went AWOL. CID felt they had to act. Before he broke off that night, I told him I thought I could get him the money he wanted from my commanding officer to keep things quiet. After the exercise, he contacted me by phone at the barracks. He wanted to meet at the Candlelight Motel about forty miles from the base to get his money.”
“Then what happened?”
“My instructions were to give him the money, and then terminate him.”