Operation Blue Sapphire Read online

  “And what would that be?”

  “Supply us yourself. In a war this big, a few truckloads of supplies go missing every day. You’re in a perfect position to make it happen and cover the loss. We’re in a position to pay for what we need and in the process make you a very wealthy man.”

  “I can’t take a risk like that, Jacques. I could spend the rest of the war in prison and lose everything I have.”

  “From what you’ve already told me, you’re about to lose everything, anyway. It’s only a matter of time. How do you think your wife is going to react when she’s evicted from your house and put out on the street? I know how she’s going to react. She’s going to blame you for quitting your well-paying job and taking a lesser position with the War Department. When this war is over, you won’t have either a house or a wife and child to go back to. I can help you avoid all that, starting tonight.”

  “I just don’t know. Of course I’d like to help my family, but who’s going to take care of them while I’m in jail? You and Simone? You two will disappear back to Indochina without a trace.”

  “Blaine, I think you’re over estimating the amount of risk involved. For you, it isn’t complicated. The goods will simply be delivered to a different warehouse where they later go missing. No one is going to trace their disappearance back to you. We’re taking all the risk, getting everything to Indochina.”

  “How much are you talking about?” asked Phillips.

  Jacques reached into his coat pocket, removed an envelope and slid it across the table. Looking inside, Phillips saw it was stuffed with American currency, all $100 bills.

  “Consider it a down payment. There’s five thousand dollars there. We’re prepared to give you ten thousand for each truckload of guns. The other half will be paid on delivery. This five thousand should be a start to helping your family back in Michigan.”

  There was a long silence at the table, finally broken by Phillips as he pushed the envelope back across the table to Jacques, “I understand what you want to do and why, I just don’t think I can take the chance.”

  “Do you want more money?” inquired du Maurier.

  “No, it isn’t the amount. I’m afraid the stakes are too high and it’s a gamble I just can’t afford to take.”

  “Think about everything I’ve told you. While you’re thinking about it, excuse me for a moment.” Jacques got up from the table and walked toward the restroom.

  Seeing Jacques leave the table, Zacharie Chevalier did the same and followed him to the men’s room. When they were sure they were alone, Zacharie asked Jacques in French how the evening was progressing.

  “I have his attention, but I don’t think he wants any part of the weapons being used against the communists,” Jacques told Chevalier. “I had to tell him, as there’s no telling what kind of deals other Americans have made with them. He’d find out eventually, anyway. We could be in a worse position if, later on, he stops sending us supplies. The only problem is, I know he’s going to run as fast as he can and send a cable to Washington. When he does, I’m sure he won’t omit a thing. If the Americans are working with the communists, which they probably are, it will only be a matter of time before some authority, either British or American, comes knocking at our doors. I tried appealing to him by telling him we would start a second front, but that didn’t work. I offered him money and that didn’t work, either. I’m surprised. If everything he told me about his financial affairs in Detroit is true, I thought for sure money would appeal to him. I’m beginning to think there’s more to him than just working in supplies.”

  “You did the right thing, Jacques, and you may be correct, he may do more for the Americans than what he’s telling you. If so, we have to limit our exposure and the exposure of the people back home. Keep working on him. But if we can’t win him over, you know what to do,” said Chevalier.

  “I’ll do everything in my power, but I don’t think there will be any changing his mind.”

  “Then the carrots are cooked.”

  “He’ll eat dandelions from the roots,” replied Jacques as he left the men’s room.

  “Blaine, have you given any more thought to what I asked you?” Jacques asked as he sat back down at the table.

  “I have, but if there’s any possibility the weapons will be used against anyone but the Japanese, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I alone cannot be responsible, and I can’t afford to go to prison.”

  Simone bit her lip in disgust rather than lash out at Phillips. She had been to all their group’s meetings and was very much a part of the organization. She had come to the dinner with strong hopes that tonight things would finally go their way. “I guess if you can’t help us, then you can’t,” Simone told Phillips in a subdued voice.

  Jacques could feel the tension at the table and decided to lighten the mood. “I have an idea. Blaine, have you ever met anyone who’s had to live in the communistic utopia? I mean, really put up with it day in and day out, month after month, year after year?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Well, I understand your position and not wanting to take the kind of risk we’re asking you to. I really do. So before you give me a final answer, I have a Russian friend here in Calcutta I’d like you to meet. Maybe after you meet him, you might have a different perspective. Would you be willing to do that?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about tonight? It’s not that late, so I’ll give him a ring. If I can get ahold of him, we can probably meet with him tonight. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to talk with you.”

  Phillips looked at his watch before agreeing. “It’s not going to change anything, but yes, I’ll be happy to meet with him.”

  “Great. I’ll ask Rene if I can use his telephone, if you will excuse me again. I’ll return shortly.”

  Seeing Jacques make his way to the front of the restaurant, Zacharie Chevalier quickly summoned their waiter and paid their bill. The Chevaliers were gone before Jacques returned to his table.

  “We’re in luck,” Jacques said as he sat down. “I was able to reach my friend on the telephone. He would be happy to meet with us. His wife will be there too.”

  “Good, I haven’t seen her in a while,” said Simone.

  “Shall we go?” suggested Jacques.

  “What about the bill?” Phillips asked.

  “It’s all taken care of, my friend.”

  “No, Jacques, you shouldn’t have,” replied Phillips.

  “Listen, it’s our pleasure. This is an important day for you. Besides, even if we can’t do business together, we can still be friends. Remember, you owe me another match at tennis.”

  “As soon as my knee’s better. You gave me a good work out last time,” Phillips replied with a smile.

  On the way out of the restaurant, the three of them thanked the owner for the meal and then proceeded to drive to their meeting with the Russian.

  “Jacques, what do you know about these Russians?” asked Phillips as they traveled through the streets of Calcutta.

  “His name is Rurik Kulikovskaya, and his wife is Jelena. In Russia, he was an engineer. Originally, they’re from Moscow. In the nineteen thirties he was assigned to a construction project in the mountains near the Mongolian boarder. After being there several months, he was able to have his wife join him. One weekend they went for a hike and quietly slipped into Mongolia, taking all the valuables they had with them. Eventually, they made their way here to India and have been here ever since.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “Similar to you. I was introduced through a friend.”

  Jacques drove out of the main part of the city to a secluded area and parked the car on the edge of a large drainage canal. Reaching across to the glove box, he retrieved a flash light. “We go the rest of the way on foot. The canal’s about a hundred meters across, and his house is less than a half a kilometer from here.” Jacques could see the concern on Phillips’ face and added, “The way the roads a
re, to drive to his house would add almost an hour to our trip. But it’s just a short walk from here.”

  Phillips hesitated before getting out of the car. With overcast skies and no moonlight, the area was dark. As he scanned the banks of the canal, in the distance he could make out a faint yellow glow coming from a building on the opposite bank. He had an unsettling feeling but decided to trust the du Mauriers and push forward. He was intrigued by the prospect of meeting the Russian and decided now was the time. “Shall we go?” he said finally.

  The three of them began walking across a narrow wooden bridge, just wide enough for two pushcarts to pass. When they reached the center of the bridge, Jacques stopped and removed his cigarette case from his jacket pocket. First taking one for himself, he offered one to Phillips.

  After exhaling the smoke, Phillips said, “Jacques, I want you to know, I want to meet your Russian friend and I’ll hear him out. Believe me I will, but there’s no possibility of me supplying you with weapons if they’ll be used against the communists. I understand your feelings, and your position, but this war has created strange bedfellows. I simply cannot do it. And I simply cannot take the risk of supplying you on my own.”

  “That’s your final position?”

  “I’m sorry, Jacques, but it is.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry, but I understand.” He gestured to the path in front of them. “Shall we continue?”

  Phillips turned and faced the opposite bank of the canal. His eyes straining through the darkness, looking at the light from the opposite bank, he began to move forward. As Phillips did so, Jacques quietly removed a small .32 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver from under his coat. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb, locking the chamber into place. The click was the last thing Phillips heard, and before he could turn around, Jacques squeezed the trigger, sending the small caliber projectile into the base of Phillips’ skull. The American fell to the bridge’s wooden pavement.

  “Is he dead?” asked an excited Simone.

  Standing over Phillips’ motionless body, Jacques replied, “He should be. If not, he will be as soon as he’s in the canal.”

  “I don’t want to take any chances.” Simone knelt down and checked for a pulse. There was none. “Hurry, Jacques. We need to get out of here. One shot in the night won’t raise much suspicion, but we need to get going just in case someone’s overly curious and comes to investigate.”

  Jacques searched Phillips’ body and retrieved his car keys, wallet, identification, and a .380 caliber Colt Pocket Hammerless pistol from under his suit coat. He held up the pistol for Simone to see. “When we leave, we’ll have to examine his identification very closely. I had a feeling he knew more, and was more involved, than what he was letting on. A man who fills out forms shouldn’t be carrying a pistol.”

  Sure there was nothing left on Phillips which would identify him, Jacques pushed his body over the bridge and into the darkness of the water into the canal below. “You’re right, we should get out of here now. We’ll go get his car and park it in a bad part of town, a long way from the café. Let’s get going.”

  Simone, still transfixed by Phillips’ body, now floating in the canal, took one last look, then she and Jacques turned and, in a fast pace, walked off the bridge to their car and quickly began the drive back into Calcutta.

  “What do we do now?” Simone asked as Jacques began to drive.

  “We keep working on our other contacts.”

  “I hope killing the American was necessary.”

  “It was, Simone, we had to. We have too much at risk, both here and at home. No way we put it all in jeopardy by letting him live. He would have run as fast as he could to his superiors and told them everything about us. It would have only been a matter of time before either the British or Americans showed up at our door. First here and then in Indochina. We couldn’t let that happen.”

  Simone was silent for a moment and then asked, “Jacques, what’s the population of the United States?”

  “I think over one hundred million. Don’t worry, he won’t be missed.”

  “That’s why I’m worried. If he turns out to be more than just a bureaucrat, they can afford to send more. And they will. If they do, God help us, because I know it won’t be good.”

  Captain Emma Thompson sat at a Canadian airfield in southern Ontario waiting for her flight to be called. As she watched the arctic winds sweep a light dusting of snow across the tarmac outside the terminal, she thought about the telegram she had just received from her OSS superior, Colonel Richard Wyman.

  ‘Congratulations on completing your training,’ the telegram had read. ‘Report to my office in Washington D.C., first available transport. Urgent!’

  Of course it’s urgent, Emma thought. Since Wyman had plucked her out of a glorified Army clerical pool at Fort Benning, Georgia, to become an agent for the Office of Strategic Services, the secret unit he was helping his friend General William Donovan organize, it had all been urgent. Soon after completing covert operations training in Maryland, she had been thrust into an OSS mission to Cuba with Jimmy Bunnel and Henri LaCroix. Now, having completed her training at Camp X, she knew another mission had to be in the works. She would be reporting to Washington with new skills in weapons, explosives, and sabotage, all of which fit her new job description: assassin.

  That same Sunday afternoon Colonel Wyman was at his desk in his E Street office in Washington, D.C. The previous day General Donovan had personally given him a mission of extreme importance. It was a problem which, if not resolved quickly, could have monumental consequences. While thinking it through, he knew Emma would be perfect for the job. Also at his disposal were James Bunnel and Henri LaCroix. The three of them had worked well together, and he decided to team them up again. He began reviewing his handwritten notes.

  Thompson, Emma, born Los Angeles, California. Recruited from the Army, rank of Captain. Spent two years high school in Paris. One year at University of Mexico, Mexico City. Returned to the States to University of Southern California; BA in Business, minors in French and Spanish. Went on to receive MBA from University of Southern California. Last mission, was team leader. After mission, volunteered to go to Camp X, Ontario, for further training. Received exceptional rating from instructors in Canada, including, ‘Very congenial, which gives her an unsuspecting potential of being very lethal.’ In training, excelled in use of edged weapons and firearms. Speaks fluent French with Parisian accent; proficient in Spanish. Marital status: Widow; husband killed in automobile accident.

  Bunnel, James, born Seattle, Washington. Graduated University of Washington, BA in History and Anthropology. Specialized in ancient civilizations. Recruited from the Army. Current rank, Lieutenant. Passed Special Operations training at top of class. Fast learner, gets things accomplished, is innovative. Working knowledge of Polish and Slavic languages. Marital Status: Single.

  LaCroix, Henri, born Delcambre, Vermilion Parish, Louisiana. Was a commercial fisherman; father and brothers also commercial fishermen and shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico. Recruited from the Coast Guard at rank of Chief Petty Officer. Passed Special Operations training. Surprising aptitude with, and liking of, explosives. Speaks fluent French and has excellent seamanship skills. Marital status: Single.

  Colonel Wyman sat back in his chair and thought about his choices for the mission. All three know each other, like each other, and work well together, he thought. More importantly, Bunnel and LaCroix respect Emma and don’t question orders from her. So putting her in charge again won’t be an issue. It’s a good fit, and even if I had more time, I’d end up with the same roster. I personally recruited all three of them. I know they’ll do everything they can to accomplish their mission.”

  His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. It was his secretary, Doris Blanchard. She had been with him for years in New York in his private banking firm, and Wyman brought her with him to Washington over his partner’s protests. She was not only good as an executive secre
tary, she was one of a handful of people Colonel Wyman trusted implicitly.

  “Colonel, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a Captain Thompson here to see you.”

  “Are the others here, too?”

  “Yes, Colonel, they are.”

  “Very well. Send in Captain Thompson. I’ll bring in the others after I debrief her. And Doris, why don’t you go home today and enjoy what’s left of the afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I made a fresh pot of coffee for you and the others. I’ll bring it in before I go. If you need me later, just ring, and I’ll come back. Colonel, if you don’t mind me saying, after you meet with these people this afternoon, why don’t you take the rest of the day off, as well. You’ve been working around the clock for weeks. You won’t be any good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. Trust me, the war will be here Monday morning.”

  “Duly noted, Doris. I’ll think about. For now, please show Captain Thompson in.”

  A moment later Doris softly knocked on the door and announced Captain Thompson. She then excused herself and, as she was leaving, said, “Remember Colonel, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Colonel Wyman was eager to start the meeting so he motioned for Emma to sit down. As he sat back down at his desk, he slid a large glass ashtray across his desk toward her. “Feel free to smoke.” As Emma removed her gold lighter and cigarette case from her purse, he began the conversation. “You’re looking well, Captain. I see you survived your Canadian adventure.”

  “I did, Colonel. A few bumps and bruises, but I survived.”

  Wyman wasted no time getting to the point, “It is my understanding that you did very well there and learned a lot. You had good teachers. The English have a big lead on us. They’ve been engaged in covert activities for centuries.”

  “Colonel, I went through training with the Army, but when I went to Ontario, I had no idea how well the English had perfected the craft. The training I received was absolutely amazing. It was brutal, but amazing,”