Assumed Identity

7

As the woman talked, Buchanan finished one beer and opened another. He bunched up his sandwich wrappers, putting them in a paper bag. He stifled a yawn. “This sounds more like a history lecture than a story. Remember, I’m assigned to Fort Bragg. I know all about the specifics of the failed hostage rescue and the establishment of Delta Force.”

“I’m sure you know much more than that,” Holly McCoy said. “But let’s take this one step at a time.”

Buchanan shrugged. As he listened to the clack-clack-clack of the swaying train, he gestured for her to continue.

“One of the first problems the Special Operations Division decided to deal with was transportation,” Holly said. “It had taken Delta too long to get into Iran. The aircraft hadn’t been adequate to the task. Too many channels in the military had needed to be informed about where and when Delta was going. Obviously some streamlining was in order. Delta needed to get to its targets as quickly and secretly as possible and with the best means. That’s why Task Force One Hundred and Sixty and Seaspray were formed.”

Again Buchanan needed all his discipline not to show how startled he was by the mention of those code names. While his stomach muscles hardened, he pretended another yawn. “Sorry. I don’t want you to think you’re boring me. Go ahead and finish your beer.”

Holly brushed back another strand of red hair, gave him an irritated look, and continued. “Task Force One Hundred and Sixty was a classified Army unit that provided aviation for Delta as well as Special Forces and the Rangers. It had the big Chinook cargo helicopters, as well as various utility choppers and gunships. Seaspray, though, was a totally off-the-books, covert Army aviation unit that bought aircraft through civilian intermediaries, secretly modified the planes with state-of-the-art equipment-motor silencers, infrared radar, rocket launchers, that sort of thing-and used the planes for small-scale secret missions. The civilian intermediaries who Seaspray used were provided by the CIA, and some of the work that Seaspray did was for another civilian agency, the Drug Enforcement Administration. That’s where the trouble started, I think. Civilians and the military working together but hiding that cooperation from the Pentagon and from Congress.”

Buchanan sipped more of his second beer and glanced at his watch. “It’s almost midnight. If there’s a point to this, I suggest you get to it-before I fall asleep.”

“I doubt there’s much risk of that,” Holly said. “In fact, I think you’re a lot more interested than you’re pretending.”

“Interested in you. Except I prefer my dates to be less talkative.”

“Pay attention,” Holly said. “The next problem for the Special Operations Division was obtaining intelligence. When the Shah fell from power in Iran in 1979, the CIA lost most of its assets there. During the Iran hostage crisis, the Agency wasn’t able to furnish much reliable information about where the hostages were being held and how they were being guarded. Obviously, Delta Force needed details about the situations it would have to face. But the intelligence it received had to have a military perspective to it. So the ISA was formed. The Intelligence Support Activity.”

Again Buchanan felt his muscles cramp. Jesus, he thought. Where the hell is this woman getting her information?

“ISA was another secret military unit,” Holly said. “Its purpose was to send soldiers, who pretended to be civilians, into emergency situations in foreign countries-a terrorist crisis at an airport, for example. There, they conducted reconnaissance of possible Delta targets and not only provided intelligence but, if necessary, tactical support. This was something new. An operational military unit working under civilian cover and providing the sort of information that the CIA normally does. Commandos who were spies. The ISA was so unorthodox and hush-hush that most top officials in the Pentagon didn’t know anything about it. In theory, it didn’t exist.”

Buchanan opened his third beer. He was going to close his eyes soon and pretend that the alcohol had put him to sleep.

“Pay attention,” Holly repeated.

“I am. I am.”

“You’re going to like this part. The Special Operations Division discovered it had a problem. How was it going to keep all these secret units truly secret, even from the Pentagon, which has never been fond of unconventional tactics? The answer was to establish a security unit that itself was secret. Its code name was Yellow Fruit. Again military personnel used civilian cover. They dressed as civilians. They pretended to operate civilian businesses. But in reality, they were providing security for Seaspray, the ISA, and several other covert military units. It was Yellow Fruit’s job to make sure that everything stayed hidden.”

Holly studied him, waiting for a reaction.

Buchanan set down his beer bottle. He assumed his most judicious expression. “Fascinating.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“Well, the operation certainly must have succeeded,” Buchanan said, “assuming that what you just told me isn’t a fantasy. The reason I know it succeeded is I’ve never heard of Yellow Fruit. Or the Intelligence Support Activity. Or Seaspray. Or Task Force One Hundred and Sixty.”

“You know, for the first time I think you might be telling the truth.”

“You’re suggesting I’d lie to you?”

“In this case, maybe not. Those units were compartmentalized. Often members of one group didn’t know about the other groups. For that matter, the ISA was compartmentalized within itself. Some members didn’t know who their fellow members were. Plus, Seaspray and Yellow Fruit were eventually exposed and disbanded. They don’t exist anymore. By those names, at least. I know that Seaspray was later temporarily reformed. using the code name Quasar Talent.”

“Then if they don’t exist. .”

“Some of them,” Holly said. “Others are still doing business as usual. And others have been newly created, much more secret, much more compartmentalized, much more ambitious Scotch and Soda, for example.”