
              Conspiracy Nation -- Vol. 9  Num. 12
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                    ("Quid coniuratio est?")
 
 
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                        LIFE AS PEGASUS
                         I Had a Dream
 
                         By Gene Tatum
 
I had a dream.  A dream so intense, a dream so real, that I could
swear that it was true.  Have you ever experienced such an event?
I have often wondered  what  factors  or group of events initiate
such intense dreams.  Perhaps media coverage of an event  prompts
the  thought  process  in  a  particular direction, or perhaps an
innocent comment heard during the  course  of a day initiates the
dream.  Some would  be  so  bold  as  to  boast  that  it  was  a
spiritually  guided premonition of events to come.  After hearing
of my  dream,  my  wife  told  me  that  she  thought  it was the
spaghetti and caramel pudding that the prison fed us  for  dinner
that  acted  as  the  catalyst.   Whatever  prompted the dream, I
suddenly found myself flying  ten  feet  above  the ground, in an
armed military  style  helicopter,  chasing  a  radio  signal  in
southern  Mexico.   "Your  target  will  be transmitting on 46.10
MHz," Lt. Col. North said  as  he  briefed the Archer Team.  "Mr.
Nir (speaking of my friend Amiram  "Ami"  Nir)  is  considered  a
renegade by the Mossad and they have asked us to bring him down."
"Are  there  any  further  questions  before  you depart?"  Colby
asked.  That ended the  meeting  that brought four Archer members
and a Pegasus(1) pilot to Southern Mexico.
 
The dream was getting clearer and clearer.  The plan  called  for
the  team  of  Archers  to assassinate Mr. Nir at a packing plant
outside of Morelia, Mexico.  Ami had scheduled a business meeting
at the plant and our intelligence indicated that resistance would
be minimal and  access  optimal.   I  had  just  dropped off "The
Major" (codename for the Archer leader) and was on my way to  the
laager  point  to  await the signal to return to the pick up zone
for the team  when  the  mission  was  complete.   I  smiled as I
thought of the conversation I had with Ami the day after we  were
given the mission.
 
Amiram  Nir  was  the  advisor  on terrorism to the Israeli Prime
Minister.  With those  credentials  it  was  a natural for George
Bush to accept Mr. Nir as his advisor on arms  trading  with  the
terrorist  nations  of  Iran,  Iraq, and Libya.  What Ami did not
know was the involvement of  Bush and others in the manufacturing
of drugs in exchange for weapons throughout the  world.   As  Mr.
Nir  worked  with  Vice  President  Bush,  and  Oliver  North, an
Assistant to the  National  Security  Advisor  to Mr. Reagan, his
involvement in Bush and North's  drug  manufacturing  enterprise,
though  unintentional,  grew.   Amiram  Nir, a/k/a Pat Weber, had
been involved with Mr. Bush  since  1977 in various projects.  It
would be an understatement to say that the ex-director of the CIA
and now Vice President of the United States trusted Ami.
 
"What made him want you dead?"  I asked Ami  as  we  planned  his
demise.
 
"I  simply  know  too much and they're scared little boys playing
with real men's  toys,"  Ami  answered  as  he  sipped a glass of
cabernet sauvignon and smiled.  "Now  Chip,  it  must  look  very
real.   Your  Archers  are  much  too  good  to  fool easily," he
bragged.  "They were trained by us you know!"
 
"Yep," I answered.  "Harari told  me of the training, and offered
me a slot.  I passed on it though.  What will you do?"  I  asked.
"Where the hell will you go?  How will you live?"  I wondered out
loud.
 
"That's  my  problem," he answered.  "For now it's important that
these documents, audios and videos, are preserved.  I have made a
copy of everything for you and  have kept the originals.  We must
be patient in their use.  Timing will be critical," he explained.
Together we had reconned the area and found a good site to  stage
a plane crash.  "It's important that my body is not identifiable.
For  this  purpose  I will have an assistant identify my body.  I
will be removed immediately and  all  will be well my friend," he
said as I flew him back to Morelia.  I offered Ami my hand as  we
parted, but received a hug instead.
 
The  plans  were made.  A transmitter on 46.10 MHz was planted in
his luggage  and  he  planted  an  additional  transmitter in his
briefcase.  He then sent the briefcase  to  the  airport  with  a
female  assistant.   She chartered a Cessna T-210 and directed it
to make an emergency landing to  a remote area of ranch land.  As
the Archers attempted to triangulate and confirm the location  of
the  signaling device, a second signal suddenly appeared.  It was
moving at a high  rate  of  speed  toward an airstrip.  The Major
radioed me and advised me of the movement.  He asked me to fly  a
recon  and  attempt  to  locate  the  source.   During my recon I
notified him that it seemed to  be coming from any one of several
people boarding a single-engine aircraft.  He ordered me that  if
it  took off, shoot it down.  I rogered and flew off to the east,
awaiting the departure of the Cessna T-210.  I armed a rocket and
waited.  Ami and I had decided that I would fire a sidewinder and
remotely detonate it so that the missile did not pose a threat to
the T-210.  But the explosion would serve its purpose to fool the
Archers into thinking that  the  plane  was downed.  The aircraft
departed and I took off in  quick  pursuit.   Ten  feet  off  the
ground  I  nosed up and fired the sidewinder.  I then leveled off
and detonated the missile in  mid-air.  I contacted the Major and
advised him that the aircraft was down.  He in  turn  advised  me
they heard the explosion and ordered me to recover all teams.  We
flew  to a high point for a physical recon of the crash site from
a distance.   Happy  with  the  results,  the  Major  ordered the
mission complete.  A 1988 newspaper article stated that the pilot
and a passenger in the front seat were killed.   The  passengers'
name  was  Pat  Weber.   The others aboard the aircraft survived,
including a woman who had  been  traveling  with Mr. Weber as his
secretary.  The bodies of Pat Weber and the  pilot  were  removed
from  the wreckage and taken to local authorities where they were
immediately released without  being  processed (ie. fingerprints,
footprints, and photos).  I heard Ami's laugh echo,  saying  it's
amazing what a thousand American dollars will buy in Mexico.
 
Then, as dreams go, a period of time passed.  More assassinations
of  associates  involved  in  Iran Contra were ordered.  Faces of
those men  floated  in  a  dark  expanse.   First  General Gustov
Alverez, the Honduran Army Chief of Staff in charge of overseeing
the cocaine  manufacturing  facilities  in  Honduras,  came  into
focus.   As  he  faded,  the  face of Enrique Bermudez floated in
front of the General.  Enrique was the Contra commander in charge
of the "North" camps.  These  "North"  camps were named for their
creator, Oliver North, and were capable of producing  three  tons
of  high  grade cocaine a month.  William Casey was the next face
floating in the expanse.   As  the  Director  of  the CIA, it was
Casey who provided a number of  field  agents  and  Langley-based
personnel  to  support  the  drug  facilities.   Agents  like Joe
Fernandez, Claire George,  and  Dewey  Clarriage  were working at
Casey's direction.  The face Amiram Nir was next.   He  asked  me
how $50,000 per year intelligence agents could amass the fortunes
that  Fernandez, George, and Clarriage owned.  He then smiled and
asked if I was enjoying my prison food.  He told me that I should
offer the tapes and documents as  a  trade for my freedom.  I, in
turn, told him that I had offered the tapes and documents  for  a
suitcase  with  $5  million  and  several  "get out of jail free"
cards.  (Monopoly anyone?)  But  those  who  put me here were not
interested.  As Ami's face began to fade into  the  darkness,  he
told  me  it  was time to show the world our little surprise.  He
said,  speaking  of  the  tapes,  documents,  and  videos  we had
compiled through the years, "I'll see you in October my friend."
 
I woke up.  It was so real.
 
Now we're back to the  original  question.   What  do  you  think
causes  these  very  real dreams we experience from time to time?
I'm not sure.   But  it  could  very  well  be,  in  my case, the
anticipation of what's to come caused by a hell of  a  good  seed
planted  years  before among friends and allies finally producing
the first of many blooms.   A  dream?  Or reality?  I'll wait for
Ami's "October Surprise".
 
______________________________________________
(1)Pegasus is the  codename  for  an  international  intelligence
network which is directed by an international board of directors.
 
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Aperi os tuum muto, et causis omnium filiorum qui pertranseunt.
Aperi os tuum, decerne quod justum est, et judica inopem et 
  pauperem.                    -- Liber Proverbiorum  XXXI: 8-9 

