The Aegis Conspiracy: A Novel. Galen Winter

liked to engage his visitors in friendly conversation. It gave him an opportunity to observe their reactions. It also created a proper atmosphere. A man spoke more freely and, possibly, more honestly if he were comfortable and satisfied that he was talking to a friendly sort of guy.

      Den was capable of playing small talk games, but, today, he had no time for them. In his mood, small talk was an irritant. He wanted to know why he had been called to Teddy Smith’s office. He expected to be offered a job he didn’t want and had already decided to refuse. He would resign. He would look for a job with some international personnel security outfit. With his Spanish language ability and background, he would be a natural to act as a bodyguard for an American businessman working in some troubled part of Latin America.

      “You may be right about the press, Teddy,” was Den’s non-committal observation. Then, in order to end the interview as quickly as possible, he abruptly changed the subject. “There are three people in your waiting room. I’m sure they have important matters to talk about, but your secretary let me in first. You’ve uncovered the name on my birth certificate and you know my preference for single malt - right down to the brand. Why all the attention, Teddy? Why am I here?”

      Teddy Smith was tired of watching Senators and Representatives impose restraints on the Central Intelligence Agency. At one time, if diplomatic maneuvers proved unsuccessful, the CIA could be expected to be used as an instrument for executing foreign policy. The men who, only a few decades ago engineered the overthrow of Mossadiq in Iran and Arbenz in Guatemala would no longer recognize the Agency.

      Unequivocally, but quietly, Teddy objected to “Sense of Congress” resolutions, Presidential mandates and Agency policies that shackled the hands and sometimes threatened to punish the men who planned and carried out covert operations. He watched as the Agency’s purpose was slowly changing into one which, he was sure, would ultimately be limited to the collection of information. Satellites, foreign newspaper articles, reports from friends in foreign countries and gossip from embassy parties might, he feared, become the sole arena of CIA activity.

      The Agency’s constant development into an ever larger and more complex bureaucracy also discouraged him. Bureaucracy and timely action were seldom close companions. Teddy came to believe an organization’s effectiveness was inversely proportional to its size. His opinion was shared by many of the Agency’s old timers.

      As the Central Intelligence Agency grew and changed, Teddy became more restive. When he was a field agent, certain amounts of discretion were allowed. An agent was expected to use his imagination. A rule might be bent a bit or even fractured if the result advanced the mission. Now it seemed as if procedure was far more important that substance.

      You might be able to lie or cheat or blackmail to get information, but you couldn’t torture. Everybody knew that. But nobody really knew exactly what constituted torture. Apparently, the definition of torture was subject was to change, depending upon the gravity of the situation.

      The old adage of the wild West: “Shoot first and ask questions later” was, Teddy believed, changed into: “Ask a lot of questions first, analyze the hell out of the answers, have some Congressional Committee meet in closed session a few times, leak the deliberations to the press and then think about if you should shoot and what sort of weapon you should use and what you should shoot at.” Teddy became convinced it was time for someone to reverse the trend. Many of the CIA’s old timers were likewise convinced.

      And now Denver Clark sat before him, asking why he was here.

Chapter 3

      On paper, Den Clark was the kind of man Teddy sought. He was a SEAL, trained to handle himself in difficult situations. He was tough and resourceful. He was battle tested. He had courage, a fact that was amply proven by his record. During this short interview, Clark had already shown he was perceptive as well as smart.

      Teddy’s problem involved uncovering Den’s core beliefs? How do you find if a man is trustworthy? Teddy would have to make decisions based on the way Den reacted when he got an answer to his question: “Why am I here?”

      Teddy took a Dominican Republic cigar from a humidor atop his desk. “Care for one?” he asked. Den shook his head. Teddy lighted the cigar. He studied its glowing end and, satisfied, blew a smoke ring. “Of course you want to know why you’re here and, of course, I’m going to tell you.”

      Teddy began by disapproving politicians’ interference in CIA affairs. “It hamstrings the Agency’s ability to effectively perform its functions. For decades they cut our budgets,” he complained. “They nearly destroyed our on-the-ground sources of information,” he continued. “We used to get solid reports from felons, perverts, prostitutes, drug dealers, disreputable types of all sorts. They weren’t nice people so the politicians told us we couldn’t use them.

      “As a result, we had no accurate information about the Ayatollah Khomeini when our politicians managed to get us thrown out of Iran. We didn’t even know the man our politicians put in power after that Haitian mess. He was an admirer of Castro. Look at the problems we’ve had in Iraq trying to get local informants.

      “We used the Mafia to keep the docks operating in World War II. The OSS used them in Italy, too. That’s all changed. Now our people on the ground have to be squeaky clean. Remember when some fools believed we could get all the information we needed through satellite surveillances?

      “These same idiots are busy burying us under layer upon layer of bureaucracy. Defense, State, the military, the Agency - we all had intelligence operations. Now we are magically interrelated. It’s a classic example of the strange and clearly insane belief that ‘change’ means ‘progress.’

      “You don’t keep secrets by telling them to ten governmental agencies and five congressional committees. Hell, Den, those guys would tell a reporter everything they knew if they could get even the slightest personal advantage from it.

      “And that’s not all. Lines of communication are confused. The connections between authority and responsibility are vague. Who reports to who?” Teddy asked without expecting an answer. “Who decides what projects are to be pursued? The Defense Department? Those wimps at State? Damned politicians.”

      Den had heard it all before. It was a common subject in CIA casual conversation. There may have been some truth to the complaints. On the other hand, they may have been based on nothing more than the Belt Line bureaucrat’s nightmarish fear of losing turf.

      “And that stupid Executive Order 12333,” Teddy said as he blew another smoke ring and carefully watched for Den’s reaction. “Isn’t that one for the books?” Then he was silent. Den knew Executive Order 12333 forbade CIA involvement in assassinations and he also knew Teddy was waiting for a response.

      Again, Den’s comment was non-committal. “Twelve-three-three-three is one of the rules of the game and I suppose we have to live with it,” he said. But he thought: “I wish Smith would get to the point.”

      “Do you really think so?” Teddy asked. “Let me ask you a question, Den. Suppose someone high up in the Agency - I mean very high up in the Agency - asked you to develop a plan calculated to cause the death of a person not only antagonistic to our national interests, but, to use that hard-to-define phrase, ‘a clear and present danger.’ Suppose you were told you would he officially disowned and castigated if your plan ever came to light. You could expect no help or support from anyone. What would you do?”

      Teddy immediately held up his hand, silencing any answer Den might make, and added, “Let me make my proposition more concrete. If it was 1938 and Executive Order 12333 was in effect, would you create and execute an unofficial and unauthorized plan designed to kill, say, Adolf Hitler?”

      “Now there’s a loaded question if I ever heard one,” Den thought. “Well, Teddy expects an answer and I’ll give him one.”