Chapter 1
CIA HEADQUARTERS
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA
2142 HOURS
Despite the lateness of the hour, Grace Tunny-Baxter’s personal assistant was still at his desk in her outer office. She hated that, but knew he wouldn’t leave until she did. She also hated the fact that her security detail had to remain in the building while she was here instead of going home to their families, but right now this is where she had to be because this was her fiefdom, her center of power, at least for the moment, until the political winds shifted against her. And at least while she was Director of the United States Central Intelligence Agency (still colloquially referred to by insiders as The DCI), she had a solemn duty to perform, and here tonight, she would do that.
The intercom buzzed and brought the Director out of her mind and back to the present. It was her assistant, Taylor.
“Director, he’s here,” Taylor said in his usual crisp tone, despite the hour and no matter how long he had been on duty. About sixteen hours already today.
“Thank you, Taylor,” Tunny-Baxter said, leaning forward and pressing the intercom button. “Please let him come right in.”
She released the button, took a deep breath, then pushed up from her desk in her seventh floor office in the Original Headquarters Building (OHB) at the complex now officially known as the George Herbert Walker Bush Intelligence Center. Two seconds later there was a sharp double knock and one of the double oak doors opened.
“Come in, Kevin,” she said to the early fifties black man in the doorway. “Please, and thank you for coming over here this late. I’m sorry to tear you away from your family tonight.”
“Not a problem, Director,” said Kevin Mada as he walked in and shut the door behind him. “One kid’s been out on her own for a couple years now, the other had a date tonight, and Angie is working on a project in her home-office. I was just going to sit in the den and read until bedtime.”
The DCI smiled and came around the desk, taking her Director of Security by the arm and leading him to the sitting area to the left of the desk, a black leather sofa and matching wing chairs. She sat on the sofa and nodded that he should do the same.
Kevin could tell the Director was out of sorts, and he was pretty sure he knew why. All one had to do was turn on the news every day, if they were masochists, and in about five seconds they would understand why anyone in Washington, especially someone in the position of a political appointee in the current White House administration, would be antsy. But Director Tunny-Baxter was a tough cookie, too, and understood her position and her duty, and no matter what else was going on, she would always stay true to the values that had guided her life these past sixty-three years.
Kevin settled and waited, and after a minute, Grace Tunny-Baxter turned to him and smiled.
“Angie was just promoted at work, right? The Bryce Group?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s now Managing Director for all their International Operations. A boatload of responsibility, but if anyone can handle it, my wife can. I have no doubt of that. Her staff has increased by fifty percent, too, and right now she’s working hard almost every day. Once she gets it sorted she can ease up. And immediately following that, I plan to take her away for a long weekend somewhere with a really nice spa.”
The Director smiled again.
“In addition to being an excellent Director of Security, you appear to be an excellent husband as well, Kevin. I may have to set up a lunch between you and my mister.”
They both chuckled and then Tunny-Baxter waved a hand. “Just kidding. George is a wonderful husband, albeit a little absentminded sometimes. Been a long while since he surprised me with a long weekend at a spa. But anyway…”
Suddenly the Director’s mood turned serious and her eyes bore directly in on Kevin’s.
“Kevin, I need you to do something for me,” she began. “And I need you to handle it personally. This is going to be a limited details and limited access operation. Others below you will have to be involved, but a good deal of what is really going on will have to be kept from them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said without hesitation. This despite not knowing what the Director was about to order him to do. He’d been in the CIA for thirty years and had made it to senior middle management (despite his best efforts to the contrary), and was no stranger to partially in the dark operations. Sometimes completely in it.
Tunny-Baxter continued.
“I should first tell you that as we speak, in my conference room waiting are the Inspector General, Imelda Friedman, and the General Counsel, Antonio Strauss. In a little while I will ask them to come in. Regulations require that they be present before I can provide some information to you. The reason why will become clear shortly.”
Now Kevin’s curiosity was really piqued, but he retained his calm composure as Tunny-Baxter went on.
“You are no doubt aware of the political situation in Washington right now. The current impeachment investigation against the president for abuse of power in regards to what some have termed a rogue foreign policy for personal political gain.”
Kevin nodded.
Tunny-Baxter sighed.
“You are probably also aware that this all got going following a whistleblower complaint to the Inspector General of the Intelligence Community that the White House and Department of Justice initially tried to stop from getting to Congress.”
Another head nod.
“And the speculation that the whistleblower is a member of this agency.”
“Yes,” Kevin finally spoke.
Tunny-Baxter took a breath, released it slowly, glanced away briefly.
“Officially nothing has been confirmed regarding the identity or the employment of the whistleblower,” she said slowly, looking at him once again. “But I am now going to confirm one thing to you. The whistleblower is a member of the Agency.”
Suddenly Kevin’s pulse beat just a little bit quicker, and for some odd reason, on the inside he was actually smiling, feeling just a tiny bit of pride.
The Director continued.
INSTEAD OF INVITING THE IG and GC into her office, Director Tunny-Baxter and Kevin joined them in the small conference room attached to her office suite. Kevin was well familiar with the two watchdogs of his agency and had worked closely with both of them on more than one occasion. Both were in business attire and looked fresh, as if they had been at home as well when summoned and had time to prepare. Kevin shook hands with Imelda Friedman and Antonio Strauss and then the four of them sat down.
“For the record, I have confirmed for Kevin that the whistleblower is an Agency employee, but I have not disclosed their identity yet. I have also mentioned that in ordinary circumstances I would not know the identity of the whistleblower and by law could not seek to learn it, but these are far from ordinary circumstances. Also, the whistleblower first brought their concerns to Tony and Imelda before going to the IC-IG because regulations require the referral, and they were Agency, after all. Ordinarily, the identity of the whistleblower would remain with them and the IG of the IC, but due to the current circumstances, and concerns for the safety of the whistleblower, by congressional mandate, this agency has been given sole responsibility for protecting the whistleblower and their identity until the matter is resolved. Thus the necessity of your involvement, Kevin, as Director of the Office of Security for the CIA.”
And lucky me, Kevin thought as he took in what his boss was telling him.
“I am going to tell you the whistleblower’s name now, but you will not tell anyone else, is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“For the purposes of your protective operation, assigned personnel will, of course have to know who they are protecting, but they cannot under any circumstances be told why. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You will design a plausible cover story and maintain direct oversight of the protective operation from start to finish, is that understood?”
“It is,” Kevin said.
The Director turned to the General Counsel.
“Tony?”
Strauss removed a single page from the leather portfolio on the table in front of him and slid it across to Kevin who picked it up and read it, then grinned.
“Fucking lawyers,” he said under his breath, smiling and taking a pen from inside his jacket. “Always gotta make sure they can sue or prosecute you later.”
“That’s why they pay us the medium-big bucks in government service,” said Tony Strauss with a grin of his own, taking the signed paper back and replacing it in his portfolio.
“Now that that’s out of the way,” said Tunny-Baxter, glancing at Imelda Friedman. “Would you care to do the honors, Madam Inspector General?”
Friedman adjusted her black-framed bifocals and gave the Director a rueful expression, then turned to Kevin and said a name, a name that was quite familiar to him, and as he considered this name, the person and the position they had occupied at the White House until relatively recently, it did not surprise him one bit.
“You don’t look surprised?” Tunny-Baxter said curiously.
Kevin looked at her.
“Not really,” he said. “Makes sense, actually, knowing this person and the job they had until a month or so ago.”
“Let’s hope the White House doesn’t reason it out that quickly, and then blab it to FOX News,” the IG said drearily. “Even though it would be a crime under both the Whistleblower Protection Act as well as the Intelligence Identities Protection Act, I really don’t think this administration or their media and congressional allies would care.”
“But I would,” said the General Counsel of the CIA. “And would do everything in my power to see that people got prosecuted for the disclosure. It might take until there was new leadership at the Justice Department, which can’t come soon enough in my opinion, but I’m a very patient man when I have to be.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” said the Director without much enthusiasm. “But if it does, Kevin, your work will become that much more difficult.”
He nodded.
“Yeah, but it’s the nature of the work, not to mention the world we live in now.”
Tunny-Baxter nodded.
“And I’ll bet you’re already formulating a plan in your head, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” he confirmed. “And with your permission, Director, I intend to order a review of all of our current security plans for senior Agency personnel, yourself and the IG and GC as well. If this thing gets really ugly, your names and faces could begin showing up in nasty tweets or on the news and who knows what might happen if some Red Hat[6] happens to spot you out somewhere one night with your families.”
And if they weren’t already wearing serious expressions before that, the three Agency executives suddenly paled. The thing about being a security officer on any level is that it’s your job to think about all the worst things that could happen and try to come up with ways of preventing or at least minimizing those threats. Most people didn’t have to think like that, and bully for them.
Kevin Mada was not most people.
He was The Doss[7].
