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THE ORGANIZATION, HIDDEN INSIDE THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY AND CALLED THE OFFICE OF ORGANIZATIONAL ANALYSIS, WAS HEADED BY A LEGENDARY ARMY SPECIAL FORCES OFFICER, LIEUTENANT COLONEL C. G. CASTILLO, AND STAFFED WITH PERSONNEL, SOME DESCRIBED BY INTELLIGENCE INSIDERS AS “UNSAVORY,” FROM THE CIA, THE FBI, AND THE ARMED FORCES.
THE ORGANIZATION APPARENTLY OPERATED WITHOUT CONGRESSIONAL OVERSIGHT, DID NOT ANSWER TO THE DIRECTOR OF NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE, NOR MAINTAIN LIAISON WITH OTHER INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES, AND WAS APPARENTLY FUNDED BY THE PRESIDENT’S “CONFIDENTIAL FUNDS.”
WHEN IT APPEARED TO THE OOA THAT THE CIA WAS ABOUT TO BUNGLE THEIR ATTEMPT TO CAUSE THE DEFECTION OF TWO VERY SENIOR RUSSIAN SVR OFFICERS IN AUSTRIA, THE OOA SNATCHED THE RUSSIANS FROM THE CIA IN VIENNA AND TOOK THEM TO AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION OUTSIDE THE UNITED STATES.
PRESIDENT CLENDENNEN———
BREAK MORE TO FOLLOW
“Sonofabitch!” the President said. He’d said it twice while reading the story, and a third time now that he’d finished.
Jack Parker announced: “He says, Mr. President, that he will give us seventy-two hours to respond.”
“Sonofabitch!” the President said again. “Porky, the way this goddamn thing is written, it sounds as if I’m responsible. It doesn’t even mention my predecessor, goddamn him to hell.”
Parker, who wondered if the President was calling the wrath of the Almighty upon the head of his predecessor, or on that of Mr. Whelan, did no
t reply.
The President said nothing for sixty seconds, during which time the contortions of his face and the somewhat angry tapping of his fingers on his desk suggested he was deep in thought.
“Deny it, Porky,” he said finally. “Tell the sonofabitch to publish anything he wants. We’ll just deny everything. I didn’t know a goddamn thing about the OOA or Castillo until Ambassador Stupid walked into the Oval Office the day after my predecessor, that sonofabitch, dropped dead. Just deny any knowledge. What’s he going to do, ask Castillo, for Christ’s sake?”
“Mr. President, I don’t think that will work,” Parker said.
“Why not?”
Parker handed him another sheet of paper.
“Mr. Whelan said he thought you might ... What he said, sir, was that our trying to stonewall wouldn’t bother him at all; that it was always a better story when you can prove the White House lied. He said it was only because of his admiration for you that he was giving you the chance to see what he’s going to write, so it wouldn’t come as a sucker punch. And so far as asking Colonel Castillo is concerned, Mr. Whelan says the only way to keep him from publishing would be for Colonel Castillo, personally, to convince him he had his facts wrong. I had the impression, sir, that he thinks we have Colonel Castillo and are hiding him someplace where the press can’t get to him.”
As Clendennen looked at the sheet, Parker added, “Then he gave me that, which he says he will publish if we deny any of the facts in the first story.”
“Sonofabitch!” Clendennen said again as he read:
BY C. HARRY WHELAN, JR.
COPYRIGHT 2007
WORLDWIDE RIGHTS RESERVED
SLUG: FORMER CIA STATION CHIEF IN VIENNA CONFIRMS “PRESIDENTIAL CIA” STOLE TWO VIP RUSSIAN DEFECTORS FROM HER; SAYS IT COST HER HER JOB
WASHINGTON—(INSERT DATE) ELEANOR DILLWORTH, A TWENTY-NINE-YEAR VETERAN OF THE CIA’S CLANDESTINE SERVICE, HAS TOLD THIS REPORTER THAT THE OFFICE OF ORGANIZATIONAL ANALYSIS—THE SUPER-SECRET, POSSIBLY ILLEGAL INTELLIGENCE ORGANIZATION OPERATING OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE AND ANSWERING ONLY TO THE PRESIDENT—DID IN FACT MAKE OFF WITH TWO VERY SENIOR RUSSIAN INTELLIGENCE OFFICERS AND TOOK THEM TO AN UNKNOWN DESTINATION “HOURS BEFORE” THEY WERE TO BOARD A CIA AIRCRAFT SENT TO VIENNA, AUSTRIA, TO FLY THEM TO THE UNITED STATES.
DILLWORTH TOLD THIS REPORTER————BREAK MORE TO FOLLOW
“Can’t we shut this Dillworth broad up?” the President asked. “Why is she determined to embarrass my administration?”
“Sir, I believe she thinks she was unfairly treated after Castillo stole the Russians from under her nose. She was relieved of her duties in Vienna and brought back to Langley.”
“Jesus Christ, didn’t it occur to her that if she allowed Castillo to steal the Russians from her that that’s proof she wasn’t doing her fucking job?”
The President reached for the red telephone on his desk.
“Get me Jack Powell,” he ordered, then slammed the handset back in the cradle.
The protocol dealing with telephone calls between the President and those on the priority list—of whom John Powell, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, was one—required the person called to “be available”—in other words, be on the line—within sixty seconds.
