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“Doing what?”
“As I understand the matter, sir, the French are experiencing beach erosion problems in Normandy.”
“What the hell can that possibly have to do with us?”
“The French position, Mr. President,” Lammelle said, “as I understand it, is the problem began in the spring of 1944, when we landed our invasion force there and tore them up—the beaches, I mean—in so doing. And that therefore we should pay for restoring their beaches to their pre–June sixth, 1944, condition.”
“Well, I can understand that,” Hoboken said.
“And how much is that going to cost the American taxpayer?” Truman Ellsworth asked innocently.
“I don’t know,” Lammelle said. “I understand the secretary is trying to get the French to charge the cost of restoring their beaches in Normandy against their debt to us. So far, they have been unwilling to do so.”
“That’s going to have to go on the back burner,” the President said. “Tell Secretary Cohen not to give the Frogs a dime until she clears it with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“First things first, I always say.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So explain this to me,” the President said, waving Castillo’s report.
“What is it you don’t understand, Mr. President?”
“Practically none of it,” the President admitted. “But let’s start with all these Rent-a-Spooks he’s hired from Sparkling Water Due Diligence, Inc. What the hell? Who exactly are these people and what are they going to do for me?”
“Several years ago, Mr. President, several companies were formed to furnish certain services to the intelligence community on a contract basis,” Ellsworth answered. “What happened, Mr. President, is that the FBI, the DIA, and others realized that some of the best people, particularly those in the Clandestine Service—”
“Spooks.”
“Yes, sir. Many of them had reached retirement age, or length of service—one can retire from the Clandestine Service after twenty years—and were not interested in continuing to serve beyond their twenty years because they could make a great deal more money working for industry and Wall Street.
“Eventually sort of an employment agency, which called itself ‘Blackwater,’ came into being to match the needs of Wall Street and industry with available personnel. That quickly evolved into Blackwater providing Wall Street and industry—who didn’t want it to get out that they had spies on their payrolls—with the appropriate personnel on a contract basis.
“When the Agency began to miss the Clandestine Service personnel who had retired—they really needed them—it occurred to the Agency that if Wall Street could hire these ex-spies, so could they. And that’s how it began, Mr. President. And I must say it’s worked out well.”
“You are using ex-spies from this Blackwater thing to do the CIA’s spying—is that what you’re telling me?”
“Since I took over as DCI, Mr. President, I have been moving more toward Sparkling Water and away from Blackwater.”
“Why is that?”
“Blackwater kept raising its prices, Mr. President. Not only did Sparkling Water come to me and offer the same quality ex-spies for less money, but also the services of ex–Delta Force Special Operators and retired Secret Service personnel. The Delta Force people were unhappy performing services for Wall Street. So the Agency has just about moved to placing all its contract business with Sparkling Water.”
“So you know who the people on here are?” the President asked, waving Castillo’s report.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“And you’re going to tell me about them, right?”
“Yes, sir. May I have a look at Colonel Castillo’s report, sir?”
“Why don’t you have your own copy?”
“Because it says ‘Duplication Forbidden,’ sir. Right at the top.”
“Okay. Who are they?”
