Siro by David Ignatius (short books to read txt) 📕

us in the 1950s, although Marjorie says personnel doesn’t have anything in its files about a pension. I say fuck it. Let’s pay him.”

“Fine. Have you promised him anything else?”

“Not financially, no.”

“I meant, spiritually.”

“I went through the usual bullshit about the cause.”

“What particular bullshit was that?”

“About liberating Turkestan from the Russians, and how we’ll never betray him and all that. He was pleased when we got the radios to broadcast his poem, but he was still skittish about working with the agency again. So I arranged a dog-and-pony show for him last week with a buddy from the Near East Division who owes me a favor. He gave Munzer a briefing on Central Asia, all about how the Moslems are rising up to overthrow the atheists and infidels. Munzer loved it.”

“What does he think he’ll be doing for us?”

“Liberating Turkestan.”

“And he assumes it’s all for real?”

“Of course.”

“How loudly will he scream when we pull the plug?”

“He won’t be very happy, but so what? He’s been claiming the CIA betrayed him for the past twenty-five years anyway. Why should anyone pay any more attention to him now?”

“Um-hum,” said Stone coolly. “Well, that sounds reasonable enough, Alan. Thank you.”

Anna bit her tongue. She wanted to say something, but it wasn’t her turn, and Munzer Ahmedov wasn’t her agent. Stone seemed to sense her uneasiness and turned to her.

“Now, what about you, Anna? Are you all set with Frank Hoffman?”

“I think so. He’s signed a contract, but he refuses to accept any money from us. He says he’s too rich already.”

“And when will you be handing Mr. Ascari over to him?”

“Next week in Athens. Ascari is flying in from London.”

“And what do you think of Hoffman?”

“I like him better than I thought I would at first. He doesn’t play games.” She meant it to sound cutting, but Stone seemed not to hear.

“So the pieces are in place, then. Which means that it is time for us to move on to the next stage.”

“Mr. Stone?” said Anna. Her heart was racing.

“Yes, my dear.”

“I’d like to ask you a question.”

“Certainly. What is it?”

“What does the State Department have to say about our operation?”

“The State Department? Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. I thought they had a policy against stirring up Soviet nationalities. In fact, during the first conversation you and I had, at that motel off I-270, I remember you saying that the State Department was worried that anything involving the nationalities would cause problems with Moscow.”

“Nuclear war, I think I said. They fear it could lead to nuclear war. That’s nonsense, of course. But you’re entirely correct. That is what they think.”

“Right. So given that, you’d think they might object.”

“I’m sure they would, if they knew about it. But fortunately, they don’t.”

Anna tensed. She was afraid that if she pushed, Stone would lie to her, which would force her to make a decision. But she had to ask; she had promised herself that much.

“Are you sure,” she said, “that the State Department hasn’t objected?”

“Let me think,” he replied, studying her face. Anna held her breath. “There is one thing, now that I think about it. One of their people apparently heard a rumor that the agency was up to something and asked the front office about it. They responded, in all candor, that it was rubbish. Why? Are you concerned about who’s authorizing all this?”

“A little.”

“Of course you are,” he said gently. “And you should be. But we’re not some rogue elephant operating on our own, I can assure you of that. We’re operating under explicit guidance from the White House.”

“From the President?”

“From his National Security Adviser, which amounts to the same thing. We have authority from the highest level. It’s not a straight line, I grant you, but it’s there.”

Anna let go a deep and genuine sigh of relief. “That’s great. I hadn’t realized that.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I had mentioned it before.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought it up. Because we need to be very careful about this legal business. We unfortunately are living in a land of pygmies, who would like nothing better than to catch us violating one of their rules. So we must be very careful, especially from now on. No more special requests to the radios in Munich, please. Alan briefly required the services of a friend of mine there, but I’m afraid that’s the last of it.”

“Why?” asked Taylor. “The radios could help us a lot.”

“Because the management in Munich has issued a new order forbidding broadcast of anti-Russian tracts.”

“How did they find out?”

“Someone was clumsy, or perhaps the Russians complained. How should I know? But the whistle has been blown, officially.”

“What else can’t we do?” asked Taylor.

“Oh, goodness,” said Stone. He straightened his tie, making sure the ends were the same length. “Let me see. There was a phase of the operation I never mentioned to either of you, because it was too boring. It involved gathering data on Soviet nationalities. I wanted to collect underground religious and political material from Central Asia and the Caucasus, to give us a better idea of what was already happening there, so that our propaganda material would fit. But I’m afraid that won’t be possible now.”

“Why not?” asked Anna.

“The usual reason. Someone in the front office began asking questions.”

“But what’s wrong with that? Why shouldn’t the front office know, if the project has the blessing of the White House?”

“Because it is a covert program, my dear. And because of its extreme sensitivity, it is being handled outside normal channels. As I told you, the line of authority is there, but it wiggles and waggles a bit. Some people know, and others—whom you might expect to know—do not. Do you follow me?”

“I guess so,” said Anna.

“Good. Then let’s get on with it.” Stone rose from the couch and gestured to the showroom, now cluttered with boxes. “You have undoubtedly been wondering what the accumulating stack of debris in your office is all about. So I will