TWENTY-FOUR
The president was eating lunch with Father Flynn when the security phone buzzed. This time the CRT was in split-screen format, showing two faces: FBI Director Peter Dirksma, and another man.
"Mr. President," Dirksma said, "this is Agent Aaron Gonzalves. He has some preliminary information for you on Director Blackburn. Incidentally, your call to the National Security Agency was very helpful; it got us covert access to CIA's central computer. Without that, we wouldn't have been able to get some of this without making ourselves known. Which might have enabled a coverup."
"Right," the president said. "What did you learn, Aaron?"
"In Dr. Blackburn's earlier commands," Gonzalves said, "there was a history of personnel breakdowns and losses. However, in eight years of project commands, he had three major, or at least substantial, covert operations victories to his credit, depending on how you define major. Apparently three is considered good performance in that time frame.
"He was promoted from project leader to chief of Covert Operations in the Southeast Asia Division. After two years on that, he was promoted to deputy director of the CIA. Two years later, when Director Crasso died, President Donnelly designated Blackburn as the new director, and the Senate approved. That was eight months ago.
"I've looked through Dr. Blackburn's personnel files, and there are a couple of reprimands there for mistreatment of foreign personnel while visiting Bangkok. Pretty unpleasant stuff. I'm amazed he got promoted over them; in the Bureau he'd have been fired."
Haugen blew silently through pursed lips. "Who sponsored Blackburn with President Donnelly?'
"Secretary of State Coulter, sir."
"Oh hoh! Okay, what else did you find out?"
"Well sir, his doctorate isn't a Ph.D. as I'd thought it would be. He's got an M.D., from Johns Hopkins; he's a licensed psychiatrist."
"Huh! That's interesting." The president paused as if thinking. "Anything else on him?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Tell you what: I want you to find out for me if he has a personal laboratory or clinical facility in the CIA Building. Do you have someone inside over there that can check that out for us?"
"Yessir."
"Good. If he does..." The president paused, thought of using martial law, then decided not to. "Tell you what, Peter. I'm going to suspend Blackburn on the basis of the reprimands in his file. Then I want you to arrest him; hold him under the Official Secrets Act. We can do that legally, can't we?"
"Yes sir, for up to ninety-six hours."
"Okay. Wait an hour and then arrest him. His suspension will be finalized by then. I want all the information necessary to either charge him or clear him, inside of ninety-six hours.
"He may try to get away from you, so be on your toes. He's likely to be pretty competent at things like that.
"Oh, and one more thing. Find out who wrote the reprimands on him. And what they're doing now."
When he'd disconnected, the president looked at Flynn with grim satisfaction. "Steve," he said, "it's time to start practicing your pushups." Then he buzzed Milstead and initiated the suspension of Blackburn.
When they finished eating, Father Flynn excused himself, and Haugen called Godfrey at the CIA. "Norman," he said, "I have some more questions for you. How long will it take you to get to the White House from Langley?'
"At this time of the afternoon? I can probably drive it in half an hour."
"When can you start?"
Godfrey looked a trifle pained, as if he was in the middle of something. "I'll dump what I have in memory and be on my way inside five minutes, if that's all right with you, sir."
"That's fine. Do it. Ill see you in thirty-five or forty minutes."
The president broke the connection and started to read a report he'd asked for, on the current status of Russo-Finnish relations. He did not find it enjoyable. He'd finished it and was reading one on Russo-Turkish relations when Godfrey arrived.
"Norman," the president said, "I may have called you over here for something you could tell me over the phone. If I did, I'm sorry. But it occurred to me that your calls over there might be monitored, or that you might feel uncomfortable about talking freely from there.
"Anything you want to say about that?"
"Only that I have no reason to think my calls are monitored."
"Okay. What I want to know is, what does CIA staff think of Blackburn."
After a moment's pause, Godfrey answered. "Well, sir, they're mainly of two schools: his buddies, and those who don't like him. No, make that three schools: There are those who are scared of him."
"Interesting. Which do you fit in?"
Again a pause. "Well, sir, I'm not in Covert Operations, so I don't ordinarily have much contact with him. But I'm one of the "don't likes." Basically he's a mind-fucker. And when he became director, several agency people who'd had run-ins with him before, got transferred to field projects and supposedly dropped out of sight."
"Dropped out of sight? What does that mean?"
"Supposedly no one hears about them anymore. It could just mean they're in a project somewhere that's so highly secret, it's as if they don't exist."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know enough about Covert Operations to have an informed opinion."
Haugen's eyes seemed to probe, as if looking inside Godfrey's head. It might have been offensive, had the gaze not been so neutral. "You said supposedly a couple of times. What does that mean?"
"It means that what I know about it is rumor. You might not expect there'd be rumors in a close-mouthed outfit like the CIA. And mostly there aren't. But now and then you hear one, almost always about Covert Operations. I've always suspected that someone starts them deliberately."
The president sat contemplatively for a moment, fingers drumming on his desk. "Can you give me the names of the people you mentioned, who're supposed to have dropped out of sight?"
"Sure." Godfrey named three.
"And was there anyone in Covert Operations that hadn't gotten along with Blackburn but who's still around there?"
"Yes sir. One that I know of. His name is Thompson or Thomson, first name Bill. He held some major post; I think it was chief debriefing officer. A lot of people were pretty loyal to him: he's a good guy. I suppose he had too many friends and he was too visible to just ship him out. He's black, for one thing. And very outgoing, which is kind of unusual around the shop. After Blackburn took over, Thompson got a lateral transfer to Personnel—away from the action."
***
When Godfrey had left, the president got on the phone and talked to Dirksma. Gonzalves had already left for CIA headquarters. Haugen played back his conversation with Godfrey. "I consider that Godfrey is probably reliable," he said. "Get those names checked out, and have Gonzalves talk privately with this Bill Thompson.
"And have someone find out what the routing-out procedures are for people who leave Covert Operations for civilian life. Not just the standard, but procedures for special cases, too. Thompson may be helpful on that.
"And Peter, I've got too damn much attention on what may be a situation there. That's Situation with a capital S. I need to get it sorted out enough to take my mind off it; enough that I can let others handle it without worrying about it anymore.
"So I want you to update me no later than nine o'clock this evening, even if you haven't learned a damned thing more. I want communication. And if you find out something at midnight that you think I should know about right away, call me then."
***
Dirksma called back a lot sooner than 9 P.M. Blackburn had suicided. The arresting agents had allowed him to take a little travel kit with him after searching it. Later, in the cell they put him in, they found him dead of cyanide poisoning. The shaft of his manual razor had been hollow. Inside it were two more cyanide capsules.
The Bureau's investigation had thereby gained another facet: Why had he suicided? The possibility that had occurred at once to Dirksma was that Blackburn had been a double agent. But that was sheer speculation; there was no evidence for it, and only the poisoning even to suggest it.
The president didn't give his opinion—that Blackburn had been psychotic. There'd been something in the man's eyes, when they'd met the president's, like a flash of sheer terror, as if he'd thought the president, looking into them, had somehow found him out. Even guilt of treason, it seemed to Haugen, wouldn't account for terror in a sane man. Not under this morning's circumstances.