THE CLOCK SURVEILLANCE OF THE SITE, ASSISTANCE OF PERSONNEL FROM OTHER STATIONS IS NOT REQUIRED, AND IN THE ABSENCE OF SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS TO THE CONTRARY, THEY WILL DEPART THE COUNTRY NLT 7 APRIL 1965.
JAMES M. FOSTER
STATION CHIEF DAR ES SALAAM
TOP SECRET
END CIA Dar es Salaam Message
Additional intelligence generated by CIA Dar es Salaam will be furnished immediately on receipt.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
TOP SECRET
[SEVEN]
The Hotel du Lac
Costermansville, Kivu Province
Republic of the Congo
0900 5 April 1965
“I was worried sick about you,” Mrs. Marjorie B. Portet greeted her husband when he, Major George W. Lunsford, Spec7 William Peters (in the uniforms of a Congolese lieutenant colonel and captain, respectively), and Lieutenant Geoffrey Craig walked into the dining room of the hotel.
“The weather was lousy,” Jack replied. “We had to spend the night.”
“You could have sent word,” Marjorie said.
“That’s what we were doing, baby,” Jack answered, a slight tone of impatience in his voice. “Setting up relay stations so we can send word when something like that happens.”
“In other words, I’m being a bitch?”
“You said it, not me,” Jack said.
“Children, children,” Lunsford said. “If you keep that up, we will be forced to suspect the honeymoon is over.”
“I forgive you,” Jack said.
“Screw you,” Marjorie said, but she kissed him.
A waiter appeared and took their breakfast order, and as a second waiter was pouring coffee, two Congolese paratroop officers, who had come to the Congo as Master Sergeant Thomas and Sergeant First Class DeGrew, appeared and sat down at the table.
“This came in last night, boss,” Doubting Thomas said, and handed Lunsford a sheet of paper from the encryption machine.
Lunsford read it, then handed it to Geoff Craig, with a gesture meaning he wanted it passed around to the others. The way they were sitting, Jack got it last.
“Can I show this to my bride?” he asked.
“Who do you think ran the tape machines?” Marjorie asked. “I know what it says.”
TOP SECRET
EARN0023 WASH DC 1740 ZULU 4 APRIL 1965
VIA WHITE HOUSE SIGNAL AGENCY
FROM: EARNEST SIX
TO: HELPER SIX
1-COMPLETELY RELIABLE SOURCE STATES GUEVARA, DREKE, AND SIX OTHERS ARRIVED IN DAR ES SALAAM 1530 ZULU 4 APRIL.
2-JAMES M. FOSTER, CIA STATION CHIEF DAR ES SALAAM, APPARENTLY CONFIRMS WITH REPORT CIA HAS GUEVARA, DREKE, AND SIX OTHERS UNDER SURVEILLANCE ON FARM IN VICINITY OF MOROGORO, 75 MILES WEST OF DAR ES SALAAM.
3-REFERENCE PREVIOUSLY FURNISHED MANIFEST, SUPPLY FLIGHT FOUR WILL NOT REPEAT NOT HAVE TWO JEEPS ABOARD INASMUCH AS LÉOPOLDVILLE MOTORPOOL NOW AVAILABLE. TWO L19 AIRCRAFT; EQUIVALENT OF $25,000 IN GOLD SWISS COINS; TWO ASA TECHNICIANS; AND ONE L19/L20/H13 MECHANIC WILL BE ABOARD. ETA WILL BE FURNISHED WHEN AVAILABLE.
FINTON FOR EARNEST SIX
SECRET
“I have the feeling,” Father said, “that Mr. Foster disproves the general rule that most agency clowns cannot find their gluteus maximus with both hands.”
“I’d like to talk to him,” Sergeant Thomas said.
“My thinking exactly,” Thomas said.
“I’d like to have an intercept team near that farm,” Spec7 Peters said.
“Lieutenant Craig, with splendid enlisted men like these two, their thinking in complete synch with that of their beloved commander, how can we fail?”
“There are several possible problems,” Geoff said. “Starting with the basic one that this CIA guy may tell you to go . . . up a rope. Sorry, Marjorie. Close on the heels of that one, how do we get to talk to him?”
“Captain Weewili and I have given the subject some thought,” Thomas said. “And then we conferred at 0600 this very day with Major Alain George Totse himself.”
Lunsford smiled, and made a gesture with both hands, meaning, “Well, let’s have it.”
[EIGHT]
Consular Section
Embassy of the United States of America
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
1210 6 April 1965
“Good afternoon,” Captain Jacques Portet of Air Simba said to the receptionist. “I’d like a word with the Consul General, please.”
He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt with the four-striped board of a captain in its epaulets, and crisply creased black trousers. Beside him stood a stocky African wearing a loose, somewhat soiled, white shirt and loose, somewhat soiled, white trousers, held up with a knotted cord, their frayed hems a good ten inches above his heavily callused bare feet. He wore both a necklace and a bracelet of wild pig’s teeth.
“Perhaps I can help you, sir. Mr. Foster is tied up at the moment,” the receptionist replied. She was a striking, very tall, very black young woman who was made very uncomfortable by the shameless beaming approval being given her by the American’s boy.
“I really would be very grateful if Mr. Foster could spare me just a moment of his time,”