“That can probably be arranged,” Willard said finally.
“Probably?” Lowell asked softly.
“I think we can probably save a lot of time here if I put it this way, Charley,” O’Connor said. “Very simply, you are to make sure that Major Lunsford’s people get whatever they ask for as your first priority. Do you understand?”
“Welcome to the team, Howard,” Lowell said.
“Inasmuch as it has been made clear that I no longer enjoy the confidence of the Agency,” Willard said, as if he had rehearsed the phrase, “I officially request relief and transfer to other duties at the earliest possible time.”
“Oh, Charley, don’t be an ass,” Cecilia said.
“Come on, Charley,” O’Hara said placatingly.
“Sir,” Willard said, looking at O’Connor, “I officially request relief and transfer to other duties at the earliest possible time.”
O’Connor looked around the room. Both Mobutu and Supo were fascinated with the exchange. Lowell’s and Lunsford’s looks were contemptuous. Miss Cecilia Taylor looked unhappy, as did Mrs. Geoffrey Craig and Madame Jacques Portet. Lieutenants Portet and Craig were making a valiant effort to keep straight faces.
“We can talk about this in the morning,” O’Connor said. “But I think that’s all we’ll need from you tonight, Charley.”
Willard stood up and walked out of the room.
“I regret, sir, this unfortunate—” O’Connor said, to Mobutu.
The general waved his hand. These things happen.
“Colonel Lowell, is there anything else I can do to show you, and General Mobutu and Colonel Supo, that we are, in fact, on the same team?”
“There is one thing,” Lowell said. “Miss Taylor.”
“What about Miss Taylor?” O’Connor asked.
“To replace Willard,” Lowell said. “I think everybody in this room would be happy if she were the CIA station chief here.”
Jesus Christ, that came from left field!
But why not?
She’s smart, she gets along with Lunsford. . . .
“Sir, I was forced to replace Willard with Cecilia Taylor. I’m afraid the job was a little too much for him. And she has a close working relationship with Felter’s man, Major Lunsford. I happen to know Felter’s man, Lowell, thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Cecilia?” O’Connor asked.
“That possibility never entered my mind,” she said.
“You told me yourself that Jim Foster was as much on top of things in Dar es Salaam as you are,” O’Connor said.
She raised both hands, palm upward, in a gesture of surrender.
“I’ll have to have the concurrence of Mr. O’Hara, of course, and of the Director,” O’Connor said.
“I think we have a new station chief,” O’Hara said. “The Director will understand why this had to happen.”
[ SIX ]
TOP SECRET
1420 GREENWICH 10 MAY 1965
FROM STATION CHIEF, BUENOS AIRES
TO DIRECTOR, CIA, LANGLEY
COPIES TO SOUTH AMERICAN DESK
MR. SANFORD TO FELTER, COUNSELOR TO THE
PRESIDENT
THE EXECUTIVE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON
THE FOLLOWING RECEIVED FROM US ARMY OFFICER ASSIGNED US EMBASSY BELIEVED TO BE CONTROLLED BY MR. FELTER. IT IS RECOMMENDED THE INTELLIGENCE FOLLOWING BE REGARDED AS THE EQUIVALENT OF CIA RELIABILITY SCALE FIVE. IT IS TRANSMITTED IN ITS ENTIRETY AND VERBATIM.
START
DEAR FRIENDS:
IT WAS LEARNED TODAY THAT SEÑORA CELIA DE LA SERNA DE GUEVARA, DR. ERNESTO GUEVARA’S MOTHER, HAS BEEN ADMITTED TO THE STAPLER CLINIC, AVENIDA CORONEL DIAS, PALERMO, BUENOS AIRES. SEÑORA GUEVARA IS SUFFERING FROM CANCER. SHE IS 59 YEARS OLD.
ERNESTO LYNCH GUEVARA, DR. GUEVARA’S FATHER, HAS MADE HIMSELF RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS EX-WIFE’S HOSPITAL BILLS, WHICH SHOULD BE VERY LARGE, AS SHE IS INSTALLED IN A LARGE PRIVATE ROOM IN PROBABLY THE BEST FACILITY FOR CASES OF THIS NATURE IN ARGENTINA.
SEÑORA DE GUEVARA’S PROGNOSIS IS THAT SHE IS CLOSE TO DEATH, POSSIBLY WITHIN DAYS. IT IS KNOWN THAT HER FORMER HUSBAND YESTERDAY VISITED THE SOVIET EMBASSY HERE, HAVING HEARD THE SOVIETS HAVE DEVELOPED A CURE FOR CANCER.
BEST REGARDS
END
J.P STEPHENS
STATION CHIEF BUENOS AIRES
TOP SECRET
[ SEVEN ]
Kamina Air Base
Katanga Province, The Congo
1615 13 May 1965
Major John D. Anderson, an assistant military attaché, and the senior pilot of the U.S. Embassy in Léopoldville, turned on final to Runway 27, called for gear down and twenty-degree flaps, and looked over his shoulder at his sole passenger.
She was the last goddamned person in the world anyone would think was the head spook for the CIA in the Congo, but that was the fact. Her predecessor, Charley Willard, who Anderson had always thought was a pretty good guy, if a little self-important, had apparently fucked up big-time somehow and gotten his ass shipped back to the U.S. of A. on twenty-four hours’ notice. The next day, Miss Cecilia Taylor had walked into his office and introduced herself as Charley’s replacement. She was ostensibly a cultural affairs officer.
But she was the head spook, the CIA station chief,