Page 78 of Denied Access
“Two days ago?”
Elysia wilted. “I know. I’m sorry. Our working relationship with State has been… strained as of late. To be fair, the note was thrown into the back seat while the DSS agent was inside paying. A foreign service officer discovered it this morning.”
Irene added another item to the mental list of subjects sheintended to discuss with the ambassador. While it was not uncommon for CIA and Department of State employees to find themselves at cross purposes, the relationship between the two organizations in Moscow seemed to be unusually antagonistic. No doubt part of this could be laid at the feet of the CIA’s string of blown operations. Even the most patient diplomat grew tired of being repeatedly raked across the coals by his foreign counterparts for the operational inadequacies of his CIA contemporaries.
Irene nodded as she read through the message yet again. If there was some hidden intention beneath the banal language, she was missing it. Not that there needed to be. A member of the Russian intelligence service wanted to meet with their American counterpart. At the very least, this could be an attempt to establish the type of back-channel conduit often fostered between rival intelligence services. At best… at best, a high-ranking Russian intelligence officer was offering to provide information to a crippled Moscow Station, just when the CIA needed the information most.
Hope battled with cynicism as Irene carefully placed the message on the conference table. Whoever coined the adage that when something seems too good to be true it often is could have been describing the profession of espionage.
Most of the time.
But every now and again, lightning really did strike and it was the job of the men and women who manned the ranks of the clandestine service to be ready when it did.
“Okay,” Irene said, turning the letter over in her hands, “can you please let the station’s case officers know that I’d like to meet with them en masse later today?”
Elysia paused with her fingers on the door handle. “All of them?”
Irene nodded. “I need to know the heat status of every handler left in Moscow Station. We’re going to start working the op plan to meet whoever this is.”
Elysia frowned.
“Something the matter?” Irene said.
“Yes. I mean no, but…”
Irene sighed. “I don’t pretend to understand what’s been happening over here, but it’s apparent that this station’s leadership has been less than stellar. That aside, I need you to unlearn whatever you’ve been told and remember that you are a Farm-trained clandestine officer working against one of our nation’s most skilled and determined adversaries. If there’s something you think I need to know, I expect you to tell me. Understood?”
Elysia nodded. “It’s just that whoever sent that message said that they are a ranking staff officer.” The case officer stared at Irene expectantly.
“Sorry,” Irene said after it became apparent the woman wasn’t going to continue, “I’m still not seeing your point.”
“Oh, I thought you knew. Moscow Station’s standing policy is to never attempt to recruit staff officers.”
Irene was dumbfounded. “Why on earth not?”
Elysia shrugged narrow shoulders. “I’m not sure who originated the order, but it’s been in place for a long time. The thinking was that by the time a KGB officer reaches such a high rank, they have too much at stake to betray their country.”
“Meaning that the potential recruit must be a dangle?”
“Yes.”
Once again, Irene had to school her features in order to hide her true feelings. While she understood the logic behind such a policy, the diktat was sharply at odds with the purpose of the clandestine service. Was there risk in attempting to recruit a senior member of the Soviet intelligence service? Of course. But was the risk worth the reward? Absolutely. Wild Bill Donovan, the agency’s operational father, once said that the ideal OSS candidate was a PhD who could win a bar fight. That the most important station in the agency that was his legacy was now operating by a philosophy that prioritized risk over reward was unthinkable. How many of the men and women who’d labored underMoscow Station’s foolish restrictions had matriculated to other duty assignments and infected new personnel with their foolishly risk-averse attitudes?
But that was only the tip of the iceberg.
The real tragedy was in opportunities lost. Russian assets in possession of potentially game-changing intelligence had been shunted aside because of an inane rule whose origin had been lost to the sands of time. The damage was almost impossible to calculate. But that was a problem for later. In the here and now, Irene needed to focus on the tactical problem—how to structure a clandestine meeting with the volunteer.
“Give your fellow case officers a heads-up that I’m about to announce a policy change,” Irene said. “Starting now, it’s open season on all Russian governmental officials regardless of their rank or position. Moscow Station is in the business of recruiting spies.”
Elysia nodded. Hope warred with trepidation.
Hope won.
“Right away, Chief,” Elysia said. “I’m on it.”
“I know you are, Elysia,” Irene said with a smile.
As the young woman exited the room, Irene thought she might have just recruited her first ally. She hoped this boded well for her meeting with the ambassador. Either way, Moscow Station was back.
