Authors: David Hagberg
Without Honor (21 page)
“How?”
“Darby told me, of course ⦔ Owens suddenly trailed off, realizing what he was saying, at long last understanding what it was McGarvey had been getting at all along. “It was documented ⦠I mean
a lot of what we were feeding the kid was showing up ⦔
a lot of what we were feeding the kid was showing up ⦔
“You went on Yarnell's word alone?” McGarvey asked as gently as he could, though the question itself belied any gentleness.
“He was a friend,” Owens replied. “Darby
was
the CIA in Moscow. I'd sooner have questioned the president.”
was
the CIA in Moscow. I'd sooner have questioned the president.”
“What was the question?”
Owens took a moment to reply. He focused on McGarvey, then shook his head. “Hell, I don't remember. It seemed important at the time. Something about satellites, I suppose, but for the life of me I can't remember it now.”
“But it was Yarnell's signal that the first phase of his operation was done.”
Owens averted his eyes. “After that it began to get nasty. Sergeant Innes, as well as his control officer, had bought the program, hook, line, and sinkerâ”
“According to Yarnell,” McGarvey interjected.
“According to Darby, all right.”
“So the question was asked, and presumably Yarnell gave him an answer to take back to his control officer. What then? Did it continue? I mean, did you give them more and more?”
“No,” Owens said. “It was time for the change.”
“For the next phase?” McGarvey prompted after a moment. Owens suddenly seemed less than eager to continue now that they had gotten this far. McGarvey lit them both another cigarette and then went into the kitchen, where he opened them each another beer. When he came back into the living room, the old man was sitting back in his overstuffed chair, his eyes closed. McGarvey stopped just inside the doorway and stared at the man. He could not see Owens's chest rising or falling. For a terrible moment
or so, he thought Owens was dead. But then the old man opened his eyes and looked over.
or so, he thought Owens was dead. But then the old man opened his eyes and looked over.
“I usually take a nap this time of the afternoon,” he apologized. “The beer and all makes me sleepy.”
“Go ahead,” McGarvey said, coming the rest of the way in and setting the beer down on the big oak coffee table. “I have plenty of time.”
Owens shook his head. “I'd just as soon go on. Get it over with.”
McGarvey figured what the old man meant was he wanted to finish the story so McGarvey would get the hell out of his house and leave him alone. It was just as well. McGarvey sat down and put his feet up.
“The next phase of the operation?” he prompted again.
“Darby wanted everything to be one hundred percent,” Owens picked it up. “He figured that the kid, no matter how good he and his control officer had become as a team, could not have passed over more than twenty-five or thirty percent of the material he had been given. It left a hell of a lot of fantastic misinformation rattling around in Innes's head. Darby was crazy to get the entire bundle across. It was like fishing, he told me. âGetting nibbles is fun and all, watching the bobber going up and down gets the blood pumping, but I want the big strike, I want the bloody marlin, the sailfish, a whale.' He changed his tactics from that point on. Sergeant Innes had been his pal, and now Darby set out to manufacture an enemy instead. It was something to watch how Darby used the same old charm, only now in reverse, to get the sergeant to understand that he was no longer trusted. It was subtle at first. So subtle, in fact, I don't think Innes had any inkling for the first few weeks. But then we started to see it on the kid's face, in the way he acted, in the things he said. Or didn't say. I suspect he lost a lot of
sleep in those days. I don't think I could have taken it as long or as well as he did.”
sleep in those days. I don't think I could have taken it as long or as well as he did.”
“How did Yarnell manage to accomplish this, exactly?” McGarvey asked.
Owens shrugged. “It was nothing obvious at first. Darby just stopped sending some of the agency's traffic through Innes. He began using some of the other operators. A few here and there at first, more and more as time went on.”
“He was counting on the other operators to mention it to Innes, I imagine. Make him think about it, worry about it.”
“Exactly,” Owens said. “And of course it worked. We all watched as Sergeant Innes disintegrated. That in itself wasn't such a pretty sight.”
“But there was more.”
“Much more,” Owens said tiredly. “The most important parts were yet to come.”
The wind had started to blow in earnest now. McGarvey wondered if the return flight scheduled for eight that evening would be able to take off. Of course, if it did not, he could rent a car and drive back down to the city or stay in a motel here. Actually it did not matter one way or the other to him if he rested up here at this end or back in Washington. He had a feeling he knew what was coming in Owens's story and what he would have to do about it ultimately, yet he wanted to stay to hear it to the end. And afterward, he wondered as he listened to the wind howl around the eaves ⦠well, afterward he would just have to see.
Â
“Did Sergeant Innes ever come to you or anyone other than Yarnell for advice or help?” McGarvey asked. “Did he ever once question why he was being cut off from the job he had been trained for and promoted to? For a year the kid was a superstar, now
all of a sudden he'd developed a social disease.”
all of a sudden he'd developed a social disease.”
“He never said a word.”
“What about his mail to his wife? Was it monitored?”
“We opened his mail,” Owens said. “But he never mentioned a single thing about his work. Mostly he wrote about Moscow, the people, the weather, and the foodâand about how much he missed her.”
“Not traitor talk,” McGarvey suggested gently, looking at his shoes.
“He was a cool customer. He was playing it close. I'd have done the same thing had I been in his place. At least I would have tried.”
McGarvey thought about himself and Kathleen in the early days. He'd never told his wife any secrets, of course, and yet a lot of his job had come home with him, had seeped into his relationship (enough to cause the divorce), seeped into his telephone calls when he was away, and into his letters, some of which had to be voluntarily censored. He was a professional. Sergeant Innes had supposedly begun as an amateur and had learned his tradecraft on the run from his Russian case officer. It did not make a lot of sense to McGarvey, the kid's sudden professionalism, unless he was a cold fish after all, a young man with nerves of steel or without a conscience. But even then, when things apparently began to go sour at the embassy, he would have mentioned something in his letters, let some clue drop; at the very least he might hint to his wife that he no longer enjoyed Moscow, that he was homesick, that he was counting the days until he came home. An eighteen month assignment, Owens had said. By that time Sergeant Innes was getting to be a shorttimer. He said as much to Owens.
“Oh sure, by then Innes only had a few months
to go. We discussed that very thing during our Monday planning sessions. It came down to two choices: either we could extend Innes, tack some extra time onto his assignmentâwhich we figured would have made him and his case officer skittishâor we could push him into doing what Yarnell wanted from the beginning.”
to go. We discussed that very thing during our Monday planning sessions. It came down to two choices: either we could extend Innes, tack some extra time onto his assignmentâwhich we figured would have made him and his case officer skittishâor we could push him into doing what Yarnell wanted from the beginning.”
“Which was?”
“For the kid to jump,” Owens said.
“Why?”
“To legitimize him, for one, and so that he would bring the rest of his disinformation over with him.”
They had their timetable then; it was some eighty-five or eighty-six days before Innes was to ship out. So Yarnell stepped up his efforts to convince the kid that his arrest was not only possible, but was indeed likely and imminent. More and more, Innes was isolated from the cryptographic section on little errands around the embassy. For two weeks he worked in the consular section processing visa applications. For nearly a month he worked keeping track of visiting American tourists of the VIP variety. Boring work for Innes.
The coup de grace came when Innes had barely a month to go. “Darby had made up this message to the DDO back at Langley. It was supposedly sent out over my signature. The flimsy was sitting on Darby's desk when young Innes was brought upstairs. Darby contrived to have himself called out for a moment, leaving Innes plenty of time to go snooping and find the thing laying there out in the open. And we made sure he took the bait. Darby was watching from the next office through a peephole. He wasn't going to go back in there until Innes read it. But it didn't take very long, let me tell you. Of course, by that time Innes was getting pretty gun-shy. He was trying to
cover his ass seven ways to Sunday. He picked up on that message within ten seconds of the moment Yarnell stepped out.”
cover his ass seven ways to Sunday. He picked up on that message within ten seconds of the moment Yarnell stepped out.”
“So he jumped,” McGarvey said.
“That night. I don't know exactly how he did it on such short notice. Might have simply taken a bus over to the Lubyanka and knocked on the door. He may have had an emergency setup with his control officer. But by morning when he didn't show up for work we knew he had gone over.”
“You mean to tell me after all of that you didn't follow him to make sure?”
“Of course not, McGarvey. We were trying to legitimize him. If there had been so much as a hint of a tail on him, that night of all nights, and his Russian control officer had gotten wind of it, the jig would have been up. They would have shot him themselves.”
“What was your posture at the embassy?” McGarvey asked. “How was this handled, in the open I mean?”
“We went through all the moves, if that's what you mean. Conducted our own little search, of course. Then we contacted the Moscow city militia, the police, and told them one of our people was missing, and that we suspected foul play. We had to go through the maneuvers. We had to make it seem as if we were worried about him and that his disappearance had come out of the blue.”
“What did that produce?”
“Nothing, not a damned thing,” Owens said. He was looking inward, his thoughts traveling backward in time. “It struck me as a little odd, though. That one aspect.” He looked up. “If the kid was going over, I would have thought he'd have asked for political asylum. The Russians would have made a big hoopla. They would have crowed about it. Shown
him off on television. But there wasn't a damned thing.”
him off on television. But there wasn't a damned thing.”
“Maybe they weren't so sure of him themselves.”
Owens nodded. “Darby suggested the same thing. Said we would have to continue making some noises, but that for the most part we were going to have to keep our mouths shut. He wanted us to go on an emergency footing, call in our field people across the entire Eastern Bloc because as soon as Innes started to talk in detail, the Russians would expect it of us.”
“Did we pull our people in?”
“No. Langley overruled that.”
“Was Yarnell angry?”
“Not angry, worried. He didn't care who got the credit when something went right, or who got the blame if things fell apart, he just didn't want to see any blood shed.” Owens saw the sudden intense look of incredulity on McGarvey's face. “He didn't want to see any
innocent
blood shed.”
innocent
blood shed.”
“Was there?”
“No more than normal attrition. Innes only had bogus information for the most part.”
“What happened next?” McGarvey asked. Owens was beginning to wind down. McGarvey suspected that the story was nearly finished.
“We spent a few days looking as if we were licking our wounds, and then we began making serious noises about getting him back.”
“How?”
Owens chuckled. “I picked up the telephone and called the centre. Lubyanka. Identified myself and told them we wanted Sergeant Innes returned or we were going to make a very large stink. Kidnapping, since Innes had not yet asked for political asylum.”
“You didn't get through to anyone, did you?”
“No one important. But our message had been received. Their incomings, just like ours, are automatically taped. And the telephone numbers are no great secret. We figured by then that the Russians might be getting skeptical of the kid's information. We wanted to make absolutely sure they believed him. If we treated him as if he were real, it would go a long way toward convincing them.”
“Did it work?”
“Not right off the bat. It did eventually, of course. We made enough noises so that the Russians finally agreed to a trade. Sergeant Innes for Yuri Suslev, a spy we had nicked in Washington four months earlier.” Owens seemed a little pale. The flush from the wind had faded. He got to his feet, stretched, and went to a window where he looked outside across the porch toward the rising waves pounding the beach below. There was a wistful set to his shoulders, as if he had gone as far with his story as he wanted to go because the telling had drawn him back to an earlier age when he was active. He had come face-to-face, via an unpleasant memory, with his own age.
McGarvey got to his feet, too, and threw another log on the fire, poking the dying flames to life. “Who was Innes's control officer, did you ever find that out?”
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