discrete transportation,” Gerald said.
“I’ll take care
of it.”
“What about the
security officer?”
Avery frowned. “What
about the security officer?”
“New order from
the director’s office. No Agency personnel are to leave the embassy or travel
anywhere in the country without an armed security escort until further notice.”
“Yeah, see, I
don’t go in for that kind of stupid shit.”
Avery had been in
Iraq at the height of the insurgency war. Case officers meeting and recruiting agents
travelled in Hummvees with an entourage of bodyguards in flak vests carrying
assault rifles, sometimes with a helicopter escort if they were going into a
really bad part of town. As a result, insurgents easily identified Iraqis collaborating
with the American-led occupation.
“You may not
have a choice,” Gerald said. “DCM and RSO want to meet with you to discuss your
assignment here before you undertake any action.”
The deputy chief
of mission was the second-in-command at the embassy, after the ambassador. And
the ambassador was the president’s personally appointed representative and had
authority over all US Government employees in the country, including CIA
officers. The regional security officer came from the State Department’s
Diplomatic Security Service and was the senior most law enforcement officer in
the country.
Avery had no
intention of speaking with either one. They would try to put him in his place,
as they saw it, and control him, try to shoot him down before he even got off
the ground, the way they likely did with any CIA officers on their turf. He was
just surprised that they’d already been tipped off about his arrival.
Gerald seemed to
read his thoughts. “Hey, I didn’t say anything, but it’s a small post, you
know. Word gets around fast.”
“Yeah,” Avery
said. “You think maybe that’s why we’re in this mess in the first place?”
SIX
Dushanbe; Dayrabot
Getting around the GKNB watchers didn’t
prove to be terribly difficult, but it still cost valuable time. When Avery
asked Gerald if the station had a JIB, he wasn’t surprised by the younger
officer’s befuddled expression. Avery knew CIA’s Directorate of Science and
Technology made its own jack-in-the-box and provided them to stations where
officers were likely to encounter heavy surveillance from a hostile agency.
The CIA-manufactured
version of a jack-in-the-box is a two dimensional cut-out of a man or woman’s
upper torso and head that fits into a medium-sized briefcase and could be
quickly erected inside a car. From a distance, it looked like a passenger. The
purpose of a JIB was to allow someone to slip out of a car while in transit, so
that the watchers won’t notice a missing head in the car.
But Dushanbe
station didn’t have a JIB, so Avery improvised. Following a walk through the
embassy, he was able to procure various odds-and-ends to assemble his own custom-made
JIB. These items included a toilet plunger, wire coat hangers, packing tape,
and glue, plus various articles of clothing from Gerald’s cooperative and
amused colleagues.
The station kept
various accessories for disguises, including a wig roughly matching the color and
shade of Avery’s black hair. He trimmed the wig down to match his own close
buzz-cut and used the scraps to shape together a short, unkempt looking beard. He
assembled these hairpieces around a white balloon, which would serve as the
head.
It didn’t matter
that Avery’s decoy didn’t exactly look like a human being. It had the general appearance
of one matching his description. Plus the GKNB watchers would be observing from
a distance, and the Forerunner’s tinted windows would further help conceal his
JIB.
Next, Avery sat
down in the embassy’s Sensitive Compartmentalized Information Facility, or
SCIF, literally a room within a room, with Gerald Rashid, an ops officer named
Darren, and two marines from the security detail. Avery laid out what
“I’ll take care
of it.”
“What about the
security officer?”
Avery frowned. “What
about the security officer?”
“New order from
the director’s office. No Agency personnel are to leave the embassy or travel
anywhere in the country without an armed security escort until further notice.”
“Yeah, see, I
don’t go in for that kind of stupid shit.”
Avery had been in
Iraq at the height of the insurgency war. Case officers meeting and recruiting agents
travelled in Hummvees with an entourage of bodyguards in flak vests carrying
assault rifles, sometimes with a helicopter escort if they were going into a
really bad part of town. As a result, insurgents easily identified Iraqis collaborating
with the American-led occupation.
“You may not
have a choice,” Gerald said. “DCM and RSO want to meet with you to discuss your
assignment here before you undertake any action.”
The deputy chief
of mission was the second-in-command at the embassy, after the ambassador. And
the ambassador was the president’s personally appointed representative and had
authority over all US Government employees in the country, including CIA
officers. The regional security officer came from the State Department’s
Diplomatic Security Service and was the senior most law enforcement officer in
the country.
Avery had no
intention of speaking with either one. They would try to put him in his place,
as they saw it, and control him, try to shoot him down before he even got off
the ground, the way they likely did with any CIA officers on their turf. He was
just surprised that they’d already been tipped off about his arrival.
Gerald seemed to
read his thoughts. “Hey, I didn’t say anything, but it’s a small post, you
know. Word gets around fast.”
“Yeah,” Avery
said. “You think maybe that’s why we’re in this mess in the first place?”
SIX
Dushanbe; Dayrabot
Getting around the GKNB watchers didn’t
prove to be terribly difficult, but it still cost valuable time. When Avery
asked Gerald if the station had a JIB, he wasn’t surprised by the younger
officer’s befuddled expression. Avery knew CIA’s Directorate of Science and
Technology made its own jack-in-the-box and provided them to stations where
officers were likely to encounter heavy surveillance from a hostile agency.
The CIA-manufactured
version of a jack-in-the-box is a two dimensional cut-out of a man or woman’s
upper torso and head that fits into a medium-sized briefcase and could be
quickly erected inside a car. From a distance, it looked like a passenger. The
purpose of a JIB was to allow someone to slip out of a car while in transit, so
that the watchers won’t notice a missing head in the car.
But Dushanbe
station didn’t have a JIB, so Avery improvised. Following a walk through the
embassy, he was able to procure various odds-and-ends to assemble his own custom-made
JIB. These items included a toilet plunger, wire coat hangers, packing tape,
and glue, plus various articles of clothing from Gerald’s cooperative and
amused colleagues.
The station kept
various accessories for disguises, including a wig roughly matching the color and
shade of Avery’s black hair. He trimmed the wig down to match his own close
buzz-cut and used the scraps to shape together a short, unkempt looking beard. He
assembled these hairpieces around a white balloon, which would serve as the
head.
It didn’t matter
that Avery’s decoy didn’t exactly look like a human being. It had the general appearance
of one matching his description. Plus the GKNB watchers would be observing from
a distance, and the Forerunner’s tinted windows would further help conceal his
JIB.
Next, Avery sat
down in the embassy’s Sensitive Compartmentalized Information Facility, or
SCIF, literally a room within a room, with Gerald Rashid, an ops officer named
Darren, and two marines from the security detail. Avery laid out what
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