within other authorized missions given to officers under the jurisdiction of the Directorate of Operations - the Section of the CIA involved in overseas espionage. Teddy finished his comments by stating an imperative. No one outside the circle should ever learn of the existence of Aegis. Even the most remote danger of the discovery of their invisible organization could not be tolerated. It would have to be avoided at all cost.
Teddy’s last words were; “The men who carry out Aegis plans, must be more than merely capable of carrying out assignments. They must be particularly dedicated and completely trustworthy.” Then he leaned back in his chair and waited for Den’s reaction.
Den’s reaction was immediate. “This is not desk work,” he thought. “Teddy wants me to carry out assignments. He wants me do the killing.” Den looked for confirmation. “I suppose you are running a risk right now because I’ve been checked out and someone wonders if I might be willing to undertake,” Den paused for a second before saying, “a special project.” Teddy nodded.
“I suppose this is all you’re going to tell me about Aegis?”
Teddy shifted his eyes and studied the ceiling of his office, “If you were in the top level of the Agency and you knew the public exposure of an assassination plot could destroy the CIA as well as, perhaps, the President and his Administration, you wouldn’t want anyone to be able to identify your associates, would you? And if you, yourself, were involved in executing such a plan, wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have any such dangerous information?”
Den nodded. “Give me a few days.”
Teddy got his answer the next morning.
A week later, Den was sent to the CIA station in Santiago, Chile. Officially, he was expected to perform the jobs usually given to agents on their first overseas posting. His station associates didn’t know he had been given another unannounced assignment. Aegis provided him with the reported location of a political murderer who had successfully hidden from the justice that, long ago, should have been meted out.
The few attempts to capture Humberto del Valle had been frustrated. Carefully developed information of his whereabouts was consistently accurate and consistently stale. Den’s assignment was to determine if Humberto del Valle was in Puerto Montt. If he found him, he was told to kill him.
A few days after Den left for Chile, Henry Putnam was ushered into Teddy Smith’s office. Henry Putnam still had some hair. He combed it around on this pate to try to make it look like there was more of it. He wore rimless glasses and, unlike Teddy, he had developed a paunch. Henry was a bit optimistic when he considered himself to be middle aged. Psychologically, at least, he had moved far beyond that classification.
Henry Putnam had been in the Agency since the 1970s. As the years went by, he recognized how Congresses and various Administrations clamped down on the Agency’s clandestine operations. Like Teddy Smith, he watched the CIA become what he considered to be a bureaucratic monstrosity. Henry’s morale went into a steeper decline in each succeeding year.
Now he was the Chief of Station in Damascus and, unlike Teddy Smith, he had no professional interest in anything, except marking time until he could retire and enjoy the condo he owned in Hawaii. Henry Putnam’s professional life was governed by three rules: (a) Follow orders, (b) Cover your ass, and (c) Don’t screw up.
Teddy Smith and Henry Putnam were casual acquaintances. Over the years they had met and talked a few times. On rare occasions, they may have had a drink or two together. However, a stranger listening to Teddy’s jovial greeting would think they were the closest of old friends.
When Henry entered his office, Teddy, smiling his broadest of smiles, got to his feet. “Henry, great to see you. You look good. Syria must agree with you.” He shook Putnam’s hand and, as usual, held his visitor’s elbow with his left hand.
Teddy exuded friendly interest. “Great history in Syria. I was surprised to learn Damascus is the oldest continuously inhabited city on the planet. Must be a very interesting place. Sometimes I wish I were there with you instead of being chair bound here in Langley. Come. Sit. Not there. Here on the couch. The chairs are for strangers. The couch is for friends.”
Teddy’s few minutes of practiced inconsequential chatter followed before he asked: “What brings you here, Henry? What can I do for you?”
Henry took off his glasses and slowly wiped them. It was an affectation he often used for the purpose of getting a few seconds to think about what he was going to say and how he was going to begin.
Henry faced a problem. Covering his ass and keeping his head down had run into a serious conflict with the requirements of Agency policy. There was a slight chance that his worrisome problem might not exist. To learn if, in fact, he had a problem, he had to bring Teddy into his confidence. That, too, was dangerous, but he was reassured by Teddy’s friendly welcome
“Well,” Henry began, “I’ve got a little problem, Teddy.”
Teddy quickly interrupted. “If I can help, of course, I will. After all, what are good friends for?”
“We’ve got a younger guy in Damascus and he seems to be some kind of a maverick. He took it upon himself to do a free lance operation,” Then Henry quickly added: “I didn’t know about it and I didn’t have anything to do with it. It was purely his idea. I don’t want anybody up here to think I was in on this guy’s scheme.”
Teddy nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing rubs off on you. Now tell me what happened. Tell me everything. I’ll need to know it all.”
“This guy - his name is Jacobson - decided to bribe a terrorist in order to get a list of local and traveling Palestinians who were engaged in killing Israelis, kidnapping westerners, blowing up airplanes and the like.” Putnam paused, audibly exhaled and slowly shook his head. “Without any authorization of any kind, Jacobson took money from an Agency account to fund his bribery. I didn’t have a thing to do with it, Teddy.”
Teddy nodded sympathetically. “How much did you lose?”
“We didn’t lose a cent, the bribe was never delivered.”
“Then you don’t have much of a problem. What nobody knows won’t hurt you.”
“There’s a complication,” Putnam said in an uneasy tone. “When Jacobson tried to pull it off, one of our guys got killed. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t in on it. He hadn’t been in Damascus for more than a couple of days. I think Jacobson talked him into being a delivery boy. Because of Jacobson’s unauthorized bribery, one of our men is dead.” Putnam emphasized the word “unauthorized”.
“Of course, I called for an investigation. I assigned it to another of our newer people, Agent G. G. Grant. She did a good job - possibly too good a job. She dug up the whole story. I’ve got her report with me. Here it is.” He handed a folder to Teddy, saying: “Take a look at it. I’m afraid Jacobson might lie to save his skin and try to implicate me.”
Teddy quickly skimmed the report. “Have you filed this thing, yet?”
“No, I haven’t.” The purpose of Henry Putnam’s visit then became apparent. “I hoped, maybe, you might have given Jacobson some special Projects Branch work?” Putnam’s rising inflection changed the statement into a question.
