Tag: cia

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

BEVAN LONGHORN is in his office Monday morning, his desk covered in
paperwork that he has to get through before the day is over. His personnel have
just adjusted to Matthew Roberts’s absence and Bevan has been left with only two
middle managers to handle the work of three. He considers promoting one officer
to Matthew’s post, but there are twenty-odd people to choose from, all qualified for
the position. Bevan must give it more serious consideration.
He wants to make major changes to the structure of the office, but he has to
fight with the rest of the brass, particularly the ones well-connected with the
administration and the state department. He cannot put up any longer with the
way things are done and the way things they produce are used by the hawks in
higher places.
He has his own circle of people who would agree with him on certain
things; it would just be a matter of rallying the troops. His friend Jerry
Wolverton is the best example. He retired as a three- star general and left the
army seven years ago with pride and a sense of accomplishment after working
in Iraq for five and a half years, in charge of the reconstruction of public
projects that accommodated all Iraqi government personnel of various
departments. Jeremiah Wolverton got his extra star and a very good severance
package, and although retired, can still pull a lot of strings both in the state
department and within the ranks of the army.
Bevan decides to call him.
“Hello, Bevan, my old friend. Are you still in service?” Jerry jokes when he
hears who’s calling him.
“Of course I’m still in service. We cannot all retire at the same time; the army
wouldn’t know what to do without us”
“You’re right about that, my good, old friend; what makes you remember
me? Trouble?”
It’s Bevan’s turn to laugh at the general’s comment.
“No, no trouble at all; just the need to say hi to my good friend and see what
he’s up to these days.”
“Well, I’m doing okay. I play the odd golf game here and there, I walk a lot,
still take holidays with the old woman; other than that, nothing much.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

of his report to Department Chairman Hoefert, so it was important to convey just the right tone. For example, he would make much of the fact that this particular tour of western students had been allowed in to the philological library at the State Institute in Leningrad—a great honour usually requiring a permit from the Ministry of Education. He, Professor Chopyk, was actually allowed right into the stacks, to be surrounded by a rich storehouse of scholarly literature. So much for Professor Hoefert and his boast that he had been allowed into the stacks at the Lenin Library. This was a feather in Chopyk’s cap. Of course, he would not include in the notes that he had bribed the lowly assistant librarian (American dollars), the attendant (bottle of brandy) and even the security guard (flattery and a Cadbury’s bar) to allow him the brief two hours in the library’s inner sanctum. And that those two hours were ones in which the chief librarian was on her extended lunch hour or he would have stood no chance at all.
He set his pen down for a moment to relish the memory once more. The porthole was open a crack and a fresh morning breeze played across his face. Other wonderful events had crowded in since his time in the library: touring the art treasures of the Hermitage, attending the Kirov ballet, seeing the monumental statue of Mother Russia at the former Stalingrad, and cruising a stretch of the Volga where no other westerners had been allowed. Russia—no, the Soviet Union—was full of such grand experiences, though none could compare with those two hours spent among the ancient tomes of his linguistic mentors. The journal was filling up.
He supposed he would have to write something about the progress of the students—they would receive a grade, after all—and something about the leadership qualities of his second in command, Jennifer White. Chopyk frowned. It was difficult to write about Jennifer. On the one hand, she had done a miraculous job in bringing some of the younger students up to scratch with their Russian. Their verbal abilities had improved greatly during the trip. Of course, total immersion always did that. But they seemed to have more facility with the language, more interest in it. Their written skills had improved, too, if he could believe the mini-essays that Jennifer was assigning them. Even Linda Appleton, whose grammar was superb but who couldn’t string together a simple sentence, had improved. Last night she had actually delivered a brief oral report in Russian on the subject of architecture.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892#ebook

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Have you talked to Ibrahim?”
“Yes, I spoke to him this morning. He sends you his greetings and says he
would like to see you soon, also. He says he understands. You and my uncle
obviously go back a long way if you talk to each other in your secret code.”
Bevan laughs at his comment, “We don’t talk in code, however, you are right,
Ibrahim and I go back a long way. You have to understand, Hakim. I owe a lot to
Ibrahim; he’s been my guardian angel, having helped me a number of times over
the years and the last time was just a little too close.”
“When was the last time, Admiral?”
“Please call me Bevan. Admiral is too official and it’s not my style. Bevan is
good enough. The last time was during the war with Iran. I was there for a while
providing intelligence liaison within certain army units. Once, while traveling, I
was abducted and held in a dark place for two and a half weeks by a group of
fanatics with no specific affiliation or demands; poor guys didn’t know what they
wanted to accomplish, if anything. They kept me imprisoned until your uncle
discovered my tracks and got me out; don’t ask me how. Maybe he paid a ransom
or maybe he used other means, who knows? He never told me how he did it,
although I’ve asked him a number of times. The result is I’m alive today, thanks
to Ibrahim. There were a lot of beheadings in those days, as you probably know.”
Hakim sees another side of his uncle that he was not aware of until now. The
Admiral continues.
“He knows what I do, where I am, where I come from, and everything else
and I know a lot more than what you think you know about Ibrahim. It’s a
two-way street; he trusts me with everything and I trust him the same way, 100
percent.”
“What would you like me to do or tell him?” Hakim asks.
“Only do as he tells you, nothing else,” Bevan says, looking into the young
man’s eyes.
“That’s no problem. Am I going to see you again, Bevan, before you go?”
“No, I don’t think so; however, if you ever need me, you know how to find
me.”
“Yes, I know. By the way, perhaps it would be nice for you to come and visit
at some time after I move into my new apartment. That will be around the end of
October; better yet, I’m planning to have a housewarming party when I move in.
I’ll call you to come and have a drink with us; is that okay?”
Bevan smiles, “I’ll be very happy to do so, Hakim. Please call and let me know
when.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“What do you mean by that?”
“Look, it doesn’t have your name on it.” She had the sensation of the floor moving away from her and decided to run for the door while her dignity was still intact.
Back in her cabin tears overwhelmed her. You give me hope. She missed Volodya more than ever. She sat on the bed and smoothed the crumpled paper, studying it, trying to understand what Chopyk had meant. True, it was not addressed to her but had been sent in care of Natasha Kuchkov as tour guide. A number followed—presumably that represented the bureaucratic Intourist agency’s official designation for the tour. If it had not been intended for her, then who? Did he really send it? Volodya was a very common name—and there was no last name. So how did Natasha know whom to check? And how did Natasha know the telegram was meant for her?
Her class that afternoon was conducted in a pall of discomfort. Most of the students had overheard the dispute in the dining room without knowing exactly what had transpired. She thought of having Paul lead the class instead of her but she couldn’t find him anywhere. The mood stayed with her through the formal dinner that evening, well into the hour of entertainment—several of the students had learned Russian poems or ditties and were amusing the Americans by reciting the translations—and it lasted on into the evening.
As she lay awake, she began to have doubts about her behaviour. Maybe Chopyk was only being a good guy, after all—meddlesome but showing genuine concern. Maybe Volodya was a dead loss. After some agonizing, she realized that Volodya must know Natasha. Of course. He must have known her when he had worked for Intourist. She had even said she was from Leningrad. They would have been colleagues. That would explain a lot. So maybe Natasha had known about Volodya and her all along. Could he have wanted Natasha to see the telegram—maybe to let her know that he was attempting to leave the country? Could it be that Natasha was helping? As Jennifer rolled on to her back in the cabin berth she felt the increased pressure from Volodya as if it were some live thing pressing on her chest. What a day! Even the strange comment from Hank in the hallway that morning. It all fit into the stew. She fervently hoped that sleep would give her some respite from her muddled thoughts.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Yes, he spent so many years earning blood money, Bevan. I know; you’re
right. The agency is the first and foremost concern for all of you. The agency, no
matter what the result, no matter what the human cost,” Emily says, angrily.
Bevan knows this feeling of helplessness, this feeling of betrayal, and this
feeling of loss, particularly when the loss is for something you don’t agree with.
He knows all this because he feels that way most of the time himself.
“Yet, there is a reason why everything happens as it happens, my dear Emily,”
he says, as a way of inserting a sense of justice into something gone wrong.
“Also, don’t forget the police lieutenant mentioned that you told him, as you
told me, that Matthew was cleaning his service pistol that morning. After you
left, the accident took place.”
“Yes, Bevan, the accident took place while I was out with Cathy,” she repeats
monotonously.

The devastation is impossible to describe and the words are so humble and poor, trying
to explain to the flawless mind the inconceivable, the disappearance of logic, and
the return of mass mania for the slavery of feelings in the thirst for blood. The blood is
someone’s, anyone’s, as long as blood is shed and it paints the roads and the cobblestone
streets of this desolate place in red, this place that belongs to people who know
well the hunger and thirst for life.
The houses are mostly demolished; one cannot tell the wall of one from the yard
of the other—the doors, windows, gates, all destroyed. The roofs have collapsed and
walls lean on other walls as injured people try to hang onto one another in order to
stand. They resemble people trying to stay on their feet as others struggle to walk
uphill on crutches.
People shyly and full of fear come out of one hole or another, one by one, like
rodents in the fields popping their heads out to see the devastated condition of the
land and the devastated condition of the human race whose advanced technology
has enabled them to create so much destruction. People come out of their holes to
witness whether death has surpassed them, whether he went to the neighbor’s
house or took some unknown person; after all, Hades is here to take. They come out
of their holes to see whether Hades is still around in the form of a bullet from the
rifle of the soldier from the foreign land. The older ones have seen this before and
know well the pain and anger, but the children, for the first time, taste the loss of a
mother or a father who has died under the cement of their collapsed house, or the
loss of a brother or a dear friend killed by the non-discriminating bombs that fall
from the arms of the sky. The children run out into the desolate backyards and
behind the armored cars of the soldiers. They try to steal something of value…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

VOLGA RIVER, JULY 17, 1974
“She’s madder than a hornet, and she’s calling for your blood,” teased Marty. He ducked out of Hank’s way. It was lunch time on the morning after Hank had found Lona’s mysterious black book. “I guess she tortured your waitress friend until she confessed.”
“I’ll go find her,” Hank muttered. “I don’t want Chopyk or Jennifer to find out. Don’t say anything, okay?”
He didn’t have far to look. They smacked into one another at the door to the dining room.
“You…creep,” Lona growled at Hank, her usual Cheshire cat smile missing. “Now, give me back my book!”
He couldn’t resist one last stand. “Uh…whatcha talking about?” She was about to raise her voice again, when he hustled her down the hall, one hand firmly on her back, until they were out of earshot of the passengers.
“Okay, so I took it. It was a stupid thing to do, but I wanted to know why you’re on this trip—and don’t give me that line about being a student.”
Lona drew herself up to her full height and bristled like an alley cat prepared to do battle. She thrust out her hand imperiously. “It’s none of your business, you thief. I want my book back right now!”
Hank knew when he was licked. “I just …heck, I’d still like to know. I’ll get it for you.” He walked her to his cabin, and she waited at the door, tapping her toe, until he placed the worn black book in her hand. “Come on, Lona. I just wanted to get to know you. Maybe we could still be friends.”
In fact, the book had been a big disappointment—besides a list of Russian names and addresses there were only a few other notes on icons

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

EMILY IS GETTING READY for Matthew’s funeral service at Mount View
Memorial. Jennifer and Hakim should be at the house soon. Talal is there with
her, as he has been ever since Matthew’s death, and Emily appreciates that. She’s
in love with this young Iraqi man with the lilting voice and the cute smile. They
haven’t made love during these last days and she wonders how Talal feels about
that. But she is very appreciative of the time and space he has given her.
He has prepared a simple breakfast and goes upstairs to see if she is ready to eat
before they leave. It’s early morning and a good cup of coffee, at least, is in order. He
finds her out of the shower and in front of the mirror doing her eyes. He hugs her
from behind. She cuddles in his arms and lays her head back on his shoulder.
“Are you hungry, sweet Emily?”
She smiles at him in the mirror and nods yes.
“Are you hungry, sweet Talal?”
His eyes look deeply into hers in the mirror, and as he rubs her buttocks he
laughs.
“Yes, my sweet Emily, yes. However, now is time for breakfast. Let’s have a
good cup of coffee.”
She turns and hugs him tightly; she seeks his lips and kisses him passionately.
“I’m in love with you, sweet Talal, and I don’t care what tomorrow brings. I
don’t care how long this is going to last.”
“I’m in love with you, too, sweet Emily, and I know this is going to last a long
time.”
They go downstairs to the family room and he serves their coffee toasted
bread and jam. She leans closer to him and kisses him once more when Jennifer
and Hakim come in and see them kissing. Jennifer looks at Hakim, who smiles,
“So what, Jennifer? They are adults. Why are you looking at me as if they have
done something wrong?”
Talal gets up to greet them and says to Jennifer, “Your mother is a beautiful
person. Be proud of her in the same way that she’s very proud of you.”
“I know my mother,Talal. I just find myself wondering and I don’t know why.”
Emily smiles at Hakim and asks him, “What happened with the apartment?”
“Well, the deal was finalized today. The agent called earlier…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz With Ella

On By vequinoxIn Uncategorized1 Comment

excerpt

and pedal off. As soon as Tanya strolled in the other direction, Paul and Vera emerged from the bushes.
“We must go in and see.” Vera dragged him to the rickety building.
“We don’t need to,” he demurred.
“You think I am a spy, but it is good to have this information. It is good to know about our government officials. It can help us.”
“And I thought you would be a good communist,” said Paul.
She stopped in the path and stared at him. “But I am being a good communist. I am.”
She darted away into the boathouse and Paul followed to find her casting about widely at this love nest as if she would find something incriminating that she could take away.
★
The home of Fyodor Shukshin was set half a mile down a winding dirt path that branched off the main regional road. It was a dark, old, wooden house with some remnants of the original gingerbread still clinging to the eaves, though it had long needed paint and repair. At the gate stood a cement well covered with a sloping roof and this had been kept in trim condition. The front yard was a small patch of dirt with signs of thorough grazing by chickens now gone to roost. Although the light was waning, Paul could see that the surrounding fields were covered in growth: beet greens and carrot tops showed on one side, bright green potato plants on the other. They entered the house through a groaning, battered door and Vera greeted her father.
Vera’s sudden return to the farm even with a stranger in tow bothered Fyodor Shukshin not one bit. Apparently she was in the habit of dropping in at home at any opportunity in her work schedule.
“So it’s you,” he snorted. “Come from across the Volga.”
“Some day I’ll go much farther away than Toglyatti,” she said, smiling at her father fondly, then turning to Paul. “Meanwhile, I like to visit here.”
Her father returned the smile a bit cynically. “Of course, when you can get fresh vegetables here—and sell them for a profit—why wouldn’t you like to visit your old father?”
She grinned, searched through the cupboards and served pickles in a bowl accompanied by slices of heavy black bread. At first Vera’s father appeared delighted to meet the foreigner.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

it’s best for their morale, for their belief in the rationality of what they do every
day, and for their steadfastness in moving ahead. He has been around these
people and this agency for a long time since leaving Baghdad, since the days he
thought he had a good future with the CIA. Time has passed along with his belief
in a good future. What went wrong? He has wondered many a time; Ibrahim is
right. Bevan knows deep in his heart that Ibrahim is right. The problem is what
the agency does and what his department does is often questionable. This has
troubled him for a while. He has a hard time understanding the reasoning
behind decisions taken that are based on a mounting fear in the psyche of the
American people. He has been abroad for many years in which he has come
across people of many different nationalities; Muslims and others and they are
seldom the way they have been portrayed by the administration and by the
Ameerican media at the best of times. Following the end of the term of the “war
president” the people elected a different party and the stand of the country
abroad softened a bit, but after a couple of terms they were back at the same old
doctrine of pre-emptive strikes whenever it felt right, and Bevan knows that’s
not the best approach. Sometimes it’s better to sit and talk to a person instead of
unleashing the power of the killing machine and later trying to find answers to
questions you never asked to begin with.
He knows something has to be done about all this. Yet there are times when
he doubts even himself, even the comments from Ibrahim, his good friend. Does
he doubt his friend? A number of times he has thought about that, as well. After a
while his mind gets stuck on the idea that something has to be done with this
department, something has to change; it cannot keep on going like this for ever,
it cannot keep on going on with the killings and the atrocities. Yes, he knows,
something has to change.
He has tried over the past five or six years to change the mentality of a
number of people whom he has talked to; but has found it difficult to convince
most of the people in higher positions that what they do and how they approach
things is wrong. Some seem to thrive on other peoples’ misery and cannot
suddenly change direction because Bevan Longhorn wants it. He knows the only
way something will ever change is when something dramatic happens. Bevan has
been thinking about that for quite a while.
Ibrahim is right; substantial change takes place only when dramatic events
precede, like the attack in New York in 2001. He takes a copy of the memo he has
issued to his personnel and puts it in his wallet. He closes the file and calls his
secretary to pick it up. Then he finishes eating his sandwich and asks Dorothy to
remove his cold coffee.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Elizabeth and the other a Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep. The two laughing women that accompanied Slava looked on with interest.
“Let me give you something in return.” A dignified Slava reciprocated with two artistically decorated stamps from his album, which he had brought along for this purpose. Lona, who was seated at the next table, apparently took her cue from Jennifer because she also rummaged in her purse for a gift, pulled out an American nickel, and began explaining the significance of the buffalo to a group of enraptured young men.
By the time the party broke up, some two hours later, the students and visitors had warmed to each other. Jennifer had learned something about their lives: their brothers and sisters, their schools, their music and their anxiety that they would somehow discredit themselves in front of their superiors on the day’s visit—this last concern added in a whisper. She glanced around. But their commissar was still engrossed in conversation with Chopyk and both Ivan Nikolaevich and Natasha had disappeared—presumably leaving the group in good hands. What a relief, Jennifer thought. Finally, Nadezdha brayed her goodbyes to Chopyk, while Lona exchanged addresses with at least four of the panting youths.
Just before he left the dining room, Slava turned to Jennifer. “Stay with us, Zhennifer, please. You can have a good life here. Stay with us.” She was stunned by the request and could only smile and shake her head. Good god, were any of the others asked to stay?
As she walked the trio down to the wharf and waved them goodbye, she did not notice that Paul had also walked his new friend, Vera, to the bus and was now standing behind a copse of rowan trees on the footpath. And if she had not been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she would have overheard Vera explain to Nadezhda that she would not take the bus back with the others, but instead walk to her father’s farm, only one kilometre down the road.
“On your way, then, Vera Fyodorovna,” the political commissar called out to her. “Get there before dark.”
“See you later, Nadezhda Ivanova,” she called out happily as she ran toward the rowan trees.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246