[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
CIA, via the OSS, had come late to the business. It was a matter
of honor that we learn from our mistakes and overtake the
field. After my initial lessons in South Asia, I became part of
our effort to maintain a perfect record of success, and helped
conduct more than 150 such operations during twenty-five
years of service in positions ranging from junior TSD Graphics
artist to senior Agency officer. That flawless record remains
intact, to the best of my knowledge.
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 141
This achievement was not incidental. We were always ready
for the day we would have to bring one of our assets (and their
extended families, if necessary) in from the cold. Although
many assets did not escape because they had already been ar-
rested or compromised before we could try to rescue them,
once we undertook to do so, it was an effort that never failed.
The inventive clandestine means we used to survive urgent
situations have often been disparaged in the press, but they
were a source of great pride and confidence for us.
Correctly appraising the strengths and weaknesses of border
controls, such as those employed at the airport, was vital to
overcoming the exfiltration challenge. David and I had just
obtained the most current knowledge of the entry procedures.
We would have to rely on the experiences of the local officers
and Jacob for the exit formalities, acknowledging the possibility
that we might have to run a prober through the exit controls
at the last minute to determine if there were any new wrinkles.
While awaiting word from Headquarters on the cover and
route issues, we began preparing two sets of documents for
NESTOR, one to be used at the international airport for the
primary option, and the second to function as a fallback set,
which could be used elsewhere if a final reconnaissance of the
terminal revealed an unacceptably high surveillance presence.
NESTOR turned out to be an ideal subject. He was fluent in
English and spoke excellent German, allowing us to choose
from a variety of nationalities. TSD Headquarters had sent an
adequate supply of third-country documents, including pass-
ports, driver s licenses, and national ID cards. We also had
plenty of window dressing, such as business and personal
correspondence and stationery, and the absolutely essential
pocket litter, supplied by the local base, to which we added
domestic travel materials, such as the brochures David and I
had collected at the hotels and travel agencies. Since the bio-
data pages of the passports and
142 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
identity documents were blank, we had tabulae rasae on which
we could build a new persona a rare advantage in defector
cases, where time constraints and remote locations usually
forced us to play the few cards we were dealt.
Once Headquarters approved an option, however, we d
have to address the problem of airline tickets in two identities,
showing the ostensible cover itineraries for travel into the
country, as well as the primary and secondary out. But, given
local currency restrictions and the intense surveillance of airline
offices, we couldn t risk purchasing tickets here. We needed
time to arrange a hand carry from another city along the
route of NESTOR s cover legend. Having such a valid swatch
of tickets provided the details to which local customs officials
would be extremely alert. Since NESTOR might very likely
come face-to-face with a KGB security goon who knew him,
creating an effective disguise that would hold up to the relent-
less heat, as well as the physical and emotional stress of his
passage through the airport, was an especially daunting task
for Jacob. The disguise had to use a minimum of spooky
materials, which were in danger of coming undone at the
critical moment. At the same time, Jacob had to make signific-
ant changes in NESTOR s most distinctive characteristics; a
great deal of the challenge lay in Jacob s ability to gain
NESTOR s confidence and convince him that he could adopt
a completely new personality that would not appear wooden
or contrived under stress. This would require Jacob s most as-
tute assessment of NESTOR s true self, which could only be
achieved by quickly establishing a bond of trust.
LEAVING TOWN THAT night, our taxi dropped us at the bazaar
near a red brick Mogul fort, a combination of a multistall
junkyard and a counterfeit luxury-goods assembly line, where
we were offered genuine
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 143
Gucci or Chanel purses for five dollars U.S. Again, this break
in the taxi ride gave us a chance to make sure we were not
under vehicle surveillance. While David purchased mosquito
coils, I bought some Agfa portrait paper so that the photos I
would print for NESTOR s documents would appear to have
been made in Europe.
When we entered the delicious air-conditioning of the
Southern Paradise Resort lobby for dinner, I was struck by an
idea. Neither of us wanted to feed the mosquitoes in the stuffy
little beach cottage again.
Let s see if they have a room, I suggested.
David shook his head in dejection. Already tried.
But I strode confidently to the front desk. The haughty young
clerk shook his head before I finished my question. I am truly
sorry, sir. We have nothing available, and unfortunately, there
is no chance.
I slid my hand over the polished marble, palm down. My
friend and I are going into the bar for a drink. Perhaps there
will be a cancellation. Opening my fingers slightly, I revealed
a rolled banknote, the equivalent of ten dollars.
The money vanished with a subtlety that would have im-
pressed a professional magician. Certainly, sir. Please check
with me shortly.
An hour later, David and I were installed in a VIP suite fa-
cing the beach, having enjoyed real showers featuring unlim-
ited hot water. I poured the scotch, while David tried to find
an English-speaking channel on the antique television set. All
we had to watch for the moment was a local quiz show and a
scholarly lecture given by a Muslim professor. We decided it
was time for dinner.
Having again feasted on the seafood buffet, accompanied
by a chilled bottle of Portuguese wine, we both felt invigorated.
The nearby nightclub seduced us with the mesmerizing beat
of drums and tambourines. Groping our way through the
sultry darkness, we were
144 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
fascinated by the voluptuous young bellydancer on stage, an
Anglo-Indian by the looks of her, shimmying in the spotlight.
All around us, the eyes of Asian gentlemen dressed in conser-
vative European suits were fixed on the woman. Her stage
name was Heather, according to the blaring marquee, and she
peeled off one veil after another, finally revealing her generous
endowments as she danced in only the skimpiest halter and
G-string. The spectacle was certainly racy stuff for the subcon-
tinent, but I imagined that the luxury tourist hotel s location
on the outskirts of the city gave the nightclub a more per-
missive atmosphere.
The small band picked up the tempo and Heather skirted
the edge of the stage, trying to lure one of the customers to
join her in the spotlight. They steadfastly refused.
Then to our surprise, she arrived at our table. Since we were
supposed to be tourists, I figured we should act the part. I was
up on the stage gyrating with Heather when she suddenly
loosened my tie and began to unbutton my shirt. Leaning close,
she called over the noise of the drums, This doesn t bother
you?
I felt her cool hand sliding over my chest. Not really, I
lied.
Then she leaned even closer and spoke into my ear. Asian
gentlemen can t do this kind of thing, you know. At least not
in public. Before the song finished, my jacket was off and my
shirt was peeled down to the waist. The crowd was aghast,
but no one had left the room. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
CIA, via the OSS, had come late to the business. It was a matter
of honor that we learn from our mistakes and overtake the
field. After my initial lessons in South Asia, I became part of
our effort to maintain a perfect record of success, and helped
conduct more than 150 such operations during twenty-five
years of service in positions ranging from junior TSD Graphics
artist to senior Agency officer. That flawless record remains
intact, to the best of my knowledge.
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 141
This achievement was not incidental. We were always ready
for the day we would have to bring one of our assets (and their
extended families, if necessary) in from the cold. Although
many assets did not escape because they had already been ar-
rested or compromised before we could try to rescue them,
once we undertook to do so, it was an effort that never failed.
The inventive clandestine means we used to survive urgent
situations have often been disparaged in the press, but they
were a source of great pride and confidence for us.
Correctly appraising the strengths and weaknesses of border
controls, such as those employed at the airport, was vital to
overcoming the exfiltration challenge. David and I had just
obtained the most current knowledge of the entry procedures.
We would have to rely on the experiences of the local officers
and Jacob for the exit formalities, acknowledging the possibility
that we might have to run a prober through the exit controls
at the last minute to determine if there were any new wrinkles.
While awaiting word from Headquarters on the cover and
route issues, we began preparing two sets of documents for
NESTOR, one to be used at the international airport for the
primary option, and the second to function as a fallback set,
which could be used elsewhere if a final reconnaissance of the
terminal revealed an unacceptably high surveillance presence.
NESTOR turned out to be an ideal subject. He was fluent in
English and spoke excellent German, allowing us to choose
from a variety of nationalities. TSD Headquarters had sent an
adequate supply of third-country documents, including pass-
ports, driver s licenses, and national ID cards. We also had
plenty of window dressing, such as business and personal
correspondence and stationery, and the absolutely essential
pocket litter, supplied by the local base, to which we added
domestic travel materials, such as the brochures David and I
had collected at the hotels and travel agencies. Since the bio-
data pages of the passports and
142 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
identity documents were blank, we had tabulae rasae on which
we could build a new persona a rare advantage in defector
cases, where time constraints and remote locations usually
forced us to play the few cards we were dealt.
Once Headquarters approved an option, however, we d
have to address the problem of airline tickets in two identities,
showing the ostensible cover itineraries for travel into the
country, as well as the primary and secondary out. But, given
local currency restrictions and the intense surveillance of airline
offices, we couldn t risk purchasing tickets here. We needed
time to arrange a hand carry from another city along the
route of NESTOR s cover legend. Having such a valid swatch
of tickets provided the details to which local customs officials
would be extremely alert. Since NESTOR might very likely
come face-to-face with a KGB security goon who knew him,
creating an effective disguise that would hold up to the relent-
less heat, as well as the physical and emotional stress of his
passage through the airport, was an especially daunting task
for Jacob. The disguise had to use a minimum of spooky
materials, which were in danger of coming undone at the
critical moment. At the same time, Jacob had to make signific-
ant changes in NESTOR s most distinctive characteristics; a
great deal of the challenge lay in Jacob s ability to gain
NESTOR s confidence and convince him that he could adopt
a completely new personality that would not appear wooden
or contrived under stress. This would require Jacob s most as-
tute assessment of NESTOR s true self, which could only be
achieved by quickly establishing a bond of trust.
LEAVING TOWN THAT night, our taxi dropped us at the bazaar
near a red brick Mogul fort, a combination of a multistall
junkyard and a counterfeit luxury-goods assembly line, where
we were offered genuine
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 143
Gucci or Chanel purses for five dollars U.S. Again, this break
in the taxi ride gave us a chance to make sure we were not
under vehicle surveillance. While David purchased mosquito
coils, I bought some Agfa portrait paper so that the photos I
would print for NESTOR s documents would appear to have
been made in Europe.
When we entered the delicious air-conditioning of the
Southern Paradise Resort lobby for dinner, I was struck by an
idea. Neither of us wanted to feed the mosquitoes in the stuffy
little beach cottage again.
Let s see if they have a room, I suggested.
David shook his head in dejection. Already tried.
But I strode confidently to the front desk. The haughty young
clerk shook his head before I finished my question. I am truly
sorry, sir. We have nothing available, and unfortunately, there
is no chance.
I slid my hand over the polished marble, palm down. My
friend and I are going into the bar for a drink. Perhaps there
will be a cancellation. Opening my fingers slightly, I revealed
a rolled banknote, the equivalent of ten dollars.
The money vanished with a subtlety that would have im-
pressed a professional magician. Certainly, sir. Please check
with me shortly.
An hour later, David and I were installed in a VIP suite fa-
cing the beach, having enjoyed real showers featuring unlim-
ited hot water. I poured the scotch, while David tried to find
an English-speaking channel on the antique television set. All
we had to watch for the moment was a local quiz show and a
scholarly lecture given by a Muslim professor. We decided it
was time for dinner.
Having again feasted on the seafood buffet, accompanied
by a chilled bottle of Portuguese wine, we both felt invigorated.
The nearby nightclub seduced us with the mesmerizing beat
of drums and tambourines. Groping our way through the
sultry darkness, we were
144 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
fascinated by the voluptuous young bellydancer on stage, an
Anglo-Indian by the looks of her, shimmying in the spotlight.
All around us, the eyes of Asian gentlemen dressed in conser-
vative European suits were fixed on the woman. Her stage
name was Heather, according to the blaring marquee, and she
peeled off one veil after another, finally revealing her generous
endowments as she danced in only the skimpiest halter and
G-string. The spectacle was certainly racy stuff for the subcon-
tinent, but I imagined that the luxury tourist hotel s location
on the outskirts of the city gave the nightclub a more per-
missive atmosphere.
The small band picked up the tempo and Heather skirted
the edge of the stage, trying to lure one of the customers to
join her in the spotlight. They steadfastly refused.
Then to our surprise, she arrived at our table. Since we were
supposed to be tourists, I figured we should act the part. I was
up on the stage gyrating with Heather when she suddenly
loosened my tie and began to unbutton my shirt. Leaning close,
she called over the noise of the drums, This doesn t bother
you?
I felt her cool hand sliding over my chest. Not really, I
lied.
Then she leaned even closer and spoke into my ear. Asian
gentlemen can t do this kind of thing, you know. At least not
in public. Before the song finished, my jacket was off and my
shirt was peeled down to the waist. The crowd was aghast,
but no one had left the room. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]