Nor did I have to wonder how those critical memorandums worked their way into Martin’s office. Morrison had few equals as a bureaucratic panderer-I’d seen him in action and knew this firsthand. He’d likely found a slick way to have somebody bring them to Martin’s attention.
I said, “And how long were you Martin’s assistant?”
“Four years.”
“Did you travel with him?”
“Not in the beginning. After a year, though, he said I was too indispensable. I handled everything: his correspondence, his speeches, his position papers.”
“Were you still reporting your contacts with Russians?”
“Shit, how could I? On a trip I’d meet hundreds of Russians. I’d be in conference rooms where they were coming in and out. Afterward there’d be a big reception or a dinner with dozens of guests.”
“That’s not good. The prosecution can say you had constant contacts that afforded you ample chances to betray secrets.”
“I was rarely alone. I was almost always with Milt.”
“And he was preoccupied. And he trusted you. He wasn’t watching to see if you were passing microfilms or documents.”
“And what do you expect me to do about that, Drummond?”
“Nothing.” I rubbed my temples as I contemplated the ease with which Eddie could show Morrison’s opportunities for treason. “It’s a vulnerability we have to be aware of. What happened next?”
“After the President was reelected, I told Milt I needed to move on. I explained how the Army worked, that I needed new, increasingly more important positions in order to get promoted.”
“And how did he take that?”
“You know, he said he’d been thinking the same thing. He suggested a position on the National Security Council staff.”
“And you said?”
“Are you kidding? It was perfect. He and I shared a very close personal relationship, were in sync on the issues, and we both knew we’d be watching each other’s backsides.”
“And what did your new duties entail?”
“I headed up the former Soviet Affairs part of the staff. I was the guy who prepared all the interagency policy papers, who briefed the President before trips, who coordinated our positions toward all the former Soviet states.”
I felt a headache start to pulse. Ordinarily an impressive resume is just that: impressive. In his case, it was an anchor tied to his feet. In trying to ascertain what he’d been privy to, I’d learned that for ten years he’d seen everything. I mean, think of what damage Ames and Hanssen had done-both low-level spooks-and all the excitement they’d caused.
I asked, “And what was Mary doing during all those years?”
“Several jobs. She was in Analysis, doing the same kind of work I’d been doing. But when the Ames affair broke, a number of Soviet specialists were caught in the backlash. People who had nothing to do with Ames were beartrapped by other improprieties-cheating on taxes, drinking too much, all kinds of things. Everybody got scrutinized, and the result was a bloodbath. Those who survived became even more valuable because the ranks of trained Sovietologists had been thinned so much.”
“And Mary was one of those survivors?”
“Oh, better than that. Mary helped handle the investigation.”
“Tell me about that.”
“She was the one who discovered that some of the betrayals attributed to Ames couldn’t have been done by him.”
“How’d she uncover that?”
“By correlating the events and assumed disclosures against where Ames was at the time, what he had access to. She realized he couldn’t possibly have done all the damage being blamed on him.”
“And that meant… what? Another mole?”
He nodded. “So the Agency put her in charge of a small, very sensitive compartment to find the other mole. It had to be handled quietly, because people on the Hill were so angry about Ames that they were actually talking about disbanding the CIA. The Agency was scared.”
“The CIA’s general counsel intimated you had knowledge of her activities. Did you?”
“Of course. She was my wife, and I was cleared to know everything she was doing.”
“So you knew about her efforts to find the mole?”
“Actually, I was part of those efforts.”
My headache lurched toward a ten on the Richter scale. I drew a deep breath and said, “Please describe that.”
“It started with filters to see how many employees had access to the knowledge that had been betrayed. That turned up a large group, hundreds of people. So Mary came up with the idea to try a few entrapments: We laid bait for the mole. We designed a few operations and distributed some classified assessments to see if any were leaked to the other side. And I was the guy pushing the bait through the system.”
“And then what happened?”
“Causes and effects were built into each entrapment. We watched for the effects, but we never saw any.”
“And what came next?”
“After several years, they decided to move Mary. She’d had her chance and come up short, so they moved someone else in.”
I shook my head while he waited for the next question. Frankly, I already had enough to think about. He and his wife had lain in bed at night talking about how to catch the mole the government now believed was him. His increasingly important positions gave him access to the most sensitive secrets imaginable, and because he was an Army officer, he hadn’t been subjected to the lie-detector tests CIA people take on a regular basis.
As much as CIA people hate them, the truth is that years of passing those tests bends the benefit of doubt in their direction. To the best I could see, my client had no counterweights to sway the benefit of doubt even remotely in his direction.
I got up and began packing my papers in my briefcase. I said, “One last question.”
“What’s that?”
“At Golden’s press conference this morning, he added a charge that confused me. Adultery. What can you tell me about that?”
In the Uniform Code of Military Justice, adultery’s still considered a crime. It’s rarely prosecuted unless the act occurs between two members of the same unit, in which case it affects the general climate of order and discipline, which is one reason why it’s on the books. Or for when a general officer sleeps with a subordinate, in which case it’s viewed as an abuse of power. Or when somebody’s being court-martialed for other crimes, and you add it to the list of charges as a way to say “screw you.”
He finally said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“You’re sure? I’d hate to get broadsided by some nasty little disclosure here.”
He paused to think a moment, then said, “I had a secretary once who claimed I’d had an affair with her. It was horseshit. The whole thing was thoroughly investigated. There was no substantiation. She was lying.”
“And you think they’re just rehashing some old garbage to add to your charges?”
“It’s the only thing I can imagine. It happened five or six years ago. I was vindicated.”
I nodded and said, “Fine.” Then I leaned across the desk. For obvious reasons, I’d been saving this confrontation for the end. “Last point. If you ever involve me in anything that compromises Mary again, you’ll be looking for a new attorney.”
His head reared back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“When you sent me to ask Mary about Arbatov, you knew damn well the position that put her in. If you weren’t my client I’d knock your ass through that wall.”
He didn’t look at all embarrassed or chagrined. But neither did he try to make any excuses or defend himself. He simply nodded as I walked out.
