‘And now he’s redeeming them, that it?’
‘Well, it probably seemed like a good idea to him at the time. If it happened again — say, tomorrow —he might take a slow boat to Bombay and send me a goodbye telegram when he got there.’
‘Cynical, sir. Downright cynical.’
‘Absolutely,’ O’Hara said. ‘The Game is a world of its own, the dirtiest of all possible worlds. Everything is a lie. Your proficiency depends on how well you lie. They may call it misdirection or put some other bureaucratic handle on it, but lying is what it’s all about. In the Game, an honest man is a dead man.’
‘And that’s why you got out?’
‘Let’s just say my string was getting short. Don’t get me wrong, Mr Howe, I’ve still got friends out there. They just aren’t the kind of folks you’d want to, y’know, sit around the fire toasting marshmallows with.’
‘How so, sir?’
‘Let’s just say their values are different.’
‘I still don’t understand.’
‘Well, I once asked Tony what he wanted out of life, and you know what he said? He looked at me and said, and he was dead serious, he said, “Happiness is a confirmed kill.” A Rhodes scholar!’
‘But doesn’t somebody have to do ii?’
‘Why? After a while it becomes self-serving. If I had my way, they’d ban intelligence the way they want to ban the bomb.’
Howe stared at the ceiling. ‘I suppose. But then we’d have all these spies running around with nothing to do.’
‘It’s not my problem anymore.’
‘And yet you were in the Game, as. you call it, for five, six years?’
‘I was snookered. I wasn’t a career man. Dobbs liked my style and arranged for me to get assigned to the Company. Then after I gave ‘em four good years, the bastard tried to have me killed, which is something else we need to talk about, how you got the Winter Man off my ass.’
‘The letter, sir. Read the letter.’
21 January
Dear Mr Howe:
I take pen in hand knowing full well that in all probability this letter will be promptly disposed of as the ramblings of one who is either deranged or has spent too many nights alone with a bottle. I assure you, sir, I am in full command of all my facilities, and drink is not one of my vices.
My reasons for addressing this to you are quite simple. You are noted for your aggressive news policy; and you have a passion to be first.
First of all, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anthony Virgil Falmouth. I retired six months ago, with Queen’s Honours, from Her Majesty’s Secret Service, after twenty-one years’ service. You may verify this by contacting Sir James Townsend, M16, 6 Chancery Lane, London. Telephone: 962-0000, extension 12.
For obvious reasons, I shall ask that you not discuss the contents of this letter with Sir James.
Because of my position, I have become privy during the past few years, but most particularly in the last few months, to the details of a story that is monstrous in concept and terrifying in potential. Its implications reach into the highest political offices of the world. Properly documented, this information would make the Watergate conspiracy seem like mere schoolboy pranks and, in comparison, even the assassination of President Kennedy will pale.
Mere knowledge of this story has put my life in jeopardy. I am on the run, possibly for the rest of my life. Here are my terms:
First, my price for this information is $250,000, to be paid only after your agent is satisfied that the information is true and worth the price.
Second, there is only one person I feel qualified to represent both you and me in this matter. His name is Frank O’Hara. O’Hara is disarmingly honest, he is a former member of the intelligence community, he is a recognized and respected news reporter, and he has known me for more than five years. For these reasons, I feel he is uniquely qualified not only to judge my veracity but to properly appraise the information.
I have not seen, talked to, or communicated in any way with O’Hara for more than a year.
There is an additional problem with respect to O’Hara. I am sure you will recall his series of articles two years ago, exposing a network of illegal covert actions conducted by the CIA in Africa and the Middle East. The stories resulted in the embarrassment, humiliation and demotion of O’Hara’s former CIA section chief, Ralph Dobbs, a,k.a. the Winter Man.
As a result, Dobbs sanctioned the assassination of O’Hara and offered a fee to several professionals to carry out the job.
I know, I was one of them. I refused the sanction.
O’Hara has been on the dodge ever since. To my knowledge, nobody has turned him up yet.
You will find, attached hereto, a notarized statement concerning Dobbs’s offer to me. Since this is a personal vendetta, and in no way officially concerns the CIA, you might threaten to publish the facts. This will neutralize Dobbs and force him to lift the sanction.
If you can find O’Hara and he is interested in the assignment, tell him to contact the Magician. If I have heard nothing by April 1, I will assume you are not interested.
