The Elegant Walk-In

Inconsistencies cannot both be right; but, imputed to man, they may both be true.

—Samuel Johnson, Rasselas

“The COS wants to see you right away.”

I stopped typing, looked at Jack, and followed the COS’s secretary across the cramped common room to the other side of the station, into the COS’s own cramped office. The CIA is always given the shit spaces in our facilities overseas. I’ve always thought that this is because allocating work spaces is one of the rare instances XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX. Dilapidated and cramped quarters had long since taken on a charm for me. Spacious and nice offices seemed somehow too easy, not real enough; surely an emotional legacy, too, of my years living in unheated and moldy garrets above transvestite bars in Paris, while classmates were forging their way up the corporate ladder in Manhattan.

Peter, the COS, had me close the door. Josh, my colleague in the station who had entertained us with nearly unbelievable tales of personal disaster and survival over dinner one night, was in the office with us. He looked serious, slightly high-strung.

“There is a walk-in. I’d like you to take it with Josh.”

It was a little unusual for two officers to take a walk-in, but I was the most experienced officer in the station, and Peter had come to trust my judgment, while Josh was very talented, but relatively new to the C/O world. This would be his first walk-in.

“What do we know about him? What’s he say he wants to tell us?”

“He says that he has ‘important, sensitive information’ he wants to tell to ‘the appropriate authorities.’ That’s you. That’s all we know. You know the drill. Find out what he has to say. Listen. Offer nothing. Come see me when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

Josh and I left Peter’s office and made our way to meet the walk-in.

This was interesting. A walk-in was someone who had come to the office and claimed to have confidential, intelligence-related information. Handling them was, initially, easier than doing developmental work, because a walk-in sought to convey information to the United States, whereas standard operational work was much more circuitous and duplicitous. This would require assessment and good operational skills, but some of the cards at least were on the table from the get-go.

The walk-in was sitting in a holding room, waiting to tell his story. Josh and I would hear and draw him out, to start to vet whether he was legitimate, had information that merited follow-on contact, or was a provocation sent by a hostile service (which could be virtually any foreign service; friends do not exist in foreign relations or in intelligence; there are only moments or phases of shared interests). We also would assess whether he might be one of the large number of nutcases who range from embassy to embassy, peddling delusions and living in a mental netherworld; or whether he was one of the equally large number of hustlers on the make, incredibly trying to scam the CIA and lie his way to some CIA money; or whether he might be one of the also surprising number of off-kilter thrill seekers, who are titillated by touching, if only for a moment, the world of intelligence. Most walk-ins knew less than they imagined, or claimed. Once in a while, though, a walk-in could actually have critical information.

“My name is Cliff,” I told the walk-in as he rose from a sofa to meet me in a windowless room in our building, this one with generic wall hangings of pleasant scenes of bucolic America, and furnishings like the lounge in a 1960s dentist’s office. I often amused myself by using the throwaway alias “Cliff.” Cliff Leach was one of my best friends and my former college roommate. He knew where I worked, though not what I did. For years I had mildly teased him that were he ever detained by a mustachioed foreign customs official and taken to a back room for questioning, he could thank me, but that of course I would deny any knowledge of a Cliff Leach, of any conceivable reason his name might have come to the attention of foreign intelligence services, or that this event had anything to do with me whatsoever. Josh also introduced himself with a throwaway alias.

The man in front of us XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX handed me his card and sat down again, crossing his legs with easy confidence. His clothing and entire bearing were elegant.

“We understand that you have an important reason for coming to meet with us,” I began directly.

“Of course. I thank you for meeting with me in such an unusual way,” the man said.

The walk-in described his background, speaking with poise and quiet authority. He enunciated his words with care. He dropped many names of prominent individuals with whom he claimed to have worked.

I turned to the business at hand.

“Tell us why you have asked to see us. What do you think we need to know, or would be interested in knowing? Why have you approached us here, now?”

For the first time, he acted slightly self-important, diffident.

“I want you to know that I oppose all that America is doing XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX. I dislike what your government is doing. But I cannot in good conscience keep this information to myself. I feel obliged to share this information with the Americans—with you. XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX.”

“I don’t want anyone to die, when I have perhaps the means of saving his life. This is true even of those who are not Muslim, even if I disagree with your country’s policies. XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX . So, I am here.”

I had been focused for many weeks on my work with CAPTUS and my team, with keeping our liaison partners happy, reporting the intelligence CAPTUS provided, meeting Headquarters’ requirements and demands, and trying to convince them to amend their view of CAPTUS’s role in the al-Qa’ida network. But the buildup to war with Iraq was in full swing elsewhere in the world, and drew the world’s attention. It was obvious to everyone, inside the Agency and throughout the world, that we were going to invade Iraq, whatever the administration claimed, or whatever it said at the United Nations. The impending invasion came up in casual conversations with locals and foreigners all the time, the moment they learned that one was an American official.

“XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXX.”

The elegant walk-in provided information about the activities of individuals planning to harm official Americans in the Middle East that, if true, could save the lives of many of our fellow citizens.

I asked the walk-in to provide additional details about how he had learned this information. He did so.

Josh and I pressed him to substantiate what he was alleging.

“This is highly precise information, and few men can possibly know it.”

He was not at all ruffled by our skepticism and he explained how he knew the information.

“This is how I can know, and do know,” he explained, reviewing how he had come to know of this threat information. “Now, I am here, telling you.”

The other walk-ins I had handled in my career had been a scruffier, more desperate bunch. XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX. This man was poised and confident. He spoke in logical paragraphs without need of any assistance.

What he told us was dramatic information, if at all true. Most walk-ins claim to possess much more mundane information. This elegant man could possibly save many hundreds of American lives and prove of vital importance to our military planners. A successful officer might encounter one such case in a thirty-year career—if what he was telling me was true.

The meeting lasted about an hour. I listened throughout with interest, but was cool and noncommittal.

Peter was interested in Josh’s and my briefing of the walk-in’s claims, of course, but he was even more noncommittal than I had been to the walk-in himself.

“He dropped a lot of names,” Peter said, clearly skeptical. “I think he’s making a lot of unlikely claims.”

However, for several years just prior to my involvement with CAPTUS I had been deeply involved in the issues the walk-in described.

“No, not really, Peter,” I said. “I worked this stuff. The events and individuals he cites check out. I know of some of the events. I don’t know him, but the events he describes correspond to events as I remember them.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, impressed both with the elegant walk-in, whose plausibility I had just significantly bolstered, and with me, for having known these issues.

“Okay. Well, let’s see. Write it up. Let’s check out this guy’s bona fides.”

We began an urgent effort to verify what the man had told us, to determine whether he was who he claimed to be and could know what he claimed to know. We had to decide whether he was a provocation or a “dangle” to confuse U.S. intelligence authorities.

The man had told us that he would be back in the city where I was working XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX, but had business elsewhere in the world meantime. Josh and I wrote “IMMEDIATE ACTION” cables late into the night after his departure from the embassy XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX . Standard procedure, I also had him thoroughly traced—his background investigated in our files and in the files of trusted liaison partners from a number of countries.

We found that everything he had told me about himself checked out. He was who he said he was, and did what he said he did. He had the access to places and people XXXXXXX he had claimed. We could verify that he knew some of the people he claimed to know XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXX. But what about the claims he had made? I did not know.