The Human Factor. Ishmael JonesЧитать онлайн книгу.
will help them find the right person. Remember that the interrogation situation was created to make you feel helpless and to get you to confess.”
The Agency had taught us to use the concept of “cover within a cover,” in which we were prepared to admit to a lesser crime in order to avert suspicion from the larger crime. For example, if I were picked up by the police while standing on a dark street corner and accused of being a spy, after interrogation I might break down and admit that I was looking for a prostitute.
These officers, however, noted that “most criminals, especially drug dealers, use ‘cover within a cover.’” The officers continued: “When a law enforcement officer sees ‘cover within a cover,’ it really gets his attention and he focuses even harder on the suspect. Better to just stick to your original story.”
It was advice like this that made the interrogation exercise the best in the course. I was disappointed to learn, however, that most of my colleagues had not realized it was an exercise until it was over.
NORMALLY, large surveillance teams were available to train us, but today they had been sent to Baltimore to handle an unexpected “requirement” there. Without our teams, Max and I had no exercises.
Our instructors went to HQs and rounded up a bunch of guys who looked like they weren’t doing anything. The instructors piled these unfortunates into vans, gave them a few rudimentary instructions, and drove them to Old Town Alexandria to be our surveillance team for the day. The Agency and the FBI both used Old Town Alexandria for this training because there was a great deal of foot traffic in the town.
I set out on my run, beginning at the old Torpedo Factory building in Alexandria. Walking my route, I couldn’t detect any surveillance. It started to rain. I tried every trick but still couldn’t see the surveillants. The fundamental principle of surveillance is to see one’s pursuers but not to let them know you do. If the surveillants see you looking, they’ll think you are a spy, because ordinary people don’t imagine that they’re being followed. It’s easy to detect surveillance by backtracking or looking behind, and it’s easy to evade surveillance, but if you do any of that, you’ll be as good as made.
But I couldn’t detect the team. I stood in front of a restaurant on King Street taking shelter from the rain. I eyeballed the area, eyeballing more than I should have. A man standing next to me buying takeout said, “You guys aren’t very good, are you?” The Agency and the FBI did so much surveillance training in the neighborhood, even the locals had become sensitized.
That evening the exercise drew to a close and we met our instructors to discuss the day’s work. The instructors asked us how we’d done. Max and I said we hadn’t seen a single thing all day.
“Neither did we,” the instructors said. “After we released that surveillance team on you, we never saw another one of the surveillants ever again.”
THERE ARE TIMES when it’s necessary to look at surveillants—for instance, when they’re right in front of your face. A colleague who was under close and continuous surveillance, with surveillants waiting outside his door and walking next to him every time he left his apartment building, continued to obey the “look without looking” principle. But this was foolish: If they’re right in your face and still you ignore them, they’ll know you’re a spy. Any sane person would assume he was being stalked, and notify the police.
Our chief instructor told us to surveil any car we saw bearing diplomatic plates with the letters ʺFC.ʺ ʺFCʺ meant the car belonged to the Soviet diplomatic mission. Our instructor insisted that the FBI had chosen FC as short for “f-ing Communist.” He wanted us to surveil them just to give them a hard time. I happened upon FC plates twice. On both occasions the FC car was able quickly to recognize me as a surveillant, and evaded aggressively, by doing illegal U-turns and accelerating to high speeds.
The instructors wanted us to go off to our foreign assignments in a proper spirit of awe and respect for the abilities of a good surveillance team, so they gave our team copies of our pre-planned routes. Sometimes we went through an entire route without seeing the surveillants because they weren’t there, having not bothered to show themselves that day. But in theory, we’d been under surveillance the whole time. “Wow,” we were supposed to think, “we were under surveillance the whole time but didn’t see a thing! I sure learned respect for surveillance!”
As a corollary to “look without looking,” our instructors taught us to go easy on our shadows. “Remember, surveillants are ordinary people working for a salary. Don’t make life difficult for them. If you’re under surveillance, make it easy for them to keep up with you. You don’t want them to hate you. Surveillance teams will knife your car tires and put dirt in your gas tank if they think you’re giving them a hard time.”
Teams from the FBI and the Agency followed us during our exercises. The after-action critiques from the FBI teams were methodical and professional, while those from the Agency teams tended to be emotional and accusatory. The Agency instructors wanted to impress us with the capabilities of surveillance, so they never loosened up, badgering me mercilessly for my ineptitude in the exercises, especially a vehicle surveillance exercise that took place in the Leesburg area of Virginia. I’d felt ill that weekend, because I’d tried to repair a sewage backup in our rental house myself instead of hiring a plumber. The problem wasn’t easy to solve, and I soon was covered in raw, black sewage.
My wife felt sorry for the ribbing I was taking and sought to help out by interjecting, “Oh, but you don’t understand, Ishmael was suffering from a terrible case of diarrhea during that exercise.”
The crones on the surveillance team cackled and sneered. “Oh, poor thing, were you unwell? Is that going to be your excuse when you’re overseas, too?”
Our chief instructor had trained Edward Lee Howard, and had liked him a good deal more than he liked us. “Eddie did the exercise this way,” he’d say, or, “Eddie liked this exercise best.”
A fellow officer, William Loman, had gone overseas only to be blown right back after about six months, having lost a briefcase containing sensitive papers. He’d left it on a bus; the Agency never saw it again. Loman and his family moved into the Oakwood and would be going through the lengthy process of securing a new overseas assignment. It would be a rough road for him with many extended delays.
With nothing for Loman to do, HQs assigned him to oversee some of our surveillance training. Suddenly he wasn’t our colleague, but our boss, and a most domineering boss he proved to be. His fraught years with the Agency had turned him into a terrible martinet. Max and I served as his personal toadies for weeks. “You guys don’t get it,” he said. “There’s something missing in your thinking process. I can’t figure out what it is, but I don’t think you two should be allowed to go overseas.”
We debated how to solve the Loman problem. I couldn’t ask the Worst Spy or Roger for help, having burned both of those bridges. “Let’s put a bag over his head and beat him with telephone books,” Max said.
“I think Loman’s bullying us, so I’m also leaning toward a confrontational solution,” I said, playing straight man.
The next day we carried out a series of exercises Loman had invented, then stood around our cars in the parking lot of the Tysons Corner shopping mall, reviewing our performance. “You guys need a lot of work,” Loman said. “I’m not sure you’ll pass this course. I’m enjoying my new management role, though. I’m good at it.”
Loman’s wife drove up and got out of her car. We’d met her before, and said hello. The day’s exercises were over, and she asked Loman if he would go into the mall and do some shopping. She tore off a list of things for him to buy. They made plans to meet up in the mall and he walked off. She paused until he was out of hearing and said, “Hey, I just wanted to thank you guys for dealing with Loman these past few weeks. I know he’s been a handful. He worked hard to get his overseas assignment and then losing it was really hard on him. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back in the US. It’s meant a lot to him to be able to work with you guys all day.”
We realized he was in a bad