The reward for his effort included multiple offices. This one in the Pentagon, one in Langley and one in Nevada. His offices conferred his status. None of them were in a corner. None of them had windows.
According to the memorandum, he would have to swing by Personnel to have his hand measured before he next went to Nevada.
His door light flicked on. He placed the memo into his otherwise empty top drawer, stood and crossed to look through the peep hole. Cranforth’s reverse fish-eyed face stared straight at him. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then stepped back. Cranforth pushed the door ajar but instead of entering, he said, “Sir, please come with me. There’s something you have to see.”
Cranforth led him to a sub-section lounge one floor below. At its entrance, the access supervisor’s desk was empty, which was a disciplinary offence for the person holding that station. The lounge was full of people, all of whose backs were turned away from him as they faced towards the far end of the lounge. As he and Cranforth approached, the murmur of a TV floated through the small crowd.
“…let's get reorganized here. Alright ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you the chief cameraman and assistant news director of WFA television.”
He tiptoed a moment to locate the TV, then moved to establish a line of sight through the bodies to the screen.
“This is Bert Ship. Bert, we have brought the people pretty much up to date. Would you tell them exactly what you know as of this point?”
“Well, Jay, I was standing at the Trademart waiting his arrival there. All of a sudden they, we saw them approaching. They didn't slow down, as matter of fact they were going 70, 80 miles an hour past us. I, everybody was, unknowingly, didn't know what happened there at the Trademart and then I jumped in a police car and went to Parkland. When I got there I found that, err, that nobody knew too much about where he was hit but they knew that the President was shot in the head - this is what I've been told now, Jay - President was shot in the head, Connally was shot in the chest. Both of them are still alive when I left the hospital.”
“Do you have some film?”
“Yeah, I have film at the hospital…”
Immediate actions. Priorities. Protocols. Despite his stillness, his mind was bursting. His hand slid to his pocket and clutched his keys. Information, verification, analysis. His single step backwards was Cranforth’s cue to follow. He led the way back to office 3-88.
The work had been stopped. All contract personnel were being removed from all sites and max security guard protocols were now in force.
Cranforth had confirmed the gravity of the TV’s report internally. This was an attack on the United States, equivalent to a nuclear launch. The origins, direction and nature of the attack were unknown. Efforts to verify all of that were underway across the country and would inform his next formal steps. Logical, justified progress through protocols was what was formally expected and that discipline was essential. Panic and fear were to be avoided when defending from an attack.
The intensity of the day’s events had taken their toll. On his way out, he drifted sidewards in the exiting flow of unknown colleagues to a row of vacant, leather clad seats at the edge of the entrance hall. He let out a deep sigh as he sank into the seat and dragged his case on to his knees. Seated, he glanced up at the faces flowing out. Grief, shock and confusion were mixed with stoicism and granite. Shuffling and clicks of footsteps were the only sounds. He emanated a detectable dejection. His right hand gripped his keys, covered from easy view by his case. He dug the tip of his car key into the seat’s leather until he felt it just puncture. He closed his hand around his keys and took hold of the briefcase handle, checked his watch, mouthed a small prayer for strength then rose and ebbed back into the flow.
“It’s the beginning of a new era, James, but I doubt we’re ready for the future. That puts us at a disadvantage. We’ve been surprised. We’re reacting. We don’t know who the enemy is yet.” It was a relief to see James, who was the closest thing to a true friend in this world.
“Do you still follow the framework?” James asked.
“AEPA is still in place. There are more Artefacts now, most of them likely red herrings. One more defunct Entity. No finalised Practises and no direct Applications. You?”
“Ours are in high demand, at home and abroad. The applications are growing quickly despite my efforts to restrict them. This was guaranteed as soon as there was Joint Services involvement. I have extensive overview because results still come to us and we are sole Discovery, but Practise and Application have become distributed and I don’t have control, only awareness.”
“The normal pattern. What do you think the difference is between an internal and external threat?”
“Depends on the objective, which we can’t know yet, so consider this conjecture. If it’s external, it needs to penetrate defences. Even if they’ve managed to get something or someone inside, that’s still subject to compartmentalisation. If it’s internal, we have no idea of the scale of capability or where they are on their timeline. Compartmentalisation could be compromised. Objectives, methods, scale could be unexpected. Verification will take time.”
“Agreed. To my mind, timescales are totally unknown. I’ve engaged the required defensive protocols. Further action can only be informed by verification. If the enemy is within, verification could be subverted. Missteps could result. On that basis, I think an internal attack is the greatest threat.”
“For now, I agree. Where can we look for signs?”
“Power, access, resources are key components to a day like today. Watch the political management of the aftermath. Who takes what role and how does that develop? Have you looked into whether they used any of your practises or applications?”
“It’s too diverse now for me to identify. If there was a project running elsewhere, we would need liaisons. We should both look into that. I have an opportunity with JS but can you think about finance?”
“Agreed. Yes. Looks like we’ll be seeing a bit more of each other from now on. We’ll both need to bring more signalling sites the next time we meet. My best to the family.”
“God speed, Thomas.”
Joint Services briefings were where James did the least amount of talking possible. He exerted control through silence, not persuasion. Not everyone had ideas. Others had to work at developing any ideas of their own. The danger was stemmed by not giving any of his ideas away to anyone. Despite maintaining that discipline, this Pandora’s Box had still been prised open.
James delivered Ultra dossiers to the attendees as expected then sat back to absorb the discussion. He was there to take stock of developing practises and applications that the others were willing or obliged to admit to. Truth was not on the table. It had to be discerned, inferred, discovered. The truths that were unspoken could not be known. His knowledge combined with the silence of others gave rise to his possible suspicions that would then be verified as best he could. The most he could hope for was a glimpse of possible truths. That was the nature of the work and the result of compartmentalisation.
At the far end of the table, Salinger scanned the first page of his dossier.
MK ULTRA
Joint Services Overview
18 December 1963
Practise Development
Application Development
Discovery Update
The meeting would end quickly after item 2. James’ Discovery Update would contain little or nothing new, as was most often the case. After the meeting they would go their separate ways in pursuit of separate lunch appointments and James was not one for getting between a man and his food. Quite the contrary. Since before their time together in Okinawa, James had always understood that food was the fuel for all of a man’s capabilities.
He flicked over to the second page to begin scanning ahead before discussion of the first item commenced. The bottom right corner of the second page bore a small crease, from having been folded over then back.
Salinger padlocked the sliding bolt on the inside of the door then climbed the stairs to join them at the intermediate landing of the stairwell. The rising stairs led to his exit on the roof.
“Gentlemen, good to see you. Congratulations on our joint venture.” They had all crossed the line now. The only way back was if one or more was serving another master. Trust in each others integrity and belief that they were serving themselves was the only thing that they could cling to.
“Dulles is on the Commission,” said James. “Prediction one is that this all gets tied off in public.”
“Senator Russell has been coerced on to it. Johnson threatened him with the Bureau and in the same breath admitted a set up to distract from and contain fall out. Managed theatre. 100% confirmed, I’ve heard it myself.” Sal’s voice was at a whisper.
The still silence that followed would have been uncomfortable to anyone else. To them, it was necessary and measured processing time.
“Does that, or anything else we know, help to confirm whether the enemy is internal or external?” said Thomas. Two headshakes. “My area will be the last to be touched. We have very little Practise or Application, and the minimum JS involvement. Yours is quite the opposite. What’s the state of play?”
“Discipline in Langley is decreasing,” said Sal. “Army applications are broad, on both sides. Results are mixed, as to be expected. Oversight and accountability is medium low. There’s a growing thirst to capitalise on the weapons applications. There’s some belief that this can help swing the war. We know that’s deluded and we know that delusion is inevitable. This will run for a long time as it morphs.”
“I’ve held back Discovery reporting because of this.” said James. “There’s convergence of three compounds, but not in the direction they want. They don’t necessarily enable access to truth held within. There’s a consistent suggestion that there’s a perception boundary that can be broken down or crossed.”
“What are our options?” asked Thomas.
“Stop and revert to business as usual, which means we take what comes from the enemy. Monitor, as now. I can’t see a way to act, or a means to justify any action.”
“We could focus on Monitoring as a way to act,” offered Sal. “Our work came from yours. If we enhance our breakdown of compartmentalisation, we could develop an information advantage, or at least be one step ahead on aspects of either control or action.”
Thomas’ eyebrows raised and he looked away, rapidly comprehending the implications of Sal’s suggestion.
“Risk assessment and work analysis of what that requires,” was his command. “Next time, we’ll brief on that and move forwards.” Two nods. Sal handed the padlock key to Thomas, then climbed the stairs to the hotel roof without looking back. The pair descended together. Thomas listened intently at the door. He unlocked the padlock, pocketed it, rolled the door handle three times slower than anyone else would have done, then opened the door almost as slowly against his toe, making just a crack to the hallway. They waited, listening again. He drew his toe further back then the door with it, peering through the widened crack. He nodded his farewell then slipped out and drew the door closed, heading back to the drinks reception. James would follow in similar manner and depart.