“That’s a good question. I have my suspicions.”
“You think someone in our own government is bugging you?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry, this room was swept this morning.” He sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You were already a senator when they created the DNI position, but you weren’t on the Select Committee. There was quite a pissing match.”
“The CIA and the Pentagon weren’t happy about it.”
“That’s correct. They resisted. Strongly.”
She knew that, if anything, Kellerman was understating the issue. There had almost been an open rebellion by the JSOC, who had kept routing their information to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, bypassing the DNI. The CIA had openly scoffed at the idea, and the CIA’s SOG had threatened to do everything within its power to ensure that their briefings went directly to the president.
“They finally came around,” Barbara said.
Kellerman took a sip of the coffee and spat it back into the cup. “You’d think with all the money we spend, we could at least rustle up a good pot of coffee.”
“If what you say is true, it’s got to be SOG. They can report directly to the president.”
“Things happen in the world,” Kellerman murmured. “There are things done in our name, but they are not done by us.”
“What does that mean?”
“During the Vietnam War, I worked with SOG. Well, I thought it was SOG.”
“You thought?”
He nodded. “We placed sensors along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. I worked with a man, probably one of the scariest men I’ve ever met. His name was Wise. He came and went, along with another man named Barnwell. It was an ARPA project.”
“The electronic fence. I’ve heard of it. It was a failure.”
“It was,” Kellerman said, “and it wasn’t. Most of us didn’t know anything about what was really going on. But I spoke to a few of the ARPA scientists. ARPA didn’t know who Wise or Barnwell worked for, but it wasn’t SOG.”
“They didn’t know? How can that be?”
“That’s the weird part. We were drinking and telling stories late one night…” He stared off into space, lost in his memories. “They created the Anti-Infiltration Barrier — that’s what they called it — but they said it was like they were mirroring work already completed. Like everything was for show.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’ve suspected it for some time that there is a shadow intelligence organization that we are completely unaware of. They operate around the world, and even on US soil.”
“That’s illegal,” Barbara said.
“Don’t be naïve. When has that ever stopped anybody?”
“You’re saying The President of the United States has a secret group of, I don’t know, commandos or something, operating around the world? That’s insane.”
“It’s not just this president.”
She considered her words carefully. “You honestly believe that every president, at least since Johnson, has commanded this secret group? Johnson was a little before my time, but from what I understand, when he wasn’t busy making a mess of the Vietnam War, he was screwing every secretary in sight. And if Nixon had these kind of resources, he never would’ve been caught. And what about Carter and Reagan?”
Kellerman raised his hand. “We can second-guess this, but there are a few facts that can’t be disputed. Someone keeps bugging this office, and not just this office. We found bugs inside the CIA.”
That sobered her up. “The Russians.” She noticed the look on Kellerman’s face. “It’s not the Russians?”
“The bugs were in the D/CIA’s office.”
“Someone planted a bug inside the director of the CIA’s office? Why wasn’t the Security Council informed?”
“Because it wasn’t the first bug found in the director’s office. His predecessor told him that he’d found bugs, too. And his predecessor told him the same thing.”
“You can’t be serious…”
“Someone has been bugging the D/CIA’s office for generations. The first bug was found in Allen Dulles’s office and he was furious, thinking, like you, that the Russians were behind it. He finally took it up with Eisenhower, who told him to leave the bug where it was and to ignore it. Dulles tracked it and found it was regularly replaced. More interesting is that as the technology progressed, it was always better than the CIA’s.”
“The NSA—”
“No,” Kellerman said. “Samford was the director of the NSA at the time, and when Dulles met with him, Samford informed him that his office was bugged, and that Eisenhower had told him to ignore it.”
“You think Dwight Eisenhower authorized a secret group to spy on the CIA and the NSA?”
“It goes back farther than that. Do you know who Sidney Souers was?”
She racked her brain. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“Rear Admiral Souers was the first director of Central Intelligence. He was appointed by Truman in exchange for helping create the Central Intelligence Group.”
“Wasn’t the CIG the predecessor to the CIA?”
“Yes. It’s an amazing story, really, because Souers didn’t want any part of it. It was after World War II, and he wanted to return to civilian life. But, somehow, he managed to create the structure of the intelligence agencies we know today.”
“What could this possibly have to do—?”
“Souers wrote a note to his successor, Hoyt Vandenberg. You might recognize his name…”
“Vandenberg Air Force Base,” she muttered.
“It’s in your district, I believe.”
She nodded. “I’ve been there.”
“Vandenberg left a handwritten note that has been passed down to each director. They keep it in a personal safe that only the director can access.”
“What’s in the note?”
“I only know a little,” Kellerman said, “but it talks about meeting a man who worked for the president. He called him the president’s man.”
“The president’s man?”
“No, the president’s man,” Kellerman said. “A man who would do what the president needed done.”
“Why have I never heard of this before?”
Kellerman sighed. “Vandenberg’s note said that Truman told him to never mention it. Except for Vandenberg’s note, no one ever disobeyed that order.”
Barbara chewed at her lip. “It’s absurd. You really think Truman created an entire organization to do what the president wanted done?”
“I think that’s exactly what he did,” Kellerman said. “I think that group still exists. I think they are the ones operating in Switzerland.”
“What are we going to do?” Barbara asked.
Kellerman sighed. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“We have to do something.”
“I’m two years away from retirement, Barbara.”
That surprised her. “You still have plenty of years left in you. You could run for Congress—”
“Not a chance,” Kellerman said. “I say the wrong things.”
“You can’t sit on this.”
Kellerman ran his hand through his hair. “These people are dangerous. You have no idea. I have an inkling of what they’re capable of, and it scares the hell out of me.”
The hair on the back of her neck bristled. “You’re joking. They can’t do anything to us. We’re…”
“We’re what, Barbara? What are we?”
“I’m a senator,” she spat out. “You’re the director of National Intelligence. They can’t touch us.”
“I have plans. I’ve lined up a job with the Fordham Group.”
“The think tank?”