He looked again over his shoulder for the Russian SVR rezident, but the man wasn’t there. His absence meant something. “Mr. McGarvey,”
Senator Hammond prompted. “I’ll reserve my opening remarks until later, Senator Hammond. But I’d like a written version to be entered into the record at this time.” “Very well,” Hammond said. A clerk came over, and Paterson handed him a copy of McGarvey’s opening statement, a puzzled but resigned expression on his face. Senator Madden sat forward, an almost radiant expression on her round face.
“Excuse me, Senator Hammond, I would like to ask Mr. McGarvey a question before we proceed.” Hammond motioned for her to go ahead.
“It has come to my attention that you might not even want this job,” she said. “Is that true?” “Frankly no, I never wanted the job,”
McGarvey replied before Paterson could stop him. “Well then-” “I have a great deal of respect for President Haynes. He asked me if I would take the job. I couldn’t say no. If I’m confirmed, it’s my intention to remake the Agency completely.” Madden smiled warmly. “Maybe you and I are in agreement after all. I’ve been campaigning for quite a while to revamp the CIA. It’s long overdue.” “I agree,” McGarvey said.
“But probably not along the same lines you’ve been talking about. I firmly believe that there remains a very strong need for the CIA. But for an agency that’s leaner, meaner, better funded and equipped, and without three-quarters of the bureaucracy that has hamstrung almost every operation before it ever got off the ground.” “There’s a great deal of inertia in an organization as vast as the CIA, wouldn’t you say?” “Too much.” “So it would take a very capable administrator to accomplish such a reorganization as you envision. Isn’t that correct?”
“I might say yes, Senator, if we were talking about almost any other organization than the CIA.” “I expect so,” Senator Madden responded smugly. “But isn’t it a fact you have admitted that you are no administrator?” “An officer in the field, whose life may very well be jeopardized by the kinds of policies being put in place at headquarters, respects professional competence over administrative expertise.”
“Spies managing spies?”
“Yes, Senator. Just like the old days, when spies like Dulles and Donovan grew the Agency from nothing.”
“But they were gentlemen.”
Paterson reached for the microphone, but McGarvey responded to Mad-den’s thinly veiled insult.
“Yes, they were, Senator. They came from the old school, when people believed in building institutions to help make this country strong, not tear them apart with no clear idea what should replace them.”
The Washington Post had quoted Madden on more than one occasion calling for the dismantling of the CIA. The Agency, in her estimation, had cost the United States far more money and far more embarrassment than it was ever worth even on its best day. “A den of thugs,” she had said.
She caught his insult, but if it bothered her, she didn’t let it show.
“You are going to tell us how you mean to bring the CIA back to the good old days?”
“If that’s what you want to call it, yes, I will.” McGarvey returned her smile. “I think it’s time that we stop apologizing to the rest of the world for who and what we are.” He looked at the other senators.
“I’m here this morning to answer your questions, but not to make excuses.”
“That’s all well and good,” Senator Hammond said. “But today has been reserved for opening statements. Are we to understand that you are passing on that opportunity?”
“That’s correct.”
“Why?”
“As I said, Senator, I’m here to answer your questions, not to make any kind of a political statement that would in any event be misunderstood.”
Hammond laughed, and glanced at the others on the committee. “Very well, we’ll leave it at that for today.”
On the drive back to Langley Paterson was in an odd, buoyant mood, as if he was happy the way things had gone. “They’re either going to hire me, or they’re not, Carleton. But I’m not going to screw around. I’ll tell it like it is.” “When haven’t you?” Paterson asked. “I’m surprised that the President hasn’t phoned already to tell you to cooperate.”
“We had the discussion two weeks ago. He told me to call them as I saw them.” McGarvey had to smile. “He did ask me to promise not to shoot any of them.”
Paterson laughed. “There’s at least that.”
It was around four when McGarvey got back to his office. His desk was stacked with memos, letters and files. In the couple of hours before he left for home he fended off a dozen phone calls congratulating him on his performance at the hearing. The calls were mostly from old friends, but not from the President. One of the files on his desk was the Nikolayev dossier. There wasn’t much to it, only one grainy black-and-white photograph showing him in a group at the Frunze Military Academy, and a few pages of dry facts. He had been an experimental psychologist in Baranov’s old Department Viktor, though there was almost nothing on what his duties were. He was an old man now; his wife dead, no children or any other relatives alive. It was a wonder the SVR was still interested in him. McGarvey couldn’t fathom why Otto was also interested. Adkins had the NIE and Watch Report in good shape for Thursday’s meeting of the U.S. Intelligence Board. By throwing himself into work Adkins was in much better shape than he had been this morning. He was going back to the hospital around six, and he asked McGarvey to thank Kathleen for stopping by. “It cheered her up having another woman to talk to.” “How’d she know that Ruth was in the hospital?” McGarvey asked. “I assumed that you told her.”
McGarvey shook his head. “I didn’t have a chance. But she knows more people in this town than I do. Somebody must have told her. Anyway, I’m glad she got up there.” Kathleen’s ability to find out things apparently without working at it, was another trait he found attractive. She was bright, intuitive and seemed to know when and where someone needed her. She would have made a great spy. Like the good ones she was able to see connections between seemingly unrelated bits and pieces. And it was just this sort of activity, helping other people, that would bring her out of the blue funk she’d gotten herself into. He got word from Security that their Bethesda detail would have to be extended through the night because Rencke had not yet been released. Louise Horn was still not back at the NRO, nor was there any answer at the apartment. She was staying at Otto’s bedside around the clock. She was like a lioness with her cub; no one would get near him without answering to her. It took several minutes for Dr. Daishong to answer his page at the hospital. He sounded cheerful but all out of breath as if he had just run up a flight of stairs. He’d been on duty a straight twenty-four hours, and he was finally on his way home, he explained.
“I’m keeping him until tomorrow afternoon.” “Why? What’s wrong with him?” McGarvey asked. “His injuries from the accident are superficial. Not serious. But the poor man is tired, anemic and quite possibly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Good heavens, I’m told that he possibly eats nothing but junk food.” “He’s been under a lot of pressure.” “He’s sleeping now, and we’re filling him with vitamins to build up his system. I suggest that you go easy on him.” “Yes, thank you, I’ll try.” “I have told your security people that he is to have no further visitors.” “Who has come to see him?” “In addition to his friend who will stay the night, only Mrs. McGarvey.” “Take care of him, Doctor. We need him back here.” “Better that you take care of him so that he doesn’t come back to me.” On the way home, traffic snarled because of the heavy snow, McGarvey had time to put everything that had been happening into some sort of perspective. Troubles came in threes. There were weird weeks in which everything seemed to go wrong at once. The trick was to take it a step at a time. All things would pass, even the bad times. “Has Liz called yet?” he asked Kathleen. “They’re back down at the Farm for the next couple of days.