“Phase three is development. You build up a relationship with a prospect. You manage to run into him as often as possible and build a rapport. The next phase is recruitment. When you think he is ready, you go to work on him psychologically. You use whatever psychological weapons you’ve got—revenge against his boss, money, the thrill of it. If a case officer has done his job well, the prospect usually says yes.
“So far so good. You have a spy working for you. The next step is handling him. You must protect not only yourself, but him too. You will arrange surreptitious meetings and train him in the use of microfilm and, where appropriate, clandestine radio. You will teach him how to detect surveillance, what to say if questioned, and so on.
“The last phase is disconnecting. After some period of time, perhaps your recruit will be transferred to a different job and no longer have access to the information, or maybe we will no longer need the information to which he does have access. In any case, the relationship is ended, but it’s important to end it in such a way that the recruit doesn’t feel he has been used and is looking for vengeance…”
Colonel Johnson had been right. Not every one made it through the course. Familiar faces kept disappearing. Washed out. No one knew why. No one asked.
One day, as a group was preparing to go into Richmond for a surveillance exercise, Robert’s instructor said, “We’re going to see how good you are, Robert. I’m going to send someone to tail you. I want you to lose him. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good luck.”
Robert took the bus into Richmond and began strolling the streets. Within five minutes, he identified his trackers. There were two of them. One was on foot and one was in an automobile. Robert tried ducking into restaurants and shops and hurrying out back doors, but he was unable to shake them. They were too well trained. Finally, it was almost time to return to the Farm, and Robert still had not been able to get away from them. They were watching him too closely. Robert walked into a department store, and the two men took up positions where they could cover the entrances and exits. Robert took the escalator up to the Men’s Clothing Department. Thirty minutes later when he came down, he was wearing a different suit, a coat and hat, and was talking to a woman and carrying a baby in his arms. He walked past his pursuers without being recognized.
He was the only one that day who had successfully eluded surveillance.
The jargon taught at the Farm was a language unto itself.
“You probably won’t use all these terms,” the instructor told the class, “but you had better know them. There are two different kinds of agents: an ‘agent of influence’ and an ‘agent provocateur.’ The agent of influence tries to change opinion in the country where he operates. An agent provocateur is sent to stir up trouble and create chaos. ‘Biographic leverage’ is CIA code for blackmail. There are also ‘black-bag jobs,’ which can range from bribes to burglary. Watergate was a black-bag job.”
He looked around to make sure that the class was paying attention. They were spellbound.
“From time to time some of you may need a ‘cobbler’—that’s a man who forges passports.”
Robert wondered whether he would ever use a cobbler.
“The phrase to demote maximally is a nasty one. It means to purge by killing. So does the word terminate. If you hear someone talking about the Firm, it’s the nickname we use to refer to the British Secret Service. If you’re asked to ‘fumigate’ an office, you won’t be looking for termites, you’ll be looking for listening devices.”
The arcane expressions fascinated Robert.
“ ‘Ladies’ is a euphemism for females sent to compromise the opposition. A ‘legend’ is a biography of a spy that is faked to provide him with a cover. ‘Going private’ means leaving the service.”
The instructor scanned the class. “Any of you know what a ‘lion tamer’ is?”
He waited for an answer. Silence.