“This job requires brains, courage and initiative, Robert. You have all three. Our country has become a target for every little tin-horn dictatorship that can breed a terrorist group or build a chemical weapons factory. Half a dozen of those countries are working on atomic bombs at this moment, so that they can hold us at ransom. My job is to build an intelligence network to find out exactly what they’re up to and to try to stop them. I want you to help me.”
In the end, Robert had accepted the job with Naval Intelligence, and to his surprise, he found that he enjoyed it and had a natural aptitude for it. Susan found an attractive apartment in Rosslyn, Virginia, not far from where Robert worked, and busied herself furnishing it. Robert was sent to the Farm, the CIA training ground for secret service agents.
Located in a heavily guarded compound in the Virginia countryside, the Farm occupies twenty square miles, most of it covered in tall pine forest, with the central buildings in a ten-acre cleared area two miles from the front gate. A network of dirt roads branches off through the woods, with locked swinging barricades, and “No Entry” signs posted. At a small airfield, unmarked aircraft arrive and depart several times a day. The Farm has a deceptively bucolic setting, with leafy trees, deer running in the fields, and small buildings innocently scattered around the extensive grounds. Inside the compound, however, it is a different world.
Robert had expected to train with other Navy personnel, but to his surprise, the trainees were a mixture of CIA inductees and marines, and Army, Navy and Air Force personnel. Each student was assigned a number and housed in a dormitory-like room in one of several spartan two-storey brick buildings. At the Bachelor Officer Quarters, where Robert stayed, each man had his own room, and shared the bathroom with another. The Mess Hall was across the road from the BOQ cluster.
On the day Robert arrived, he was escorted to an auditorium with thirty other newcomers. A tall, powerfully built black Colonel in Air Force uniform addressed the group. He appeared to be in his middle fifties, and he gave the impression of quick, cold intelligence. He spoke clearly and crisply, with no wasted words.
“I’m Colonel Frank Johnson. I want to welcome you here. During your stay, you will use only your first names. From this moment on, your lives will be a closed book. You’ve all been sworn to secrecy. I would advise you to take that oath very, very seriously. You are never to discuss your work with anyone – your wives, your family, your friends. You’ve been selected to come here because you have special qualifications. There’s a lot of hard work ahead of you to develop those qualifications, and not all of you are going to make it. You’re going to be involved in things you have never even heard of before. I cannot stress enough the importance of the work you will be doing when you finish here. It has become fashionable in certain liberal circles to attack our intelligence services, whether it’s the CIA, Army, Navy or the Air Force, but I can assure you, gentlemen, that without dedicated people like yourselves, this country would be in one hell of a lot of trouble. It’s going to be your job to help prevent that. Those of you who do pass will become Case Officers. To put it bluntly, a Case Officer is a spy. He works under cover.~”
“While you’re here, you’re going to get the best training in the world. You’ll be trained in surveillance and counter-surveillance. You’ll have courses in radio communications, encoding, and weaponry and map reading.~”
“You’ll attend a class in interpersonal relations. You’ll be taught how to build a rapport, how to draw out an individual’s motivations, how to make your target feel at ease.”
The class was hanging on every word.
“You’ll learn how to meet and recruit an agent. You’ll be trained in how to make sure meeting places are secure.~”
“You’ll learn about dead drops, how to covertly communicate with your contacts. If you’re successful at what you do, you will carry out your assignments unnoticed and undetected.”
Robert could feel the excitement that charged the air.
“Some of you will work under official cover. It could be diplomatic or military. Others will work under non-official cover as private individuals – as a businessman, or archaeologist, or novelist – any profession that will give you access to the areas and types of people likely to have the information you’re looking for. And now, I’m going to turn you over to your instructors. Good luck.”
Robert found the training fascinating. The instructors were men who had worked in the field and were experienced professionals. Robert absorbed the technical information easily. In addition to the courses Colonel Johnson had mentioned, there was a brush-up course on languages, and one on cryptic codes.
