The President’s Dossier

by James A. Scott

  Jill got up and left without a backward look. She had taken my advice and separated her fate from mine. It was the end of an interesting run for us.

  Rodney gave me his full attention. “Max, you deserve a promotion and much more. However, because of the shooting on my boat and your attempt to frame me—”

  “Rodney, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I heard the FBI liked you for the shooting.”

  With a hint of admiration, he said, “Following the Agency playbook, are we? Staying with your cover story?”

  “I don’t have a cover story and don’t need one.”

  Rodney was smug. “The Agency leadership believes my version of the shooting. Also, I have an alibi for the time those men were killed.”

  “Your alibi is someone from the Agency, no doubt.”

  “How ever did you know?”

  “I used to be an intelligence officer, until I ran across a bad boss.”

  He didn’t respond to that. “Those men on my boat were ours, not Russian illegals. We identified them as Russians so the FBI could take the case. We couldn’t have them traced back to the Agency by the D.C. police. They were not going to hurt you. Their orders were to scare you into giving up the kompromat. They weren’t even supposed to be armed.”

  “Well, they really screwed up, didn’t they? I wonder who did them in?”

  Rodney moved on with a cheery attitude. “By the way, Zabluda reported to Moscow that you killed Bowen and two Russian money guards. What happened to their bodies?”

  “I don’t know anything about that, but if you tell me the time and place they were killed, I have a witness who can give me an alibi. He’s not even an Agency employee.”

  Rodney was enjoying the fencing match, but he had to conclude his business with me. “Anyway, because of the shootings and other circumstances, it is felt that you might hold negative attitudes toward the Agency that could affect your work. So, I can’t offer you your job back … or any job.”

  “It’s late, Rodney. What’s the bottom line?”

  “You asked for a defector package. I understand you have five million dollars somewhere in the world. So, a pension is out of the question. However, the Agency recognizes your recent sacrifices, and the fact that you’re a target because Zabluda told Moscow you killed Bowen and made off with their money and the Walldrum kompromat. Therefore, the leadership has authorized me to offer you resettlement, a new identity, and the purchase of a new home. Of course, we will also assist in tidying up your local affairs. What do you think?”

  I thought, Nice bribe. I said, “In return, you want me to either die in this room or stop those kompromat packages from being delivered to the media. And I must abide by the same restrictions you placed on Jill?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Tell the leadership I’ll stop the packages, and their secrets are safe with me. Convey my thanks for their generous offer, but no, thanks. I trusted the Agency to be straight with me and it destroyed the two most important things in my life. They don’t get a second chance to screw me. I’m going off the grid until the next election—maybe forever—and I’m going to enjoy my five million dollars.”

  Rodney studied me for a long time before he removed his gun from the desktop and put it in a drawer. Then, he came to me and unlocked the handcuffs.

  Relationships damaged by a breach of trust are never the same. Relationships battered by a misunderstanding can sometimes be restored. The day after my “talk” with Rodney, I booked a first-class ticket to Australia. For me, there was only one Vanessa in that country. I wondered how many Zabludas there were. Before leaving for Australia, I needed to get myself off the Moscow target list.

  * * *

  When I was a young boy, frustrated by some task I was trying unsuccessfully to perform, my grandmother would tell me, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” There was a cat out there named Zabluda, wearing my five-million-dollar fur. The best cat-skinners I knew were lawyers. I visited Lyle Palmer at Stratton, Radcliff, and Bowles.

  Once again, I sat with Lyle at his teak conference table. Lyle owed me a favor for warning him about Claudia Navarro. So, he agreed to provide whatever services I needed. I told him as much about my work for Bowen as he needed to know, which wasn’t a whole lot. I left out anything that would break my deal with Rodney and the Agency, and hit Lyle with the punchline. “I have a ten-million-dollar contract with Bill Bowen’s Global Democratic Initiative to investigate the allegations against Walldrum in the Ironside Dossier.” I gave Lyle a certified true copy of the contract. “Bowen paid me half before delivery. When I delivered the goods, Bowen was incapacitated and failed to make the second payment.” I’m pretty sure being shot in the head and dead qualifies as incapacitated. “I want you to sue Bowen’s firm for my five million.”

  Lyle frowned. “Wait a minute. You gave me the evidence you collected. I took it to the special prosecutor and the FBI. Why are you saying you delivered it to Bowen?”

  “Because I did. After I delivered it, Bowen’s associate, Konstantin Zabluda, gave it back to me. I’m not responsible for what happened after delivery. They still have an obligation to honor my contract and pay me.”

  Lyle warned me, “If you take this to court and GDI puts up a defense, you may have to reveal the compromising evidence on Waldrum.”

  “GDI is a Russian front, Lyle. The last thing they want is a public court battle. I’m betting they’ll settle to keep this quiet and make it go away. What do you think?”

  Lyle smiled. He was probably calculating his cut of my five million. Suddenly, he understood the rest of the story. “And the FBI and CIA can’t get involved because they would have to admit knowledge that Walldrum has been compromised. That’s brilliant.”

  He stopped salivating and got serious. “To make this work, you need proof that you actually delivered the material to Bowen and this Zabluda.”

  “Got a computer handy?”

  Lyle had one delivered to the room. I inserted the thumb drive containing a digital record of Tony-D and me handing over the briefcase of kompromat to Bowen at the villa in Switzerland. The recording showed events from the time Tony-D and I arrived with Bowen and the money until Zabluda shot Bowen and the two guards. There was an obvious gap and the recording skipped to Zabluda leaving the room carrying a suitcase full of my money. Let Zabluda explain that in Moscow.

  “What’s on the missing segment, Max?”

  “That’s classified.” Honoring part of my pledge to Rodney, I had deleted the segment that recorded Zabluda giving me the kompromat and our little talk about him defecting with five million dollars.

  I think Lyle was shocked. He pushed back from the table and was quiet for a time, before asking, “How is it that you have this recording?”

  “When I discovered Bowen was working for the Russians, I knew that the best way for him to wrap up his operation was to destroy the kompromat when I delivered it and kill me. If things went badly for me, I wanted to leave a record.”

  Lyle appeared thoughtful before asking, “By the way, who is Zabluda?”

  “He’s a Russian assassin.”

  “Fast company you keep. I don’t think GDI will want to see this recording played in court.” Lyle gave me a mischievous smile. “Where do I send the money?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Many people contributed to this book. All have my thanks. Some are recognized here.

  Nelson DeMille and James Grady are thriller writers whose work inspired me. Kelly Gross (Lady Courage) is my friend and Russian and German tutor. Mr. T., a professional intelligence officer, made sure I didn’t lose my way in the “wilderness of mirrors” that is the spy business. Lloyd, my lifelong friend, reminded me that “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.” He looked Death in the face and said, “Not yet.” On her deathbed, Ophelia made me promise to keep writing. Ophie, thank you. I miss you, but I’m in good hands.

  Barbara is my politics junkie, c
heerleader, book advisor, and all-around special person. She tolerated and encouraged my frequent descent into the dark world of spy fiction where I could not escape the dark world of our current reality.

  Rebecca Shivvers, Bill Walker, Jenny Thouw, Jay and Hannah Harris, Betsy, Jerry, and Fred caught many of my mistakes, provided encouragement, and made suggestions. I ignored some of their advice in pursuit of artistic expression. Hence, errors of commission and omission in this work are my responsibility.

  Finally, I am most indebted to Pat and Bob who saw something and said the magic words. Thank you.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When the idea for The President’s Dossier presented itself, I had no intention of writing a novel based on current events. One morning, I read a news article announcing that a magazine publisher had offered ten million dollars to anyone who could prove true certain unsavory allegations about our current president. The reward triggered story possibilities in my author’s mind. What if someone accepted the publisher’s offer? What would motivate such a protagonist? Where would the protagonist look for proof of the allegations? What if they were verified? A story began to form in my mind, but where were the twists? Readers—and writers—love surprises. What if the publisher had a nefarious motive? What if the allegations hadn’t originated where the media said they had? As I answered these questions, The President’s Dossier became a story I had to tell.

  When I write, my goal is to give readers alternative and entertaining explanations for their beliefs. Since this book is rooted in current events about which readers may have opinions, I relied on recent news articles, testimony, and non-fiction books to provide authentic alternatives and background for the story. I also drew on my experiences as a soldier, my years of living and travel in Europe, and my engagement with—and research on—intelligence agencies.

  In part, this story relies on the Russian tactic of ensnaring foreigners by recording them in compromising situations. An acquaintance once told me a story of her visit to Moscow. She was in her hotel lobby waiting for a tour guide. She returned to her suite to retrieve an article she’d forgotten. On the way, she passed a room adjacent to her bedroom. A man was there changing film in the camera used to record her bedroom activities. Should she become a person of importance, Russian intelligence had compromising or embarrassing photographs with which to manipulate her. It is doubtful that the Russians have abandoned this tactic.

  For readers interested in Cold War Russian intelligence organizations and tactics, I recommend Sword and Shield: Soviet Intelligence and Security Apparatus by Jeffrey T. Richelson. The book describes activities that my character, Colonel Bogdanovich, narrates to protagonist, Max Geller. Bogdanovich would have worked in the KGB’s Second Chief Directorate, an entity responsible for obtaining compromising material on visitors to Russia. In the 1990s, the KGB was replaced by the FSB, for domestic intelligence, and the SVU, for foreign intelligence.

  I hope that you enjoyed The President’s Dossier.