1/18/2024 0 Comments Spy novels![]() They made themselves comfortable with Deakin playing the host and pouring the drinks coffee, black and strong. They trail around together like a bunch of virgins at a frat party.” Deakin was the archetypical CIA case officer thought Marquez, young, sleek and a smooth operator. “You clean? No surveillance on you, they're pretty easy to spot. The knock on the door and code phrase gained him entrance to the inner sanctum of the safe-house. The venue was a one-bedroom apartment in Binza, a suburb of Leopoldville and one of the many safe-houses the Agency kept for covert meetings. His first port of call was to be his briefing with the CIA station chief, Deakin. He left his suitcase in the room and immediately ordered a taxi from the hotel reception. ![]() It was the hotel of choice for businessmen, journalists and visiting VIP's. Marquez had booked himself into the Intercontinental Hotel, a large, high-rise slab of concrete in the center of the city. The drive through the streets did nothing to dispel any of these sensations and also confirmed what he had already been told by the CIA the Congo was sliding slowly into a whirlwind of chaos and feudal fighting with the military on the streets and militias in the back rooms. The smell, the noise, the heat all gave Africa its own unique pulse. The ride from the airport into Leopoldville had brought back old memories of his time in Africa, not here in the Congo, where he was unknown, but in other regions of the Dark Continent Chad, Nigeria, Algeria, Dakar. The Congo operation was his first mission and although he was listed as an Executive Action department agent, he would in truth be seconded to the CIA's Africa Division for the duration of the project. Marquez had been put on the payroll, a nice monthly retainer and all he had to do was establish enough cover to be classed as deniable to the overt world. ![]() ![]() I think you're the type of guy that we'd like to have working with us.” We deal with Executive Action, which is a bullshit euphemism for getting our hands dirty in covert operations. I'd also like to thank you for some of the potential agents you’ve talent spotted for us. “I liked what you did for us against those Chinese commies, nice work. “Call me Bill,” the CIA man had said as they dined on seafood at the Restaurant Villa Venezia, a small, family run place a stone's throw from the Vatican. The man looked like a disheveled drunk, but he had a confidence and swagger about him that hinted at hidden resources and tenacity. Of course it had all been a ruse and on a given date, the shipments had been intercepted by the US Coast Guard, but more importantly several of the main arterial routes into the USA had been compromised, with several others being placed under surveillance.įollowing the counter-narcotics operation, he had been approached six months later and met with an overweight, almost obese CIA man in Rome. He had bought his way into the deal using American funds and had arranged for collection points and private transport en route. As an Agent Provocateur, Marquez had been exceptional. Because of his underworld contacts across Europe, especially with the Corsican and Sicilian drug gangs, he had been an excellent agent to infiltrate himself into a network involving Chinese Communist heroin that was being given freely with the clear understanding that it must be flooded into the United States. “I'm the guy fighting the Commies Tony here is fighting the drug war. I'm Frank and this is Tony,” said the larger and meatier-faced of the two. Two large Americans had visited him at his apartment one evening with an interesting proposition. He had first been recruited in the late 1950's, following a successful career as a smuggler. His real mission was much more interesting. In truth, he had no intention whatsoever of doing any of this. His travel papers were valid for the next three months and in that time, he was expected to travel across the region, visiting businessmen, government ministers and local political leaders. His cover was that of a French businessman from Marseilles, who was looking to import agricultural machinery from Europe in order to assist the Congolese economy. The CIA agent QJ/WIN had arrived in Leopoldville operating under the name of Lucien LeClerc. Leopoldville, Republic of the Congo – November 1960 A Game For Assassins (The Redaction Chronicles Book 1) by James Quinn Book excerpt
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