acquired. “Because of his involvement with Dr. Bull’s artillery developments?”
“That, yes, but not just that on its own.”
“So he was not one of the Americans you ideologically exonerated in your reports.”
“No. Unfortunately, his hatred of the United States was, how can I put it, too unusual for that. He would say things like if the Russians and Cubans ever managed to nuke New York and Washington, he would throw a party and pop the champagne corks.”
“And you believed him?” I asked.
Symansky shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. I began to think I had met my first real sociopath.”
“And you thought he might act out his feelings? Be involved in something criminal?”
“No. Not quite. I didn’t come to that conclusion. He was far too self-preoccupied with what he thought was his genius to put his own life at risk. That was my cautious conclusion. But when he began to do some work for Dr. Bull, he had to be taken seriously.”
“And watched.”
“Yes and watched.”
“But not murdered.”
I saw that touch of frustration and impatience again in Symansky’s eyes. “No. Nothing I saw or heard, or filed, could possibly have encouraged that.”
“Besides,” I said, “Bull at the time was still of interest to the United States military.”
Symansky nodded.
“And Monaghan was still useful as someone to watch so long as he was working for Bull, although it put Monaghan in the odd position of possibly helping a country he hated.”
Symansky nodded again. “But it was all a little more complicated than that. What was involved was a very significant growth in artillery technology, potentially a very dangerous one, depending on who might later decide to purchase it. Who would control what Bull developed was what was at stake. Or even the limited knowledge Monaghan might acquire.”
“In other words, Bull might still be potentially of interest to the U.S. military, but he was not willing to cede ultimate control of what he was working on to anyone.”
Symansky seemed satisfied by my grasp of what was involved.
“He was,” he said thoughtfully, “in every sense of the word, a rogue engineer. Bull, I mean. And Monaghan for that matter too, in his own way! Bull’s allegiance was not to any particular country or ideology, but only to his own place in the history of artillery development. As you know, he even eventually entered negotiations with Saddam Hussein of Iraq.”
“At a time when Iraq was an American ally.” I could not help adding.
“True. But as a rogue.”
“And even earlier with Communist China.” I added to bring matters back to an area closer to Symansky’s ideological heart.
“So I believe. But I had moved here by then.”
“And were no longer interested in what was happening at Bull’s artillery range just fifty miles from here across the Canadian border? I find that hard to believe.”
That seemed to give him pause. I could feel his wife shifting in her chair with irritation.
He frowned. “You may find it hard to believe. But I had broken all my contacts with our national security agencies. I was no longer involved.”
“May I ask why?”
“Certainly.” His eyes engaged mine. He smiled. I could feel him trying to turn on the charm. “My involvement was always part-time and temporary. I no longer felt the cold war posed a danger to the United States. I still cared about the eventual liberation of Poland, but my primary interest has always been academic. I had other pressing intellectual interests I wanted to pursue.”
He looked over at his wife, tried to give her a smile of reassurance and added, “as Stella knows, for many years now I’ve been trying to make progress on a book.”
I thought of obsessive patriotic Americans like Ollie North, and the growing evidence of illegal covert activities by the CIA and the FBI both inside and outside the United States. But I felt sure that Symansky was no Ollie North. In fact, I was beginning to see him in
“That, yes, but not just that on its own.”
“So he was not one of the Americans you ideologically exonerated in your reports.”
“No. Unfortunately, his hatred of the United States was, how can I put it, too unusual for that. He would say things like if the Russians and Cubans ever managed to nuke New York and Washington, he would throw a party and pop the champagne corks.”
“And you believed him?” I asked.
Symansky shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. I began to think I had met my first real sociopath.”
“And you thought he might act out his feelings? Be involved in something criminal?”
“No. Not quite. I didn’t come to that conclusion. He was far too self-preoccupied with what he thought was his genius to put his own life at risk. That was my cautious conclusion. But when he began to do some work for Dr. Bull, he had to be taken seriously.”
“And watched.”
“Yes and watched.”
“But not murdered.”
I saw that touch of frustration and impatience again in Symansky’s eyes. “No. Nothing I saw or heard, or filed, could possibly have encouraged that.”
“Besides,” I said, “Bull at the time was still of interest to the United States military.”
Symansky nodded.
“And Monaghan was still useful as someone to watch so long as he was working for Bull, although it put Monaghan in the odd position of possibly helping a country he hated.”
Symansky nodded again. “But it was all a little more complicated than that. What was involved was a very significant growth in artillery technology, potentially a very dangerous one, depending on who might later decide to purchase it. Who would control what Bull developed was what was at stake. Or even the limited knowledge Monaghan might acquire.”
“In other words, Bull might still be potentially of interest to the U.S. military, but he was not willing to cede ultimate control of what he was working on to anyone.”
Symansky seemed satisfied by my grasp of what was involved.
“He was,” he said thoughtfully, “in every sense of the word, a rogue engineer. Bull, I mean. And Monaghan for that matter too, in his own way! Bull’s allegiance was not to any particular country or ideology, but only to his own place in the history of artillery development. As you know, he even eventually entered negotiations with Saddam Hussein of Iraq.”
“At a time when Iraq was an American ally.” I could not help adding.
“True. But as a rogue.”
“And even earlier with Communist China.” I added to bring matters back to an area closer to Symansky’s ideological heart.
“So I believe. But I had moved here by then.”
“And were no longer interested in what was happening at Bull’s artillery range just fifty miles from here across the Canadian border? I find that hard to believe.”
That seemed to give him pause. I could feel his wife shifting in her chair with irritation.
He frowned. “You may find it hard to believe. But I had broken all my contacts with our national security agencies. I was no longer involved.”
“May I ask why?”
“Certainly.” His eyes engaged mine. He smiled. I could feel him trying to turn on the charm. “My involvement was always part-time and temporary. I no longer felt the cold war posed a danger to the United States. I still cared about the eventual liberation of Poland, but my primary interest has always been academic. I had other pressing intellectual interests I wanted to pursue.”
He looked over at his wife, tried to give her a smile of reassurance and added, “as Stella knows, for many years now I’ve been trying to make progress on a book.”
I thought of obsessive patriotic Americans like Ollie North, and the growing evidence of illegal covert activities by the CIA and the FBI both inside and outside the United States. But I felt sure that Symansky was no Ollie North. In fact, I was beginning to see him in
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