the protection.
He routinely conducted backroom deals on everything from sugar subsidies to EPA legislation, burying his principles in a cesspool of human frailty in order to keep the leviathan of the US government working, but there was one thing he would never compromise. One thing he knew would keep him awake long after he’d left the presidency if he did: the deaths of US citizens that he could have prevented. He knew that protecting the life and limb of American citizens was his clearest, most fundamental task, and he’d do whatever it took to guarantee it, regardless of the less-than-legal nature of the work. Something the DNI would definitely take issue with.
While a good man, Bruce wasn’t exactly the bend-the-rules superspy of movies and novels. Far from being James Bond, he had been selected for two very mundane skills: one, he had proven very good at collating and integrating disparate organizations with different agendas, something the DNI needed in spades, and two, he was a fervent by-the-book bureaucrat.
While the job of DNI sounded sexy, in reality, it was so far removed from actual intelligence work that the position had turned off potential applicants who lived for the field. Men who would—and did—bend the rules where necessary. Men who could—and had—caused embarrassment because of a myopic vision of what was necessary for the United States.
President Warren didn’t want anyone like that at the helm of the US intelligence community. He had enough of a vulnerability with the Taskforce’s very existence. What was needed to rein in such men was a manager like Bruce. A man who took the rules seriously, and would drop the hammer to maintain compliance. If it wasn’t codified into law, then it wouldn’t be executed by any agency under his control.
Bruce had grown up in the Central Intelligence Agency at a very difficult time, thrown into the maelstrom of the Middle East during the seventies and eighties. He’d been tangentially involved with Iran-Contra, an effort to free US hostages in Lebanon through less than legal means, and had thought the entire effort was an abortion. A huge, dancing polar bear of a circus designed to avoid US law.
The mess had spawned a plethora of second-guessing on other intelligence operations where none was required, but he understood why. If you did secret things, you needed to ensure you walked the line. The minute you didn’t, people assumed you had strayed long before with much broader implications than the ones they were looking at. Like what was occurring now with the Snowden revelations.
President Warren knew that Bruce had his hands full dealing with the constant barrage of leaks, trying to stem the sea of distrust springing forth from Internet conspiracies. He didn’t envy the man, but that’s why he had been hired. He wondered what had caused Bruce to remain behind, knowing it wouldn’t be good.
He said, “Can I help you, Bruce? Was there something else you wanted to say?”
The DNI shuffled forward, his thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses making him seem much older than he was. Making him look like a librarian instead of a spymaster. President Warren knew those looks were deceiving.
“Yes, sir. You remember the Boris file we were discussing? About Russian intentions with Syria and Iran?”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“There’s more than just Russian intentions in those documents. There are Russian reports of American activities, and some of those activities are volatile.”
President Warren waited a beat, then said, “And?”
“And they could have a significant impact on the current trust in government if they were exposed right now.”
Warren leaned back into his chair and studied his DNI. It was the first time the man had ever suggested hiding something for reasons other than to prevent the loss of sources or methods. The first time he’d ever broached the subject of burying something simply to protect reputations and the facade of
He routinely conducted backroom deals on everything from sugar subsidies to EPA legislation, burying his principles in a cesspool of human frailty in order to keep the leviathan of the US government working, but there was one thing he would never compromise. One thing he knew would keep him awake long after he’d left the presidency if he did: the deaths of US citizens that he could have prevented. He knew that protecting the life and limb of American citizens was his clearest, most fundamental task, and he’d do whatever it took to guarantee it, regardless of the less-than-legal nature of the work. Something the DNI would definitely take issue with.
While a good man, Bruce wasn’t exactly the bend-the-rules superspy of movies and novels. Far from being James Bond, he had been selected for two very mundane skills: one, he had proven very good at collating and integrating disparate organizations with different agendas, something the DNI needed in spades, and two, he was a fervent by-the-book bureaucrat.
While the job of DNI sounded sexy, in reality, it was so far removed from actual intelligence work that the position had turned off potential applicants who lived for the field. Men who would—and did—bend the rules where necessary. Men who could—and had—caused embarrassment because of a myopic vision of what was necessary for the United States.
President Warren didn’t want anyone like that at the helm of the US intelligence community. He had enough of a vulnerability with the Taskforce’s very existence. What was needed to rein in such men was a manager like Bruce. A man who took the rules seriously, and would drop the hammer to maintain compliance. If it wasn’t codified into law, then it wouldn’t be executed by any agency under his control.
Bruce had grown up in the Central Intelligence Agency at a very difficult time, thrown into the maelstrom of the Middle East during the seventies and eighties. He’d been tangentially involved with Iran-Contra, an effort to free US hostages in Lebanon through less than legal means, and had thought the entire effort was an abortion. A huge, dancing polar bear of a circus designed to avoid US law.
The mess had spawned a plethora of second-guessing on other intelligence operations where none was required, but he understood why. If you did secret things, you needed to ensure you walked the line. The minute you didn’t, people assumed you had strayed long before with much broader implications than the ones they were looking at. Like what was occurring now with the Snowden revelations.
President Warren knew that Bruce had his hands full dealing with the constant barrage of leaks, trying to stem the sea of distrust springing forth from Internet conspiracies. He didn’t envy the man, but that’s why he had been hired. He wondered what had caused Bruce to remain behind, knowing it wouldn’t be good.
He said, “Can I help you, Bruce? Was there something else you wanted to say?”
The DNI shuffled forward, his thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses making him seem much older than he was. Making him look like a librarian instead of a spymaster. President Warren knew those looks were deceiving.
“Yes, sir. You remember the Boris file we were discussing? About Russian intentions with Syria and Iran?”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“There’s more than just Russian intentions in those documents. There are Russian reports of American activities, and some of those activities are volatile.”
President Warren waited a beat, then said, “And?”
“And they could have a significant impact on the current trust in government if they were exposed right now.”
Warren leaned back into his chair and studied his DNI. It was the first time the man had ever suggested hiding something for reasons other than to prevent the loss of sources or methods. The first time he’d ever broached the subject of burying something simply to protect reputations and the facade of
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