Brian Haig - The Kingmaker

“Everything?”

“Did you actually turn down Harvard Law?”

“I never applied. That’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“And your IQ and won-lost record?”

“I might’ve gotten them mixed up.”

“Oh shit. Please tell me you really speak Russian.”

She smiled. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

Brian Haig

The Kingmaker

At 8:00 A.M., William Morrison was shackled to the table as Katrina flipped on the tape recorder she’d thoughtfully brought along. As with the night before, Morrison appeared moody and disgruntled, and like my whole life before this moment, I could barely stand to look at this pompous, bullying jerk.

I began, “Okay, General, start with this. If you’re innocent, why do you think they arrested you?”

“I told you, Drummond, I don’t fucking know. I never betrayed this country… I swear I didn’t.”

Katrina placed a hand on my arm and interjected, “We’re your attorneys. You’ve got our presumption of innocence. Help us think this through.”

“All right. Maybe somebody was jealous of me.”

Actually, I knew him, and he didn’t have my presumption of innocence, so I said, “Jealous enough to do this?” punctuating my words just so.

“Maybe… why not? Sure.”

Katrina quickly said, “Okay, it’s a possibility. Can you think of others?”

“I was framed.”

She asked, “By who?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?”

“Oh, Christ!” I exploded.

Katrina looked at him, then at me and asked, “Are you two enjoying this?”

I tried to look innocent. “Enjoying what?”

“This shit has to stop,” she said. “Why don’t I step out of the room so you two can pound the crap out of each other?”

Morrison said, “He needs to remember my rank. I won’t put up with his disrespectful attitude. He’s exploiting my position.”

I replied, “Oh, horseshit.”

“You,” she said, pointing at Morrison, “you asked him to be your attorney. Why?”

“I needed a JAG officer.”

“There are hundreds of JAG officers. You asked for him.”

“I was fucking desperate.”

“So desperate you asked for the guy who used to date your wife? Help me out here.”

“Okay, because he’s a prick… a first-rate prick. In a situation like mine, that’s what you look for. A real bastard.”

“It sounds to me like you know him well.” She began whirling an arm through the air, like she was reeling words out of his mouth. “Because you were with him in Lebanon and know he’s not a guy who’ll take no for an answer? And you know he’s tough and resourceful and smart, right?”

I smiled and nodded. That was me all right. No question about it-the girl had read me like a book.

“You’re overstating it.”

“Which part did I overstate?”

“All right,” he sullenly conceded. “I read about a few of his cases. I know he’s a good lawyer.”

“And you.” She wheeled that finger in my face. “Could we be having a macho pissing contest here?”

Now Morrison was smiling, and I replied, “Hell no.”

“Eddie Golden’s going to love you two.” She looked at him and explained, “He’s the stud they picked to prosecute you. Wait till you see him. The military has nine men on death row, and he made the reservations for four of them. You’re on his calendar as number five.”

This background had come from Imelda, I realized. She faced me and said, “And he’s got a six-month head start on you. Not to mention all those people he’s got working under him. So cut the shit.”

Wow. Morrison and I stared at each other.

Nobody spoke.

I finally asked, “So, sir, did you have any indication you were under suspicion?”

He replied, “Good question, Major. No, my first indication of this whole thing was the day they arrested me in Moscow.”

“You saw no signs, nobody hinted…?”

“Never.”

“Where were you assigned in 1988?”

He stared up at the ceiling. “That was the year before I got married… Washington.”

“Doing what?”

“Working at the CIA.”

“Isn’t that an unusual place for an Army officer to work?”

“Yes and no. Each year the Army selects a few officers to work in other intelligence agencies.” He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “It’s a plum job for elite officers.”

Did I really have to put up with this? “And where were you working in the CIA?” I politely inquired.

“Soviet Affairs.”

Having already reviewed his record I knew he was a Soviet Foreign Affairs officer, had been sent by the Army to the language school in California, then for a graduate degree in Russian studies at Harvard, and then spent six months at the Russian Center in Garmisch, Germany. Presumably, Morrison did well at his training, as the Army tries to hide its dunces and uglies rather than assign them to other agencies.

I asked, “Did you have access to knowledge that would’ve been helpful to the Soviets?”

“I saw everything.”

Katrina said, “Describe everything.”

“Military assessments, what you’d call spy reports, the most sensitive satellite shots and electronic intercepts. If I asked for it, I got it.”

I asked, “Was this material controlled?”

“There were safeguards. You’d get a paper with a control number stamped on it, so you had to keep the original. The office copiers had control methods, too. But sneak in a camera and take a picture, and nobody would ever know.”

“Like Ames did?”

“Exactly.”

Katrina asked, “Did you have any dealings with the Soviets?”

“Not then, no. I got occasional invitations to cocktail parties at the Soviet embassy, but I always reported those contacts to the Agency.”

I leaned forward. “Did you ever go?”

“Are you kidding? I knew why they were inviting me.”

“Why?”

“To see if I was vulnerable.”

When I didn’t reply to that, he continued, “They first try to establish social contact with a target. They charm you. They probe to see if you’re disaffected, or need money, or are vulnerable to flattery or sexual overtures. They make their try, and if it works, the game’s on. If it doesn’t, they invite someone else to the party.”

Katrina asked, “Did you know any Soviets?”

“A few. Mary’s job put her in much more contact than mine. That rubbed off, though.”

I asked, “Why? What was Mary doing?”

He stopped and leaned back in his chair. “Wait a goddamn minute, Drummond. I’m not dragging her into this.”

I drew a deep breath and very nicely said, “Neither am I, General. But yours wasn’t just any marriage. There are all kinds of possible intersections we’ll need to sort out.”

He considered this. “You’re not going to involve her in this?”

“She’s already involved. She’s interviewing lawyers. Would you prefer I learn these things from Eddie Golden in the courtroom?”

A truculent scowl shifted into place. “Okay, okay. But you better be damned careful with what I tell you about her activities. You got that?”

Surely, this was the appropriate moment to remind him that I used to sleep with her, too. Okay, right… perhaps not.

He said, “Mary was a case officer. She was controlling some assets.”

Katrina said, “Like spies… agents… targets?”

“All the above. Mary was in a cell that worked the Soviet embassy and the large contingent at the UN.”

“And how did that bring you in contact with Soviet citizens?”

“It didn’t. I knew who she was meeting with, though. I’m only warning you about this in case any of those people were exposed.”