he pulled her to him, and they kissed. It was a gentle kiss, soft lips and warm breath and his fingertips light on the back of her neck. She held the lapel of his rough tweed coat and pulled him closer. If he grabbed her now, she would not resist, she knew. The thought made her burn with desire. Feeling wild, she took his lip between her teeth and bit.
She heard Denny’s voice. “Who’s out there?”
She pulled away from Luke and looked out. There were lights on in the house, and Denny stood in the doorway, wearing a purple silk dressing gown.
She turned back to Luke. “I could fall in love with you in about twenty minutes,” she said. “But I don’t think we can be friends.”
She stared at him a moment longer, seeing in his eyes the same churning conflict she felt in her heart. Then she looked away, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.
“Billie?” said Denny. “For heaven’s sake, what are you doing here?”
She crossed the yard, stepped onto the porch, and fell into his arms. “Oh, Denny,” she murmured. “I love that man, and he belongs to some woman!”
Denny patted her back with a delicate touch. “Honey, I know just how you feel.”
She heard the car move and turned to wave. As it swung by, she saw Luke’s face, and the glint of something shiny on his cheeks.
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
8.30 A . M .
Perched on top of the pointed nose of the Redstone rocket is what looks like a large birdhouse with a steeply pitched roof and a flagpole stuck through its center. This section, about 13 feet long, contains the second, third, and fourth stages of the missile—and the satellite itself.
Secret agents in America had never been as powerful as they were in January 1958.
The Director of the CIA, Allen Dulles, was the brother of John Foster Dulles, Eisenhower’s Secretary of State—so the Agency had a direct line into the administration. But that was only half the reason.
Under Dulles were four Deputy Directors, only one of whom was important—the Deputy Director for Plans. The Plans Directorate was also known as CS, for Clandestine Services, and this was the department that had carried out coups against left-leaning governments in Iran and Guatemala.
The Eisenhower White House had been amazed and delighted by how cheap and bloodless these coups were, especially by comparison with the cost of a real war such as that in Korea. Consequently, the guys in Plans enjoyed enormous prestige in government circles—though not among the American public, who had been told by their newspapers that both coups were the work of local anticommunist forces.
Within the Plans Directorate was Technical Services, the division that Anthony Carroll headed. He had been hired when the CIA was set up in 1947. He had always planned to work in Washington—his major atHarvard had been government—and he had been a star of OSS in the war. Posted to Berlin in the fifties, he had organized the digging of a tunnel from the American sector to a telephone conduit in the Soviet zone and had tapped into KGB communications. The tunnel remained undiscovered for six months, during which the CIA amassed a mountain of priceless information. It had been the greatest intelligence coup of the Cold War, and Anthony’s reward had been the top job.
Technical Services was theoretically a training division. There was a big old farmhouse down in Virginia where recruits learned how to break into houses and plant concealed microphones, to use codes and invisible ink, to blackmail diplomats and browbeat informers. But “training” also served as an all-purpose cover for covert actions inside the U.S.A. The fact that the CIA was prohibited, by law, from operating within the United States was no more than a minor inconvenience. Just about anything Anthony wanted to do, from bugging the phones of union bosses to testing truth drugs on prison inmates, could be labelled a training exercise.
The surveillance of Luke was no
She heard Denny’s voice. “Who’s out there?”
She pulled away from Luke and looked out. There were lights on in the house, and Denny stood in the doorway, wearing a purple silk dressing gown.
She turned back to Luke. “I could fall in love with you in about twenty minutes,” she said. “But I don’t think we can be friends.”
She stared at him a moment longer, seeing in his eyes the same churning conflict she felt in her heart. Then she looked away, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.
“Billie?” said Denny. “For heaven’s sake, what are you doing here?”
She crossed the yard, stepped onto the porch, and fell into his arms. “Oh, Denny,” she murmured. “I love that man, and he belongs to some woman!”
Denny patted her back with a delicate touch. “Honey, I know just how you feel.”
She heard the car move and turned to wave. As it swung by, she saw Luke’s face, and the glint of something shiny on his cheeks.
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
8.30 A . M .
Perched on top of the pointed nose of the Redstone rocket is what looks like a large birdhouse with a steeply pitched roof and a flagpole stuck through its center. This section, about 13 feet long, contains the second, third, and fourth stages of the missile—and the satellite itself.
Secret agents in America had never been as powerful as they were in January 1958.
The Director of the CIA, Allen Dulles, was the brother of John Foster Dulles, Eisenhower’s Secretary of State—so the Agency had a direct line into the administration. But that was only half the reason.
Under Dulles were four Deputy Directors, only one of whom was important—the Deputy Director for Plans. The Plans Directorate was also known as CS, for Clandestine Services, and this was the department that had carried out coups against left-leaning governments in Iran and Guatemala.
The Eisenhower White House had been amazed and delighted by how cheap and bloodless these coups were, especially by comparison with the cost of a real war such as that in Korea. Consequently, the guys in Plans enjoyed enormous prestige in government circles—though not among the American public, who had been told by their newspapers that both coups were the work of local anticommunist forces.
Within the Plans Directorate was Technical Services, the division that Anthony Carroll headed. He had been hired when the CIA was set up in 1947. He had always planned to work in Washington—his major atHarvard had been government—and he had been a star of OSS in the war. Posted to Berlin in the fifties, he had organized the digging of a tunnel from the American sector to a telephone conduit in the Soviet zone and had tapped into KGB communications. The tunnel remained undiscovered for six months, during which the CIA amassed a mountain of priceless information. It had been the greatest intelligence coup of the Cold War, and Anthony’s reward had been the top job.
Technical Services was theoretically a training division. There was a big old farmhouse down in Virginia where recruits learned how to break into houses and plant concealed microphones, to use codes and invisible ink, to blackmail diplomats and browbeat informers. But “training” also served as an all-purpose cover for covert actions inside the U.S.A. The fact that the CIA was prohibited, by law, from operating within the United States was no more than a minor inconvenience. Just about anything Anthony wanted to do, from bugging the phones of union bosses to testing truth drugs on prison inmates, could be labelled a training exercise.
The surveillance of Luke was no
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