Everyone in the department had off that weekend, so Barden and Durant took their young wives out of the city to go hiking. Henry Barden and Howard Durant were two of the only agents who maintained a friendship outside of the office. The Agency frowned upon that sort of thing, under the theory that friendship could undermine professionalism, which the Director explicitly said meant, “cold, impersonal, devoid of all attachment that could compromise the mission.”
But their wives were friends, too, and had known each other since childhood. So, the two agents figured that if anyone ever pressed them, they had the excuse that, “We can’t exactly tell Sally and Jeanie they can’t spend time together anymore just because we work together. And if they want to get out of the city, well, then we’re going too.”
The four of them drove out in Durant’s Pontiac Firebird, because it was new and because it was the perfect car for a drive out into western Virginia. It took nearly two hours for them to arrive at the lake, where they left their picnic lunch in the car and set off on the perimeter trail.
The lake was small, so the walk only took an hour and it was nearing lunchtime when they arrived back at the car. Durant and Barden helped their wives set out the blanket, as they laughed and chatted. Everyone knew they couldn’t talk about what the two men did all day at the office, so the conversation sometimes had to skirt around work and peter into safe topics. Naturally, Barden brought up baseball eventually.
“It would have been nice if they’d given us off for Opening Day. Even just a few hours.”
“They’re never going to do that, Henry. You know that.”
“But it was in Baltimore this year. It’s right down the road.”
“Oh, don’t bring up baseball, Hank. You two’ve got all week to talk about that at the office. I want to talk about something fun. The four of us don’t get to spend all that much time together anymore.”
“Yes dear. It’s been busy at work. You know. We don’t get a chance to talk much at the office. I’m sorry. It’s nice we had Saturday off today for a change. We can talk about something else.”
The two men exchanged glances. Rumor was the Soviets were talking about adopting a new constitution, which might mean new tasking for both of them. And there was some turmoil still going on at the Agency with the new administration. But mainly, it was Rodriguez’s murder, which meant a lot of sleepless nights for both of them – for multiple reasons. Their wives didn’t know, and they couldn’t say anything. There was an internal investigation going on at the Agency. Someone higher up suspected a rat had given the Soviets the tip on Rodriguez.
The conversation turned to politics. None of them voted, but they were hopeful that the new administration could clear up some of the bad mood that had prevailed in Washington the last several years.
“I don’t know that I like his all of his policies, but it’s a change – and that’s what we need.”
“And he seems a decent fellow. Ford was decent, too, but we could use some decency in office for at least a little while.”
They ate as they talked – bologna sandwiches and lemonade that Sally had made. When they finished, Sally and Jeanie said they both wanted to take a nap.
“You up for a hike? I wanted to get up to that ridge today if we can,” Durant said to Barden.
“Absolutely. I need it.”
Neither of them added that it would give them a chance to talk in private.
Jeanie laughed. “You boys just going to go and leave us all alone down here by the lake? We might need some big strapping men to protect us,” she joked.
“We can protect each other, Jeanie,” said Sally. “It’s a new era. We don’t need men to do it.”
Everyone laughed and the two women lay back in on the ground, one on the blanket, one in the grass. Barden and Durant started off up the small mountain overlooking the lake.
As they walked, the conversation naturally turned to work.
“What time did you finish last night?” asked Durant.
“What? Oh, yeah. Uh, must’ve been around 7.”
“Yes, I saw you staying late and I was surprised.”
“I had to finish that report.”
“On this Soviet third constitution rumor?”
“It’s more than a rumor, but yes.”
There was a pause as they navigated a particularly steep and technical section of the rocky trail. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the elephant in the room filled the void left by that gap in their conversation.
“How you doing?” Durant asked his friend. “You know. After Rodriguez,” he added when the other agent looked at him quizzically.
“Oh. Of course. Well. He’s been on my mind.”
“You knew him better than I did. Still, I had trouble sleeping every night this week. I’m still reeling. You know, he’s the first agent I’ve known who we’ve lost.”
“Same. A good man.”
“A good agent. Hope he took a few of the red bastards with him.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt it,” said Barden. “They almost certainly surprised him.”
“Oh really? Why, exactly do you think that?”
“Well, on Monday when they told us, they said he’d been found in his bed. Must’ve been asleep. Besides, if the Director thinks someone tipped them off, I doubt Rodriguez would’ve suspected they were on to him.”
Durant gave his friend a puzzled expression. “I didn’t hear that bit about him being in his bed,” he said. “And Rodriguez slept with a gun under his pillow in his own bed in Maryland. He’s been doing that ever since he was in Cambodia. I doubt they could have caught him unawares.”
Barden shrugged. “I was in a different brief from you,” he said. He sighed. “Do you mind if we talk about something else?” he added.
“Sure. It’s been harder on you than me. You knew him better.”
They walked in silence for a minute or so. Finally, Durant asked, “I can’t help but ask, though. I didn’t get a chance to ask you all week. We can change the subject soon, but I just want to know what you think about the Director’s theory. You know, that there’s a mole in the Agency. Do you really think he’s right? I think he’s a bit paranoid, to tell you the truth.”
Agent Barden pondered this for a moment. At last, he said, “Actually, I think the Director might be right.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You remember that mission in Greece a year ago? The one that got bungled?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t working on that at the time. You were, right?”
“Yes. I didn’t tell you, but the Director suspected a rat then, too. Apparently, the Soviets were ready for our guys. It was like they knew we were coming.”
“Damn. A mole. Damn. I’m still not sure, but there’s gonna be an investigation.”
Durant shot him a wry glance. “You worried?” he asked.
“Not really. How many damned background investigations did they have to do to you and me just to get to where we’re at? I mean, if any of us had anything in our past, the Director would damn well know about it. Hell, I didn’t even try pot in college. Let alone anything else. I’ve got no skeletons in my closet.”
“Right, but I don’t know that any of us do. As you say, everyone’s been checked out pretty thoroughly. If the Soviets got to someone, it must’ve been after they already worked at the Agency.”
“How?”
“Same ways we try on their guys: money, women, loss of faith in the regime, kompromat.”
“I guess. I don’t think I want to talk about any of this anymore either.”
“Same.”
The conversation lapsed into silence again. They walked on. The trees were thinning out the higher they climbed.
Durant asked Barden what happened with the conclusion of the Wentworth Task Force. Wentworth was a code word. Recently, the Agency had been assigning missions random surnames that didn’t belong to anyone working there.
“Oh,” Barden waved his hand, “it finished fine. You know, same old song and dance. Lot more paperwork than any actual action.” Then his face lit up as if he remembered something. “Actually,” he said, “there was something funny at the end. Gordon said the Director thought someone might have been passing information, classified documents, something to a foreigner. It didn’t seem connected at the time to any of this other stuff, but now…”
“Yeah, I heard that rumor.”
“Really? I didn’t think it spread widely internally.”
“It did.”
Now, they were getting very close to the top. The mountain – which really was more of a glorified hill – had a bare, rocky peak looking out over the lake. There was a ledge that was popular with amateur photographers. Surprisingly, the lake was fairly empty today. There’d been a smog warning put out and the forecast had been threatening rain – which had held off, but which perhaps had kept the crowds away. There was also a county fair going on only a few miles from the lake. The two men had the trail entirely to themselves.
They climbed up onto the ledge. It was wide and broad – so large in fact that Barden remarked they could have brought the picnic up and had it there.
“Sally doesn’t like heights,” replied Durant. “She’d spend the whole time thinking about that drop-off there.”
“You think anyone’s ever fallen off?”
“Maybe suicide attempts. Dunno. Nobody could survive that kind of fall.”
“You’re right.”
The conversation paused again as both men looked out over the lake and the trees and the mountains beyond. They could see into West Virginia, where the greenish-blue mountains rolled off into the horizon.
“Jeanie let slip that she didn’t join you on that trip to Mexico back in January.”
Agent Barden slowly turned his head to look at Durant. “She told you this?” he asked.
“Sally did. I’d mentioned something to her, and naturally she asked your wife how it went. Jeanie said she had no idea, because you’d been alone.”
“It was personal. Cousin of mine. A private family matter. We’re keeping it hush, and I didn’t want her to know about my cousin.”
Durant looked down at the lakeside far below, where their wives had left the picnic blanket and wandered down to the shore. He could just pick out his wife’s green scarf. “That’s funny,” he said, “because your wife said you told her it was a work trip.”
“That’s what I told her. Don’t you do that? Tell you wife it’s Agency business if you don’t want to talk about something? It’s the perfect alibi. You have to admit, that’s one of the perks of having a job you can’t talk about.”
Durant sighed. “I can’t say I’ve ever done that,” he said.
“Well, that’s what I told her,” Barden replied.
“Was it?”
“Was what?”
“Was it a work trip? A top-secret mission even I don’t have need-to-know for?”
Barden smiled. “Would I tell you if it was?” he asked.
“No, but you might try to spin a story about a cousin – when I remember you saying once you didn’t have any aunts or uncles.”
“Distant cousin. If you must know, he hears voices. That’s not something the family likes people to know. So, we naturally try to keep it a secret. I appreciate your discretion in this matter – you’re a good man to keep a secret, Howard.”
“Yes,” said Durant frowning. “That’s one thing our line of work does well. It teaches a man to keep a secret.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
Agent Durant was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “you don’t know what I’ve been working on these past two months.”
“No. Are you about to tell me? Is that a violation of your oath?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. We will see. I’ve been tasked with tracking the activities of a Soviet sleeper cell here in the States. We turned one of them a few months ago and he’s been feeding me information. Not a lot. Bits and pieces. He doesn’t seem to know much. Maybe he’s playing us for fools – or thinks he is. Could be the Soviets told him to pretend to become our friend. But I’m not sure about that.”
“Where is he?”
“Up in Delaware. But I’ve been tailing one of their other agents here in Washington. I follow him around some. Usually, nothing comes of that. He’s got to eat and sleep and shit like any other man and that seems to be what he spends most of his time doing. That and holding a fake job pretending to pay the bills. But this guy we turned up in Delaware tells me the Soviets have turned one of our guys. Says they have a mole in the Agency. It would seem to confirm the Director’s theory.”
Durant kept his face blank as he stared out over the distant mountains. He paused and then turned to look his friend in the eye. Barden was watching him warily.
“Hank, I saw you at Old Ebbitt on Sunday night. You didn’t know I saw you. You were meeting with my guy. The one I’m tailing. You said you were at the office until seven last night. I went back around half past six. You were gone.”
“Must’ve been six then. I was mistaken. Seven was a mistake. I didn’t look at the clock when I left. It felt late.”
“I did happen to glance at your desk when I came back last night.”
“Did you? Find anything?”
Durant stepped a little closer to his friend. Barden stepped back and looked at him cagily. Durant continued walking slowly, laterally now, keeping his face towards his friend.
“I found the file that Agent Roberts was missing. He’s been looking for it all week.”
“I found it for him before I left. Was going to give it back to him on Monday.”
“Why didn’t you just leave it on his desk? Especially since you didn’t have a need to know.”
“Exactly. I didn’t have a need to know and neither did anyone else. If I left it where someone might pick it up, then it might be intercepted by someone with less discretion than myself. I thought the best thing to do was to take responsibility for keeping it safe until I could deliver it to Roberts myself. And you know as well as I that I couldn’t exactly take it home, in violation of perhaps a dozen laws. You can’t prove I looked at it.”
“No, I can’t. For that matter, I can’t prove that it wasn’t a coincidence that you were meeting with that KGB guy on Sunday. But I don’t think it was.”
Durant had moved now so that his back was to the lake and the mountains. He stopped pacing and turned his body again so that he was directly facing his friend.
“Hank, I noticed you seemed a little unsurprised by Rodriguez’s death. And you’ve been much less cut up about it than I would have thought.”
“I’ve been grieving in private. I’m not gonna shed tears in the office. Come now, what are you suggesting? That I had a hand in it?”
“Yes.”
“Rodriguez was my friend! You’re my friend.”
“I thought I was,” said Agent Durant softly. He made his face go blank. “Hank,” he said. “I know it’s you. You can fake well enough for the rest of the office. But I know you too well. I know you’re the mole. I don’t know how the Soviets got to you, but they did. Maybe they had you all along, but I don’t believe that. Was it a woman? Some beautiful Russian girl? Or an American? Some Trotskyite coed radical who got co-opted by the regime and her own anger about Vietnam and Watergate? It can’t have been money.”
“It wasn’t a woman. You know I’m not one to play around behind Jeanie’s back.”
Durant smiled. The bait had worked. Barden’s expression changed. He realized he’d given the game up. He opened his mouth as if he were going to backpedal by adding that it wasn’t a woman because the Soviets hadn’t gotten to him, but Durant spoke first.
“So, if you didn’t go behind Jeanie’s back is she part of it then? Maybe they turned her and she turned you?”
“No! She’s not a part of it. She knows nothing!”
“Then, why, Hank? Why? Why did you do it? What did they have on you? Some dark secret from your past that even I don’t know about? What?” Durant shook his head. “You fool,” he added. “You must’ve known you couldn’t keep the game up. That you’d lose in the end. The internal investigation is going to find you. It was always going to come out in the end, eventually.”
“No. The investigation wouldn’t have found me out. You think Barnesby knows what he’s doing? He’s a bumbling fool.”
“I suppose you think you’re smarter than him? Smarter than all of us. Smarter than me. Maybe you think you’re some cold, hard soul. Maybe you really believed all that Machiavellian horseshit they try to stamp into us because they think it’ll make us better servants of our country in this sick spy business. Maybe you believed that the Agency had done their work on you all too well – that you’d gone beyond simplistic dichotomies like good and evil, communism and patriotism, foe and friendship. You betrayed your country, Hank. And your wife. And your friends.”
“Fine. You want to know why I flipped? You want to know how a guy like me could get so disillusioned as to sell out his country? Because I can read the writing on the wall. Barnesby’s not the only fool at the Agency. It’s filled with bumblers and idlers and incompetents. The Director’s an ass. We spend half our time in meetings and the other half playing idiotic turf-war games with the FBI and the DIA. I could see where this was going. Look around you, Howard. This nation’s falling apart. Our economy is in tatters. We never recovered from the bullshit assault on our values from the hippies – hell, you and I are still hated by the citizens of this country for doing our jobs and keeping them safe – our movie stars go and sleep with the enemy and they want to bring Maoism and the Viet Cong over here.
Our presidents have been a disgrace ever since Kennedy was shot – and half this country blames us for his death. You think Carter’s going to pull us out of this mess? Please. This nation doesn’t have confidence in itself anymore. We can’t lead. Nixon broke the presidency and Ford couldn’t put it back together again. Vietnam broke our military. We had our glory, our day in the sun. But it passed. It’s done. Over. We fixed Europe and drove out the Nazis and then we turned around gave all our treasure and all our resources to the very Germans and Italians we’d just defeated, along with the rest of Europe, too.
And that still wasn’t enough to stop the Soviets from taking over one half of that continent. Face it, Howard. It’s over. Our economy doesn’t work anymore. Maybe there’s some things you’ve just got to have central planning for. Maybe we’ve put too much blind faith in the free market to just work things out magically and we’re paying for it. Don’t you see? The Reds are going to win! We tried our approach and they tried their approach and we got to the Moon, but look at the gas lines right now. The Depression nearly destroyed us and we can’t stand another shock like that.
And say what you will about the Soviets, at least their young people don’t hate their own country. At least their young people aren’t a lot of ungrateful, sexually perverted, drug-addicted radicals. At least their young people don’t hate their parents – their parents who suffered through a decade of depression and then bled themselves nearly dry defeating the Nazis and didn’t so much as ask this country to thank them.
The Republicans are a lot of Nixonian crooks and the Democrats aren’t much better. Carter’s too inept to fix this mess. Nobody could. Maybe we trusted our foreign allies too much. Our so-called trading partners. But maybe it was just inevitable that the Russian bear would eat the American eagle. It’s over. I saw that we’d lost and I realized if I knew what was good for me, I had better choose the winning side before it was too late. So, I turned. I flipped. I jumped ship. I rejected the country that never appreciated my sacrifice – in Vietnam or here at the agency or ever. You say I betrayed my country? Howard, my country betrayed me.
Maybe you think I didn’t love my country enough. Look around you. You think anybody loves this country anymore? Maybe you and a handful of Boy Scouts who still eat that patriotic propaganda. The rest of this country’s too self-loathing even to muster half a cheer – let alone three – for some bicentennial last summer.
So, fine, you got me. I’m the mole.”
Durant didn’t smile. He kept his face impassive. He shook his head. “You didn’t think you’d be found out?” he asked. “You didn’t wonder what might happen to Jeanie? Or what she’d think of you? Now it’s all going to come out. There’ll be a trial and your face and name will be splashed all over the papers. Your reputation will be gone forever – you can’t get it back. And you’ll go to jail, probably for the rest of your life. You colluded with the enemy and your actions resulted in the death of an American patriot. The public won’t forgive you for that. Your friends won’t. And I doubt Jeanie will either. What do you think will happen to her? When you’re in prison?”
Agent Barden sneered. “I suppose I never counted on you finding me out,” he said. “And ratting me out to the whole Agency. That investigation’s going nowhere. Barnesby never would’ve found me out on his own.”
Suddenly, his eyes changed. A dangerous glint entered them. He looked quickly around to confirm his suspicion. He smiled. Barden was between Durant and the way down. Durant’s back was to the cliff. They looked at each other.
“I’m sorry, Howard,” said Barden.
“No. I’m sorry, Hank,” said Durant, holding his gaze. He nodded. “Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye.”
And Barden rushed his friend, holding his arms out to shove him off of the ledge. He cleared the few feet between them in a second. Durant appeared to freeze, and then when his friend was all but on top of him, he dove out of the way. His foot caught Barden’s and the turncoat tripped and tumbled.
And Barden’s momentum carried him off the ledge as he bellowed in surprise.
Durant managed to scramble over to the edge in time to see his former friend falling to his death. He could just make out Barden’s face as his howl gave way to a sad smile of resignation when he saw the face of his former friend – who’d gotten the better of him. Durant watched as his friend’s body hit the rocks below and broke. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Sally and Jeanie had heard Barden’s yell and they’d turned to look. They’d seen Barden fall. Durant watched now as they rushed over from the picnic blanket. Damn. Part of him wished they hadn’t seen. Part of him was glad. They’d make it to Barden’s body before he did. In some ways, that made his job easier now. In some ways that made it harder. He turned to head back down. He wished he had a cigarette.
Durant could picture what he’d say when he got to the bottom. “Hank and I were climbing on the rocks,” he’d say. “You know how daring he was. Always pulling crazy stunts. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t convince him not to do it and I couldn’t get to him in time when he slipped.”
He’d give Jeanie a hug and his wife would give her a hug and they’d cry and he’d shed a tear. He’d have to find a payphone to call someone to help him get the body. Maybe he’d call someone to take the girls back to Washington while he stayed to clean up.
He’d call his boss to tell him what happened. That they were climbing on the rocks. That Agent Barden had tripped and fallen to his death. Of course, he’d have to come clean to the Director. And anyone who knew about the mole and the Soviet ring. They’d probably have to kill the man Durant was tailing – he’d have to do it himself. This week. Maybe the man up in Delaware, too, unless he really didn’t know any more than he let on. Maybe he’d be useful in the future. But they’d have to bring him in from the cold and give him a place to hide.
For anyone outside, anyone who didn’t need to know, Agent Barden would have died a heroic public servant. He would be buried with honor and decorated as a loyal patriot. There would be a quiet funeral. No pictures. No press. Close relatives would be told that Barden had done important work for his country. This was, in fact, true. They just wouldn’t be told anything else that he had done.
The investigation would have to be concluded quietly. No mole would be found, although the Director would know. Maybe Durant would be promoted. Probably not. The Agency didn’t go in for that sort of thing, and it wouldn’t do to draw any attention. He’d probably just get a pat on the head and he’d be given a day of leave to mourn and he’d go back to his desk and his quiet work. And he’d say nothing to his wife, but he’d comfort her as she mourned, and she’d comfort Jeanie, and he’d never tell either of them the truth about Agent Barden.