Dead or Alive - Tom Clancy [106]
“We can’t all be Ed Foley or Mary Pat.”
“They also have colorful files, but we’re trying to get away from that as the world evolves.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, it is today. The world’s changed. The Romania job you and Chavez pulled off—that must have been exciting.”
“That’s one way to put it. Not often you find yourself in a foreign country in the middle of a revolution, but we got the job done before we skipped the country.”
“You killed your subject,” Alden said, somewhat distastefully.
“He needed killing,” Clark said in reply, eyes locked on to Alden’s face.
“It was against the law.”
“I’m not an attorney, sir.” And an executive order, even a presidential one, wasn’t exactly statutory or constitutional law. This guy was a quintessential desk-sitter, John realized. If it wasn’t written down, it wasn’t real, and if it wasn’t authorized in writing, then it was wrong. “When someone points a loaded firearm at you,” Clark said, “it’s a little late to start formal negotiations.”
“You try to avoid such contingencies?”
“I do.” It’s better to shoot the bastards in the back and unarmed, but that’s not always possible, Clark thought. When it’s life and death, the concept of a fair fight went out the window. “My mission was to apprehend that individual and, if possible, to hand him over to appropriate authorities. Didn’t work out.”
“Your relations with law enforcement have not always been friendly,” Alden said, flipping through pages of the classified file.
“Excuse me, does that file have my driving record in it?”
“Your friendship with senior people has been helpful to your career.”
“I suppose so, but that happens with a lot of people. I generally accomplish my missions, and that’s why I stayed around so long. Mr. Alden, what is the purpose of this interview?”
“Well, as deputy DO I have to be familiar with people in the Clandestine Service, and looking over this, I see that you’ve had a most colorful career. You’re lucky you lasted this long, and you can now look back on a singular career.”
“And my next assignment?”
“There is no next assignment. Oh, you can go back to The Farm as a training officer, but really my best advice would be for you to take your retirement. It’s well earned. Your retirement papers are ready for processing. You’ve earned it, John,” he said, with the cold hint of a smile.
“But if I were twenty years younger, you would not have a place for me?”
“Maybe an embassy posting,” Alden said. “But neither one of us is twenty years younger. The Agency’s changed, Mr. Clark. We’re getting out of the paramilitary business, except when we have people assigned directly to us from Delta Force, for example, but we’re trying to get away from the hands-on stuff that you and Chavez have specialized in. The world is a kinder and gentler place.”
“Tell that to New Yorkers, maybe?” Clark asked evenly.
“There are other ways to deal with things like that. The trick is finding out ahead of time and encouraging people to take a different path if they want to get our attention.”
“How, exactly, does one do that—theoretically, of course?”
“That’s an issue we address here on the seventh floor, on a case-by-case basis.”
“Out in the field, issues like that one don’t always arrive in your lap in a manner which allows referral to headquarters. You have to trust your people to take the initiative, and support them when they do so intelligently. I’ve been there. It can get awfully lonely out there in the field if you do not have confidence in the people behind you, especially when they’re five thousand miles behind you.”
“Initiative works well in the movies but not in the real world.”
When’s the last time you were out in the field in the real world? Clark wanted to ask but did not. He was not in here for an argument or even a discussion. He was here only to listen to the voice of God, and relayed from this academic asshole. It had happened before at the Agency, but back in the 1970s, when he’d avoided involuntary retirement for the first time, with the help of James Greer, he’d made something of a