Going Nuclear. Stephen Hart

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      “Good question. Good question. We already have a number of operations in place concerning the Panthers. You’ll be getting updates on those activities regularly along with updates on student dissidence.”

      “What kind of operations concerning the Panthers?”

      “Well, I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Blackstone Rangers, for example, but they’re a local black gang that’s heavily armed and into violence. We believe they could be a serious threat if they ever joined forces with the Panthers. So we’re taking steps to prevent this from happening. We’re pitting them against each other every chance we get, trying to get them to wipe each other out if we can.”

      “How are you doing that?”

      “We use fake letters and phone calls and newspaper stories to make each side think the other side is looking for trouble. And it seems to be working. There have been several confrontations recently and an actual shooting. We know, because we have informants in both groups.”

      “What do you mean, fake letters?”

      “Oh, we’ve written open letters to the Panthers in local newspapers, for example, putting down their leaders, accusing them of just being in it for themselves and not really caring about black people, things like that. And then we made it look like the letters came from the Rangers. And vice versa, of course.”

      “I see.” Vic turned away and inhaled through his nose a couple of times, as if he were trying to breathe in some clean air. The activities Bono described seemed creepy to him, unsavory—tactics that he associated more with dirty politics and subversive activities, not the kind of assignment he had envisioned when he joined the Bureau. At this point, it was clear that he would have much preferred continuing with his old assignment, going after slick white-collar criminals who knew full well that what they were doing was illegal but thought they could get away with it because they were a little smarter than the law. This new assignment seemed to be about harassing misguided black kids. True, many of them had contempt for authority, but most could probably straighten out in time on their own if they weren’t saddled first with a criminal record. Vic cleared his throat. “This is different from the type of work I have been doing, very different.”

      “I know it is. But as I said, a big part of your job will be to do everything you can to help undermine and discredit these militant black groups, especially the Panthers. We have to continue going after their leaders, their newspapers, their supporters, everything. I hope you have the stomach for this kind of thing.”

      “I’m sure I can do what I have to do,” Vic replied.

      “I hope so. I know these are different times. And some of our older agents have had trouble adapting to the new demands placed on them.”

      “I’ll try to adjust to whatever the situation calls for.”

      “Good. As I said, of particular concern to us these days is the potential for collaboration between the Panthers and campus radicals. For the most part, these so-called radicals are just college kids blowing off steam. They’ve had it pretty easy growing up, but now they find themselves in college, facing academic pressure, probably for the first time, with the very real possibility of military service looming in their future.”

      “Academic pressure?”

      “Oh, sure, sure. Most of these college students don’t graduate. They find the coursework difficult, and they don’t want to put in the effort to succeed. Most of them probably don’t even belong in college in the first place. That’s one of the fallacies we live with today.” Bono tapped his pen on the desk. “Everyone should go to college. So for the ones having trouble, life suddenly seems hard, doesn’t seem fair. Life in high school was easy, but now it’s not. They want to complain. They want to rebel. And who better to direct their frustration at than what they see as their oppressive government waging an unpopular war? So, we have to make sure these kids don’t fall in with the kind of people who could do some real damage, people like the Panthers.” An uneasy pause followed. “So tell me,” Bono said abruptly, “how did you happen to join the Bureau?”

      Here we go again, Vic thought. “Well, I got my law degree in the late thirties while the Depression was still going strong. It was almost impossible to make a living as an inexperienced lawyer in those days, so I took a job in the post office to get by. Then World War II came, and I enlisted in the Army and served in the OSS. After that, a few of us were offered jobs with the CIA, but I didn’t want an overseas assignment. So they suggested that I apply for a job with the Bureau instead, which sounded great. Interesting work, security, a sense of accomplishment; all of the things I was looking for.”

      “Are you happy with your choice?” Bono frowned as he asked the question.

      “Sure. Working for the Bureau has done a lot for me. I really appreciate the opportunity I was given.” What is he getting at? Vic wondered.

       “But now the scene has changed,” Bono said. “In addition to mobsters and foreign spys, we have college protesters and racial unrest. These are crazy times.”

      “Yes, but I think a lot of it has to do with the war.”

      “The war is supported by most Americans. Don’t forget that. And our job is to support our government, no matter what our personal opinions are.”

      “That has never been an issue with me.”

      “Right. You have a daughter, don’t you?”

      “Yes, Denise. A good kid, nothing like the young people we’ve been talking about. She has her head on straight: in her sophomore year down at Champaign-Urbana. She’s going to be an English teacher.”

      Good Lord, Vic thought. It wasn’t enough that he had to present a professional, up-to-date image myself. Now his daughter and presumably his wife were going to have to pass muster as well. Vic gazed at the coffee cup on Bono’s desk and let his mind drift. His wife. What about his wife these days? For the last few months or so she had become distant, lashing out at him when he tried to talk with her, then retreating into their bedroom to read, preferably alone. Something was definitely wrong, but there was no time to think about that now. He had to sell the image, had to at least make it to retirement. “Yes, we’re just the typical American family you never hear about,” Vic said. He considered adding, “My wife just makes sure the life insurance policies are paid up,” but decided this was no time for bad jokes.

      “That’s good, very good. You’re right, of course. Your daughter is the kind of kid we never hear about in the news. So tell me, have you had a chance to look over the case that was assigned to you yesterday? I asked Jim to pass it on to you with the memo.”

      “Yes, I did.” Vic took a small notebook from his coat, opened it, and began reading: “Subject is Joshua Taylor. Black male, University of Illinois grad student, active in Students for a Democratic Society. Killed two days ago by a bullet wound to the head. No leads, no weapon. Nothing to go on at this point, other than Washington’s interest in a white girl that Taylor associated with named Billie Lee.” Vic looked up. “So do you think this may have had something to do with the Black Panthers?” he asked.

      “We don’t know yet, but we are looking for any connection we can find. As you said, this Joshua Taylor was very active in SDS. But he was also black. So he may have had some involvement with the Panthers as well, which could work to our advantage.”

      “How?”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ