#hashtag BACK FIRED

Chapter Ten

About thirty years ago, Douglas Collins had been heading of the Paris Division of the CIA for fifteen years and it was his last year before retirement, when one dull day in November of that year, Javier, his French contact, strolled into his office looking excited, like the fisherman who just landed a big catch after many hours in the river.

Douglas became instantly cautious, wondering, at the back of mind, how much money he was going to have to part with this time.

The wizened little man, though had provided reliable information in the past, one couldn't be more careful these austere times when quality of information was becoming increasingly a scarce commodity. People were prepared to trade any form of junk which they studiously coated with the honey of mysticism - for peanuts. The little expense incurred may well be written off as bad debt, but any action taken based on false or inaccurate information could become extremely disastrous, causing irrevocable damage to both the CIA and the United States of America. More-so that international sympathy for the American cause was fast thinning out.

“Javier,” Douglas said, “good to see you. How's the weather catching up with you?”

Javier grinned nervously, eyes darting around the small office.

“Fine, “ Javier said, settling more comfortably in chair. “I is the one trying to catch up with the weather. The weather may not be at its best, but we are used to it. Thirty bloody years down the road, is it? One gets cottoned to anything. Remember the good ol' days, we lived for the weather in Paris. I mean...”

“Javier,” Douglas said coldly, “I'm a very a busy man. It may not appear so to you, but I am, believe me. I also believe that you did not just walk in here to discuss the weather with me, did you?”

Javier looked unhappy at this snappy treatment. Times were, when he and old Dougy hung around together, nursing drinks and making idle talk and whiling away the hours. But of course, things were different now. Others kept soaring up in the scheme of life, while others went down. Such was the order of life, wasn't it?

Javier shrugged and, placing his wizened, bony fingers on the desk top, leaned forward purposefully.

“I have a guy,” he said in a low voice, “not such a very big shot, but I can guarantee he has a coupla names on his fingertips. Names that your mighty government has been angling for many years to lay their hands on but apparently without much success.”

“Make your point, Javier,” Douglas urged.

“Not just names, Dougy,” Javier added, staring meaningfully at Douglas. “Names and addresses and times. Arrests would be inevitable. Your President will look good to his people. Your government would love that, isn't that right?”

Douglas closed the file he had been studying before Javier walked in. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I would not be in a position to make an informed decision – a reliably informed decision, if there is not a chance that I can verify the information which I received from anyone, including you, Javier, you know that.”

“Calling my bluff already, Dougy?”

“Who is this guy? What's his name? Where's he come from? But most importantly, why is he offering information?”

Javier said nothing. He stared blankly at Douglas, his hawk-like face looking sad.

“Alright, this man,” Douglas said, “what does he want in exchange for his information?”

Javier let a thin smile twist his dry lips.

“Now you are talking like old smart Dougy,” he said. “My man wants American citizenship. Free passport. Free passage. And access to his huge funds