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Secrets: Public Celebrity to CIA Secret Spy
Secrets: Public Celebrity to CIA Secret Spy
Secrets: Public Celebrity to CIA Secret Spy
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Secrets: Public Celebrity to CIA Secret Spy

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In Secrets, Dr. Sybil Norcroft feels as if she has gotten in over her head in a welter of secrets and conflicts. She undergoes a lie detector test, gets a major national award, and gets inveigled into a secret association with the CIA, all in a dizzyingly brief period of time. She used to think her career as a practicing neurosurgeon was serious; but, after she is vetted for her CIA position, she gains a new appreciation for “serious”. The director asks her, “After you are actively engaged in Company work, failing the lie detector test may mean a Company trial and swift and sure justice—the least noxious being dismissal. Any questions about the seriousness of that kind of justice?” Sybil felt chilly after completing that line of questioning. Her first assignment is to hack into the Russian president's computer system. The second assignment is to kill a man. What on earth has this nice lady from California gotten herself into?
LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 10, 2015
ISBN9781594334849
Secrets: Public Celebrity to CIA Secret Spy
Author

Carl Douglass

Carl Douglass has had a long and complex life. The highlights are having married Vera, having four children, 11 grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren. He has been a Teamster truck driver, a navy general surgeon, a practicing neurosurgeon, and a mental hospital general medical officer. He has written more than forty books of fiction, and ten nonfiction books. He lives in a quiet, smallish city in the Rocky Mountains with his wife and enjoys life there with her.

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    Secrets - Carl Douglass

    Fourteen

    Chapter One

    Sybil sat uncomfortably on a utilitarian chair. She had a good idea of what was going to go on, and had no explicit fear; but the Spartan room was discomfiting. She was in the J. Edgar Hoover Federal Bureau of Investigation building, after all.

    "This is a positive thing, just tell the truth; after all you are just here to be sure that you aren’t a monster undeserving of the great honor for which the president has recommended you, she told herself several times. And, yes, there is that secret part—two lie detector tests for the price of one."

    She seemed to get less sure of herself every time she repeated her litany. She decided to do her self-relaxation exercises and closed her eyes; so, her mind could take her somewhere else. She went back to a point a year ago when she was just a very successful neurosurgeon going about her satisfying practice; back to the time before she had been sued again for malpractice; back to that idyllic era before she had been indicted and tried for first degree murder and grand larceny. And, yes, before she had been thrust into the klieg-light glare of national prominence—fame or notoriety; she was unable to be sure she could tell the difference any longer.

    Two serious men entered the room.

    Good morning, Dr. Norcroft. I hope you are feeling well and relaxed this morning, the older of the two said by way of greeting.

    Good morning, gentlemen, Sybil responded.

    She noted that neither of the two ventured his name, the agency for which he worked, or his purpose.

    The younger man, dressed in his Class-A uniform—blue serge suit, white shirt, plain maroon tie, black wing-tip shoes from Brooks Brothers—did not greet nor speak to Dr. Norcroft. He sat at a small table and prepared recording materials.

    The older of the two was twice the age of the younger man, had a care-worn nearly expressionless face, and a nearly bald head sprouting patches of grey-white hair that had once been light brown. He wore an older version of the blue-serge suit—out-of-style three button jacket, pleated pants with cuffs, button-down white shirt with a bow tie, black suspenders, and highly polished black wing-tips as well-cared-for as the younger man’s but showing age along their seams.

    Dr. Norcroft, we are here to administer a polygraph test, or, as it is known popularly, a lie-detector test, said the older of the two agents, have you ever had a polygraph?

    No, Sir.

    All right, Doctor. Your part is simple in that test. When I ask you a question, you answer yes or no and do not amplify. Relax and tell the truth. We are not here to make judgments about the content of the information we gather from you, but our job is to come to a conclusion about whether or not you have lied to us. Everyone lies and does so frequently, often not even realizing that what they are saying is a lie. Everyone has secrets. Our interests lie in determining whether you are lying about anything we consider to be substantive and whether, over all, you are a truthful person or not. We do not make decisions about the fact that you either lie or tell the truth. That is for a higher authority. Do you understand me so far?

    I do.

    Are you ready?

    As I will ever be, I guess.

    Everything is going to be recorded, and a transcript printed. It will be ‘eyes and ears only’ for a handful of people who need to know including the president and a few of his close associates and to any senior officer of a federal agency who requests information about this examination and has the required top-secret clearance. Do you understand that part of what will happen today?

    Yes.

    I have clearance to tell you a couple of things you need to know. First, should you agree to a contract and are accepted for employment with an intelligence agency, you may lie upon occasion, may even be ordered to do so; but you must never lie in even the most trivial instance today or ever to your superiors—those who know about and handle your mission. Your polygraph interview today will never identify you by name, but will be given a number and will enter into the file that will be kept on you in accordance with the National Secrets Act. That understood?

    Yes, Sir, Sybil answered.

    At the risk of repeating myself, are you ready?

    Sybil was getting weary of the preliminaries and legalistic approach to everything federal she had thus far and contact with.

    I am, she said working to keep a note of irritation out of her voice and off her face.

    "He is just doing his job," she whispered inwardly, not for the last time during the polygraph experience.

    For now, my co-worker and I will query you about your activities and experiences in an interview format; and you are directed to give a narrative answer at this point in time. Tell me about your early life and educational background briefly.

    Sybil told him—them. It took forty minutes.

    The older man turned to the younger one, Your turn. The younger of the two men said, Doctor, tell us something about your life as a surgeon, please.

    Sybil told him about her internship and residency, about the research that led to her getting a Ph.D. in addition to her M.D., and the sexism she had had to cope with before finally getting the plum appointment on the staff of Joseph Nobel Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles, and then watching her career take wings. She told him about being subjected to less than equal respect at the hospital and then went into a lengthy review of her medical malpractice defense history—having been sued nine times in eleven years by the same plaintiff’s attorney.

    The older man took the next set of questions.

    You owned a horse breeding ranch, is that correct?

    Yes, it is.

    Did you employ illegal immigrants at any time?

    Briefly. Later on, they all were granted amnesty by President Bush and now hold green cards and are progressing towards citizenship.

    The young man took notes during which time there was quiet in the room.

    Did you ever ask your Mexican workers to do anything illegal?

    Sybil paused before answering, No, she said.

    You did not respond as quickly as you usually do to that question. Do you need to amplify your answer?

    Not really, I had to weigh in my mind whether anything illegal was done, and I came to the conclusion that none had.

    Tell us about your activities outside work.

    Sybil explained her extra-curricular involvement with LGPT and feminist organizations, her serious and time-consuming activities with the senior officers of neurosurgical groups and foundations.

    The older agent took his turn, Tell us about your work for the government and the CDC in particular during the recent Marburg virus epidemic, please.

    It took her more than half an hour to go through the long story. She was as succinct as possible but took pains to include necessary details from beginning to end. She told the two men about becoming the senior medical consultant for Wolf News Channel and being thrust into a high-profile effort to find and capture Jean-Pierre Alain Pourciau, a senior officer of the Fabrique Pharmaceutique DRC in the Congo. The man was a human-trafficker, an enslaver of young pygmy girls—most of whom were forced into sexual servitude. What he did that attracted the attention of U.S. intelligence services, the FBI, the CDC, Wolf News, and the president, she told him, was to act in concert with al Qaeda to produce and to weaponize strains of the extraordinarily virulent Marburg virus which caused a nearly always fatal hemorrhagic fever illness. She carefully spoke of her role in tracking down and capturing Pourciau, but only after he had started a major epidemic in the United States that also spread abroad.

    I understand that you ended up adopting one of the unfortunate little girls from the Congo, is that right?

    That’s true.

    Tell us about your murder case. Please do not spare the details, the tired older man asked.

    She knew the question was coming, but she had to take a deep breath to dredge the painful era in her life back up again.

    I received my tenth ‘intent-to-sue letter from my old nemesis, attorney Paul Devon Bel Gedde, around Christmas time about two years ago. That attorney and I had words at a fund-raiser in LA, and I got angry and said some things I now wish I could take back. A few days later, Mr. Bel Geddes was murdered—shot in the back of the head with a shotgun—during a robbery in his home in Bel Aire. Because of our long and unfriendly history, I became a suspect in that murder. I was finally indicted and brought to trial on first degree murder and grand larceny charges.

    I understand that your trial was one of the most sensational in the history of Los Angeles which has certainly seen more than its share of attention grabbing trial events. Tell us about the trial.

    Sybil took her time and gave a remarkably detailed rendition of the trial demonstrating her firm grasp of legal and medical issues, trial proceedings, and the circumstances surrounding her being found not guilty and being given a full positive treatment by the judge, the jury, and the news media.

    You made some friends in law enforcement during the trial, Dr. Norcroft. Isn’t that so?

    I did, she said and went on to tell about her involvement with Detective Lieutenant Anson Burger, his partner, Griselda Müller, better known as Grizzly, a pair of private investigators, Drew Knox and Amber Littlefeather, and FBI Special Agent Grant Walsh.

    She described them as being remarkably determined and able investigators who

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