Between 1977 and 1980 he continued in the CIA/NSA liaison, but this time he was based in the US Embassy in Moscow. By then, however, the KGB had amassed a large and disturbing file on Rawls, and it was decided that an agent of such alarming efficiency could be tolerated no longer. In September 1980 Rawls was expelled from Moscow, and he returned to CIA headquarters at Langley, Virginia.
Rawls had now become something of an embarrassment to his masters. Clearly he was one of their top field operatives, but his usefulness at home was another matter. He could no longer be placed in embassies abroad without exciting comment, and he was becoming too old for the kind of spectacular clandestine work in which he had once excelled.
He was therefore put into the tender care of Milton K. Nagel, the head of Anglo-US Intelligence Liaison. Nagelâs official brief was to ensure the free flow of intelligence between the CIA, the NSA, MI5 and MI6. Unofficially, his job was simply to extract the intelligence that the UK preferred to hide from the US. To do this, Nagel exploited every goodwill mission made by American officials to Britain, and he tapped every British phone call that the NSA could unscramble.
Rawls did not like his boss. Nagel was a loud-mouthed slob who ate hamburgers instead of taking baths. Unlike Rawls, he had a coarse, resonant sense of humour, and he was entirely open about his contempt for âsmart-assed prima donnasâ, of whom Rawls was one. He was short, fat and sweaty, and he disliked Rawlsâ penchant for vigorous efficiency.
âGood morning,â he said, as Rawls closed the door. âTake a seat.â
Nagel leaned back in his swivel-chair and put his feet on the desk, knowing that this would irritate Rawls.
âGot a job for you,â he said.
Rawls nodded.
âSome two-bit hood by the name of Grünbaum got himself arrested and killed in the DDR. It seems that this boy ran a Brit-sponsored network over in Thuringia, or somewhere like that.â
âSo?â
âSo people are asking questions about it.â
âWhat people? What questions?â
âThe Brits have put some guy named Wyman onto it. For some reason theyâre worried by Grünbaumâs getting blown, and they want to know how it happened. Christ knows why theyâre so upset. This kind of thing goes on all the time, and nobody gets screwed up about it.
âFunny thing is, instead of making the routine inquiries, Wymanâs been avoiding the Firm altogether. Six days ago he got in touch with Frank Schofield in Rome.â
âWho?â
âFrank Schofield. Old-time Kansas newspaper hack. Did some work for us during the war, and after that he used to help us out from time to time. Heâs retired now, but he still knows a lot of the old crowd, so heâs still a good vehicle for discreet inquiries into the Company. Or so Wyman thinks.â
âWhat happened?â
Nagel gave a frog-like smile.
âSchofield got in touch with one or two people over here, hoping that everything would be nice and quiet. In fact, our people gave him virtually nothing, and then they told me what was happening. Wyman was taking a stupid risk asking Schofield for help. He should have known that weâd find out about it.â
âWho is this Wyman? How come he knows Schofield?â
âWyman is a typical English cocksucker. I think heâs a professor of philosophy, or something like that. Heâs pretty amateur, even by Brit standards, and thatâs saying something. Anyway, he met up with Schofield in Rome in the mid-fifties when he worked at the British Station. Theyâve been good buddies ever since.â
âOkay,â Rawls said. âSo what do I do?â
âIf Wyman is avoiding routine lines of inquiry, it means something funny is going on. If something funny is going on, I want to hear the joke. I mean, if you want to know why some op. has just got burned in