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Some time after my first novel (Saving the Queen) was published, I had a handwritten note from Richard Helms. He had read the book, he said, and enjoyed it. I replied and, subsequently, we had one or two visits at lunch.
I was especially pleased inasmuch as he had been Director of Central Intelligence and would have been put off by any spytime solecisms he'd bumped into. And he might have found a number of these, inasmuch as my protagonist, Blackford Oakes, was inducted into the CIA as an undergraduate, trained, and deployed in Great Britain where -- as one might put it, in a trade in which one divulges nothing more than necessary -- Oakes took on more than the CIA gave him to chew.
But what obviously caught the Director's eye was the predicament my protagonist was caught up in: He was asked to testify before a congressional committee about activity he had engaged in, and declined to answer questions.
The Senate committee asked Helms, in 1973, to disclose what he knew about the derailment of the Salvador Allende regime in Chile. Helms dissimulated. He had already left the CIA, Richard Nixon having replaced him when Helms refused to block the FBI's inquiry into Watergate. Nixon sent him off as ambassador to Iran, which was a shelter of sorts, but in 1976 he came home to Washington to face the music, pleading no contest to charges that he had lied to a congressional committee. He tried to explain his problem to the judge, as Blackford Oakes had tried to explain his silence to his own senatorial inquisitors. "I found myself," Helms told the court, "in a position of conflict. I had sworn my oath to protect certain secrets. I didn't want to lie, I didn't want to mislead the Senate. I was simply trying to find my way through a very difficult situation in which I found myself."
The ...