Protect the Leader

The Breaking of Trust

It did not take long for everyone to recognize the glaring incompetence of Ed Marelius, the CIA Chief of Station in Stockholm, Sweden in the 1960s. Within a short amount of time employees also noticed that his wife, Mary, though pleasant and intelligent, was an obvious alcoholic. Fortunately for James Everett, he was under deep cover with a colleague named Jack Kindschi. Since they operated outside the usual chain of command of the local CIA field office in Stockholm, they were spared much of Marelius’ absurd attempts at leadership.

With two deep-cover officers now working out of the station and an increase in intelligence activity, Marelius proposed that they hire a secretary who would be aware of their Agency affiliation. Everett and Kindschi agreed there might be some benefits, though they saw no pressing need; they were managing their overt and covert operations effectively without any strain. Marelius, however, had other ideas for his own purposes. Without consulting his subordinates, he made a special trip to Washington to pursue what he considered an important matter. Upon his return, he proudly announced that he had already selected and hired what he called the perfect secretary; a woman he claimed was highly skilled and would be an enormous asset.

A few weeks later, their new recruit arrived. She turned out to be a tall, shapely blonde; an American divorcee of a Scandinavian Airlines pilot, from whom she had picked up a bit of Swedish. She arrived driving a bright red Ford Thunderbird convertible, an enormous car by Swedish standards and, as far as they knew, the only one of its kind in all of Northern Europe. This, apparently, was their new “quiet and efficient” secretary. Without wanting to insult blondes generally, Everett noted she fit the stereotype to perfection: he doubted she could type a single page properly. Her only real redeeming quality was that she was pleasant to look at.

When Marelius asked for their input on her salary, they suggested what would have been a top rate for a highly competent secretary in Sweden. He ignored their advice entirely and doubled her pay. They later learned from contacts within the CIA office that Marelius had processed all the hiring paperwork in a way that made it appear as though Everett and Kindschi had initiated and recommended her appointment.

Everett had known what competence looked like in a secretary. One of his first priorities after landing in Sweden had been to hire an exceptionally capable private secretary named Maire. She was fluent in Finnish, Swedish, German, French, and English, able to read, write, and take shorthand in all five languages. Her typing and spelling were virtually perfect, so he rarely had to revise her work. Her efficiency proved invaluable to Everett’s deep-cover job working for a company engaged in international import and export operations. She served as his secretary for seven years, completely unaware of his true affiliation with the CIA until her passing in 2008.

The new buxom secretary had no housing in Stockholm, but with help from Marelius, that problem was quickly solved. He arranged to have her apartment officially designated as one of the CIA’s safehouses and even gave her the title of safehouse keeper. That maneuver allowed him to justify charging both her inflated salary and her rent to the U.S. Government.

The deep-cover employees suspected she had some kind of leverage over Marelius, but in a bureaucracy and especially when working in an immensely secret operation, Everett felt there was little that could be done. Like most in similar positions, he and his colleague kept their mouths shut. Speaking up would have done nothing but end their careers.

Everett and Kindschi used their blonde bombshell’s so-called safehouse as little as possible. Nonetheless, there came a time when Everett had to hold a highly confidential meeting with one of his foreign assets and her apartment happened to be the most convenient location. Following standard procedure, he confirmed that the apartment would be unoccupied at the appointed hour. Out of simple prudence, the secret contact and Everett spoke in low tones, not wanting to attract attention from neighbors who might wonder why two men were inside the apartment of a single woman while she was away at work.

Just as they were wrapping up the meeting and preparing to leave, the doorbell suddenly rang. Startled, they froze where they stood. For several long minutes, the bell rang and the knocking continued; a visitor seemed desperate to see the secretary. Though Everett and his contact were both seasoned professionals, they stood there in tense silence, weighing how they could possibly explain to anyone, perhaps the concierge or local police, why two strange men were inside a woman’s apartment without her being there.

Finally, the knocking stopped, and after waiting a cautious few minutes, they quietly opened the door to leave. Hanging on the outside doorknob was a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed roses, along with an envelope containing a handwritten note. Ordinarily, Everett might have ignored the note, but given the operational sensitivity of the location, he felt compelled to look. To his astonishment, the note was from one of the most prominent figures in the local Swedish Communist Party. The tone made it clear that he and their secretary were romantically involved. It was now obvious to Everett that the secretary had more love to share than their Chief alone could handle.

Recognizing the serious security implications, Everett documented the incident in a formal contact report to his handler at the Stockholm office. Later, he learned from others in the office that this portion of his report had been deleted, presumably by the Chief, before being sent to headquarters. From that day forward, Everett refused to use her apartment as a safehouse under any circumstances.

Several months later, Everett was reassigned to the United States, where he spent a year before returning to Europe. Eventually, Kindschi was transferred as well, and their cover company was shut down. Everett never learned what became of the blonde secretary. Later speaking to the CIA’s Inspector General, Everett touted his “superior” record compared to his colleagues and bosses; among the reasons he listed was that “he had never raped a secretary.”

Security

Although deep-cover officers operated apart from official CIA field stations, they still fell under the authority of the local CIA Chief, Marelius, who had administrative control over all Agency personnel in the region. Everett believed they were working under one of the most inept local CIA Chiefs imaginable.

According to Everett, no one working for the CIA in Stockholm, whether assigned under official or deep cover, could understand how this man had ever been placed in charge. One popular explanation was that he owed his position to family connections: his brother had been an accomplished Agency officer and an effective Chief in Brazil. That brother, now based at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, was said to have used his influence within the bureaucracy to secure this desirable foreign posting for him. Another rumor held that the Chief’s wife, who had once served as secretary to a powerful U.S. Senator, had pulled political strings on his behalf. Perhaps, Everett believed, Marelius’ appointment was due to a mix of both factors, but it certainly was not earned through merit or ability.

There were countless examples of Marelius’ poor tradecraft. One of the most glaring was his insistence that both official and deep-cover officers should occasionally gather at his home for “social purposes.” These gatherings seemed to be little more than an excuse for Marelius and his wife to drink and entertain. Everett and Kindschi, however, always felt uneasy about them. They knew that local security services were well aware of where the CIA Chief lived and routinely kept his residence under observation. If they ever took an interest in who was attending his social events, all they had to do was drive by, note the license plates of the cars parked nearby, and they would have a convenient list of everyone connected with the Agency.

To minimize the risk, Everett and Kindschi adopted counter-surveillance precautions. They parked several blocks away and walked the rest of the distance to his house. This was a perfectly normal behavior in European cities, where people used sidewalks far more than in the United States. The walk not only gave them a chance to blend in naturally but also to discreetly scan the area for anything suspicious before arriving.

Everett was stunned the first time he visited the home to find that Marelius had carelessly listed both of the deep-cover officer names in the family’s personal telephone directory, openly displayed right beside the phone. Worse still, his housemaid, who regularly helped with these gatherings, turned out to be the sister of a senior member of the Communist Party in another Scandinavian country. It was almost certain she was reporting whatever she overheard. They informed Marelius of this serious security risk, but he brushed it aside, claiming that competent domestic help was hard to find. In the end, they came to realize that the greatest threat to their deep-cover operations was not the KGB, the GRU, or even Swedish counterintelligence, it was their own CIA Chief.

Courage

If killing had to be carried out in their profession, Everett was comforted by the fact that it happened to be taught to new CIA recruits by a gentleman named Egbert “Bert” Courage. One of the most memorable CIA instructors during Everett’s introductory training at the Agency, Everett thought the name Courage perfectly suited the man’s character. Courage taught explosives and self-defense, including lethal hand-to-hand combat methods. Despite his imposing physique and violent experiences, having personally killed in combat, Everett found Courage to be gentle, ethical, and deeply humane. Everett thought of him as a paradox: a man capable of extreme violence when duty required it, yet guided by moral restraint and compassion.

In training sessions, Courage shared firsthand accounts of clandestine raids into Communist China, where small CIA-led teams would launch from offshore islands like Matsu or Quemoy, ambush Red Army patrols, destroy supplies, and retreat swiftly to the sea. These stories came to life during a training ambush simulation, when Everett’s unit was suddenly attacked at night during an exercise. Explosions erupted, gunfire raked their trucks, and chaos ensued. Though the ammunition was blank, the experience drove home the brutal efficiency of a well-planned ambush and how quickly unprepared men could die. “Had they been using live ammunition at least 95% of us would have been killed or seriously wounded in seconds,” Everett later recounted, “long before any of us would have had time to recover from the paralyzing shock caused by the explosions alone. I’m sure most of us would have been dead before we would have been able to even lift our own guns from our holsters or laps, let alone try to mount any type of effective defense or counter attack. It was a horrible, but a very effective demonstration. We certainly learned to appreciate what could be accomplished through a well planned and executed military ambush.” The lesson was sobering, but Everett acknowledged that it raised deeper moral questions about killing, especially in ambiguous circumstances. Trainees were taught the soldier’s creed: “Ours is not to question why, ours is to do and die.”

Everett underwent his CIA Junior Officer Training at the Farm, a former Army base in southern Virginia that served as the Agency’s primary training facility. The six-month program combined academic study, field exercises, and specialized instruction in espionage tradecraft. Trainees lived in officer-style barracks, attended long days of classes, and had access to extensive resources such as a language laboratory, a research library, and secure study materials.

Among Everett’s classmates was Philip Agee, who would later become infamous in the Agency’s history. “Most of our nights were free,” Agee later recalled of the training. “I think almost every night we went down to Baltimore Street to the strip joint.” Training was both practical and ideological, blending military discipline, corporate-style management instruction, and university-level academics. Instructors were seasoned operatives serving temporarily as lecturers, teaching everything from operational security and communications to the legal limits of CIA activity. The CIA cultivated in its recruits the belief that the Agency would always protect its own, through lifetime employment guarantees, support in crises, and even prisoner exchanges if captured. Everett’s experience included a symbolic moment of trust and privilege when, during a family emergency, he was flown home on Director Allen Dulles’ private plane, a gesture that underscored the Agency’s paternal care for its officers. For Everett, this feeling towards his employer would not last: “[A]ny attempt to direct the tremendous covert and secret power of the CIA to personal ends or biases of a particular political party becomes a travesty and a threat to the very democratic processes which has brought this country to its past and present greatness. Little did I know at my time on the Farm that these concepts would be sorely tested by later events in my career as a CIA Intelligence Officer.” He tried his best in later years “to rearrange my prejudices in order to honestly evaluate whether Bert or myself were simply brainwashed.”

Core

At the Farm, CIA trainees were required to complete a series of core courses, while others were elective, offering the freedom to explore areas of personal or professional interest. Everett recalled that, out of curiosity, he would have liked to take classes in explosives and lock-picking, although he never did. Nonetheless, all trainees were given enough exposure to these subjects to develop respect for the technical mastery involved. They acquired a basic understanding of specialized espionage trades, from identifying lock mechanisms to understanding the construction and use of explosives. Those interested could pursue advanced instruction depending on availability and career goals.

Even the rudimentary training in locks proved valuable. Officers were taught how to recognize various types of locks, a skill that could assist in planning operations. Knowing the lock type allowed CIA specialists to prepare the right tools for a surreptitious entry. Trainees witnessed impressive demonstrations by Agency lock experts, who could open even the most sophisticated locks within seconds. These feats relied on deep technical knowledge and precision tools. Students also learned simple bypass techniques, such as opening common door locks with a credit card or thin steel blade. Everett noted that while such skills could be dangerous in criminal hands, the instructors repeatedly emphasized that the CIA used them solely for legitimate intelligence purposes, a claim he recognized as morally complex, given the blurred line between legality and criminality in espionage.

Training in explosives carried an undeniable fascination. Students observed demonstrations on how explosives could be disguised, transported, attached to a target, and detonated. Everett’s curiosity stemmed partly from childhood memories of watching his stepfather use dynamite to clear stumps on their farm, a time when buying explosives at a local store was still possible.

The Farm had its own airstrip, where trainees and instructors flew both military and private aircraft. When a windstorm overturned an instructor’s Piper Cub, damaging it beyond repair, Everett noted the irony that the owner could not claim insurance because the airfield’s covert status made it “unauthorized.” A parachute tower, a relic from World War II, provided another form of instruction. While a few trainees volunteered for actual jumps, most, like Everett, settled for the safer experience of sliding down a training cable. Their instructor claimed the tower was scarier than a real jump, a statement Everett regarded with skepticism.

One of the most memorable demonstrations involved a bungee-assisted aerial extraction system, decades before recreational bungee jumping existed. Designed for emergency rescues behind enemy lines, it used a pair of poles and a tensioned cord to yank a person skyward into a low-flying plane. The demonstration used a sack of potatoes as the “rescuee,” which Everett found both amusing and unconvincing, vowing he would only rely on it in a last-ditch emergency. He was relieved to learn the method was intended for evacuating foreign assets, not CIA officers.

The Farm’s location along the James River also facilitated amphibious training. Because the restricted area prohibited commercial fishing, the river teemed with oysters, an unexpected luxury for many recruits. While Everett himself disliked them, his classmates eagerly gathered and devoured them at informal gatherings. The river doubled as a practice ground for covert infiltration exercises, in which trainees used soundproofed inflatable boats to elude a “police” patrol (actually their instructors) in a nighttime simulation. Equipped with 25-horsepower outboard motors modified for near silence, Everett’s team successfully navigated the dark waters, sometimes hiding just feet from the searchlights of the patrol boat. The exercise proved both thrilling and a testament to the sophistication of CIA field technology.

Training also included obstacle and border-penetration courses, complete with shooting ranges, mock barbed wire fences, and simulated anti-personnel mines (represented by loud “cherry bombs”). Recruits practiced methods of crawling under or cutting through concertina wire with minimal injury. One particularly harrowing night mission replicated the East German border, complete with watchtowers, searchlights, and guard dogs. Teams of two were tasked with crossing without being caught. Everett and his partner found a narrow culvert beneath the fence and painstakingly inched their way through the cold, rising water, only to find the far end blocked by barbed wire. After cutting their way out and narrowly avoiding detection by guards and dogs above, they nearly drowned on their return when the culvert flooded, barely escaping before the tunnel filled completely. Exhausted but triumphant, they rejoined their classmates, having succeeded where many others failed. “We became thoroughly convinced,” Everett recounted, “through both classroom and hands-on exercises that the CIA had the ability to fulfill any anticipated, or non-anticipated, need our government might lay upon it.”

Trainees were exposed to a wide range of firearms, including submachine guns from several countries, and learned safe handling techniques. Although Everett opposed the public availability of such weapons, he admitted to feeling exhilarated by the experience. As he put it, “I stepped up, aimed, pulled the trigger and fired off several bursts.” When he figured the magazine was empty, he “casually lowered the gun and turned around to step back” toward the others, only to be abruptly corrected. The instructor shouted, grabbed him firmly, and spun him back toward the range, scolding him for failing to place the weapon down properly after firing. Even if he believed the gun was empty, there could still have been a round in the chamber, the instructor warned, and mishandling it could lead to a serious accident. “Anyway, it was great fun,” Everett concluded.

Everett learned about unconventional and disguised weapons, some used by the Soviet KGB, including an infamous umbrella gun capable of injecting a lethal poison pellet. Defectors shared insights about Soviet training and assassination techniques. The CIA trainers explained to Everett that assassination required presidential approval and was used only in extraordinary circumstances. He remained unaware for his entire career the extent to which the CIA employed this method through the use of agents across the globe.

Ivan

On the Soviet border with Finland, a stowaway was captured seeking freedom to the West. He was violently dragged out and, to the horror of the other passengers, brutally beaten by the Soviet guards. When he begged for mercy, they responded with more kicks and blows until he was left bloodied and barely conscious. The terrified tourists could do nothing but scream and cry as they watched the assault. Eventually, the man’s battered body was hauled away.

The man was known to Everett, who named him “Ivan,” as a tour guide. As was typical at that time, all foreign travel in the Soviet Union was strictly overseen by this official state travel agency. Intourist guides were usually well trained, knowledgeable about local attractions, and fluent in multiple languages. Both a student and guide at the time, Ivan was a slim young man in his late teens or early twenties, with light brown hair. His specific assignment was to accompany tourists from that neighboring country, which required him to read, write, and speak Russian, both of their national languages, and English. For several summers he guided groups from that nation and quickly gained a stellar reputation for his attentive service and skill as a tour leader. The glowing reviews from returning travelers led tourism officials to frequently request that Intourist assign Ivan to their groups, knowing that he ensured satisfied clients.

In the summer of 1957, Ivan was assigned to another friendly group of tourists from that country. By this time, he had developed close friendships with several of them and confided his deep unhappiness with life in the Soviet Union, expressing his yearning to escape to the West. Those tourists knew from experience that Soviet border guards routinely conducted meticulous passport inspections for all foreigners crossing back into their country by bus. However, recent reports in the press suggested that relations between East and West were beginning to warm, particularly toward tourists from their nation. Instead of requiring every passenger to individually present their passport and answer questions, the guards had relaxed their procedures. Now, they simply had the driver collect the passengers’ passports and hand them over. The guards would count them, glance through them briefly, stamp them, and return them to the driver before allowing the bus to continue toward the capital city.

With this in mind, Ivan and his friends decided to take what seemed a small risk to help him defect. Ivan would quietly remain on the bus, laying on the floor in the back row, concealed under their legs. Even if the guards entered the bus, which they rarely did, they tended to stay near the front to count heads and would not notice him. Once across the border and safely back in the capital, Ivan planned to surrender to authorities and request political asylum.

Believing that his many friends in their country could vouch for him and that the Soviet Union was striving for improved international relations, Ivan and his companions assumed he would not be forced back. They imagined that, once over the border, he could easily start a new life in freedom. When the bus reached the Soviet border, things initially appeared routine, but this time, the guards not only boarded the bus, they carried out a meticulous search. Naturally, Ivan was discovered. The shaken group witnessing his beating at the hands of the Soviets was forced to remain on the bus as the guards berated them for aiding an attempted illegal escape. They were told that, under Soviet law, the guards had the authority to detain the entire group indefinitely. After seeing that the tourists were remorseful, the guards relented and allowed the bus to leave. The traumatized passengers continued on to Helsinki.

Upon arrival, they recounted the shocking story in detail to the press. Newspapers covered it, sparking brief public outrage, but since nothing could be done, the story soon faded. Ivan was taken to Moscow, tried, and sentenced to a northern labor camp. His case was later confirmed in a short article in a Moscow newspaper. About a year later, Ivan again risked everything, this time succeeding in escaping on foot across the border. Once safely on the other side, he approached a farmhouse, surrendered to local authorities, and was brought to the capital city, where he gave an extraordinary account of his ordeal. He reiterated his affection for that country and the West, confirming the severe injuries he had sustained during his earlier beating, details corroborated by press coverage and eyewitness testimony. Ivan recounted his trial in Moscow, his sentence, and his time doing forced labor in the north. Eventually, driven by despair, he decided to attempt another escape, preferring death to continued imprisonment.

Although Moscow lodged brief objections, the issue soon faded. Ivan received a stipend from the government of Finland to attend university and took summer jobs guiding tourists on Baltic cruise ships visiting recently annexed Soviet republics. During this period, he fell in love with a fellow student, the daughter of one of his professors. Life seemed to be improving.

Ivan’s conscience, however, began to torment him. After much inner struggle, he confided to his partner a shocking truth: “I am not a genuine political refugee as I had you all believing. I am really a professional Soviet spy from the dreaded KGB!” Advised by her and her father, Ivan went to the police and confessed everything. He explained that he had been recruited by the KGB to become an “illegal.” His training had been extensive, focusing heavily on foreign languages, especially English and those spoken in his host country. “Part-time employment was arranged with Intourist by the KGB to give me experience working with foreigners and a practical opportunity to improve my language skills,” he told them.

Ivan described how his “first defection” had been carefully staged. The supposed beating by border guards had been orchestrated with specially trained KGB officers, practiced in advance to make the attack look authentic. “The KGB,” he said, “knew that a visually powerful event, such as the beating, would undoubtedly be reported in the West. They therefore staged the first defection attempt so that it would become a part of my bona fides to support my personal credibility when the time would come for me to stage the second and hopefully fully credible ‘successful’ defection.” He said that he had even been tried and sentenced in a real Moscow courtroom, but instead of prison, he had been sent to a secret KGB training facility similar to the CIA’s Farm. After completing advanced espionage training, he was taken to the border and directed where to cross safely, avoiding land mines.

This revelation created a major dilemma for the authorities in Finland. It was one thing to shelter a persecuted defector, but quite another to harbor an admitted spy who had entered under false pretenses. Returning him to the USSR might mean his death, but keeping him posed grave security risks. Recognizing the complexity, the Finnish government quietly informed the CIA. Only the CIA, they reasoned, had the means to verify his claims and possibly use him as a double agent. If Ivan’s story was false, he could be a KGB mole. If true, he might be turned into a double agent within the KGB itself.

To resolve this, Ivan was secretly transported to another country for in-depth questioning. Everett was part of the CIA team assigned to interrogate him. He was sent “black,” meaning it was done without any official record; no immigration or border agency knew he had moved, allowing total deniability for all parties involved.

The CIA had little time; if his disappearance became known to friends or, worse, the KGB, the opportunity would be lost. Their mission was to determine if Ivan’s conversion was real and whether he could be of use. If he was lying, he would be sent back for extradition. To maintain secrecy, Everett’s team used CIA-controlled safehouses, rotating locations daily and using rented vans with covered windows, driving circuitous routes, ensuring that Ivan could not identify where he was.

For long hours each day, the CIA team questioned him, verifying every fact through Agency files and records. Everett was assigned the “good cop” role. Ivan’s story was remarkably consistent; he appeared sincere and volunteered many names, details, and procedures of KGB operations. He described his communications with his case officer in detail and said that after being praised for his integration into Western society, he was finally told he was to begin active operations, an order that prompted his confession. Despite extensive review, the team failed to agree on whether he was being truthful. A Russian-speaking CIA officer and a polygraph expert were brought in to test him in both English and Russian. The lie detector results pointed toward honesty, though the Russian-speaking officer remained doubtful. Personally, Everett found Ivan to be intelligent, open, and likable. He wanted to believe him and feared that sending him back might condemn him to death.

Eventually, they discovered one inconsistency: CIA records confirmed all his alleged meetings with his KGB handler except one. He repeatedly skipped over that particular date during questioning. This omission led them to conclude that he was still loyal to the KGB. They arranged for his return to Finland and recommended that he be expelled as a hostile agent, which they did. For years afterward, Everett questioned whether they had done the right thing. Later evidence suggested they had: Ivan had been secretly corresponding with a wife and children he had left behind in the Soviet Union, proof that his relationship in his adopted country had been a cover. Everett never heard of him again and often wondered how his girlfriend reacted when she learned she had been deceived by such a skilled operative and what drove people like Ivan to dedicate their lives to such elaborate deceptions.

Years later, during a visit to Moscow, Everett discussed the case with a senior former KGB officer. He agreed that it bore all the marks of a sophisticated operation, though he was not personally aware of it, having served mainly in the Far East. He added that if Ivan had truly betrayed the KGB, his execution would have been made public as a warning to others.

Defector

“I am a Chinese diplomat,” the man in the U.S. Embassy in Stockholm said, “and I wish to talk to the Chief of the CIA about my interest to defect.” From time to time, the CIA would receive word through the American Embassy from individuals claiming they had information about, or originating from, the Soviet Union that might interest the U.S. Government, or offering their services outright. Some of these messages came from legitimate sources; others were from unstable individuals, and a few were likely Soviet attempts to expose CIA operatives or disrupt ongoing activities. Such situations rarely involved agents operating under deep cover, but occasionally they did; especially in a city like Stockholm. Though it was a capital, Sweden’s small size meant the number of CIA officers working under official cover was limited. In those circumstances, Everett was sometimes called upon for surveillance or other forms of support, as his deep-cover role provided both flexibility and discretion without compromising his identity.

Perhaps the most significant episode at the Stockholm Embassy during that period was the highly unusual voluntary defection of a Chinese intelligence officer. Although China was a global power, its political, military, and economic reach had long lagged behind its size and population, a situation that was beginning to shift rapidly. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Chinese were intensely secretive and tended to isolate themselves from other diplomatic communities. The families of Chinese diplomats did not take part in international schools or social circles, living instead in secluded, tightly controlled compounds. This secrecy stemmed partly from official policy, and partly from cultural, linguistic, and financial barriers. At that time, Mao Zedong remained a staunch adversary of the West, viewed with particular hostility by the United States, which supported Chiang Kai-shek and Nationalist China in Taiwan. As the world’s second most influential Communist power, any intelligence about China was of high value to Washington. Up to that point, only one Chinese defections had been exceedingly rare.

The case began when a Chinese man walked into the U.S. Embassy in Stockholm and told the receptionist, who happened to be a temporary substitute that day, of his desire to defect. The stand-in receptionist, unable to find a listing for “Chief” or “CIA” in the directory, informed him that no such person worked there. He thanked her politely and left. When the incident reached CIA personnel, there was immediate alarm and regret. Knowing how much danger a Chinese official risked simply by approaching an American building, it seemed unlikely the man would ever return; a valuable chance had likely been lost. The Embassy quickly briefed every receptionist on how to respond should he reappear. Remarkably, about a week later, he did and this time he was escorted straight to a CIA officer.

The man was visibly under intense strain and pleaded to be placed under protection immediately. However, in keeping with CIA procedure, he was asked to demonstrate his commitment by returning to the Chinese Embassy and “working in place” as an informant. Despite obvious fear and hesitation, he agreed, received instructions for secure contact, and was sent back before his absence could draw suspicion. For a time, he successfully served as a CIA asset within the Chinese Embassy.

Eventually, tensions arose between him and the Chinese Ambassador as well as other staff members. The conflict appeared rooted less in doubts about his ideological loyalty and more in a buildup of personal and professional grievances. These disputes escalated until he felt physically threatened during a confrontation. In panic, he drew a pistol to ward off what he believed was an imminent attack, leapt through a ground-floor window, and fled. Somehow, he managed to reach the U.S. Embassy, seeking refuge.

The CIA arranged for him to be secretly transported out of Scandinavia and into the United States “black,” with his identity and movements completely concealed. Once he was secure, the Agency intended to release news of his defection strategically to maximize its political effect. On the very day the CIA had prepared to announce the defection, President Eisenhower and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev were meeting in Paris. During the summit, Khrushchev dramatically revealed that American U-2 pilot Gary Powers, believed to have been killed when his plane was shot down, was in fact alive and held captive in the USSR. The revelation shattered the summit and dominated headlines around the world. As a result, the much-anticipated story of the Chinese defector, once expected to be front-page news, was reduced to only a few brief paragraphs buried in the back pages of the newspapers. Two years later, the defector, Chao Fu, testified before a U.S. Senate committee; he had broken with the Communist Party, he explained, “and I will be their enemy.”

LPGLOBE

Everett and his family returned from Scandinavia to the United States in 1967 after several years abroad. Everett resumed his work under CIA cover, ostensibly as a public relations consultant for the Washington-based firm Robert R. Mullen & Company. In reality, his main duties were conducted at a CIA proprietary office supporting deep-cover intelligence officers abroad, particularly in Africa. This covert administrative network, known internally under the cryptonym LPGLOBE, functioned separately from CIA headquarters at Langley and was responsible for logistical, financial, and personal support for agents whose true identities were hidden, even from many within the Agency. LPGLOBE operated semi-independently, often drawing resentment from bureaucrats at Langley who disliked any unit outside their direct control.

Everett was frustrated by the pervasive inefficiency of CIA bureaucracy, where excessive time was spent editing minor wording in reports. LPGLOBE’s mission was to ensure that operational assignments matched an agent’s cover and did not compromise their long-term safety or effectiveness. The organization also aimed to rotate officers between field and headquarters roles to maintain empathy and understanding of the deep-cover experience, a lifestyle Everett compared to “driving a race car at the Indianapolis 500” versus a bureaucrat’s “family sedan.”

There were operational and personal challenges faced by deep cover officers and their families, including loneliness, cultural isolation, and the stress of living double lives. LPGLOBE case officers like Everett conducted field visits to review agents’ administrative, financial, and emotional well-being. These trips, while dangerous, were also exhilarating opportunities to practice advanced tradecraft and travel globally.

In one such four-week African field mission, Everett met agents in multiple countries while maintaining a credible business cover. He used a secret writing technique with a disguised aerosol spray, accidentally staining a hotel bathtub in the process: “The chemical stain refused to wash off with water…If I couldn’t get the stain out, how could I explain to the hotel owners or cleaning crew how it got there? I could not rationally envision how I could dismantle the plumbing and get rid of the whole tub without causing even more of a problem. Fortunately, the stain finally succumbed to an excessive, and I do mean excessive, amount of scrubbing. I think I probably wore off at least the top layer of the permanent porcelain before the stain finally disappeared to my satisfaction.”

Meetings occurred in settings ranging from wildlife reserves to luxury hotels, highlighting the strange duality of espionage life. A tense episode Everett experienced in Lagos, Nigeria, where soldiers with submachine guns detained passengers, underscored the risks of traveling with classified materials. Everett was left to wait and ponder what would happen if authorities discovered his documents hidden within a concealment device in his briefcase. “Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, we were hustled, without any explanation, back on board and allowed to continue our flight northward.” Compared to this threat, Everett seemed more upset with the assistant to LPGLOBE’s Chief, “a complete dolt” in his estimation when it came to the tradecraft of espionage. Despite his lack of field competence, the man had leveraged his senior rank to secure the next administrative support mission to deep-cover officers in Africa. Upon arriving in Lagos, however, all of his luggage vanished. Ignoring both agency protocol and basic common sense, he had packed all of his notes, secret writing materials, and classified items in those bags. Naturally, he was distraught, but there was nothing he could do except behave like any other traveler whose belongings had gone missing. When told to return the next day, he did so, only to find his luggage still missing. On the following day, however, his bags mysteriously reappeared in the baggage claim area without any explanation.

This mishap occurred right at the beginning of his inspection tour of LPGLOBE’s deep-cover personnel. The most plausible theory was that the Nigerian security services had spent those two days carefully inspecting his possessions. Yet, nothing appeared to have been taken, and no visible signs suggested tampering. When he eventually returned to headquarters, the assistant to the Chief filed a report on the incident. Had such a breach been committed by a lower-ranking officer, there would have been immediate disciplinary action, both verbal and written. But since this individual held a senior supervisory post, his peers quickly worked to downplay the seriousness of the event, especially in how it was officially presented to the counterintelligence division at Langley.

During the same trip, the Chief’s assistant made several other operational blunders, though none as egregious as allowing sensitive materials to be out of his control for such a long period of time. Those in the lower ranks such as Everett quietly enjoyed seeing his incompetence exposed, confident that he would never again be trusted with an LPGLOBE field mission. The true takeaway for Everett from this episode was not the ineptitude, but rather the fact that the higher one sits in the bureaucratic hierarchy, the greater the effort made to shield them from accountability. Conversely, the lower one’s rank, the harsher the consequences.

Terminate with Prejudice

In early 1973, Everett was summoned to Washington, D.C. He thought that the subject of discussion would be the Watergate break-in, a topic that would eventually consume his career, but the matter at hand turned out to still have serious consequences for his Mullen & Company cover. When Everett arrived in the capital, he went to a safehouse, which was an office suite whose address had been provided by his CIA handlers. There, he met with his former colleague from Stockholm, Jack Kindschi, along with Marty Lukowsky from the Central Cover Division and two other CIA officials. He had no idea what the meeting was about, but the serious and urgent tone among the participants suggested it was important. After some brief small talk, they passed him a photograph and asked, “Can you identify this man?” It turned out they were looking into killing one of their own.