CHAPTER 4
DON’T GET ME STARTED
“A
re you a CIA agent?”
I’ve gotten that question a lot over the years. My response is always the
same: “If I am, no one told me.”
It’s the perfect cover story, if you think about it.
In fact, I was a staff CIA operations officer for exactly thirteen years.
Despite almost constant friction between myself and the CIA bureaucracy,
I loved the agency and received numerous awards during the course of my
career. For the record, I’m not usually one to toot my own horn (although
I probably would if I could). And in fairness to the humorless CIA bureau-
cracy, it’s likely this irreverent attitude that has generated much of the friction.
To this day, I can’t believe they paid me to do that job. I also can’t
imagine a more challenging and fulfilling way of life. Since resigning from
the CIA, I have continued to support the US government and military
mission, initially via a business intelligence consulting company and, since
2003, via my ongoing business operations in Iraq.
The Balkans. The Middle East. Latin America. Los Angeles.
When I first landed, infiltrated, or in some other fashion arrived at each
of these garden spots, they were at peace. All were apparently vying for the
title of World’s Most Insane Drivers, but at least they were relatively stable.
Shortly after I set foot in each of these places, though, all hell broke loose.
A conspiracy theorist friend of mine is convinced there’s a connec-
tion, that I am somehow responsible for the insurgencies, civil wars, fires,
floods, earthquakes, race riots, and ethnic cleansing that erupted after my
arrival in each of these hot spots. But as far as I’m aware, it was purely
coincidental. I can’t help it if I’m always in the right place at the right time.
(That same friend once characterized me as “the half-wit love child of
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