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Spy Family
20 September 2007 00:14I remember back in 1976, I thought it would be hilarious to make an entire family of spies that had no idea that they were on the same team.
We had a man in our downtown offices that had a wife and two kids. One boy and one girl. The boy was 15. The girl was a year older. They were starting to feel the constraints of living under their parent's roof while the wife was starting to become disillusioned with living the life of a copy editor’s partner.
That was his cover story, of course. A boring, pedantic job with deadlines that had him work late sometimes and attend conferences in other countries.
I started Operation Fourplay in August of that year.
For the son, I staged a botched robbery in his local grocery store, leaving him as the only living witness. We interrupted the interview that the cops were giving him later down at the station. We told him that his memory of the incident was more than we’d expected from someone his age and that we were part of a team on the lookout for young talent.
He sat there, huddled in a blanket, other people’s blood still on his shaking hands wrapped around crappy station coffee. He jumped at the chance. Our psych makeup was right on the money. He wanted a chance to avenge the deaths he had seen. He wanted to be on the side of good.
For the daughter, we set up the overdose of one of her best friends. Her friend was already dabbling anyway and it was no problem to slip her a hot dose and disappear the dealer. This death tore her apart inside. She wore black for weeks. Suited her.
We had one of our young handsome agents pose as a cop and pull her over after a party. They started a relationship. After a few months, he mentioned that some FBI guys were looking for some help to bust dealers. She said yes almost immediately.
For the wife, we really turned it up. I did it myself. I ran into her on the street, bloody and sweating, and handed her a leather satchel. I told her that I was being chased and that the information in the satchel was vital to national security and to just keep walking. I’d contact her. We had a marksman shoot the person next to her and two men in suits bustle up the street towards me. I ran and they ran past her.
For a week, we watched her watch the leather satchel. I contacted her and thanked her for showing such calmness under pressure. I was pretty smooth if I do say so myself. We slept together for a few weeks before I faked my own death.
The organization got in contact with her and told her that she’d been named as my successor in my will and that her training should start immediately.
All the while, we swore them to secrecy. The family hardly talked to each other anyway. They were so happy. They were solving the world’s ills and they had no idea that every single member of their family was a covert operative.
I loved it. We’re still doing it. The husband and wife are advisors to us now and the boy and the girl are two of the best operatives we have. There have been a couple of close calls but every single one of them still believes that they’re the only spy in the family.
I’ve been smiling about that for thirty years. Simple pleasures and all that. You have to make your own fun in this job.
tags
We had a man in our downtown offices that had a wife and two kids. One boy and one girl. The boy was 15. The girl was a year older. They were starting to feel the constraints of living under their parent's roof while the wife was starting to become disillusioned with living the life of a copy editor’s partner.
That was his cover story, of course. A boring, pedantic job with deadlines that had him work late sometimes and attend conferences in other countries.
I started Operation Fourplay in August of that year.
For the son, I staged a botched robbery in his local grocery store, leaving him as the only living witness. We interrupted the interview that the cops were giving him later down at the station. We told him that his memory of the incident was more than we’d expected from someone his age and that we were part of a team on the lookout for young talent.
He sat there, huddled in a blanket, other people’s blood still on his shaking hands wrapped around crappy station coffee. He jumped at the chance. Our psych makeup was right on the money. He wanted a chance to avenge the deaths he had seen. He wanted to be on the side of good.
For the daughter, we set up the overdose of one of her best friends. Her friend was already dabbling anyway and it was no problem to slip her a hot dose and disappear the dealer. This death tore her apart inside. She wore black for weeks. Suited her.
We had one of our young handsome agents pose as a cop and pull her over after a party. They started a relationship. After a few months, he mentioned that some FBI guys were looking for some help to bust dealers. She said yes almost immediately.
For the wife, we really turned it up. I did it myself. I ran into her on the street, bloody and sweating, and handed her a leather satchel. I told her that I was being chased and that the information in the satchel was vital to national security and to just keep walking. I’d contact her. We had a marksman shoot the person next to her and two men in suits bustle up the street towards me. I ran and they ran past her.
For a week, we watched her watch the leather satchel. I contacted her and thanked her for showing such calmness under pressure. I was pretty smooth if I do say so myself. We slept together for a few weeks before I faked my own death.
The organization got in contact with her and told her that she’d been named as my successor in my will and that her training should start immediately.
All the while, we swore them to secrecy. The family hardly talked to each other anyway. They were so happy. They were solving the world’s ills and they had no idea that every single member of their family was a covert operative.
I loved it. We’re still doing it. The husband and wife are advisors to us now and the boy and the girl are two of the best operatives we have. There have been a couple of close calls but every single one of them still believes that they’re the only spy in the family.
I’ve been smiling about that for thirty years. Simple pleasures and all that. You have to make your own fun in this job.
tags