"I make my way to the hotel's front entrance and into the lobby. Behind the reception desk a beleaguered woman is picking up the phone every five seconds to say "It was a false alarm... it was a false alarm... it was a false alarm." Beside me stands a man in a camel-hair overcoat and red baseball cap. He is chewing the stub of a stogie. He is familiar but the name escapes me, so I ask.
"George Tenet," he says." ....
"Ted Gup," I say, extending a hand. He smiles. He knows my work--the last chapter of the book I wrote on CIA operatives killed in service was deleted because of Tenet's appeal on national security grounds."click through to read this story, it's an
unusual take on things...