By Bill Rapp

One might assume that an author who spent most of his adult life working for the Central Intelligence Agency would have an easy time writing espionage fiction. Well, not quite. 

True, there is a wealth of experience and insight to draw on. Yet there are also many hurdles to overcome: deciding just how far to go in revealing how an intelligence officer operates in the real world, how to do so without incurring the wrath of their former employer for exposing current sources and methods (a mantra in the halls at Langley), jeopardizing living officers and assets, or betraying the trust of the policymakers who relied on the reporting and analysis from the Intelligence Community.  

But the first hurdle is getting over the silly tropes some writers throw into their stories, ones that leave many Langley veterans cringing.

Those Damn Cellphones

I cannot count the number of times I have shaken my head over the prolific use of personal cell phones to discuss operational and private matters. In the real world, that would be a gift to adversaries’ intelligence services. 

Once, during a warzone tour, a group of us were watching a popular spy film when the chief of operations blurted out, “Geez, the more you watch this film, the more egregiously stupid it becomes.” I believe it was the prevalent use of those damn cellphones that set him off, although other incidents had us all shaking our heads.  

I also remember a TV series where the chief of station (COS) in London took a call on her cell during a discussion in the SCIF (the secure meeting room designed to block any conversation from leaking). What’s the point of having a secure facility? 

In another popular television series, people are constantly walking around the offices and corridors of the CIA jabbering away on their phones. We were never allowed to bring our phones into the building. And when you left yours in the car, you had to be sure it was turned off.

Guns, Guns, and more Guns…

Contrary to popular belief, Agency officers do not run around the world armed with the latest in semi-automatic firepower. You probably have a weapon issued to you when serving in a warzone—if you pass the weeks-long qualifications training. Generally, the possession and use of any weapon is strictly limited. After all, protecting your cover is difficult when you’re engaged in gunfights, which are bound to advertise your presence and bring the police running. They won’t care that you’re a CIA superspy. You’ll probably be on the next plane home. Plus, you stand a good chance of getting shot, something that would ruin anyone’s day.  

One of the few times I actually shouted at the TV was when a CIA officer was almost handed a pistol by a CIA assassin—another wholly fictionalized career—to use against some terrorists in France. The French service, which was cooperating on that mission, would, in reality, have flipped out if they knew CIA officers were running around using adversaries for target practice. The COS would also have thrown the CIA officers out of the country for insubordination; only the chief is authorized to issue weapons in a given country.  And it almost never happens. In fact, I know of no case where it did.  

So, What Is An Author Spy To Do?

There are many other examples of overly romanticized or exaggerated cases to be found in nearly every work of spy fiction. Does this mean that those stories should not be written or read? Of course not. Writers want and need to entertain. And those readers are unlikely to find themselves fascinated by the intricacies of bureaucracy or the administrative and legal challenges a civil servant faces daily. So, what do you do?

Easy. You cheat. I have often stretched the lines of real-life intelligence work to elevate the dangers and challenges faced by the CIA hero of my Cold War series, Karl Baier, to build conflict and tension. In the real world, Mr. Baier would likely be suffering from a host of illnesses because of all the times he has been attacked and beaten. He would have had several concussions by now and probably be confined to a desk job in northern Virginia. 

Yet I feel compelled to bring a dose of authenticity and plausibility to the work an intelligence officer does. For example, I try to give the reader some sense of what it’s like to work in such a large organization as the CIA and how many different tasks someone like Karl Baier has to face in addition to the particular mission he is pursuing.  In one popular and successful television series, a major character is the European Division chief, and he spends practically the entire year in Berlin pursuing one operation. He would have gone down in history as perhaps the worst manager in Agency history.    

Then there is the matter of the personal relationships one builds with colleagues. 

Those are generally cooperative and supportive, but of course, not everyone is an angel. Even Baier gets betrayed by a co-worker now and then. But in general, Agency officers enjoy a very high espirit d’corps. 

And finally, there is the reason we do this work in the first place. One reviewer complained that one of my stories had “too much geopolitics.” I wanted to shout, “That’s why we do what we do.” Intelligence work is not some spy-versus-spy game. It protects our national security and supports and promotes US foreign policy interests. That is perhaps the biggest difference the Cold War series has with much of the spy fiction I have read. There is a very real diplomatic and strategic context that surrounds and informs the world of intelligence. 

And that is in the back of Karl Baier’s mind every single day.