ABSTRACT
The next morning, Rudy Garcia, the man who had called himself “Jones,” raced up the steps under the concrete awning that spread itself eagle-like in front of the massive main building at CIA Headquarters. Once inside, he headed toward the steps at the opposite end of the immense marbled lobby where armed guards were checking the IDs of employees and routing visitors to an adjoining waiting room so that they could be escorted into the building.
