in Serbias restless Kosovo province staring at the floor of a hangar
housing a factory that manufactured untraceable parts for automatic
There were machines and workers. When we asked
who the weapons were for, Cormac told us, You guys
have a need to know. Then William asked what he was there to do.
Im used to fiction workshops, so tell me how many pages,
how many copies, and give me a deadline, he said, and this was
a joke, but Cormac didnt get it.
Across the hangar, the C-123 was being unloaded. From out of the strange
crates came stacks of money and bags of an unidentified white substance.
Cormac said, The Agency recruited you because of your
manufacturing expertise. Our men in the field have been having trouble
with weapons jamming when they get hot after being on automatic for awhile.
We looked at each other. But were writers, we said,
we dont know anything about manufacturing.
Cormac suddenly went pale and nervous. Youre what?
The project was aborted and we were back in D.C. in time for dinner with
the Clintons that evening. Chelsea had flown in
from Stanford just to meet us.
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