Life Blood ---XVII---Page No--54

Alan Dupre didn't ring till almost ten-thirty the next morning,
and I had the feeling even that was a stretch. He then offered to
meet us in the Parque Concordia, right downtown. As I watched
him ambling toward our bench, my first impression was: Why'd we
bother?

The man appeared to be in his early forties, puffy-eyed and
pink-cheeked with discount aviator shades, looking like a glad-
handing tourist just down to Central America for a weekend of
unchaperoned bacchanals. The flowered sport shirt, worn outside
the belt, gave him the aura of a tout insufficiently attired without a
can of Coors in hand.

How can this be progress? I'm down here hoping to find
Sarah, and I end up in a trash-filled park meeting some expat
operator.

Steve had explained that the main benefit of Alan Dupre's CIA
gig was that he did learn how to fly a helicopter. With that skill
he'd ended up starting a tourist agency in Guatemala City using
an old Bell he leased: "Mayan Pyramids from the Air." Mainly,
though, he was a self-styled bon vivant who knew people.
        "Steve the brave." On came Dupre's mirthless smile as he
approached a jaunty spring entering his step.
        "Alan, any friend of yours has got to be brave." Steve just
stared at him.

Dupre had the kind of empty grin that looked like it'd been

rehearsed in his high school bathroom mirror. It was thin, kind of
forked and dangerous, and this morning its plaster quality
undermined any attempts at honesty. Maybe dealing with
complaining tourists every day of your life did that to you.
        "You called, I came." He was now shifting from foot to foot.
"Guess it finally had to happen. What's the phrase? You can run
but you can't hide? Surprise us both and pretend you're happy to
see me."

Steve looked like he was not entirely prepared for this

moment. He used the awkward pause that followed to introduce
me. Dupre shook hands like he was fearful of germs, then turned
back.

"Jesus, man, I'm still working on the money, honest to God. But do I get a last cigarette before the firing squad?"
        "Hey, Alan, ease up." Steve was deadpan. "Good to see you
again. I mean it. Love that Waikiki shirt, by the way. Never knew you had such progressive taste."

"This is actually my incognito attire. For secret missions. It's my objective today to look like some cruise-ship jerk." He glanced around nervously. "So how'm I doing?"

"I'd say your years of training in undercover work have paid

off."

I listened, remembering Steve had explained that Alan

Dupre's career as a CIA information-gatherer was hampered by his propensity to drink too much tequila and then brag about his occupation, hoping to impress whatever woman he had in his sights at the moment.

"So bring me up to date." Steve was trying to hide his total
contempt. "Why'd you get out of the spook business? Langley
couldn't find a 'new mission' for you after the Evil Empire
dissolved?"

Dupre's face turned pensive. "Man, you don't get it, do you?
Langley's still got plenty on its mind. Nothing has changed. Most
people don't realize the U.S. isn't run by the folks they vote for.
There's a permanent government that doesn't appear on Larry
King, and I was part of it. The Central Intelligence Agency of the

U.S. of A. will go on doing exactly what it's always done, guiding
events in Third World toilets like this through whatever means are
necessary to protect America's strategic concerns. Keeping the
world safe for Microsoft and Ronald McDonald." He paused and
glanced at me, as though slightly embarrassed. Then he
continued. "What I'm saying is, all those Beltway turkeys with the
briar pipes and gigabyte computers, sitting around wringing their
hands, worried the Company needs a new mission, never really
grasped its old mission."

"You're right," Steve said going along with the shtick, the

applause lines Dupre had doubtless used in a thousand bars. "I'm
getting slow. What Langley needs nowadays is a new cover
story."

"Couldn't have phrased it better." Dupre smiled again too easily. "They're—"

"Actually," Steve said cutting him off impatiently, all the while
gazing up at the gathering dark clouds as though they were a
hovering adversary, "the truth of the matter is, we called you to