Collection of Assorted Newspaper and Magazine Clippings: Jfk Assassination, Conspiracy Theories, Etc

Read from the scan by GLM-OCR; expect the odd misread word.

They were to present the report to the

and they Jesus always congratulated

him when he saw that way. He

would have a cellava time finding a way

in Moscow that pointed to the N.A.G.B.

he thought

At the security check point, the guard looked into the back of the car and then waved them through. Moments later, they pulled up in front of the enormous modern building that houses the CIA's 10,000 people.

Lewis was only 42 years old, but he had already headed the CIA for ten years. Tall, athletic (the played four sets of tennis before going to work in the morning). Lewis was known by his intimates as a tough and highly intelligent man. He also had a reputation for ruthlessness. Colleagues who were themselves no bleeding hearts marveled at the cold-bloodedness with which he made decisions affecting the lives of large numbers of people and sometimes of foreign heads of state.

Although he had not arrived at the top of the CIA through the ranks (he had been a special assistant to the President before being named to his present post), he had shown an immense talent for running the agency, and the professionals had quickly gotten over their early pique at not being directed by one of their own.

Up on the eighth floor, Lewis put the briefcase on the side of his spacious walnut desk and pushed an intercom button. "Send Wolfe in here right away." Moments later, the director's door opened and a bespectacled youth strode toward his desk. He was Peter Wolfe, Lewis' special assistant, only five years out of college but with a career already securely attached to his boss's good fortunes.

Lewis did not waste time on amenities. "I want you to go to the top-secret contingency-plan room and take out the plans for Operation Red Rose," he said curtly.

"I've never heard of that one," Wolfe ventured.

"Neither has anyone else in this shop. But it's there, all right. It was drawn up in 1974, when there was all that talk about the impeachment of Nixon and some of the people down at the White House thought he had gone crazy."

"That's over twenty years ago," Wolfe said as he headed for the door. "But the papers have been going over the episode so much lately, I was beginning to think I knew it as well as our own politics."

Fifteen minutes later, he was back and in his hands were a piece of paper and a black briefcase with a combination lock. "This must really be a sensitive plan." He said as he handed the case

--priest which had come from the Chinese immigrant, unrelied upon, a bank in an African country where the Chinese were influential.

I have seen that the sheet of paper "Oh, but, you do not know," he said curly, "that you are and I may need you in a couple of hours."

When White was out of the office, I went to a safe behind his desk. Quickly, from years of habit, he checked off the numbers of the combination and opened it. There were several steel drawers inside and he stared at them for a moment before opening one marked a. In it, he found a slip of paper with a set of numbers, worked the combination on the briefcase with them and pulled out a large folder. He then sank down into the chair behind his desk and started reading:

The attached is a plan for the assassination of the President of the United States. While it is doubtful that such a plan will ever have to be put into effect, it has been felt necessary to draw up a detailed operation that could quickly be put into effect should the need arise. It consists of two sections—the Plan and the Alternate Plan-plus a scaled envelope containing the names of persons who have been trained to carry it out.

## Lewis turned the page.

Several miles away, President Roscoe Tanner snapped off the television set in the Oval Office of the White House. The House Judiciary Committee had Just voted 20 to 18 to recommend his impeachment to the full House of Representatives.

Twenty years earlier, Tanner had been one of the members of the Judiciary Committee that voted to recommend Richard Nixon's impeachment. He remembered how quickly that situation had deteriorated, how Nixon had finally quit to avoid being thrown out and how only a Presidential pardon had saved him from going to jail.

Tanner knew that he was in deeper trouble than Nixon had been—but for different reasons. Since becoming President in a landslide victory, he had worked systematically to cut down the power of the big corporations whose influence over American political and economic life had increased spectacularly in the past few years.

This had done nothing to hurt his popularity with the American people, but it had earned him the hatred of many business leaders and they had struck back. Only three months ago, a story in the New York Daily News, one

The story was untrue, but the forced documents in the paper had gone their work. Turner had gone on television to denounce the fraud, and public reaction had been overwhelmingly favorable. But working through allies in Congress, his enemies had instituted impeachment proceedings, whose inexorable progress, along with continual attacks in the conservative press, began to erode his public support and, worse, to take a toll on his mental health.

Tanner slept very little now and had to resort to massive doses of pills to get any rest at all. He sat alone for hours in the Oval Office, brooding about his impending fate, closed off from his staff and his family. The Government was at a standstill because no member of his Cabinet could get through to him for any kind of policy decision.

But he had made an important decision just last night: He was not going to quit and he was not going to let himself be impeached.

He sat slumped in his chair, his head in his hands. And then he began to weep uncontrollably.

Only 50 feet from where the President wept, General Wiley Buchanan sat in the office of the White House Chief of Staff. Ever since General Alexander Haig's appointment to that position by Nixon, White House administration had frequently been entrusted to a military man, and no one seemed to think it incongruous that a Government that prided itself on civilian control over the Armed Forces followed such a course.

Buchanan had the bearing of a man who had spent his entire adult life in the Army. But today, he was experiencing a very unmilitary anguish. Over the past few months, he had watched the deterioration of the President, and only last night, he had come to the conclusion that the nation's Chief Executive was losing his mental balance, perhaps even becoming desperate enough to take an action that could be harmful to the United States.

Buchanan's feel for the national interest played havoc with his loyalty to Tanner and with his deep compassion for a man who had put so much trust in him. Around midnight, hoping for guidance, he had taken a collect phone call from an old friend, a former top CIA officer.