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

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

in Charge And when he was decided it

moved me, the deputy to answer once on

the White House站1, he had summoned

Rose Lewis to have free. And that is why

at this year incident, Lewis was coming

over the plans of Operation Red Rose in

his office at the UA.

The more Lewis read, the more he realized the seriousness of what Buchanan had proposed to him, It could not be said that Lewis was a man of much scruple: Killing people had not deterred him in the past. Still, the thought of personally ordering the assassination of the President of the United States was staggering.

He had read enough of the dossier to reject the Plan proper. In his opinion, whoever had drawn it up had failed to come up with an organizational structure that could not be traced back to the C.I.A. That was too much of a risk. But the Alternate Plan intrigued him and, gradually, he became convinced that it was workable. Egally, he made up his mind.

He picked up his scrambler telephone and dialed the number of a similar instrument on the desk of General Buchanan. "I just want to check back with you," Lewis said. "I want to make sure that you have thought this thing out completely and that in your mind, it is the only plausible solution."

"There's no other way, Rock." Buchanan replied. "No other way at all. And the quicker we hit him the better. That man with his finger on the nuclear button is a living danger to all of us. And it doesn't matter now whether he's guilty or not. The situation has reached the point where we've got to do something—and fast."

"OK, Wiley." Lewis said. "But just remember that when I put down this phone, there's no turning back. Red Rose will be operational in a half hour. From there to Action Day should be less than seventy-two hours."

"I understand," the general said. "Start the operation."

Lewis heard the phone click at the other end of the line, then he summoned Wolfe. "Call Mikhaylov at the Soviet Embassy and tell him I've got to see him right away."

Wolfe shot his boss a look of disbelief.

"Right now!" Lewis snapped, and Wolfe hurried out.

Night was beginning to fall when Ivan Mikhaylov, the K.G.B. chief of station in Washington, drove up to the guard gate of the CIA building in Langley. He showed a card identifying himself as first secretary of the Soviet

and his white Meeting cone

was quickly passed thereon

Mikhaylov, the events of the past Sovi- had been eighty be- winding. To get a call from the CIA—the agency he had spent his life combating—was extremely easy, but it be invited to a meeting with Charles Lewis, its director, was even stranger. Mikhaylov had been received in many delicate operations in his long career with the Soviet espionage forces. But this request was so peculiar that he had no way of knowing what to expect. Several thoughts rushed through his mind. Maybe, for example, one of his agents had been picked up. But he quickly dismissed that idea. Arrests for spying were usually taken up directly with the ambassador.

Wolfe was waiting for Mikhaylov in the lobby and quickly took him past the guards to the director's private elevator. A minute later, he and Lewis were alone.

Lewis tried to put his guest at ease. "There is no problem, Mr. Mikhaylov." He said with a smile. "It's just that we want you to arrange a service for us."

"I've never heard of the K.G.B.'s working for the CIA before," Mikhaylov said.

"Oh, that's not true. Every once in a while, we do each other little favors." Lewis was not smiling now. "There are some things you can do so much better than we can. And, of course," he added, "there are things that we can do better than you can."

"All right, Mr. Lewis, what is it you want?"

Mr. Mikhaylov, I would like you to make contact with your superiors and have them put into effect the Alternate Plan of Operation Red Rose that they have had in their files since 1974."

"And just what is that plan all about, Mr. Lewis?" the Soviet agent asked.

"We would like you to assassinate our President."

It was the next day and the President was alone, as usual, in his office when Buchanan buzzed to see him. The President had seen no one else for the past several weeks, but he made it a point to talk to Buchanan at least once a day. He buzzed back, and in a few moments, Buchanan was standing before him.

"Mr. President, how are you feeling today?"

"Not very well, Wiley. Didn't get much sleep last night. But you didn't come in here to ask me about my health. What's up?"

Tanner spoke rapidly and his voice sounded shaky.

Buchanan had seen him like that for several months now and it only

rather than immediately hand you about the details of the man. Well, there are two or three things. All their right."

He said without emotion. "First, your invaders would like to see you. They need about two hours of your time to prepare your defense before the House of Representatives."

The President cut him off. "The hell with them!" he shouted. "They can prepare my defense without me. Besides which, what the hell difference does it make? You know as well as they do that those bastards have framed me in such a way that I can't escape."

"If you really feel that way, maybe you ought to resign, like Nixon did," the general said.

"Fat lot of good that did him. I've told you a hundred times, Wiley. I'm not going to resign. And, unlike Nixon, I mean it and I won't change my mind."

"Well, I have to be honest with you, Mr. President: If you don't resign, you're going to be impeached, and we can't promise you twenty votes in the Senate."

"I know all that," Tanner said with irritation. "Let's get off the subject What else do you want?"

Well, the Secretary of Defense wants to see you. You know, we're still involved in those SALT talks with the Soviet Union and he needs some guidance from you on how to proceed."

"And what more?"

"I'll see the ambassador at four o'clock." Tanner said.

"Well, just about an hour ago, the Soviet Embassy called and said that it was urgent for their ambassador to see you. He has a message from Chairman Ivanov that he says must be handed to you before the day is over." On his note pad, Buchanan checked off the items of business.

Buchanan looked up in surprise. Why, he wondered, was the President willing to come out of isolation for the Soviet ambassador? He kept his thoughts to himself. "OK, I'll set that up," he said tonelessly. "And what about the Secretary of Defense?"

"He can wait. Maybe I'll see him tomorrow. That's all, Wiley."

Buchanan knew there was no use in arguing with the President. He quickly strode out of the office.

Mikhail Stepanov, the Soviet ambassador, had been in Washington even longer than his predecessor, Anatoliy Dobrynin. For 17 years, he had tended to the U.S.S.R.'s business there and he had thought he was past surprises. Yet the events of this day had amazed him.

Early in the morning, he had been awakened continued