August 24, 1977

 

After dropping Bernadette off at Dulles Airport, Peter drove to Falls Church, parked on a side street and opened the phone book he brought from the hotel. Running his finger down the columns of Jones’ he found Oscar. How many Oscars could there be with Jones as the last name?

Turning right off Broad Street, Peter drove up Lawton Street until he spotted the Jones house. It was an attractive middle-class neighborhood with good-sized lots that were all well taken care of. Trimmed lawns, shrubs a bit overgrown, and large trees lined the street. A blue hydrangea bush was blooming beside the Jones house. A vintage Subaru was sitting in the driveway. No sign of any kid swings or bikes in the driveway or lawn. Oscar had a long-term live-in he swore didn’t know anything about his background. The Subaru was probably hers.

Peter parked where he could watch the house for a few minutes. Fortunately, there were a few ‘For Sale’ signs in the neighborhood that gave him reason enough to be there. But only for a few minutes.

I don’t want to involve the woman. She will have enough trouble with the FBI. No way I can talk to him in his house. The talk thing is not going to work. Oscar is a hardcore card-carrying Communist, totally dedicated to his mission. He won’t be taken alive. I’ll have to call him. Give him the right keywords to identify myself and get him to go where I can kill him if I have to. The only question is do I take the chance of talking to him first or just kill him. It’s hard to have any feelings for a man whose mission is to kill hundreds of people and spread panic. My gut instinct is to just shoot him and get it over with. I’ll call him tonight.

Peter hadn’t told Frank Batcher everything he knew about Oscar Jones, the KGB agent with the mission to shut down the subway system in the nation’s capital by releasing ricin poison during rush hour. Peter last met with Jones three years ago when he gave him instructions to move to Falls Church, Virginia, a suburb in the Washington metropolitan area.

Jones had worked for eight years as a chemist in a chemical plant in Toledo, Ohio. Back then, Peter had had all his agents give him their decoding pads. Without the decoding pads, none of them could receive messages from anyone but Peter. He told them the pads were defective and had to be replaced.

Peter, using the name Mr. Martin, called Oscar from a pay phone in McLean at 7:00 PM and, after identifying himself with the right protocol, told Oscar to meet him tonight at 10:00 PM, walking up Great Falls Street toward McLean on the left side of the street past the city tennis courts and to keep walking until they met.

Peter knew Oscar was comfortable with the contact instructions. They were practically right out of the training manual. This procedure gave Peter control of when and where along the walking route he would make contact. If he saw anything indicating his agent was being watched, Peter could abort the meeting and when no contact occurred, the agent would continue his walk for another ten minutes and then return home.

Peter watched Oscar come out of Lawton Street and turn right on Broad toward Great Falls Street. He stayed put in his car until Oscar was out of sight. Noting no surveillance, he drove another route to get near the tennis courts before parking his car and returning on foot to a concealed position in the heavy shrubs near the courts. He would be able to come out of his waiting position the instant Oscar strolled by.