The Bureau and the Mole: The Unmasking of Robert Philip Hanssen, the Most Dangerous Double Agent in FBI History
304
The Bureau and the Mole: The Unmasking of Robert Philip Hanssen, the Most Dangerous Double Agent in FBI History
304Paperback(First Trade Paper Edition)
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780802139511 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Grove/Atlantic, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 09/10/2002 |
| Edition description: | First Trade Paper Edition |
| Pages: | 304 |
| Sales rank: | 397,292 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.25(h) x (d) |
Read an Excerpt
Alone
Ever since his childhood days in the Norwood Park neighborhood of Chicago, Bob Hanssen had been something of a loner. His mother, Vivian, noticed that whenever something upset him, Bob would head for the safety of his room in their modest, two-bedroom bungalow on Neva Street and immerse himself in books. Bob-an only child born just before the end of World War II-seemed too quiet for a healthy growing boy, and Vivian didn't understand why her son acted the way he did.
At the time, however, Vivian wasn't preoccupied by Bob's taciturn demeanor. He was a dutiful son, his teachers at Norwood Park Elementary said he was a good student, he participated in Cub Scouts at the Lutheran church, and he didn't get into the kind of mischief that led many other boys in the leafy neighborhood astray. Bob walked home daily during the noon break at school. "My son appreciated coming home from school for lunch and having me there. He has told me that time and time again," Vivian recalled. While the pair enjoyed a loving mother-son relationship, Vivian would have been happier if Bob had not turned inward so much. "He was a loner as a kid. He had friends, but when he was home he would be in his room reading or out watching TV with us. But there were never too many deep conversations."
One of Bob's favorite books was The Code Breakers by David Kahn, a thick volume about secret codes and intercepts that fueled his boyhood fascination with the technical aspects of intercepting confidential communications. "If you write the word CLANDESTINE on a piece of paper and think of everything you can imagine, there it is. From bugs to eavesdropping to spying to lock picking to false identities to code breaking to secret messages. Pick up a book on spies, and run through the list, and he had some interest in it," a friend of Bob Hanssen's said. Vivian met Howard Hanssen in 1929, the year of the stock market crash on Wall Street when both of them were working in retail, trying to help their families scrape by during tough times. The two native Chicagoans got to know each other downtown at the city's best-known department store, Marshall Field's, after initially meeting at a much smaller shop that went under. "Howard and I went together for a long time before getting married," Vivian explained. "I was left with my mom, he was left with his mom, and we were the sole support. . . . My mother's husband had died, and she was alone. Earning fifteen dollars a week, or from twelve to twenty dollars a week, doesn't stretch that far."
In 1935 Vivian and Howard wed in a modest ceremony that took place in the pastor's house beside the Lutheran church Howard attended, rather than in the church itself. "We had a small party afterward that my sister arranged at her home, in keeping with the times. It was a desperate time for a lot of people." The couple began their married life in an apartment on the south side of Chicago. Howard was not content sitting behind a desk and considered becoming a cop, a job he believed would be exciting. "It was hard to get on the police force in those days," Vivian said. Decisions about who would get every city job, from trash collector to police officer to health worker, were imbued with the politics and patronage of the Daley machine. But the family had the right political connections for Howard to be hired as a police officer. "He took an exam and passed it and didn't need anything else," Vivian said.
In the early 1940s, with World War II raging, Howard enlisted in the Navy rather than taking the risk of being drafted into the Army and dispatched on a dangerous assignment. "I have friends whose husbands were in that D-Day massacre," Vivian said. "Howard thought the Navy was a little easier than the Army might have been. I imagine he would have gone overseas if he had been in the Army." Instead, Howard stayed far from the battle front, working in the United States as a shore patrolman searching for Americans who had gone AWOL. Eventually, he ended up with a Navy assignment in the Chicago area, permitting him to spend weekends with his bride, who soon became pregnant. "My son was born in April 1944 and that was a good thing," Vivian said.
The Hanssens became a family of three, eligible for some additional benefits from the federal government because of Howard's service in the Navy. "There were allowances for families and we had a little more money," Vivian said. "Things did get better." Vivian devoted herself to keeping house and caring for their infant son. After the war, Howard returned to his job on the Chicago police force, and the couple moved to the northwest part of the city. With the help of the G.I. Bill, they bought a modest home on an L-shaped lot in Norwood Park, a popular neighborhood for police officers and their families. They picked the house, built at an angle to Neva Street, largely because the public schools in the area had a good reputation.
Bob was exposed to religion as a youngster, attending a Lutheran church on Sunday mornings with his mother, who felt it was an important part of raising her son. "The Lutheran church fit in because I think every child should have that kind of upbringing at the beginning of life," Vivian said. "Every child should have religion and know the Bible and get a good start in that respect. I would go and Bob would go to church, but my husband not as often. He was working or whatever." On the Chicago police force, Howard Hanssen tackled a variety of assignments, including working for a special unit that hunted down suspected communist sympathizers. Some of his assignments stirred up ill will, but he told himself that was just part of the job. After many years on the force, the truth was he didn't particularly enjoy the work the way he once did, but it paid the bills. And that was one notch up the ladder from his younger brother, Edward, who could not seem to hold a steady job for long. Howard was street-smart to be sure, but his choices for career alternatives were limited severely by his lack of a formal education. So Howard remained a Chicago cop, even after his promotion to lieutenant left him in the type of job he loathed, behind a desk.
But Howard Hanssen did have an abiding passion in life, something that lifted his spirits and kept him going through the day-to-day monotony. He loved to go to the track and bet on the horses. The pastime became the focal point of the couple's social life, and Vivian enjoyed going with him. "That is where we spent all of our spare time, watching the races," Vivian recalled. "Howard had friends who owned horses. That made it interesting. It makes a difference when you know the horses and jockeys."
Vivian emphasized that Howard's affinity for the horses did not mean he was an addicted gambler or an irresponsible bettor. Instead, she described it as an outlet for his energy and a place where he felt comfortable, whatever the town. "We took a vacation once," Vivian said, "and I didn't realize we were hitting every race track in Canada and the East Coast. I didn't realize it until after the third race track. He had planned it out that way. It gives you something to do in strange towns."
Howard Hanssen also had an agenda for his son that Vivian failed to recognize from its inception. Howard spoke of a better life for Bob. He wanted him to go to college, get an advanced degree, and become a doctor. But in the course of raising his son with an extremely firm hand, he succeeded in destroying Bob's confidence. Instead of praising his schoolwork and encouraging him to succeed, Howard Hanssen's approach was to criticize and berate his son repeatedly. It wasn't tough love; it was tough luck. And, according to Vivian Hanssen, her son came to feel emotionally abused by his father.
"Sometimes people make themselves feel better by not allowing someone else to feel too good," she said. "Maybe Howard had been treated that way. Maybe I just looked at things as the way I hoped they were. . . . I think [Howard] had the idea that if he complimented someone too much, they might get bigger than they should."
Bob was both physically and emotionally abused by his father, according to family members and others.
On at least two occasions, Howard Hanssen physically abused his son while exhorting him to "be a man." When Bob was six or seven years old, his father wrapped him in blankets and twirled him around and around until he became so dizzy that he vomited. Another time, Howard grabbed one of Bob's legs by the ankle, forcefully pulling it into the air and stretching his son's hamstring until he urinated on himself involuntarily. The torture left Bob feeling helpless and humiliated.
"The person you are supposed to trust and identify with is doing everything from hurting to humiliating you, and it is confusing. It creates the beginning of negative feelings about individuals who are supposed to be your protector and authority figures," said Dr. Stephen Hersh, a longtime Washington psychiatrist who has treated FBI agents and many senior federal officials. "He is swung until he gets sick and vomits. Vomiting is a loss of control of your body in the context of extreme distress and fear. This is a child who had repeated experiences that totally destroyed his capacity to identify in a healthy way with male authority figures."
When Bob became old enough, his father took him to get his driver's license. Bob was ready for the road test and excited about the freedom and independence driving would bring. But his father had other ideas. He bribed the official administering the test to fail his son. Bob was aware of what his father did, and it left him feeling that the world was crooked and set up to deny him any sense of control over his own destiny. "I didn't approve of it," Vivian Hanssen said. "[Howard] thought Bob was too cocky and thought he believed he was too good a driver."
Although they could do little or nothing about it, some of the parents of students in Hanssen's grade school were mortified by the way Howard publicly belittled his son to anyone who would listen. "My mom would apparently run into Mr. Hanssen in the grocery store shopping," one classmate recalled. "Howard Hanssen used to say terrible things about Bob."
The problems were exacerbated, Vivian Hanssen said, because her son never raised objections with her about the way he was treated. And so the pattern of abuse, of being rebuked and put down again and again, continued throughout his childhood. Bob suffered enormously, but quietly. "He wouldn't come out and say anything to his dad about it, and would harbor that inside, and it gnaws at you," she said. "That was the kind of thing Howard did that I didn't notice enough of. I thought that they were far enough apart and isolated incidents. I didn't know they were so important to [Bob]. He must have brooded on them." Vivian caught a glimpse of Bob's resentment of his father one day, when Howard received the results of an exam he had taken. "Howard took a test for something, and he was not a real educated man," Vivian said. "His grade was not too hot and Bob, when he saw that, he laughed and said, 'Look at that,' as if he had been told to get good grades and Howard hadn't done so well himself."
While growing up, Bob did find some joy at home. Vivian remembers holidays as special times around the Hanssen household, especially Christmas, when her relatives from Indiana often visited. A neighbor regularly dressed up as Santa Claus when Bob was young and the house would be alive with festive decorations. After his paternal grandparents moved in, Bob also found some companionship with them. Having divorced years earlier, his grandparents stayed in separate makeshift bedrooms. The attic was converted into a bedroom for Bob's grandmother; his grandfather, at times, stayed in the basement. Bob spent time with his grandfather, an engineer, playing with a train set and learning how to put things together and take them apart. He also enjoyed using a ham radio with his father and grandfather.
Bob's serious and melancholy nature can be seen in his 1962 yearbook from Chicago's Taft High School. Most of the graduating class members had glib or light remarks beside their photographs. Beside Robert Albert Heroux: "If I ever became rich with too much green, I would pledge to build a monument for the late James Dean." Beside Carolyn Marie Hinds: "Of all 57 varieties, this 'Hinds' is the best." Beside Anthony Gutilla: "Leader of men, follower of women." Beside Robert Philip Hanssen: "Science is the light of life."
The few high school classmates who remember Hanssen recall an extraordinarily quiet boy, awkward in his interpersonal skills, unusually bright in science, and talented in the nuts and bolts of how things work. "My chemistry teacher looked out at him and said, 'There is old slipstick Hanssen,' and Bob was using a slide rule," a classmate recalled. "He was always on the cutting edge. In those days, slide rules were cutting edge technology. He seemed to automatically grasp things like that, the guy who sees relationships very quickly and clearly in a scientific way. I'm not so sure he has it down sociologically." Others had recollections of Hanssen participating in the ham radio club, talking to operators from around the world even as he remained quiet amid his fellow students. Tom Kozel, a fellow member of the club, said Hanssen enjoyed the four-member group immensely. Yet there is no photo for the ham radio club in the school yearbook-Hanssen's photo appears only in his official graduating class portrait. "We were kind of considered geeky, the ham radio guys," Kozel said.
"That's probably how our friendship started. That was a common interest and then it branched out into other areas, an interest in cars, girls, careers." Hanssen, who was not athletic himself, attended many of Taft High School's football games but usually didn't socialize with the kids who were playing sports, either at school or informally, and did not date much. That placed him on the periphery of life at Taft, which had school spirit and a championship football team that included a fullback, Jim Grabowski, who went on to play for the Green Bay Packers.
"WHAT IS TAFT?" Bob Hanssen's high school yearbook asks-"bewildered Freshies? a desperate game? carefree Seniors? college hopes? a rough Chem test? career dreams? safe drivers? 7:30 chorus practice? tears at graduation? Taft is all of these, but, most of all, Taft is friends, the ones you share yourself with."
Hanssen didn't share himself with many of his Taft classmates. Kozel's clearest recollection of Hanssen concerns the way he just went about his business and did things, without boasting. "I remember him as someone who did not brag about things; he just did them," Kozel emphasized. "He did things and showed up with the evidence afterward. And I kind of admired him, because I was not that way and most people were not that way."
Various classmates' memories of Hanssen are mixed, mostly due to his quiet, inward nature. "People would say he is weird," one classmate recalled. "That is just the way he is. I remember a girl I was dating thought Bob was really strange."
Kozel disputed that assessment, saying Hanssen was "reticent" and awkward around people he didn't know, leaving a false impression that he was that way all the time. He said that Hanssen loosened up around friends. Kozel also remembered Hanssen as the "most conservative" member of their clique. And he blamed Bob's parents for being overprotective when they refused to allow him to join Kozel and two other friends on a backpacking trip to Rocky Mountain National Park after high school graduation.
If she could turn back the clock, if she had another chance to raise her son, Vivian Hanssen would do some major things differently. She would take a firmer stance against her husband's heavy-handed treatment. She would take steps to encourage Bob to get more involved with people and spend less time locked away in his room. She would encourage Bob to speak up for himself, rather than letting problems fester. And she would pay more attention to what was taking place all around her as her son struggled to develop his own personality and identity. As she reflects on it, Vivian Hanssen wishes she would have done more to protect her son from his father. "I had a good relationship with Howard and could have told him to cut out whatever he was doing. I think he would have paid attention."
Table of Contents
| Author's Note | ix | |
| A Note to the Reader | xi | |
| Prologue | 1 | |
| 1 | Alone | 4 |
| 2 | Mad Dog | 20 |
| 3 | A G-Man | 28 |
| 4 | A Charitable Contribution | 40 |
| 5 | The Pizza Connection | 51 |
| 6 | Betrayal | 66 |
| 7 | Control | 86 |
| 8 | The Fbi's Blunder | 96 |
| 9 | The Boss | 99 |
| 10 | The Stripper | 107 |
| 11 | The Unwitting Porn Star | 115 |
| 12 | Friends | 129 |
| 13 | Independence Day | 142 |
| 14 | Respecting the Russians | 151 |
| 15 | Double Trouble | 158 |
| 16 | The Case Agent | 168 |
| 17 | Clashing With Clinton | 178 |
| 18 | A long and Lonely Time | 193 |
| 19 | Watching and Waiting | 203 |
| 20 | What took You so Long? | 211 |
| 21 | Freeh Fall | 217 |
| Epilogue | 224 | |
| Appendix I | The Betrayals of a Spy | 239 |
| Appendix II | The E-mails of a Spy | 247 |
| Appendix III | The Sexual Fantasies of a Spy | 257 |
| Sources | 267 | |
| Acknowledgments | 271 |
Introduction
On the morning of February 18, 2001, FBI Special Agent Bob Hanssen woke up, got out of bed, ate breakfast, and followed his regular Sunday morning routine. Accompanied by his wife and children, Hanssen drove out to St. Catherine of Siena Church in Great Falls, Virginia. There were numerous Roman Catholic churches closer to the Hanssens' home in Vienna, but they had a special reason for traversing the rolling hills of the Washington, D.C., suburbs to attend St. Catherine's. Various high-ranking government officials also attended the church, including FBI Director Louis Freeh. They were all drawn to it, according to its pastor, Father Franklyn Martin McAfee, because of its traditional approach. The Hanssens also relished the church's close ties to Opus Dei, an elite and influential movement within the Catholic Church, and delighted in praying alongside some of the most powerful people in Washington. More members of Opus Dei attended St. Catherine's than any other church in the region. And several of its parishioners sent their boys to The Heights School in Potomac, Maryland, an Opus Dei academy where both Freeh and Hanssen enrolled their sons and had crossed paths recently.
Worship is serious business at St. Catherine's. "In the Washington area, we are the most traditional, the most High church," Father McAfee said. "We detest mediocrity." On Sunday mornings, High Mass, the Mass of Paul XI, is celebrated in Latin, with the choir singing Mozart, the priest facing a wooden altar shrouded in white linens, and a sculpted crucifix illuminated by sunlight streaming in from a hidden skylight. "There is an emphasis on devotions and spirituality and an emphasis on confessions," McAfee said. "We get a lot of confessions here." The Hanssens always sat on the left side of the airy church near the statue of Mary, Mother of Sorrows. The Freeh family always sat on the right side of the church, close to the organ and choir. In addition to St. Catherine's and The Heights, Hanssen and Freeh had other things in common: both were married with six children, lived in northern Virginia, regularly dealt with sensitive matters of Russian counterintelligence, and had decided long ago to devote themselves to careers in law enforcement.
Back at home following church that day, Hanssen struck up a conversation with his old pal Jack Hoschouer, a career soldier turned munitions salesman who was preparing to leave after visiting for several days. Hoschouer went outside with "Sundae," the Hanssens' black Labrador, and played Frisbee for about fifteen minutes. Then, the two friends, whose relationship dated back more than thirty years to high school in Chicago, launched into one of their philosophical discussions about ethics. One point led to another until Hanssen went to get The Man Who Was Thursday, a book by his favorite author, G. K. Chesterton. "Here, read this," Hanssen said, handing his friend the novel-originally published in 1908-he had read and reread many times. "You will probably enjoy it. Things are not always the way they seem."
Hoschouer had to put a rubber band around the tattered book to keep it from falling apart. He was used to such exchanges with Hanssen and didn't consider it out of the ordinary. The two had shared many books and secrets over the years, often talking about the nature of clandestine operations and the kinds of people who carried them out. After Hoschouer finished packing, Hanssen drove him to Dulles International Airport, where he got out of the car at the curb, and the two bid each other farewell.
Fifteen minutes later, a phalanx of armed FBI agents swarmed Hanssen after he deposited a black garbage bag filled with U.S. intelligence secrets at the base of a footbridge in a northern Virginia park. In exchange for the promised secrets, the Russians had left $50,000 in cash for him nearby. At the moment of the arrest, Hanssen's fellow parishioner Louis Freeh sat at the controls of the FBI's sleek, ultramodern crisis operations center, choreographing Hanssen's downfall and raising the curtain on a series of puzzling questions about why this churchgoing family man and FBI sleuth had become a double agent who sold more closely guarded national security secrets than anyone in the Bureau's ninety-year history.
Two days later when the story broke, Hoschouer was stunned by the news. After all they had shared, Hoschouer thought that he really knew Bob Hanssen. In time, to better understand his complex friend, Hoschouer would follow Hanssen's suggestion by reading The Man Who Was Thursday. But while sitting with his parents in Arizona and watching the initial TV news reports about Hanssen's arrest and the allegations of espionage, Hoschouer had a sick feeling in his stomach. His head was swimming with questions.
Who is the real Bob Hanssen? he wondered. What caused such a patriotic American to spy? Why had he risked it all? The only thing Hoschouer was now sure of was what Hanssen had told him a few days earlier when he had handed him the book. Things are not always the way they seem.