Free The Falcon and the Snowman by Robert Lindsey Page A

preparing his security-clearance file.
    The investigation uncovered no criminal record and determined that Chris had a good credit rating. A neighbor who taught school in Los Angeles was interviewed and, the investigator reported, gave Chris the highest praise. “He has known subject Boyce approximately 18 years” and “vouches for subject’s integrity and knows of no reason why subject could not get a Government clearance.”
    Apparently, no one during the investigation mentioned Chris’s affection for marijuana. Or if anyone did mention it, perhaps the investigators concluded that occasional use of marijuana had become so common that it was not enough reason to deny a security clearance to an otherwise qualified young man. The investigation of Christopher John Boyce was perhaps as thorough a look into the background of a twenty-one-year-old from one of America’s most privileged environments that his country could expect, except for one thing: it did not look into his mind and discover the conflicts and disillusionment that were bedeviling him.
    Judge Burch Donahue, who had been crippled as a youth, rolled his wheelchair into a courtroom in the Los Angeles County Superior Court annex in Torrance on September 6. Before him was Daulton’s hand-printed note from the Wayside Honor Rancho. Trying to look harmless, Daulton was sitting with his lawyer, Kenneth Kahn, who quickly launched into a persuasive appeal to the judge on behalf of his client: Daulton had spent six months at Wayside, he said, and he had no bad marks on his record. Now he deserved a second chance and wanted to enter Harbor College, the junior college below The Hill that Chris had attended for a semester. He reminded the judge that he had said at Daulton’s last hearing that he might be released early if his behavior was good in prison.
    â€œI did indicate that back in February, with reference to schooling, as long as the conduct was satisfactory,” Donahue acknowledged.
    â€œI want the young man to understand this: I want a copy of his class schedule at Harbor, and I expect fifteen units plus . Do you understand that, young man? Some fellows enroll and quit as soon as I let them go to school.…”
    â€œYes,” Daulton replied.
    â€œSo the modification will be granted as to time served. All other terms and conditions are to remain the same.”
    The months at Wayside hadn’t been wasted, Daulton told his parents. He said he’d made some new friends and had had some time to work with his hands in the prison woodshop.
    Once Daulton was out of jail, however, he lost no time in going back to his old business.
    The same week Daulton was released from jail, Chris passed his initial security check at TRW.
    A few days later, while he was visiting the Lee house on a Saturday night after a day of flying hawks in the desert, Mrs. Lee asked Chris what he was doing on his new job. “I push papers around and sweep the floors,” he said.
    On the job, Chris’s politeness and intelligence and his willingness to work were already impressing his superiors at TRW. On September 24, the company was informed by the Department of Defense that it had approved Christopher John Boyce, Badge No. 6944S, for access to Secret information.
    This broadened the contributions Chris could make in Classified Material Control, but he still regarded the job as boring. Besides, it wasn’t yielding as much money as he wanted. He wanted more money—not only for school the next year, but to buy a sports car, a British Triumph roadster. In mid-October, a friend told him about a part-time job that was open in Westchester, a community on the edge of Los Angeles International Airport not far from Loyola University. The job, tending bar in a pool hall, paid only $60 a week for four hours a night or so. But figuring this would bring his total weekly pretax income to a respectable $200 a week, he took it.
    Chris was a quick