At times, I go into giggles at the notion that the U.S. Intelligence Community is an invisible government. I giggle from experiences Up Close and Personal. The names are changed to protect the innocent, but the story is true.
After the head of one Three-Letter Agency, a lieutenant general that I shall call Jeff Ellis, retired, he became CEO of a quite unclassified, but not-for-profit, industry research organization. My role included being his traveling technical adviser, and something of a court jester. In all seriousness, I like him very much, and learned a great deal from him. He was a policy and command person, not especially technical, and we complemented one another. I had found that he got very formal with people who called him "general", so, in the interest of the court jester role; I always used his first name.
Born in the 1920s, he was rather courtly in his language. If I hadn't known he was from New England, I'd have thought him a southern gentleman. It really disturbed him to hear women curse. This didn't help, during one meeting of our Board of Directors. While I don't remember the exact topic, one of the top executives of our industry rose, asked for recognition, and responded to his comment with a loud "Bullshit!" He was really shocked hearing that in the mouth of a woman who was reputed to have a glare that intimidated Chuck Norris.
But then came the Ultimate Experience. One of our mid-level group leaders was informally called The Viking, and he was indeed a Swede that was at least 6'9" or so, and solid. When you got to know Sven, you'd learn quickly that he was one of the gentlest beings you'd ever meet. We learned that he had put off bringing his wife. One of our people had met her, and would only say "the fair Valeria" and giggle. We were innocent of the knowledge that Romania's Revenge was warming up.
Sven was also independently wealthy, and had bought a nice condo within walking distance of the office. He had taken up with a very weird technical editor, who kept talking about her shamanic journey. It was generally accepted that ... what was her name? Chris? That'll do ... actually lived in the Alternate Shamanic Reality, and when she journeyed to our dimension, she sought, as a spirit guide, an Edsel. That was incorrect, though. Later information revealed that it was a VW Bug.
Apparently, he wasn't talking to his wife. One day, a reasonably attractive woman, dressed in the style of Ladies Who Lunch, showed up in the executive suite. I saw most of this. It was lunchtime, so few people were around to be confronted. "I am Mrs. Lundquist. Where is my hooosband, Sven?" Unfortunately, the receptionist said that she thought he had gone home for lunch.
She showed ID with his name to the condo staff, claimed that she had lost her keys, and got them to let her in, where she found Sven doing the deed with Chris. Valeria stormed out and drove back to our offices. People were back from lunch, including General Jeff.
She stormed past the receptionist to Jeff's office, turned the doorknob, and literally kicked the door open. Don't know if she had been a Romanian gymnast in her younger days, but what happened next certainly didn't rule that out. She stopped briefly, as strange energies radiated from her eyes. Chuck Norris would have run. Dobermans would have deserted,