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His partner, Risina, serves as his fence. An unusual take on working motherhood. When the next assignment comes in, both Columbus and Risina are surprised to find that the mark is another assassin: a brash, young killer named Castillo. Castillo is an assassin on the rise. Believe No One by A. A call for help from a sheriff's deputy takes forensics expert Nick Fennimore to Oklahoma: a mother is dead, her child gone.

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As the two investigations merge, nine-year-old Red, adventuring in Oklahoma's backwoods, has no clue that he and his mom are in the killer's sights. And soon the race is on to catch a serial killer and save the boy. Delivering books to the housebound residents of the Thumb Islands, just a short boat ride from the town of Briar Creek, library director Lindsey Norris has befriended two elderly brothers, Stewart and Peter Rosen.

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Bona fides, Lies and Spies by Martin Roberts (2007, Hardcover)

Betrayed by Lisa Scottoline Maverick lawyer Judy Carrier takes the lead in a case that's more personal than ever. To the disappointment of his family, he dropped out of boarding school at 15, eventually enrolling instead at an academy for poultry farmers. When that venture failed, he bought a smaller theater, which flopped too. Success chronically eluded him.

By 24, Pujol had resigned himself to working on a sinking chicken farm and marrying a girl he wasn't sure he loved. His life was normal, if not boring. But life in s Spain was anything but boring.

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In , King Alfonso XIII sensed his popularity crumbling and fled the country without formally abdicating, leaving Spain a political vacuum. Communist and Fascist groups violently fought for power. When Spain plunged into civil war in July , Pujol was supposed to report for duty, but he fled instead. He was soon caught and thrown in prison. Then, after unwittingly joining a jailbreak, he bolted to a safe house in Barcelona. More than a year passed, and in , a depressed and emaciated Pujol emerged from hiding. The escapee looked so bad, he was able to forge a document saying he was too old for the army.

It would be the first of a growing snowball of lies. Desperate for money, Pujol eventually landed a job managing a dumpy Madrid hotel ironically named the Majestic. The walls were grubby and the heating was shoddy, but in a certain sense, he had found a home. He was a passionate small-talker, and a hotel was a great place to meet people. And those people could be his ticket out of war-torn Spain.

One day, the Spanish Duke of Torre walked into the hotel and asked for a room. He knew there was hooch across the border in Portugal. So Pujol wagered the duke a deal: If he could procure Pujol a passport, then Pujol would procure some scotch. The royal agreed, and soon the Spaniard had his papers. He chauffeured the aristocrats into Portugal, bought six bottles of black market booze, and moseyed back into Spain with ease. Like that, he had a document that people killed, and were killed, for. He could escape. The timing could not have been worse. There was nowhere safe to escape to.

Weeks earlier, in September , England had declared war on Germany.

The Most Amazing Lie in History

Pujol was trapped—and outraged. So instead of plotting his escape, Pujol began plotting schemes to help the Allies. In January , he walked into the British embassy and vaguely asked for a job as a spy. There was just one problem: He knew absolutely nothing about espionage. Undeterred, Pujol returned home and fine-tuned his spiel. Then, he did the unthinkable: He called the German embassy and declared he wanted to spy for the Nazis. The voice on the line was heavy and guttural. Pujol followed orders. The agent greeted him with a cold nod.

His code name was Federico, and he was specially trained to spot frauds. Pujol sat and started professing a devout—but false—love for Hitler and the New Order. The rant was cunning and bombastic. Off the top of his head, Pujol spun a rambling web of lies, rattling off names of nonexistent diplomats whom he claimed were friends.

Impressed, Federico scheduled a second meeting. Rather, they needed moles who could snoop abroad. Pujol beamed and told the recruiter about his passport. Federico nodded. A few days later, he told Pujol to go to Lisbon and charm the embassy into awarding him an exit visa. When Pujol got there, the embassy refused. At his hotel in Lisbon, he befriended a portly, affable Galician man named Jaime Souza. For the next week, Pujol accompanied Souza everywhere: amusement parks, nightclubs, cabarets, and, eventually, a casino. One afternoon, as the duo played roulette, Pujol pretended to double over with stomach cramps.

He told Souza to keep playing while he ran back to the hotel. Then, he returned to the casino floor as if nothing had happened. Within days, Pujol had forged the document. Upon returning to Spain, he showed it to Federico: Pujol was in. Pujol, of course, had no interest in actually spying for the Nazis. He wanted to be an Allied double agent. So instead of following orders to go to Britain, he went to Portugal.

Confident the Allies would accept him now that he had access to German secrets, he dashed to the British embassy and showed them the ink, the ciphers, and the cash—he had everything a double agent needed. When the war began, the office was a factory of bad ideas. In , it tried convincing the Germans that man-eating sharks had been dumped in the English Channel. A year later, it seriously considered staging the Second Coming of Christ.

The plan was simple: A Jesus-like figure would magically appear across the German countryside, perform miracles, and preach peace. The decision to reject Pujol, however, was a matter of politics. He had never been there. He knew nothing about its military.

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He barely spoke the language. And now, in order not to blow his cover with the Abwehr, he had to convince the Nazis he was living there. Without leaving Portugal, Pujol bought a map of England, a tourist guidebook, and a list of railway timetables—and began lying through his teeth. The Abwehr had told him to recruit subagents for help. If something went sour, he could blame it on his imaginary employees.

In one letter, he told the Germans that a convoy of five Allied ships had left Liverpool for Malta. Little did Pujol know, but the made-up report was, in reality, mostly correct. A Nazi spy was loose in England!

{Drum & Bass} Aperio - Focus on You (ft. Faye Hudson)

He pulled a similar stunt weeks later, reporting that a major armada was departing Wales. But U-boats and Italian fighter planes scrambled to ambush it anyway, wasting tons of fuel and thousands of man-hours. The Brits were so impressed with his ability to play a fervid Nazi, they code-named the amateur spy GARBO because, in their opinion, he was the best actor in the world.

At that time, I was not aware that he was a polygraph "rock star. There are many of us who can thank Alan Trabue for his guidance and mentorship in learning how to conduct polygraph examinations, but more importantly, I thank Alan for instilling in generations of examiners the personal and professional pride that comes with "finding the truth. Thank you for your service to this country, Al!

His experiences make for excitable reading For five years, he directed the CIA's world-wide covert ops polygraph program. He served as Director of the CIA Polygraph School for six years and as an adjunct instructor at the current federal polygraph school for eight years.

He retired in He currently lives in Virginia. Our Privacy Notice has been updated to explain how we use cookies, which you accept by continuing to use this website. To withdraw your consent, see Your Choices. Trabue Thomas Dunne Books. About the author. Alan B.