Welcome to the 'Corey Pearson – CIA Spymaster Series'- Novels and Short Stories of Espionage and Intrigue!

              Whether you’re looking for a quick, thrilling short-story read or an immersive spy novel to sink into, Corey Pearson’s world has something for every adventure lover. Buckle up, explore the world of espionage, and join Corey Pearson on his next mission today!   

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COREY PEARSON- CIA SPYMASTER NOVEL SERIES: Enter the deadly world of Corey Pearson – CIA Spymaster, where deception is survival and the enemy hides in plain sight in these full-length novels. In Mission of Vengeance, Pearson hunts Russian agents behind a Caribbean massacre. In Shadow War, he uncovers a sleeper cell plot threatening millions on U.S. soil. From covert ops to nuclear threats, these gripping thrillers fuse real spycraft with breakneck action. The line between ally and traitor blurs—and only Pearson’s team can stop the chaos before it’s too late.

COREY PEARSON- CIA SPYMASTER SHORT STORY SERIES: These quick, 20-30 minute reads are perfect for spy thriller enthusiasts who crave high-stakes missions packed with real-world espionage and gripping spycraft. Read them in any order and get whisked away into Corey Pearson’s daring adventures, all in a single sitting!

 

  

 

Lone Wolf Killers in America: The Growing Threat Next Door

 

He Sat in Church on Sunday—Then Killed on Monday

     Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, were supposed to be safe in their own home. She was a former Speaker of the Minnesota House—respected, sharp, and not one to back down. Then, in a flash, they were both gone. Shot dead. It wasn’t random. Not even close. It was cold, deliberate, and charged with a purpose no sane person could justify.

     The man behind it? Vance Luther Boelter. Fifty-seven years old. Ex-military look. Quiet, the kind of guy you wouldn’t pick out of a crowd unless you knew what to look for. He’d been missing for two days when they finally caught him late Sunday night—ending what’s now the largest manhunt in Minnesota’s history.

     Turns out Boelter had posed as a cop to get into the Hortmans’ place just outside Minneapolis. Once inside, he opened fire. Before that, he’d hit another target—State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, just a few miles away. They got lucky. Melissa and Mark didn’t.

Governor Tim Walz didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “A politically motivated assassination,” he said. And he was right.

     This wasn’t a robbery. It wasn’t madness. It was a mission—twisted and deadly, carried out by a man who thought he was some kind of holy warrior.

     Boelter wasn’t a ghost. He had a face, a voice, a presence in his community. He was deeply religious, a fixture in evangelical circles, and he had a long history of political conservatism. He attended Trump rallies. He once gave a sermon in Africa warning that America had lost its way, blaming churches for not taking a hard enough stance against abortion. He registered as a Republican in Oklahoma in 2004 and later settled in Minnesota, where party affiliation isn’t recorded. On paper, he looked like a passionate, God-fearing citizen. In reality, he had crossed into something far darker.

     This is the shape of a new threat: not foreign operatives or extremist cells from overseas, but radicalized Americans. Lone actors. Homegrown threats that simmer quietly until they erupt. And they’re becoming harder to stop.

     Boelter’s not some one-off nutjob. He’s part of a bigger, nastier trend. Guys like him are popping up all over—mixing fire-and-brimstone religion with hardcore political rage. They think America’s under attack, and they’re the ones chosen to save it. Guns in hand, Bible in the other.

     And here's the kicker—they’re not in some militia camp out in the sticks. Most of them radicalize online, tucked away in digital rabbit holes packed with conspiracy theories, fake news, and a steady drip of paranoia. No uniforms, no badges, no official club. Just rage, and a target list.

     They’re ghosts until they pull the trigger.

     And by the time anyone notices, the body count’s already started.

     Anti-government militias across the U.S. are no longer isolated backwoods fantasies. They are becoming structured, with recruitment pipelines, funding sources, and ideological cohesion. These groups often merge religious fervor with political extremism, spinning a narrative where violence against elected officials and government institutions becomes not only permissible, but holy. They’re not hiding. They’re on social media. They’re at school board meetings. They’re walking through your neighborhood in tactical gear.

     The murder of a public official by someone who once sat in a church pew and spoke of morality should shatter any illusion that radicalization only happens "elsewhere." It can happen in a suburban cul-de-sac. In a small-town chapel. In someone’s basement as they scroll endlessly through extremist forums masked as news.

     Robert Morton, author of the Corey Pearson—CIA Spymaster Series, has written extensively about this shift, where threats to America now rise not from overseas intelligence plots, but from within—fueled by ideology, grievance, and unchecked rage. His work captures the chilling transformation of ordinary citizens into violent actors convinced they are soldiers in a civil war that hasn’t officially begun, but in their minds, is already underway.

     The hard truth is—America’s biggest threat isn’t coming from across the ocean. It’s already here. It’s not some foreign agent sneaking through a border. It’s the guy grilling in his backyard. The one who shakes your hand at church. Smiles at the PTA meeting. Votes like everyone else. Until one day, he decides a gun speaks louder than a ballot.

     You can build walls, launch airstrikes, pass all the security bills you want—it won’t stop what’s festering inside. Not unless we deal with what’s really fueling this: unchecked radicalization, the nonstop lies pouring out of dark corners of the internet, and this dangerous mix of politics and religion that turns true believers into armed crusaders.

     What happened to Melissa and Mark Hortman? That wasn’t some fluke.   It was a warning.

     And we’d better listen.

 

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and writes about the U.S. Intelligence Community (IC). He also writes the full-novel Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster Series, which blends his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.

Missiles at the Gate: Inside the MANPADS Threat to U.S. Airports

 

Rooftop Assassins Take Aim at Airliner — A Real-World Threat, Not Just Spy Fiction

     The sun was just rising when the Boeing 757 lifted off the tarmac at Moi International Airport in Mombasa, Kenya. The passengers had no idea they were seconds away from being targeted by two shoulder-fired missiles fired by Al-Qaeda operatives crouched in the scrub beyond the perimeter fence.   The SA-7 Strela missiles hissed skyward—only to miss by a whisper, either from technical failure or blind luck. The jet continued safely to Tel Aviv, 271 souls unaware of how close death had flown beside them.

     That was 2002. But the playbook hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s evolved.

In Operation Skyfall, a fictional CIA thriller rooted in chilling real-world plausibility, CIA Deputy Director Kimble tosses a manila file onto Spymaster Corey Pearson’s desk with six words no one in Langley wants to hear: “We’ve got a situation. It’s bad.” The chatter is encrypted, the accents trace back to Venezuela, and the payload is missiles—shoulder-fired, Russian-made, and in the hands of a U.S.-based domestic terror group with a bone-deep grudge. Their target? Civilian airliners. The question isn’t if. It’s where and when.

     Back in the real world, these weapons—called MANPADS, short for man-portable air-defense systems—are the modern terrorist’s holy grail. Designed to take down low-flying aircraft, they're compact, easy to use, and terrifyingly effective. During takeoff or landing, when an airliner is a slow-moving heat source painted against the sky, one missile is all it takes.

     Some models are more dangerous than others. The SA-16 and SA-18, Russian in origin, can hunt targets out to 5 kilometers and up to 11,500 feet. They’re smarter than older models, designed to ignore decoy flares and strike true. We’ve seen them stolen from conflict zones in Syria, Afghanistan, and Libya—snatched by militias and moved across borders like briefcases.

     Then there’s the Chinese FN-6, a heat-seeker with a punch to reach 12,500 feet. It’s been spotted in the hands of non-state actors from Iraq to Sudan. But the most chilling is the FIM-92 Stinger, made in the U.S., guided by infrared and ultraviolet sensors, and once given to Afghan rebels during the Soviet invasion. Some of those units never came back.

     Pearson’s team knew what they were up against. “Shoulder-fired,” he told his agents inside a dimly lit safe house. “Enough to turn a jet into a headline.” Ashley, a field officer with a talent for understatement, just said, “Not your run-of-the-mill firearms, then.”

     Getting these weapons into the U.S. isn’t fantasy—it’s logistics. The Caribbean and Mexican routes are already proven corridors for drug cartels and gunrunners. And what works for cocaine works just as well for missiles. In Mexico, containers arriving at Manzanillo, Veracruz, or Lázaro Cárdenas are rarely inspected. One container, one false manifest, and a launcher can slide past sleepy port guards—especially if they’ve been paid to look away. Once ashore, it’s handed off to cartel runners who smuggle it north across the border using the same routes that move fentanyl into Texas.

     Over in the Caribbean, things are looser. Ports like Port-au-Prince, Kingston, and Freeport act as informal gateways. Weapons can be moved by fishing boat, hidden beneath sacks of rice, or packed inside electronics labeled for retail stores in Florida. There are shipping containers so poorly vetted that some sit on U.S. docks for days before anyone opens them. One CIA file showed a disassembled FN-6 packed in engine parts headed for Miami. If the agent hadn’t flagged it, the missile would’ve arrived in a warehouse 10 miles from the airport.

     In Operation Skyfall, back in Langley, Kimble laid it all out. “Financial transactions tie Venezuelan arms dealers to militia operatives already on U.S. soil. We’ve got breadcrumbs. No time, no location.” Corey Pearson flipped through photos of smugglers, money men, and schematics showing how a missile could be broken down—gripstock, launch tube, battery—all small enough to fit inside a Toyota trunk.

     But the threat isn’t spy thriller fiction. It’s logistics married to ideology. With MANPADS only about five feet long and often under 35 pounds, terrorists don’t need a shipping container—they need a plan. Disassemble the weapon. Label it “industrial parts.” Slide it past customs with falsified documents and a bribe. Store it in a front company’s garage outside a major airport. Wait. Watch.

     And then strike.

     What makes this threat even more sobering is its low-tech simplicity. The 2002 Mombasa attack was done with aging Soviet weapons by men with little formal training. Imagine what a domestic cell could do with modern gear and a well-mapped airport approach route. Most major U.S. airports are surrounded by warehouses, highways, hotels—places where a team with a missile and a stopwatch could set up, launch, and vanish before the plane even hits the ground.

     Operation Skyfall shows how this nightmare could unfold. And while Pearson’s team races to intercept the missile shipment before it crosses the border, the real world asks a harder question: What if they don’t?

     The idea of a passenger jet being blown from the sky during its final descent over Phoenix, Dallas, or New York City isn’t just a plot device. It’s a warning. It’s a very real scenario that demands attention before fiction turns into reality.

     Because in the wrong hands, one shoulder-fired missile is all it takes to turn a normal Tuesday into a global tragedy.

 

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and an accomplished author. He writes the Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster Short Story series, blending his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.

America’s Ghost Jet: The Black Project Russia Would Kill to Own

 

A Russian mole watches from the shadows as America’s next-generation spy plane is built—because one stolen secret could shift the balance of power.

Riding high above seventy thousand feet, where the air’s razor thin and the sky blurs into space, there’s a new bird in the air—and it’s not one you’ve seen before. It’s not some drone on autopilot. It’s not a satellite snapping long-range shots from orbit. This thing’s different. Sharper. Quieter. Deadlier.    And it’s got real people in the cockpit—operators with the guts and instincts to make snap calls a machine wouldn’t even know needed making.

     This is America’s next-generation spy plane, and while the rest of the world’s still guessing the rules, it’s already rewriting the playbook. It’s the same kind of game-changing tech that takes center stage in The Hunt For A Russian Spy, where CIA operative Corey Pearson races to stop a Russian mole from stealing plans for a similar classified aircraft. In that spy thriller, fiction inches close to fact—and what’s flying today might be even more advanced than what’s on the page.

     The plane’s still classified, of course. No public photos. No big reveal. But inside the Pentagon, it’s talked about under the Next-Generation ISR platform. Its job’s brutally simple: go where nothing else can, see what no one else does, and make damn sure the U.S. knows what’s coming before it hits. Think of it as the U-2 Dragon Lady’s successor—only now with a stealth design, modular surveillance tech, and the ability to change mission profiles mid-flight.

     This isn’t just a flying camera. It’s a hunter. It can sniff out enemy missile sites, intercept encrypted chatter, and track hostile movements in real time. And it does it all from altitudes commercial jets wouldn’t dare try.

     What really sets it apart, though? It’s manned. In an age where drones hog the headlines and AI gets sold as the fix for everything, the Air Force is still betting on something old-school—people. Machines can crunch the numbers, sure. They can spot patterns. But they don’t know when to break them. They can’t make moral calls when things go hot. They don’t hear the tone in a scrambled radio or feel that gut-level sense when something’s just... wrong.

     That’s why this bird doesn’t fly itself. It’s got seasoned operators onboard—folks who’ve trained for the worst, people who stay cool when everything goes sideways. If a foreign base suddenly goes dark or a weapons shipment ghosts off satellite, these are the people who pivot fast, follow the thread, and crack the puzzle before most folks even know there’s a piece missing.

     And that blend of stealth, speed, and human brains is why our adversaries aren’t watching passively—they’re circling. They want this tech. Bad. Russia’s GRU and SVR have been sniffing around our black-budget aerospace projects for years. They know a plane like this is the big score. You get your hands on the blueprints, reverse-engineer the guts, and just like that, the edge flips. One moment we’re leading, the next we’re chasing our own tail.

     Unfortunately, it’s already happened. Back in 2010, Greg Chung, a former Boeing engineer, was busted for stealing a trove of classified aerospace data. Space Shuttle systems. Delta rockets. Military aircraft blueprints. He wasn’t a movie spy—just a guy with access, feeding it all to China. That case cracked wide open the reality that spies don’t always sneak through the fence with bolt cutters. Sometimes they badge in, day after day, with a clean résumé and a long game.

     It’s the same threat at the heart of The Hunt For A Russian Spy, a spy thriller where CIA vet Corey Pearson gets pulled into a deep-cover operation after intel points to a GRU mole inside Boeing’s black project division. The mission? Uncover who’s targeting the sixth-generation, crewed spy plane before the Russians get their hands on it. The book’s fiction—but the scenario? A little too close for comfort.

     Because America’s lead in aerospace isn’t just about muscle—it’s about defense. This new spy plane can fly into the places we’re not supposed to reach. Jammed airspace. Cut-off comms. Environments where drones can’t function. It can locate terror cells, flag cyberwar centers, track rogue subs. And it does all that before a threat turns into a headline.

     Most Americans will never lay eyes on this aircraft. They won’t know where it’s flown, what it’s uncovered, or how many attacks it’s stopped before they ever made the news. And honestly, that’s the whole idea. It’s the ghost in the sky that keeps the rest of us safe. It lets families drop their kids off at school and go about their day without wondering if something’s coming over the horizon.

     The Russians? They get it. That’s why they’re still trying to steal it—because they know exactly how powerful it is. In today’s world, where everything moves at breakneck speed and war doesn’t always come with a warning shot, this spy plane isn’t just about gathering intel.

     It’s a message: We’re watching. We’re prepared. And we’re still ahead of the game.

 

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and an accomplished author. He writes the Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster Short Story series, blending his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.

Behind Enemy Lines: The CIA’s Secret War to Bring Hostages Home

 

In the heart of the jungle, silence breaks—CIA intel and special ops bring America's stolen lives back from the shadows.  

When Americans get snatched overseas—by terrorists, warlords, or some off-the-grid militia—there’s one group that doesn’t flinch: the CIA. You won’t see them wearing uniforms. You won’t catch their faces on the nightly news. But behind the scenes? They’re moving mountains to bring our people home.

These folks deal in spycraft, not headlines. Disguises, wiretaps, shady meetups in sketchy places—whatever it takes. And when the quiet moves don’t cut it, they’re not afraid to call in the muscle. Because when the CIA gets involved, it’s game on.

Sometimes it plays out in boardrooms, with diplomats trading words and warnings. Other times, it’s boots in the mud and bullets flying through the trees. But no matter how the mission unfolds, the goal stays the same: get our people back—alive. Always.

     Case in point: Somalia, 2012. American aid worker Jessica Buchanan had been kidnapped by Somali pirates and held for months in a remote, hostile corner of the country—no law, no backup, no mercy. The U.S. had one shot to bring her home alive. That’s where the CIA came in.

     Working the ground in silence, CIA operatives tracked her captors through a web of informants, intercepted chatter, and on-the-ground surveillance. They zeroed in on her location with razor-sharp precision—no easy feat in a land ruled by warlords and chaos.

     Once the intel was solid, the plan went live. In the dead of night, SEAL Team Six parachuted in under moonlight, guided by coordinates the CIA had confirmed. The assault was clean, fast, and deadly. They hit the compound, neutralized the captors, and pulled Jessica out without a scratch. The entire op lasted minutes. The CIA didn’t fire a shot—but without their intel, that mission never gets off the ground.

     That level of precision and pressure—that's the tone that inspired my spy thriller Silent Heroes, where CIA spymaster Corey Pearson leads an elite team to rescue six American hostages held by FARC guerrillas deep in the Colombian jungle. Pearson’s crew is trained in blending into hostile terrain, gathering intel from the inside, and executing with silent efficiency. Fiction? Yes. But if you know how the CIA really operates, you’ll recognize the blueprint.

     Back in 2020, things got real again—this time in Nigeria. Philip Walton, an American living in Niger, was grabbed right out of his backyard by armed kidnappers. They hustled him across the border into a no-name village deep in Nigeria, planning to vanish into the bush with him.

     But what they didn’t count on? The CIA was already on their trail.

     The Agency got to work immediately. They pieced together the puzzle using satellite feeds, intercepted calls, and tips from people on the ground. When they had the location locked, they handed it off to the best in the business—SEAL Team Six.

     What happened next could’ve been a movie scene. In the middle of the night, the SEALs parachuted in. No warning. No noise. They hit the compound hard and fast. Six out of seven kidnappers were taken out before they even knew someone was coming. Walton was pulled out safe, not a scratch on him.

     One guy in the know said it best: “They were all dead before they knew what happened.” That’s what it looks like when CIA brains and military brawn work like a well-oiled machine.

     Just like Pearson’s team in Silent Heroes, the real CIA relies on local intel and cultural immersion. They embed. They observe. They disappear into the landscape, whether it’s the urban sprawl of Bogotá or the blistering backlands of Africa.

     In the short story spy thriller, Corey and his crew slip into Colombian society to locate six Americans abducted by FARC rebels. Doctors, teachers, aid workers—ordinary people now bargaining chips in a brutal political game. It echoes real-life hostage videos where terrified civilians are paraded in front of cameras, demands shouted in foreign tongues, guns pressed to heads.

And in the shadows, teams like Corey’s—or their real-world counterparts—move into position.

     That’s the part people often miss. These missions aren’t some wild west, shoot-from-the-hip rescue jobs. They’re built on quiet moves and patient work—sometimes weeks, sometimes months of digging. A hushed tip in a crowded market. A blurry image caught by a satellite. A single message buried in code. That’s how the CIA builds the map. That’s how they find the hostages before it’s too late.

     In Silent Heroes, that slow burn plays out in real time. Corey Pearson’s team pores over shaky footage showing the hostages bound and bruised, every twitch and glance telling its own story. It’s not just for show—it’s intel, and it matters. And the closer they get, the more urgent it feels. You can almost smell the jungle safehouses—thick air, soaked in sweat and fear. The hostages, wrists raw, hope fading fast. That kind of brutality? It’s not just fiction. It’s how real captors operate. And it’s exactly why the CIA doesn’t waste time once the clock starts ticking.

     It listens. It infiltrates. And when the timing is right, it strikes.

     So next time you hear about an American freed from captivity, remember this: there’s often no press conference, no medals, no movie rights. Just a shadow team, backed by the CIA, that did the impossible—again. Like Silent Heroes, these operators work in the dark so others can live in the light.

     And they never stop.

 

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and writes about the U.S. Intelligence Community (IC). He also writes the full-novel Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster series, which blends his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.

The Spy Next Door: Corey Pearson and His CIA Team Could Be Living Beside You—And That's Not Fiction!

 

By day, he’s a globe-trotting photographer. By night, a covert CIA operative. The truth is hidden in plain sight 

  He’s the guy next door with a quiet smile and a camera bag slung over his shoulder. Says he shoots wildlife photos for international magazines. She’s the charming woman upstairs who books luxury safaris and always seems to be jetlagged but glowing. The tech guy who never leaves his laptop. The sweet couple who do destination weddings. That quiet analyst who never comes to the building happy hours.

     They might all be telling the truth—or they might be CIA.

     Some CIA operatives don’t just vanish into foreign countries under fake passports and aliases. When they come home—especially those working under non-official cover (NOC)—they carry those fabricated identities right back into everyday American life. The mission may be over, but the deception stays.

     I remember sitting across from Tony Mendez at an AFIO luncheon years ago. Calm, modest, not one to seek the spotlight—but when he started talking, you could hear a pin drop. He described the tradecraft his team used to outwit the Iranians during the 1979 hostage crisis: fake film crews, disguised identities, forged documents. It sounded like something out of Hollywood, which it eventually became. Argo was the dramatized version. I heard the real story firsthand.

     Tony wasn’t just a CIA officer—he was a master illusionist. His “production company” had a working office in L.A., props, business cards, everything needed to convince the Iranian regime that a Hollywood crew was scouting locations in Tehran. It wasn’t just bold—it was surgical.

     When Mendez returned to the U.S., there were no parades or press tours. He went back to being “just a guy” in suburban Virginia who said he worked in logistics. Neighbors had no clue they lived next to a legend. If you want to learn more about that unforgettable conversation, check out Tony Mendez, the CIA Hero Behind the Movie 'ARGO'—it captures the reality behind the myth.

     The thing is, this isn’t just the stuff of memoirs and movies. It’s the daily reality for operatives like the ones in the Corey Pearson – CIA Spymaster Short Story Series, where fiction echoes the truth with unsettling accuracy.

     Take Corey Pearson. On the surface, he’s a freelance wildlife photographer living in Arlington. The guy travels the world chasing rare animals with a camera. At least, that’s what his neighbors think. In reality, he just came back from a classified mission deep in the Colombian jungle, rescuing six Americans from FARC rebels. The headlines credited “unnamed heroes.” That was Corey’s team.

     When operatives like him return, there's no down time. Their real job gets buried again under the cover story. Every casual conversation becomes a test. One misstep, and the whole thing could unravel.

     Ana plays a travel agent in Georgetown, full of stories about island getaways and five-star resorts. But those stories are cover for counterintelligence work across Asia. Her charm isn’t just disarming—it’s strategic.

     Brad, holed up in his Dupont Circle apartment, fits the mold of a quiet coder. Everyone thinks he’s consulting for nonprofits. In truth, he’s monitoring cyber-threats and managing encrypted drops. People glaze over when he talks tech, which is exactly the point.

     Steve and Ashley are everyone’s favorite suburban wedding photographers. Their globetrotting lifestyle fits their “business,” but their real work has nothing to do with rings and receptions. Whether it’s surveillance in Eastern Europe or recoveries in hostile regions, they vanish and reappear without raising suspicion.

     Even Stacey, who actually uses her real name, isn’t quite what she seems. Her condo in Bethesda fits the bill of a quiet cybersecurity analyst, but she’s tied to the NSA, juggling intelligence feeds and coordinating field ops while pretending to worry about quarterly reports.

     In the real CIA, operatives under official cover—those with diplomatic immunity—have some protection. But NOCs like Corey’s team? If they’re caught overseas, there’s no safety net. The U.S. government can legally disavow them. That risk doesn’t fade when they return home. Which is why the cover has to be airtight—fabricated social security numbers, degrees, tax filings, even fake social media if necessary.

     These covers aren’t costumes. They’re identities. Built to survive background checks, small talk, nosy neighbors, and years of double life. The operatives learn their covers so well, they can recite them under stress, jet lag, or even interrogation. That’s how real the fiction has to become.

     And that’s what makes the Corey Pearson – CIA Spymaster Short Story Series feel so real—it mirrors the truth. Corey and his team are what the CIA calls a sleeper cell. They blend into everyday life until something sets them in motion. A missing diplomat. A rogue nuke. A biological weapon. No briefings, no prep. Just a buzz on their secure phones, and they’re gone.

     Then, just like that, they’re back. Grocery runs. PTA meetings. A nod to the neighbor mowing his lawn.

     You might pass someone like Corey on your morning walk. You might work with Ana. Live across from Brad. You wouldn’t know. And that’s the whole point.

  

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and writes about the U.S. Intelligence Community (IC). He also writes the full-novel Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster series, which blends his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.

Off the Grid: How Ghost Phones Keep Spies Ahead—and What You Can Learn to Protect Your Privacy

When Going Dark Is the Only Option: CIA Operatives Stay Connected Through Ghost Phones—Unseen, Untraceable, Undeniably Real 

 

     They don’t ring. They don’t buzz. They don’t show up on any bill. No name, no contract, no paper trail. The CIA calls them “ghost phones.” Most people think of them as burner phones, but these are in another league entirely.

     In the spy game, silence isn’t just smart—it’s survival. Ghost phones are what the CIA turns to when things heat up. Not the cheap kind you buy at a gas station. These are carefully prepared, used fast, and wiped clean like they never existed.

     You make a call, maybe send a message, and that’s it. No repeats. No saving contacts. And definitely nothing linked to your actual phone. They’re either unregistered or tied to fake identities and always kept far from anything traceable.

     Want to stay off the grid? Rule one: don’t leave a digital trail. That’s what ghost phones are built for.

     And it’s not just theory. In 2003, the CIA grabbed Egyptian cleric Abu Omar off the streets of Milan in broad daylight. The job should’ve stayed quiet. But the agents made calls on traceable phones—some even called home, others called Langley. Italian investigators pieced it all together through cell tower data. Names, movements, connections—the whole op unraveled. That screwup forced the CIA to overhaul how ghost phones were used. From then on, things got a lot tighter.

     You see something similar unfold in my spy thriller Shadow War. CIA spymaster Corey Pearson goes rogue—sort of. He’s still loyal to the mission, but he doesn’t trust Langley anymore. Not with whispers of a mole crawling through its veins. So, Corey and his trusted ally Stacie break away, staying in contact only through repurposed CIA ghost phones—tech once used to track enemies, now flipped to keep them hidden from their own agency. Irony meets danger head-on.

     After Abu Omar, ghost phones got an upgrade. No more casual burners. They became precision gear. Phones stayed “air-gapped”—meaning offline—until it was time to use them. SIM cards came from overseas and got swapped out constantly. Every phone’s ID number (called an IMEI) was faked or rotated. And a key rule: never call the same person twice. No patterns, no links.

     Corey had to follow the same rules. He tells Stacie they need phones the CIA can’t track. “A Ghost Phone,” he says. “Encrypted, disposable, impossible to trace.” She knows they can’t just order that up without setting off alarms. So Corey taps an old contact—a former CIA operative he once worked with. The kind of guy who can get gear that technically doesn’t exist. That’s how far Corey’s willing to go.

     And here’s the thing—ghost phones aren’t just spy gear or Cold War leftovers. If you care about privacy, you can learn a few things. Your regular phone leaks everything—where you go, who you talk to, what apps you use. Want to keep a lower profile? Use a second phone. Don’t sign into Google or Apple. Don’t use your real name. Stick to encrypted apps that avoid big servers. And keep that phone air-gapped—completely offline—until you actually need it. No Wi-Fi, no Bluetooth, no exposure.

     The CIA learned that the hard way in Milan. But they also took lessons from the Cold War. In Moscow, Soviet engineer Adolf Tolkachev passed secrets to the CIA right under the KGB’s nose. The agency gave him a handheld device called “Discus”—a short-range, encrypted communicator. It let him send messages without ever meeting his handler face-to-face. It was the early version of the ghost phone. Quiet, secure, and easy to vanish.

     In Shadow War, Corey and Stacie use a more advanced version of that same tech. These ghost phones aren’t just for one-time use—they’re built to last, while staying untraceable. Air-gapped, encrypted, and locked with both voice and passcode. They even spoof their network ID so Wi-Fi routers can’t see them. When they need to talk, they drop encrypted messages inside ordinary-looking files on cloud drives. Old-school spycraft meets digital dead drop.

     Could the CIA use phones like this in real life? They already do. It’s called compartmentalization—keeping each piece of communication separate and deniable. These phones form a ghost network. Enough for real-time coordination, but invisible to the outside world.

     As Corey tells Stacie, “We’ll each have one. That’s how we stay connected—just us, no one else.” Sounds dramatic—but it’s exactly how real spycraft works.

     Whether you’re dodging foreign surveillance or just sick of tech companies watching your every move, there’s something to take from this: in a world that tracks everything, sometimes the smartest move is to vanish.

     And if you want to see how Corey Pearson and Stacie stay one step ahead of the agency that trained them, Shadow War is worth the ride. These ghosts don’t fade quietly.

 

Robert Morton is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers (AFIO) and writes about the U.S. Intelligence Community (IC). He also writes the full-novel Corey Pearson- CIA Spymaster series, which blends his knowledge of real-life intelligence operations with gripping fictional storytelling. His work offers readers an insider’s glimpse into the world of espionage, inspired by the complexities and high-stakes realities of the intelligence community.