David McCloskey

David McCloskey is the author of five books, including The Seventh Floor and The Persian. He is also cohost of the podcast The Rest Is Classified. A former CIA analyst, he worked at Langley and in field stations across the Middle East. He lives in Dallas, Texas.

How does The Seventh Floor explore the tension between loyalty to an organization and loyalty to the people who serve within it?
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This really is the crux of the novel, and I must admit it’s never fully resolved. The epigraph – The building doesn’t love you back – is how CIA officers express the tension: that you serve the organization for years or decades and when you’re gone, you’re gone, and usually quickly forgotten. The characters in the novel understand this, and yet all are torn, because after nearly thirty years working for a place what are you when you leave? It’s an open question without a satisfying answer.

What does the novel suggest about the difficulty of truly knowing the people closest to us, especially in a world built on secrecy and deception?

I’m fascinated by this question: what can we really know about the people closest to us? Because there are obviously limits, and sometimes it can be those nearest us who surprise us the most. The novel plays on this tension, and, as with the question above, never quite settles it. Though as we see from Procter and her friends, it can make for a great story because we as humans are fascinated by other people and their motivations – we want the secrets everyone’s got floating around in their heads – and in the spy business those secrets often remain maddeningly out of reach.

How do decades of shared experiences, from training to dangerous missions, shape the bonds between the CIA officers and complicate their search for the truth?

The bonds are tight, and particularly so because that work happens in a bubble of secrecy, where information is often withheld from friends and family and loved ones. So the connections formed in the espionage business, between case officer friends or between asset and handler, wind up being deep and often long-lasting. So it’s quite often very interesting when we see those bonds of trust strained or broken, as happens in The Seventh Floor.

In what ways does Artemis Procter’s journey challenge ideas about trust, reputation, and redemption after being blamed for a professional failure?

I think Artemis’s journey shows that redemption is possible, but that it often comes at a terrible price. It also shows that penance is real: there is a cost to redeeming yourself. It does not happen for free.

How does the presence of a mole within the CIA transform personal relationships into a high stakes investigation of betrayal?

A mole burrowed inside an intelligence agency, particularly one at the highest levels, turns the place inside out and erodes the bonds of trust that make the spy business function. It’s completely world shattering.

What does the novel reveal about the emotional cost of working in an environment where deception is not only necessary but part of daily life?

I think this is one of the most common misconceptions about the spy business. It’s paradoxically a trade centered on deception in which trust and good judgment are highly prized. So quite often the emotional cost comes from having to exclude others – friends, family, loved ones – from the inner workings of that secret world. Longtime Agency officers are usually not torn up about the work they did, but rather the toll it took on those they love the most.

How does the international setting, moving from Langley to Moscow to Paris, expand the story’s exploration of power, politics, and hidden agendas?

I love a good international romp, and I like showing how the spy business works outside of Langley, so it was fun for example to set scenes inside Russia’s intelligence service. I think a good spy story or international thriller helps us understand something of how the world works, and to make that happen you usually need to travel around the world a bit in the pages.

What does the title The Seventh Floor symbolize about ambition, influence, and the inner workings of institutions built around secrecy?

I think – or, at least, hope -  that it delivers an honest portrayal of the moral code and ethic that guides these places. And also that it normalizes them a bit. Because after all, these are institutions that, despite being cloaked in secrecy, are populated by people who are usually quite like us. 

How does the story examine the idea of loving an organization or mission that may not always protect or value the individuals who dedicate their lives to it?

Again I think the novel shows the cost inflicted on people who remain loyal to institutions that do not love them back. There is an asymmetry there, and it fuels a deep tension inside every character in the novel.

At its core, what is the novel asking about the nature of trust: is it built through shared history, proven through actions, or ultimately vulnerable to betrayal?
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All of the above. The novel is about a group of friends who are dealing with betrayal in their midst. A group of people who have built up a shared sense of trust and purpose by working together over the years, sacrificing for each other, and maintaining an intimacy with one another that is all the more painful because we know, from the beginning of the story, that one of them is a traitor. And a traitor not just to CIA or the US but a traitor to the ideals of friendship and camaraderie of this close-knit group.

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Website: https://www.davidmccloskeybooks.com/the-seventh-floor
Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/mccloskeybooks/ 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/davidmccloskeybooks​
Podcast: https://therestisclassified.com/​

Purchase the book here: 
https://wwnorton.com/books/the-seventh-floor