At the height of the Cold War, Jonna Mendez was head of the CIA’s disguise division, a branch of the agency tasked with equipping secret agents operating abroad.
In 1991, the department was developing remarkably realistic latex masks, and Mendez was eager to deploy his sophisticated new spy technology where it was needed most: Soviet Russia.
But first, Mendez needed to prove that his deceptions would work under the most dangerous conditions.
So, he organized the definitive test.
Could he fool White House security and the president of the United States himself?
Excerpted from ‘In True Face: A Woman’s Life in the CIA, Unmasked’
In 1989, our fully animated gender and ethnic change mask was ready for the runway.
I put on a man’s suit and put on a black man’s mask, adding matching tight-fitting latex gloves that were precisely painted the same skin color, including the veins.
Exercises like this, if successful, provided proof of concept.
Could I change my gender convincingly? What about skin color? Can I change both at the same time?
I had already disguised a Caucasian field officer as an African student in a live operation, but this was new mask technology and we were always testing new scenarios and pushing the proverbial scope further than before.
Once I was fully disguised, someone escorted me to the office of Frank Anderson, our office manager. They introduced me as a new contractor. Nodding, I walked towards his desk but said nothing, aware that he didn’t look like a man.
Extending my hand, I shook his, which I knew would be the moment of my revelation. As soon as she felt the latex on my right hand, I took off the mask with my left. His eyes lit up as I transformed back into myself.
He loved it and insisted we model it for CIA Director Judge William Webster.
A week later, when we walked into Webster’s offices on the seventh floor of CIA headquarters, I was more than a little nervous.
Anderson had always supported our costume program, but I had not yet met Judge Webster, former director of the FBI.
Anderson, a tall, broad-shouldered executive, entered first, followed by a 5-foot-7 black man wearing a suit and tie.
Jonna Mendez met with President HW Bush in the Oval Office, wearing one of the most sophisticated face masks in the costume department.
After Jonna took off his mask, the president’s eyes were almost glowing as he asked questions.
The ‘Becky’ mask that fooled the president… and the White House security
‘Sir,’ said Frank, ‘I would like to introduce you to…’
His voice trailed off as, again wearing the latex gloves, I reached out my hand.
As soon as I took off my mask, Judge Webster’s face lit up like that of an enthusiastic little child.
Amazed by the mask’s ability to change ethnicity and gender, he and Frank decided we needed to show this new ability to the president, George HW Bush.
I hesitated before speaking, but I had to.
“I don’t think I can wear this in the White House,” I said. “Even though it’s realistic and well-animated, I can’t walk or talk like a black man. The Secret Service will take one look at me, ask me a question, and it’ll be over.
Anderson and Judge Webster acknowledged my point. We decided that we would give a female mask to the president.
Immediately dismissed from their meeting, I returned to my office and the costume labs with the order to prepare another mask. However, this wouldn’t be just any mask. It would have to be the best mask we’ve ever made.
Our first task was to choose a face. In the creation of each mask, the sculptor played a fundamental role. We specify gender, ethnicity, age range, and sometimes even a specific identity, but ultimately the sculptor’s hands shaped the final product.
At that time, one of our best sculptors, a young Latina named Becky, was preparing to move to California.
As a parting gift and a kind of inside joke, he decided to give me his face. She knew that the dimensions of her face would easily fit mine and it was a perfect solution. Younger! Prettier! No woman in her right mind would refuse that.
We were officially racing against the clock and a lot depended on my meeting with the President. To get this new mask into production and into the hands of field officers, we needed additional funding. Getting support from the White House was critical, and the meeting date was quickly approaching.
Five days later I was in our lab in Langley putting the finishing touches on ‘Becky’.
Jonna working in a photo lab in Europe early in her CIA career.
Jonna Mendez was once the CIA’s master of disguise, helping agents hide their identities and blend in on dangerous spy missions abroad.
The mask was a masterpiece.
Our meeting with the President was a success!
Two days after that, I entered the White House, passing through security behind Judge Webster. However, we were stuck waiting in the president’s outer office. Their previous meeting was long.
I tried to disappear into the woods, overcome by the usual paranoia I felt when wearing a new mask in public for the first time.
This was a fairly high-level release of a mask we’d never tested in the field, and I nervously bit the tip of a pencil as I pretended to study my notes. The delay seemed to drag on without end. I was worried that even if the mask didn’t give me away, my nerves would.
Confidence is everything, I reminded myself, eagerly awaiting the big moment.
When we were finally called to enter the Oval Office, we walked inside, where chairs were arranged in a horseshoe shape in front of the President’s desk.
Knowing that I would be the first to speak, Judge Webster directed me to sit in the far right chair. As soon as we sat down, we got to work.
Webster introduced me by name and explained that he was here to show the President some of the agency’s new disguise capabilities. I took out the folder he had brought, which contained photographs of the president himself in disguise, from when he was director of the CIA.
After explaining to him that our disguise capabilities had improved immensely since his time at the agency, I began listing all the ways we could use them to evade the KGB.
We could convincingly disguise an officer, even create a clone of an officer – a twin! We could change an officer’s ethnicity or gender or “borrow” another person’s identity if necessary.
This technology would change the way we could work against KGB harassment on the streets of Moscow.
As I spoke, I noticed that the President was looking at the area at my feet, probably looking for a bag containing our new costumes. When I told him I was wearing it, I raised a hand to start taking it off.
Before I had even touched my mask, he stood up from his chair. ‘Wait. Wait a minute, don’t take it off yet,’ he said as he walked around me, looking at my face and neck.
At that moment, he knew he was wearing something fake. A false nose? A prosthesis?
He tilted his head, no doubt searching for the seams of whatever he was wearing. When he seemed satisfied, I raised my hand again and took off my mask.
Some of Jonna’s costume department tricks from the end of the cold war
A Tropel subminiature camera, hidden in a pen: one of the many devices Jonna worked on
Suddenly charismatic and intensely curious, his eyes almost sparkled when he asked questions.
As the president graced me with his attention, Dan Quayle tiptoed into the meeting, clearly not amused that he had missed the moment of my big reveal.
But as my exchange with the president came to a close, it seemed clear that we would get the support of the men in this room to implement our new mask.
Once I returned to the outer office, I was approached by the White House photographer who had been at the meeting taking pictures.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘what did you do there?’
“I thought you were taking pictures of him,” I replied.
‘Well, I did, but what was that?’
“I can’t talk about that,” I said after a brief pause. “He’s classified.”
I never sought copies of those photographs and did not receive them until ten years later.
When I did so, the package included a photo of me wearing the mask and another of me talking while holding it in front of me…except the mask is airbrushed in the second photo.
That’s the one I have hanging in my office.
It seems like I’m lecturing the President, with my hand in the air, and when my friends look at her and ask me what I’m saying, I always respond the same way: ‘I can’t talk about that. It’s classified.’
Excerpted from In True Face: The life of a woman in the CIA, Unmasked by Jonna Méndez with Wyndham Wood. Copyright © 2024. Available from PublicAffairs, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.