Terminal Compromise Part 150

"I saved a little and made prudent investments," Alex lied and Templer knew it. No need to push the point.

"How well did Sir George do? He wouldn't tell us."

Alex stopped in his tracks and glared at Martin with a blank emotionless expression for several seconds until his deep set brown eyes began to twinkle. A knowing smile and nod of recog- nition of accomplishment followed, telling Martin he had hit a home run. "You're good. Very good." They both began walking again, as if on cue. "For future edification, how did you find him?"

"Them. Sir George was the most helpful, though."

"I remember him. Real character, kind of helpless but with the gift of gab." Alex seemed unconcerned that any of his network had been discovered. "He talked?"

"Second rate criminal. Definitely deportable."

"And you made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"Something like that," Templer said coyly. "Let's just say he prefers the vineyards of California to the prisons in England."

Alex nodded in understanding. "How'd you find him?"

"Telephone records."

"That's impossible," Alex said, shrugging off Martin's answer.

"Never underestimate the power of silicon," Martin said crypti- cally.

"Computers? No way," Alex said defiantly. "Every year there are almost 40 billion calls made within the United States alone.

There's no way to trace that many calls."

"Who needs to trace?" Templer enjoyed the joust. Thus far.

"The phone company is kind enough to keep records of every call made. Both local and long distance. They're all rather com- plete. From what number, to what number, if it's forwarded, to what number and at what time and for how long. They also tell us if the calls were voice, fax, or other types of communications.

It even identifies telephone connections that use encryption.

Believe me, those are flagged right off."

"You monitor every conversation? I thought it was just the overseas calls. That's incredible. Incredibly illegal."

"But necessary. The threat of terrorism inside the United States has reached unacceptable levels, and we had the capability. It was just a matter of flipping the switch."

"Since when can you do that?" Alex asked, stunned that he had overlooked, or underestimated a piece of the equation.

"Since the phone company computers were connected to the Fort.

And, I guarantee you, it's not something they want advertised,"

Martin said in a low voice. "Did you f.u.c.k up?" They had circled the Tower twice and stopped back where they started, overlooking the Seine.

Alex's professional composure returned as they leaned over the Tower's railing.

"I guess I wasn't as right as I usually am," he snickered.

Templer followed suit. "How many did you get?"

"How many are there?"

"That would be telling," Alex said coyly.

"I a.s.sume, then, that you would be averse to helping us out of our current dilemma." Being friends with potential adversaries made this part of the job all the more difficult.

"Well," Alex said turning his head toward Martin. "I guess I could be talked into one more job, just one, if the price was right."

Templer shook his head. "That's not the right answer."

Alex was taken off guard by the sullenness in Martin's voice.

"Right answer? There are no right and wrongs in our business.

Only shades of gray. You know that. We ride a fence, and the winds blow back and forth. It's not personal."

Martin straightened up and put both hands deep into the pockets of his London Fog. "Among the professionals, yes. But Sir George and his cronies, and you by default, broke the rules.

Civilians are off limits. We were hoping that you would want to help."

Alex ignored the second request. "I won't do it again. I prom- ise," he said haughtily.

"Is there anything I can say that will make you reconsider?

Anything at all?" Martin implored.

"No," Alex said. "Unless we can discuss an equitable arrange- ment."

Martin took his hands out of his pockets and said, "I don't think that will work. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

Martin quickly moved his right hand up to Alex's neck and touched it briefly. Alex reached up and slapped his neck as terror overtook his face. He grabbed Martin's arm and twisted it with his free hand to expose a small needle tipped dart projecting from a ring on one finger. Templer wrested his arm free from Alex's weakening clutch and tore off the ring, tossing it away from the Tower.

Alex weakened further as he leaned both hands on the railing to steady himself. His mouth gaped wide, intense fear and utter disbelief competing for control of his facial muscles. Martin ignored his collapsing adversary and walked deliberately to the open elevator which provided escape down to street level. Before the doors had closed, Templer saw a crowd converge over the crumpled body of Alexander Spiradon.

Martin Templer crossed the Seine and performed evasive maneuvers to make sure he was not being followed. The cleansing process took about three hours. He flagged down a taxi and the most uncooperative driver refused to acknowledge he understood that the destination was the American Emba.s.sy on Gabriel. Only when Templer flashed a 100 Franc note did the driver's English im- prove.

Templer showed his CIA credentials to the Marine Sergeant at the security desk, and told him he needed access to a secure communi- cations channel to Was.h.i.+ngton.

After his ident.i.ty was verified, Templer was permitted to send his message. It was electronically addressed to his superiors at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

PLATO COULDN'T COME OUT AND PLAY.

UNFORTUNATE STROKE INTERRUPTED THE INTERVIEW.

Chapter 30

Monday, March 22 National Security Agency

He had two separate offices, each with a unique character. One ultra modern and sleek, the other befitting a country gentleman.

The two were connected by a large anteroom that also provided immediate access and departure by a private elevator and escape stairs. He could hold two meetings at once as was occasionally required in his position as DIRNSA, Director, National Security Agency. Each office had its own secretary and private entrance, selected for use depending upon whom was expected.

The meeting in the nouveau office was winding down to a close and the conversation had been reduced to friendly banter. Marvin Jacobs had brought in three of his senior advisors who were coordinating the ma.s.sive a.n.a.lytical computing power of the NSA with the extraordinary volume of raw data that all of the 5ESS switches downloaded daily.