Terminal Compromise Part 39

"Ok, New York, but you report here when I need you. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Tyrone agreeably. "Deal?"

"Yes, except no with the press, this reporter of yours. Agreed?"

"Whatever," Tyrone told Bob.

From his hotel room, Tyrone Duncan called Scott Mason at his home. It was after 11P.M. EST, and Ty was feeling no pain after several hours of drinking and slipping $10 bills into garter belts at Camelot.

"RCA, Russian Division," Scott Mason answered his phone.

"Don't do that," Tyrone slurred. "That'll trigger the monitors."

"Oh, sorry, I thought you wanted the plans for the Stealth Bom- ber . . ."

"C'mon, man," Tyrone pleaded. "It's not worth the paperwork."

Scott choked through his laughter. "I'm watching a Honeymooner rerun. This better be good."

"We need to talk."

Thursday, October 15 Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

The stunning view of the Potomac was complete with a cold front that brought a wave of crisp and clear air; a much needed change from the brutal Indian Summer. His condo commanded a vista of lights that reflected the power to manipulate the world. Miles reveled in it. He and Perky lounged on his 8th. floor balcony after a wonderfully satisfying romp in his waterbed. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. s.e.x in a water- bed meant the expenditure of the least energy for the maximum pleasure. Ah, the beauty of applied mathematics.

Over the last four years Perky and Miles had seen each other on a periodically regular basis. She was a little more than one of Miles' s.e.xual release valves. She was a semi-sorta-kinda girl friend, but wouldn't have been if Miles had known that she re- ported their liaisons back to her boss. Alex was not interested in how she got her information. He only wanted to know if there were any digressions in Miles mission.

They sipped Grande Fine from oversized brandy gla.s.ses. The afterglow was magnificent and they saw no reason to detract from it with meaningless conversation. Her robe barely covered her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s and afforded no umbrage for the triangle between her legs. She wasn't ashamed of her nakedness, job or no job. She enjoyed her time with Miles. He asked for nothing from her but the obvious. Unlike the others who often asked her for solici- tous introductions to others who wielded power that might further their own particular lobby. Miles was honest, at least. He even let her spend the night upon occasion.

At 2 A.M., as they gazed over the reflections in the Potomac, Miles' phone warbled. He ignored the first 5 rings to Perky's annoyance.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Her unspoken thoughts said, do whatever you have to do to make that infernal noise top.

"Expecting a call?" Miles asked. His eyes were closed, convey- ing his internal peace. The phone rang again.

"Miles, at least get a machine." The phone rang a seventh time.

"f.u.c.k." He stood and his thick terrycloth robe swept behind him as he walked into the elegantly simple modern living room through the open gla.s.s doors. He put down his gla.s.s and answered on the 8th ring.

"It's late," he answered. His 'I don't give a s.h.i.+t' att.i.tude was evident.

"Mr. Foster, I am most displeased." It was h.o.m.osoto. Miles curled his lips in disgust as Perky looked in from her balcony vantage.

Miles breathed heavily into the phone. "What's wrong now?" Miles was trying to verbally show his distaste for such a late call.

"Our plans were explicit. Why have you deviated?" h.o.m.osoto was controlled but forthright.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" Miles sipped loudly from the brandy gla.s.s.

"I have read about the virus, the computer virus. The whole world in talking about it. Mr. Foster, you are early. I thought we had an understanding."

"Hey!" Foster yelled into the phone. "I don't know where you get off calling me at 2 in the morning, but you've got your head up your a.s.s."

"Excuse me Mr. Foster, I do not and could not execute such a motion. However, do not forget we did have an agreement."

h.o.m.osoto was insistent.

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about?" Miles was adamant.

"Since you insist on these games, Mr. Foster. I have read with great interest about the so called Columbus Day Virus. I believe you have made a great error in judgment."

Miles had just had about enough of this. "If you've got something to say, say it." he snorted into the phone.

"Mr. Foster. Did we not agree that the first major strike was not to occur until next year?"

"Yeah," Miles said offhandedly. He saw Perky open her eyes and look at him quizzically. He made a fist with his right hand and made an obscene motion near his crotch.

"Then, what is this premature event?" h.o.m.osoto persisted.

"Not mine." Miles looked out the balcony. Perky was invitingly licking her lips. Miles turned away to avoid distraction.

"Mr. Foster, I find it hard to believe that you are not responsi- ble."

"Tough s.h.i.+t."

"Excuse me?" h.o.m.osoto was taken aback.

"Simple. You are not the only person, and neither am I, the only person who has chosen to build viruses or destructive computer programs. We are merely taking a good idea and taking it to its logical conclusion as a pure form of offensive weaponsry. This one's not mine nor yours. It's someone elses."

The phone was silent for a few seconds. "You are saying there are others?" The childlike naivete was coming through over 12,000 miles of phone wire.

"Of course there are. This will probably help us."

"How do you mean?"

"There are a hundreds of viruses, but none as effective as the ones which we use. A lot of amateurs use them to build their egos. Jerusalem-B, Lehigh, Pakistani, Brain, Marijuana, they all have names. They have no purpose other than self aggrandizement.

So, we will be seeing more and more viruses appear that have nothing to do with our efforts. I do hope you will not call every time you hear of one. You know our dates. "

"Is there no chance for error?"

"Oh yes! There is, but it will be very isolated if it occurs.

Most viruses do not receive as much attention as this one, and probably won't until we are ready. And, as I recall we are not ready." Miles was tired of the timing for the hand holding session. Ms. Perkins was beckoning.

"I hope you are right. My plans must not be interfered with."

"Our plans," Miles corrected. "my a.s.s is on the line, too. I don't need you freaking every time the press reports a computer going on the fritz. It's gonna happen a lot."