Empire. We actually might be able to be of some assistance."
Soraya considered. "I think that be can arranged."
"Excellent."
"It would have to be Eyes Only."
LaValle agreed at once.
"And in a controlled, highly restricted environment," Soraya added, following up her advantage. "The Typhon offices at CI would be perfect."
LaValle spread his hands. "Why not here?"
Soraya smiled. "I think not."
"Under the current climate I think you can understand why I'd be reluctant to meet you there."
"I take your point." Soraya thought for a moment. "If I did bring the intercepts here I'd have to have someone with me."
LaValle nodded vigorously. "Of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." He seemed far more pleased than Kendall, who looked at her as if he had caught sight of her from a battlefield trench.
"Frankly," Soraya said, "none of this makes me feel comfortable." She glanced around the room again.
"The building is swept three times a day for electronic bugs," LaValle pointed out. "Plus, we have all the most sophisticated surveillance systems, basically a computerized monitoring system that keeps track of the two thousand closed-circuit video cameras installed throughout the facility and grounds, compares them from second to second for any anomalies whatsoever. The DARPA software compares any anomalies against a database of more than a million images, makes real-time decisions in nanoseconds. For instance, a bird in flight would be ignored, a running figure wouldn't. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about."
"Right now, the only thing I worry about," Soraya said, "is you, Mr. LaValle."
"I understand completely." LaValle finished off his whiskey. "That's what this exercise is all about, Director. To engender trust between us. How else could we be expected to work together?"
General Kendall sent Soraya back to the district with one of his drivers. She had him drop her where she'd arranged to meet Kendall, outside what had once been the National Historical Wax Museum on E Street, SW. She waited until the black Ford had been swallowed up in traffic, then she turned away, walked all the way around the block at a normal pace. By the end of her circuit she was certain she was free of tags, NSA or otherwise. At that point, she sent a three-letter text message via her cell. Two minutes later, a young man on a motorcycle appeared. He wore jeans, a black leather jacket, a gleaming black helmet with the smoked faceplate lowered. He slowed, stopped just long enough for her to climb on behind him. Handing her a helmet, he waited for her to don it, then he zoomed off down the street.
I have several contacts within DARPA," Deron said. DARPA was an acronym for the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, an arm of the Department of Defense. "I have a working knowledge of the software architecture at the heart of the NSA's surveillance system." He shrugged. "This is one way I keep my edge."
"We gotta find a way around it or through it," Tyrone said.
He was still wearing his black leather jacket. His black helmet was on a table alongside the one he'd given Soraya for the high-speed trip here to Deron's house-lab. Soraya had met both Deron and Tyrone when Bourne had brought her to this nondescript olive-colored house just off 7th Street, NE.
"You must be joking, right?" Deron, a tall, slim, handsome man with skin the color of light cocoa, looked from one to the other. "Tell me you're joking."
"If we were joking we wouldn't be here." Soraya rubbed the heel of her hand against her temple as she sought to ignore the fierce headache that had began after her terrifying interview with LaValle and Kendall.
"It's just not possible." Deron put his hands on his hips. "That software is state-of-the-art. And two thousand CCTV cameras! Fuck me."
They sat on canvas chairs in his lab, a double-height room filled with all manner of monitors, keyboards, electronic systems whose functions were known only to Deron. Ranged around the wall were a number of paintings-all masterpieces by Titian, Seurat, Rembrandt, van Gogh. Water Lilies, Green Reflection, Left Part was Soraya's favorite. That all of them were painted by Deron in the atelier in the next room had stunned her the first time she was here. Now they simply filled her with wonder. How he had reproduced Monet's exact shade of cobalt blue was beyond her. It was hardly surprising that Bourne used Deron to forge all his ID documents, when in this day and age it was becoming increasingly difficult to do. Many forgers had