“We’ll keep an eye on the news out there, see if it’s playing. It should. We were careful.”
“Okay, so we wait until our über-nerd has something. Thank you, gentlemen. Mr. Clark, can you stay for a minute?” Once Jack and Chavez were gone and the door was closed, Hendley said, “So?”
Clark shrugged. “He’s okay. Whether he’s got a taste for fieldwork only time will tell, but he’s dealing with it. He’s a smart kid.”
“What’s smart got to do with it?” Granger asked.
“Okay, then, he’s even-keeled. Just like his dad.”
“You’d take him out again?”
“In a New York minute, boss. He’s got good instincts, good observation skills, and learns damned fast. Plus, he’s got a little gray in him, too, which doesn’t hurt.”
“‘Gray’?” Hendley asked.
“The gray man,” Clark answered. “The best spooks know how to fade into the background: how they walk, how they dress, how they talk. You pass them on the street and you never notice them. Jack’s got that, and it’s natural.”
“More Ryan genetics?”
“Maybe. Don’t forget, he grew up under the microscope. Without even knowing it, he probably picked up a lot from his environment. Kids are savvy. Jack figured out early what those guys with dark suits and guns were doing hanging around all the time. Got his antennae working.”
“You think he’ll tell his dad?”
“About The Campus? I do. It’s nobody’s fault, really, but Jack’s living under his dad’s shadow—a damned big shadow at that. Once he figures out what he wants to do here, he’ll find a way to bring it up.”
With the help of a customs worker, Musa loaded the container into the rear of his rented Subaru Outback, then gave the inspector a wave and drove out the gate. Musa, of course, did not begin his long journey back to Calgary as he’d told the customs inspector, but rather drove fifteen miles east to the suburb of Surrey and pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express. He found a parking space directly outside his ground-floor room, then went inside and spent the remainder of the day napping and flipping from one inane television show to another until finally settling on CNN. His room was equipped with wireless Internet access, so he had to resist the urge to log on with his laptop and look for an update. He had a flash drive with the latest onetime pads and steganographic decryption software—neither of which he fully understood—but logging on to one of their satellite sites this late in the operation was unwise. Tomorrow at noon was the next scheduled check-in, and even that would be brief. Failing word to the contrary, he would assume the other pieces of the plan were falling into place.
Musa stared at the ceiling, let the babble of the television fade into the background, and tabbed through his mental checklist. He knew the distances and routes by heart, and his documentation would stand up to all but the most intense scrutiny. True, the customs inspector at the airport had been a hurdle, but they were nothing compared to security measures within the United States. There police were curious and thorough and hypervigilant. Then again, Musa reminded himself, in a matter of days both state and federal American security forces would find their plates very full indeed, and he would be at his destination.
He dozed until his watch alarm woke him at seven p.m. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Through the drawn curtains he could see the last remnants of daylight were fading. He clicked on the bedside lamp. On the television, one of the anchors was questioning some Wall Street type, hashing and rehashing the American economy. “Has it hit bottom?” the anchor was asking. “Is the country moving into recovery mode?” Idiots. America had yet to see the bottom. Soon.
Musa went into the bathroom, splashed water onto his face, then put on his jacket. He stood in the center of the room, thinking, then went back into the bathroom and pulled a washcloth from the towel rod. Moving backward, he wiped down every surface he had touched: counter, toilet seat, toilet handle, light switch. . . . He finished with the bedside table, the remote control, and the lamp. He had already paid for the room, so there was no need to stop at the front desk. The receptionist had told him he could leave the card key in the room, which he did, first wiping it down, then placing it on