to him ordered Yefremov to retrieve the container for examination. That would be done very speedily, because the container would have to be returned. They only had half of the spy team. The other half would come to pick it up.
It was the computer. It had to be. On turning it on, they found a maze of folders, but one of them, they quickly saw, had encrypted contents. The encryption program was one they hadn’t come across before. It was American, and its name was written down. They could do no more now. They lacked the proper disks to copy the covert file. That they could fix, and they could also copy the encryption program. Next, they’d have to plant a bugging device on the keyboard. In that way, they could use Sovorov’s own password code to crack the encrypted file. With that decision made, the burglary team left the premises.
The next part was virtually preordained. They followed the Mercedes using the same multi-car drill, but the break came when a dump truck—still the dominant form of life on the Moscow streets—was closest. The subject parked the German sedan and jumped out, took just enough time to affix a strip of paper tape to a lamppost, and hopped back into his car. He didn’t even bother to look around, as though he’d only done something routine.
But he hadn’t. He’d just posted a flag, a notice to someone unknown that the dead-drop had something in it. That someone would walk or drive past and see the tape and know where to go. So, they had to examine the capsule quickly and replace it, lest they warn the enemy spy that their little operation had been compromised. No, you didn’t do that until you had to, because things like this were like an unraveling sweater on a pretty woman. You didn’t stop pulling the yarn until the tits were exposed, the FSS commander told Provalov.
CHAPTER 24
Infanticide
What’s this?" the President asked at his morning intelligence briefing.
“A new SORGE source, this one’s called WARBLER. I’m afraid it’s not as good from an intelligence point of view, though it does tell us things about their ministers,” Dr. Goodley added with some feigned delicacy.
Whoever WARBLER was, Ryan saw, she—it was definitely a she—kept a very intimate diary. She, too, worked with this Minister Fang Gan, and, it appeared, he was enamored of her, and she, if not exactly enamored of him, certainly kept records of his activities. All of them, Ryan saw. It was enough to make his eyes go a little wide this early in the morning.
“Tell Mary Pat that she can sell this stuff to Hustler if she wants, but I really don’t need it at eight in the goddamned morning.”
“She included it to give you a feel for the source,” Ben explained. “The material isn’t as narrowly political as we’re getting from SONGBIRD, but MP thinks it tells us a lot about the guy’s character, which is useful, and also there’s some political content to go along with the information on Fang’s sex life. It would appear he’s a man of, uh ... well, commendable vigor, I guess, though the girl in question would clearly prefer a younger lover. It appears that she had one, but this Fang guy scared him off.”
“Possessive bastard,” Ryan saw, skimming that section. “Well, I guess at that age you hold on to what you need. Does this tell us anything?”
“Sir, it tells us something about the kind of people who make decisions over there. Here we call them sexual predators.”
“Of which we have a few in government service ourselves,” Ryan observed. The papers had just broken a story on a member of the Senate.
“At least not in this office,” Goodley told his President. He didn’t add anymore.
“Well, this President is married to a surgeon. She knows how to use sharp instruments,” Ryan said, with a wry grin. “So, the Taiwan stuff yesterday was just a ploy because they haven’t figured out how to address the trade issues yet?”
“So it would appear, and yes, that does seem a little odd. Also, MP thinks that they might have a low-level source in State. They know a little more than they could have gotten from the press, she thinks.”
“Oh, great,” Jack noted. “So what happened? The Japanese corporations sold their old sources to the Chinese?”
Goodley shrugged. “No telling at this time.”
“Have Mary Pat call Dan Murray about this. Counterespionage is the FBI’s department. Is this something we want to move