even. At least that’s what he had decided at the time.
But then it dawned on him: It was also natural for her to suspect him of breaking into that computer, since she was the one who sent him off in that direction.
Was she onto him after all?
No. She couldn’t be.
Fung stared out his window. It was late, but there were still office lights on in the building across the street, though not many. Worker ants, just like him. He wondered how many of them were coding just like—
Fung jumped out of his skin at the sound of the knock on his glass door.
“Larry? Still here?” Watson leaned in.
“Yeah, sort of. Starting to run out of gas.”
She stepped into his office. “It’s Saturday night. You should be out enjoying yourself.”
“I am enjoying myself,” he said, pointing at a duplicate printer standing next to his desk. “I love this spy shit. Besides, look who’s talking.”
She snorted. “Guess we are the last two in the office.”
“Don’t you have a date or something?” Fung’s eyes raked over her body. If he wasn’t gay, he would definitely be into it.
“Hiking Mount Tam tomorrow with an old college buddy.”
“Is he cute?”
She almost blushed. “Very. You have any plans for tomorrow?”
“Just sleep. And a little Skype time with Torré.”
“That’s good to hear. Tell him I said hello.”
“I will.”
“Don’t stay too late. The bad guys gotta get their sleep, too.”
“I won’t. Good night.”
“Good night.” Watson turned and left the office, heading for the elevators. Fung watched her enter and turn around. She shot him one last furtive glance, but he caught it. She threw an awkward wave and forced a smile. Fung smiled back as the doors slid shut.
Bitch.
Thought you would never leave.
Time to buy some insurance.
He bailed out of his programming software and pulled up the building’s security cameras. There weren’t any located on his floor, where most of CloudServe’s security clearance work took place. CloudServe was as paranoid about camera hacking as anyone on the planet. But the cameras the building security deployed in the lobby showed that the two security guards on duty were both seated at the lobby desk, so no chance of them wandering in unexpectedly.
Fung dashed over to Watson’s office, careful to leave the lights off. He powered up her machine and pulled out the PassPrint device. It recognized her fingerprint, or, at least, interpreted one of the tens of thousands of fake ones scrolling through the device as one of her prints.
Once inside her computer, he accessed the mirroring program on the NRO computer. But unlike his own setup, there was no automatic log erasure, so his time spent there right now would be recorded as her time spent there.
He glanced around the darkened office and the well-lit floor outside. No signs of life. Good. He turned his attention back to the screen. Maybe there was something that CHIBI could use. But the only thing on the NRO screen at the moment was a conversation about an air drop of Romanian AK-47s to a Tuareg militia unit by the Italian Air Force that was to take place tomorrow.
Interesting, Fung thought. But since he wasn’t getting paid for it, he decided against recording it with the HD digital video camera hidden inside his big analog TAG Heuer watch. Even in broad daylight, it was the most natural gesture in the world for him to put his elbows on the desk and clasp his hands together as if in thought, studying a computer screen, and a simple matter of sliding a finger over and tapping the crown to begin recording, storing the files on a miniature one-terabyte drive embedded behind the face. If anyone were watching him, they would never suspect what he was up to, not that anyone ever did.
The immaculate watch was an awesome device sent to him by CHIBI, his Chinese hacker friend. Fung agreed with the enclosed instructions that the video watch was a far safer approach to data transfer than downloading files onto a suspicious thumb drive, wireless or otherwise. Besides, the fewer actions taken on a computer, the better. The NRO might have been installing their own security systems without him knowing about it.
Fung did, however, spend the next few minutes rooting around recent communiques between the CIA and other agencies, including assets in the field. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular; he just wanted to leave as many incriminating footprints as possible. If the whistle were ever blown, Watson would be the one with mud