Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [295]
The addressee turned in surprise when he heard the whir of his fax printing out a message. It had to be official, because only half a dozen people knew that private line. (It never occurred to him that the telephone company's computer knew about it, too.) He finished what he was doing before reaching over for the message.
What the hell is NIMBUS? he wondered. Whatever it was, it was eyes-only to him, and therefore he started to read the message. He was sipping his third cup of morning coffee while he did so, and was fortunate that his cough deposited some of it onto his desk and not his trousers.
Cathy Ryan was nothing if not punctual. The phone in the guest room rang at precisely 8:30. Jack's head jerked off the pillow as though from an electric shock, and his hand reached out to grab the offensive instrument.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Jack," his wife said brightly. "What's the problem with you?"
"I had to stay up late with some work. Did you take the other thing with you?"
"Yes, what's the -"
Jack cut her off. "I know what it says, babe. Could you just make the call? It's important." Dr. Caroline Ryan was also bright enough to catch the meaning of what he said.
"Okay, Jack. How do you feel?"
"Awful. But I have work to do."
"So do I, honey. 'Bye."
"Yeah." Jack hung up and commanded himself to get out of the bed. First a shower, he told himself.
Cathy was on her way to Surgery, and had to hurry. She lifted her office phone and called the proper number on the hospital's D.C. line. It rang only once.
"Dan Murray."
"Dan, this is Cathy Ryan."
"Morning! What can I do for you this fine day, Doctor?"
"Jack said to tell you that he'd be in to see you just after ten. He wants you to let him park in the drive-through, and he said to tell you that the folks down the hall aren't supposed to know. I don't know what that means, but that's what he told me to say." Cathy didn't know whether to be amused or not. Jack did like to play funny little games - she thought they were pretty dumb little games - with people who shared his clearances, and wondered if this was some sort of joke or not. Jack especially liked to play games with his FBI friend.
"Okay, Cath', I'll take care of that."
"I have to run off to fix somebody's eyeball. Say hi to Liz for me."
"Will do. Have a good one."
Murray hung up with a puzzled look on his face. Folks down the hall aren't supposed to know. "The folks down the hall" was a phrase Murray had used the first time they'd met, in St. Thomas's Hospital in London when Dan had been the legal attaché at the U.S. Embassy on Grosvenor Square. The folks down the hall were CIA.
But Ryan was one of the top six people at Langley, arguably one of the top three.
What the hell did that mean?
"Hmph." He called his secretary and had her notify the security guards to allow Ryan into the driveway that passed under the main entrance to the Hoover Building. Whatever it meant, he could wait.
Clark arrived at Langley at nine that morning. He didn't have a security pass - not the sort of thing you carry into the field - and had to use a code-word to get through the main gate, which seemed very conspiratorial indeed. He parked in the visitors' lot - CIA has one of those - and walked in the main entrance, heading immediately to the left where he quickly got what looked like a visitor's badge which, however, worked just fine in the electronically controlled