Patriot games - Tom Clancy [225]
"But this one's important." Cantor drank his milk and looked across the table. "What are you going to do?"
"Ask me after the baby is born." Ryan didn't want to dwell on this question.
"The Agency needs people like you, Jack. You've got a feel for things. You don't think and act like a bureaucrat. You say what you think. Not everyone in this building does that, and that's why the Admiral likes you."
"Hell, I haven't talked to him since-"
"He knows what you're doing." Cantor smiled.
"Oh." Ryan understood. "So that's it."
"That's right. The old man really wants you, Jack. You still don't know how important that photo you tripped over was, do you?"
"All I did was show it to you, Marty," Ryan protested. "You're the one who really made the connection."
"You did exactly the right thing, exactly what an analyst is supposed to do. There was more brains in that than you know. You have a gift for this sort of work. If you can't see it, I can." Cantor examined the lasagna and winced. How could anybody eat that greasy poison? "Two years from now you'll be ready for my job."
"One bridge at a time, Marty." They let it go at that.
An hour later Ryan was back in his office. Cantor came in.
"Another pep talk?" Jack smiled. Full-court press time
"We have a picture of a suspected ULA member and it's only a week old. We got it in from London a couple of hours ago."
"Dennis Cooley." Ryan examined it and laughed. "He looks like a real wimp. What's the story?"
Cantor explained. "Bad luck for the Brits, but maybe good luck for us. Look at the picture again and tell me something important."
"You mean he's lost most of his hair. Oh! We can ID the guy if he turns up at one of the camps. None of the other people are bald."
"You got it. And the boss just cleared you for something. There's an op laid on for Camp -18."
"What kind?"
"The kind you watched before. Is that still bothering you?"
"No, not really." What bothers me is that it doesn't bother me, Ryan thought. Maybe it should "Not with these guys, I don't. When?"
"I can't tell you, but soon."
"So why did you let me know-nice one, Marty. Not very subtle, though. Does the Admiral want me to stay that bad?"
"Draw your own conclusions."
An hour after that the photo expert was back. Another satellite had passed over the camp at 2208 local time. The infrared image showed eight people standing at line on the firing range. Bright tongues of flame marked two of the shapes. They were firing their weapons at night, and there were now at least eight of them there.
"What happened?" O'Donnell asked. He'd met Cooley at the airport. A cutout had gotten word out that Cooley was on the run, but the reason for it had had to wait until now.
"There was a bug in my shop."
"You're sure?" O'Donnell asked.
Cooley handed it over. The wire had been in his pocket for thirty hours. O'Donnell pulled the Toyota Land Cruiser over to examine it.
"Marconi make these for intelligence use. Quite sensitive. How long might it have been there?"
Cooley could not remember having anyone go into his back room unsupervised. "I've no idea."
O'Donnell put the vehicle back into gear, heading out into the desert. He pondered the question for over a mile. Something had gone wrong, but what ?
"Did you ever think you were being followed?"
"Never."
"How closely did you check, Dennis?" Cooley hesitated, and O'Donnell took this for an answer. "Dennis, did you ever break tradecraft-ever?"
"No, Kevin, of course not. It isn't possible that-for God's sake, Kevin, it's been weeks since I've been in contact with Watkins."
"Since your last trip to Cork." O'Donnell squinted in the bright sun.
"Yes, that's right. You had a security man watching me then-was there anyone following me?"
"If there were, he must have been a damnably clever one, and he could not have been too close " The other possibility that O'Donnell was, considering, of course, was that Cooley had turned traitor. But if he'd done that, he wouldn't have come here, would he? the chief