The Teeth of the Tiger - Tom Clancy [47]
"So, The Campus just makes money off their fantasy world?"
"You got it. You know, I hate soap operas. Do you know why I hate them?" He got a blank look. "Jack, it's because they reflect reality so precisely. Real life, even at this level, is full of petty bullshit and egos. It isn't love that makes the world go 'round. It isn't even money. It's bullshit."
"Hey, I've heard cynicism in my time, but-"
Granger cut him off with a raised hand. "Not cynicism. Human nature. The one thing that hasn't changed in ten thousand years of recorded history. I wonder if it ever will. Oh, sure, there's the good part of human nature, too: nobility, charity, self-sacrifice, even courage in some cases-and love. Love counts. It counts a lot. But along with it comes envy, covetousness, greed, all the seven deadly sins. Maybe Jesus knew what He was talking about, eh?"
"Is this philosophy or theology?" I thought this was supposed to be the intelligence business, the young Ryan thought.
"I turn fifty next week. Too soon old and too late smart. Some cowboy said that a hundred or so years ago." Granger smiled. "Problem is, you're too damned old when you realize it to be able to do anything about it."
"What would you do, start a new religion?"
Granger had himself a good laugh as he turned to refill his coffee cup from his personal Gevalia machine. "No, none of the bushes around my house burn. The trouble with thinking deep thoughts is that you still have to cut the grass, and put food on the table. And, in our case, protect our country."
"So, what do we do about this German thing?"
Granger gave the intercept another look and thought for a second. "Nothing, not right now, but we remember that Dieter has earned a point or two with Claude, which he may cash in on in six months or so. The Euro is still too new to see how it's going to play out. The French think that the financial leadership of Europe will slide to Paris. The Germans think it'll go to Berlin. In fact, it'll go to the country with the strongest economy, the most efficient workforce. That won't be France. They have pretty good engineers, but their population isn't as well organized as the Germans are. If I had to bet, I'd bet on Berlin."
"The French won't like that."
"That's a fact, Jack. That's a fact," Granger repeated. "What the hell. The French have nukes, and the Germans don't-for now, anyway."
"You serious?" the young Ryan demanded.
A smile. "No."
"They taught us some of that at Quantico," Dominic said. They were in a medium-sized shopping mall that catered to the college crowd due to the proximity of UVA.
"What did they say?" Brian asked.
"Don't stay in the same place relative to your subject. Try to alter your appearance-sunglasses, like that. Wigs if they're available. Reversible jackets. Don't stare at him, but don't turn away if he looks at you. It's a lot better if it's more than one agent on a target. One man can't track a trained adversary for very long without being made. A trained subject is hard to tail under the best of circumstances. That's why the big offices have the SSGs, Special Surveillance Groups. They're FBI employees, but they're not sworn, and they don't carry guns. Some guys call them the Baker Street Irregulars, as in Sherlock Holmes. They look like anything except a cop, street people-bums-workers in coveralls. They can be dirty. They can be panhandlers. I met some at the New York Field Office once, they work OC and FCI-Organized crime and foreign counterintelligence. They're pros, but they're the most unlikely-looking damn pros you ever want to meet."
"Hardworking people like that?" Brian asked his brother. "Surveillance, I mean."
"Never tried it myself, but from what I've heard, it takes a lot of manpower, like fifteen or twenty, to work one subject, plus cars, plus aircraft-and