Tom Clancy's op-centre_ mirror image - Tom Clancy [42]
The women were followed in by Paul Hood and a hustling Lowell Coffey. Even before the attorney was in, Rodgers had pressed a button in the side of the table and the heavy door had begun to shut.
The small room was lit by fluorescent lights; on the wall across from where Rodgers was sitting, the large, digital countdown clock was frozen at zero. Whenever there was a crisis with a timetable, the clock was set and a similar read-out appeared in every office-- just so there was no mistake about when things had to be done.
The walls, floor, door, and ceiling of the Tank were all covered with mottled gray and black, sound-absorbing Acoustix. Behind this were several layers of cork, a foot of concrete, and more Acoustix. Buried in the concrete, on all six sides of the room, were wire grids that generated vascillating audio waves; no electronic information could enter or leave the room without being completely and irreparably distorted.
Hood sat at the head of the table. To his right, on a small extension, were a monitor and computer keyboard and telephone hookup. A tiny fiber-optic camera was attached to the top of the monitor and allowed him to see anyone on-screen who had a similar setup.
When the door was shut, Paul said, "I know we all feel sick about what happened yesterday, so there's no need to comment further about that. I want to thank Mike for the incredible job he did. He'll be telling you about that. In case you haven't already heard, there's more to this story than has been on the news. I've come straight from a plane flight and a quick shower, so I'm as eager to hear what he has to say as you are. I'd like to point out, though, that everything you'll be hearing is Priority One clearance. When we leave here, both Mike and I or Mike and Martha have to sign off on anyone less than that who needs to be told." Hood looked at Rodgers. "Mike?"
Rodgers thanked Hood, then briefed the team on what had happened in the Oval Office. He told them that Striker had departed from Andrews at 4:47 A.m. and would arrive in Helsinki around 8:50 P.M, local time.
"Lowell," he said, "where are we on the Finnish Ambassador?"
"He's given me a temporary okay," the attorney said. "He just needs a rubber stamp from the Pesident."
"When will we have that?"
"This morning," Coffey replied.
Rodgers looked at his watch. "It's already four in the afternoon over there. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. They start late and work late over there. No one makes any high-level decisions until after lunch."
Rodgers looked from Coffey to Darrell McCaskey. "Assuming that we get what we want from the Finnish government, is there any way Interpol can help us with intelligence from St. Petersburg?"
"That depends. You mean the Hermitage?"
Rodgers nodded.
"Do I tell them about the English agent who was killed there the other day?"
Rodgers looked at Hood. "DI6 lost a man there trying to eavesdrop on the TV studio."
"Are we asking Interpol to do essentially the same kind of reconnaissance?" Hood asked.
Rodgers nodded again.
"Then tell them about the Englishman," Hood said.
"I'm sure there's a hotdog who'll be willing to take them on."
"What about at the border?" Rodgers asked. "If we have to go by land, is there any way the Finns can sneak our team across?"
"I know someone in the Ministry of Defense," McCaskey said, "and I'll see what I can wangle. Just understand, Mike, there are less than four thousand effectives in the border guard. They don't exactly want to go pissing-off the Russians."
"Understood," the Deputy Director said, then turned to Matt Stoll. The portly computer expert was tapping his steepled fingers together.
"Matt," Rodgers said, "I want you to use your computer contacts to find out if the Russians have been ordering or stockpiling anything out of the ordinary. Or if any of their top tech people have relocated to St. Petersburg in the last year."
"Those guys are pretty tight-lipped," Stoll said. "I mean, it's not