Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [8]
Morris raised an eyebrow, his fleshy cheeks lifted in an elfin grin. "To UFO buffs and conspiracy theorists, Groom Lake is known by another name. It's called Area 51..."
Henderson interrupted him. "Okay, O'Brian, let's skip the little green men and focus on reality, shall we? Groom Lake is a top secret advanced research facility managed by the United States Air Force. The entire compound, including the runways, testing range and bombing range, is larger than the state of Delaware. The facility, located in the middle of the desert, just fifty miles outside the Las Vegas city limits, is both remote and well guarded..."
Tony Almeida shook his head. "Sounds like this is a problem for Air Force security."
"If only that were true," Henderson replied. "Unfortunately, Air Force Intelligence denies it has a problem. Claims this particular motherboard was incinerated six months ago. They have the paperwork to back up that claim, too."
Agent Almeida shifted in his chair. "But we have the motherboard, which means somebody's lying — or covering their asses."
"Once again, Agent Almeida has cut to the chase," Henderson said with a humorless grin. "And as it turns out, this isn't the only time the folks at Groom Lake have misplaced classified technology."
The Director of Covert Operations dropped a sealed Mylar evidence bag in the middle of the conference table. Inside was a black box the size of a cigarette pack, connected to what appeared to be a gold wedding band by a single, thread-thin insulated wire thirty inches long.
"This handy gadget was seized by the Las Vegas police six weeks ago, on the gambling floor at the Babylon Casino Hotel," Henderson declared. "The wedding band — made of copper, incidentally, with insulation inside to protect the wearer — is worn on the finger. The wire runs to the black box, which contains a classified Air Force digital scrambling chip."
"And this does what?" Jamey Farrell asked.
"The wearer tries his hand at the slots," Henderson said, mimicking the movements he was describing. "Our con man puts a coin into the slot, while placing his left hand on the side of the machine, like this. Electronic impulses are sent through the ring, into the slot machine. These impulses override the digital randomizer inside the slot's software. Suddenly you're winning one out of every five pulls instead of one in ten thousand..."
"Enough to cheat your way to a luxurious lifestyle, if you're playing fifty or hundred dollar slots and didn't get too greedy," O'Brian interjected.
Tony's dark eyes narrowed. "You're saying the chip inside this device came out of Groom Lake?"
Henderson nodded.
"Obviously the guy who was arrested using this device knows where he got it?" Tony demanded. "Why not pump him for the information?"
"Funny thing about that," Henderson replied. "The cheat's name was Dwayne Nardino, a small time racketeer out of Reno. Within hours of his arrest, Nardino was bailed out of jail — which cost someone close to fifty thousand dollars in cash. It was an amount they were willing to lose, because Nardino was discovered behind the wheel of his car the next morning, with two thirty-eight caliber slugs in the back of his head."
"Obviously someone didn't want Dwayne talking out of turn," Nina Myers said softly.
Henderson's movements became more animated, his gray eyes seemed alive for the first time. "Here's the interesting part. Two years ago the Drug Enforcement Agency identified Dwayne Nardino as a major distributor of Rojas cocaine. The DEA even has surveillance photos of Nardino meeting with the brothers at their hacienda in Colombia..."
"It's clear that someone at Groom Lake is peddling classified technology," said Jack. "Any theories about who or why?"
Henderson placed the palms of his hands on the table, his gaze sweeping everyone