Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [59]
Outside was balmy, the sky overhead a velvet black. The men strolled slowly along a pathway that wove through the carefully manicured plants, subtly lit by lights rising no higher than their ankles. “Despite its name, my company is international in scope and not limited to chemicals, though we are one of the largest chemical importers into the kingdom. I’m assuming you’ve never heard of it?”
When Carlton shook his head no, Fajer explained how he’d assumed command of his father’s company following Cambridge. “These are difficult times for any business,” he said, “as I’m sure you know. Key to the success of an international company is information. You understand?”
“Of course. Knowing what is real and what is not, what is coming, is vital in most human endeavors.”
“Please, let us sit.” They sat on a carved bench beside a gurgling fountain. “Mr. Carlton, I have great respect for America and for Americans, as I have for our British friends. Though I do business with the French, I must confess that I have never understood them. No one in the world, in my opinion, has better information than the CIA.” Carlton felt his heart jump. “Information, after all, is their business. You must learn all kinds of things not necessary to America’s national security, but information that could be of enormous help to someone in my position.”
Carlton maintained a poker face as he said, “What are you saying? And what’s this about the CIA? Spies, aren’t they?”
“Come, Mr. Carlton. We are both adults. I have my sources. You are the deputy director for—what do you call it?—the Company. A man in such a position is important, and very valuable to someone like me.”
Carlton took a pull of his cigar, blew the smoke out, then had a sip of the port. He drew on the cigar again before speaking. “Actually, I’m a manager, hardly a deputy director, but you have the rest right.”
Late the next morning, Carlton boarded his plane for the flight to Athens, sitting once again next to Houser. “Didn’t see you last night,” the man said.
“Had a touch of the flu, or perhaps it was just fatigue from all the traveling.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much. I can’t wait to get out of here.” Once the plane was well over the Mediterranean, Houser leaned close and in a conspiratorial voice said, “Did you get what you came for?”
Carlton thought a moment before answering, “I’d say so, yes.”
27
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
US-CERT SECURITY OPERATIONS
SUNDAY, AUGUST 20
8:01 A.M.
Daryl Haugen entered the restored redbrick building through the side entrance, swiping her access card at the door. Inside, she stopped at the security desk, signed her name, logged the time, and presented her identification to one of the three uniformed DHS guards. She’d come straight from her morning workout, having only taken time to shower and change into casual clothes before coming to her office.
“Thank you, Ms. Haugen,” a stone-faced guard said.
Daryl smiled, passed through the security scan, and set off for the elevator. All three men watched her retreating figure with mute approval.
The Lee Building had been constructed just before World War I. In its day it was state-of-the-art, featuring larger windows than previously used and massively thick brick walls since no steel support was used in the construction. Housing various private, state, and finally federal agencies of declining significance over the decades, it had undergone a major renovation in the 1980s and now was the location for her Computer Infrastructure Security Unit, or CISU.
Since discovering Superphreak, Daryl’s staff of twenty-three variously skilled Internet and computer experts, most of whom she’d hired herself, had been on twelve-hour shifts, seven days a week.