The tone generator which George carried put out a known signal which would trip sound-activated bugs and cause them to broadcast. Christophe swept up and down as much of the electromagnetic spectrum as his receiver covered, unless and until he picked up the tone signal in his earphones. At that point, George could lower the intensity of the generator and move it around the room until the bug was physically located.
If the bugging device was combined directly with a tape recorder, then there was no signal to pick up on the receiver – but that sort of installation required that someone enter the room at regular intervals to change tapes, and it very considerably increased the bulk of the bugging unit. Similarly, a hardwired bug was possible but impractical in a hotel room like this because of the holes that had to be drilled through walls between the bug and the listening post. No sweep could be perfect, but this team appeared to know what it was doing – especially if the piece of hardware in a separate case by the door was the spectrum analyzer Kelly assumed it was.
“Christophe, when you get an order from me you do it,” Elaine said in a deadly voice to the man at least a foot taller than she was.
Kelly walked over to the window, smiling, leaving behind him the suitcase and the incident developing in the room.
There was more to the woman’s reaction than her authority, though there was that too. She’d picked up on the way Kelly felt about cigarette smoke – surely that wasn’t in his psychiatric profile – and she had a not unreasonable concern that the veteran would use that as the excuse to void his grudging acquiescence to the wishes of a government he hated.
Hell, nobody’d twisted Kelly’s arm; he was a big boy. He’d go through with the deal, whatever that meant and whatever roadblocks his superiors threw in his way.
But it didn’t hurt to keep ’em nervous.
The window had a nice view of Taksim Square and the Monument of the Republic. The square served for major ceremonies and public gatherings because there was nothing of suitable size in the Old City. The Golden Horn, to the south, was invisible beyond the buildings of the Pera District, and the skyline was dominated by the twenty-story tower of a nearby hotel – the ETAP Marmar, the city’s tallest building. Rooms on this side of the Sheraton were considerably cheaper than those with a view of the Bosphorus, but Kelly did find it pleasant to look out at the trees of Taksim Park – probably the only place in Istanbul that contained so much greenery.
Not that his choice of a room had anything to do with that aspect of the view.
Kelly turned. The exchange between Elaine and now both members of the sweep team had continued. Christophe’s cigarette had burned almost to his fingers and scattered a lump of ash as he gestured with it.
“Goddammit, Christophe,” Doug said sharply with his arms akimbo. “Put out the cigarette!”
The man with his headphones now loosely clasping his neck scurried to comply.
Kelly could afford to smile sardonically at Elaine’s slim, tense back. And these were Europeans, not Arabs or even Moslems. Female officers must have a really great time working with locally-recruited teams. . . .
“Tell you what,” said Kelly, “let’s all just go next door, shall we?” He offered a clown’s broad smile, keeping his lips tight. “That way the boys can do whatever they need to do there. And from now on, just for fun, let’s not you or anybody you know come into 725, unless I invite him, huh?”
Doug started to bridle, but before he could reply Elaine said tiredly, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me too.” She looked at Christophe returning from the bathroom, and added, “And when they’ve swept my room, Doug, I don’t want to see them again myself till you’re told different.”
Nobody moved for a moment. Then Doug snapped, “Well, why aren’t you packing your gear, dammit?” George and Christophe eyed one another as they obeyed, but they obeyed the blond man without question.