“Tell you what—we can take the people who have access to the leaked material and put ’em all on the box.” On the box meant subjecting everyone to a lie-detector test. The last time that had been done here, it had nearly started a revolution at Tea Clipper, The scientists and engineers were not intelligence types who understood that such things were necessary, but academics who considered the whole process an insult to their patriotism. Or a game: one of the software engineers had even tried using biofeedback techniques to screw up the test results. The main result from this effort, eighteen months before, had been to show that the scientific staff had a great deal of hostility to the security weenies, which was not much of a surprise. What had finally stopped the testing was a wrathful paper from a senior scientist who’d shown that a few deliberate lies he’d told went undetected. That, and the disruption it had caused within the various sections, had ended things before the program had been completed.
“Taussig didn’t go on the box the last time,” Jennings noted. She’d checked. “None of the admin people did. The revolt stopped things before they got that far. She was one of the people who—”
“Because the software bunch brought their protests to her, She’s admin, remember, she’s supposed to keep all the scientific people happy.” Perkins had checked, too, “Look, if you feel this strongly about it, we can come back to her later. I don’t see anything myself, but I’ll trust your instincts—but for now, we have all these others to check out.”
Margaret Jennings nodded her surrender. Perkins was right, after all. They had nothing solid to point to. It was just her-what? Jennings wondered. She thought Taussig was gay, but that wasn’t such a big thing anymore—the courts had said so in enough cases—and there was no proof to support her suspicion anyway. That’s what it was, she knew. Three years earlier, right before she’d joined the counterintelligence office, she’d handled a kidnapping involving a couple of . . .
She also knew that Perkins was being more professional about it. Even though a Mormon, and straighter than most arrows, he didn’t let his personal feelings interfere with business. What she couldn’t shake was the gut feeling that despite everything logic and experience told her, she was still right. Right or wrong, she and Will had six reports to fill out before they went back into the field. You couldn’t spend more than half your time in the field anymore. The rest was always stuck at a desk—or a converted lunch table—explaining to people what it was that you did when you weren’t stuck at a desk.
“Al, this is Bea. Could you come over to my office?”
“Sure. Be over in five minutes.”
“Great. Thanks.” Taussig hung up. Even Bea admired Gregory for his punctuality. He came through the door exactly on time.
“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“No. They’re running another target-geometry simulation, but they don’t need me for that. What’s up?” Major Gregory asked, then said, “I like the outfit, Bea.”
“Thanks, Al. I need you to help me with something.”
“What?”
“It’s a birthday present for Candi. I’m picking it up this afternoon and I need somebody to help me with it.”
“Eek, you’re right. It is in three weeks, isn’t it?”
Taussig smiled at Al. He even made geeky noises. “You’re going to have to start remembering those things.”
“So what are you getting her?” He grinned like a little boy.
“It’s a surprise, Al.” She paused. “It’s something Candi needs. You’ll see. Candi drove herself in today, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she has to see the dentist after work.”
“And don’t tell her anything, please? It’s a big surprise,” Bea explained.
He could see that it was all she could do to keep her face straight. It must be some surprise, he smiled. “Okay, Bea. I’ll see you at five.”
They woke after noon. “Bob” trudged to the bathroom first before he remembered that there was no running water. He checked the windows for signs of activity before he went outside. By the time he was back, the others had water boiling. They only had instant coffee, but Bisyarina had gotten them a decent brand, and the breakfast food was all typically American, loaded with sugar. They knew that they’d need it. When each had finished his “morning” routine, they got out their maps and their tools and went over the operation’s details. Over a period of three hours, they walked through them mentally until each man knew exactly what had to happen.
And there it was, the Archer told himself. Mountains made for long views. In this case, the objective was still two nights’ march away, despite the fact that they could see it now. While his subordinates tucked their men into hiding places, he rested his binoculars on a rock and examined the site, still . . . twenty-five kilometers away? he wondered, then checked his map, Yes. He’d have to take his men downhill, cross a small stream, then up the slopes on a man-killing climb, and they would make their last camp . . . there. He concentrated his viewing on that spot. Five kilometers from the objective itself, shielded from view by the mountain’s contours . . . the final climb would be a hard one. But what choice was there? He might give his people an hour’s rest before the actual assault. That would help, and he’d also be able to brief his men on their individual missions, and give them all time to pray. His eyes went back to the objective.
Clearly, construction was still under way, but on this sort of place, they’d never stop building. It was well that they were here now. In a few more years it would be impregnable, As it was . . .
His eyes strained to make out the details. Even with binoculars he couldn’t make out anything smaller than the guard towers. In the first light of dawn he could see the individual bumps that marked buildings. He’d have to be closer to make out items on which the last-minute details of his plan would depend, but for the moment his interest was in the lay of the land. How best to approach the place? How to use the mountain to their advantage? If this place were guarded by KGB troops, as the CIA documents he’d inspected had said, he knew that they were as lazy as they were cruel.
Guard towers, three, north side. There will be a fence then. Mines? he wondered. Mines or not, those guard towers would have to go fast. They’d hold heavy machine guns, and the view from them commanded the terrain. How to do that?
“So that is the place?” The former Army Major came down beside him.
“The men?”
“All hidden.” the Major answered. He spent a minute examining the place in silence. “Remember the stories about the Assassins’ stronghold in Syria?”
“Oh.” The Archer turned sharply, That’s what it reminded him of! “And how was that fortress taken?”
The Major smiled, keeping his eyes to the objective. “With more resources than we have, my friend . . . if they ever fortify the whole hilltop, it would take a regiment with helicopter support even to get inside the perimeter. So how do you plan to do it?”
“Two groups.”
“Agreed.” The Major didn’t agree with any of this. His training—all of it supplied by the Russians—told him that this mission was madness for so small a force, but before he could contradict a man like the Archer he would have to show his combat skills. That meant running mad risks. In the meantime, the Major would try to nudge his tactics in the right direction.
“The machines are on the slopes to the north. The people are on the knoll to the south.” As they watched, the headlights of buses were moving from one place to the other. It was shift-change. The Archer considered that, but he had to make his attack in darkness and leave in darkness, else they’d never get away.
“If we can get in close without being detected . . . may I make a suggestion?” the Major asked quietly.
“Go on.”
“Take everything in together to the high ground in the center, then attack downhill against both places.”
“It’s dangerous,” the Archer noted at once. “There is much open ground to be covered on both sides.”
“It’s also easier to reach the jump-off point unobserved. An approach by one group is less likely to be spotted than one by two groups. Place our heavy weapons there, and they can observe and support both assault teams . . .”
Here was the difference between an instinctive warrior and a trained soldier, the Archer admitted to himself. The Major knew better than he how to measure hazards one against the other. “I don’t know about the guard towers, though. What do you think?”