* * *?
The room in the second hotel was also deserted. Besides the usual bed, side tables, TV, and wall unit, it had a recliner in one corner. Set up in front of it was a TV camera on a folding stand, connected to a laptop operating via a satellite modem. Reyvek sat down facing the camera and smoothed his clothing while he composed himself. Then the tinny voice spoke again, this time from the laptop speakers. “We regret having to take these measures. The risks associated with this kind of contact are extreme—as someone like you will be all too aware.”
“I understand.”
“So you are Wayne Reyvek, captain in the uniformed division of the Internal Security Service.”
“That’s correct.”
“And you say you want to change sides: to place your services at the disposal of this organization.”
“Right, I want out.”
“And how would you describe your motivation, Captain Reyvek?”
“Disillusionment.”
“Could you be more specific?”
Reyvek had expected the question, of course. He sighed and raised his hands briefly. “Maybe I’m some kind of old-fashioned idealist that doesn’t belong anymore. Remember that phrase they used to teach the kids in school: `Protect and Serve’? Well, that what I used to think this work would be all about. And for a while, I guess, that’s the way it used to be, more or less: defending what was best for this country; for Americans.” Reyvek shook his head. “But that’s all changing. Americans are the victims of what’s going on now. The interests that we’re really defending are the aliens’. ” He paused to make sure this was the kind of response that was wanted.
“Can you elaborate?” the voice invited.
Again, an open-handed gesture. “The whole Security Service is coming under alien influence—instilled with their ideas of what’s effective. Those aren’t our values, human values. You saw what happened in Washington the other day—people screaming, throwing up in the street like dogs; stuck in goo they have to be dissolved out of. Just ordinary people protesting about losing their jobs, watching their towns fall apart, while a few guys are making millions. They didn’t deserve being treated like that. . . . And it’s going to get worse. Right now, the training programs are being rewritten to include indoctrination for firing on U.S. citizens. That isn’t right. They’re gearing up for war here in the cities. It’ll get the same as it is down south. I’ve had combat experience in Brazil. The public isn’t being told what’s happening in places like that. I’ve had enough. I’m with you guys, okay?”
A series of probing questions followed. The voice, and the people that Reyvek presumed to be with him, were cautious—wary of this being a plant. Reyvek had anticipated it. Infiltration was one of the classic weapons against subversives. “I have information to give you that will prove I’m genuine,” he said.
“What kind of information?” the voice asked.
“Proof that Farden, Meakes, and the two Hyadeans weren’t killed by CounterAction, the way the country is being told.” That would get their interest, he had decided. If the assassination hadn’t been the work of their own organization, the people Reyvek was talking to would presumably be aware of the fact.
There was a pause. Then the voice asked, “Does that mean you know who was responsible?”
“It was carried out by an operative of the ISS,” Reyvek replied. “The order came from an unofficial source connected to the administration. I have the names. I can document the origin of the weapon that was used. It wasn’t smuggled into the country by CounterAction via China—as you or your people know already. I’ve mailed it all to a box in the city. You can have the address, number, and key.”
Again there was a pause, longer this time, as if those at the far end of the link were conferring, or perhaps communicating with others elsewhere. At last the voice spoke again.
“A good move, Captain Reyvek. The matter will have to be conveyed higher within our own command structure before I can give you a response. We had considered asking if you would be willing to remain with the ISS as an internal source for us. But the information you have indicated promises to be of such value as to rule out the risk of letting you go back. We’ll move you to a safe house tonight. You’ll be comfortable there until word comes back down. From now on you will be referred to as `Otter.’ “