We gathered in my office, and despite all our recent successes, the atmosphere was anything but celebratory. The entire security side of my operation was present: Angleton, Bagley, Hood, and Wright, each in his usual place. Jacob was there as well. Over the past few months, he had discovered every pleasure that came with a senior position, and I noted with grim satisfaction that dark circles had finally appeared under his eyes too. I wasn't sure taking pleasure in that was entirely appropriate, but I definitely felt better knowing I wasn't the only one slowly turning into a walking corpse from lack of sleep.
Our security company was in high demand, but we had deliberately chosen quality over quantity and therefore couldn't take on too many contracts at once. The ones we did accept brought in very respectable sums, and the division was already close to paying for itself, though given our current financial position, that was no longer especially important. For now, the most valuable thing the security branch had given us was connections. Having our men on a protection detail had become a mark of prestige, and Greer and his public relations department had used that fact to expand my circle of useful acquaintances yet again.
Wesley set a cup of coffee in front of me. Somehow, he had learned to brew it better than I did, which was impressive considering his experience compared to my many years as a devoted coffee addict. Incidentally, there were no dark circles under his eyes, even though he sometimes worked harder than I did. A named character—what else could you expect? The universe itself had declared him an exceptional manager, and apparently men like that didn't need sleep.
Angleton reached for the cigarettes in his pocket out of habit, but I stopped him with a look before he could take out the pack. There was no smoking in our offices. I had established that rule from the beginning. At first, I had let it slide and given him time to adjust to the new order, but the grace period was over.
Catching my eye, the old man gave me a wounded smile, rose at a leisurely pace, walked over to the window, opened it wide, and lit up, carefully blowing the smoke outside.
"Even in the halls of Langley, no one made me go through this kind of nonsense," he grumbled after taking a drag. "Now some boy is tormenting an old man who has served his interests faithfully and well."
"I may be tormenting you, but I'm saving everyone else from the way you torment them by permanently filling every room with smoke," I replied, taking a sip of coffee. "James, how many times do I have to repeat myself? You smoke more than a steam engine. If you're determined to methodically destroy your own health, at least spare a thought for the people forced to breathe it in."
"As far as I am aware from the medical literature, secondhand smoke poses no serious danger to one's health," Angleton objected with the dignity of a man appealing to established scientific fact.
"It does, and a considerable one. The relevant research simply hasn't received much attention yet. I've read the data myself." I waved the matter away, unwilling to get dragged any deeper into the subject. "In any case, judging by your faces and the urgency of this meeting, we've managed to land ourselves in trouble again."
"Trouble is putting it mildly." Angleton tossed the cigarette butt through the window, shut it, and returned to the table. "But let's begin with the good news. That way, the bad news may not sound entirely catastrophic."
He resumed his seat and folded his hands on the table, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
"The war with organized crime is winding down, and we can consider that an unconditional victory. We hurt them too badly for them to continue in the same fashion. Silvermane has lost two major supply routes and roughly a third of his people in Brooklyn. The Italian families have turned on one another over the information we fed them, and they still haven't figured out who betrayed whom. The Westies are so deeply bogged down in their war with the Maggia that they no longer have time for us."
Bagley nodded, confirming his colleague's assessment.
"More importantly, we have built a substantial network of our own within the criminal world. We now have informants in nearly every major organization, along with several turned mid-level members who report any significant movement to us. Low-level fighting continues in a few neighborhoods, but that is inertia rather than a coordinated campaign against us."
"Unfortunately, the war hasn't died down at the level of influence and connections, but we're holding our ground there as well," I added, remembering the past few weeks. "Not long ago, we had to deal with a corrupt official in the city administration who refused to move from the Mafia's hook to ours. We offered him perfectly reasonable terms of cooperation, but he dug in and decided his old masters were more reliable than the new ones."
"And what happened in the end?" Hood asked. He had been too busy with the audits to keep up with every development.
"We burned him, and did it cleanly. The Maggia originally intended to use the situation to frame him and smear us at the same time. They wanted to make it look as though we were blackmailing honest public servants. Angleton caught wind of the plan early enough, and we moved first. The official went to prison for taking Mafia bribes, the Maggia lost a valuable asset inside the city administration, and we came away clean. The prosecutor's office even thanked us for our assistance."
"A classic three-move play." Angleton allowed himself a satisfied smile. "The enemy thinks he is driving you into a corner when, in reality, he is running straight into the trap."
"But all of that is ultimately secondary." I leaned back in my chair. "I'm nearly certain that within the next few months we'll see, if not a genuine truce, then at least a prolonged lull. There's no longer any point in the criminal organizations coming at us head-on."
"I agree with that assessment," Angleton said. "We have climbed too high for street methods to crush us now. Too many connections, too many resources, too much press attention. Any serious attack would draw so much unwanted scrutiny toward the attackers that the game simply wouldn't be worth the candle."
"But before we celebrate, we need to take care of something important." His voice grew more serious. "What you and I discussed last time."
"Fisk," I said with some irritation.
"You truly consider him that dangerous?"
"Of course. You've seen the reports on his activities over the past year. While the old players tore one another apart, that fat bastard methodically bought up every piece of territory they abandoned, recruited their people, and built a network of his own. He already controls more than the Gambino family and is still expanding."
Angleton thought for a moment, reflexively reached for his cigarettes, then immediately withdrew his hand under my stare.
"You're right about that. His methods are… impressive. He isn't merely a gangster. He is a businessman who uses crime as a tool to achieve his objectives. Men like that are the hardest to stop because they think several moves ahead and don't allow emotion to interfere with their decisions."
"Which is precisely why we need to deal with him before he becomes too powerful. But that deserves a separate meeting."
I looked around the table.
"Right now, I'm more interested in the unpleasant situation you've clearly saved for last. Is this about the intelligence agencies again?"
Wright, who had remained silent until then, gave a quiet snort.
"Those very agencies. This time, however, it feels as though the game has moved to an entirely different level. We have clearly jumped several places on their list of priorities."
Bagley nodded.
"As you already know, at least three intelligence plants are currently working inside the company, all of them under close observation. Two entered through the security division, while the third secured a position in the administrative department of the parent company. All three remain blissfully convinced that they infiltrated us successfully and are passing valuable information to their handlers. In reality, they only see what we choose to show them. This latest influx, however, has been far larger in scale. I am seriously concerned that we may have to expand the counterintelligence staff, which would create additional risks of its own."
"How did you identify them?" Jacob asked. He had always taken a keen interest in counterintelligence methods.
"The indicators differed in each case." Bagley took out his ever-present notebook and slowly turned several pages. "The first, Daniel Rossi, claimed to be a former military policeman from Fort Bragg. His cover was nearly flawless. The documents survived our preliminary checks, and every reference was confirmed when contacted. But he made one unfortunate mistake: by his second day, he was far too confident in navigating the internal layout of our building. He moved through the corridors as though he had worked here for years. That left only two possibilities. Either he possessed a photographic memory, or he had studied the floor plans beforehand. Those plans are available only to us and to government bodies with official access to the architectural records."
"The second, Michael Davis, came through a recruiting agency and took a position in the administrative department," Bagley continued. "Young, conspicuously ambitious, with a flawless résumé from Columbia University. The problem was that he asked too many of the right questions. Not the naïve questions of a curious newcomer trying to make an impression, but the focused questions of an experienced analyst methodically reconstructing the structure of an unfamiliar organization. He was interested in links between divisions, chains of command, and informal channels of communication between departments. He disguised his inquiries quite skillfully as an innocent desire to understand his own responsibilities better. But once you know what to look for, the pattern becomes difficult to miss."
"The third case was the most interesting from a professional standpoint." Bagley allowed himself the faint smile of a craftsman appreciating the work of a worthy rival. "Stephen Hawke, formerly an Army Ranger, passed every one of our checks without leaving a single lead. We identified him solely thanks to Peter."
Wright gave a restrained nod and picked up the explanation.
"Technical counterintelligence," he said in his usual impassive tone. "I installed a monitoring system on every telephone line in the building, including the service telephones that do not formally pass through our internal switchboard. Hawke selected a telephone on the ground floor for calls he believed were secure, because that particular line genuinely was not connected directly to the office system. What he did not know was that I intercept the signal at the external line, before it leaves the building. His weekly reports went to a handler in Langley with admirable regularity: every Wednesday, between four and four-thirty in the afternoon."
"In addition to those three, whom we exposed quickly enough and deliberately left in place to feed controlled disinformation, we have rejected another four candidates during their probationary periods over the past several months," Bagley added.
I couldn't help grimacing as I remembered those cases. We had spent a considerable amount of effort inventing plausible grounds for dismissing them because, officially, they had been exemplary employees and gave us no legitimate cause for complaint. In the end, we had to arrange situations in which they appeared responsible for their own failures. It had left a rather unpleasant taste in my mouth.
"Those four were agents of an entirely different caliber," Bagley went on, shaking his head with professional respect for the opposition. "We never caught them doing anything specific, but the accumulated details and the results of our analysis left no doubt as to their true nature. Forgive me, Mr. Jacob, but the methods used to identify specialists of that level belong to the category of professional secrets I cannot share even within this group."
Jacob spread his hands to show that he understood and took no offense.
Angleton took over, his voice growing heavier.
"All of this remained manageable while we stayed within certain boundaries. A security company with a good reputation, albeit one employing unusually capable personnel. A manufacturing concern led by a talented owner with an eye for market opportunities. Several old men from the intelligence community who had found a quiet harbor for their retirement years. Taken separately, none of it looked especially suspicious unless someone dug too deeply. I know how these systems function because I helped build them. As long as you remain within certain limits, they leave you alone. There simply aren't enough resources to investigate every person who looks unusual."
He paused, and in that silence I could feel the approach of the unpleasant revelation that had brought us all together.
"But this past year changed everything. The company's sudden rise has been so assured and so rapid that it cannot help raising questions. In eighteen months, you have covered ground that normally takes companies decades. You acquired half a dozen technology firms, assembled a team of the best engineers in the industry, entered international markets, and survived a legal war with Warner. You created a game console that came to dominate its market within months of launch. And you did all of this while expanding the security systems and protection businesses at an equally indecent pace."
"Then there is the attention you deliberately attracted," Wright added. "Press conferences, interviews, features in business magazines. Forbes ran a major profile on you last month, and Business Week seems to mention your company in every other issue. You are no longer invisible, David. You have become a public figure, and public figures with your profile inevitably attract the attention of those whose job is to notice anomalies."
"They are going to investigate us seriously," Angleton concluded. "They already have, to be precise. Three agents successfully placed inside the company and four more candidates screened out within six months is not a routine inquiry. It is the beginning of a full-scale operation. The next stage will involve requests to the Internal Revenue Service, examination of every financial transaction we have made, background investigations into all key employees, telephone taps, and personal surveillance on you."
"They were already interested in the security company," Jacob said. "A private paramilitary organization staffed by special operations veterans is a red flag for any counterintelligence service. Until now, that interest was moderate and routine. After everything that happened this year, it will be neither."
A heavy silence settled over the room. I took a sip of cold coffee and gathered my thoughts.
"Well," I finally said, leaning forward with my forearms on the table. "Then it's time."
Everyone present, including Jacob, raised their eyebrows at almost exactly the same moment. Clearly, none of them had expected that response.
"Time?" Angleton repeated. "You mean…"
"Exactly what we discussed several months ago as a very distant possibility." I allowed myself a humorless smile. "Moving to the next level. Working directly with the Department of Defense: military contracts, security clearances, official status."
"You think we can handle that level?" Angleton's voice was more serious than I had ever heard it. "That is an entirely different league, David. Different rules, different stakes."
"What choice do we have? We finally have the money." I smiled bitterly because, despite that, there still wasn't enough for all my plans. Apparently, that was simply my fate: no matter how much I earned, I would always think I needed more. "If we remain where we are, sooner or later they will take us apart piece by piece. Too many questions without officially acceptable answers. Too many people with interesting pasts gathered in one place. Too much noise from our war with organized crime."
Everyone fell silent, considering what I had said.
"To place ourselves under the Department of Defense's protection without allowing them to put a collar around our necks, we will have to plan and calculate every detail," Hood finally said. Until then, he had listened in silence while making notes in his notebook. "And you will need to show them something genuinely exceptional if you expect them to deal with us on our terms. Establishing ourselves in circles where any misstep could prove fatal… will be difficult."
"When has anything ever been easy for us?" I spread my hands. "Once we're under their wing, however, people will stop asking unnecessary questions. Contractors in that category receive a wide range of privileges. A security company with unusually capable personnel and a handful of elderly intelligence veterans serving as consultants will no longer attract quite so much scrutiny. The Department of Defense itself will restrain the CIA, the FBI, and every other curious agency because it will have an interest in keeping a valuable partner operational."
Angleton slowly nodded.
"To tell the truth, I don't see another option either. We have gone too deep," he admitted. "Defense contractors do enjoy a certain degree of immunity from excessive attention by other agencies. Interdepartmental rivalries have never disappeared, and the Pentagon dislikes the CIA or FBI interfering in the affairs of its partners. But gaining entry to that club…"
"I understand perfectly well that it won't be easy," I interrupted. "But we possess something no one else does."
"And what exactly would that be?"
"My vision of the future, and the technology needed to make that vision real. You've seen the load-bearing equipment we developed for the security division. What do you think of it?"
Angleton rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"It has considerable potential, I can't deny that. But you will have to endure every bureaucratic procedure they have for testing and evaluation. That means months, perhaps years, of paperwork and endless approvals."
"That's fine. My men have become very good at using the equipment, and I think the demonstration will impress them. Besides, the tactical load-bearing system is far from everything we have in reserve. Add the improvements we patented for body armor, and the picture becomes considerably more encouraging. I also have one trump card that will interest them enough to make them seek us out themselves."
"The Pentagon wants innovation," I continued when I saw that everyone was listening closely. "We are ready to provide it. We only need to find the right door."
"I can show you the doors," Angleton said after a long pause, clearly reviewing a list of old contacts in his head. "Despite the humiliating manner in which I was removed from Langley, I still have a few connections inside the Pentagon."
"I retained certain contacts as well," Bagley added. "Several people at the directorate level who could arrange meetings with the right officials without forcing us through the full bureaucratic process."
Wright cleared his throat quietly, drawing everyone's attention.
"If we truly intend to proceed, we will need something extraordinary for the first impression. Not merely a good product in attractive packaging, but something that leaves them staring with their mouths open. Military men are practical to the bone. Pretty presentations and colorful slides will not impress them. They need to see a real result with their own eyes, and preferably handle it themselves, so they can be certain it is not another fraud being sold by an enterprising contractor."
"I have several ideas." I nodded. "We'll discuss the specifics separately, once I have settled the technical details with Phineas and the engineering team. I don't intend to promise anything we cannot demonstrate on schedule."
"Then let us establish the next steps." Hood immediately turned to a clean page in his notebook and poised his pencil above it.
Incidentally, out of pure curiosity, I once asked him to show me what he was constantly writing in there. Hood had shrugged and handed over the notebook without the slightest objection. Unfortunately, I couldn't decipher a single word. Everything was encoded through some system of abbreviations and symbols whose meaning was known only to its author. My intelligence people really were remarkable men.
"Who is responsible for what, what deadlines are we setting, and what resources will be required?"
We spent the next two hours discussing the details of the plan. Angleton and Bagley would activate their contacts in the Pentagon and arrange preliminary meetings at the deputy-assistant level to test the waters. Wright would handle the technical preparations, strengthening the protection around our communications before we drew even more attention to ourselves. Hood was to prepare our financial records in a form that would satisfy military auditors. Jacob would ensure that the security division looked flawless in terms of licenses, certifications, and every other piece of paper bureaucrats loved to inspect.