Terminal Compromise by Winn Schwartau (my reading book .txt) 📖

anti-Communist when there were Communists, but he re-

spected their agents’ highly professional attitude, and yes,

ethics.

“Touch! I have missed our talks and our disagreements. I never

could talk you into something you did not believe in, could I?”

Alex slapped Templer lightly on his back. Templer didn’t answer.

“Ah, you look so serious. You came for business, not old memo-

ries?”

“No, Alex, I’d love to chat, and we will, but I do need to get a

couple of questions answered, and then, I can relax. Perhaps a

trip to Club 24?” Templer pointed at the bright yellow kiosk

with the silhouettes of naked women emblazoned on it. For a mere

$300, you can buy a bottle of Chevas Regal and share it with one

or two or more of the lovely skimpily clad ladies who adorned

the bar seats. All else was negotiable in private.

“Done. Let us speak, now. What can I do for you?” Alex ap-

proved of the plan.

“I need some information,” Templer said seriously.

“That is my business, of course.”

“We have a problem in the States . . .”

“As usual,” Alex interrupted.

“Yes,” Templer grinned, “as usual. But this one is not usual.

Someone, someone with connections, is apparently using computers

as a blackmail tool. The FBI is investigating domestically, and,

well, it’s our job, to look outside. So, I figure, call Alex.

That’s why I’m here.”

Alex disguised his surprise. How had they found him? He now

needed to find out what, if anything, they knew.

“Blackmail? Computers? That’s not a lot to go on.” Alex main-

tained absolute composure.

“Here’s what we know. And it’s not much. There appears to be a

wholesale blackmail operation in place. With the number of com-

plaints we have gotten over the last few months, we could guess

that maybe 10, or 20 people, maybe more are involved. They’re

after the big boys; the banks, some senators, folks with real

money and power. And it’s one professional job. They seem to

get their information from computers, from the radiation they

emanate. It’s something we really want to keep quiet.”

Alex listened quietly. If Templer was being straight, they

didn’t know much, certainly not the scope of the operation nor

Alex’s own involvement. It was possible, though, that Templer

was playing dumb, and trying to elicit clues from Alex. If he

was a suspect.

“What sort of demands are being made?” Alex was going to play

the game to the hilt.

“None. Yet.”

“After 2 months? You say? And no demands? What kind of black-

mail is that?” Alex ineffectively stifled a laugh. “This

sounds like some Washington paranoia. “You really don’t know

what to do without an adversary, so you create one,” Alex chuck-

led.

“Alex, c’mon. No shit, we got some muckity mucks with their

heads in a tail spin and our asses in a sling. I don’t know

what’s happening, but, whatever it is, it’s causing a pile of

shit bigger than Congress and smellier.”

“And you thought I might know something about it?” Alex ven-

tured.

“Well, no, or yes, or maybe,” Templer said coyly. “Who’s got a

grudge? Against so many people? And then, who’s also got the

technology to do it. There must be a lot of smart people and

money in on it. You have the best ears in Europe.” The compli-

ment might help.

“Thank you for the over-statement, but I have only a small group

on whom I can rely. Certainly your own agency can find out

before I can.” Deniability and humility could raise the ante.

“We have our good days, but too many bad days.” Templer was being

sincere concluded Alex. “Listen, I need the streets. If there’s

nothing, then there’s nothing. It could be domestic, but it

smells of outside influence. Can you help?”

Alex stopped to light up a non-filtr Gaulloise. He inhaled

deeply as his eyes scanned the clear sky. He wanted to have

Templer think there might be something.

“How much is this information worth?” Alex was the perfect

mercenary, absolutely no allegiance to anyone other than himself.

“We have about fifty grand for good info. But for that price, it

had better be good.”

Alex had to laugh to himself at the American’s naivete. Homosoto

was paying him a hundred times that for one job. Being a free-

lancer means treating all customers as equals, and there was no

way he would jeopardize his planned retirement for a cause or for

a friend. This would be easy.

“Phew!” Alex whistled. “Hot off the griddle, huh? I’ll see who

knows what. It may take a while, a week, ten days, but I’ll get

back to you with anything I find. No promises, though.”

“I know it’s a long shot, but we have to look at all angles. I

really appreciate it.” Templer sounded relieved. He had just

recruited, for no money down, the best source of information in

Europe. “Let’s go have a bottle of Chevas. On me.” The Ameri-

can taxpayer was about to pay for the sexual relief of a merce-

nary enemy.

Alex made it home at 4:00 A.M. after the romp in Club 24. Or was

it Club 1? He no longer knew, no cared. Despite his intense

intoxication, he had to talk to his employer. Somehow he managed

to get his computer alive. He dialed the number in Tokyo, not

knowing whether Homosoto would be in the office.

ENTER PASSWORD ENTER CRYPT KEY

He responded to both, nearly blinded from the Chevas, yet his

professionalism demanded that he make immediate contact if possi-

ble.

<<<<<>>>>>

Alex missed the message for several seconds before forcing him-

self alert. He quickly entered his opening words before the

connection would shut down.

I have been contacted.

Homosoto apparently never went home. He got an immediate re-

sponse.

BY WHOM

The CIA

The screen paused for several seconds. Alex was too drunk to

notice.

HOW?

An old frrrriend. He called for a meeeeeeting.

WHAT DID HE WANT?

He asked about the US operations.

HOW MUCH DOES HE KNOW?

They kkknnow about the blackmail. But, they’re

fishing

FISH

Looking for answers. They know nothing.

TELL ME MORE. I AM NOT HAPPY.

The FBI is looking for an answer, who is behind the propaganda.

They think it is very important, take it seriously. They brought

in the CIA and, probably, the NSA. The effect is beginning. We

should be pleased.

AND THE PRESS? IS IT IN THE PAPERS?

No, it was suppressed. The Government still controls the press.

AND YOU. WHY CONTACT YOU?

The same reason you did. It is pure coincidence.

I AM NOT CONVINCED.

An old friend, a colleague, called for a meeting. He asked for

my help. He tried to hire me to find out if it was foreign.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

I told him the streets, the rumors, know nothing. That is true.

He never suspected me. I was surprised. He offered me money to

give him information.

HOW MUCH MONEY?

$50,000 US

I PAY YOU A THOUSAND TIMES THAT

No, only 100 times.

DOES IT MATTER?

Only if they equal your money.

MAKE SURE THEY DO NOT. IT IS NOT WORTH YOUR LIFE.

The CIA does not have that kind of money. That is why the Rus-

sians learned so much for so little. The US does not think they

should pay to keep their secrets.

THEY ARE WRONG. WE CALL IT INSURANCE.

They call it blackmail. They do not have the funds.

WHAT WILL YOU TELL THEM?

I will tell them that it is not from here. No, it must be from

the US. They will believe me. I will charge them for that

information.

AND THEY WILL BELIEVE YOU?

If I make them pay, yes. If I give it for free, no. That’s the

American way. They will believe what is easiest to believe.

They do not know that this is my last job. They cannot know. If

they think that, they will suspect me. And then, you.

WHY ME?

They will use drugs I cannot resist. So, I must make sure I help

them.

AND IF THEY OFFER MONEY. AS MUCH AS I DO?

Then we negotiate.

THEN YOU WILL DIE.

<<<<<>>>>> Chapter 16 Wednesday, December 9 New York

The late afternoon pace of the City Room at the Times tended to

be chaotic. As deadlines approached and the paper was laid out

for the printers, the flurry of activity was associated with an

increase in the loudness of the room. Scott Mason listened with

one hand over his right ear and the phone so awkwardly pressed

between his left ear and shoulder that his glasses sat askew on

his face. Suddenly hanging up the phone, Scott sprung up shout-

ing, “I got it.” Several people stopped and stared in his

direction, but seeing nothing of concern or interest to them,

they returned to their own