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

Soviet and East Bloc activi-

ties, and other groups focus on their specific target countries.

Thus, there is a certain amount of competition, not all of it

healthy, between the two agencies chartered to protect our na-

tional interests. The CIA is under the impression that it con-

trols all foreign investigations, even if they tread upon United

States territory. This line of thinking has been a constant

source of irritation and inefficiency since the OSS became the

CIA during the Truman administration. Only during the Hoover

reign at the FBI days was there any sense of peaceful coexist-

ence. Hoover did what he damn well pleased, and if anyone stood

in his way, he simply called up the White House and had the

roadblock removed. Kennedy era notwithstanding, Hoover held his

own for a 50 year reign.

Tyrone Duncan received an additional lesson on inter-agency

rivalry when he was called down to Half Street. His orders were

similar to those he had received from the safe house in George-

town months before. Stick to your hackers and viruses, period,

he was told. If it smells of foreign influence, let the CI fight

it out with Langley. Keep your butt clean.

In 25 years of service, Tyrone had never been so severely admon-

ished for investigating a case that he perceived as being domes-

tic in nature. The thought of foreign influences at work had not

occurred to him, until CI brought it up.

As far as he was concerned the quick trip from New York to Half

Street was a bureaucratic waste of time and money. However,

during the fifteen minute discussion he was told by his CI compa-

triots that both the blackmail and the ECCO investigations situa-

tions had international repercussions and he should keep his nose

out of it. CI was doing just fine without Tyrone’s help.The

meeting, or warning as Tyrone Duncan took it, served to raise an

internal flag.

There was a bigger picture, something beyond a classical black-

mail operation and some hackers screwing with government comput-

ers, and he was being excluded. That only meant one thing. He

was pushing someone’s button and he didn’t know how, where or

why. The Trump Shuttle flight back to La Guardia gave Tyrone

time to think about it, and that only incensed him further.

Aren’t we all on the same team? If I stumbled onto something,

and you want me to back off, O.K., but at least let me know what

I’m missing.

Twenty five years and a return to Hoover paranoia. He under-

stood, and advocated, the need for secrecy, privacy and the

trappings of confidentiality. But, compartmentalization of

information this extreme was beyond the normal course to which he

was accustomed. The whole thing stunk.

He arrived back at New York’s Federal Square during lunch hour.

Normally there was a minimal staff at that hour, or hour and half

or two hours depending upon your rank. When the elevator doors

opened on Level 5, seventy feet under lower Manhattan, he walked

into a bustle of activity normally present only when visiting

heads of state need extraordinary security. He was immediately

accosted by eager subordinates. The onslaught of questions

overwhelmed him, so he ignored them and walked through the maze

directly to his office.

His head ringing, he plopped himself down behind his desk. He

stared at the two agents who followed him all the way, plus his

secretary stood in the open door, watching with amusement.

Duncan was not appreciative of panic situations. His silence was

contagious.

“Who’s first?” He asked quietly.

The two agents looked at each other and one spoke. “Uh, sir, I

think we have a lead in the blackmail operation.” Duncan looked

at the other, offering him a chance to speak.

“Yessir, it seems to have broken all over at once.” Duncan

opened his eyes wide in anticipation. Well, he, thought, go on.

The first agent picked up the ball. “Demands. The blackmailers

are making demands. So far we have six individuals who said they

were recontacted by the same person who had first called them a

year ago.”

Duncan sat upright. “I want a complete report, here, in 1 hour.

We’ll talk then. Thank you gentlemen.” They took their cue to

exit and brushed by, Tyrone’s secretary on their way out the

door.

“Yes, Gloria?” Duncan treated her kindly, not with the adminis-

trative brusqueness he often found necessary to motivate some of

his agents.

“Good morning, or afternoon, sir. Pleasant trip?” She knew he

hated sudden trips to D.C. It was her way of teasing her boss.

“Wonderful!” Tyrone beamed with artificial enthusiasm. “Book me

on the same flights every day for a month. Definite E-ticket

ride.”

“Do you remember a Franklin Dobbs? He was here some time ago,

about, I believe the same matter you were just discussing?” Her

demureness pampered Duncan.

“Dobbs? Yes, why?”

“He’s been waiting all morning. Had to see you, no on else.

Shall I show him in?”

“Yes, by all means, thank you.”

“Mr. Dobbs, how good to see you again. Please,” Duncan pointed

at a chair in front of his desk. “Sit down. How may I help

you?”

Dobbs shuffled over to the chair and practically fell into it.

He sighed heavily and looked down at his feet. “I guess it’s all

over. All over.”

“What do you mean? My secretary, said you were being blackmailed

again. I think you should know I’m not working on that case

anymore.”

“This time it’s different,” Dobbs said, his eyes darting about.

“They want money, a lot of money, more than we have. Last time I

received a call I was told some very private and specific knowl-

edge about our company that we preferred to remain private.

That information contained all our pricing, quotation methods,

profit figures, overhead . . .everything our competitors could

use.”

“So you think your competition is blackmailing you,” Duncan

offered.

“I don’t know. If they wanted the information, why call me and

tell me? We haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“What about the others,” Duncan thought out loud. “The others

with access to the information?”

“Everyone is suspecting everyone else. It’s not healthy. Now,

after this, I’m thinking of packing it in.”

“Why now? What’s different?”

“The demands. I can’t believe it’s my competitors. Sure, it’s a

cut throat business, but, no, it’s hard to believe.”

“Stranger things have happened, Mr. Dobbs.” Duncan tried to be

soothing. “The demands, what were they?”

“They want three million dollars, cash. If we don’t pay they

said they’d give away our company secrets to our competitors.

We don’t have the cash.”

Duncan felt for the man. Dobbs had been right. There was noth-

ing the FBI could have done to help. No demands, no recontacts,

and no leads, just a lot of suspicion. But, now, the Bureau was

in a position to help.

“Mr. Dobbs, rest assured, we will pursue this case aggressively.

We will assign you two of our top agents, and, in cases like

this, we are quite successful.” Duncan’s upbeat tone was meant

to lift Dobbs’ spirits. “Was there anything else demanded?”

“No, nothing, they just told me not to go to the police.”

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Duncan asked.

“No, not even my wife.”

“Mr. Dobbs, let me ask you a couple more things, then I will

introduce you to some fine men who will help you. Do you know

anyone else who is in your position? Other people who are being

blackmailed in similar ways?”

Dobbs shuffled his feet under the chair, and picked at the edge

of the chair. Duncan hit a raw nerve.

“Mr. Dobbs, I don’t want names, no specifics. It’s a general

question. Do you know others?”

“Yes,” Dobbs said almost silently.

“Do you know how many?” Duncan needed details if his current

line of thinking would pan out into a viable theory.

“No, not exactly.”

“Is it five? Ten? More than Ten? Twenty-five? More than twenty-

five?” Dobbs nodded suddenly.

“Do you mean that you know of 25 other companies that are going

through what you’re going through? Twenty five?” Tyrone was

incredulous at the prospects. The manpower alone to investigate

that many cases would totally overwhelm his staff. There was no

way. The ramifications staggered him. Twenty five, all at once.

“Yeah. At least.”

“I know you can’t tell me who they are . . .” Duncan hoped that

Dobbs might offer a few.

“No. But, look at their stocks. They’re not doing well. Our

competitors seem to be getting the best of the deal.”

Twenty five cases in New York alone, and he knows of at least 6

others, so far. The rekindled blackmail operation, after months

of dead ends. Duncan wondered how big the monster behind the

head could get. And how could the FBI handle it all. Poor

bastard. Poor us.