Steve Martini - Trader of secrets

“What’s this about being neighbors?” said Sarah.

“I’m now living in the building.” Adin took a sip of coffee. “Whew, that’s hot!”

“Since when?”

“Since yesterday.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “The lease on my apartment was up. I tried to renew for a short time and couldn’t, so the bureau offered to put me up here until the program is over.”

“I see. What floor?”

“Eight. Same as yours.”

“You are close.”

“Just around the corner.” He smiled at her and nibbled around the edges of the bagel. “How is your dog?”

“He’s fine. But he needs more exercise. He’s starting to give off gas in the evenings. Lies on the carpet and issues forth with silent clouds of death, if you know what I mean.”

He laughed. “If you like, I can take him out and give him a run.”

“That would be good. The only problem is, I need exercise too.”

“I’m not sure they’d let me do that,” said Adin. “I mean, take you for a run.”

“I knew what you meant.” Sarah smiled. “They let us out every other day. Just for an hour, under the gaze of a friendly agent. It’s like being in prison.”

“Actually most prisoners get more yard time than that,” said Adin.

“I don’t mean to complain, but I can’t wait to get home, back to a normal life.”

“And when’s that going to be?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully when my father gets back, I’ll know more.”

“Where are they?”

Sarah almost told him, then hesitated. “Right now I’m not sure. They should be back in a few days.” Sarah knew they were in Paris, for how long she wasn’t sure. She had received a printout of an e-mail message from her father. It was delivered to her by the FBI, but there were few details. “I should have some company in a day or so. Herman, my dad’s PI, is going to be staying with me in the condo…”

“PI?”

“Private investigator. My dad’s a lawyer. He and his partner have a firm in Coronado near San Diego. Herman investigates cases for them. He was injured here in Washington.”

“I see.”

“He’s recovering. They decided to put him up in the condo rather than a skilled nursing facility where they’d have to provide security. His sister who had been visiting him in the hospital had to return to her job in Detroit. They’ll have a nurse on call as needed in the condo. I told them I’d be happy to prepare his meals. It will give me something to do.”

“You probably shouldn’t be telling me all this,” said Hirst.

“Why? Are you going to print it in the newspaper?”

“No. It’s just that it’s best sometimes to keep everything on a need-to-know basis.”

“Need-to-know basis-what’s that, spy talk?”

“No. Well, maybe. Sometimes. But not between you and me.”

“Good. It seems I never get a chance to talk to anybody. The only one I can talk to is Bugsy, and except for the noxious fumes, that’s a one-way conversation.”

“I see,” he said as he smiled.

“Lately I’ve started talking to myself.”

“I’m told that’s not a serious problem until you start answering yourself.”

“And I’ve done that a few times,” she told him.

“The crazy lady in 805,” said Adin. “That’s OK; it’ll be our secret. I won’t tell a soul. Just speak into my lapel.”

“You know, I have wondered if they have cameras and microphones in the rooms,” said Sarah.

“Oh God, I hope not!” Adin said it with a stark look in his eyes. They both laughed.

Sarah liked his face. She liked everything about him. It was hard not to. There was a strange kind of calm about him, something understated that made him seem older than his years. “So tell me about yourself.”

“What, for example?”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“You don’t look that old.”

“I can cut off a leg and show you the rings if you like.”

She laughed. “That won’t be necessary. Where are you from?”

“Another land.”

“Yes, I know. You already told me that. Which one?”

“I’m an extraterrestrial from Delphi X,” he says. “I left my pointed ears out in the car.”

“Give me a break,” she says.

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“I see; so you’re a national security secret, is that it?”

“Not exactly.”

“You could at least be a gentleman and give me a clue.”

Adin held up the bagel, turned it over in his hand, and examined it. Then he looked at her through the hole in the center. “Are you any good at pantomimes?”

“Spyglass?”

He gave her a look of failure and shook his head. Then he licked the bagel, looked at it covetously, and took a bite.

“Bread?”

He gave an angry expression and pointed at the bagel.

“Bagels.”

He didn’t nod, but he smiled.

“Jewish. Israel?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re Israeli! I had a friend in college who was from Israel.”

“Did you like him?”

“He was a she.”

“Ah. Did you like her?”

“I’m not sure how you mean that.”

“I mean, were you attracted to her personally, or was it her personality?”

“Personality.” Sarah gave him a scolding sideways glance.

“Now that that’s settled, I wonder… do you think it would be worthwhile if I had my room scanned for hidden mics and minicams?”

“I don’t know. Do you play with yourself at night?” said Sarah.

“No, but it sounds like I’m going to be.” He snapped his fingers.

She laughed.

“You know, I think it’s going to be very difficult to bring women into this place. I mean, with agents at the front desk and all.”

“You should have thought about that before you moved in.”

“I did, but it’s not working out.” He winked at her, and they both laughed.

NASA had hung Raji out to dry. When he had talked with Leffort in the car back in California and told him that he had the final targeting software and that it was tucked away in a safe place, Fareed had lied.

For some reason there had been a delay. The software that was supposed to have been completed by the work group a week earlier was in fact not completed until the very morning of their departure for Paris.

Fareed barely had time to download it from his office computer to the flash drive and tuck it away before Leffort was on him, pushing him toward the car and the airport so they could get away. Since then he had not been out of Leffort’s sight long enough to transmit it.

Now Raji was a prisoner, trapped in his room in the Hotel Saint-Jacques. A guard sat in the hallway outside his door. The window was bolted shut, as were the French doors that led onto the small balcony outside his room. All of his meals were delivered by the guard. The telephone had been disconnected, and the Wi-Fi, the wireless signal to the Internet that Raji had glimpsed just briefly on his laptop upon arrival, disappeared within seconds after they locked the door.

They ransacked his computer and found nothing. They gave it back to him and told him that if the software was stored somewhere online that they would be happy to connect him so that he could download it. Raji knew they would stand over him the entire time, watching his every move the second they turned on the wireless connection. He told them he needed to think about it.

The bald one, the man they called Bruno, visited him several times each day bargaining with him, cajoling him, doing everything possible to extract the final software that they needed, and that only Fareed possessed.

On one occasion they sent Leffort in alone to talk with Fareed in hopes that maybe he could convince Raji to give up the data. Again Raji put him on hold.