Michael Crichton - Binary

Four sawhorses.

Two tanks. Of course! The crossbars would have indentations so that the tank wouldn't roll off. `You seen any tanks in there?'

`Nothing like that,' the man said. `All we've seen is a lot of mechanical equipment.'

`What kind of mechanical equipment?' Graves peered through the binoculars. He didn't see any equipment at all.

`It looks like pumps and stuff,' the man said. `It was right in the middle of the floor.' He glanced through the binoculars, then shook his head. `They must have moved it to another room. They had some electronic equipment, too.'

`What kind?'

`Looked like a hi-fi, maybe.'

Graves thought of several nasty remarks, but said nothing. A hi-fi, for Christ's sake.

`That guy in there must be pretty weird,' the man said.

Graves turned on him. `He is not weird. He is a brilliant and a dedicated man. He is engaged in a complicated plot and he is daring -' He broke off. The man was staring. `He's not weird,' Graves finished, and returned to the binoculars.

As he watched, John Wright stepped to the window and extended his hand. He held an anemometer; the cups spun lazily. After a moment Wright withdrew the instrument and returned to directing the other men in the room.

Graves turned away from the window and made some calls.

`Department of Defence.'

`Public Information, please.'

`Just a minute, please.' There was a clicking.

`Public Information, Miss,Conover speaking.'

`I'd like to talk to Lieutenant Morrison, please.'

`One minute, please.' More clicking.

`Lieutenant Morrison's office.'

`John Graves calling for Lieutenant Morrison.'

`Just a minute, I'll see if he's in.' Still more clicking. 'Morrison here. What is it?' As usual, Morrison sounded harried.

`Pete, this is John Graves at State. I'm in San Diego, and I need some information.'

`Shoot.'

`Pete, I need to know what a code word represents. The code word is Binary 75 slash 76.'

Morrison coughed in surprise. `Where'd you hear that?'

`Pete, just tell me what it means.'

`Jesus, this is an open line.'

`I know it's an open line. Tell me what it means.'

`Where are you calling from?'

`San Diego.'

`Jesus, you must be out of your mind.'

`I need the information, Pete. And I need it now.'

`Look,' Morrison said, `if you don't mind me saying so, this is pretty irregular. You've just popped a -' He broke off again. `Honestly,' he said, in his most honest, public-information officer's voice, `I'd have to obtain clearances and confirmation of need-to-know from your department, and then I'd have to pass it on to the Army, and then -'

`Okay, fine. Do it.'

`You have to supply the clearances.'

`I haven't got time.'

`You're asking me on an open line to define a hot new weapons system and break its code and you haven't got '

`Look,' Graves said. `If I call Phelps, can he call you and requisition this information?'

'Verbal requisition?' Morrison seemed shocked. `This is pretty heavy stuff for a verbal. You sure you don't want specifications on the ABM sites while you're at it, and maybe Polaris submarine coordinates? Any other minor details?'

Graves suppressed his anger. Morrison was such a bureaucratic ass. `I need the information,' he repeated. `I need it now.'

`Sounds like this may be a matter for Defence to look into,' Morrison said. `We'd be curious to know how you got that coding in the first place. Why don't you forward us a complete report along with a requisition AB-212; that's the green form. I may be able to release the data to you in a day or so, and -'

Graves hung up.

`This is Graves.'

`I know who it is,' Phelps said. `What do you have to say for yourself?'

'Binary 75 slash 76,' Graves said. `It's a coding - I need to know what it means.'

`Binary 75 slash 76,' Phelps said. There was a long pause; faintly, Graves could hear him writing it down. Finally he said, `Are you going to tell me where you came across it?'

`It's what Drew tapped from the system,' Graves said

'Oh,' Phelps said.

`But Drew doesn't know what it means, either.'

`How did he happen to tap in?'

'Wright told him to.'

`Well, did you ask Wright why?'

`No.'

`Why not?'

`I haven't picked him up yet,' Graves said.

`You haven't picked him up yet.'

`That's right.'

`What are you waiting for, a divine edict?'

`I thought I already had that,' Graves said. `But the situation is complicated. You see, Wright asked for more information from the data banks.'

`More information?'

`About a State Department Intelligence officer named John Graves. He pulled my file.'

`Don't be an ass,' Phelps said. `Pick him up immediately. He's on to you, that's clear.'

`Not only is he on to me,' Graves said, `he's showing me a puzzle and daring me to work it out.'

`This is not a fucking poker game,' Phelps said. `We can convict Wright on the basis of evidence we already have, and -'

`You can't touch him,' Graves said. `When he cools down, Drew won't testify against him. You haven't got a prayer of making a case against Wright. Our only chance is to wait - and to get me my own file contents.'

`You're joking.'

`I'm not.'

`It's out of the question.'

`I want to know what he knows.'

`About yourself?'

`Yes. Especially psychological test scores.'

`Out of the question. Unheard of.'

`You've got to do this for me,' Graves said. `You've got to get me that file.'

`I can't requisition it,' Phelps said, `without higher

authority. You know that. You're much better off picking Wright up.'

`Not yet.'

`I have to go to lunch,' Phelps said. `Call me later. I think you're acting like a fool.'

And Phelps hung up.

`State Department.' A singsong voice.

'Office of the Secretary, please.'

`Thank you.' Lilting.

`Secretary of State, can we help you?'

`Mr Burnett, please.' Burnett was one of the Secretary's advisers. Although young, he had worked himself up from a speech writer to a close and influential position. Graves knew him slightly.

`Mr Burnett has gone to lunch and is not back yet. He is expected shortly.'

`Did he leave a number?'

`No, I'm sorry - just a moment, he's coming through the door. Whom shall I say is calling?'

`John Graves. State Intelligence.'

`One moment please, Mr Graves.'

There was a very long wait, and a humming sound as Graves was put on `hold'. Then a click.

'Burnett here.'

`Tom, this is John Graves calling.'

`How are you, John? It's been a long time. When was it? Senator Evans' party, I think. You had a very cute -'

`Listen, Tom. I have a problem. I need your help.'

`I'll do what I can.' Said very smoothly, in the manner that all those people adopted sooner or later. No promises, but very smooth.

Graves paused. `I need my file.'

`Your file?'

`Yes. My Department file.'

`I don't think - just a minute - no, please hold that, I'll call him right back - John?'

`I'm here.'

`I'll have to call him right back. Yes, in a few minutes. Absolutely. Five minutes, tell him five minutes. John?'

`I'm here,' Graves said again.

`Now what was it? Your file?'

`Yes. I need my own file.'

`I've never heard of anyone needing their own file,' Burnett chuckled. `Curiosity, yes, but -'

`Tom. Stop being polite. This is Department business and it's very important.'

`Perhaps you could stop by the office and -'

`I can't stop by the office. I'm not in Washington. I'm in San Diego.'

`Oh?' There was hesitation now, the smoothness gone. `San Diego?'

`I'm doing an SS here. A guy named John Wright. I need my own -'

'Who?'

`John Wright.'

`Well why didn't you say so before? I'll get it to you right away. The Secretary has directed everyone to cooperate fully with the San Diego operation.'