“Imagine the speed of a bullet,” Nathan said.
“Okay,” she said. “Really, really fast.”
“Well, this jet flies even faster.”
“If you’ll excuse me for a bit,” Uri said. “I have something else to get into the sky.”
Nathan looked at him inquisitively.
“A drone.”
“Ah, right,” Nathan said.
“Once it’s localised over the Mojave, we start recording. I’ll make sure we have a real-time view on the wall-mounted monitor over there by Gene’s workstation.”
“Do we have to keep an eye on it?” Emily asked.
“Not necessary,” Uri said. “We’ll configure the drone to send an audible alert as soon as it detects movement of something like a truck or a person. Don’t want it sounding off every time a lizard crawls out of its hole.”
“So, how does it work?” Emily asked. “It just hovers on its four propellers over a spot and keeps a lookout?”
“Drone is actually the wrong word,” Uri said. “It’s just what everyone seems to call it. Don’t get a military drone confused with those toys you buy at Walmart. What we use is correctly termed Unmanned Aerial Vehicle, or UAV. It looks just like a small aircraft, but the single propeller is at the back and they have long, narrow wings allowing for better lift and stability. The swivel camera is mounted on the front. They’re very slow, and when used for surveillance, will simply fly over the same spot in a wide circle. They stay up in the air for about forty hours before refueling is required.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emily was starting to get used to this high-tech stealth and surveillance world she had entered into. What had once disturbed her, now secretly excited her.
Half an hour later, Uri was back. “Just had an idea,” he said, walking over to a computer near the wall-mounted TV. From behind, they watched as he entered something into the keyboard. In a minute, a familiar view was displayed. The end of runway 4L-22R at JFK airport in New York.
“It will be a while before the drone is over the Mojave. In the meantime, we can watch James coming in to land,” he said. “It should be in about an hour.”
“How cool is that?” Emily said.
“Won’t the Blackbird attract some unwanted attention?” Nathan asked.
“People around JFK are used to seeing military aircraft landing and taking off. The SR-71 is remarkably old technology. Not even the most curious onlookers pay attention to it any more,” Uri said.
“The fastest plane ever built, and nobody cares,” Emily said.
“It’s the world we live in today, Emily,” Uri said. “Nobody cares about anything any more that doesn’t involve themselves. People are more obsessed about getting likes on their Facebook account than they are with what’s going on in the real world around them.”
Isn’t that the truth, she thought.
“How are you getting on with cracking those illustrations?” Uri asked.
“Looks like I’ll be at it for quite a while.”
“Is there anyone that can help?”
“Not really,” she said. “I have a feeling that this is either misdirection, or it’s so obvious that I just don’t see it.”
“How about you, Nate?”
“At this point, I just want to know what in this document is authentic, and what isn’t,” he said. “I wonder if LaForgue really doesn’t know where Kubacki is.”
“Let’s take a walk to my lab,” Uri suggested. “Emily, Obadiah, you want to stretch your legs for a bit?”
Ten minutes later they were all comfortably seated in the casual chairs of Uri’s oversized workplace three levels below Hangar-6.
“I wanted to talk in private,” Uri said. “This is one of the few places that’s absolutely void of any sort of surveillance. Gene won’t say a word to anyone about what he hears or sees, but Building-3A is monitored at all levels. Something tells me most of what goes on in Level-2 is closely monitored by LaForgue. I presume you’ve noticed the cameras mounted everywhere.”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “But considering what we’re doing is all for her benefit, I don’t see that we have anything to hide.”
“Thing is,” Uri said. “I no longer trust her. She has some sort of personal agenda, and until I know what that is, I’m going to remain cautious.”
“James feels much the same,” Emily said. “But I think that, in his case, it’s more than just mistrust. I imagine he despises her.”
“That much I understand. From the short time I’ve known James, I’ve learned one thing about him; he has absolutely no tolerance for anyone else’s bullshit.”
“You’ve got that right,” Nathan said, with conviction.
“My concern is that I have no way to talk to James without it getting back to LaForgue,” Uri said.
Nathan looked at him. “You said your workplace isn’t monitored?”
“If you have something to talk about in private, this is probably the best place,” Uri said.
“Not talk about, but rather something to give you.” Nathan took out his phone and activated an app. He passed his phone over to Uri. “Enter your phone’s PIN into that app.”
Hesitantly, Uri did so. The PIN was not shown in clear-text, but a string of asterisks. He returned Nathan’s phone.
Nathan punched something in. “I’ve just sent you an application. The purpose of you entering your PIN into my phone was so that I could send point-to-point, not through a cell tower or Wi-Fi.”
Uri looked at his phone. There was a new app with SkyTech’s logo. “And this does what?” he asked.
“You can use it as a phone or messenger app,” Nathan explained. “Difference is that you can only talk to people at SkyTech and the communication will never be intercepted by the NSA.”
“You’re kidding,” Uri said, with a broad smile.
Nathan briefly described how it worked. “Opening the app will simply show an advert for SkyTech. That’s in case anyone else gets hold of your phone. All you do is enter your PIN and the real app is exposed.” Nathan pointed Uri to the application’s internal directory and explained about the two second delay with phone calls.
“You could make millions overnight selling this on the market,” Uri said, enthusiastically.
“And end up in prison for life,” Nathan said.
“You trust me with this?” Uri asked, with a frown.
“James trusts you,” Nathan said. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Come on,” Emily said. “Let’s get back to Level-2. I want to see James arrive, and I’ve never seen a Blackbird before.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joseph Müller, largely through self-disillusionment and upbringing, had convinced himself that he played the game well. The only reason he found himself in the position as Director of the NSA was through his well-connected father.
J. Levin Müller, the Secretary of State at that time, had a lot of political clout. Joseph Müller should have learned from his father, but instead of aligning himself to the movers and shakers within the conduits of National Security, he made enemies wherever he went. He decided that the path to the top job◦– Director, Office of Security◦– was to undermine everyone. Underlings, peers or superiors, if he could make them fall, he did; and the harder the better. In fact, it elevated his sexual arousal, but having gone through three short-lived marriages◦– two divorces and the untimely, accidental death of his third wife◦– he had to pay prostitutes to have his urges satisfied.
Unfortunately, they, too, were getting a little weary of him, especially the outlandish roleplaying fantasies they were forced into. Having to pretend they were damsels in distress and being rescued by Sir Joseph the Just, knight in shining armour, was pitiful. Being poor, defenceless maidens, how could they possibly reward such kindness from their gallant saviour?