Milt stared at the Portland skyline, but he wasn't really looking at the large glassed buildings. He thought about the wealth that the buildings represented.
Steve Carlson accompanied Milt at the window.
Milt peered at Steve critically. He noticed Steve had not fallen out of shape. His stiff posture, even through a soft, gray suit, exuded a strength and magnitude that resembled nobility. Even though Steve's hair had been speckled with streaks of silver, his finely-trimmed beard included, he still looked more like thirty than fifty. When the two had started Teredata in the 70s, Milt had no idea he would run the company one day. Steve had sold out nearly ten years ago to form his own company, but then he filed bankruptcy and returned to Teredata as Vice President of Operations. It had been uncomfortable for both of them for quite some time.
Milt pressed his hands against the large windows. He though about Jake taking all the risks in the case. Was he setting Jake up, or was he just too scared to explain to the government that they may have let the fastest chip ever produced slip into someone else's hands? He knew his only hope for any salvation over this sticky situation was for Jake to save his butt.
"Maybe we should have told Jake the whole story," Milt said, looking out the window again, watching the rain pelt the glass.
"Yeah, but if we had told everything, he probably wouldn't have taken the job," Steve said. "Why should he? The reason he quit CIA, I hear, is because he was asked to do things and take certain risks that he felt were unnecessary."
"That's not true," Milt said, looking back at Steve. "Jake has always been a bit of a rebel. Even from his days at the OSU, he's always hated the bureaucracy of government. I read some of his editorials when he worked for the college paper. I was surprised when I heard he took a commission in the Air Force, and even more surprised to hear he worked for the CIA. Remember the summer he interned here? He couldn't understand why we produced so many memos." Milt laughed.
Steve smiled. "Do we give him more information?"
"Yes!"
The rainy day had allowed most of the city street lights to remain lit. Milt rarely saw the light of day in January-coming to work in the early morning darkness, and driving home long after the sun had set. He wondered if the sun was shining over his production facilities in Florida and Mexico.
Of course, it was.
CHAPTER 15
Kurt was finally starting to feel human again. He and Toni had spent Sunday evening in an American-style hotel along the Autostrada between Pisa and Rome. Sleep had been restful for the first time in two weeks since he hastily packed and hoped aboard the carrier. In the past, he became accustomed to the slowly swaying rack on the aircraft carrier. But on those cruises he was doing a job with implicit dangers he had trained for. On this past Atlantic crossing, the dangers weren't as clearly defined.
The Monday morning traffic in Rome was far from appealing, but Toni didn't seem to notice a change from the nearly-vacant Autostrada on the Northern outskirts. She sat erect in her bucket seat listening to Rome's version of a morning drive-time talk show with contemporary rock thrown in from time to time to keep the drivers from switching the channel.
Kurt liked the way she was holding up after a few days on the road. She was obviously used to this wandering life.
"Toni, do you ever get sick of traveling throughout Europe? I mean, wouldn't it be nice to grab a hot dog and watch a baseball game?" Kurt asked.
Toni didn't answer.
"I haven't been here that long," Kurt said." So everything is new to me. I think it would take awhile before I got bored with Italy."
Toni turned her Alfa Romeo from the Autostrada at the Central exit heading toward downtown Rome. The traffic swarmed bumper to bumper. Brake lights flickered and horns blared as the clustered cars and trucks positioned for invisible lanes.
"Unfortunately, kid, it becomes commonplace," she finally said. "The first few years I'd be driving down some beautiful Tuscany country road listening to Vivaldi, and a strange feeling would come over me. I'd twist the rear view mirror and look at myself to make sure that it was me behind the wheel. And I'd say to myself, `Toni, you're actually driving down some back road in Italy.' The people back in New York would never believe me. Most people from my neighborhood haven't gone beyond Jersey."
"Do you get back home much?"
"No, not anymore," she said. "I passed through JFK on the way to see Captain Murphy in D.C., but I didn't stay. My dad died when I was young, and my mom died a few years ago. I have a bunch of cousins and uncles there, but every time I stop by they ask me why I'm not married, and where are my bambinos. So I mostly stay away."
Kurt didn't want to push any further. She was the perfect expatriate. She was doing a job that was important, but went mostly unnoticed and was misunderstood by the average American. And she was good. The Navy was splattered with misfits anxious to get away from something or somebody. History hadn't changed that fact.
Toni turned down a one way street in the downtown region and drove a few blocks to a section with a tree-lined boulevard. Then she turned right into a wide two-lane driveway with a large metal gate with spikes and concertina wire on top. A concrete barrier protected the front of a guard shack. The U.S. Marine at the gate recognized Toni and waved her into the compound with only a cursory look at her credentials.
Toni and Kurt had entered through the back of the American Embassy compound. The entrance was reserved for diplomats, distinguished guests, CIA, and even Italian cooks and maids. The average guest used the more impressive front of the building.
With a key, Toni opened a large wooden unmarked door, and climbed a flight of stairs. At the top, a small marble ledge with neglected plants sucked up light from a wall of square glazed tiles. There was a thick metal door with a peep hole and a cipher lock. Toni punched in the right numbers and the door clicked open. Inside was a small unimpressive room with old gray metal desks that could have been left over from a Navy sale. The electronics equipment was state of the art though-the newest fax machines, computers, and secure telephones available. There was a large wall vault that Kurt could only speculate on its contents. Other than the desks, filing cabinets, a small safe, and the visible electronics equipment, the room was empty.
"Nice place, eh, kid?"
Kurt scanned the room one more time.
"And you thought working for the CIA was glamorous," Toni said with a smile as she crossed her arms.
"This desk looks familiar," Kurt said. "Wait a minute. I'm sure I threw this desk overboard at the end of my last cruise off the coast of Florida. Did somebody fish this out of the Atlantic for you?"
Toni laughed her first real laugh since Kurt had met her three days ago. It suited her well. Her smile pushed her high cheek bones even higher, and exposed her straight white teeth.
"You've got a good sense of humor, kid. This office could use that from time to time."
Toni unlocked the small floor safe and pulled out some papers from the front file with a red `Secret' cover sheet. After about a minute of sifting through the papers as a returning vacationer would her mail, she handed them to Kurt.
It was a message from Captain Murphy.
"Shit!"
"You can say that again," Toni said.
"I'll bet Murphy wants to have that Under Secretary for lunch. Why in the hell do they trust civilians with that type of information?" Kurt asked. After he said it, he realized that Toni was also a civilian. "I'm sorry, Toni, no offense intended, it just pisses me off that some drunk bureaucrat can leak this sensitive information."