“He’s not using one code, he’s using thousands of them, all essentially simple word and number substitutions, none of which is ever used more than once. For example, in one message the letter e could be signified by a multidigit number, say five six eight four. In the next, it’s signified with a word set, like ‘cheese,’ ‘basketball,’ ‘Thursday,’ ‘Mormon,’ but no two ever the same.”
“I understand how a tear pad works,” MacIntyre said. “There’s never a large enough baseline to analyze for decryption. You can’t transmit the Encyclopaedia Britannica or a digital breakdown of the roof of the Sistine Chapel using one, but it’s good enough for basic messaging.”
“And good enough for Harconan’s needs,” Christine agreed. “He must have a computer program that generates huge batches of these code sets. Then he distributes a bunch of inexpensive laptops to his key agents, all of them preprogrammed with an individual set of codes for that specific agent. The code sets are likely designed to sequentially roll over after each use, with the previous code being erased.
“The laptops will be stand-alones that probably have been physically modified so they can’t be networked, guaranteeing man-breaks in the system. After encryption, a message has to be downloaded onto a data disk or card and then physically inserted into a second computer for transmission over the Internet.
“To make things even tougher, according to the transmission addresses, none of this second-level stuff ever comes out of a Harconan Limited office or a personal computer. It inevitably dumps and loads through a public Internet access like a library, a post office, or a business services center at a big hotel. Even if we could track down the holder of one of these boxes and pulled the code set, it would only give us the communications string for that specific agent.”
“Presumably when an agent runs low on codes, he gets sent a new laptop.”
“Exactly, sir. There will only be one master program, with all of the code sets assigned to all of the agents. That will be a stand-alone main frame on Palau Piri. You can bet it will be isolated and impossible to hack from any outside access, and it will be physically guarded like Fort Knox.”
“Enigma rides again,” MacIntyre grunted. He swiveled his chair away from the intel for a moment, staring toward the open porthole in the bulkhead, then turned back. “Tell me, Chris. Does Amanda — Captain Garrett — know about this encryption system of Harconan’s? Did you brief her on it before she went out to Palau Piri?”
It was Christine’s turn to look away. “No, sir, I didn’t. I was waiting for confirmation from cyberwar on certain aspects of the system before discussing the matter with Captain Garrett.”
“Translation,” MacIntyre stated flatly. “You didn’t want to risk her poking around after that mainframe.”
Something hot and angry flared in Christine’s eyes as she looked up. “No, sir, I did not. She’s running a big enough risk as is, being out there with Harconan. I didn’t want her stretching the envelope.”
MacIntyre put an edge on his voice. “And you don’t think Captain Garrett is capable of executing her own good judgment in this matter, Commander?”
“No sir! I do not!” The words slipped out without her meaning them to. Christine mentally floundered for a way to recall them. Shit, MacIntyre was the only person who’d ever had the knack of flipping her open like that…
The admiral’s soft chuckle eased her. “Stand easy, Chris. I fully concur with your decision. If you had told her about this damn thing, you, I, and God all know she’d make a try for it.”
Somber-eyed, Christine studied the admiral. At one time she’d thought she had this blocky, plain-spoken man figured. Of late, though, she’d started to sense well-hidden subtleties and a capacity for perception that could be a little unnerving at times.
Such as now.
“You’re worried about her being around Harconan, aren’t you?” he continued.
“Of course, sir. Who wouldn’t be?”
Maclntyre’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re talking about something more than just a tricky tactical situation here, Chris. You’ve assessed something that you don’t like, but you don’t want to speak about it. That suggests to me it’s not professional, it’s personal.”
“Did you ever serve a tour with Intelligence, sir?” Christine asked ruefully.
“No, but I am raising a teenage daughter. The skills required are similar. I’ve found that if something’s making you jumpy, it should be talked about. There are only two of us here. Now, what’s going on?”
Christine sighed and hesitated a final second. Damn, did this have to come out with this man? “I’m afraid Captain Garrett… Amanda… might be getting in over her head in this situation in ways she doesn’t understand herself.”
Christine stalled again, groping to put instincts into words, to give verbalization to deeply personal thoughts.
“Just say it,” MacIntyre said patiently.
“Admiral, Amanda Garrett is a nun!”
Maclntyre’s eyebrows shot up! “What?”
Christine let the words free flow. “I mean, in her way, Amanda has lived a very closed existence. For all of her life she’s been married to the Navy in the same way a nun is married to the Church. It’s her world. Even before she attended Annapolis she was brought up in a Navy environment. As her friend, I can say for a fact that the last time she had a major personal relationship outside of the Navy was in high school.”
“And your point?” MacIntyre asked, puzzled.
Christine took a deep breath. “My point is, she has never had exposure to a man like Makara Harconan or to his ultra-high-roller kind of world. Right now she is way the hell off her playing field, involved in a game she doesn’t really understand, and I’m scared spitless that she won’t realize it until it’s too late.”
MacIntyre stared from across the desk. “You can’t mean… Good God, Chris. Are you seriously proposing that this pirate could… turn Amanda’s head?”
Christine shook her head. “Not to fall in love, sir. Not the genuine article. Not the kind of thing that would ever make her deliberately betray the task force or the Navy. But she might be knocked off her feet enough to be blinded to some personal risks, physical or emotional. We aren’t the ones in danger here, Admiraclass="underline" Amanda is.”
MacIntyre shot out of his chair and paced off the length of the limited office space. “That’s ridiculous, Commander. That’s just… flatly… ridiculous!”
“Sir, I wish to God it was!” Christine exclaimed, turning in her chair to follow him. “But shit of that nature happens, and with alarming frequency. How many times have you heard of some male officer totally screwing up his life with some chickiepoo not worth the powder to blow her to hell?”
MacIntyre didn’t reply immediately, but the expression on his face indicated he was thinking of any number of prime examples. “But not Amanda,” he said finally. “She has too much common sense to do anything like that.”
“Sir, trust me. When glands override brains, women can be just as gonzo as men.” Christine popped the center of her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Jeez, this is intense woman stuff. How do I say it? Females can be drawn to men of power. Anthropologists say it’s because our instinct is to seek out strong genes and good providers for our children. Be that as it may, certain supermasculine types can sometimes really trip our switches. Makara Harconan is one of those types. He is a total package. He’s highly intelligent, he is highly successful, he is personable, intensely dynamic, and, if you’re a woman, he is drop-dead gorgeous!