“I’m not privy to such information,” Bob replied calmly, and then he masked his reaction by taking another sip of wine.
Ernie smiled but did not press further, a reaction that John thought strange coming from this man. He saw Ernie glance over at Linda and read that there was something else up their sleeves, something beyond speculation regarding a “package” at Wallops Island, a place John was finding hard to place on a map.
“General, we’ve been picking up something else,” Linda interjected.
“Go on.”
“You know as well as I do that all systems, no matter how secure, are porous, only as secure as their weakest link, meaning personnel link. Recall some high-level types before the Day who would sit at home late at night, using their personal servers to send out chatty e-mails and then mixed with notes to friends, family, something official and classified?”
“I do,” Bob said, his features clouding with obvious disgust at such stupidity.
“Easy enough to crack if they break security protocols. Do that and a door might be wide open for someone to snoop into. Well, we’ve got such a person at Bluemont.”
“Go on.” After taking another drink of wine, Bob put the glass down on the table next to Ernie, who did not hesitate to pour in several more precious ounces while Bob took another puff on his cigar, and John gladly inhaled next to him. The entire Internet and computer security game was something he would readily admit was beyond him, so it was always fascinating to listen in on something like this.
“General Scales, what is ‘Site R’?”
John could see Bob stiffen at Linda’s query.
“Could you repeat that one, Linda?”
“Site R, and your response tells me that means something to you.”
There was a long moment of silence from Bob. Cigars had always been an excellent means of giving a man a moment to gather his thoughts as he appeared to examine the glowing tip, knock off a bit of ash, and take another meditative puff, which is exactly what Bob did, and it spoke volumes to John, who remained silent.
“Linda, I am not sure what you are driving at, and as far as this Site R is concerned, I have no comment.”
“Then it’s classified?” Linda snapped, her voice like that of a prosecuting attorney closing in for the kill.
She stood up, went over to a filing cabinet alongside Ernie’s desk, pulled it open, drew out a file folder, and tossed it on Ernie’s desk next to where Bob was sitting.
“My Site R file, General. Sorry, but our regular printer was fried off on the Day. We did scrounge up an old dot matrix printer from the college library and a couple of boxes of paper but no extra printer cartridges. My handwritten notes—excuse them, some people say I have a miserable left-handed scrawl—but take a look, General.”
Bob picked up the file folder, opened it, and held it up close to try to read the faded printouts and all but illegible handwriting. He finally gave up and put the folder back on the table. “What are these?”
She smiled, the smile of the legendary Cheshire cat, luring by its cryptic words its prey coming in closer for the kill. “We started to monitor this person over a week ago. He was breaking standard encrypting. Our profile, a bureaucrat at Bluemont. E-mails bouncing all the way up to their satellite system and back down to an address at a place called Site R. Personal stuff; hope it is his wife rather than a girlfriend, because if it is a girlfriend and he’s married, the bastard should be hanged. Some of it the usual sticky stuff, some of it, well, all this proper Southern girl can say is, it got very randy at times between the two, though that girl Samantha who was tracking it day and night got more than a few laughs.”
Linda smiled at that, and even Ernie chuckled.
“He sure is horny.”
“Ernie!” Linda snapped.
“Well, he is. And in this starving world, you gotta be damn young or very well fed to have enough surplus energy to think the way those two are. It used to be called sexting, I think.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Linda shot back, and Ernie visibly wilted.
“Hey, let’s call that TMI,” John snapped, though he was now curious to look at the files as well, even though from Bob’s expression it was obvious Linda had hit a major nerve at the mention of Site R.
“Please continue,” Bob said softly as he picked up the file folder and began to thumb through it again.
“Site R, as I was saying. We wondered where it was. For all we knew, it could be some island in the Indian Ocean, England, Antarctica, and the e-mails just pathetic longings. But then it cracked open wider. Our horny Romeo appears to be making his plaintive cries of undying love and longing right under Juliet’s balcony.”
“How do you know that?” Bob asked.
“He said he had a seat on the weekly shuttle chopper. Once things settled down when the package was delivered, he would be able to visit her again. Something about a five-day personal leave, a quick flight, and plenty of time then with his lover. She replied that she is getting sick of being stuck in Site R and asked why can’t she just get a posting to Bluemont and then they could be together all the time. He then dodged off on his reply and, get this, said that no one is supposed to know that he, and I quote, ‘got you out to safety at Site R.’”
Bob looked at her wide-eyed, obviously taken completely off guard, and she indeed did smile openly now. Whatever her game, John realized, she had just sprung it on an obviously unsuspecting general.
He opened the file folder again, held up the pages closely, and started to scan through them one by one. Cursing softly, he reached into his breast pocket to produce a pair of reading glasses, put them on, and for long minutes scanned through the files.
All were silent. Ernie puffed on his cigar, and after draining the precious glass of Malbec, without offering to those around him, he pulled out the nearly empty bottle of brandy, poured a stiff drink, and swiftly downed it, earning a sharp glance from Linda.
Bob finally put the file back down with a sigh. “Damn all to hell,” he whispered, and he held his empty glass up for Ernie to reluctantly refill with what was left in the brandy bottle and took it all down in a couple of quick gulps. “Can I keep this file?” he asked.
Linda shook her head. “If it’s as important as I think it now is, the answer is no.”
“And if I just take it?”
“You don’t leave here if you try.”
He nodded, looking over at John. “You reason with her. I want this file. I need this file.”
There was an urgency to Bob’s appeal that spoke volumes to John, who wordlessly gave an appealing look to Linda. She was silent for a moment, considering her answer.
“I assume John is under arrest and going with you, General Scales.”
Bob, who was leaning over toward Ernie, who was relighting his cigar, looked back at Linda. “Yes, he is, but don’t tell your family and the students here that. We don’t need a scene.”
“John?” She looked at him sharply. He realized all he had to do was announce he had no intentions of going and all in this house would resist his leaving and if need be hold Scales as hostage.
“Give the file to me, Linda,” John said. “You can trust me with it. Bob, can I take responsibility for the file?”
Scales nodded in ready agreement. John reached over to pick it up without waiting for her reply and then turned his gaze back to her.
“All right, John.” Her voice was choked with emotion.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Bob said, and setting his glass down, he swiftly stood up.
Linda stood up and went up to John and hugged him. “When do I see you again, John Matherson?”
“Don’t worry; just keep everyone here safe.”
She started to stifle back tears.
Bob reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, you just might have changed the paradigm. I hope you can trust me.”