"The truth," Cliff said. "I have the subject in custody."
"Not so. You made contact with the subject, who is cooperating. You should complete your interrogation shortly. Fair enough?"
"All right," he said, a frown showing his reluctance. He reached for the microphone and repeated what Burke had told him. As he finished the call, he pulled into the motel parking area.
Burke checked in and they went up to his room, which appeared comfortable enough without any expensive frills. There were two double beds and a small round table with two chairs. Burke put his attaché case on the floor beside the table.
"Okay," he said, "where were we? Oh, yeah, you were about to tell me why you connected my phone call with an investigation of Vickers."
Cliff had heard his father was a determined man. He shrugged. "You talked about computer hackers."
Burke put an elbow on the table and leaned forward. "Did he hire a hacker to do something illegal?"
That wasn't difficult to deduce, Cliff thought. "Yes, he did."
"Would it have involved a defense contractor?"
Cliff's eyes narrowed. "Why did you ask that?"
"I'm sorry, Cliff. I wish I could, but I can't tell you."
"Why not? You realize with what you've told me so far, I should take you downtown for questioning. This is a very serious case."
"I'm sure it is. But I'm going to have to insist that you forget everything I've said." Burke's voice took on a new note of gravity.
Cliff stared. Surely he wasn't serious. But he certainly looked and sounded like it. "You want to get me fired? I can't do that."
"You could report that we talked and you concluded I knew nothing about the subject of your investigation. I was merely interested in learning about a book on hackers that Vickers was supposed to be writing."
Cliff shook his head. "I won't lie on a report, Dad. Not even for you." That use of the term "Dad" had a strange ring to it, but he thought he liked it.
Burke's frown softened. "I'm happy to hear you say that. Unfortunately, this is a bit more serious than you realize. I shouldn't even tell you this much, but under the circumstances, I guess it's necessary. I'm here on a mission for the President that must stay absolutely secret. But I don't expect you to take my word for it. Do you know who General Henry Thatcher is?"
"General Thatcher? The President's National Security Advisor?"
"Right." He picked up the telephone from the beside stand and stretched the cord over to the table. "I want you to call General Thatcher, tell him who you are and where you are, that you have Burke Hill in custody."
"Where would I find him?"
"Call the White House and ask the operator for extension 9999. It's an emergency number for the National Security Council. Then tell the person who answers to connect you with 'Canon.' That's the general's code name. They can reach him wherever he is."
Cliff followed the instructions and after a few minutes heard a gravelly voice answer, "Thatcher."
He said exactly what Burke had instructed.
"You've what?" General Thatcher's voice exploded like a bomb. "Let me speak to Burke Hill."
Burke took the phone. "This is Burke, General. How are you?"
Cliff listened as Burke held the phone to his ear, nodding, then said, "It isn't as bad as it sounds. I was carrying out the plan that we discussed Saturday when the FBI intercepted my call to Dr. Vickers. They have a tap on his phone. Agent Walters had me under surveillance when I left Vickers' office. I realized I was being followed and decided it was best to make contact with him before it went any further. He's a conscientious young fellow who won't compromise his professional ethics by lying about me."
Cliff was impressed. Then he heard his dad said, "They only know I talked with Vickers about computer hackers. It looks like the Bureau is onto him for the same thing."
After a few moments, Burke covered the mouthpiece. "He wants to talk to you."
Cliff took the phone. "This is Agent Walters."
"I assume you know who I am, Walters?" growled General Thatcher, sounding like a bear ready to start up a tree after his victim.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Mr. Burke Hill is involved in a project for the President that is classified about as high as you can imagine. It concerns a grave matter of national security. Only a very small circle of people even know of its existence. You weren't intended to be one of them, but you've stumbled into it. The Director of the FBI isn't one, either, and right now we don't plan to expand the circle to include him. The President has given me full authority to do whatever is necessary to safeguard this operation. I hope you're going to tell me that I won't need to have the Director order you to disassociate Mr. Hill from whatever you're investigating."
The National Security Advisor paused for a reply, and Cliff Walters bit at his lower lip. He was greatly relieved to know that the father he had just discovered was not involved in any criminal activity. And he knew that it wouldn't enhance his career to defy the White House. But he still wasn't willing to file a misleading report without a direct order.
"Sir, I'm willing to report whatever you say, as long as I get it officially, in writing."
"Damn!" The word carried a note of disbelief. "On the battlefield, I'd probably have you shot. I might anyway, but the President wouldn't approve of it. All right. I'll have a letter marked Top Secret delivered to you by military courier. I'll expect you to keep it buried somewhere until I give you permission to exhume it, or should you have to produce it to get the Bureau off your ass. Meanwhile, you report whatever Burke Hill tells you to, then you forget you ever ran into him, and you never talked to me. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good night."
Cliff turned to Burke and grinned. "He told me to forget I ever ran into you."
Burke grimaced. "He can be a real bastard. I'll countermand that order. Next time I see him, I'll tell him you're my son. One last thing. What exactly did Dr. Vickers do?"
"We haven't wrapped up the case yet, but he apparently hired a hacker to break into the classified computer of a ballistic missile manufacturer and stole some plans."
"I was told you couldn't do that without knowing the codes and passwords."
"You were told correctly. And he did."
Chapter 55
Although Captain Yun hadn't joined in her conversion to Christianity, his wife thought he should have a proper sendoff into the next world. She asked her pastor to handle the funeral. It was blessedly brief. Se-jin and his fiancee, Han Mi-jung, resplendent in their dress blue uniforms, accompanied the solemn-faced widow. A police honor guard took part. Despite that gesture, Lieutenant Yun was unhappy that the director of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Bureau was not present to demonstrate the bureau's respect for his father's long and distinguished service. The reasoning behind the low-key approach had been explained to him, and he agreed nothing should be done that might stir harmful passions against the North at a time when unification appeared a genuine prospect. Nevertheless, it left him with a gnawing sense of resentment, a feeling that Captain Yun Yu-sop was being shunned almost as though he had died as the result of something acutely embarrassing, like a venereal disease.
The senior officer at the service was the head of the Special Security Group, Superintendent General Choi, Yun's old high school classmate. Afterward, he came over with the flag that had covered the coffin and presented it to the Captain's widow.
"Captain Yun's death was particularly saddening to me," said Choi, "since I was the one who arranged for him to make the trip to Pyongyang. He was a talented and dedicated officer. I probably had greater respect for him than any other officer in the bureau."