“This is the third time she’s come to bug you.”
“At first she was a pain, but now we’ve sort of become friends. She keeps asking about Pendergast, what he’s up to, when he’s coming back.”
Hayward frowned. Almost any mention of Pendergast, it seemed, was sufficient to rub her the wrong way, even after their informal partnership earlier that year. “What do you tell her?”
“The truth. That I wish I knew myself.”
“You haven’t heard anything more from him?”
“Not since that call from Edinburgh. When he said he didn’t want my help.”
“Pendergast scares me,” said Hayward. “You know, he gives the impression of being in icy control. But underneath… he’s like a maniac.”
“A maniac who solves cases.”
“Vinnie, a case isn’t exactly solved if the suspect ends up dead. When was the last time Pendergast actually took a case to trial? And now this business about his wife being alive—”
D’Agosta laid down his fork, his appetite gone. “I’d rather you didn’t talk that way about Pendergast. Even if—”
“Even if I’m right?”
D’Agosta didn’t respond. She had touched a nerve; never had he been so worried about his friend.
There was a moment of silence. And then — with some surprise — D’Agosta felt Hayward’s hand close over his.
“I love your loyalty,” she said. “And your integrity. I want you to know I’ve come to respect Pendergast more than I used to, even if I abhor his methods. But you know what? He’s right to shut you out of this one. That man is poison to a career in law enforcement.
CHAPTER 38
ALOYSIUS PENDERGAST STROLLED INTO THE LOBBY of an unremarkable building on the campus of the National Security Agency. He checked his weapon and shield with a waiting soldier, walked through a metal detector, stepped up to the reception desk. “The name is Pendergast. I have an appointment to see General Galusha at ten thirty.”
“Just a moment.” The secretary made a call, then filled out a temporary ID badge. She nodded and another soldier with a sidearm came over.
“Follow me, sir.”
Pinning the ID to the breast pocket of his jacket, Pendergast followed the soldier to a bank of elevators, where they descended a number of levels. The doors opened into a bleak maze of cinder-block corridors that eventually brought them to a nondescript door marked only GEN. GALUSHA.
The guard knocked politely and a voice within said, “Enter.”
The guard opened the door and Pendergast went in, the guard closing the door after him, prepared to wait outside until the appointment was over.
Galusha was a neat, soldierly looking man in casual military fatigues, the single black star Velcroed to his chest patch the only evidence of rank. “Please sit down,” he said. His demeanor was cool.
Pendergast seated himself.
“I have to tell you up front, Agent Pendergast, that I can’t respond to your request until you and your FBI superiors go through the usual channels. And I don’t see how, exactly, I could be of help to you in any case.”
For a moment, Pendergast did not respond. Then he cleared his throat. “As one of the, ah, gatekeepers of M-LOGOS, you could be a great deal of help to me, General.”
Galusha went very still. “And just what do you know of M-LOGOS, Agent Pendergast… assuming such a thing exists?”
“I know quite a bit about it. For example, I know that it is the most powerful computer yet built by humankind — and that it is located in a hardened bunker beneath this building. I know that it is a massively parallel processing system, running a special AI known as Stutter-Logic, and that it has been designed for a single purpose: to data- mine information on potential threats to national security. The threats could be of any kind: terrorism, industrial espionage, domestic hate group activity, market manipulation, tax evasion, even the emergence of pandemics.”
He crossed one leg delicately over the other. “In pursuit of this objective, M-LOGOS maintains a database containing all kinds of information: from cell phone records and e-mails to the tracking of highway tolls, medical and legal records, social networking sites, and university research databases. The database is said to contain names and information on virtually one hundred percent of all individuals within U.S. borders, all cross-referenced and cross-linked. I don’t know what the percentage is for individuals outside America, but I think it’s safe to say that M-LOGOS possesses all the information that exists in digital form about most human beings in the industrialized world.”
Throughout this, the general had remained silent and motionless. Now he spoke. “That was quite a little speech, Agent Pendergast. And just how have you come by such information?”
Pendergast shrugged. “My work at the FBI has taken me into several — shall we say — exotic areas of investigation. But let me answer a question with a question: if Americans had any idea how thorough, comprehensive, and well organized the M-LOGOS database was — and how much information the government possessed on American citizens in good standing — what do you think the response would be?”
“But they won’t know, will they? Because such a revelation would be a treasonous act.”
Pendergast inclined his head. “I’m not interested in revelations. I’m interested in a single person.”
“I see. And I take it that you’d like us to find this individual in the M-LOGOS database.”
Pendergast crossed his legs and leveled his gaze at General Galusha. He said nothing.
“Since you know so much, you must also know that access to M-LOGOS is highly restricted. I just can’t open it up to any agent who walks in… even one as intrepid as you seem to be.”
Still Pendergast did not speak. His sudden silence, after such an extended soliloquy, seemed to irritate Galusha.
“I’m a busy man,” he said.
Pendergast recrossed his legs. “General, please confirm that you have the authorization to grant — or not grant — my request without involving others.”
“I do, but I’m not going to play games with you. There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant such a request.”
Again Pendergast let the silence build, until Galusha frowned again. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think we’re done here.”
“No,” said Pendergast simply.
Galusha’s eyebrows went up. “No?”
With a smooth motion, Pendergast removed a document from his suit jacket and laid it on the desk.
Galusha looked at it. “What the hell — this is my resume!”
“Yes. Very impressive.”
Galusha stared at him with narrowed eyes.
“General, I can see that you are basically a good officer, loyal to his country, who has served with real distinction. For that reason I truly regret what I am about to do.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’d like you to answer another question: why did you feel the need to lie?”
A long silence.
“You served in Vietnam. You won a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and two Purple Hearts. You rose through the ranks by ability alone — nobody helped you. And yet it’s all built on a lie, because you never matriculated from the
