'Yes.'
'That's what I thought. Don't worry that your cover's blown, Secret Agent Man. I know you well enough to tell you weren't really old friends with her. I doubt anybody else could've told. Just be careful. This isn't your game they're playing.'
'I know. Jen, I really don't like not telling you the truth.'
'I could tell, which is why I'm not upset. Besides, I told you to do this. Just keep any lies to me about this stuff to the bare minimum necessary, okay?'
'I promise.'
Connally met with him again the next day. 'We've gone over everything recorded on the wire.'
'And?'
'It's… not very useful.'
Paul shook his head. 'But Commander Moraine asked to see source-code for our tracking software. That's not something she should be looking at.'
'True.' Connally smiled encouragingly. 'I didn't say there wasn't anything on it. But the psych we had listen to her said that Moraine's request is also consistent with her apparent obsessive-compulsive tendencies. That means it's not as strong an indicator as it would be if the action were uncharacteristic for her.'
Paul sagged backwards. 'That was a lot of trouble for nothing.'
'I didn't say it was for nothing!'
'It didn't help you focus on Commander Moraine.'
'Or Brad Pullman,' Connally agreed. 'I've talked this over with my superiors. We think the only way to resolve this is to set a trap.'
'A trap?' Paul knew he looked alarmed.
'Yes. Relax. This isn't a blazing-gunfire-in-a-dark-alley thing. Do you know anything about taps on computers?'
'Just that they exist. It's one of the things they talk about in security classes.'
'Yes.' Connally gave Paul another smile. 'Taps can either broadcast information from the computer, or alert someone on the outside to actions taken by the computer. The second form is much easier to keep hidden, because a lot less data needs to be sent out.'
'What does this have to do with catching whoever's committing espionage?'
As she spoke, Connally tapped the table surface gently with her fingers to emphasize her points. 'Our target needs to download data onto portable storage media in order to pass it to his or her contacts. There aren't any uncontrolled computers on your ship. Your own security systems prevent any of those from operating or tying into the ship's data.'
Paul nodded. 'Right.'
'Which means our target has to use their own terminal to do the dirty work.'
'Then we'd have a record of it,' Paul objected. 'All we'd have to do is access the system records-'
Connally was shaking her head slowly. 'No. There's software that hides the operations. We have a couple forms of it. So do various bad actors.'
'Then you can search for that software-'
'It loads to do the job, then wipes itself out without a trace. Now, if we could catch our target with a data coin holding that software, we'd be in fat city, but odds are that our target only has the stuff when it's needed. We have to catch our target doing a download of sensitive information with one of our special taps which even that sneaky software won't be able to spot, then nail him or her when they walk off the ship with it. That'll give us probable cause to get search warrants enough to check out personal possessions and dig into financial records. Then we'll have our target just where we want them.'
Paul found himself nodding. 'That makes sense. How do we do that?'
'One part's easy. We'll contact your captain about it. All you need to know is that your ship is going to get some special sensitive information downloaded to it. The second part is a little trickier. We need to physically install the taps in the targets' personal terminals in their staterooms. We'll need your assistance to make that work.'
More spying on his fellow officers. But if it was only two terminals, and the taps only reported illegal downloads, that wasn't so bad, was it? 'Who does this installation? How many people do I have to cover for?'
Connally pointed to herself. 'Me.'
'You? Just you?'
'I'm a woman of many talents. Look, we need to do this without arousing interest. We can't have people openly showing up to work on those terminals during the work day, or even at night. Your own computer people would want to know what was going on.'
'Ensign Taylor can be trusted.'
'I'm sure… she? Yes? I'm sure she can. That's not the point. We don't want anyone else knowing work was done. I can install the taps in a few minutes and not leave any trace for anyone to see. You say you stay aboard the ship some nights?'
'Yeah,' Paul agreed, wondering why he was feeling a sense of unease.
'When's the next night?'
'Day after tomorrow.'
'Great! I'll come aboard in the evening as if I'm visiting you to catch up on old times-'
'Whoa!' Paul held up both hands, palms out. 'You don't think anyone will notice if a good-looking young woman visits me on the ship at night?'
'That doesn't happen?'
'Well, yes, but it's always Jen. My fiancee. If you come onboard some people are going to… well, they'll talk.'
Connally shrugged. 'Not about taps on computers, I'm sure.'
'One of those terminals is in my stateroom! I share the room with Brad Pullman! We can't go in my stateroom alone!'
'I promise not to do anything unladylike, Paul.'
'That's not-' He could tell she was barely keeping from laughing. 'All right, I know it sounds funny, but it does matter to me. I don't want people thinking I'm cheating on Jen. Besides, messing around on a ship is against regulations. I don't want everyone thinking I'm breaking regulations.'
'Fair enough.' Connally frowned in thought, resting her chin on one fist. 'Can you think of any plausible way I can be alone in your stateroom, with the door closed, and in Commander Moraine's stateroom with the door closed? Just for a few minutes.'
Paul thought, too. Then he finally looked back at her. 'Yes. But I'll need one other person's help. An absolutely trustworthy person. I won't have to tell him anything, but frankly we'd have to tell him something anyway because there's too great a chance he'd recognize you as an NCIS agent if he saw you onboard.'
'Who is this?'
'My chief master-at-arms, Ivan Sharpe.'
'Hmmm. Tell me about this idea of yours.'
So Paul did.
Chapter Six
Once again, Paul found himself trying not to act nervous as he answered a call from the petty officer of the watch. 'Mr. Sinclair? You've got a visitor on the quarterdeck, sir.'
'Thanks, I'll be right there.' Paul checked his uniform, feeling absurdly as if this was a date. He paged Sharpe, then walked at a steady gait to the quarterdeck.
Pam Connally was there, looking nice indeed and not at all like a special agent. 'Paul, this is so cool. This is your ship?'
