operate overseas, under very dangerous conditions, where the rules of engagement — what could or couldn’t be done under different circumstances — were much looser. Listening in to other people’s conversations was something they did all the time. America was a very different environment, and the ops and support team had not been trained to operate in it.
Admittedly, the lines could be difficult to discern. Examining the contents of a public-access computer was OK, because it was by definition open to the public and there was no expectation of privacy, the same as walking down the street. But a computer in a home was different; Desk Three needed permission to access it.
My fault, thought Rubens. Ultimately, my fault. I haven’t properly prepared my people.
What would Senator McSweeney and his committee say to that?
“Disable the bug immediately,” Rubens told Telach. “Lia is not to place any more surveillance devices without my ex-plicit approval. If she has a problem with that, have her talk to me.”
“Yes, Chief.”
47
Tommy Karr had cut a good jagged line into the bottom of his calf. It wasn’t deep, but it was definitely artistic, looking like a bolt from a Scandinavian lightning god.
Which suited Karr just fine. He cleaned it up and re-dressed it as soon as he woke, pronounced it patched, then went down to the hotel’s breakfast lounge, where he found Charlie Dean drinking coffee at a table tucked between plastic fronds.
“You’re limping,” said Dean.
“Scandinavian, actually.” Karr smiled, then went over to the coffee urn at the side of the room. While he was gone, a waiter came over to take his order; Karr found the man standing idly by the table when he returned.
“You can get the next one,” said Karr, sitting down.
“You sleep all right?” asked Dean.
Karr nearly choked on the coffee. “Whoa — high-test.”
Coffee in Asia tended to be as weak as tea; this was the exception. He felt a caffeine shock rush through his body. “Really gets ya goin’, huh, Charlie?”
“I guess.”
“I slept OK,” said Karr, getting back to Dean’s question.
“How about yourself?”
“Like a lamb.”
“I always wondered about that,” said Karr. “How do lambs really sleep? They look all cuddly and all, but do we really know that they’re sleeping soundly? Maybe they have nightmares about wolves.”
“Could be.” Dean sipped his coffee. “What do you think about swapping assignments? Your leg seems pretty bad.”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“You’re limping.”
“Chafing from the ban dages.” Karr held up his cup.
“Ready for a refill,” he said to the waiter, who was across the room.
“Tommy, is your leg really bad?” asked Marie Telach, who’d been listening in over the com system. Unlike Dean and Lia, Karr almost never turned the system off.
“See, now ya got Mom worried,” Karr told Dean. “I’m fine,” he added, speaking to the Art Room. “What’s the latest on Thao Duong?”
“Still sleeping in his apartment. He got back about three hours after you left.”
“What do you figure he was doing?”
“I believe that’s your job to find out,” said Telach.
“Must be getting toward the end of the shift,” Karr told Dean.
“He’s stirring,” interrupted Sandy Chafetz, their runner.
“Tommy, your subject is getting up.”
“Boy, and I was just about ready to see what they had for breakfast.”
“I’ll go,” offered Dean.
“Nah. Coffee’s got my heart racing anyway. Got to do something to work it off.” Karr got up. “Check in with you later.”
48
Amanda Rauci had no trouble finding the state police impound lot; she simply located the police barracks and then cruised the junkyards and ser vice stations in the area until she saw a lot with two Ford Crown Victorias parked near the fence. The Fords, unmarked police cars put out to pasture, stood guard before a small array of wrecks, a Mustang confiscated from a drug dealer, and Gerald Forester’s Impala, con ve niently located not far from the fence.
It was only just past five, but Amanda decided the place looked deserted enough that she could hop the chain-link fence from the back and not be noticed. But she hadn’t counted on the two large German shepherds, who bounded up on the other side of the fence as she approached.
Amanda backed away.
A supermarket about a mile and a half away was having a sale on hamburger meat; she bought four pounds. But as she checked out, she worried that it wouldn’t be enough of a diversion. She needed something to put them out, not just fill them up.
Amanda found a diner with a phone booth nearby. Setting the tattered phone book on the narrow metal ledge beneath the phone, she began calling vets until she found one willing to give her a mild tranquilizer to calm her dog’s motion sickness.
The office was several miles away, and Amanda got lost twice before she found it. By then it was just a few minutes before closing, and when she went in, the night assistant was walking toward the door with his keys in his hand, ready to lock up. She felt a flutter of panic but quickly pushed it away.
“I called a little while ago about my dog,” she said. “The pills?”
“Uh, pills?”
“Acepromazine,” said Amanda. “It’s for motion sickness, right?”
While generally given for motion sickness, acepromazine was actually a tranquilizer; it mainly calmed dogs down so they could make a long trip. But though the woman Amanda had spoken to on the phone had seemed easygoing and said getting the pills would be no problem, the kid now was suspicious.
“You were supposed to come earlier,” he said.
“I came as quickly as I could.”
“Well, where’s your dog?”
“I couldn’t take him in the car, right? He throws up.” Amanda tried to smile. “The nurse said there would be no problem.”
“That was just Sandy. She’s not like a nurse or anything.
Not even an assistant.”
The young man frowned. Amanda tried smiling again.
“I know it’s late.”
“Let me see if they left you anything,” said the kid finally.
He turned around and went back toward the front desk.
As two or three dogs being boarded started barking in the back, the vet’s assistant stooped under the front counter and retrieved a yellow Post-it.
“Um, what was your name again?” he asked, squinting at the note.
