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have nothing to worry about.”
“Right now, the only thing I worry about,” Soraya said, “is you, Mr. LaValle.”
“I understand completely.” LaValle finished off his whiskey. “That’s what this
exercise is all about, Director. To engender trust between us. How else could we be
expected to work together?”
General Kendall sent Soraya back to the district with one of his drivers. She had him
drop her where she’d arranged to meet Kendall, outside what had once been the National
Historical Wax Museum on E Street, SW. She waited until the black Ford had been
swallowed up in traffic, then she turned away, walked all the way around the block at a
normal pace. By the end of her circuit she was certain she was free of tags, NSA or
otherwise. At that point, she sent a three-letter text message via her cell. Two minutes
later, a young man on a motorcycle appeared. He wore jeans, a black leather jacket, a
gleaming black helmet with the smoked faceplate lowered. He slowed, stopped just long
enough for her to climb on behind him. Handing her a helmet, he waited for her to don it,
then he zoomed off down the street.
I have several contacts within DARPA,” Deron said. DARPA was an acronym for the
Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, an arm of the Department of Defense. “I
have a working knowledge of the software architecture at the heart of the NSA’s
surveillance system.” He shrugged. “This is one way I keep my edge.”
“We gotta find a way around it or through it,” Tyrone said.
He was still wearing his black leather jacket. His black helmet was on a table alongside
the one he’d given Soraya for the high-speed trip here to Deron’s house-lab. Soraya had
met both Deron and Tyrone when Bourne had brought her to this nondescript olive-
colored house just off 7th Street, NE.
“You must be joking, right?” Deron, a tall, slim, handsome man with skin the color of
light cocoa, looked from one to the other. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“If we were joking we wouldn’t be here.” Soraya rubbed the heel of her hand against
her temple as she sought to ignore the fierce headache that had began after her terrifying
interview with LaValle and Kendall.
“It’s just not possible.” Deron put his hands on his hips. “That software is state-of-the-
art. And two thousand CCTV cameras! Fuck me.”
They sat on canvas chairs in his lab, a double-height room filled with all ma
monitors, keyboards, electronic systems whose functions were known only to Deron.
Ranged around the wall were a number of paintings-all masterpieces by Titian, Seurat,
Rembrandt, van Gogh. Water Lilies, Green Reflection, Left Part was Soraya’s favorite.
That all of them were painted by Deron in the atelier in the next room had stu
first time she was here. Now they simply filled her with wonder. How he had reproduced
Monet’s exact shade of cobalt blue was beyond her. It was hardly surprising that Bourne
used Deron to forge all his ID documents, when in this day and age it was becoming
increasingly difficult to do. Many forgers had quit, claiming governments had made their
job impossible, but not Deron. It was his stock in trade. Little wonder that he and Bourne
were so close. Birds of a feather, Soraya thought.
“What about mirrors?” Tyrone said.
“That would be simplest,” Deron said. “But one of the reasons they’ve installed so
many cameras is to give the system multiple views of the same area. That negates mirrors
right there.”
“Too bad Bourne killed dat fucker Karim al-Jamil. He could probably write a worm
t’screw with the DARPA software like he did with the CI database.”
Soraya turned to Deron. “Can it be done?” she said. “Could you do it?”
“Hacking’s not my thing. I leave that to my old lady.”
Soraya didn’t know Deron had a girlfriend. “How good is she?”
“Please,” Deron snorted.
“Can we talk to her?”
Deron looked dubious. “This is the NSA we’re talking about. Those fuckers don’t fool
around. To be frank, I don’t think you ought to be messing with them in the first place.”
“Unfortunately, I have no choice,” Soraya said.
“They fuckin’ wid us,” Tyrone said, “and unless we get all medieval on they ass, they
go
Deron shook his head. “You sure put some interesting notions in this man’s head,
Soraya. Before you came along he was the best street protection I ever had. Now look at
him. Messing with the big boys in the bad world outside the ghetto.” He didn’t hide the
pride he felt for Tyrone, but his voice held a warning, too. “I hope to hell you know what
you’re getting yourself into, Tyrone. If this thing comes apart in any way you’re in the
federal slammer till Gabriel comes calling.”
Tyrone crossed his arms over his chest, stood his ground.
Deron sighed. “All right, then. We’re all adults here.” He reached for his cell. “Kiki’s
upstairs in her lair. She doesn’t like to be interrupted, but in this case I think she’ll be intrigued.” He spoke briefly into the cell, then put it down. Moments later a slim woman
with a beautiful African face and deep chocolate skin appeared. She was as tall as Deron,
with the upright carriage of proud and ancient royalty.
Her face split into a ferocious grin when she saw Tyrone. “Hey,” they said to each
other. That one word seemed all that was needed.
“Kiki, this is Soraya,” Deron said.
Kiki’s smile was wide and dazzling. “My name’s actually Esiankiki. I’m Masai. But in
America I’m not so formal; everyone calls me Kiki.”
The two women touched hands. Kiki’s grip was cool and dry. She regarded Soraya out
of large coffee-colored eyes. She had the smoothest skin Soraya had ever seen, which she
instantly envied. Her hair was very short, marvelously cut like a cap to fit her elongated
skull. She wore a brown ankle-length dress that clung provocatively to her slim hips and
small breasts.
Deron briefly outlined the problem while he brought up the DARPA software
architecture on one of his computer terminals. While Kiki checked it out, he filled her in
on the basics. “We need something that can bypass the firewall, and is undetectable.”
“The first isn’t all that difficult.” Kiki’s long, delicate fingers were flying over the
keyboard as she experimented with the computer code. “The second, I don’t know.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it.” Deron positioned himself so he could peer
over her shoulder at the terminal. “This particular software controls two thousand CCTV
cameras. Our friends here need to get in and out of the facility without being detected.”
Kiki stood up, turned around to face them. “In other words all two thousand cameras
have to be covered.”
“That’s right,” Soraya said.
“You don’t need a hacker, dear. You need the invisible man.”
“But you can make them invisible, Kiki.” Deron slid his arm around her slender waist
“Can’t you?”
“Hmm.” Kiki peered again at the code on the terminal. “You know, there looks like
there may be a recurring variance I might be able to exploit.” She hunkered down on a
stool. “I’m going to transfer this upstairs.”
Deron winked at Soraya, as if to say, I told you so.
Kiki routed a number of files to her computer, which was separate from Deron’s. She
spun around, slapped her hands on her thighs, and got up. “Okay, then, I’ll see you all
later.”
“How much later?” Soraya said, but Kiki was already taking the stairs three at a time.
Moscow was wreathed in snow when Bourne stepped off the Aeroflot plane at
Sheremetyevo. His flight had been delayed forty minutes, the jet circling while the