Point of Contact by Tom Clancy
Feng’s first chance to light up was on the roof, where Jack checked out the palm trees and sun deck and spectacular views of the city. A half-dozen butts later, Jack had seen everything else the Dalfan building had to offer, all the way down to the loading dock and parking lot, with a quick run through the garage where the company vehicles were parked and even the boiler room for good measure. Jack had a good eye for architectural details—especially the kind that came in handy during an emergency.
By the time they were done and back at his office, it was quitting time. Jack shook Feng’s hand again and thanked him for the tour, then tapped on Paul’s door.
“You ready to roll?”
Paul turned around in his swivel chair, yawning. Bai looked pretty frazzled, too.
“Is it already that time?”
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
Lian knocked on the door frame. “Gentlemen, how was your first day?”
“Productive,” Paul said.
Lian glanced at Bai. The young accountant nodded. “Very.”
“You can go home now,” she said to Bai.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Bai stood and grabbed his jacket. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Brown.” He nodded toward Jack and said, “Mr. Ryan,” as he stepped past him and out of the door.
Lian watched him leave. When Bai was out of earshot, she asked, “I’d like to take the two of you out for dinner and drinks. Show you some of the city.”
“What’s the occasion?” Jack asked. He was hoping she was actually becoming human.
“It’s my responsibility to show you my city as well as my company.”
Paul fought another monstrous yawn. “I’m sorry, I need to take a rain check.”
“I understand,” Lian said. She looked at Jack. “You’re probably exhausted as well. Perhaps another time.”
Jack shook his head. “No, I’m good. Let’s go.”
Paul yawned again as he stood.
Jack jerked a thumb at him. “After we drop him off.”
20
They sped along the East Coast Parkway toward the bay front, passing the Singapore Flyer, the world’s second tallest Ferris wheel.
From inside Lian’s Range Rover, the Marina Bay Sands resort dominated the breathtaking skyline. Its three fifty-five-story towers were wide and narrow and slightly curved, and they were topped with what appeared to be a starship. The entire structure was brightly lit and bathed continuously in a shifting wash of accent lights. It was an architectural marvel. No wonder it was one of the most photographed buildings in the world.
But it was the view from the spaceship—technically, the SkyPark—that blew Jack’s mind. The view around the bay and the downtown core was like a scene out of Blade Runner. Skyscrapers ran nearly to the horizon, a cacophony of shifting lights and dramatic shapes that glowed purple and blue and white beneath the low-hanging clouds. The Flyer’s giant spokeless circle of light rotated slowly like a vertical space station, and traffic flowed along the ECP in a wide amber river of light spanning the coast. In the distance, Jack saw the lights of a hundred freighters moored offshore, and as many docked beneath the towering cranes of the bustling port.
Just below them was the ArtScience Museum, which appeared like a giant half-opened concrete lotus flower. In the distance was a small forest of giant “supertrees”—twenty-five- to fifty-meter-tall metal-and-concrete structures with canopies that spread wide to the open sky like upheld hands. Like everything else in view, they were stunningly lit.
The whole effect was ethereal, made even more surreal by the laser light show on display from down below, the thin green beams slicing through the cloudy haze.
The thousand-foot-long SkyPark itself was a stunning piece of architecture, topped with nightclubs, bars, and restaurants but made world-famous by the nearly five-hundred-foot-long infinity pool that disappeared along the edge of the cantilevered platform. Even at this hour it was filled with swimmers snapping selfies, standing waist-deep in water at the edge of the sky.
Jack and Lian sat in the crowded poolside SkyBar of the Cé La Vi nightclub, throbbing with techno-beats and horny tourists. Jack wasn’t hungry enough to take advantage of the nightclub’s award-winning restaurant, so they settled for sushi and beers at a small table along the glass rail beneath a red umbrella overlooking the bay. The view was better here anyway, and the cool, damp breeze felt good.
“If you were trying to sell me on your city, you’ve closed the deal,” Jack said. “It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”
Lian allowed herself a small smile. “We’re very proud of it. It’s a metropolitan wonder carved into the heart of a beautiful rainforest.”
“Between the botanical gardens and the green laser lights, Singapore reminds me a little of the Emerald City.”
“It may be the Emerald City, but even Oz had its flying monkeys.”
Jack laughed. “I thought you guys didn’t have a crime problem.”
“Not one that you can see. But where there are people, there are always problems.”
“Is that why you left the Singapore Police Force?”
“No. My plan was always to join the family business. I wanted the practical and technical experience that I knew the SPF would provide.”
“You’re very proud of your company, aren’t you?”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, not at all. I didn’t mean to offend. I guess what I was trying to say was that your sense of place in the world is strongly tied to the city, your company, and your family.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So how do you honestly feel about the merger? It won’t affect my judgment and I won’t say anything to my bosses. I’m just curious.”
Lian took a thoughtful sip of her Tsingtao, her third so far. Jack popped another piece of tuna sushi into his mouth while she formulated her answer, wondering if he needed to order a second beer himself.
“In truth, I’m not happy about it because I fear the loss of control. But my father is a very wise man and I trust his business acumen and he believes it is not only a good move but a necessary one, so I defer to his judgment.”
“Thanks for being honest.”
“What else would I be?”
“You’ve been pretty hostile the whole time we’ve been here. Hostile people tend to lie.”
“Hostile? Have I been rude to you or Paul?”
“No, not rude. But you’re obviously angry that we’re here. I’d think you’d be happy about the merger because it’s going to make you very rich.”
Lian frowned and shook her head. “You think being rich is something that matters to me?”
“Finding out that you’re going to be wealthy isn’t exactly like finding out you’ve got terminal cancer.”
“Tell me, Jack, is money the thing that motivates you?”
Jack shrugged. “No, not really. But then again, I don’t own a company like your family does.”
“No, but you work for a financial firm. Why do you do that kind of work if you don’t love money?”
Because I secretly work for The Campus, working for my dad and defending my nation, Jack wanted to say. Instead, he said, “It’s interesting work, and I’m pretty good with numbers.”
“I’m terrible with numbers, but I’m pretty good with a gun and I love my father, so I do everything I can to protect the company because I’m also protecting him.”
I guess we’re not so different after all, Jack thought.
“So, Mr. Jack Ryan, I apologize if I have seemed hostile or defensive. I suppose I should be fawning over you and showering you with attention because that’s what you expect.”
“Why would you say that? Because of my dad?”
“What? No. Because you’re so good-looking.”
Didn’t see that one comi
“I don’t know about that.”
“Haven’t you seen all of the women ogling you around here? You probably have a lot of girls back in the States.”
Jack shook his head as he peeled back the label on his empty beer bottle. Ysabel’s face flashed in his mind. “My work doesn’t exactly allow for a social life.”
Lian stared at a happy couple at the next table over. “I understand, believe me.”
A waiter approached with a tray, loaded with a giant tropical fruit drink, a massive wedge of pineapple sticking out of it.
“For the lady, a mai tai, compliments of those gentlemen,” the waiter said, nodding at a table across the way. Three large white men in their twenties smiled lustily at Lian. The one with the bulging biceps, and seemingly the oldest, lifted his own half-consumed mai tai in a toast.
“That thing is as big as your head,” Jack said. He remembered the Shirley Temple he’d sent Park earlier that day. Karma is a bitch.
Lian told the waiter, “Tell the gentlemen thank you, but I respectfully decline the generous gift.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like mai tais?” Jack asked.
“I love mai tais. Just not from strangers.”
The waiter blanched. “Ma’am, the gentleman means no harm. It might cause him offense if I returned it.”
“You can call security if they make trouble,” Lian insisted.
The waiter said, “Better if no trouble is started. Lah.” His smile, a plea.
“How much did they tip you?” Jack asked.
“Ten dollars, Australian.” The waiter leaned in close and whispered, keeping his eyes on the three lecherous musketeers. “I’m afraid they get angry if I return the drink. Best if you accept it, my lady. They’ll leave soon enough.”
Jack pulled a Benjamin Franklin out of his wallet and held it up. “That’s one hundred dollars, American. It’s yours if you take that drink away right now.”
The waiter snatched the bill and pocketed it before grabbing the drink and scurrying away.
“We should go,” Lian said. “Those men are trouble.”
“Friends of yours?”
She flashed a knowing smile. “No, not at all. But they’re men, aren’t they?”
“I’m enjoying myself. Let’s stay put.”
“Are you sure?”
Jack looked her straight in the eye. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
She studied his face, then stole a glance at his powerful hands and shoulders. “Yes, you are, aren’t you?”
“Let’s just say I’m a good judge of character.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”
They ate and drank in silence for a few minutes, Lian casting wary glances at the table full of trouble between bites, her street-cop instincts on full alert.
Jack refused to look at them, but in his peripheral vision he saw them finally get up and leave. Once they cleared the bar, he waved the waiter back over.
“Sir?”
“A mai tai for the lady.”
The waiter frowned in confusion. “Sir?” He glanced at Lian for guidance. “Ma’am?”
She smiled.
“A mai tai sounds good,” she said, “but that thing was as big as my head. You better bring two straws.”
The waiter laughed. “Okay, lah!”
21
While Jack was enjoying the mai tai and the spectacular view, Paul was drinking hot tea and sweating bullets.
He sat at the kitchen table, staring at Rhodes’s USB drive, as well as the dummy drive containing his Smithsonian photographs.
His test of the security system went about as expected. Well, he’d hoped Dalfan’s security was lax, but he expected it to be like other high-security environments in which he’d worked, and his expectations proved correct. That wasn’t good for him.
Pretending to hide a USB drive in the bottom of his computer bag was Paul’s way to test how thorough their search procedures were. He was a little surprised Dalfan went to the trouble of opening up his personal USB drive to check the contents instead of just handing it over to him. If there had been a virus on that drive, it would have infected the security station computer, but that also meant that the security computer wasn’t connected to the mainframe, so all Dalfan would lose in an infection scenario was one computer.
Smart.
The fact Dalfan security also checked for explosive residue meant they were very serious about both kinetic and digital threats. Paul now assumed that at least some of Lian’s security team must have been concealing weapons as well.
Bai was a pain in his rear end. The guy never left his side. But his explanation of the electronic lock on the USB ports of every Dalfan computer was useful. No USB drive could be loaded without the encryption code.
The only problem was that Paul didn’t have the encryption code.
That meant he couldn’t load Rhodes’s USB drive directly.
Which meant he couldn’t complete the mission.
Which meant that he was seriously and irrevocably cornholed.
Paul picked up Rhodes’s USB drive and examined it again. Was there something he was missing?
The only good news was that the Dalfan people didn’t do a full body search. It might, in fact, be possible to smuggle Rhodes’s drive into the facility by hiding it in one of his pant cuffs or a shoe. But even if he did that, what good would that do?
And just because Dalfan security hadn’t wanded him or patted him down last time didn’t mean they wouldn’t do so on his next visit. Getting caught trying to smuggle in a USB drive he couldn’t load anyway was a special kind of stupid.
He also couldn’t connect his laptop to a Dalfan computer or the mainframe—the same encryption code prevented it.
Paul took another sip of tea. He formulated a list of questions for himself.
How can I defeat the USB port encryption lock?
How can I distract or get rid of Bai?
How do I not get caught doing any of this stuff—and avoid getting thrown into a Singapore jail for espionage?
The only good news was that there were still four days to try and figure out these questions.
The bad news was that there were only four days left to try and figure out these questions.
Paul wondered if he should call Rhodes and tell him he just wasn’t up to the job. Tell him the security protocols were far more stringent than they had realized.
Wait. Didn’t Rhodes say he’d already been to Dalfan headquarters? If he had, then he would’ve known how strict the security protocols were. Why didn’t he tell Paul?
Maybe because Rhodes knew that he wouldn’t have agreed to do the assignment if he’d known how tough it was going to be.
Rhodes was a manipulator. That was part of his job. Or at least it was when Paul knew him back in Bulgaria in 1985. He also remembered that Rhodes didn’t tell him all the gory details in advance about that night so many years ago, either.
Rhodes had a high estimation of himself and his abilities, and a corresponding poor estimation of others. Both defaults were a function of his class and his breeding, his education and his training. So naturally he would believe he had to manipulate others around him in order to accomplish his objectives through them.
Now the picture was becoming clearer. The old-boy network at Langley had called on one of their favorite sons again—a CIA legacy, no less, the grandson of an OSS hero—and that dutiful son, Rhodes, had answered that call yet again. It was only natural for Rhodes to reach out to someone who could actually carry the water on this mission, and so Rhodes cajoled Paul into the assignment. Rhodes had handed him a rock too heavy to lift and then told him to lift it.
But then again, the more he thought about it, the more Paul began to see the logic. No doubt the reason the CIA
So that would’ve been a compliment.
Hard to get angry about that.
“But what if he can’t pull it off?” Paul imagined the Langley special activities officer asking. And in his mind’s eye, he saw Rhodes shrugging and saying, “Then he doesn’t pull it off. We’re no worse off for trying.”
“Unless he gets caught,” Paul whispered aloud, still speaking as the imaginary SAD man.
Paul shrugged. So just don’t get caught.
So how could he avoid getting caught? The only way to definitely not get caught was to not try at all, but that wasn’t an option.
He didn’t want to let Rhodes down. More important, he didn’t want to let his country down. He had to try something.
But what?
Paul checked his watch. It was time to call Rhodes. He wasn’t going to be happy.
After several rings Rhodes finally picked up. “Paul?”
“One and the same.”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too, Wes. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all. Just got back from the gym. How’s the weather over there?”
“Warm, scattered showers. A lull in the monsoon season, I’m told.”
“We’re expecting snow this evening. I think I’d rather be where you are. How do you like it? The city, I mean?”
“It’s an amazing place. I’ve never been in such a clean, well-ordered city. It feels more like Disney Epcot than New York or Chicago.”
“I thought you’d like it. So, how is everything? Has Dr. Fairchild taken good care of you and Jack?”
“Very much so. Jack’s out on the town right now with Lian Fairchild.”