Chapter 4
Jack glanced at his watch. 10:40 am. It had been a long night, but he had gotten what he needed. Having considered all the options available to him, Jack had concluded that he had no choice but to hand over the code as long as Sydney was in Sloane's control. Not that the CIA would see it that way, he reminded himself grimly. The disk now rested in his jacket pocket.
Thank goodness for Marshall. The genetic code was held on a secure, standalone computer, housed in a room accessible only by biometric scan. Cameras recorded every movement in the room; a keystroke recorder captured every entry. When Jack had arrived back at the Ops Center, Marshall had still been there, working late. Or playing video games. Sometimes it was difficult to tell.
"Marshall."
"Director Bristow?" Marshall almost jumped out of his chair.
"I need your assistance."
"Of course, I'm not doing anything else right now. Well, that's not exactly true, I'm mapping the memory locations of-,"
"Marshall," interrupted Jack. "We're planning an upcoming mission. We need to download a file off a computer remotely, and leave no record of the file transfer."
"How remote, if you don't mind my asking? Because of course I can do it, but if it's going to be more than 50 feet it will take me a couple of hours, it requires-,"
"30 feet," said Jack, visualizing the distances.
"Direct line of sight? All computers now have infrared ports, most people don't know about them, forget to block them, and you can-,"
Jack ruthlessly cut him off. "Direct line of sight," he confirmed.
Marshall smiled happily and opened up his top drawer, pulling out a small PDA. "Just happen to have what you need right here." Marshall lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Sometimes I beam stuff over to Weiss's computer. Knock knock jokes, that kind of thing. Makes him crazy."
Jack rolled his eyes, took the PDA from Marshall, and left. He had conducted a surprise inspection of the facility's security, much to the chagrin of the night sergeant, entering and checking all secured rooms in the Ops Center complex. He had not, of course, approached the computer with the code, just staying long enough in that particular room for Marshall's PDA to complete the download.
10:44 am. "Director Bristow?" Jack looked up. Vaughn.
"Not now, Vaughn."
"Sir, do you know where Sydney is?"
"I said, NOT NOW, Vaughn." Vaughn left, chastened.
10:49 am. Jack ground his teeth. Irina was being deliberately late to throw him off balance. He had briefly considered putting a tracking mechanism on the disk, but had discarded the idea immediately. It would be the first thing they would check.
10:52 am. The phone rang. Jack forced himself to watch it while it rang 5 times. Two could play this game. On the 5th ring, he answered. "Bristow."
"Fairmont Hotel. Room 452. Walk there."
Irina.
Jack glanced at his watch. 10:40 am. It had been a long night, but he had gotten what he needed. Having considered all the options available to him, Jack had concluded that he had no choice but to hand over the code as long as Sydney was in Sloane's control. Not that the CIA would see it that way, he reminded himself grimly. The disk now rested in his jacket pocket.
Thank goodness for Marshall. The genetic code was held on a secure, standalone computer, housed in a room accessible only by biometric scan. Cameras recorded every movement in the room; a keystroke recorder captured every entry. When Jack had arrived back at the Ops Center, Marshall had still been there, working late. Or playing video games. Sometimes it was difficult to tell.
"Marshall."
"Director Bristow?" Marshall almost jumped out of his chair.
"I need your assistance."
"Of course, I'm not doing anything else right now. Well, that's not exactly true, I'm mapping the memory locations of-,"
"Marshall," interrupted Jack. "We're planning an upcoming mission. We need to download a file off a computer remotely, and leave no record of the file transfer."
"How remote, if you don't mind my asking? Because of course I can do it, but if it's going to be more than 50 feet it will take me a couple of hours, it requires-,"
"30 feet," said Jack, visualizing the distances.
"Direct line of sight? All computers now have infrared ports, most people don't know about them, forget to block them, and you can-,"
Jack ruthlessly cut him off. "Direct line of sight," he confirmed.
Marshall smiled happily and opened up his top drawer, pulling out a small PDA. "Just happen to have what you need right here." Marshall lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Sometimes I beam stuff over to Weiss's computer. Knock knock jokes, that kind of thing. Makes him crazy."
Jack rolled his eyes, took the PDA from Marshall, and left. He had conducted a surprise inspection of the facility's security, much to the chagrin of the night sergeant, entering and checking all secured rooms in the Ops Center complex. He had not, of course, approached the computer with the code, just staying long enough in that particular room for Marshall's PDA to complete the download.
10:44 am. "Director Bristow?" Jack looked up. Vaughn.
"Not now, Vaughn."
"Sir, do you know where Sydney is?"
"I said, NOT NOW, Vaughn." Vaughn left, chastened.
10:49 am. Jack ground his teeth. Irina was being deliberately late to throw him off balance. He had briefly considered putting a tracking mechanism on the disk, but had discarded the idea immediately. It would be the first thing they would check.
10:52 am. The phone rang. Jack forced himself to watch it while it rang 5 times. Two could play this game. On the 5th ring, he answered. "Bristow."
"Fairmont Hotel. Room 452. Walk there."
Irina.
