his
shuffling and moving could clearly be heard before he left the building.”
“Okay,” Jean
answered softly, increasing his volume dramatically for the effect. “So what the hell am I doing here?”
Henri pursed his
lips, appearing unsurprised at the outburst. “Several things occurred that made me suspicious. Being a thorough man, I did a little more
checking that I think might arouse your curiosity as well. You know I wouldn’t have disturbed you
otherwise.”
“Dispense, please,”
Jean moaned, pressing on his eyes with both thumbs; he needed coffee badly.
Henri spun the
chair and clicked play on the sophisticated digital video system. Jean squinted to see any movement in the
grainy picture of a street. It was
obviously taken at night. Just as Jean
was about to ask for an explanation Henri pointed a sausage finger to the
screen, showing a man hustling from a shadow and up the street, from the bottom
to the top of the screen.
“Who is that?”
asked Jean.
“Gage Hartline.”
“Leaving? Okay, so he left the building. That was part of the plan, wasn’t it?”
Henri gestured to
the top right of the large screen. “See
the counter-clock in the corner? It skips nearly twenty minutes, and now watch…”
Jean’s eyebrows
lowered as he saw what looked like the same figure return, slipping into the
shadow at the lower left of the screen. “He came back?”
“He most certainly
did. He showed up, placed his bugs,
left…then came back before leaving again.”
“What?”
“Two times he came
and went.”
“Where was the
video from?”
“I hacked it from
traffic control.”
“Well, won’t they
see it?”
“Why would
they? It resets itself every few hours
and only trips if someone speeds or runs a signal. I grabbed it as I began to hear what I
perceived as abnormalities on the listening devices.”
Jean squinted his
eyes, looking into the distance. “Abnormalities?”
Henri closed the
video player, opening an audio program easily suitable for the studios at Abbey
Road. He turned to face Jean. “Each of the bugs took about ten minutes to
install…except for the one in the northeast corner of the board room.” Henri paused. “It took two hours.”
Jean was
interested now, moving from the table to the chair next to Henri. “Two hours? Seems a bit long, doesn’t it? It’s been years since I installed one, but once you have your spot, you
typically just stick and go.” He shook two cigarettes from his pack, offering
one to Henri, something he had never done before.
The gesture wasn’t
lost on Henri, a man who didn’t typically smoke. He accepted, puffing away before stifling a
cough. “And the other bugs in the board
room— cough —picked up something he
said, presumably— cough —to himself.”
“What was it?”
Jean asked, thoroughly engrossed. He’d
even forgotten his want of coffee.
Henri clicked the
mouse. There was a whisper of shuffling
before Gage Hartline’s voice, low but clear. “Why would that be hidden here?”
Jean leaned close,
not breathing. He pushed the sliding
button upward to increase the volume. “Do
it again.”
Gage Hartline’s
voice, hard and clear. “Why would that be hidden here?” Deep breaths afterward.
Jean Jenois , like most field agents, was an expert in psychology
with many years of classroom and field experience. The voice and tone on the recording was clearly
that of a man trying to calm himself.
He locked eyes
with Henri, his expression clearly puzzled. “Something was hidden?”
Henri closed his
eyes, lacing his hands on his considerable belly. “That’s what I heard.”
“Anything else on
the bugs?”
“During the delay
there was some thudding and shuffling of feet. I thought I heard paper riffling, but couldn’t
be sure.”
Jean chewed on his
finger as Henri opened the video player again. “One thing I want you to
shuffling and moving could clearly be heard before he left the building.”
“Okay,” Jean
answered softly, increasing his volume dramatically for the effect. “So what the hell am I doing here?”
Henri pursed his
lips, appearing unsurprised at the outburst. “Several things occurred that made me suspicious. Being a thorough man, I did a little more
checking that I think might arouse your curiosity as well. You know I wouldn’t have disturbed you
otherwise.”
“Dispense, please,”
Jean moaned, pressing on his eyes with both thumbs; he needed coffee badly.
Henri spun the
chair and clicked play on the sophisticated digital video system. Jean squinted to see any movement in the
grainy picture of a street. It was
obviously taken at night. Just as Jean
was about to ask for an explanation Henri pointed a sausage finger to the
screen, showing a man hustling from a shadow and up the street, from the bottom
to the top of the screen.
“Who is that?”
asked Jean.
“Gage Hartline.”
“Leaving? Okay, so he left the building. That was part of the plan, wasn’t it?”
Henri gestured to
the top right of the large screen. “See
the counter-clock in the corner? It skips nearly twenty minutes, and now watch…”
Jean’s eyebrows
lowered as he saw what looked like the same figure return, slipping into the
shadow at the lower left of the screen. “He came back?”
“He most certainly
did. He showed up, placed his bugs,
left…then came back before leaving again.”
“What?”
“Two times he came
and went.”
“Where was the
video from?”
“I hacked it from
traffic control.”
“Well, won’t they
see it?”
“Why would
they? It resets itself every few hours
and only trips if someone speeds or runs a signal. I grabbed it as I began to hear what I
perceived as abnormalities on the listening devices.”
Jean squinted his
eyes, looking into the distance. “Abnormalities?”
Henri closed the
video player, opening an audio program easily suitable for the studios at Abbey
Road. He turned to face Jean. “Each of the bugs took about ten minutes to
install…except for the one in the northeast corner of the board room.” Henri paused. “It took two hours.”
Jean was
interested now, moving from the table to the chair next to Henri. “Two hours? Seems a bit long, doesn’t it? It’s been years since I installed one, but once you have your spot, you
typically just stick and go.” He shook two cigarettes from his pack, offering
one to Henri, something he had never done before.
The gesture wasn’t
lost on Henri, a man who didn’t typically smoke. He accepted, puffing away before stifling a
cough. “And the other bugs in the board
room— cough —picked up something he
said, presumably— cough —to himself.”
“What was it?”
Jean asked, thoroughly engrossed. He’d
even forgotten his want of coffee.
Henri clicked the
mouse. There was a whisper of shuffling
before Gage Hartline’s voice, low but clear. “Why would that be hidden here?”
Jean leaned close,
not breathing. He pushed the sliding
button upward to increase the volume. “Do
it again.”
Gage Hartline’s
voice, hard and clear. “Why would that be hidden here?” Deep breaths afterward.
Jean Jenois , like most field agents, was an expert in psychology
with many years of classroom and field experience. The voice and tone on the recording was clearly
that of a man trying to calm himself.
He locked eyes
with Henri, his expression clearly puzzled. “Something was hidden?”
Henri closed his
eyes, lacing his hands on his considerable belly. “That’s what I heard.”
“Anything else on
the bugs?”
“During the delay
there was some thudding and shuffling of feet. I thought I heard paper riffling, but couldn’t
be sure.”
Jean chewed on his
finger as Henri opened the video player again. “One thing I want you to
Similar Books
