[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
different angle." Pratt stuck his finger in the drink, stirred it, then licked
hi s finger, thinking for a few seconds. "Off the record, okay?
"
"Of course."They had talked so much over the years that everything was of f
the record
.
"There was an eight-day period between Hubbard's death and Backman'
s plea. It was a very scary time. Both Kim Boiling and I were under FB
I
protection, around the clock, around the block, everywhere. Quite odd
, really. The FBI was doing its best to send us to prison forever and at th e
same time felt compelled to protect us." A sip, as he glanced around to see i
f any of the college students were eavesdropping. They were not. "There wer e
some threats, some serious movements by the same people who killed Jac y
Hubbard. The FBI d e
briefed us later, months after Backman was gone and things settled down
.
We felt a bit safer, but Boiling and I paid armed security for two year s
afterward. I still glance in the rearview mirror. Poor Kim has lost his mind.
"
"Who made the threats?
"
"The same people who'd love to find Joel Backman.
"
"Who?
"
"Backman and Hubbard had made a deal to sell their little product to th e
Saudis for a trainload of money. Very pricey, but far less than the cost o f
building a brand-new satellite system. The deal fell through. Hubbard get s
himself killed. Backman hurries off to jail, and the Saudis are not happy a t
all. Neither are the Israelis, because they wanted to make a deal too. Plus
Page 40
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
, they were furious that Hubbard and Backman would deal with the Saudis.
"
He paused and took a drink, as if he needed the fortitude to finish the story
.
"Then you have the folks who built the system in the first place.
"
"The Russians?
"
"Probably not. Jacy Hubbard loved Asian girls. He was last seen leaving a bar
with a gorgeous young leggy thing, long black hair, round face, fro m
somewhere on the other side of the world. Red China uses thousands o f people
here to gather information. All their US. students, businessmen
, diplomats, this place is crawling with Chinese who are snooping around
.
Plus, their intelligence service has some very effective agents. For a matte r
like this, they wouldn't hesitate to go after Hubbard and Backman.
"
"You're sure it's Red China?
"
"No one's sure, okay? Maybe Backman knows, but he never told anyone
.
Keep in mind, the CIA didn't even know about the system. They got caugh t with
their pants down, and ol' Teddy's still trying to catch up.
"
"Fun and games for Teddy, huh?
"
"Absolutely. He fed Morgan a line about national security. Morgan, n o
surprise, falls for it. Backman walks. Teddy sneaks him out of the country
, then watches to see who shows up with a gun. It's a no-lose game fo r
Teddy.
"
"It's brilliant.
"
"It's beyond brilliant, Dan. Think about it. When Joel Backma n
meets his maker, no one will ever know about it. No one knows where he is now.
No one will know who he is when his body is found." "If it's found."
"Exactly." "And Backman knows this?" Pratt drained the second drink and wiped
his mouth with a sleeve. He was frowning. "Backman's not stupid by any
measure. But a lot of what we know came to light after he went away. He
survived six years in prison, he probably figures he can survive anything."
Critz ducked into a pub not far from the Connaught Hotel in London. A light
rain grew steadier and he needed a place to stay dry. Mrs. Critz was back at
the small apartment that was on loan from their new employer, so Critz had the
luxury of sitting in a crowded pub where no one knew him and knocking back a
couple of pints. A week in London now with a week to go before he pushed
himself back across the Atlantic, back to D.C. where he would take a miserable
job lobbying
for a company that made, among other hardware, defective missiles that the
Pentagon hated but nonetheless would be forced to buy because the company had
all the right lobbyists. He found an empty booth, one partially visible
through a fog of tobacco smoke, and wedged himself into it and settled in
behind his pint. How nice it was to drink alone without the worry of being
spotted by someone who would rush over and say, "Hey, Critz, what were you
idiots thinking with that Berman veto?" Yakety-yaketyyak. He absorbed the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]