Conspiracy

73

Rubens turned away from the Art Room’s main screen, sour and disappointed. He’d devoted an enormous amount of resources to discovering an illegal immigrant operation.

And that was all they had to show for an operation that had included a rather large number of intercepts, data searches, and field operations.

Dean hadn’t spoken to Phuc Dinh yet; perhaps that would yield something definitive. But Infinite Burn seemed less than likely.

It could be very cleverly disguised and hidden, surely.

Robert Gallo rushed into the Art Room, breathlessly shouting Rubens’ name.

“Mr. Gallo, what can I do for you?”

“Thao Duong is a people smuggler,” said Gallo. “I’ve been analyzing his network and—”

“The term is ‘snakehead,’ ” said Rubens. “Good work, Mr.

Gallo. Ms. Telach, prepare a dossier of the pertinent information for the Immigration Ser vice and FBI. And then get some sleep please. You, too, Mr. Gallo,” Rubens added. “And by that I mean in a proper bed, at home, not on the floor of your lab.” gallo returned to his lab to find Angela DiGiacomo beaming at him. He was feeling pretty confident after talking to Rubens — almost enough to ask for a date.

But she spoke first.

“You got something!” she said. “Another threatening e-mail to McSweeney.”

“No shit?”

Gallo pulled out his seat and hunkered in front of the computer. Angela put her hand on his shoulder.

Not bad, he thought.

“Can you track it?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He stared at the screen. “Probably,” he said.

His fingers started to fly around the keyboard.

Five minutes later, Gallo looked up from the computer and realized that Angela had left. He cursed silently to himself, then went back to work.