Spook Country

58. ALPHABET TALK

T he pilot followed highways.

Tito could see this now, sitting up in the front with him, the fear having somehow absented itself with the takeoff from Illinois and the pilot’s offer of the seat beside his.

Like a stranger beside you on a bus, he thought now, fear, then unexpectedly getting up, getting off. Keep your mother and the flight from Cuba in its own separate drawer. This was much better.

Gratitude to Ellegua; may the ways be opened.

The flat country through which they followed the thin straight lines of highway was called Nebraska, the pilot had told him, pressing a button on his headset that allowed Tito to hear him with his own headset.

Tito ate one of the turkey sandwiches the man with the cowboy hat and refueling truck had given them in Illinois, careful with the crumbs, while he watched Nebraska unroll beneath them. When he finished the sandwich, he folded the brown paper bag it had come in, propped his elbow against the padded ledge at the top of the door, where the window started, rested his head on his cupped hand. His headset made a clicking sound. “Information Exploitation Office,” he heard the old man say.

“It’s a DARPA program, though,” Garreth said.

“DARPA R and D, but always intended for IXO.”

“And he’s gotten into a beta version?”

“The Sixth Fleet has been using something called Fast-C2AP,” the old man said. “Makes locating some ships as easy as checking an online stock price. But it’s not PANDA, not by a long shot. Predictive analysis for naval deployment activities. If it doesn’t get dumbed down, PANDA will comprehend behavioral patterns of commercial vessels, local to global; their routes, routine detours for fuel or paperwork. If a ship that always travels between Malaysia and Japan turns up in the Indian Ocean, PANDA notices. It’s a remarkable system, not least because it actually would contribute to making the country safer. But, yes, he does seem to have accessed some sort of beta version, and cross-referenced a vessel on it with the box’s most recent signal.”

“Earning his wage in that case,” said Garreth.

“But I ask myself,” the old man said, “who is it we’re dealing with, here? Is he a genius of some kind or, really, at the end of the day, just a talented and audacious burglar?”

“And the difference would be?” asked Garreth, after a pause.

“Predictability. Are we inadvertently creating a monster, assigning him these things, facilitating him?”

Tito looked over at the pilot, deciding he seemed most unlikely to be listening to this conversation. He was steering the plane with his knees, and filling in blanks on a white paper form, on a battered, boxlike aluminum clipboard, with a hinged lid. Tito wondered if there would be a telltale of some kind, a light perhaps, that could indicate to Garreth and the old man that his headset was on.

“Seems an abstract concern, to me,” said Garreth.

“Not to me,” said the old man, “although it certainly isn’t that immediate. One immediate concern today is whether our positioning arrangement is reliable. If our box gets put down in the wrong spot, things will get complicated. Very complicated.”

“I know,” said Garreth, “but they’re Teamsters, those two. Old hands. At one time they would’ve been ‘losing’ boxes like this. Driving them straight out of there. Now, with an upgraded security regime, they’re not even thinking about that sort of thing. But good money for putting one down where we most need it, that’s something else.”

“For that matter,” said the old man, “if that box isn’t wearing the same owner code, product code, six-digit registration number, and check digit it was wearing when last seen, our Teamsters won’t find it for us, will they?”

“It is,” Garreth said. “The same ISO markings are encrypted in every transmission.”

“Not necessarily. That piece of equipment was programmed when the box had those markings. We can’t be certain that it still does. I just don’t want you to forget that we have other options.”

“I don’t.”

Tito removed the headset.

Without touching any of its buttons, he hung it from its hook above the door, put his head back, and pretended to be asleep.

Alphabet talk. He didn’t like it.