and sloppy—and drink more. Sometimes this behavior would lead to the dark areas of his ancestors, to violence and blackouts, the curse of many with blood on their hands.
After that, just about anything could happen.
The night passed with lots of food and more champagne—and no further talk about the recent troubles. Prince Ali ate a lion’s share of beef l’orange and french fries. But anytime he began enjoying himself, his thoughts went back to the Crazy Americans. Who were they? What were they going to do next? Would they ever really come knocking at his door? It was too much worry—as a result, he’d consumed two bottles of champagne and a dozen shots of sake along with his meal. The alcohol did not dull his uneasiness, though, and neither did the food. Ali was not by nature a strong individual.
Around midnight, five of the men retreated to their individual suites along with the female companions they’d selected for the evening. The Prince had been the last to retire. Those who’d seen him remembered he was in a foul mood when he finally staggered to his private chambers just before 1:00 A.M . Noises were heard coming from the room about a half hour later, not all of them pleasant. The sky grew particularly dark at this moment, and the winds began blowing fiercely.
By 2:00 A.M. , though, everything was quiet again.
The Prince was the first of the six to leave the next morning. He encountered a floor manager as he was going out the back door. Ali told the man to take care of the mess in his private bedroom. The manager went to the suite and found two of the three girls who had spent the night with the Prince cowering in the corner of the bathroom, crying and in shock. On the king-size bed lay the third girl. She’d been beaten to death.
The manager just shook his head.
“Not again…” he whispered.
Chapter 10
Aboard Ocean Voyager
“It’s fruit….”
Ryder leaned over the technician’s shoulder and studied the blue-tinted TV screen. It looked a little fuzzy without his reading glasses.
“Fruit?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent…. Looks like lemons, oranges. Watermelons….”
Ryder was at the bottom of Ocean Voyager, inside one of the White Rooms. It wasn’t so much a room as a long, narrow chamber, the same size as the containers up on deck. Inside was definitely white, though, and spotless. It looked like the control room of a TV studio or something at Cape Canaveral. There were dozens of video monitors hanging off the walls and ceiling. Jammed in between them were banks of shortwave radios, satellite receivers, fiber-optic lines, faxes, and computer screens. Most of the TV monitors and PC screens were displaying not satellite imagery or IR read-outs but pornography. Streaming videos, Web sites, chat lines, Triple-X rated, all of it.
There were ten guys working inside the White Room. They looked like high school students, all lab coats and glasses. On first coming aboard the ship, Ryder had been told not to insult this group by asking if they were CIA. They were actually employees of the NSA, America’s largest, most secret intelligence agency. Their primary job was to eavesdrop on the terrorists and then try to locate them on a map. How good were these kids and their listening equipment? They could hook a suspected terrorist by the simple act of his turning on his pager. Once he was tagged, they could electronically tap his phone, intercept his E-mail, even hear messages on his answering machine. The trick was to connect what they were hearing to a warm body and then get a location so the Delta guys could go and grease the bad guys. Down here they called it Spooks versus Mooks.
And all that porn? Just like Bobby Murphy, the terrorists used Internet porn sites to communicate. They spoke on dirty chat lines and porn-based bulletin boards, and through erotic-picture newsgroups. Some of the most sensitive gear inside the White Rooms allowed the Spooks to
After that, just about anything could happen.
The night passed with lots of food and more champagne—and no further talk about the recent troubles. Prince Ali ate a lion’s share of beef l’orange and french fries. But anytime he began enjoying himself, his thoughts went back to the Crazy Americans. Who were they? What were they going to do next? Would they ever really come knocking at his door? It was too much worry—as a result, he’d consumed two bottles of champagne and a dozen shots of sake along with his meal. The alcohol did not dull his uneasiness, though, and neither did the food. Ali was not by nature a strong individual.
Around midnight, five of the men retreated to their individual suites along with the female companions they’d selected for the evening. The Prince had been the last to retire. Those who’d seen him remembered he was in a foul mood when he finally staggered to his private chambers just before 1:00 A.M . Noises were heard coming from the room about a half hour later, not all of them pleasant. The sky grew particularly dark at this moment, and the winds began blowing fiercely.
By 2:00 A.M. , though, everything was quiet again.
The Prince was the first of the six to leave the next morning. He encountered a floor manager as he was going out the back door. Ali told the man to take care of the mess in his private bedroom. The manager went to the suite and found two of the three girls who had spent the night with the Prince cowering in the corner of the bathroom, crying and in shock. On the king-size bed lay the third girl. She’d been beaten to death.
The manager just shook his head.
“Not again…” he whispered.
Chapter 10
Aboard Ocean Voyager
“It’s fruit….”
Ryder leaned over the technician’s shoulder and studied the blue-tinted TV screen. It looked a little fuzzy without his reading glasses.
“Fruit?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent…. Looks like lemons, oranges. Watermelons….”
Ryder was at the bottom of Ocean Voyager, inside one of the White Rooms. It wasn’t so much a room as a long, narrow chamber, the same size as the containers up on deck. Inside was definitely white, though, and spotless. It looked like the control room of a TV studio or something at Cape Canaveral. There were dozens of video monitors hanging off the walls and ceiling. Jammed in between them were banks of shortwave radios, satellite receivers, fiber-optic lines, faxes, and computer screens. Most of the TV monitors and PC screens were displaying not satellite imagery or IR read-outs but pornography. Streaming videos, Web sites, chat lines, Triple-X rated, all of it.
There were ten guys working inside the White Room. They looked like high school students, all lab coats and glasses. On first coming aboard the ship, Ryder had been told not to insult this group by asking if they were CIA. They were actually employees of the NSA, America’s largest, most secret intelligence agency. Their primary job was to eavesdrop on the terrorists and then try to locate them on a map. How good were these kids and their listening equipment? They could hook a suspected terrorist by the simple act of his turning on his pager. Once he was tagged, they could electronically tap his phone, intercept his E-mail, even hear messages on his answering machine. The trick was to connect what they were hearing to a warm body and then get a location so the Delta guys could go and grease the bad guys. Down here they called it Spooks versus Mooks.
And all that porn? Just like Bobby Murphy, the terrorists used Internet porn sites to communicate. They spoke on dirty chat lines and porn-based bulletin boards, and through erotic-picture newsgroups. Some of the most sensitive gear inside the White Rooms allowed the Spooks to
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