cash in a Walmart two years ago. They have further tracked the movements of both phones to an apartment here on Capitol Hill. The lease on this apartment is being paid by a dummy corporation set up by your personal attorney. And the inhabitant of this apartment is a young woman named Natalia Robart, the movements of whose own cell phone have been correlated to yours on numerous business trips you’ve taken, on none of which has your wife’s cell phone indicated your wife was present.”
McQueen had gradually paled as Remar briefed him, and his mouth was now agape. Remar waited while it all sank in.
“I don’t . . . I don’t see how . . .” McQueen stammered, and then was silent, shaking his head, apparently unable to find words.
“Obviously, this is all just metadata. But also obviously, it’s more than enough to cause a scandal—and that’s assuming the Chinese haven’t penetrated Ms. Robart’s apartment and installed hidden cameras. That is something we could discreetly rule out, if you’d like.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . .”
“Let me assure you, Senator, this information is being held in the strictest confidence and in the tightest circle possible at NSA. None of us wants to see you hurt.”
“Yes, but . . . Jesus Christ, how is this even possible?”
Remar permitted himself a sympathetic smile. “Do you still feel I’m being paranoid?”
McQueen looked as though he’d been gut-punched. “Christ, no. Is there anything that can be done?”
“In fact, there is. The system we’ve uncovered seems to be automated. We’ve tracked its uploads to a dedicated server, which we’ve covertly penetrated. We’re in a position now where we should be able to permanently destroy the data on that server.”
“Well, that’s great news!”
“Yes. We’re holding off to first confirm there isn’t a backup server. If there is, we want to trace back to it and destroy it simultaneously. If we act too quickly, we could tip off the Chinese and lose the chance to wipe out the problematic records completely.”
All at once, McQueen’s shocked expression transmuted into a more canny one. He leaned back in his chair and looked Remar up and down as though evaluating him. Then he nodded and smiled.
“All right, Remar. What’s your game?”
“Game, Senator?”
“Why are you really telling me all this? What do you want from me?”
Remar realized the man had figured out the situation was less scary than he’d first thought. He’d seen that it was a business transaction, not a random threat, and therefore that presumably there was no reason the parties couldn’t arrive at a mutually acceptable price.
Remar effected a puzzled look. “I don’t want anything from you, Senator. Well, I’d like you to be more careful, but of course in the end that’s up to you.”
McQueen’s smile broadened. “Oh, really? There’s no quid pro quo here?”
Remar shrugged. “No, but if there were, I’d say you’ve already delivered through all your support of the intelligence community. So if anything, this is a thank-you, not a quid pro quo.”
They were quiet for a moment. McQueen looked confused. Could it really be that simple—his friends paying off a debt by protecting him?
“All right, then,” McQueen said, his tone cautious. “You’ll just . . . keep me posted on your efforts against that Chinese server?”
Remar retrieved the attaché from the floor. “Of course. We’re making every effort, and I’m cautiously optimistic we’ll be able to contain it.”
McQueen nodded, as though afraid to speak.
Remar stood and placed the attaché on the desk. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time today, Senator. Please do be more careful about the phones—we downplay it to the public, but the metadata really does reveal a lot. As the saying goes, ‘We kill people based on metadata. ’ ”
McQueen nodded again. “Yes, I can see that.”
“Oh, and one other thing. You
McQueen had gradually paled as Remar briefed him, and his mouth was now agape. Remar waited while it all sank in.
“I don’t . . . I don’t see how . . .” McQueen stammered, and then was silent, shaking his head, apparently unable to find words.
“Obviously, this is all just metadata. But also obviously, it’s more than enough to cause a scandal—and that’s assuming the Chinese haven’t penetrated Ms. Robart’s apartment and installed hidden cameras. That is something we could discreetly rule out, if you’d like.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . .”
“Let me assure you, Senator, this information is being held in the strictest confidence and in the tightest circle possible at NSA. None of us wants to see you hurt.”
“Yes, but . . . Jesus Christ, how is this even possible?”
Remar permitted himself a sympathetic smile. “Do you still feel I’m being paranoid?”
McQueen looked as though he’d been gut-punched. “Christ, no. Is there anything that can be done?”
“In fact, there is. The system we’ve uncovered seems to be automated. We’ve tracked its uploads to a dedicated server, which we’ve covertly penetrated. We’re in a position now where we should be able to permanently destroy the data on that server.”
“Well, that’s great news!”
“Yes. We’re holding off to first confirm there isn’t a backup server. If there is, we want to trace back to it and destroy it simultaneously. If we act too quickly, we could tip off the Chinese and lose the chance to wipe out the problematic records completely.”
All at once, McQueen’s shocked expression transmuted into a more canny one. He leaned back in his chair and looked Remar up and down as though evaluating him. Then he nodded and smiled.
“All right, Remar. What’s your game?”
“Game, Senator?”
“Why are you really telling me all this? What do you want from me?”
Remar realized the man had figured out the situation was less scary than he’d first thought. He’d seen that it was a business transaction, not a random threat, and therefore that presumably there was no reason the parties couldn’t arrive at a mutually acceptable price.
Remar effected a puzzled look. “I don’t want anything from you, Senator. Well, I’d like you to be more careful, but of course in the end that’s up to you.”
McQueen’s smile broadened. “Oh, really? There’s no quid pro quo here?”
Remar shrugged. “No, but if there were, I’d say you’ve already delivered through all your support of the intelligence community. So if anything, this is a thank-you, not a quid pro quo.”
They were quiet for a moment. McQueen looked confused. Could it really be that simple—his friends paying off a debt by protecting him?
“All right, then,” McQueen said, his tone cautious. “You’ll just . . . keep me posted on your efforts against that Chinese server?”
Remar retrieved the attaché from the floor. “Of course. We’re making every effort, and I’m cautiously optimistic we’ll be able to contain it.”
McQueen nodded, as though afraid to speak.
Remar stood and placed the attaché on the desk. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time today, Senator. Please do be more careful about the phones—we downplay it to the public, but the metadata really does reveal a lot. As the saying goes, ‘We kill people based on metadata. ’ ”
McQueen nodded again. “Yes, I can see that.”
“Oh, and one other thing. You
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