Wall of Night by Grant Blackwood

someone was feeding the opposition, making surveillance unnecessary. Tanner realized there’d been only one agent in his network who could have given the Guoanbu that kind of information. Known only by his code name, Genoa had been what’s called a “block cutout.”
    Unlike a “chain cutout”—a go-between who knows only the agent who recruited him—a block cutout knows not only the names of all the agents, but their meeting spots and dead drops as well. Moreover, Genoa had been a colleague of Soong’s. In his excitement, had Soong told Genoa the time and place of his final meeting with Tanner?
    It would explain much. How else was the Guoanbu able to roll up the entire network so efficiently? How else could they have covered the meeting place and escape routes so well?
    Design meant planning, Briggs knew, and planning meant foreknowledge.
    â€œWhat happened to Genoa?” Oaken asked after Tanner finished explaining his theory.
    â€œHe disappeared like the others. Problem is, that’s an easy ruse. Plus, by that time, my picture was plastered all over the city; I was on the run.”
    â€œIs it possible you missed something in your countersurveillance?”
    â€œIt’s possible, I knew it was going to be a weak spot. Beijing was—still is—crawling with PSB and PAP officers. All it would have taken was one slipup on an agent’s part and the whole thing would have unraveled.”
    Oaken nodded. “I think your theory is solid. Didn’t the CIA already check it out, though?”
    â€œNot until a year after it happened. It might be worth another look.”
    â€œTrue … What’s all this about, Briggs? Curiosity or something more?”
    â€œIf I’m right about Genoa, and he’s still alive, and he’s still active—”
    â€œThat’s a lot of ‘ifs.’”
    â€œIf all those things are true, maybe we can use him.”
    Oaken smiled. “Assuming Mason is going to send you back in.”
    â€œRight.” Send me or not, I’m going back. “What do you say? Want to give it try?”
    Oaken chuckled. “Find one man amid a billion Chinese, who may or may not have been a double agent, who we only know by a code name? Damn right I want to give it try.”

8
    Quantico, Virginia
    Latham and Randall were met in the computer lab by one of the department’s experts, a young African American named James Washington. “You guys got here in a hurry,” he said.
    â€œWe’re hoping you’ve got something good for us,” Latham said.
    â€œYeah, I think so.”
    James gestured to a pair of stools before a Formica counter on which sat Baker’s computer, a top-of-the-line Hewlett Packard tower attached to a twenty-one-inch Sony monitor.
    â€œThis case, it’s the Baker thing?” James asked. “The murdered guy from Commerce?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œWell, either he’s a real computer geek, or he had some help. This system’s got some gnarly security programs attached.”
    Latham chuckled. “By ‘gnarly,’ I assume you mean ‘superior’?”
    â€œRight. Anyway, his system’s got all kinds of blocks on it—routines designed to keep the information from being backed up or routed to an exterior drive. Hell, if you even try to print the stuff without a password, the hard drive erases itself.”
    â€œThis isn’t stuff you can buy on the open market?” asked Randal.
    â€œLike at Best Buy? No way. I’ll know more once I tear it apart, but none of it looks familiar to me. I think I found a way through it, but there’re no guarantees. If I’m wrong, the hard drive goes poof. Since it’s your case, I wanted you to make the call.”
    â€œGimme odds,” Latham said.
    â€œFifty-fifty.”
    â€œDo it.”
    The process was simple, James told them. The one contingency the security program