The Cloud Collector by Brian Freemantle Read Free Book Online Page B

over-reacted to her finding of the computer, but where else was there for her to look for what she was sure was a terrorist outrage in the making! ‘Was text all there was? No pictures? Film?’
    The man shifted awkwardly. ‘There were some photographs. A film.’
    Sally frowned, aware of the man’s discomfort. ‘What’s wrong?’
    â€˜They’re pornographic.’
    Sally gave no open reaction, conscious of the man’s embarrassment. ‘Have you copied them all?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    She nodded to the television in the corner of her temporary office. ‘I’d like to go through the printed text and still photographs first, before looking at the movie. Can it be watched on that screen?’
    â€˜There’s a DVD facility. Can you work it okay?’
    Sally recognized the apprehension that she might ask him to operate the player. ‘I’ll manage.’
    â€˜And now you want us to work backwards through the hard drive from the date of the NSA interception?’
    â€˜I thought we’d agreed that.’ From the relieved smile she knew she was right about playing the disk.
    â€˜There isn’t a great deal on the earlier part of the hard drive, but you might want to book into a hotel in the town.’
    Sally shook her head. ‘I’ve grown to like the room, don’t want to leave it until I find what I want. I’ll wait here until you get the rest of the stuff.’
    Sally spread out everything John had so far retrieved, working methodically. She separated the electronic messaging from the pornographic stills, leaving the DVD to last, isolating potential inconsistencies in the printouts on her second reading. Sally added to her curiosity list on her third reading. When he returned after two hours, John confirmed her guess. He reported they were halfway through the remainder of the hard-drive examination and, less embarrassed than before, that it included another pornographic movie. It took two more hours of intense study of the pornography for Sally to make the connection between the still and movie pictures. Her immediate excitement had nothing to do with the sexual content and was balanced anyway by her completely objective acceptance that although her discoveries could easily be assembled into a circumstantial presentation of a crime, it provided absolutely no indication of what, where, or how that crime might be attempted.
    It was past nine that night when her GCHQ escort finally returned to Sally’s room, with the second DVD download and the sheaf of printed-out electronic messages.
    â€˜I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,’ he apologized.
    â€˜Maybe I won’t be.’
    She watched for ten minutes, oblivious to John’s discomfort behind her, before she suddenly said, ‘Oh my God!’ and snatched out for the telephone.
    She calmly dictated her identification number and password when she was connected to the MI5 Watch Room at Thames House, even-voiced although authoritative when demanding to be patched through to Jeremy Dodson with the assurance that she was calling from a secure telephone.
    When the man answered she said, still totally controlled, ‘I’ve got it! It’s nuclear!’
    At that precise moment, just over three thousand miles away at the National Security Agency complex at Fort Meade, Maryland, Jack Irvine took the telephone call for which he’d anxiously been waiting.
    James Bradley got on the line: ‘It’s more than a problem. It could be a goddamned emergency.’

 
    6
    â€˜How the fuck could it happen!’ demanded Irvine, careless of Marian Lowell, in whose presence cursing was forbidden.
    â€˜I’m waiting for the agent-in-charge to get back here. All I know so far is that we’ve lost al Aswamy as of thirty minutes ago.’
    â€˜Bullshit! Tell me what happened!’ Irvine was aware of the looks passing between Marian and Singleton: