“First, I want to extend to both of you the official apologies of your government for what happened.”

Sean spoke up angrily. “Funny, I thought it was our government that was trying to kill us.”

“Government can be an unwieldy thing, Mr. King, with certain parts of it overstepping boundaries of authority from time to time,” the man replied evenly. “That doesn’t make the rest of government evil. However, you did break into a CIA facility.”

Sean was not in a conciliatory mood. “Prove it!”

Before he could answer Michelle said, “Do you understand what was going on there? Do you blame us for trying to do what we did?”

The man shrugged. “My job is not to assign blame, Ms. Maxwell. My task is to move forward from this point in a way that benefits us all.”

“How exactly do we do that?” Sean demanded. “Our government kicked the shit out of us. A girl named Viggie Turing has been taken by our government. People have been murdered by our government. How do we move forward in a way that benefits us all from that!”

The man leaned forward. “Here’s how. We have viewed the video that was used to issue the search warrant for Camp Peary. As you know it shows certain… compromising activity. Our technical people tell us that the video has been copied.”

“You want the video that shows our government breaking about a hundred laws.”

“It wasn’t our government, Mr. King,” the man snapped. “As I said, sometimes people overstep their boundaries of authority.”

“In our case they didn’t step, they stomped.” Sean studied the man. “So that’s why they sent you with your nice manners and white hair and glasses looking like an old Cold War warrior right out of a damn John le Carré novel to give us the pitch.”

“I’m glad you understand the situation. And the fact that we need any and all copies of that video, Mr. King,” the man added quietly.

“I bet you do. But I’m a lawyer and I need to see the quid pro quo and let me tell you it better be ten times bigger than whatever you might be thinking of right now if you really want to do a deal.”

“I have authority to make certain concessions-”

“Screw that. Here’re our terms. First, we want Viggie back safe and sound and if you tell me that’s not possible the tape goes straight to a journalist friend of mine who’ll take it and win the Pulitzer he so desperately wants. Next, Valerie Messaline, or whatever the hell her name really is, gets everything she has coming to her and I’m not talking a promotion. Third, Alicia Chadwick with the one leg gets the same treatment. And the shit that they’re doing over at Camp Peary has to stop. I mean really stop. No more drugs. No torture. And consider yourself lucky.”

The man sat back and considered this. “The two women have already been taken care of. You have my word on that.”

“Your word means shit to me. I want real proof!”

“All right.”

“What about Viggie?” Michelle blurted out. “Is she okay?”

The man nodded curtly. “But the actions you’re talking about at Camp Peary; some of them will stop, Mr. King, indeed some of them already have. But I cannot promise that all of them will. Yet I can assure you that these activities are absolutely essential to preserving the security of this nation.”

“Isn’t that what you always say when you want to piss all over someone’s rights?”

“How is drug running essential to our nation’s security?” Michelle asked.

“We’re not selling it,” the man said impatiently. “We destroy it.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t inhale,” Sean barked.

“Three people were killed,” Michelle pointed out. “Murdered.”

“A very unfortunate fact. But the sacrifice of three lives to save thousands, if not millions?”

“Well, I guess that’s just great so long as you or someone you care about isn’t one of the people sacrificed,” Sean countered.

“Nevertheless, I cannot promise that all the activities you witnessed at Camp Peary will cease.”

“Then I guess we have a problem,” Sean said. “And if you’re thinking of maybe eliminating the two problems you see sitting in front of you, think about this. I had five copies made of that video. And they’re all in very safe places. Now unless Michelle and I die in our sleep at age ninety, one copy is going to be delivered to my aforementioned Pulitzer-hungry friend so he can write the story first, with other copies going to the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Times of London.”

“That only makes four. What about the fifth one?”

“That goes to the president. I bet he’d get a real kick out of it.”

“And yet as you pointed out we seem to have reached an impasse.”

Sean stood and paced. “Good lawyers always think of a compromise so here’s one for you. There’s a hidden treasure at Camp Peary.”

“Excuse me,” the man said, startled.

“Just shut up and listen. It’s hidden in the foundation wall of Lord Dunmore’s Porto Bello lodge. Gold, silver, jewels. The whole thing’s easily worth millions.”

“My God!” the man exclaimed.

“Yeah, before you get permanent dollar signs etched in your eyes that treasure is to be taken and sold for the highest possible price. Hell, if the government wants to buy it they can. I don’t really care. But the proceeds of those funds will be divided into three equal shares.”

The man pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. “All right. Presumably with one share going to each of you.”

“No!” Sean snapped. “One share goes to Viggie Turing. It won’t make up for her dad getting killed but it’s a start. The second share goes to Len Rivest’s two kids. They’re in college and could probably use the money. And the third share goes to the family of the medical examiner who was killed in that gas explosion. You got that?”

The man finished writing and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. Now I’m going to check on the amounts paid over to them so don’t try to screw with me on the dollars. And I don’t care if it takes an act of Congress, but all the money goes to them tax-free.”

The man said, “That won’t be a problem.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“And we want to see Viggie, to make sure she’s all right,” Michelle added.

“That can be arranged.”

“Then arrange it,” Sean said. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Give us one week and it’ll all be done.”

“Make sure it is.”

“And you’ll say nothing about any of this?” the man asked.

“That’s right. I’m not looking to go to prison.”

“And who would believe us anyway?” Michelle added.

“And then we get the copies?” the man asked.

“And then you get the copies.”

“And we can trust you?”

“As much as I can trust you,” Sean said.

A WEEK LATER SEAN AND MICHELLE met with Joan Dillinger in her office, along with another man who gave neither his name nor affiliation. He would only say that the ownership of Babbage Town was grateful for the work done by them and he had presented them directly with a check. The amount, Sean quickly saw, would resolve ll their financial problems for the foreseeable future and fund some vacation time as well. They certainly needed it.

“Hope you found someone to take Champ’s and Alicia’s places. Too bad you lost such valuable people.”

“Oh, we have. But thanks to you our research won’t be preyed upon by electronic eyes anymore,” said the man.

As the fellow was leaving Sean couldn’t resist a parting shot. “So why spend all this time and money on creating something that will stop the world in its tracks?” he said.

The man had looked at him quizzically. “Who told you that’s what Babbage Town was doing?”

“A couple of real geniuses.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Well, let’s just say that while what you described is certainly a possibility, it’s a tad more complicated than that.”