tc.thebearandthedragon-第45部分

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th　her　friend；　and　thinking　about　her　lover；　while　the　whole　reason　for　the　wispy　smiles　on　her　face　played　out　entirely　outside　her　consciousness。　Strangely；　it　never　occurred　to　her　that　her　roomie　had　it　all　figured　out　in　an　instant；　and　was　merely　polite　enough　not　to　broach　the　subject。
　Her　NEC　desktop　puter　had　long　since　gone　into　auto…sleep　mode；　leaving　the　monitor　screen　dark　and　blank；　and　the　indicator　light　in　the　lower　right　position　of　the　plastic　frame　amber　instead　of　the　green　that　went　with　real　activity。　The　software　she'd　installed　earlier　in　the　day　had　been　custom…designed　for　the　NEC　machines；　which　like　all　such　machines　had　proprietary　source…code　unique　to　the　brand。　The　source…code；　however；　was　known　to　the　National　Security　Agency。
　Immediately　upon　installation；　the　Ghost　program…as　it　had　been　christened　at　Fort　Meade；　Maryland…had　buried　itself　in　a　special　niche　in　the　NEC's　operating　system；　the　newest　version　of　Microsoft　Windows。　The　niche　had　been　created　by　a　Microsoft　employee　whose　favorite　uncle　had　died　over　North　Vietnam　while　flying　an　F…105　fighter…bomber；　and　who　did　his　patriotic　work　entirely　without　the　knowledge　of　his　parent　pany。　It　also　dovetailed　exactly　with　the　NEC　code；　with　the　effect　of　making　it　virtually　invisible　even　to　a　line…by…line　inspection　of　all　the　code　within　the　machine　by　an　expert　software　engineer。
　The　Ghost　had　gone　immediately　to　work；　creating　a　di…rectory　that　sorted　the　documents　on　Ming's　puter　first　by　date　of　creation　modification；　and　then　by　file　type。　Some　files；　like　the　operating　system；　it　ignored。　It　similarly　ignored　the　NEC…created　transcription　program　that　converted　Roman　characters；　actually　the　English　phonemes　of　the　spoken　Mandarin　language；　into　the　corresponding　ideographs；　but　the　Ghost　did　not　ignore　the　graphic…text　files　that　resulted　from　that　program。　Those　it　copied；　along　with　telephone　indexes　and　every　other　text　file　on　the　five…gigabyte　hard　drive。　This　entire　procedure　took　the　machine；　guided　by　the　Ghost；　seventeen…point…one…four　seconds；　leaving　a　large　file　that　sat　by　itself。
　The　machine　did　nothing　for　a　second　and　a　half；　then　new　activity　started。　The　NEC　desktop　machines　had　built…in　high…speed　modems。　The　Ghost　activated　these；　but　also　turned　off　their　internal　mini…speakers　so　that　no　evidence　of　the　transmission　would　be　heard　by　anyone。　（Leaving　the　speakers　on　was　a　primary　security　measure。　The　flashing　lights　that　told　of　their　activity　were　hidden　because　the　modem　was　inside　the　box　for　this　model。）　The　puter　then　dialed　（this　term　had　somehow　survived　the　demise　of　rotary　dials　on　telephones）　a　twelve…digit　number　rather　than　the　usual　seven　used　by　the　Beijing　telephone　system。　The　additional　five　digits　sent　the　seeker…signal　on　a　round…robin　adventure　through　the　hardware　of　the　central　switching　puter；　and　it　came　out　in　the　place　designated　two　weeks　before　by　the　engineers　at　Fort　Meade；　who；　of　course；　never　had　an　idea　what　this　was　all　for；　or　where　it　would　happen；　or　who　might　be　involved。　The　number　that　rang…actually　there　wasn't　a　mechanical　or　electronic　ringer　of　any　sort…was　the　dedicated　modem　line　that　exited　the　wall　by　Chester　Nomuri's　desk　and　ended　in　the　back　of　his　very　high…end　laptop…which　was　not　an　NEC；　because　here；　as　with　most　puter　applications；　the　best　was　still　American。
　Nomuri　was　also　watching　TV　at　the　moment；　though　in　his　case　it　was　the　CNN　international　news；　so　that　he　could　know　what　was　going　on　at　home。　After　that　he'd　switch　to　a　Japanese　satellite　channel；　because　it　was　part　of　his　cover。　A　samurai　show　he　liked　was　on　tonight；　in　theme　and　simplicity　rather　like　the　Westerns　that　had　polluted　American　TV　in　the　1950s。　Though　an　educated　man　and　a　professional　intelligence　officer；　Nomuri　liked　mindless　entertainment　as　much　as　anyone　else。　The　beep　made　him　turn　his　head。　Though　his　puter　had　software　similar　to　that　running　in　Ming's　office；　he'd　allowed　the　aural　prompt　to　tell　him　that　something　was　ing　in；　and　a　three…key　code　lit　up　his　screen　to　show　exactly　what　it　was　and　where　it　was　ing　from。
　Yes！　the　CIA　officer　exulted；　his　right　fist　slamming　into　his　open　left　hand　hard　enough　to　sting。　Yes。　He　had　his　agent　in　fucking　place；　and　here　was　the　take　from　Operation　SORGE。　A　bar　at　the　top　of　the　screen　showed　that　the　data　was　ing　it　at　a　rate　of　57；000　bits　per　second。
　That　was　pretty　fast。　Now；　just　hope　that　the　local　mie　phone　system　didn't　develop　a　bad　connection　somewhere　between　Ming's　office　and　the　switching　center；　and　from　the　switching　center　to　his　flat；　Chester　thought。　Shouldn't　be　much　of　a　problem。　The　outbound　leg　from　Ming's　office　would　be　first…rate；　tasked　as　it　was　to　the　service　of　the　Party　nobility。　And　from　the　switching　center　to　his　place　would　be　okay；　because　he'd　gotten　numerous　messages　that　way；　most　of　them　from　NEC　in　Tokyo　to　congratulate　him　on　exceeding　his　sales　quota　already。
　Yeah；　well；　Chet；　you　are　pretty　good　at　making　a　sale；　aren't　you？　he　asked　himself　on　the　way　to　the　kitchen。　He　figured　he　owed　himself　a　drink　for　this　bit　of　performance。　On　returning；　he　saw　that　the　download　wasn't　finished　yet。
　Damn。　How　much　shit　is　she　sending　me？　Then　he　realized　that　the　text　files　he　was　getting　were　actually　graphics　files；　because　Ming's　puter　didn't　store　ideographs　as　letters；　but　rather　as　the　pictures　that　they　actually　were。　That　made　the　files　memory…intensive。　Exactly　how　memory…intensive　they　were；　he　saw　forty　minutes　later　when　the　download　ended。
　At　the　far　end　of　the　electronic　chain；　the　Ghost　program　appeared　to　shut　itself　down；　but　in　fact　it　slept　rather　as　a　dog　did；　one　ear　always　cocked　up；　and　always　aware　of　the　time　of　day。　On　finishing　the　transmission；　the　Ghost　made　a　notation　on　its　inside　index　of　the　files。　It　had　sent　everything　up　until　this　day。　From　now　on；　it　would　only　send　new　ones…which　would　make　for　much　shorter　and　faster　transmissions…but　only　in　the　evening；　and　only　after　ninety…five　minutes　of　total　inactivity　on　the　puter；　and　only　when　it　was　outwardly　in　auto…sleep　mode。　Tradecraft　and　caution　had　been　programmed　in。
　〃Fuck；〃　Nomuri　breathed　on　seeing　the　size　of　the　download。　In　pictures　this　could　be　the　porno　shots　of　damned　near　every　hooker　in　Hong　Kong。　But　his　job　was　only　half　done。　He　lit　up　a　program　of　his　own　and　selected　the　〃Preferences〃　folder　that　controlled　it。　Already　checked　was　the　box　for　auto　encryption。　Virtually　everything　on　his　puter　was　encrypted　anyway；　which　was　easily　explainable　as　trade　and　business　secrets…Japanese　panies　are　renowned　for　the　secrecy　of　their　operations…but　with　some　files　more　encrypted　than　others。　The　ones　that　arrived　from　the　Ghost　got　the　most　robust　scrambling；　from　a　mathematically　derived　transcription　system；　fully　512　bits　in　the　key；　plus　an　additional　random　element　which　Nomuri　could　not　duplicate。　That　was　in　addition　to　his　numeric　password；　51240；　the　street　number　of　his　first　〃score〃　in　East　LA。　Then　it　was　time　to　transmit　his　take。
　This　program　was　a　close　cousin　to　the　Ghost　he'd　given　Ming。　But　this　one　dialed　the　local　Internet　Service　Provider；　or　ISP；　and　sent　off　a　lengthy　e…mail　to　a　destination　called　patsbakery　@brownienet。　The　〃brownienet〃　was　putatively　a　network　established　for　bakeries　and　bakers；　professional　and　amateur；　who　liked　to　swap　recipes；　often　posting　photos　of　their　creations　for　people　to　download；　which　explained　the　occasional　large　file　transferred。　Photographs　are　notoriously　rapacious　in　their　demands　for　bytes　and　disk　space。
　In　fact；　Mary　Patricia　Foley　had　posted　her　own　highly　satisfactory　recipe　for　French　apple　pie；　along　with　a　photo　her　elder　son　had　taken　with　his　Apple　electronic　camera。　Doing　so　hadn't　been　so　much　a　case　of　establishing　a　good　cover　as　womanly　pride　in　her　own　abilities　as　a　cook；　after　spending　an　hour　one　night　looking　over　the　recipes　others　had　put　on　this　bulletin　board。　She'd　tried　one　from　a　woman　in　Michigan　a　few　weeks　previously　and　found　it　okay；　but　not　great。　In　ing　weeks　she　wanted　to　try　some　of　the　bread　recipes；　which　did　look　promising。
　It　was　morning　when　Nomuri　uploaded　his　e…mail　to　Pat's　Bakery；　an　entirely　real　and　legitimate　business　three　blocks　from　the　statehouse　in　Madison；　Wisconsin；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　owned　by　a　former　CIA　officer　in　the　Science　and　Technology　Directorate；　now　retired　and　a　grandmother　who　was；　however；　too　young　for　knitting。　She'd　created　this　Internet　domain；　paying　the　nominal　fee　and　then　forgetting　about　it；　just　as　she'd　forgotten　nearly　everything　she'd　ever　done　at　Langley。
　〃You've　got　mail；〃　the　puter　said　when　MP　switched　on　her　Internet　mail　service；　which　used　the　new　Pony　Express　e…mail　program。　She　keyed　the　download　mand　and　saw　the　originator　was　cgoodjadecastle。　The　username　was　from　Gunsmoke。　Marshal　Dillon's　crippled　sidekick　had　been　named　Chester　Good。
　
　DOWNLOADING；　the　prompt…box　on　the　screen　said。　It　also　gave　an　estimate　for　how　long　the　download　would　take。　47MINUTES。。。！
　
　〃Son　of　a　bitch；〃　the　DDO　breathed；　and　lifted　her　phone。　She　pressed　a　button；　waiting　a　second　for　the　right　voice　to　answer。　〃Ed；　better　e　see　this。。
　〃Okay；　honey；　give　me　a　minute。〃
　The　Director　of　Central　Intelligence　came　in；　holding　his　morning　mug　of　coffee；　to　see　his　wife　of　twenty…three　years　leaning　back；　away　from　her　puter　screen。　Rarely　in　that　time　had　Mary　Pat　ever　backed　away　from　anything。　It　just　wasn't　her　nature。
　〃From　our　Japanese　friend？〃　Ed　asked　his　wife。
　〃So　it　would　seem；〃　MP　replied。
　〃How　much　stuff　is　this？〃
　〃Looks　like　a　lot。　I　suppose　Chester　is　pretty　good　in　the　sack。〃
　〃Who　trained　him？〃
　〃Whoever　it　was；　we　need　to　get　his　ass　down　to　The　Farm　and　pass　all　that　knowledge　along。　For　that　matter；〃　she　added；　with　a　changed　voice　and　an　upward　look　to　catch　her　husband's　eye；　〃maybe　you　could　audit　the　course；　honey…bunny。〃
　〃Is　that　a　plaint？〃
　〃There's　always　room　for　improvement…and；　okay；　yes；　I　need　to　drop　fifteen　pounds；　too；〃　she　added；　to　cut　the　DCI　off　before　he　could　reply　in　kind。　He　hated　when　she　did　that。　But　not　now。　Now　his　hand　touched　her　face　quite　tende