‘Dave, it’s me,’ I replied, deliberately using his little-known first name, just in case somebody was listening, keeping the tone light and unhurried despite my excitement and a thrumming anxiety concerning my surroundings.
Although he must have been surprised to hear my voice, he picked up the tenor of the conversation immediately. ‘Hey, what’s happening?’ he said, just as casually, and I was reminded once again how good a case officer he really was.
‘You know the woman we were talking about, Leyla Cumali?’
‘The cop?’
‘Yeah. Well, her real name is Leyla al-Nassouri.’
‘Sounds Arabic.’
‘You’re right. It was her in the phone box.’
There was dead silence at the other end. Despite Whisperer’s studied indifference, despite his years of experience and enormous talent, I had shocked the quiet voice out of him.
I didn’t know it then, but the effect of my words was amplified by the rolling failure of all our other efforts. The hundred thousand agents working for a host of intelligence agencies, everyone supposedly looking for a man trying to build a dirty bomb, were delivering a lot of heat but absolutely no light. Deep down, Whisperer figured we were dealing with a cleanskin and that the chances of catching him in time were diminishing by the hour.
‘Oh yeah – in the phone box, huh?’ he said, recovering his voice and making it sound as if it didn’t mean much at all. ‘You sure about that?’
‘No doubt. I met a guy who played an instrument – I won’t try to pronounce it – made from the wing bone of an eagle. He showed me some footage.’
‘Sounds weird,’ Whisperer said, sounding as if it was all pretty amusing. ‘How do you spell it? Al-Nassouri, not the eagle thing.’
I told him and, in normal circumstances, the next question would have been about where I was calling from, but I was certain he already knew. Given his job, all calls to Whisperer’s cellphone were recorded, and I figured that he would have already scribbled a note to one of his assistants and had Echelon track the call.
While he was waiting for the answer, I kept talking. ‘There’s something I feel strongly about, Dave – very strongly indeed. You have to go softly; you should be careful who you talk to.’
‘Why?’ he replied. ‘You figure some folks will come up with a bright idea? They might want to move in and start hurting people?’
‘Exactly. We assume she can contact him but I’m pretty sure the system is booby-trapped.’
‘A deliberate mistake under duress – something like that?’
‘Yeah.’
He thought about it for a few seconds. ‘I guess the guy would be foolish if it wasn’t.’
‘We could lose him totally.’
‘I understand,’ he said. There was another pause while he considered what to do. ‘I’m gonna have to run this past at least one other person. You with me?’
He meant the president. ‘Can you convince him to hold back?’ I said.
‘I should think so, he’s an intelligent man, he’ll get the problem. Can you nail this business down?’ he asked.
‘Find him? I’ve got a good chance,’ I replied.
I heard a small sigh of relief – or maybe it was just his blood pressure heading back down to earth. ‘Okay, we’ll assume we’re going with the confidential thing. I’ll get the researchers back on to her,’ he said.
‘You saw their previous efforts?’ I asked.
‘Sure – not much good, was it?’
‘Fucking hopeless. We’ve gotta colour outside the lines, use other people.’
‘Who?’
Halfway across Turkey, following the white line for mile after mile until I was almost hypnotized, I had been thinking about the CIA’s research and how the hell to compensate for it. Somewhere just south of Istanbul, I decided what we had to do. Hai domo, I said to myself.
‘There’s someone I know,’ I said. ‘I told him once that if I was in a corner and needed computer help, he’d be the guy I’d call. His name’s Battleboi.’
‘Repeat that,’ Whisperer replied.
‘Battleboi.’
‘That’s what I thought you said.’
‘It’s with an “i” at the end, not a “y”.’
‘Oh good, that makes a difference. Battleboi with an “i” – it’s almost normal, isn’t it?’
‘His real name’s Lorenzo – that’s his first name. He’s been busted for stealing the details of fifteen million credit cards.’
I heard Whisperer typing on a keyboard, obviously accessing an FBI database, and a moment later he was talking again.