The men were listening now and looking very puzzled. All the doodling had stopped.
'Wright was listed as a Potential Surveillance Subject at the end of 1968, after he had engaged in some questionable activities to influence the national election. As a PSS he did nothing out of the ordinary until six months ago. Then two things happened.
`First, Wright began to transfer large amounts of money from various accounts in this country and in Switzerland. As you know, we keep an eye on private capital transfers in excess of $300,000. Wright was moving much more than that. Secondly, he began to be seen with known underworld figures. The pattern of behaviour suggested a courtship, and we became very concerned at that point.'
The slides changed again several times in rapid succession, showing smooth-faced businessmen. `Robert ".`Trigger" Cannino. Sal Martucci. Benny Flick. Gerald "Tiny" Margolin. These are some of the men he saw during that period.'
The slides now showed Wright in restaurants, at taxi stands, and in Central Park with these men.
`Active surveillance began in June 1972, when Wright left New York for San Diego. He was clearly making plans for the Republican Convention, but their nature was not clear, and he was giving himself much too much time. I ran the surveillance from the start. During the surveillance period his contacts with organized crime have substantially decreased. He has been seeing only one person consistently - this man.'
The screen showed a bald, glowering face.
'Eddie "The Key" Trasker, fifty-three, a resident of Las Vegas who lives mostly in San Diego. He is reputed to be the power behind the Teamsters, and his influence over all forms of interstate transportation is enormous. Wright has seen him nearly every week, often during the early hours of the morning.
`He has also come in contact with this man, Timothy Drew, an ex-Army officer with a background in computers. The meaning of that association was unclear to me until this morning. Drew clearly represents Sigma Station; Drew tapped out classified Defence information for Wright. We do not know what kind of information, or why it was stolen.'
Graves sat down and looked at the faces. Phelps said, `Questions, gentlemen?'
McPherson, from the President's staff, cleared his throat. `I gather from Mr Graves' excellent but rather psychologically oriented presentation that we have no damned idea what Wright is up to. Is that substantially correct?'
`Yes, it is,' Graves said.
`Well then,' McPherson said, `I'm afraid we can do nothing. Wright has acted suspiciously and is quite probably deranged. Neither is a crime in this country.'
`I disagree,' Corey said, sitting back in his chair. Corey was Defence liaison; a heavyset man with thick eyebrows that joined over his nose. `I think we have plenty of reason to apprehend Wright at this time.'
`Plenty of reason,' McPherson said, `but no evidence, no charges…'
Whitlock, from the justice Department, straightened his tie and said, `I'm sure we all agree this is an unpleasant sort of meeting. Mr Wright is a private citizen and he is entitled to do as he pleases so long as he does not commit a crime. I've seen and heard nothing that suggests a crime has been or will be committed, and '
`What about the underworld contacts?' Corey said.
Whitlock smiled. `What about them?'
`I think that's very suggestive -'
`But he has broken no law,' Whitlock said. `And until he.does…' He shrugged.
Corey frowned, pushing his eyebrows into a black, ominous V. `An interrogation would be useful, even without a criminal act,' he said. `I think we have a basis for interrogation here - Wright's association with Timothy Drew, who has stolen classified information, probably for Wright. Can't we pick him up on that?'
`I feel we should,' Phelps said, speaking for the first time.
Graves spun around to look at Phelps.
`I disagree,' McPherson said.
Whitlock made some notes on the pad in front of him. Finally he said, `Perhaps an interrogation is the safest route. I think we need to know what was tapped out by Sigma Station. Mr Corey?'
`Pick him up.'
`Mr Phelps?'
`Pick him up.'
`Mr McPherson?'
`Opposed.'
Whitlock spread his hands. Graves said nothing. The meeting was over.
`If there are no further questions,' Phelps said, `we can adjourn.'
`You didn't like that, did you?' Phelps said, as they walked back through the travel agency.
`No,' Graves said. `I didn't.'
`Still,' Phelps said, `I think it's best. Arrest him today, on suspicion of conspiracy to commit grand larceny involving classified information.'
`Isn't it robbery?'
Phelps sighed patiently. `Robbery and larceny are different crimes.'
Graves said, `How long can I wait?'
`A few hours. Play with him if you want, but pick him up by evening. I want to get to the bottom of this.'
Graves couldn't make the arrest himself. He'd need federal marshals. `You'll notify the marshals in San Diego?'
`They're waiting for your call,' Phelps said, and smiled. As much as he ever did.
Graves had fifteen minutes before he had to return to the airport. As he walked out of the travel agency, he heard a room filled with mechanical chatter. Curious, he paused and opened the door. He found that one office had been converted into a temporary hardware room. It had once been somebody's office, but now there were six teletypes and computer consoles installed there. He was reminded that the State Department (Intelligence Division) and the NSA had more computers than any other organizations in the world.
The room was empty at this hour. He glanced at the teletypes, noting their colour. When he first started working at State in the early sixties, rooms like this had contained five red teletypes and one blue teletype. The red machines recorded information from over-seas stations and embassies; the blue was for domestic data. Now, four of the machines were blue and only two were red.
There had been a shift in orientation for State Intelligence. Nobody cared any longer about the movements of an eighth assistant deputy minister in the Yugoslav government. They were much more interested in the number five man in the Black Panther Party, or the number three man in the John Birch Society, or the number six man in Americans for a Better Nation.
He sat down at a computer console, stared at the blank TV screen, and began typing in Wright's call numbers. The screen glowed and printed out the categories of stored information:
Graves stared at the categories with some distaste. It was disturbing that the government should have so much information on a private individual - particularly one who had committed no criminal act at any time.
Then on an impulse he pushed the `Wipe' button and the screen went blank. He typed in `Graves, John Norman', followed by his own call-up number. He sat back and watched the numbers print out on the screen:
He hesitated, then punched `Auth: VQ'
After another hesitation, he punched `Phelps, Richard D'.
RECORD CALL-UP NAME AS PHELPS, RICHARD D. FILE CONTENTS CANNOT BE DISPLAYED ON THIS CONSOLE TO THE ABOVENAMED PERSON. CALL-UP PERSON IS ADVISED TO ACQUIRE NTK AUTHORIZATION FROM DEPARTMENT HEAD.