He had placed the number in his suit coat and forgotten about it until a couple of days later when he went to wear the coat again and rediscovered the number. For some reason, he never quite fathomed why, he had periodically pulled the number out, staring at it, until eventually he had committed it to memory. However reluctant he might feel, the future of his country might well be in the hands of America.
The numbers punched by Alneuf routed his call to a nondescript, unoccupied apartment in a southern suburb of Algiers. The electronic communications system, hidden in the walls behind the telephone receptacle, took the incoming call, changed its sequence, and returned it to the telephone system. There, the PKI (Public Key Infrastructure) coded program added to a fake number caused the Algerian telephone system to identify it as originating from Cairo and going to a little known Algiers travel bureau. The system directed the call to the telephone at that address, where a slave wire, expertly melded into the lines, piped the call to a small electronic device located on top of a nearby telephone pole. The call then went covertly into the line leading to the American Embassy. President Alneuf waited as the phone rang several times.
Paul Mcmillan, the duty officer for the chief of station at the American Embassy, heard the telephone ring, but finished slamming the top slice of bread on his peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich before reaching over and answering. Twenty years doing this job and, for the first time in his career, he wished he was back at Falls Church pushing papers.
“Hello,” he said, taking a large bite of the sandwich at the same time, believing the phone call originated inside the embassy. He pushed a wisp of gray hair, matted to his forehead from the heat, back across the top of his head, leaving a few crumbs of bread in its place.
“Hello, my friend. I was given this number to call in the event that I wanted to take a trip for my health. I understand that travel arrangements can be made through your excellent services?”
Paul coughed as the peanut butter and jelly clung to the roof of his mouth. He moved the phone away momentarily to spit the unchewed mess onto the plate, and ran his finger inside to free what was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Yes,” he said, coughing twice, as he flipped on the nearby recorder.
“We have many nice packages that may be of use to you, sir. May I ask which one you are interested in?”
“I am interested in the “Big Apple,”” Alneuf replied.
Paul ran his finger down the list of code words taped to the desk beside the phone. He found
“Big Apple.” “Jesus Christ!” he said aloud to himself.
“No, just a humble traveler who would enjoy a short tour to the Big Apple.”
“Yes, sir. New York is available at this time of the year. The heat is extremely high right now, but I am certain that we can arrange the flight, hotel reservations, and follow-on transportation that you require. I will need to know how we can contact you.”
“Ah, yes, my friend. Your friend Mark contacted acquaintances of my father years ago. I will visit that same chalet tomorrow night. I can give you a call at that time. I would give you this number, but I doubt that I will be here much longer. My travel plans are slightly erratic at this time, you understand?”
“I understand, sir. My name is Paul Mcmillan and I will be your representative until travel is arranged and delivered.”
“Thank you, sir, and when may I expect confirmation?”
“I will be expecting your call tomorrow night. I am very familiar with Mark’s visit and, if we are unable to talk further about your plans, you can expect our travel representative to arrive the same way my friend Mark did.”
“Thank you. I look forward to meeting with your representatives tomorrow night. I am booking this with the understanding that there are no strings attached for me using your company. In other words, I am not obliged to use you in the future or to stay with your travel agency after I arrive? Right now, I find no other travel bureau available with the same offers as yours,” Alneuf said.
“No, sir. Our policy is quite clear, as our representative told you.
We are a respectable company whose only desire is to see our customers have the degree of freedom to choose their own holidays.”
“Thank you. I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Mcmillan.”
The agent waited until the phone clicked on the other end. Damn! The whole country and world was looking for President Alneuf, and he’d just gotten off the phone with him. The rebels hadn’t captured the deposed president as their radio broadcasts had reported.
He hurriedly scribbled the appropriate log notations, and checked to see that the voice-actuated recorder was reset to the intercept-and-record position. He tossed the digitized tape of their conversation onto the table.
Thirty seconds later, Paul was out of the windowless, steel lined compartment. CIA work was never as glamorous as novels made it, but instances like this made it rewarding. Stepping into the corridor, the agent hurried down a flight of stairs, two steps at a time, to the second floor and onto the balcony. A Marine sentry watched the crowd below in the courtyard.
“Lots of people?” Paul asked as he approached.
“They’re still delivering them,” the Marine replied.
Another truck pulled in front of the embassy. About twenty people, some with families, crawled out of the military vehicle and were escorted by unsmiling rebel sentries to the entrance.
“How many now?” Paul asked.
“Over six hundred as of this morning.”
Paul shook his head. “Well, we should be all right as long as they leave the electricity and water alone.”
The Marine looked at him. “Haven’t you heard? They turned the water off an hour ago.”
The truck pulled away. Combat-garbed Marines opened the gate to allow the refugees inside the compound.
“The Nassau amphibious readiness group is closing the coast,” the young Marine offered. “Then we’ll show those assholes who the hell they’re messing with.”
“Can’t get here soon enough for my taste,” Paul said as he eased past the sentry. “Good luck, Marine. See you later.”
The Marine waved. From the distance, sporadic gunfire echoed through the night. Lights in the building had been turned off to reduce targets for the snipers, who periodically peppered the embassy. The number of sniper incidents had increased today. Since 1800 hours, two Marines and two refugees had been wounded. The wounded Marines were already back on the perimeter.
Paul reached the ambassador’s offices and entered without knocking.
Thirty minutes later the message left the embassy, released by the chief of station, to the duty officer at Falls Church, Virginia.
The CIA duty officer printed the message as soon as it appeared on her console. She ripped it from the printer and hurried upstairs to the deputy director’s office. The secretary said the deputy director was out jogging, but was due back soon. She offered to wait for the former Marine Corps colonel’s return, but the secretary said she’d see that he got it.
Okay, the duty officer said reluctantly, and then left. But she’d return later, she said to herself. She’d return for two reasons. One, professionally, she wanted to ensure that the deputy director received the message. Two, he was single and so was she; he was much older, but she preferred them that way.
An hour later the deputy director strolled through the door as his secretary locked the safes and turned off her computer.