Shibumi Read Free Page B

confidence in that organization has not been without limits.” The Arab tipped his head onto his shoulder and grinned apologetically at Starr, who examined his cuticles with deep interest.
    The Arab continued. “Our intelligence organ was able to supply CIA with the names of the two Zionist gangsters assigned to this criminal attack, and with the approximate date of their departure from Tel Aviv. To this, Mr. Starr doubtless added his own sources of information; and he decided to avert the tragedy by technique of what you call a ‘spoiling raid,’ arranging that the criminals be executed before they committed their crime—a most economical judicial process. Now, you have shown me certain audiovisual medias proving that this raid was successful, I shall report this to my superiors. It is for them to be satisfied or nonsatisfied; not me.”
    Diamond, whose mind had been elsewhere through most of the Arab’s singsong monologue, now rose. “That’s it, then.” Without further word, he strode up the aisle, followed immediately by his First Assistant.
    Starr hooked his leg over the seat before him and drew out a cigar. “You want to see it again?” he asked the Arab over his shoulder.
    “That would be pleasant.”
    Starr pressed the talk button of his console, “Hey, buddy? Let’s have it again.” He slipped his sunglasses up into his cropped hair as the lights dimmed down. “Here we go. A rerun. And on prime time.” Pronounced: prahm tahm.
     
    * * *
     
    As he walked quickly down the white-walled corridor of the Center, Diamond’s fury was manifest only in the sharp click of his leather heels over the tiles. He had trained himself to restrict his emotions to a very narrow band of expression, but the slight tension around his mouth and his half-defocused stare were sufficient to alert the First Assistant that anger was writhing within him.
    They stepped into the elevator, and the First Assistant inserted a magnetic card into the slot that replaced the button for Floor 16. The car dropped rapidly from the main lobby to the subbasement suite coded as Floor 16. The first thing Diamond had done when he took over CIA activities on behalf of the Mother Company was to create a work area for himself in the bowels of the Center. No CIA personnel had access to Floor 16; the office suite was enclosed in lead sheeting with antibugging alarms designed to keep that organization in its traditional state of ignorance. As further security against governmental curiosity, Diamond’s office was served by a direct computer link with the Mother Company through cables that were armored against the parallel-line/incidental capacitance method of eavesdropping by means of which NSA monitors telephone and telegraph communications in the United States.
    In constant touch with the research and communications facilities of Mother Company, Diamond needed only a staff of two: his First Assistant, who was a gifted artist at computer search; and his secretary, Miss Swivven.
    They stepped out into a large open work space, the walls and carpets all in matte white. In the center was a discussion area consisting of five lightly padded chairs around a table, with an etched glass top that served as a screen upon which television images generated by the computer complex could be projected. Of the five chairs, only one could swivel: Diamond’s. The others were set rigidly into the floor and were designed to provide minimal comfort. The area was for quick, alert discussion—not for small-talk and social fencing.
    Into the wall across from the discussion area was built a console that linked their computer with the Mother Company’s master system: Fat Boy. The bank also contained television, telephoto and teletype connections back to Fat Boy for printout of verbal and visual data, together with local storage banks for short-term hold and cross-reference. The First Assistant’s place was always before this console, upon which instrument he played with