Читать книгу The Prime Network - Gerard G. Nahum - Страница 11

6 NATIONAL SECURITY

MR. GREGORY’S INVENTION PROVIDED HIM WITH AN ability to do things that were clearly marvelous. But it was also evident that it could pose a risk to national security if it were used improperly.

Soon after his shepherding of the Panamanian freighter through the Strait of Hormuz and his prediction of the earthquake in Southern California, there was recognition by the president and his cabinet that the technology Mr. Gregory possessed was so powerful that it could change the way events transpired all around the world. That raised two questions: What type of an invention was it, and how could it be put to use to further the best interests of the United States? But looming in the background was an even larger question and cause for concern: How could it be misused if it fell into the wrong hands?

At the behest of the president, talks were held at the highest levels of government to decide how to evaluate Mr. Gregory’s invention as quickly as possible. The director of national intelligence, a bright-eyed and energetic man with razor-sharp intellect, was asked to take the lead of the ensuing investigations.

The week after the earthquake, he convened a meeting of his staff together with the heads of the other intelligence services at the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

After he welcomed the participants and outlined the goals of the meeting, he began by asking the chief of his investigative team, “What do we know so far?”

“Whatever he has, it’s remarkable,” he replied with a note of envy. “We’ve estimated the probability that the earthquake would have occurred with the time, place, and magnitude he predicted as less than one in a trillion.”

“So the fact that it happened wasn’t an accident. Is that your point?” the DNI asked with a note of condescension.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” he replied in a more measured tone. “So let’s eliminate the obvious: Was he responsible for its occurrence?”

An impeccably dressed man with silver hair at the far end of the table responded. “There’s no evidence to support that,” the director of the Defense Intelligence Agency said coolly. “He was over two thousand miles away, and he was under continuous surveillance. Furthermore, the USGS and NOAA recorded spontaneous fault line activity—there were no external triggers that preceded the event.”

“Are we satisfied with that assessment?” the DNI asked. “Is there anything else we could have missed?”

“Not likely,” he replied. “The probability that it’s correct is over ninety percent.”

“What about him conspiring with other actors? Is that ruled out?” the DNI asked.

Another of the intelligence chiefs in the room, an athletic-appearing man in his forties, replied. “He had no unusual communications, and there was no indication of outside interference,” he responded casually. “That assessment is also over ninety percent.”

“Okay,” the DNI replied. “Tell me about the freighter getting through the strait. What were the chances of that?” He looked across the table at a mature-looking woman with pince-nez glasses. The DNI had worked with her previously on other sensitive matters, and he relied on her as a trusted confidante.

“Given the situation and the weather conditions in the strait six hours before the ship’s passage, we estimated the probability that it would get through as less than one in ten thousand,” she responded self-assuredly.

“All right then. It’s clear he has something,” the DNI said, resigned. “Do we know what it is?”

“No, sir. I’m afraid we don’t at this point,” she replied, her voice ringing with frustration.

“Well, we need to find out—and in a hurry,” he responded gruffly. “Where was he when the two events occurred?”

“At his town house in Alexandria,” the head of the investigative team answered.

“Then whatever he’s using has to be there,” he said. “Have we been inside yet?”

“No,” replied his chief of staff. “Legal is trying to formulate the case for a warrant.”

“What’s the holdup?” the DNI asked, clearly annoyed.

“The Fourth Amendment,” said the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, who was sitting immediately beside him.

“Doesn’t the USA PATRIOT Act give us enough cover to do a search?” the DNI asked incredulously.

“It could if there were evidence of terrorist activity,” the head of the FBI’s legal team said from the back of the room. “But so far, he hasn’t done anything detrimental to anybody or to the interests of the United States.”

“Yes, I agree it appears that way,” the DNI replied, seeming to lecture him. “But we also don’t know what else he’s been doing. If there’s any potential for terrorist intent, the act would allow us to perform a search.”

“We’re looking into that, sir,” his chief of staff responded.

“Well, look faster,” he replied brusquely. “We can’t let that hold us up. We need to know what he has, and we need it yesterday.”

A pregnant silence filled the room. Then the DNI asked, “What about the Invention Secrecy Act?”

“Do you mean 82-256?” asked one of the female staff lawyers at the side of the room.

“Yes, the act from 1951. Can’t we use that?”

“He’s never filed for any patents,” she replied.

“And that makes him exempt from the statute?” the DNI asked skeptically.

The lawyer replied hesitantly. “Its provisions pertain to withholding patents that are detrimental to national security, sir.”

“Well, it’s certainly a national security issue,” he shot back.

She stammered for a moment before responding. “Yes, sir. But there aren’t any patents to withhold,” she replied awkwardly. “The act pertains to the sequestration and government use of what he’s chosen to disclose to the USPTO when it’s in the national interest. It doesn’t pertain to search and seizure.”

There was a brief silence as the DNI pondered the options for resolving what he viewed as an untenable situation. “Are you sure there aren’t any related filings that would give us some clue about what he has?” he asked. “It doesn’t seem reasonable that he’d try to go it alone without any type of patent protection.”

“Apparently, that’s what he’s done,” the lawyer’s superior interjected from the side of the room. “There isn’t anything on file with the US Patent and Trademark Office, either from him or from any entity where he has an interest.”

The DNI frowned. “Then either he’s very brave, or he thinks he has something so unique that nobody can duplicate it,” he replied gruffly, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis.

“Or even worse, it’s all in his head,” the director of the Central Intelligence Agency added pensively. “That would be the nightmare scenario.”

“Keep working on it,” the DNI said tersely. “If we’re not fast enough, you can be sure that someone else will get hold of it first. We can’t let that happen.” He glanced around the table to see each of the sullen faces nod slowly.

The meeting was over.