Terminal Compromise

Stephanie and Sonja wondered how the two had already met; it was their job to report such things to Alex, but it really didn't matter any more. They were quitting.

The first round of drinks was downed quickly and the tension in the room abated slightly. The four spoke casually, albeit some- what guardedly. The harmless small talk was only a prelude to Scott's question when the girls stepped into the kitchen. Per- haps they left the room on purpose.

"Listen," Scott whispered urgently to Miles. "I know who you are, and that you're tied up with h.o.m.osoto and the computer nutsiness that's going on everywhere. You have a lot of people looking for you and we only have a few seconds," Scott said glancing up at the kitchen door. "I see the situation as fol- lows. You get to tell your side of the story to the authorities in private, or you can tell me first and I put it in tomorrow's paper. This may be your only chance to get your side of the story out. All of sudden, you're big news. What'll it be?"

Scott spoke confidently and waited for Miles' answer.

Miles intently scanned every inch of Scott's face in minute detail. "That f.u.c.king gook. You're d.a.m.n right I'll talk. First of all, it's a lie," Miles hissed. "If they're coming after me, I have to protect myself. Can't trust a f.u.c.king slant eye, can you?"

The girls returned with fresh drinks and sat down on the white leather couch. Miles and Scott continued their discussion.

"What happened?" Scott asked. Miles looked over at the stunning Sonja, stripping her naked with his stare and then at Stephanie who had caught his stare.

"It's very simple," Miles said after a while. His dimples deep- ened while he forced a smile. "h.o.m.osoto's f.u.c.ked us all." He nodded his head as he looked at his three companions. "Me.

Royally. How the h.e.l.l can I defend myself against accusations from the grave." He shrugged his shoulders. "And you," he point- ed at Scott. "You've kept the fear going. Haven't you. You picked up the scent and you've been writing about it for months.

Setting his stage for him. Like a puppet. And then? After you sensitize the public, he commits suicide. He used you."

"And then, you two," Miles said to Stephanie and Sonja. "You could be out in the cold in days. Bet you didn't know you were in on it. Am I right?"

"In on what?" Scott asked Miles and Sonja.

"Tell him," Miles said to Sonja. "I've never met you, but I can guess what you do for a living."

"She's a PR person," interjected Scott.

"Go on, tell him, or I will," Miles said again.

Sonja's eyes pleaded with Miles to stop it. Please, stop. I'll do it in my own way, in time. Please,

The front door bell rang and broke the intense silence. It rang again as Sonja went to answer.

"Yes, he's here," she whispered.

The door opened and Tyrone Duncan came into the room while anoth- er man stood at the door. Tyrone walked up to Miles. Scott was in absolute awe. How the h.e.l.l? Ty had said tomorrow.

"Mr. Foster? Miles Foster?" Tyrone asked without pleasantries.

"Yeah," Miles said haughtily.

"FBI," Ty said flas.h.i.+ng his badge. "You're under arrest for trafficking in stolen computer access cards and theft of serv- ice." Tyrone took a breath and waved a piece of paper in the air. "We searched your apartment and found telephone company access codes that... "

"I want to call my lawyer," Miles interrupted calmly. "Now," he commanded.

"... have been used to bypa.s.s billing procedures."

"I said I want to call my lawyer," Miles again said emphatical- ly.

"I'll be out in an hour," he said aside to Stephanie and kissed her on the cheek. His arrogance was unnerving; this wasn't the same Miles that Scott had known in Amsterdam. There, he was just another misguided but well-intentioned techno-anarchist who was more danger to himself than anyone else. But now, as Tyrone read a list of charges against him, mostly arcane FBI domain inter- state offenses, Miles took on a new character. A worldly crimi- nal whom the FBI was arresting for potential terrorist activi- ties.

"And those are for starters, Mister," Tyrone said after reading off a list of penal violations by code number. As if following a script, Tyrone added, "you have the right to remain silent..."

He wanted to make sure that this was a clean arrest, and with this many witnesses, he was going to follow procedure to the letter. Mirandizing was one of the steps.

Scott Mason's adrenaline flowed with intensity. Did he ever have a story to tell now! An absolute scoop. He was present, coinci- dentally, during the arrest of Miles Foster.

Front page.

"I want to call my lawyer," Miles repeated.

"Make it quick," said Tyrone. Miles rapidly dialed a number from memory.

Miles turned his back on Tyrone and the others and spoke calmly into the phone.

"It's me."

Pause.

"It's me. I need a.s.sistance."

Arrogance. Pause.

"A laundry list of charges."

Disinterest. Pause.

"Had to happen, sooner or later, yeah," Miles said happily.

Pause.

"I gotta dinner party. I don't want to miss it." He smiled at Stephanie and blew a kiss. "Great. Make it quick." Miles hung up.

Miles turned to Tyrone and held his wrists out together in front of him. "Let's go," Miles said still smiling cooly.

Tyrone gently snapped the cuffs on Miles and ushered him toward the door.

"Back in an hour or so," Miles defiantly said to Scott, Sonja and Stephanie over his shoulder as the front door closed behind Miles and his escorts.

Scott watched in disbelief. Miles, the Spook, ever so calm, cool and collected. Not a fl.u.s.ter. Not a blush.

Who had he called? That was the question that bothered Scott throughout the rest of the evening.

The White House, Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

The President looked grim. The normally affable Republican had won his second term by a landslide and had maintained unprece- dented popularity. The Democrats had again been unable to con- jure up a viable candidate after another string of scandals rocked the primaries and the very foundation of the party itself Their entire platform focused on increasing the Peace Dividend beyond the aggressively reduced $180 Billion Defense budget. It was not much of an attack on a President whose popularity never fell below an astounding 65% approval, and the only ebb was due to a minor White House incident involving a junior aide, the junior aide's boyfriend and the Lincoln Bedroom.

The recession that was started by the Iraqi situation in Kuwait during the summer of 1990 was not as bad as it could have been.

The world wide militaristic fever, proper Fed Reserve response and the j.a.panese all took credit for easing the problem through their specific efforts. In fact, the recession was eased due in part to all of their efforts as well the new Europe. The Presi- dent was rewarded, ultimately, with the credit for renewing the economy almost glitch-free.

But the President was still grim. America was again at war, and only a handful of people in the upper echelons of the Government even knew about it. It would be in the paper in the morning.