RainStorm

Crawley's recent
    demise. When he did, he would come to his own conclusions.
    I saw no advantage in having him hear it from me.
    "Your NE Division has a relationship with Belghazi," I said. "Belghazi
    gives them information about other people's deals, particularly
    in the WMD trade, and in return they protect him in a variety of
    ways, including overseeing transshipments through Hong Kong."
    "Holy shit, how the hell did you learn this?"
    I shrugged. "You're telling me you didn't know?"
    "I've discovered a few things since we last spoke," he said, looking
    at me. "But I've got insider access, and you don't. Which is why
    I'm asking."
    I smiled. "Forget about how. Call it 'sources and methods.'
    What matters is what--and who."
    "Who--"
    "There's a CIA NOC, based in Hong Kong, attached to the
    CTC, formerly with NE Division. He's the connection between
    Belghazi and Crawley."
    I watched him closely, looking for a reaction. I didn't see anything.
    "You know about the NOC?" I asked.
    He nodded. "Of course."
    "All right. My guess is, he's part of the reason that Belghazi
    seems to enjoy Macau so much. Belghazi likes to handle transfers in
    Hong Kong, where the CIA can help with the heavy lifting. Macau
    is right next door."
    "You're saying it's not the gambling?"
    I shrugged. "I'm sure he loves gambling. But he also knows that
    analysts focus on things like gambling when they're creating profiles.
    He knows that, if his movements are tracked to Macau, his
    profilers will just say, 'Ah, it's the gambling,' without probing
    deeper. He's using your expectations about his known habits to obscure whatever his real purpose is. Feeding you exactly what he
    wants you to eat, knowing you've already got a taste for it."
    We were silent for a long moment, during which Kanezaki
    drummed his fingers on the table and ignored his food. Then he
    said, "You're right."
    "I know."
    He shook his head. "What I mean is, last time we met, when
    you suggested that Macau might not be a side trip for Belghazi, but
    maybe the main point, it got me thinking. I did some checking.
    Now, I told you that we've got a fix on Belghazi's sat phone. The
    units he uses are part of a low-earth-orbit network. People like the
    LEO networks because reception is clear and because the satellites'
    proximity to earth means reduced signal latency, but the networks
    are less secure."
    "Because multiple satellites are picking up the signal?"
    "Exactly. So you can always triangulate. It's not supposed to be
    possible because the signals are digitized and encrypted--it's like,
    okay, you know there's a needle in the haystack, but that's a far cry
    from actually being able to find the needle. But, trust me, if you use
    one of those phones, we can find you."
    I thought for a moment. "You said 'units.' Has Belghazi switched
    phones recently?"
    "Yeah, he has."
    "I thought he might. He must have decided that the satellite
    phone was how he got tracked to Macau. What would the NOC
    have told him?"
    "Probably to get a new phone."
    "But you're able to track him anyway?"
    He smiled. "Yeah."
    "How?"
    He shook his head. "I'm afraid that would come under the
    heading of 'sources and methods.'"
    "What, have you got the NSA listening in for a digital voice
    imprint?"
    He shook his head again. All right, I wasn't going to get the
    specifics. "Still think I'm paranoid for not using a cell phone?" I
    asked.
    He smiled. "Maybe not. Anyway, I plotted out the coordinates
    of every Asian location to which we've tracked Belghazi's phone
    calls during the last two years. What you get looks like a semi-random
    collection of dots. Except for one place."
    "Yes?"
    "Three times in the last year, Belghazi has shown up at Kwai
    Chung in Hong Kong."
    "The container port?"
    "Yeah. Always at Container Terminal Nine, the new one on
    Tsing Li island. He makes a call from inside. Always between two
    and four in the morning."
    "How's he getting in there?" I asking, thinking out loud. "It's
    got to be a secure facility."
    "I wondered the same thing. I thought, maybe he's got an accomplice
    in there, a bribed Customs guy, night watchman, something
    like that. That's why always the same terminal. I did a little research. And I found out something interesting."
    "Yes?"
    "There's an access agent. Hong Kong Chinese, lives in the New
    Territories, works at Kwai Chung. Transferred to Terminal Nine
    when it came on line in July 2003. Belghazi's first visit there was in
    August of the same year."
    "Who was the