do. I don’t take on a job until I have a line on all the parties involved. I’ve never dealt with Gladding before, but I’ve checked him out and I know his rep for playing all sides of the street when it comes to his arms deals—including acting as a cutout for you guys,” Hannah added. When Towle began to demur, she waved away his objection. “Or the CIA or whoever. The point is, our government has made use of him in the past, from what I gather. I also know that high-end art is sometimes used as collateral in Gladding’s business, but the piece I’m transporting is hardly in that league. He’s paying more for it than I would, even if I had his money, but it’s not the kind of high-prestige art your criminal class usually goes for.”
“Do you have the painting here?” Towle asked.
She nodded. “Do you want to see it?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She went into the bedroom, withdrew the portfolio from behind her bureau and took it back into the other room, trying not to think too much about the figure she cut in bare feet and cartoon PJs. So much for her professional reputation. She unzipped the case and pulled out the two-by-three painting. The agents seem taken aback.
“Looks like one of my dad’s old ties—after he spilled chili on it,” Towle said.
Ito nodded. “That is one butt-ugly painting.”
The feds moved up a notch in Hannah’s estimation. Towle made a cursory search of the painting and frame, much as she herself had done, while Ito examined the leather portfolio, not failing to miss the spot where she’d slit the lining to take a closer look at the padding.
“As you can see, just a painting,” she said. “Since you guys are obviously way ahead of me here, want to tell me what this is really about?”
They glanced at each other, then Towle answered. “We’d like you to do a small favor for us while you’re down in Mexico.”
“I didn’t realize we were on such intimate terms.”
“We’re talking about performing a service for your country. A contribution to national security.”
Always the war-on-terror angle, Hannah thought.
“We imagine you’re going to find yourself inside Gladding’s home in Puerto Vallarta,” Ito said. “While you’re there, we’d like you to see if you can leave a couple of calling cards behind.”
“Calling cards?” And then it dawned on her. “Oh, man, you want me to plant bugs in his house?”
“Surveillance devices, yes,” Ito said. He picked up the briefcase by his feet, set it on the coffee table and rolled the tumblers. He snapped the locks but left the lid shut, looking up expectantly.
“Why do you want his house bugged?” Hannah asked.
“No specific reason.” From the way Towle’s blue-gray eyes shifted, Hannah suspected there was a very specific reason. “Let’s just say that whatever services Mr. Gladding may have performed for our side in the past, of late he’s dealing with people to whom Washington would prefer not to be linked.”
“We and some of our sister agencies have been looking for an opportunity to get close for a while,” Ito added. “It’s just serendipity that you happen to have timely access. You can get in without arousing suspicion and slide the devices in with no one the wiser.”
Ito lifted the lid on the briefcase and withdrew a couple of electronic devices about the size of a dime. “Nothing here you haven’t seen before, I’m sure. These two are voice activated with a transmission range of almost half a mile, so our people can park listening posts well outside his property in areas that won’t arouse suspicion. Dormant unless activated, with power packs that last for months. These ones,” he added, lifting out a couple of small tubes, “are motion-activated cameras. Same kind of range and power pack. If you can plant any of them unobtrusively in his office and anywhere else that looks promising, it would be a real boon to our efforts.”
Hannah picked up one of the devices and turned it over in her hand. “This is the best you’ve got? I thought you guys were a little more advanced than this. Are these even shielded?”
“They’ll resist some sensors. Not all, but that’s the point. An operator like Gladding is programmed to assume that he’s susceptible to bugging. We let him find some and he figures he’s outsmarted us.”
“Even assuming I have access or the time to plant anything, what makes you think he won’t find them all?”
“He might,” Towle said.
“So what’s the point?”
Towle looked over at Ito. “Show her the clincher.”
Ito pulled out a small case and opened it. Inside was a matte rectangle, maybe half-by-a-quarter-inch in size, tops. Ito peeled it out of the case. It was paper-thin and virtually transparent. “What we’d really love is for you to try to attach this to Gladding’s laptop. We know he keeps it on his desk, so if you can get a minute alone—”
“What is it?” Hannah asked.
“A keystroke logger. Gladding communicates primarily via e-mail and he sends out all his business info over an encrypted network. This device will record not only the encryption key, but every strike on the keypad. Unlike those other toys, this one’s almost impossible to detect with standard sweeping equipment. It attaches with an adhesive—just peel it like a bandage. In a pinch, you could stick it almost anywhere on the laptop and it probably wouldn’t be noticed, but I’d suggest opening the CD drive and sticking it under the tray.”
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