"We had these terrifically advanced products meant to defend our country and they didn't work. So, we had to tell the engineers what was wrong so they could figure it out. Our own engineers and I got involved more times than we liked because the response time from the contractors was for shit. They didn't care any more. Since we hadn't designed it, we only saw the pieces that were on the fritz, we had symptoms and had to figure out what they meant in order to diagnose the failure so we could get the designers to come up with a fix. The point is, we only had shreds of evidence, little bits of technical information from which to try to understand the complete system. That's exactly what's going on here." "So?" Doug said dead panned. "So," Scott avoided getting incensed. "You're damn lucky you have me around. I see a pattern, a trail, that leads I don't know where, but I have to follow the trail. That's my job." "What has Europe got to do with it?" Doug was softening. "Oops, thanks! I almost forgot." Scott felt stupid for a second, but he was without notes, he rationalized. "Kirk is my hacker contact who I've been talking to over my computer. Gives me real good stuff. He says there's a conference of hackers in Amsterdam next week. It's a real private affair, and he got me an invite. I think, no I know, there's something bigger going down; somehow all of these pieces tie together and I need to find out how." "That's it?" Scott looked disappointed at Doug's reaction. "No, that's not it! You know that the Expos has been publishing bits and pieces of the same stuff we haven't been publishing?" Scott didn't know which of his arguments made the case, but Doug certainly reacted to the competitive threat. "How much?" "How much what?" Scott wasn't ready for the question. "For Europe? How much play money will you need. You know I have to sell this upstairs and they . . ." "Airfare and a couple of nights plus food. That's it. If you want," Scott readied the trump card he had never used at the Times. "I'll pay for it myself, and submit it all when I come back. Then, you make the call. I'll trust you." "You really think it's that important?" Doug said. "Absolutely. No question. Something's going on that smells rotten, bad, and it includes the Government, but I have no idea how." Scott spoke as if he was on a soapbox. He had shot his wad. That was it. Anything more was a rehash of the same stuff and it would have been worthless to say more. He shut up and waited for Doug who enjoyed making his better reporters anxious with anticipation. "Have a good trip," Doug said nonchalantly. He leaned forward to hunch over his desk, and ignoring Scott, he went back to redlining another writer's story. * * * * * Tuesday, December 15 Scarsdale, New York