Jack Ryan Post-Clancy 07 - Point of Contact by Mike Maden

Author:Mike Maden [Maden, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780735215863
Published: 2017-06-13T00:00:00+00:00

Paul stretched his flabby arms high and wide and yawned like a bear coming out of hibernation. “Man, I’m tired.”

“You want some tea, maybe?”

“Oh, wow. That would be great. Something sweet, too, if you can find it.”

Bai nodded. “Be right back.”

“Thanks, Bai.”

Paul turned back to his laptop, pretending to be focused on the screen but desperately trying to keep Bai in his peripheral vision, waiting for him to turn the corner into the kitchen and—

Hurry!

Paul whipped his fingers across the mouse pad and keyboard, opening the CIA file and dragging the contents over to the Dalfan USB to copy them. The progress bar popped up. Two minutes and counting. Just like last night.

It would take Bai at least that long to brew a cup of hot tea and find a pastry or something, and another thirty seconds for him to walk back to the office.

Unless the hot water machine was broken and the pastry box was empty.

A minute passed, then ninety seconds. Thirty seconds to go.

“Hope you like doughnuts, Mr. Brown.”

Paul nearly jumped out of his skin. He swiveled around in his chair, using his wide body to block the screen from Bai, who stood in front of him, smiling and holding out a cup of tea and a chocolate doughnut with brightly colored sprinkles.

Paul forced a wide smile. “Outstanding, sir. Thank you.”

Bai frowned, lifted his chin, trying to see over Paul’s shoulder.

“Something wrong, Bai?”

“What’s on your—”

“OW!” Paul jumped out of his chair, his pants drenched.

“What’s wrong?”

“I spilled hot tea on my trousers! Quick, get me some paper towels! Please.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Be right back!” Bai scurried out the door.

Paul spun around to face the computer. His scalded thighs screamed with pain, but he ignored it. He set the half-empty cup down with his left hand and shook it off, then jammed the doughnut into his mouth with his right as he checked his screen.

The USB message read INSUFFICIENT STORAGE CAPACITY .

“Thit,” Paul breathed through his doughnut. His fingers flew again. The USB drive only had one gig of storage. He heard Bai’s softly padding feet running toward the door.

“Thit!” Paul trashed the CIA file just as Bai yanked the door open, wads of paper towels from the men’s restroom balled up in his fists.

“Here, Mr. Brown!”

Paul turned around, the doughnut still in his mouth. He pulled it out. “Thanks.” He took a bite of doughnut and started blotting the hot tea from his trousers. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Bai cast a glance at his empty laptop screen.

“Anything else, Mr. Brown?”

“No, thanks. This should do the trick. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble, Mr. Brown. More tea?”

“Eh, no, thanks. I think I’ve worn enough tea this morning.”

“Yeah, lah .”

Paul was glad he’d dodged a bullet, but his plan was shot to hell.

How in the heck am I going to get around Dalfan security now?

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