Free Borderless Deceit by Adrian de Hoog Page A

procedures for transferring information in a place where the transaction couldn’t be observed. What was my opinion?
    I thought about it. Then on the spur of the moment, given the weather, I mischievously suggested a spot outside the city. “Send a cross-country skier. I’ll meet him in the Gatineaus. There’s a place called Herridge Cabin. Saturday. Say, at noon?”
    â€œCahsun!…That rules me out! Snow ’n me, we doan get along.”
    â€œSend a strong skier. It’s a good run. Give him a blue backpack with a red Maple Leaf stitched on. We’ll switch bags there. Dead simple.”
    This was quickly agreed and I began to look forward to the skulduggery, as well as to being out on the fresh snow. Each time I’m in the hills across the river I relive the day I skied there with Rachel. Gliding through the forest I recite the words she spoke to me, as if they are an inner book of psalms.
    But that reverie would play out on Saturday, whereas the trance today, induced by Heywood, was ending. The watchers showed relief. They were exhausted. No one had expected so much pompousness.
    â€œAnything you want to add, Jaime?” the Czar asked.
    With a slight shake of her head she declined.
    â€œNo inspirational words? Nothing about how much fun it will be to go snowplowing together?” Jaime still didn’t bite. The Czar then brought his palms together, bowed and expressed thanks.
    The pair departed as they came: Heywood, wide-legged, his abdomen leading, Jaime, light of foot, with the coiled energy of a spring in every step. The struggling geraniums, the untidy cabinets, the stained office carpet waved them goodbye. The sliding doors opened. The sliding doors shut.
    The watchers immediately struck up a loud post-mortem which I declined to join.

5 CHAPTER FIVE
    â€œGuess we got ’em pumped up,” the Czar concluded, lumbering to the elevator with Jaime.
    â€œNot sure. Not much goodness in those faces. One guy at the back was a total crab. I think he hated us.”
    â€œThe tall one in the corner?”
    â€œPretty tall. Big shoulders.”
    â€œCarson Pryce. Hah! There’s a few who’d like to knock him off his high horse.”
    At the elevator Jaime pushed a button. When it arrived, passengers shuffled to the cabin side and the Czar cramped in. On the ground floor, squeezing out, he said, “Your new digs coming along, Jaime? Shall we take a peek?” The previous day the Czar had ordered an extensive computer chamber to be installed for Jaime overnight.
    As they ambled back to Operations Tower, Jaime asked, “Know him well?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe tall dude.”
    â€œCarson? Oh yeah.”
    â€œWhat’s his problem?” When Heywood took his time, Jaime pressed. “It looked as if his bowels were in an uproar.”
    â€œI’ll tell you his problem. He’s smart, but it’s gone to his head. You, me, everyone…he believes we’re a lower breed. He finds ways tolet you know he thinks that.”
    Jaime and the Czar were passing beneath the canopy of flags of all the countries of the United Nations hanging down from the foyer ceiling high up. Around them, visitors to the Service complex were stamping snow off outer boots, shaking hats clean and unwrapping thick parkas, showing that miraculously bright and living things could emerge from the drab cocoons entering the building. Outside, the temperature was dropping; the wind was picking up; white swirls howled up the walls and spilled out over the roof like packs of snarling dogs. A haunting scene. Nature deranged.
    Heywood stopped. “Look at this, Jaime,” he said with wonder. “People earn a living in weather like this. When I grew up…chain saws in the forest…the distant clattering…all winter long…loggers coming out at the end of the day…icicles hanging from their beards…hard work…making an honest