Free One Last Scent of Jasmine (Boone's File Book 3) by Dale Amidei Page A

through what authority and by which means, the information to which I am privy does not disclose.
    “I can tell you the system involves an airborne platform of great capability, involving the deployment of directed-energy systems. In my opinion, placing such technology in the hands of my country’s current leadership might well serve to bring about precisely the opposite effect anticipated, and serve to destabilize the status quo among the nations in the region.
    “I understand also this transfer of technology, though it has not yet taken place, is expected in the near future. Certainly it is to occur within days if not hours. I dare not approach your government via any means, as it appears these actions, however inappropriate, are officially sanctioned at some level within your Executive Branch.
    “I am afraid I have nothing beyond this information to add. I trust to your resources, my friend, and your good sense and patriotism in this matter.”
    The message was unsigned as there was no need. McAllen sat back, his mug for the moment serving only to warm his hands. Sonsabitches. I remember when the other side was the only one an old boy like me needed to worry about.
    McAllen found himself amazed, if not actually surprised, at what was tantamount to sanctioned espionage by a rogue branch of the United States government. They came into office promising change. The last four years might be the most a politician has ever done to keep his goddamned word.
    The oath McAllen had taken on his commissioning as a Second Lieutenant so many years ago was never altered or revoked, nor was it one from which any superior had released him following his retirement: I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God!
    Besides taking it himself, he had over the years attended many others who did the same. It was not surprising the General could still recite the attestation from memory. I guess there was a good reason for Congress ordering the priorities of loyalty the way they did.
    By planting the medicine ball in McAllen’s court, Lyubov had done as much as he was able. The question for the General now was just what he himself could do, and consideration required another sip of his home brew.
    I ain’t gonna have any more luck taking this through channels than Dmitry would, with the exception of it being marginally less likely to get me killed. Nevertheless, the situation begged for action to be taken as Dmitry Gennadyevich had warned there were hours—or at the most days—remaining. At least, before anything anyone could have done really doesn’t amount to a hill of shit anymore.
    McAllen had always valued the efficiency of direct communication. If the other side—whoever they were—wanted to play in the shadows, then he would pass this one along to those who operated best in the dark. In the United States government, one man sat atop its heap of spooks, and McAllen had the same level of access to Terrence Bain Bradley’s InterLynk account as he did to any other.
    It would not be long before Bernie Schuster came over for the morning briefing. McAllen spent the remaining minutes paraphrasing Lyubov’s infonugget for Bradley's consumption. Handled properly, the verbiage of the General's outgoing message would provide few clues identifying the originator. McAllen sent it off just as he heard Bernie coming down the hall. The line item disappeared from his daily stack, moving into his private store with the flick of the mouse. No need for me to share this with Bern, Dmitry. This infonugget is just between you, me and ODNI.

 
     
    McLean, Virginia
    Six hours behind Geneva
     
    “Terry, your phone is