PREVIOUS
TOP SECRET CLEARANCE HAS BEEN
CONFIRMED. THE NAMES ARE +
STONE, JEREMY
81
LEAVITT, PETER
04
BARTON, CHARLES
51
CHRISTIANSENKRIKECANCEL THIS LINE CANCEL THIS LINE CAN
TO READ AS
KIRKE, CHRISTIAN
142
HALL, MARK
l77
ACCORD THESE MEN ZED KAPPA
STATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
END MESSAGE END MESSAGE
In theory, this cable was also quite routine; its purpose was to name the five members who were being given Zed Kappa status, the code for “OK” status. Unfortunately, however, the machine misprinted one of the names, and failed to reread the entire message. (Normally, when one of the printout units of a secret trunk line miswrote part of a message, the entire message was rewritten, or else it was reread by the computer to certify its corrected form.)
The message was thus open to doubt. In Washington and elsewhere, a computer expert was called in to confirm the accuracy of the message, by what is called “reverse tracing.” The Washington expert expressed grave concern about the validity of the message since the machine was printing out other minor mistakes, such as “L” when it meant “I.”
The upshot of all this was that the first two names on the list were accorded status, while the rest were not, pending confirmation.
Allison Stone was tired. At her home in the hills overlooking the Stanford campus, she and her husband, the chairman of the Stanford bacteriology department, had held a party for fifteen couples, and everyone had stayed late. Mrs. Stone was annoyed: she had been raised in official Washington, where one’s second cup of coffee, offered pointedly without cognac, was accepted as a signal to go home. Unfortunately, she thought, academics did not follow the rules. She had served the second cup of coffee hours ago, and everybody was still there.
Shortly before one a.m., the doorbell rang. Answering it, she was surprised to see two military men standing side by side in the night. They seemed awkward and nervous to her, and she assumed they were lost; people often got lost driving through these residential areas at night.
“May I help you?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” one said politely. “But is this the residence of Dr. Jeremy Stone?”
“Yes,” she said, frowning slightly. “It is.”
She looked beyond the two men, to the driveway. A blue military sedan was parked there. Another man was standing by the car; he seemed to be holding something in his hand.
“Does that man have a gun?” she said.
“Ma’am,” the man said, “we must see Dr. Stone at once, please.”
It all seemed strange to her, and she found herself frightened. She looked across the lawn and saw a fourth man, moving up to the house and looking into the window. In the pale light streaming out onto the lawn, she could distinctly see the rifle in his hands.
“What’s going on?”
“Ma’am, we don’t want to disturb your party. Please call Dr. Stone to the door.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Otherwise, we will have to go get him,” the man said.
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Wait here.”
She stepped back and started to close the door, but one man had already slipped into the hall. He stood near the door, erect and very polite, with his hat in his hand. “I’ll just wait here, ma’am,” he said, and smiled at her.
She walked back to the party, trying to show nothing to the guests. Everyone was still talking and laughing; the room was noisy and dense with smoke. She found Jeremy in a corner, in the midst of some argument about riots. She touched his shoulder, and he disengaged himself from the group.
“I know this sounds funny,” she said, “but there is some kind of Army man in the hall, and another outside, and two others with guns out on the lawn. They say they want to see you.”
For a moment, Stone looked surprised, and then he nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. His attitude annoyed her; he seemed almost to be expecting it.
“Well, if you knew