rnubic3rx2's Journal

@@@@@I want pro input here, Alex, not emotional
@@@@@I want pro input here, Alex, not emotional output
Is that clear?”
“I don’t operate any other way, PeterA commitment may be based on emotions and there’s
nothing wrong with that, but the execution of a strategy is ice-coldI was never in the SEALs,
you hard-nosed son of a bitch, but I’m also geographically here, limp and all, and that presumes
I’m also competent
Holland grinned; it was a smile of youth belied by streaked gray hair, the grin of a professional
momentarily freed of executive concerns so as to return to the world he knew best“We may even
get along,” said the DCIAnd then, as if to drop the last vestige of his directorial image, he placed
his pipe on the table, reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, popped one up to his mouth
and snapped his lighter as he began to write on the legal pad“To hell with the Bureau,” he
continued“We’ll use only our men and we’ll check every one out under a fast microscope
Charles Casset, the lean, bright heir apparent of the CIA’s directorship, sat back in his chair and
sighed“Why do I have the idea that I’m going to have to ride herd on both you gentlemen?”
“Because you’re an analyst at heart, Charlie,” answered Holland
The object of controlled surveillance is to expose those who shadow others so as to establish
their identities or take them into custody, whichever suits the strategyThe aim in the present case
was to trap the agents of the Jackal who had lured Conklin and Panov to the amusement park in
BaltimoreWorking through the night and most of the following day, the men of the Central
Intelligence Agency formed a detail of eight experienced field personnel, defined and redefined the
specific routes that Conklin and Panov were to take both individually and together for the next
twenty-four hours—these routes covered by the armed professionals in swift progressive relays—
and finally to design an irresistible rendezvous, unique in terms of time and locationThe early
morning hours at the Smithsonian InstitutionIt was the Dionaea muscipula, the Venus flytrap
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
25
Conklin stood in the narrow, dimly lit lobby of his apartment house and looked at his watch,
squinting to read the dialIt was precisely 2:35 in the morning; he opened the heavy door and
limped out into the dark street, which was devoid of any signs of lifeAccording to their plan he
turned left, maintaining the pace agreed upon; he was to arrive at the comer as close to 2:38 as
possibleSuddenly, he was alarmed; in a shadowed doorway on his right was the figure of a man
Unobtrusively Alex reached under his jacket for his Beretta automaticThere was nothing in the
strategy that called for someone to be in a doorway on this section of the street! Then, as suddenly
as he had been alarmed, he relaxed, feeling equal parts of guilt and relief at what he understood
The figure in shadows was an indigent, an old man in worn-out clothes, one of the homeless in a
land of so much plentyAlex kept going; he reached the corner and heard the low, single click of
two fingers snapped apartHe crossed the avenue and proceeded down the pavement, passing an
alle