ODNI, McLean, Virginia
A
re you sure about the Cambodian thing?” DNI Laird Macintosh walked to a sideboard and poured coffee for himself and the man who calls himself Bayer.
“Hell, no, I’m not sure, Director. Nothing’s ever a lock in this business. You know that. But I’m betting the Cambodians are covering for the pirates—or at least ignoring them. It’s gonna be like peeling an onion, you know? It always is with these things. We need to get our hands on a high-value individual in the pirate gang. That will give us a start on finding out who’s behind it all. We need to know who’s calling the shots, who’s providing the intel and the assets. You know and I know a bunch of raggedy-ass pirates wouldn’t be targeting oil shipments unless they had some way to siphon off the oil and someplace to
