Chapter 8
BIG SNOOP/LITTLE SNOOPTension existed elsewhere, in this case in an air conditioned underground bunker office in the American state of Maryland. It afflicted a senior staffer with decades experience in the U. S. intelligence community. A woman, work name Cyd Watkins, outfitted in a sequined Saks Fifth Avenue evening gown, glanced at the wall clocks ahead. The head of the ad hoc 24/7 Watchers surveillance group, breathless from rushing to her post, noted the five-hour time difference between Washington D. C. and London. Then focused, worried, on a red light blinking on a wide, flat panel screen on the stainless steel desk of a young man with the buzz-cut and posture of a soldier. And with each puzzling red blink, muttering audible oaths of alarm. "How long those two been parked t
