Captain Taylor, Turn 6

"Before we discuss this, you'd better show me some ID." you say, playing for time.

"Sure." The man reaches inside his jacket and you tense slightly. He produces a wallet and hands you a plastic card. "Matthew Sanderson, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms."

"What does the ATF want with these guys?"

"Lets just say that they are operating very close to the line. We can't prove anything yet, but you might just have the angle we need."

Acting cautiously, you phone the FBI and get the ATF number from them. You end up speaking to a rather sleepy operator who confirms that Matthew Sanderson does work for the ATF, but he's not at his desk right now. "Can I take a message?" You decline. Of course, the fact he's not at his desk is easily explained...

A car goes past outside, headlights bright. You explain your contacts with Forthright, and Matthew nods. "I believe I can arrange for a time-limited chip that will fulfil the bill. It will last long enough to be interesting without it becoming too serious a security problem.

Matthew listens to your evidence about a Fourth Reich organisation based in South America and grins. "A lot of the old Nazis went there. That's what ODESSA was founded for. There are always rumours that some old bat is trying to found the Reich anew, but I wouldn't pay them much mind."

With that Matthew stands and lets himself out. You notice that he's wearing black gloves, but that's not really surprising - it is January outside.

Three days later a package arrives. A hand-written note accompanies it: "Package as requested. You can contact me on this number in an emergency 555-147-3141. Note that the package must be kept charged. More that 72 hours without power will result in irreversible damage."

A rather scary manual is stuffed into the bottom of the box; flicking through it suggest that it is a discussion of the chips interface. The chip itself looks rather like a rechargeable battery, complete with recharger

You flip through the manual for the Connors-Tyler chip, wishing you had paid more attention in your electronics classes. Fortunately, there is a sort of "executive summary" which tells you most of what you need to know. "The CT chip is best utilised in an environment where a source of power is available on a continuous basis. Under normal circumstances the chip will draw no more than 1-2 watts, though more may be required when recharging or during heavy use. The CT chip can withstand a substantial period of power down operation or storage, though this should not exceed 72 hours duration. Approximately 10 hours of recharge time is required to replenish the chip's reserves after this."

You plug the charger into the nearest socket, make some coffee and return to the manual. Much of the rest is mathematical stuff, and circuit diagrams. Both are pretty useless to you, though you do spot buzz words like "heuristic" and "neural net" in the bits about programming the thing. You finish your coffee and head for the nearest photocopier. The manual is long, upwards of three hundred pages, and you note with interest that it has a copy protection system. Your copies all have "Copy" many times on each page, forming a sort of watermark. You squint at the original and decide that it too has the watermark, but something is making the photocopier bring it to the fore. Still, the copies are still readable. You annotate them and pack the pile of paper into an envelope and address it to Ms Malcolm at the FBI Quantico training facility. Leaving the office you step into the teeth of a New York storm. Careful to make sure you are not followed, you drop the anonymous package into the third or fourth mailbox you come to.

The offices of the Review are empty. Hames is off at some conference, and you are the only regular employee. You plug your baby into the nearest socket and call Forthright Data. After negotiating the dangers of the horribly cheerful receptionist and Vivaldi's Four Seasons you find yourself talking to the same guy as last time - Henry Larsen. You explain that you have the "merchandise" he requested and arrange suggest that you met at the companies offices. Henry replies that, as luck would have it, he and a colleague are attending a seminar in New York, and why don't you meet them at their hotel tomorrow? You agree. Shortly afterwards the Fax whirrs into action with details of hotel, room and appointment time.

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