The Blasphemer by John Ling

gently.’
    ‘Define gently.’
    ‘Do it in a way that puts him at ease. Makes him feel as if he isn’t being pushed. Use your judgement.’
    ‘In other words, allow him to emerge from his shell in his own time.’
    ‘Correct. Now, about the book tour. Do you have a fixed itinerary yet?’
    ‘Are you sitting down?’
    Deirdre frowned. ‘I am. Why?’
    ‘Because you’re not going to like this. Khan is bringing the book tour forward. He’s starting tomorrow.’
    ‘Tomorrow?’ Deirdre’s jaw tensed, and she felt as if the room has just tilted. ‘Tomorrow?’
    ‘Yeah, a full week ahead of schedule.’
    ‘Good God. Please tell me you’ve tried talking him out of it.’
    ‘He’s stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t sway him.’
    ‘Maya, we are not equipped to see this through. Our original timetable is to protect Khan only until the economic summit is over and done with. Then we hand him over to the DPS. But switching things around like this is barely workable.’
    ‘I’ll make it work.’
    ‘With just four operators?’
    ‘Five if you include Gabrielle.’
     ‘Which you’ll have to keep on a tight leash.’
    ‘Mm-hm. It is what it is.’
    Deirdre hesitated, rubbing her forehead. ‘Very well. I’ll retask a surveillance drone to take up a holding pattern above the hotel. Provide you with some overhead support.’
    ‘Thank you. And how’s our threat assessment looking? Is anything pinging our radar yet?’
    ‘Let’s see...’
    Slipping her glasses back on, Deirdre tapped her computer.
    Individual feeds from her analysts’ workstations appeared on her screen. Flicking her finger, Deirdre cycled through each window individually and observed the analysts trawling through all kinds of electronic traffic—phone, text, fax, email, instant chat, weblogs, internet forums.
    Section One had a direct link to the servers at the Government Communications Security Bureau.  And the Bureau, in turn, was linked to Echelon, the global signals-intelligence network operated by the United States, Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand.
    It was the ultimate Big Brother system; a massive digital sponge soaking up everything and anything. During the Cold War, it had eavesdropped on the Soviet Union and stolen its secrets. But post-9/11, its function had shifted to predicting and averting attacks by al-Qaeda and other terror groups.
    So far, Echelon’s track record in its new role was spotty.
    The tidal wave of data constantly rolling in meant that analysts were reduced to sifting through mountains of rubbish. Trying to pinpoint microscopic nuggets. Stringing them together to create workable intelligence.
     The maddening part about the process was figuring out what was relevant and what wasn’t. Yes, Echelon had been programmed to zero in on keywords like ‘bomb’ or ‘assassination’ or ‘nuke’. But mostly, they led to dead-ends. Just people talking crap for the sake of talking crap.
    After a while, everything became a kaleidoscopic blur. Leaving analysts no choice but to take hourly breaks. To preserve their minds from sputtering and choking and seizing up.
    Today happened to be one of those tedious days.
    Deirdre sighed. ‘It’s information overload. Terabytes upon terabytes of chatter about Abraham Khan. Nothing substantial. You know how it is.’
    ‘He’s the flavour of the moment,’ Maya said. ‘There’s going to be more junk floating about than usual.’
    ‘The analysts are trying to get an automated algorithm up and running that will sort through the references better. Trouble is, it’s not moving quick enough.’
    ‘It never is. Well, give me a buzz if anything pops up.’
    ‘Oh, I will. None of us will be going home for a while.’
    ‘No rest for the weary. Goodbye, Mama.’
    ‘Bye, Maya.’
    Deirdre hit the button on her Bluetooth earpiece to disconnect. She pushed her chair back and stretched her legs. Yes, that went well. Surprisingly well. At least she still had a