Tanaka's reply was brief and to the point. A man of few words: Confirmed.
"Whatever's going on, we've got to get over there." I hit the speakerphone line again. "Artie, keep them jammed till five oh five. That should do it. If we're not in by then, we're dead."
"You got it, boss," came back the voice. "Any longer, some gov'ment honkie's gonna put on a trace. Be our ass. Correction, yo' ass."
"Just pack up your gear and haul out of there. The FCC's the least of our problems at the moment."
"You the man. Down again soon?"
"Can't rule it out. Take care." I punched off the phone.
Tam was already headed for the door. Downstairs waited the car and driver we'd hired. No point trying to hail a cab in rush hour, particularly with so much depending on the next thirty minutes.
"Okay, Bill, keep that Shearson link up. Maybe it'll block anybody else from reaching DNI's message center." I was putting on my coat. "Where's that package?"
"Right here." He reached behind the bar and retrieved the one item I wanted with me when we confronted security. It was nicely wrapped in brown paper. "Look out for yourself, Walton. I got a few good drinkin' years left. Be a shame to have to do it all by myself."
"Your guy ready?"