But even in its present limited capacity, it would tell him if the Stalwart’s crew members were among the thousands who were indicted for an illegal offense or had been the subject of a criminal complaint or gotten into some sort of documented trouble with the United States armed forces in the last seven years or so. The excluded records held by nonparticipating agencies left a sizable info gap. But overall, it was a productive use of the data masher. Sometimes it wasn’t what you found out, it was what you eliminated.

Musil wasn’t looking for anything specific right now. He wasn’t necessarily thinking anything would come of his search. He was casting the widest electronic net at his disposal and seeing if it pulled anything in. It was a logical starting point.

After a few minutes, he looked at his computer screen. The progress indicator in its top right corner said the search was eighty percent complete. Waiting, he thought back to the previous day’s visit to CloudCable. Olsen’s stonewalling had made it largely a waste of time. Until Kali asked her question, and it wasn’t a waste of time at all.

“Did you speak about this to anyone else?”

“Such as?”

“The CIA. The other agencies. Did you speak to any of them before we came this morning?”

“They’re our partners. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

Musil replayed the exchange in his mind. He could see and hear it all. Olsen’s immediate qualifying question and defensive body language. How he’d sat up straight at her follow-through, locked his hands together on the desk and tacitly admitted he’d been in contact with the CIA and possibly the rest. Olsen might as well have stated it outright.

Musil checked his computer screen again. The progress bar was at eighty-four percent. He wondered what the intel agencies were all hiding. When it came to the CIA and Geos, secrecy was an ingrained reflex, and it was hardly surprising they had declined invitations from Director Michaels to share their resources on LATTICE. Not that Musil necessarily thought they or CloudCable knew what happened to the Stalwart. But he had a feeling they knew something.

A few more seconds passed. The search was ninety-eight percent complete. Musil waited. Then his computer beeped, and he sat up straight. LATTICE had scored a match.

He moved to the edge of his chair and looked hard at the screen, reading all the relevant data over twice. Then he quickly reached for his desk phone.

“Ki,” Musil said into the receiver. “Jot here. I need you to do something for me.”