" Gideon's face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. "I'm not touching that one, Eva." "Okay. You want to figure out what it's going to take to get me into bed. Is that why you're here in this club right now? Because of me? And don't say what you think I want to hear." His gaze was clear and steady. "I'm here for you, yes. I arranged it." Suddenly the threads the street hawker had been wearing made sense. We'd been hustled by someone on Cross Industries's payroll. "Did you figure that getting me here would get you laid?" His mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "There's always the hope, but I expected it would take more work than a chance meeting over drinks." "You're right. So why do it? Why not wait until Monday lunch?" "Because you're out trolling. I can't do anything about B.O.B., but I can stop you from picking up some asshole in a bar. You want to score, Eva, I'm right here."
Japan did not then comply with Germany's wishes. The intricate mechanism of the American cryptanalytic effort pumped MAGIC to its eager recipients smoothly, speedily, and lavishly. Messages flew back and forth along the monitor channels as if along nerve cells. Intercepts poured into Washington with less and less of a time lag. S.I.S. and GY grew increasingly adept at solution; the translators picked out the important messages ever more surely. Bratton and Kramer hustled from place to place with their locked briefcases. MAGIC gushed forth in profusion. So effectively did the cryptanalytic agencies perform that Marshall could say of this "priceless asset," this most complete and up- to-the-minute intelligence that any nation had ever had concerning a probable enemy, this necromantic gift of the gods of which one could apparently never have enough, that "There was too much of it." 2. One Day of Magic: II
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