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question, doubt and scrutinise his strategy. Bill held his own corner strongly, got his own way but the arguments did wear the mind down to a low level. Time to go home.
    "Masson, what is it?" Maverack sounded like a man anxious for some peace and quiet.
    "Priority one message sir from Great Britain, it's a POINT-K."
    "Procedure."
    "To the letter sir," Masson said as he handed over a single sheet of paper.
    The standing instructions for receipt of POINT-K messages were that a single printout was made then the electronic message was deleted permanently from the server.
    The paper copy was taken immediately to the Director of NCS no matter the time of day. If there was a reply, it would be transmitted then the message would be permanently removed from the server.
    Neither Bill Maverack nor Josh Masson knew what POINT-K was or the significance of the message. Bill Maverack took possession of the paper and a flash of anger surfaced on his face. He reviled the fact his office was being used as a simple messenger for some Agency or Department of Defence business. His anger soared.
    "Return to your desk Masson. If there's a reply I'll bring it."
    "Yes sir."
    I've had enough . This nonsense ends now he thought. He read the message then spoke into his office intercom.
    "Janice, call the Joint Chief's office. Request the Chairman call me back on a secure line. If they give you any bullshit. Tell them I have a priority one communication for the Chairman."
    Bill Maverack sat back in his chair and his feet lifted off the ground as he re-read the message. He was five foot five inches tall and working hard to keep his weight under seventy-four kg. He put two fingers to the bridge of his nose and rubbed the skin between his eyebrows as he searched the message for anything that might offer a clue.
    Educated at Yale he wore a light blue short-sleeved shirt, Yale University silk tie and dark brown suit trousers with matching shoes. His hair was crew cut short. He was well presented but no one other than his mother would say he was handsome.
    What he lacked in good looks he more than made up for in ruthlessness, determination and guile. He hadn't gotten to Director Level in the CIA while still in his early forties without knocking some experienced and capable people off the ladder.
    Eighteen minutes later Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) George Schumantle returned the call. Bill Maverack looked at the row of clocks on his wall. Local time was twenty-two forty-two hours.
    "Bill, good evening."
    "Sorry for the late call General. I have a priority one message marked for attention ONLY of POINT-K," Bill said and his voice didn't disguise his annoyance.
    "Who is it from?"
    "Agent Dovecoat."
    "Read it out please."
    "Message reads. PR 1: FAOO - POINT-K: Subject: Tucuxi. Report: Subject relocation imminent. Plus one lens package STAT. End. Dovecoat."
    "Thanks for that Bill, no reply. Can we meet tomorrow first thing to organise this package?"
    "Of course. I'll have my secretary liaise with your office."
    Bill Maverack felt elated. With a satisfying smirk he wondered if, at last, he was going to find out what POINT-K was and who was involved. It was clear from the log of long standing protocols that POINT-K had been in operation for more than fifty years.
    When it first came to his attention fourteen months ago he was dismayed that he was denied access. He quizzed others and was certain that none of the other Office Directors knew anything about it. He felt confident that neither the Associate Deputy Director CIA nor the Deputy Director CIA had ever heard of POINT-K.
    Bill Maverack had raised POINT-K with the Director CIA and voiced his concern that there was a clandestine operation in play in Great Britain that he knew nothing about. He demanded permission to do some digging but the Director CIA told him to leave well alone. Whatever POINT-K was it had remained one of the USA's most closely guarded secrets.
    To be in existence for more than