The Falcon and the Snowman Page #2

Conceived by the Defense Department,

manufactured and maintained by RTX,

and used primarily by a company

you may have heard of

-in Langley, Virginia.

-Central Intelligence.

Circling the earth with their cameras,

heat sensors, microwave antennas,

they've significantly lightened

the workload of human spies.

When Brezhnev chats with his mistress

over his supposedly clean phone,

the birds listen in.

When he walks his dog in the park,

the birds take a picture of it

pissing on the shrubbery.

When he tests his latest warhead

underground somewhere in Siberia

and claims he hasn't,

the birds know he's lying.

You'll be working

in the system's nerve center.

A communications vault linking RTX

and our associates in Virginia

with tracking stations

all around the world.

Alaska, Guam, Iceland, Australia,

to name a few.

You'll be dealing with correspondence

that relates to the activities

of the satellites.

Correspondence that you will find

designated top secret.

It's protected by sophisticated

cryptographic equipment

developed by

the National Security Agency.

You're not to discuss

any aspect of your job

with non-cleared RTX employees.

This is as far as I can go.

Not with your girlfriend.

Not with your parents.

Not with your dog.

Not in the men's room, not over lunch.

Not in your sleep. Nowhere.

Are we clear so far?

Miss.

I'm not the secretary.

There is no secretary.

I think somebody might've made

a mistake. Is this the black vault?

No, but you're getting warm.

The vault's over there.

-F***!

-Excuse me.

-Mr. Norman?

-Who the hell are you?

Boyce. Supposed to start working here.

Who says you're supposed

to start working here exactly?

Well, I was briefed by Larry Rogers.

He didn't tell you?

You were supposed to show me

how to work the machines, I guess.

Larry, this is Gene. I got this kid,

supposed to be working here?

Don't get excited, Gene. I sent him over.

Sure, but nobody tells me anything.

-I'm telling you now.

-Yeah, OK. Yeah.

-We're working together.

-Yeah.

Well, you didn't tell me that, did you?

I thought maybe I was...

-So, you want a margarita?

-Pardon me?

You want a margarita?

That'll be your desk over there...

What was your name?

-Chris.

-Gene.

-Gene.

-You're gonna love it here, Chris.

Nobody can mess with you here.

Nobody's got clearance to get in.

Not even Security.

Can you turn that thing off for me?

Giving me a f***in' headache!

Thanks.

Yeah! Just the three of us.

You and me and Laurie.

-Hi, Laurie.

-Hi.

-Want a margarita?

-No. Maybe later.

Good. There's not enough anyway.

Ran out of salt. Cheers.

I'm surrounded by junkie partners who

turn me in the minute they get in trouble.

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