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"We must ignore normal surgical procedures," Lugovoy patiently answered. "For obvious reasons, we cannot alter his appearance in any form."
"Who will direct the operation'?"
"Who do you think?"
"I'm asking you, comrade."
"I will."
Suvorov looked puzzled. "I've studied your file and the file of every member of the staff. I can almost repeat their contents by heart. Your field is psychology, most of the others are electronic technicians and one is a biochemist. None of you has surgical qualifications."
"Because we don't require them." He dismissed Suvorov and scrutinized the TV display again. Then he nodded. "We can begin now.
Set the laser in place."
A technician pressed his face against the rubber eyepiece of a microscope attached to an argon laser. The machine tied into a computer and displayed a set of coordinates in orange numbers across the bottom of the microscope's position fixer. When the numbers read only zeros the placement was exact.
The man at the laser nodded. "Position set."
"Commence," Lugovoy directed.
A wisp of smoke, so faint that only the laser operator could see it in the microscope, signaled the contact of the imperceptibly thin blue-green beam with the President's skull.
It was a strange scene. Everyone stood with his back to the patient, watching the monitors. The images were magnified until the beam could be seen as a weblike filament strand. With a precision far above human dexterity, the computer guided the laser in cutting a minute hole one thirtieth of a millimeter in the bone, penetrating only to the membrane covering the brain and its fluid.
Suvorov moved closer in rapt fascination, "What happens next?" he asked hoarsely.
Lugo'voy motioned him over to an electron microscope. "See for yourself."
Suvorov peered through the twin lenses. "All I make out is a dark speck."
"Adjust the focus to your eyes."
Suvorov did so and the speck became a chip-an integrated circuit.
"A microminiaturized implant that can transmit and receive brain signals. We're going to place it in his cerebral cortex, where the brain's thought processes originate."
'What does the implant use for an energy source?"
"The brain itself produces ten watts of electricity," Lugovoy explained. "The President's brainwaves can be telemetered to a control unit thousands of miles away, translated and any required commands returned. You might say it's like changing TV channels with a remote control box."
Suvorov stepped back from the microscope and stared at Lugovoy.
"The possibilities are even more overwhelming than I thought," he murmured. "We'll be able to learn every secret of the United States government."
"We'll also be able to manipulate his days and nights for as long as he lives," Lugovoy continued. "And through the computer, direct his personality so that neither he nor anyone close to him will notice."
A technician stepped behind him. "We're ready to position the implant."
He nodded. "Proceed."
A robotlike machine was moved in place of the laser. The incredibly diminutive implant was taken from under the microscope and exactingly fitted into the end of a single slim wire protruding from a mechanical arm. It was then aligned with the opening in the President's skull.
"Beginning penetration now," droned the voice of the man seated at a console.
As with the viewer on the laser, he studied a series of numbers on a display screed. The entire procedure was preprogrammed. No human hand was lifted. Led by the computer, the robot delicately eased the wire through the protective membrane into the soft folds of the brain.
After six minutes the display screen flashed, "MARK."
