Polar Shift by Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos

my touch," Malloy said dolefully. "Either that or I've still got cop written all over me."
    "Naw, I cheated," Barnes said with a grin. "They told me at the MACC that you'd be here."
    MACC was shorthand for the Multi-Agency Control Center, the entity in charge of security for the international economic conference that was being held in New York City. Political and business leaders were converging on the Big Apple from all over the world.
    "I cheated too," Malloy said with a chuckle. "MACC called and said you were coming over." He studied the reporter's face and decided he looked familiar. "We met before, Mr. Barnes?"
    "I think you gave me a jaywalking ticket."
    Malloy laughed. He never forgot a face. It would come to him. "What can I do for you?"
    "I'm doing a story on the conference. I've heard you're the top consultant in the field when it comes to dealing with sophisticated techniques of disruption. I wondered if I could interview you about how you plan to deal with the planned protests."
    Malloy owned a firm in Arlington, Virginia, that advised police departments around the country on crowd control. He was on the boards of a number of companies that made riot-control equipment, and his business and political connections had made him relatively rich. A favorable story in The New York Times could mean even bigger bucks for his consulting business.
    "Slide in," he said and reached over to open the passenger door. Barnes got in the car, and they shook hands. The reporter shoved his sunglasses onto his forehead, revealing intense green eyes and sharply angled eyebrows that formed a V similar to the shape of his mouth and chin. He pulled a notebook and a miniature digital recorder from his pocket. "Hope you don't mind if I record this. It's insurance, to make sure my quotes are right."
    "No problem," Malloy said. "You can say anything you want about me, but just spell my name right." Since he'd left law enforcement and started his consulting company, Malloy had become a pro at handling reporters. "You were at the press conference?"
    "Oh yeah," Barnes said. "Quite the arsenal! The Long Range Acoustic Devices you've got mounted on the Humvees just blow my mind. Is it true those things were used in Iraq?"
    "They're considered nonlethal weapons. They can let out an ear-splitting screech that drowns out even the loudest demonstrators."
    "If someone blasted one hundred and fifty decibels in my ear, I'd stop chanting about peace and justice."
    "We'll only use the screamers to communicate with large crowds. We tested them the other day. Good for four blocks at least."
    "Uh-huh," the reporter said, jotting down a few notes. "The anarchists will get the message, all right."
    "My guess is that we won't need the big artillery. It's the little stuff that counts, like the scooter patrols and mechanical barriers."
    "I've heard you've got a lot of high-tech stuff too."
    "True," Malloy said. "The most effective way to control the crazies is with software, not hardware."
    "How so?"
    "Let's take a ride." Malloy turned the key in the ignition. As the car pulled away from the curb, he got on the radio. "This is Nomad. Heading north on Broadway."
    "Nomad?" Barnes said after Malloy had signed off.
    "I wander around a lot. Keeping an eye on things. The crazies know I'm on the move, but they don't know where I am. Keeps them on edge." He turned east, drove a short distance on Park, then made his way back to Broadway.
    "Who are these 'crazies,' as you call them?"
    "When it comes to anarchists, you never know who or what you're dealing with. Back in Seattle, we had enviro nuts and peace nuts. We had Wiccans and feminist neo-pagans, yelling about the WTO and the Goddess, whoever she is. Most of your mainstream anarchists are against the world economic order. They're nonviolent when it comes to people, but some of them say corporate property is fair game. Chaos is their main weapon. They're usually organized in autonomous collectives or affinity groups. They