by Tom Clancy
Park bounced the phone in his hand like he was weighing it before finally handing it to Jack.
“Listen, Ms. Fairchild. Me being followed around isn’t part of the deal. I’m heading out and I don’t want or need anyone to tag along. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Lian said on the other end of the line. “May I ask where you are going?”
“Sure, you can ask.”
Lian waited for him to tell her, but soon realized he had just made a joke at her expense. “Fine. But be sure to obey all traffic laws. Our police force is very efficient.”
Jack was going to say something else smart-ass, but he thought better of it. “Thanks for the warning.” He slapped the phone receiver into Park’s wide hand.
“Someday I think you and I are going to have a little talk,” Park said.
Jack grinned. “I’ll use small words.”
Jack pushed on the exit door again just as the electronic lock clicked open, and headed for the elevator that would take him to the underground parking facility.
Park waited for the elevator door to close before he punched a speed-dial number and issued instructions to one of his team waiting in the garage.
34
Jack stared at the security camera in the elevator. It was like every other security camera hanging in almost every corner of every room in the Dalfan building—all four stories of it.
The elevator dinged and the door opened and Jack saw the security camera attached to the support pillar directly in front of him. He winked at it. Dalfan took its security seriously, and no doubt whoever was monitoring the cameras today was watching Jack head for his company car.
He chided himself for losing his temper upstairs. He knew that lack of sleep was partly to blame, but mostly it was poor judgment on his part. It was also the disrespect that Lian and now Park were showing him that was grating on his nerves. If he was being honest, his pranking Park the other day was also disrespectful, and Lian’s feelings about what happened the other night were about her pride. What he really needed to do was to pull his head out of his ass and apologize to both of them. After all, they were just doing their jobs. It was about time he started doing his like a professional.
He unlocked the silver Dalfan Audi TT and climbed in. He pushed the starter button and the 220-horsepower engine roared to life. He then selected the navigation module on the virtual cockpit and entered his destination—the live Google map displayed between the virtual tachometer and virtual speedometer while he drove. He shifted into gear and carefully pulled out of his parking spot and, opting for the fastest possible route, which would take about forty minutes to drive, headed for the exit.
—
Jack pulled up and out of the garage and onto Changi North Crescent, then over to Upper Changi Road North, where he picked up the Pan Island Expressway (PIE), a three-lane freeway running the length of the island, closer to the center of it and away from the busy congestion of the southern downtown core abutting the Singapore Strait.
Jack’s affection for the city was growing day by day. Even Singapore’s freeways were beautiful. The well-maintained asphalt cut through the middle of a rainforest, with palm trees and colorful tropical flowers flourishing in the median strip. The light traffic on the PIE flowed smoothly.
In fact, traffic was so light and smooth that morning, it was easy for Jack to keep an eye on the black Land Rover following him several vehicles back. There were two occupants, a male passenger and a female driver, but he didn’t recognize either. He’d picked up the tail just as he got onto the PIE, and he hadn’t done anything to let them know he was aware of their presence. He did tap the brakes a few times to slow down to see if they would keep their distance—which they did—and when he accelerated they matched his speed, keeping the same traffic interval at all times.
The good news was that they were driving strictly by the book. The better news was that as far as Jack could tell, there was only one vehicle tailing him.
Jack wouldn’t allow himself to get angry again; the people back there were just doing their jobs, too. But now it was time for Jack to do his.
Jack took the Clementi Avenue 6 exit heading south, then took the Commonwealth Avenue West heading east, until he passed the Darussalam Mosque, and then turned a sharp left again onto one of the smaller streets, then left again onto a red-bricked road that ran between rows of tall apartment buildings. He watched them match him turn for turn, but they were falling farther and farther behind.
Jack kept making left turns, then right, driving around as if he were a tourist just taking in the sights, finding narrower roads with heavier traffic, until he came back out on a series of numbered Clementi streets—2, then 5, then 4, then 3, and back around again. Jack wondered why this Clementi fellow was so important that he had several tree-lined streets named after him, even if they all ended in numbers.
In the many twists and turns and congested traffic, there was no way for a single vehicle to follow him successfully without being noticed, and clearly they’d been given the orders to do both. Not willing to expose themselves, they apparently opted to drop out. Now Jack could proceed to his destination.
—
Paul checked his watch. He’d been working for exactly one hour. Gavin should be free right about now.
“I need to go stretch my legs,” Paul told Bai, standing up.
“It just started raining outside,” Bai said.
Paul reached for his raincoat. “I like the rain.”
“I wouldn’t mind a walk myself.” Bai also rose.
“By all means, do so. But wherever you go, I’ll meet you back here in thirty minutes.”
Bai took the not-so-subtle hint. “Okay, Mr. Brown.”
Paul stood and waited for Bai to gather his things and leave before he headed for the exit, hoping like heck that Gavin could save his bacon.
35
Paul saw the torrential downpour through the front-door entrance. He couldn’t stay in the building if he wanted to use his cell phone, and he was sure the landlines would all be monitored. He borrowed an umbrella from the security guard at the front desk, who remotely unlocked the door for him as he headed out into the heavy rain.
Paul surely must have looked like a fool to the security guard as he stepped outside for a walk, but he didn’t have an alternative. He figured he didn’t need to get more than a block away from the Dalfan building. He doubted the local authorities would allow Lian’s security system to rob the entire industrial park of cell-phone service.
The pounding rain beat his umbrella like a drum skin and the tires of the cars whizzing past him hissed through the standing water in the street. The slanting wind drove the rain beneath his umbrella, soaking his suit coat. At least it isn’t cold, he told himself. We’re too close to the equator.
Paul needed to find a quieter place to make his call. He spied a canvas awning on a building across from the Dalfan block and on a quiet side street. Paul waddled toward it as fast as his gimpy leg would allow.
Finally under cover, away from the traffic noise, Paul dialed Gavin’s cell phone. After a few rings, Gavin picked up.
“Paul Brown from way downtown. How’s it hanging?”
“Fine. How’s the foot?”
“In a boot for six weeks. Messes up my tango lessons, but other than that, not too bad. So what’s this about an emergency regarding Jack?”
“No one can hear this conversation, right?”
“I’m working from home. Nobody but me and the goldfish. So what the hell is going on?”
“I think we’ve got a security issue developing here,” Paul began. He’d carefully rehearsed the lies he was about to tell, but he’d memorized them in order, so he hoped he could keep them straight.
“‘Security’ as in national security?”
“I think so.”
“You’re full of it.” G
avin served as the IT director of both Hendley Associates and The Campus. Paul Brown didn’t know about The Campus or Gavin’s role in it.
Paul was startled by Gavin’s reaction even though he’d anticipated it. Of course it was a lie, and Paul wasn’t good at lying, but he had to make it work. “It’s a security situation involving Jack.”
“Jack? Why him? He’s a financial analyst, not a spy.” Gavin was covering for Jack’s role in The Campus—a piece of information Paul Brown need not be privy to.
“I know. But I think he’s having an affair with one of the corporate principals, and I’m convinced she’s working for the Chinese.”
Paul’s heart sank. He felt terrible lying about Jack, but he knew that Gavin would do anything to protect him.
“Good for Jack,” Gavin said. “In my youth, I had my way with a few ladies myself.”
“I bet you did. But how many of them worked for the Ministry of State Security?”
“If you know for sure she’s MSS, we need to tell Jack right now.”
“No, I don’t know for sure. That’s why I called you. I only have my suspicions. What I need is proof. I have a plan, but it requires you to write a piece of software for me.”
“You’re making me nervous. Maybe we should bring Gerry in on this.”
“No! Are you kidding? What if I’m wrong? Jack and I are here to help close a deal between one of Gerry’s old friends and the company this woman runs security for—in fact, she’s the daughter of the owner.”
“I don’t like the way this is sounding.”
Paul began to panic. Gavin was about to blow the whistle on him.
“Look, Gavin, if this woman really isn’t MSS but word gets out that we think she is, it will kill the merger. And if word gets out that Jack is having an affair with this woman, it might get him in trouble with Gerry, whether or not she’s a spy.”
“But especially if she is.”
“Which is why we need to find out for sure without Gerry or anybody else knowing. That way, we can protect Jack and protect Gerry’s client all at the same time.”
“Okay, I get it. I’ll keep my mouth shut, at least for now. So what exactly do you need?”
Paul laid out what he was trying to do—find a work-around of the encryption on the USB drive, which was true. The lie he told was that he needed to be able to breach Lian’s computer to find out if she was working for the Chinese. He was under strict orders from Rhodes that nobody could know about the CIA spyware, and that included Gavin.
“That’s a tall order,” Gavin grumbled.
A woman dashed past Paul with a paper mask on her face and a clear plastic umbrella over her head. He stopped talking and kept his eyes on her until she was out of earshot.
“I think I’ve figured out a way to beat it. But it requires you to write a piece of software I can load on my laptop that will capture the encryption code on her USB drive when I load it.”
“That won’t be too hard,” Gavin said. “But once you’ve captured the encryption code, what do you plan on doing with it?”
“Load it onto one of my personal USB drives and use it to break in.”
Gavin whistled. “That might be a problem.” A long silence followed.
“Gavin?”
“Thinking.”
Paul heard keys tapping on the other end of the line.
Gavin finally spoke up. “Any chance you have the model and serial numbers for it?”
“Yes, actually. I’ll forward those right now.”
“Good. It just so happens I know a gal over at NSA who’s put together something that might do the trick.”
“Can you get it from her?”
“Are you kidding? What woman can resist my masculine charms?”
Then we’re screwed, Paul thought. “Of course. What was I thinking?”
“Besides, she owes me a favor. Let me reach out to her. But you still might have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Most security systems require two-factor authentication. Even if you grab the encryption code and load it on your drive, you’ll probably need her personal passcode to break in.”
“I’ve got that covered, thanks.” Paul didn’t tell him that the two-factor passcode for the CIA software was actually his. “Anything else?”
“I should be able to get that snatchware to you in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Not soon enough.”
“You don’t think I have anything better to do than run errands for you?”
“It’s Jack we’re talking about. Twenty-four hours won’t work.”
Gavin sighed. “Fine. I’ll figure something out. Call me if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Gavin. For Jack’s sake.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
Gavin rang off just as the rain broke. Paul collapsed his umbrella and shook it out, suddenly excited by the possibility that his long shot of a plan might actually have a chance of working.
—
The wipers on his Toyota rental minivan slapped away the heavy monsoon rain thudding against his windshield as he turned toward Changi Airport. He followed the white arrows on the red asphalt lanes toward the pickup area outside the stunning glass-and-steel structure of Terminal 3.
While he made the run to the airport, the German left his Ukrainian and Bulgarian associates back at their posts in order to keep a close watch on Paul Brown.
The noise of the rain pounding on his roof suddenly stopped when his vehicle passed beneath the large steel overhang in front of the terminal. He spotted the lone figure with the smart leather satchel and flat driver’s cap standing by the giant number 4 gate marker, just where he should be. The German recognized the narrow-shouldered man instantly. He’d never worked with Wolz before, but knew him well by reputation. Everyone in the organization did. So did the foreign intelligence services. But no one knew Wolz better than his victims.
The German shuddered.
Wolz’s narrow face sharpened even further with displeasure, either because of the inclement weather or because of the fact he had to wait nearly two minutes before being picked up.
Or both.
The German pulled the silver Toyota minivan up to the curb and stopped, turning to make eye contact with Wolz, but the middle-aged man with the pencil mustache and angry blue eyes just stared straight ahead as if the van didn’t even exist.
Taking the hint, the German swore under his breath and crawled out of his seat and scrambled around to the other side of the vehicle. He opened the sliding rear passenger door and Wolz finally acknowledged him with a quick study of the German’s face and, finally, a curt, humorless nod.
Wolz stepped into the rear of the minivan and took a seat in the center of the bench, carefully setting his hand-tooled satchel beside him as the German dashed back around the Toyota and crawled into the driver’s seat, hurrying to avoid the airport police, who he knew circled the terminal in regular four-minute intervals in search of parking violations.
The German pulled away from the curb and eased into the departing traffic. They rode silently toward their hotel, where a special meal was being prepared for Wolz’s particular dietary needs by the Romanian woman the German had picked up two hours earlier from the same terminal. Wolz was the last member of the team needed to carry out the mission. Paul Brown’s movements had been carefully tracked and recorded, and both vehicles and weapons had been secured.
With Wolz finally in position, all they were waiting for now was the word to engage.
36
Jack made his way back to Clementi Avenue 6 and connected with the Ayer Rajah Expressway (AYE) heading west, then turned south on Pioneer Road, making the final turn onto the side street that dead-ended at the building he was looking for down near the port.
Jack wasn’t completely surprised to see
that the building was surrounded by cyclone fencing and razor wire or that there was a guard shack and a barrier arm. What did surprise him was the fact that the guards, dressed in street clothes, were armed with weapons printing beneath their baggy shirts. They were hard and serious men—not your typical Asian rent-a-cops. His gut told him they were operators, but he couldn’t prove it. But a wolf always recognizes another wolf, even when he’s dressed like a lamb.
Jack pulled up to the guard shack and rolled down his window. The taller of the two guards stepped out of the shack and leaned over toward Jack’s window while the other one picked up a phone.
“Sir?”
“My name is Jack Ryan and I’m with Hendley Associates doing an audit on behalf of the Dalfan corporation. Here are my credentials.” Jack handed the man his Dalfan security pass and identity card.
The guard examined them briefly. “Wait.” He returned to the guard shack and conferred with the other guard, who now examined Jack’s credentials while still talking on the phone.
Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What the hell was the problem? A moment later a four-passenger golf cart pulled up to the gate and four more beefy security guards jumped out.
The tall guard came back out of the shack and handed Jack his credentials as the man on the phone hung up and stepped outside.
“Not permitted entrance.” The guards who arrived in the cart now surrounded Jack’s Audi TT on all four sides. None of them had unholstered their weapons, but none of them looked like they were shy about the possibility.
“What do you mean ‘not permitted’? I have access to every Dalfan property in this city.”
The guard scowled. “Leave.”
Jack pointed at the phone in the guard shack. “Pick up that receiver and call your boss, Lian Fairchild, or better yet, call her dad, Dr. Fairchild. They both know who I am and they sure as hell know why I’m here.”
The tall guard straightened and pointed at the road behind Jack. “You leave now.”