by D S Kane
She stood her ground. “Who are you?”
“My name is Simon Pascal. I’m the newbie with The Swiftshadow Group. I’m the chef. I also have other skills.”
She thought about the heavy French accent as she took a step back and examined his hands. His fingers were stained from the food he created. “A chef?”
“Oui. Trained in Gascony. An army must eat before battle.”
“It must be vital if Avram sent you. What’s the problem and how can I help?” She led him to a table and motioned for him to sit. When he did, she brought a bottle of Armagnac from the liquor shelf and two glasses to the table.
“My orders are to tell you that Wing is researching the money-transfer network used by the West Wing to fund black ops without Congressional oversight. He and the general are assisted by a Brit named Jon Sommers, a management consultant and adjunct to the Mossad. They are also being assisted by a woman who calls herself Sandra Rubin. According to the general, her name was Shula Ries when she worked with him at Mossad. She is now an executive vice president at Manhattan National Bank, in charge of foreign exchange and electronic funds transfer.”
She nodded, stroking her chin. “So Project SafePay, the funds-transfer network, is active again. That can’t be good.” She scratched her forehead. “Who’s the Swiftshadow client?”
“The Brits are paying.”
Her brows arched. Why would the British be involved? She didn’t need to ask the question, trusting him to tell her.
The blond man approached the table and sat with them. Pascal noticed him reach for her hand. The woman smiled at him. “Oh, I’ve been so rude. My name is Andrea Selman and this is my husband, Dave. And my daughter over at the corner table is Sasha. The cat’s Gizmo. I was Swiftshadow’s founder. I had a different identity then, but traded that life for running a restaurant.” She smirked. “Can you teach me a few recipes from Gascony?”
She watched him react to her smile. She saw him relax, and it seemed to her like some massive door opened in his face. A mix of things faced her from the other side of his expression: respect, a tiny bit of fear, and a dash of awe.
He nodded. “This I will do if we have the time.”
She folded her hands in front of her. “So if it’s SafePay, the West Wing is behind it. I wonder what black ops they’re funding?” She turned away for a few seconds, staring out the window at the ocean. “Uh, what’s my role in this to be?”
Pascal stood stock still, his hands clasped behind his back, as if reporting to a superior. “Brits think terrorists can place suitcase nukes anywhere. London, Paris, Washington, Middle East. Wing looks for clues but he is stuck. The problem is too big for him. He wants help. The general knows and trusts Sommers, but Sommers hasn’t good hacking skills. They’d like your assistance and guidance.”
She shook her head. “I’m not traveling and only one person can visit me at a time. It’s too dangerous out there. So many people want me and my family dead.”
“No travel. Computer contact only. I give you website’s new password for email. To report in, leave email in draft folder. Name your draft with the date in year-month-day format in the subject line. Leave report as an attachment to the draft. Then open other draft email called ‘log’ and enter update status.”
“What if you want to leave a message for me?”
“There will be an item in the log with your initials in it, Mrs. Selman. Use the item’s ID to find the actual draft and open its attachment to get your message.”
She sighed. It was straightforward and a procedure spies everywhere used these days. She wondered how she felt about getting back into the path she’d fled so recently. They had only been here for a month.
But, it would be good to do some real work. The restaurant was already boring her. The odors of uncooked food still drove her crazy, even with Lee—now Dave—doing the sous chef prep work. “Okay then. I’ll get started tonight after we complete serving dinner. The place will be filled to capacity tonight, but there is always room for one more. Care to help us cook dinner? Your reward will be eating what’s on our menu.”
* * *
Pascal stayed for dinner, but he didn’t eat. He closely observed every move Andrea—a.k.a. Cassie, he knew—made as she created a Moroccan tagine prepared with lamb shanks as the house special. Twenty-seven people showed and there were two no-shows, a couple from Half Moon Bay who called from their cellphone to apologize because their car wouldn’t start.
Pascal also took a seat by the kitchen and watched Dave—who he’d been told used to be Lee—as he pulled raw ingredients from the fridge and assembled them for Andrea to cook. Twice the merc got up from his seat and sniffed something she was about to use, watched her measure the ingredients Dave assembled on the counter, and then sat back, his eyes closed as he sniffed samples of the finished products.
Andrea felt like she was on display. She remembered her months at the cooking academy so many years ago, being overseen at an exam by an aged chef. Now, history was repeating itself for her. Then Pascal pushed her away and started the assembly of several of the dishes.
As the last guests paid their bill and left, Pascal returned his attention to her. “You are exceptional. But use more cinnamon in the lamb tagines. If your hacking skills are even half as good, we could really use you.”
She laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She bussed dirty dishes from some of the tables, with Sasha helping.
Sasha walked between them and faced Pascal. “Restaurants are safer than what she used to do. I want my mom alive. Neither Dad nor I will let her do anything dangerous. Ever again.”
Pascal shook his head and moved toward the door. “Please watch the website for email drafts. The new password is ‘divadoesnottravel.’ Key it as a single word. I guess Wing called that one.” He donned his Burberry and nodded to them all. Then the door swung closed behind him.
Andrea smiled. Diva wouldn’t be traveling unless her family was threatened again.
* * *
There was an email draft on the website that basically restated what Pascal had told her. From the phrasing she could see that Wing wrote it. She pondered the obvious questions once again, and could assume no further answers. Andrea sat with her chin held up by her hand, her elbow bent against the table.
She didn’t realize Sasha had come up behind her. “What do they want you to do this time?” When Andrea turned she could see her daughter’s pout.
She pointed to the screen. “They need someone to direct their research. I’m the obvious choice. Come here. Look at the email. See what William did and the obstacles he was unable to work through?”
The girl squinted at the screen. She shook her head. “No. What does the phrase ‘one-off’ mean? And what’s a ‘semi-repetitive’? At least I know what a ‘firewall’ is. But—”
Cassie giggled. “Okay! I’ll start at the beginning. The White House claimed it needed a new funds-transfer network to pay our soldiers in all the countries where they go. For example, Afghanistan. The normal way to pay people in our country uses a system called the Automated Clearing House to funnel money from the bank account of a company or an organization to each of its employees. The ACH system assumes that everyone who gets paid gets the same amount every pay period, with adjustments for paid overtime. You understand that much?”
Sasha nodded.
“Good. But the SafePay system wasn’t really set up to deliver payrolls. Our former President told us it was, but in reality, the system skimmed small amounts from the Treasury Tax system and sent the cash to other bank accounts where it was used by the White House to fund black operations—operations no one could trace since the funds came from a source that Congress knew nothing about. And those operations weren’t performed by any of our secret police forces. They were done by subcontractors and NOCs. Do you remember what those are?”
Sasha nodded. “Of course, Mom. I never forget anything. You were a NOC.” She smiled.
Andrea smiled back. “Yeah. We
ll, the funds were sent to a set of bank accounts that no one was to know about. I found out by accident, but said I wouldn’t tell if the government gave The Swiftshadow Group special status as a preferred vendor to the Federal government.”
Sasha nodded. “But that Ben-Levy guy leaked your story when they arrested Lee and sent him to Gitmo. It’s why we had to flee Washington. And it’s why Grandma was murdered at your wedding.”
Just the mention of this had tears forming and falling from Andrea’s eyes. “Yes. But Ben-Levy never mentioned SafePay. He just said the former President was funding terrorism before his term ended. And now, our new President is using SafePay again. So something big is about to happen.”
Dave poked his head out from the kitchen. “Dishes, pots, and pans all done. Fridge is organized for tomorrow. And, I heard everything. Just one question. How dangerous is this for you, Sasha and me?”
She shook her head. “Don’t know, won’t know. Probably nothing to worry about as long as we keep a low profile.”
She wondered if the word probably was good enough.
CHAPTER 25
May 31, 10:11 a.m.
The Swiftshadow Group headquarters,
2099 K Street NW, Washington, DC
Avram Shimmel remembered his last meeting with Susan Rubin and Jon Sommers, three months ago. So far, their search for answers had come up empty. After the most recent meeting had ended, he’d remained in the conference room for hours after they left. The meeting haunted him. He took a deep breath. Her perfume still filled his nostrils. How could he have been so deceived by Mossad’s plan to keep her survival a secret?
Initially, William Wing had remained as well, sitting across the table from him, tapping notes into his notebook. Through the conference room windows Avram could see gray clouds forming on the horizon, moving across a bright blue sky. The unsettled weather mirrored the thoughts and feelings holding him an unwilling captive. He barely nodded when Wing said something and left the room.
He remembered seeing her once-gorgeous face from outside the hospital room in Haifa when they’d closed the curtains and pulled a sheet over her bloody body. And now she’d returned from the dead, no longer a femme fatale, now a doddering old banker.
He ached to hold her.
This was so much like a game of chess. First, there was Jon Sommers. The man had been his friend for three years. But now, his value was no longer as a pawn, the way the Mossad and Ben-Levy had used him. Now he’d risen to be at least a knight on the global chessboard. If MI-6 could fund the operation as Jon had claimed, he could be a literal lifesaver. One Avram could trust.
The Bank of Trade was the wild card, a chess piece whose value and position on the board could change or vanish at will. A financial institution where every secret police force and terrorist organization held its own bank accounts, and, therefore, its own secrets, beyond the laws of any nation. He remembered completing dead drops of cash into the Bank of Trade for Mossad to fund their black operations years ago. Even The Swiftshadow Group now had an account there. He shook his head.
But why choose Manhattan National as their US correspondent bank? Was there more to Sandra Rubin—Wipes—than she was telling him? He shook his head. Of course there was.
With that, he realized they were all connected. Bank of Trade, Manhattan National, MI6, Mossad, Swiftshadow, and the West Wing. But joined how?
He looked up and saw that Wing had returned. He shook his head to clear it. “William, my gut tells me they’re all parts of the same engine. Assemble a team and work from Sashakovich’s house in Chevy Chase. Your best hackers. And keep this quiet. No hacker challenges to everyone out there. Understood?”
When Wing nodded, smiling, Avram continued on. “Whatever it takes, figure this out. Oh, and include that reporter. What’s her name? June O’Toole?”
Wing shook his head. “It’s April. April O’Toole. Okay, I’ll start now. It’ll be me, April, the Butterfly, Sam Tyler, and, well, I’ll need at least two more to make this work.”
Shimmel tapped his desk with a pen, thinking. “Get them. Uh, who are you considering?”
Wing stared into the older man’s eyes. “Cassie and her daughter, Ann.”
Shimmel’s eyebrows rose almost to the point of leaving his head. His face turned down in a frown. “Diva does not travel.”
William smiled. “Via the secure teleconferencing vid-cam.”
“And Ann? What has she to do with this?”
William nodded in response to Shimmel’s eyebrows rising in surprise. He spoke slowly, clearly, confidently. “She’s talented. Possibly better than either me or the Butterfly. But I’ll need Butterfly to direct Ann.” Wing smiled sheepishly.
Shimmel shook his head. “I feel certain she’ll want her daughter to remain an innocent in all of this.”
Wing nodded. But he spoke the words with a desperate tone in his voice. “Please, Avram. Make the request. Cassie will listen if it comes from you.”
* * *
Andrea checked her email. She found just one, but it was to the divadoesnottravel email address:
Need your help. We have the SafePay Systems Architect. The SSA says one of the endpoint updates was to include an account in Vlad. Could be N. Tobelov. Call back on secure line using GNU Radio ASAP.
—CryptoMonger
Cassie found her contacts list and punched William’s number into the secure phone. The first ring hadn’t finished when he picked up. As usual, he was speaking fast. “Hey, you! This is my first time talking to the dead.”
“Very funny. How is Orley?”
“She’s okay, but shook up to the nines. She’s thinking of quitting, you know.”
Andrea remembered how close to death Sylvia had come. One inch higher and the armor-piercing shell would have directly entered her neck, not bounced off her liquid armor-protected Hawaiian shirt and grazed her head. Then she remembered her own horrifying near miss with death in Evergreen. She shook her head to regain focus. “What do you want, William?”
“We’re at a dead end. We know a lot, but nothing computes.” She heard a few clicks through the phone and wondered if there was a tap on the line. But GNU Radios were secure. Then he said, “I just sent you an email. Use XGP to decrypt. This week’s encryption key seed is ‘hate_the_ bankers_349872kt.’” She scribbled the key on a piece of paper at her desk. Now she knew it was just Wing’s speedy keying she’d heard. “Contains everything we have.” William went silent for a while but she knew there was more to come.
She preempted him. “The dead don’t travel. Diva does not travel. Remember?” She walked to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.
“Yeah. I know. But we’re short of hackers. To keep the rumor mill from scoping us, it’s just me and the Butterfly. Not enough horsepower to grunge through. So, here goes, I need you to work via secure teleconference link.”
Andrea shook her head as she swallowed some coffee. She’d tell him! “Not gonna happen.”
But William wasn’t finished. “Then I need you to send Ann.”
Coffee spewed from her mouth. “What? Why?” She was shouting into the phone, alarms shrieking in her head.
“Listen, before all this went down, I was teaching your daughter advanced computing, as you requested. Well, she’s got more latent talent in hacking than anyone could have imagined. She picked up advanced hacking techniques by sitting near my desk for three hours while she pretended to be doing her homework. Look, we could really use one more top-notch hacker, and she’s it.”
Andrea frowned, turning her head to watch Sasha through the doorway. Her daughter sat in the living room, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her notebook. She was supposed to be researching a high school history report, but now Andrea wasn’t sure. Ann, a hacking expert?
She’d asked William to tutor her in computers a few months ago, but now she had to know: “William, what have you done?”
“Well, she’s very bright about technology. The day after her very first lesson
, I let her watch me work on a parsing problem. The next day she hacked into that private school you send her to, and raised her English grade from C- to B+. She told me. So, I hacked in and changed it back. Don’t tell her, okay?”
Her mind swirled.
“Please send her. I want her and the Butterfly to work together on this.”
Calm down, she told herself. If William needed her, she must be good. Really good. But how could it be safe to send her? “You know how I feel about this. It’s dangerous. Did you know the Feds included Ann in their fatwa? Not just Lee and me?”
“Yes. But this is so important. We’ll house her at the compound in Chevy Chase along with a full team of mercs. Cassie, listen, it might get rid of your problem once and for all.”
She considered the prospect of getting all of her enemies off her back forever. Is it possible? “Well, if I’m to do this, you’ll have to have Shimmel send a team of bodyguards to collect her. And I want a full squadron, not just a team, at the house in Chevy Chase at all times. There may be people out there who want her dead. Friends of Marconi and Stepponi.”
“Promise. I’ve already spoken with Avram. I’ll get the bodyguards going tonight. And…” She heard tapping again for almost two minutes. “I’ve sent you her travel docket. We’ll call you as soon as she’s in the house. Okay?”
She paced the room. “Not so fast. Have Avram send four mercs here for us, one at a time so their arrivals don’t attract attention. They may backtrace Ann’s travel docket. We have to be ready to flee. Okay?”
“Certainly. Wing out.”
She shouted into the phone. “Wait! In return, I want a favor.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds. “Okay. Like, what?”
She paced the room. “Not sure yet. I’ll tell you what when I figure out what I need. Okay?” She waited, hearing him breathe. “Okay, William?”