by D S Kane
swiftshadow—may i call you cassandra? your real name is cassandra sashakovich. I got your call-sign and IDed you from files I hacked at one of the u. s. intel agencies. I remember you from hong kong. you looked fine in the black clothing you wore when you broke in my apartment in the new territories. when am I getting back my hard drives? what a tool you are. too bad the agency outed you. shades of valerie plame! and I see that you’re single. so am i! got movies of you from the videocam in my living room, and your fingerprints from my computer case cover. sloppy work, dear.
i’ll do this for you, but at a cost. you owe me a big, big, big favor and i’ll tell you what and when. you must agree to do whatever i demand if I do this for you. reply, and that will be acceptance and confirmation of a deal.
—CryptoMonger
The reply stunned Cassie. “I do know him. His name is William Wing. I broke into his apartment in Hong Kong and stole both of the hard disks in his computers.” Lee looked surprised. Cassie shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Lee. “It was my first independent consulting assignment, Lee.”
“Lee said, “We have no choice. And little time.”
“I agree. I’ll give him whatever he wants if we survive.” She hit the ‘reply’ button, keyed these words:
CryptoMonger—Agreed, confirmed, and accepted. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, William
—Swiftshadow.
Then she hit the Send button and waited with Lee for another email. Minutes passed, seeming hours to her. She began to worry that something had gone wrong.
The computer bleeped again. Wing sent her a brief message explaining how he’d done the decryption, and he attached a decrypted version of the file she’d sent him. Wing also sent an attached Microsoft Word document accompanying the decrypted file. The email stated:
Cassandra—looks like you have a real problem. the files were a snap for me to decrypt. and what’s in them makes it easy for me to guess what’s happening where you are, so I might as well decrypt the rest of your files, if you have any more. it’ll cost you but I can do them much faster than anyone else; i’m the best in the world.
i backtraced the source of your email and found where you are now located. might get very hot soon.
price for decrypting the rest: $2,000,000 USD, and you must wire this to me ASAP so i have the money before you roast.
what i’ve just done for you isn’t included in the price, and as we just agreed, i’ll tell you what I want if you live through this. let me know ASAP.
if you want to attempt decrypting the rest yourself, i’ve attached the tools you’ll need, gratis. i can do this four times faster… now i know the algorithms employed and it’s just a function of running them through my decryption programs. if they don’t work, i will find out why and trying a different set of tools. a piece of cake for me.
i’m the best—CryptoMonger
The decrypted Microsoft Word attachment coming with the message contained a text file:
Weapon Piece Truck Route
1 1.1 – Timer 1 Canada, Toronto, 401E to 81S, then 95 to DC
1 1.2 – Detonator 2 Canada, Toronto, US-219 south out of Buffalo, PA-153 to I-80 east, PA-970 to US-322 to US-220/I-99 to I-70 to I-270
1 1.3 – Foil Globe 3 Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC1
1 1.4 – Bullet Tube 4 Canada, Toronto, Cross border at Lewiston, NY, SR 20/63 to IS 390/US 15 south, becomes I86/US15, to US 15/ Susquehanna Trail, 15 becomes IS 83, to 695, 95S
1 1.5 – Bomb Casing 5 Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
1 1.6 – Tamper 6 Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
1 1.7 – Plastic Foam Filler 7 Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
1 1.8 – Fissionable Material NONE Other Arrangements
Weapon Piece Truck Route
2 2.1 – Timer LAX
(Los Angeles) LA, CA 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
2 2.2 – Detonator LAX LA, CA 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
2 2.3 – Foil Globe MIA
(MIAMI) Miami, FL, 95 to DC
2 2.4 – Bullet Tube MIA Miami, FL, 95 to DC
2 2.5 – Bomb Casing ORD
(OHARE) Chicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
2 2.6 – Tamper ORD Chicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
2 2.7 – Plastic Foam
Filler ORD Chicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
2 2.8 – Fissionable
Material NONE Other Arrangements
Weapon Piece Military Base Route
3 3.1 – Timer Whidbey, WA Seattle, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
3 3.2 – Detonator Whidbey, WA Seattle, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
3 3.3 – Foil Globe Whidbey, WA Seattle, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
3 3.4 – Bullet Tube Pensacola, FL Miami, FL, 95 to DC
3 3.5 – Bomb Casing Pensacola, FL Miami, FL, 95 to DC
3 3.6 – Tamper Norfolk Naval, VA Washington, Dulles
3 3.7 – Plastic Foam
Filler Norfolk Naval, VA Washington, Dulles
3 3.8 – Fissionable
Material NONE Other Arrangements
Deep in thought, Cassie’s hand scratched her chin. “Wow, he really is that good. I think these are all the parts necessary for a nuclear device. So this is a ‘road map’ for their delivery into the United States. Shit. I wonder what ‘Other Arrangements’ means,” she said, referring to the source of the fissionable material. “The Federal NEST people found a van they claim is from Seattle, but it’s more complicated than that. The parts come from all over.”
Lee touched her shoulder. “Where did they craft all these deliveries into three bombs minus the fissionable material? Was it at one of the places listed here, and then on to Lewisburg, or did they do everything there? What was that van doing in Washington before it contained an active bomb? Lots of important questions unanswered. Maybe the other files have something that can help us here.”
Lee and Cassie viewed the contents of the text file. Without speaking, they nodded agreement.
“Two million is cheap,” said Lee.
Cassie sent Wing some other files she wanted decrypted. Within the body of the email, she begged a favor from the hacker.
CryptoMonger—
I have another request. Charge what you want for this one, and I’ll pay if I’m still alive. Please find out whose fingerprints and DNA belong to the attachment labeled “mole1.” It’s someone working at the agency and I can’t hack through their personnel directory’s firewall.
She hoped the answer wasn’t Lee.
PART IV
CHAPTER 41
September 14, 8:11 a.m.
Intersection of State Highways 219 and 60,
West Virginia
The mole turned off State Highway 219 onto State Highway 60, speeding southeast. State Highway 60 turned into East Washington Street without any notice of the change in street names. Slowing the vehicle, the mole looked for the General Lewis Inn, at 301 East Washington Street. Exhausted, more panicked now, just a few blocks away from the destination.
The mole drove past a copse of tall oak trees, and down the long driveway toward the Inn. The mole needed a place to hide the van from the street. The back of cabin number 2 would do nicely, behind a large truck proclaiming “www. FrenchGourmetCusine.com—the finest food on earth” on its side panels. Brush and trees around the inn gave the mole cover from the other cabins. The mole ran down a mental list of preparations:
Remove the gun from my shoulder holster and load a shell in its chamber. Then refill the clip where that shell had been and place it back into the gun, yielding one extra bullet. Push the safety off and adjust the Kevlar vest concealed under my jacket.
11:54 a.m. The mole looked for a guard but there was none visible—surprising, no outside security—then stepped in silence to the door of cabin number 4. Continue l
ooking for something missed. But there’s no outside guard. Look at the cabin’s windows. Big surprise, the shades are up. I can see into the cabin.
The mole listened at the door and heard the faint sound of Middle Eastern music playing inside. Sloppy work.
Crouch and circle the cabin. Raise my head just enough to see in each window. In the front one asshole paces the room with a holstered weapon. At one of the side windows, a single hostile sits in a chair, holding a handgun. Can’t tell the exact makes and models of the weapons, but from their size I assume they’re automatics. Shit. My spouse and son are on the bed in the side room with one of the fanatics, hands bound and tied to the bedposts. In the back window, two more with weapons holstered talking, sitting on a couch in the entryway. Total of four unfriendlies.
The mole thought for a few seconds, took a deep breath, then another. Panic suppression technique. I knew this would be difficult. Too many of them in too many different rooms. No way for me to crash the door and shoot them all before they murder my spouse and son.
The mole stayed in place while considering different tactics, playing them through to completion. Each came to a disastrous end. Charging in, I’ll die within seconds. Shoot through the window, my spouse and son will die in seconds. One other course of action offered a slightly better outcome, but not much better. No good options. The mole picked that one with the best success probability, even though it would probably fail.
The mole left-handed the gun and moved it away where it wasn’t visible to an unfriendly opening the door. Then the mole drove every emotion from consciousness until the mind became an empty vessel. I can hear crickets. I can smell curry cooking.
Taking a deep breath to help sharpen focus, and using the right hand to knock on the door, the mole said, “I have a delivery for Houmaz.”
The door was cracked by a young man who smelled like he’d never showered in his entire life. The man held a Beretta in his hand and motioned the mole into the room for a pat-down search. The mole stepped further back out of the doorway to the side of the cabin’s exterior and said, “There’s a small problem with the warhead I need to show you before we move it from the van.”
The guard looked puzzled. The mole pointed to the vehicle, then motioned, indicating the terrorist should come out. When the terrorist took a step, the mole grabbed his hand, using an aikido move. The forward motion of the man’s movement took him into range of the mole ’s gun, which the mole used to slam the terrorist across the face, rendering him unconscious. The mole dropped his limp body just outside the cabin’s door.
The mole pocketed the guard’s weapon and moved in silence through the doorway.
The mole headed fast through the entryway, which contained the cabin’s kitchen and also had two doors. One led into the bedroom where the mole’s spouse and son were guarded by a single man. The other led into the room containing two other terrorists on the couch, watching television news.
The mole took a deep breath and stepped to the bedroom door and pushed the door slightly, quietly swinging it open wide enough to enter. The mole could clearly see the layout. A man faced away from the mole toward the spouse and son, threatening both with his gun drawn.
The mole spun around the door, grabbed the guard’s wrist, and used another aikido move to disarm the man.
But the terrorist yelled before the mole could beat him to the floor and silence him. The other two men came running to the doorway, remaining safely outside.
The mole heard them draw their weapons. One of them spoke English with a British accent. “Do you wish to leave here alive with your family? If so, let’s trade what you have brought us for your life and their lives. I am Sultan Raman. Throw your van’s keys through the door to me, and I will check its contents. If we have what we want, we’ll move our other supplies into your van before I return. Then you will let Farad leave the room. We’ll take the van and be gone.”
“How do I know you won’t kill us?”
Raman’s voice seemed confident and calm to the mole. “My instructions state not to kill you unless you fail to cooperate. You are a valuable asset and we expect to use you again. That is, if you survive. When we are gone, do not return to anywhere within twenty miles of Washington DC or you will surely die.”
The mole noticed both family members were gagged. The fear in their eyes was a visible mirror of the mole’s. I can see Raman through the crack in the door. There is no other way for us to exit the cabin without being shot.
The mole tossed the NDC van’s keys out into the hallway, keeping the gun aimed at the middle of Farad’s face. From the other side of the doorway, Sultan Raman smiled as he turned, and walked to the van with his companions.
Raman returned minutes later and said, “We’ll leave now.” He tossed the French Cuisine van’s keys inside the bedroom. “It’s the French cuisine truck. Let Farad come out now.” The mole sighed and released the captive. Farad slowly emerged from the bedroom and the two others walked backwards, tugging at him, their weapons aimed at the bedroom doorway as they left the cabin and approached the van.
* * *
It took four hours to complete decrypting the files. Cassie’s wristwatch glowed 2:32 a.m. Less than ten hours remained. She watched rain pour from the dark sky outside the embassy. Lightning occasionally brightened the night momentarily. Lee stood with her in the conference room.
Wagner examined the printed pages. He looked at the decrypted emails and then at each face in the small group seated at the table. He faced Cassie and Lee. “This will help.” But the expression on his face wasn’t grateful. He waved his hand in dismissal at Ainsley and Sashakovich. “Our men can take it from here.”
Avram Shimmel looked daggers at Cassie, warning her once again to be silent. She rose and exited the room with Lee following on her heels. “I need a shower, sweet boy. My clothing needs to be burned. Can you help out? I’m going back to the small office we were using. Get back to me as soon as you find out where there’s a shower in the embassy and please find me change of clothes.”
He nodded and moved away fast. She entered the office, curled up on the carpet under the desk, and fell asleep in seconds.
* * *
Cassie stood ramrod straight, clean and well-rested, staring out the embassy window facing southeast toward the Capitol. The White House was less than five miles away. It was a few seconds before noon and they had failed to collect all the bombs.
They had found another assembled weapon, minus the fissionable material, and nuclear material for two bombs in one of the rooms of the General Lewis Inn but the terrorists had long since vanished with one completely assembled weapon. It seemed probable they realized their time was short and decided to leave with just the one.
The missing bomb sat somewhere in the city of Washington, and Wagner said, “Finding the missing device will be like finding a needle in a haystack.” Everyone still worked at coordinating efforts to find the device, but with little chance of success.
She could see the tip of the Washington Monument rising into the sky. It was still overcast after yesterday’s rain. From her position at a third-floor window, Cassie saw the reflective glare of perspiration on the faces of the guards at the front gate of the embassy.
A bright flash from downtown jerked her gaze. Almost at the same instant, the glass of the window just in front of her face splintered into fragments, all chasing toward her as the window frame vaporized in the howling heat of a nuclear hurricane. Cassie felt the melted glass rip through her body, smelled her body burn to dust as her soul was snuffed out.
* * *
Lee gently held Cassie’s head in his lap, stroking her hair. “Wake up, sweetie. That must have been quite a dream. You howled like a cat in heat and moved so violently, I thought you’d knock over the desk. You’ve been asleep for almost an hour.”
Cassie’s legs trembled as she emerged from her dream. She shook her head and slowly got to her feet.
He extended his hand to steady her. “Bef
ore you go, there’s something I have to ask you.”
She could see his anguish. “Is this about the bomb?”
“It’s complicated. There are two things. I was shocked by the torture video. It’s not just gruesome. It’s plain wrong. Cassie, how could you?”
“But I didn’t torture them.”
“But you tried to. You had the knife in your hand. You were ready to. What happened to you, to turn you into something so, so…”
“Okay!” She snapped back, out of his arms. “Yes. I almost did those things myself.”
“But that’s not where it ended. You stood there and did nothing while our Mossad helpmates did the deed for you.”
Her head fell and tears poured out. “Stop! I know what I did. What they did. But, Lee, it gave us a chance to keep millions from dying. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He had no answer, but remained inches from her, moving closer. She wanted to push him away now, but he held up one hand. “I’m not done. The reason I’m so troubled about this is, well, you see, knowing what you are capable of… Sheesh, it scares me.” He took a deep breath. “It’s so important because, well, when we worked at the agency, long before we began this journey, I had a major crush on you. You already know that, and you know I think you’re beautiful. And now, after spending so much time with you, I’m deeply in love with you. Just know that.” He hugged her.
She could imagine the look of shock he found on her face.
Lee backed away. “The shower.” He handed her a stack of clothing and a towel. “Up two flights and take the first left past the elevator. Get back as soon as you can. I think there’s something going on in the conference room. When I passed it, people were shouting at each other.” He kissed her lips hard and sent her on her way.
She tottered toward the staircase. Two floors up, Cassie entered the hallway and opened the bathroom door. She locked the door and stripped, placing all her dirty clothing in a small pile.
Cassie didn’t find any shampoo. There must be some, but she was impatient, eager to get back to work. She washed her body and cleaned her hair with the bar of soap she found in the shower. Leaving the shower she found deodorant in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom. It was made to appeal to men but she didn’t care. The clothing Lee found was too big, an Israeli army sergeant’s shirt and pants. Damn. He hadn’t looked in the right place to find something her size. She’d just have to make do. Cassie sighed, dressed and then rolled up the sleeves and pants. Must have been the uniform of a massive brute.