Spies Lie Series Box Set
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Twice she’d taken bathroom breaks, but once she’d fallen asleep on the toilet seat. Lee entered the women’s room to fetch her. It was the only sleep she’d had in over two days.
Lee acted as her assistant and helpmate. His computer connected to the agency’s mainframe. He searched the mainframe terminal for encryption methodologies known by the agency, hoping to match them to those found on the Houmaz brothers’ hard disk, now lodged within her computer. Cassie used a high-end computer to troll the Internet, trying to find a decryption methodology that could render the files.
Whenever Cassie drifted, Lee gently grabbed her hand and smiled at her, encouraging her not to fade. When she finally slipped into unconsciousness and slid from the chair, he caught her. “Come back, sweet. I know you need rest but not just yet. Please. We have to fix this before it ends us all,” he said, holding her. Lee’s nose sniffed her body. “Cassie, when’d you last see the inside of a shower? Yuck!” But he was still there, next to her.
The awful expression he bore on his face made her laugh. “About a week ago. I know. I smell like the back end of a camel. Sorry, Lee. Uh, please see if there’s anything on your mainframe matching this technique.”
Lee looked at his screen. “Nope. Move on to the next one.”
In their first hour of work they discovered the techniques Houmaz used were a hybrid of several of which the agency had no knowledge and no way to crack. But they found information about many of the techniques on hacker blogs and websites.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
September 13, 2:32 p.m.
Israeli Embassy, 3514 International Drive NW, Washington, DC
Cassie began to realize she was outclassed. With her current knowledge she couldn’t decipher the files, and she had no way of learning enough to fill the gaps within the amount of time remaining. She accepted defeat and felt the weight of it, plus guilt at millions of additional deaths hanging in the balance. All that death heaped on her. Especially after bragging that she could break the encryption.
“Wait a second,” she muttered. “One of these techniques looks like something a hacker somewhere in Silicon Valley claimed in his résumé about three months ago, when we staffed Kahuna.” She thought for a few seconds more and then smiled as her memory scored a hit. “His name is W. Wing. He lives in Hong Kong and his call-sign is ‘CryptoMonger.’ I think he can be found at this email address…” She sent an email message from the well-tapped Israeli computer, not caring about the consequences. The message contained an attachment with one of the problem files:
CryptoMonger—Need help. I’m familiar with your skills from Project Kahuna. Attached is an encrypted file using an algorithm I am not familiar with. Could you tell me anything to help make this file decipherable? I hacked it off a computer 8,000 miles away, and that computer is no longer available.—Swiftshadow.
While she waited for a reply, she continued working with Lee to see if they could determine the separations among the logical segments of the encryption algorithm. But, it was hopeless.
Chapter Forty
September 14, 7:02 a.m.
Israeli Embassy, 3514 International Drive NW, Washington, DC
Cassie and Lee kept trying to crack the encryption while they waited for William Wing’s reply. She knew he was their only hope.
A few minutes later, the computer bleeped with an incoming email.
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:
WeaponPieceTruckRoute
11.1—Timer1Canada, Toronto, 401E to 81S, then 95 to DC
11.2—Detonator2Canada, 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
11.3—Foil3Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then
95S to DC1
11.4—Bullet Tube4Canada, 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
11.5—Bomb Casing5Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then
95S to DC
11.6—Tamper6Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then
95S to DC
11.7—Plastic Foam Filler7Mexico, Nogales, 19N to Tucson, 10E, 25N, 70E, then
95S to DC
11.8—Fissionable MaterialNONEOther Arrangements
WeaponPieceTruckRoute
22.1—TimerLAX (Los Angeles)LA, CA 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
22.2—DetonatorLAXLA, CA 10E, 25N, 70E, then 95S to DC
22.3—FoilMIA (MIAMI)Miami, FL, 95 to DC
22.4—Bullet TubeMIAMiami, FL, 95 to DC
22.5—Bomb CasingORD (OHARE)Chicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
22.6—TamperORDChicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
22.7—Plastic Foam FillerORDChicago, IL, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to DC
22.8—Fissionable MaterialNONEOther Arrangements
WeaponPieceMilitary BaseRoute
33.1—TimerWhidbey, WASeattl
e, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to
DC
33.2—DetonatorWhidbey, WASeattle, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to
DC
33.3—FoilWhidbey, WASeattle, WA, 90E, 39E, 65S, 70E, 79S, 68E, 270S to
DC
33.4—Bullet TubePensacola, FLMiami, FL, 95 to DC
33.5—Bomb CasingPensacola, FLMiami, FL, 95 to DC
33.6—TamperNorfolk Naval, VAWashington, Dulles
33.7—Plastic Foam FillerNorfolk Naval, VAWashington, Dulles
33.8—Fissionable MaterialNONEOther 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 Four
Chapter Forty-One
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 looking 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 th
e 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.