Devlin Sub Rosa: Book Three of the Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  “Really? Hadn't heard about that one.”

  “I forget the name of it, but I can probably find it when I get back to my PC.”

  “No sweat, no rush. Just another conspiracy theory. No telling what's true until the facts are found.”

  “If ever.”

  “Got that right, Ro. If ever.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “That kid's coming back and he's got a couple of big buddies with him.”

  “Well, well. A glutton for punishment.”

  “But three of 'em, Gordy?”

  “Yup. Guess I'd best stand up for this.”

  “Want some help getting up?”

  “Yeah, that'd be good. Ah, thanks. Now, call 911 and let 'em know there's a brawl going on here. And see if they can send Sgt. Dooley, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And then stand back and record this, okay? Hey, Carie, Sharon, Rona, Joe, can you all get your phones out and start recording? Great, thanks.

  “And Norm, toss me that football, willya?”

  - 55 -

  June 18, 2013

  2:37 p.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “I wish I could give you a one-sentence answer to that, Pam.”

  “But it's complicated, right?”

  “Not only right, but SO right – oh, and left, too.

  “I think I maybe can give you a one-sentence description of their goals.”

  “Should I get my notepad?”

  “Nah; you've got that photogenic memory.”

  “Photographic, Jake, photographic.”

  “Oh, right. It's YOU that's photogenic … especially lying there like that.”

  “Want me to put the suit back on?”

  “Nah, it's good for my old eyes; I like you with no tan lines.

  “Anyhow, there are many different groups, but the one thing they share is the goal of world domination, a one-world government, with the elite, them, at the top and everybody else being little more than serfs. But they don't want to go so far in that direction that the serfs rise up and take off their heads, so to speak.”

  “Like the French Revolution.”

  “Right. You've heard this one, I'll bet. 'Sire, the peasants are revolting!' 'Indeed they are; and they smell, too.'”

  “Oh, good one, Jake. Nope, hadn't heard that before.”

  “Anyhow, you remember Marie Antoinette's classic line, 'Let them eat cake.' She went too far, so the other groups needed to take her out, so they fomented dissent and instigated the whole thing and watched from a distance. Sort of like I did when I was working the college campuses way back when for my puppet-masters in what I thought was the flag-waving, patriotic CIA. When I started to suspect there were other people and other motives behind some of my ops, especially the Kent State sniper assignment, I got a little – no, not a little – a LOT paranoid. And that's when I began planning to get out and see what I could find out about these clowns from the outside.”

  “Clowns?”

  “Yeah, clowns. When I finally got bugs into what seems like the innermost circles, I found out that they botch more stuff than they succeed at, and there are sub-groups that work at cross-purposes and try to subvert each other's ops. You oughta hear the stuff we've gotten at their conferences, especially what I call the Bilderbuggers one.”

  “You've got bugs in there?”

  “Yup, and in Davos, Sun Valley, Las Vegas – well, most of the venues. O-P has built a huge clientele over the last – what? – forty years, not only individuals and businesses, but also hotels, country clubs, and resorts all around the world. And we go a lot deeper than even the NSA does, stuck as they are with just looking at metadata.

  “We've got algorithms that look for thousands of words, phrases and code words in phone calls, emails, social media, anything and everything you can think of, and spit out screens and screens of real-time conversations, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, all prioritized according to what we might be looking for at any given time.”

  “That's got to be a massive database you've got.”

  “Yeah, but we also use the idle processing capacity on people's computers all around the world.”

  “Do they know about that?”

  “Nope. And we can break through any, and I mean any, security software, but we don't do any harm to anybody's PC, don't take any private information, just piggyback on 'em in the background. We've also moved a lot of our storage and programming to the cloud.”

  “Is it secure?”

  “Of course. Never had a break or a leak or any successful hacks into it.”

  “But you've got to have huge numbers of people watching those screens.”

  “We do have a lot of techs doing that, but we've vetted 'em and pay 'em all very, very well. And a lot of it is automated, so only the highest-priority stuff gets through to Amber's staff, and then only some of that comes to me, when she needs me to make a decision.”

  “So what kinds of decisions do you make?”

  - 56 -

  March 16, 2014

  5:46 p.m. local time

  Collier County Sheriff's Substation

  North Naples, Florida

  “'That's the old fucker. Get him!'”

  “'Three of you against just me? Unfair odds, don't you think?'”

  “'Watch him, guys. He may be old, but he's tricky. Okay, go!'”

  “'Slow learner, huh? Okay, who's first? Really? All of you at once? Okay. Here!'”

  “'Fuck!'”

  “'Oof!'”

  “'Ow! Shit!'”

  “'Woh! Ow! Leggo my wrist! You fucker!'”

  “Wait a second. Back that up and play it again, Billy.”

  “Sure, Sarge. Far enough?”

  “Yeah, that's good.”

  “Okay. Ready?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “'All of you at once? Okay. Here!'”

  “'Fuck!'”

  “'Oof!'”

  “'Ow! Shit!'”

  “'Woh! Ow! Leggo my wrist! You fucker!'”

  “That's good; pause it there, Billy.

  “Did you see that, Lieutenant?”

  “Play it again, Billy, with the sound off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That was fast. Wow. How old is he again?”

  “Ah, 67, Loo.”

  “He's had training, lots of it.”

  “He says not, sir, just some coaching for his book from a woman at the beach who teaches martial arts.”

  “Bullshit. He's too fast and too good. Throwing the football in the biggest guy's face, then kicking the second biggest in the gut, and then kicking the first guy in the knee while grabbing the last guy's wrist, that's classic krav maga technique.”

  “Krav what?”

  “Krav maga. Israeli hand-to-hand combat; very aggressive, Sarge.

  “Play it again, Billy, and time it.”

  “Yes, sir. Okay. Ah, 3.4 seconds, sir.”

  “Like I said, classic.

  “Have we heard from the hospital yet, Tom?”

  “Yes, sir, Loo. Shattered knee and broken nose on the first guy, ruptured spleen on the second, broken wrist and some fingers on the third.”

  “And 67 years old? Less than four seconds? He's definitely got some serious training, not just a little bit of coaching for some book.”

  “Not somebody you'd want to meet in a dark alley.”

  “Well, I sure do want to meet him, Tom. Bring him in.”

  “Are we gonna charge him, Loo?”

  “Nothing to charge him with; clear self-defense. No, I just want to look him in the eyes, see if I can suss out where he learned all that.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure, Tom. You've met him.”

  “You might have better luck talking with him outside, not here in the station; you know, casual like.”

  “Like in a coffee shop or something?”

  “Something like that, some
thing not official. After that crap with the fake FBI guys last year, he's a little skittish about getting dragged off anywhere.”

  “Oh, right. I heard he was lucky to get out of that alive.”

  “Very lucky.”

  “Maybe more than lucky.”

  “What's that, Corporal?”

  “Yeah, what do you mean by that, Billy?”

  “Well, uh, Sarge, Lieutenant, there were some things in his story about it that didn't add up, according to my cousin; he's a detective with Lee County.”

  “What things?”

  “I don't have all the details, but Colin told me the forensics didn't fit completely with his statements about what happened at the end. Something about GSR and trajectories. But he only got a glance at the reports before the feebs took over.”

  “GSR and trajectories? Did Lee County or the feds do the analysis?”

  “I don't know, Sarge; probably both.”

  “Can you get your cousin to get us a copy of the reports?”

  “I don't know, Sarge; I think he's off the case now.”

  “Not a problem, Corporal. I'll get Dana to request one from them and the feds.”

  “You may have to tell her that GSR stands for Gun Shot Residue, Loo.”

  “Ah, right, Tom. I'll make the call myself, and I'll get a copy of that guy's statement, too. And once I've gone over those, we'll set up a way for me to meet that guy.”

  “Sounds good, Loo. Anything I can do, I will.

  “And Billy, thanks for your help.”

  “No problem, Sarge.”

  “Shoot me a copy of that video, too, Corporal.”

  “Will do, Lieutenant.”

  “All right. Back to work, everybody. Chop-chop.”

  - 57 -

  June 18, 2013

  2:37 p.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “What kinds of – oh, Pam, before I say anything, I gotta remind you that none of this can EVER be published or leaked in any way, shape or form.”

  “Lips are sealed.”

  “You talked about red flags in front of angry bulls, but when they're as paranoid, short-fused and thin-skinned as they are, letting them know some of the stuff I know or any of the stuff I've done would be a VERY big red flag.”

  “You also said their usual method of dealing with something like that is assassination.”

  “Right. And I sure don't want any of that to feed over onto you, put you in danger in any way. Or JJ.”

  “Or JJ.”

  “Have you talked with her lately?”

  “Just a couple times since she left. She's doing okay, still doing the fundraising, and her sex life is a whole lot better since she was here.”

  “Bravo for her.”

  “And for you, Jake.”

  “Don't make me blush, Pam; I still have dreams about that night.”

  “'By dug id dub.'”

  “Oh, right. Every time I remember that, it cracks me up. Poor JJ.”

  “That was funny. But all in all, she had a great time, and finally had a few orgasms.”

  “A few? What'd we count? Ten in ten minutes?”

  “Right. First ones in thirty years, she said.”

  “No wonder they were so explosive.”

  “Yeah.

  “So what kinds of decisions do you make?”

  “Well, back in the early days, we didn't have much to go on, so it was mostly figuring out who we could bug next, who might have been mentioned in the stuff we were getting, and then we'd put them on the prospect list for the security installs or upgrades, and we'd close maybe sixty percent or so at first, but as our reputation grew and we got referrals, we gradually picked up some people we hadn't even suspected prior to listening to their conversations. So basically all we could do was listen and build out our files.

  “But now that we've got so many bugs out there and we're getting so much information every day – hell, every hour -- we can only deal with a tiny percentage of it, but when there's something that sounds like it's a conspiracy that goes after the sovereignty of any nation in the world or tries to impose oppression on any people of any nation, or maybe an impending attack on an embassy or some institution, that's the kind of thing that comes to me, and I decide whether to just stand by and observe or try to intervene in some way.”

  “Intervene?”

  “Sometimes, when I can figure out a way to do that. Remember I told you about that guy in Medellin that we took out?”

  “Oh, what was – right; El Oso, killed by his pet liger.”

  “We intervened by sending his conversations to the CIA and the Colombian intelligence service, and they contracted with us to kill him before he could attack the US embassy and the federal court down there. They didn't know who they were hiring, of course, but they knew us by reputation and had used us before – well, by 'us,' I mean some of our assassins, using different names from my collection. And they didn't cross-connect, so we got three separate contracts out of that one bit of surveillance. We tested one of our new ideas, sent a high-frequency audio signal into the room, and it turned that cross-bred beast into a killing machine.”

  “Your systems can do that?”

  “Yup; full duplex. We can also send a signal to any television that's hooked into our system, override what's really being broadcast, and create whatever 'reality' we want there, even duplicate all the news anchors from any network in any language.

  “Sometimes I'll try to put out some disinformation of one kind or another to counter what the cabal guys are trying to do, or we'll take an active role in exposing what they're doing, or just try to throw a monkey wrench in their plans.

  “In fact, we're working on one of those right now, protecting the guy that just blew the whistle on the NSA surveillance in the USA and all around the world. But we're doing that under the radar, totally anonymously. He's not even aware of who it is that's helping him. We've been trying to find a place where he can go from Hong Kong, and we think we've got that worked out now. Spiriting him out of HK isn't all that difficult, but he's kind of a loose cannon, wants to keep shooting his mouth off and exposing more and more stuff; no real plan. So we've got to have somebody shepherding him.”

  “Was that the phone call you had with Amber yesterday?”

  “Hmm? Oh, right, right.”

  “Somebody named Arkady, I think you said.”

  “Right. He's got lots of experience in containing loose cannons.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. Ever heard of Yevgeni Smirikovitch?”

  “Uh, nope, can't say I have.”

  “Of course not. Arkady contained him – well, fully contained him.”

  “You mean” –

  “Yup. Pfft.”

  - 58 -

  June 22, 2013

  11:23 a.m. local time

  Undisclosed location

  “So is your headache better, Frau Rona?”

  “Yeah. Took a couple of Tyrelons; all gone.”

  “Extra-Strengz?”

  “Yeah; they work fast.”

  “Okay, Doc, we talked with Greg and Julie and they confirmed that your gizmo works, but only has a max of ninety minutes back.”

  “So he told you about ze coffee cup?”

  “Yeah, he did. And he tried to explain the math, but it was way beyond me.”

  “Ja, ja, it is seoretical matt, not practical engineering matt. Abstract, not, uh, concrete. Concrete, right, Rona?”

  “Yeah, concrete, right.”

  “But you told us you got back to 1954.”

  “Ja, ja. But I kept zat to myself, especially after zose Nazis began funding me.”

  “How did you know they were Nazis?”

  “I did not know at ze beginning, but I knew somesing was strange about ze vay zey acted. I did not find out zey vere really Nazis until about sree years ago. Zey stayed anon- – ach, was is zat vort?”

  “Anonymous?”

  “Ja, ja, danke, Rona; anonymous. I only knew
zat an anonymous foundation promised me zwanzig – ach, sorry, twenty years of funding. Und zey haf kept zat promise.”

  “So how did you find out they were Nazis?”

  “I searched ze overseer's briefcase venn he vas in ze bassroom.”

  “Okay. And – what's so funny?”

  “Sorry, Herr Joel; I vas just – I put some QvikLax in his tea.”

  “Some what?”

  “QvikLax, Frau Rona.”

  “QuikLax; that's the stuff they give you to clean you out before you get a colonoscopy. Remember when I had mine?”

  “Right. You were in there all night.”

  “So, Doc, what'd you find in the briefcase?”

  “Oh, ja. I found some papers zat proved zat ze foundation vas run by second- und sird-generation Nazis, und zey vere only funding me so zey could send a bomb back to 1945, to Yalta.”

  “Yalta?”

  “Ja, ja, Rona, Yalta, in Crimea, to kill Roosevelt, Churchill und Stalin so ze Nazis could vin ze var und dominate ze whole vorld under zeir Sird Reich.”

  “Another police state.”

  “Ja; same sing as Fardunkoff's. Und he put his capital in Yalta.”

  “No, really?”

  “Ja, really.”

  “Crimea? Wasn't there something in one of our weekly briefing papers about Putin and Crimea? Something about him wanting to get Crimea back into the Russian Federation?”

  “Yeah, I saw that, Rona. And parts of the Ukraine, too.”

  “Ach, zat Putin. He is, how you say, the devil incontinent.”

  “Incarnate, Doc, incarnate.”

  “Ja, okay; incarnate. Ze devil incarnate. He vants to rebuild ze old Soviet Union to its former glory.”

  “As a superpower.”

  “Ja, ja. Und he vants Belarus, Kazakstan, Georgia und all ze rest.”

  “But piecemeal.”

  “Piecemeal?”

  “One at a time.”

  “Ach, ja, vun at a time; piecemeal. He is patient, und sinks ten, tventy moves ahead of O'Bama.”

  “Y'got that right, Doc. Outmaneuvers him at every turn.”

  “Ja, ja. He is very much like Fardunkoff. Smart, calculating und focused, vis no conscience.”