by Brandt Legg
“We’re after whoever killed my father!”
“Yes, yes, but we have to unravel this whole thing.”
Chase didn’t respond, because at that moment he received an encrypted message from Dez about the meeting with Lenny. Someone had dropped a handwritten note at Balance with names and meeting details.
“It is all connected,” the Astronaut said. “Including the mystery of how the Bombers are able to inflict complete destruction on their targets.”
“I’ve been working on a theory,” Chase said.
“Wait,” the Astronaut interrupted. “Allow me to introduce you to Paul Ryker and James Damon.” Ryker and Damon appeared on the Antimatter Machine’s monitor. “These are the men who killed your father.”
After the total annihilation of the Come Freedom Militia in Idaho, Tess prepared for the media storm. Although the remoteness of the militia’s compound meant it might take a day before the story snowballed, she needed to be well ahead of it.
As it turned out, as with all things related to the Fire Bomber, it took mere hours before the media began harassing Washington contacts. And among the powerful in Washington, the most well plugged-in ones called her. One of them was the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense.
“Are we done? Were they the group?” he asked.
Tess, who assumed the Secretary of Defense, who had approved the mission, had already briefed the Under Secretary, was annoyed by the question. But he was one of the horUS nine, so she told him what she’d just said to the President.
“We won’t begin to know until morning. If there is no Fire Bomber strike tonight, that’ll be quite a good sign. But even if something is hit tonight, that doesn’t mean we got the wrong group because orders could have already been in place.”
“Then the Bomber, or Bombers, are still a problem.”
“They’ll be taken care of. Recent intel tells us there may only be one. Either way, he, she, or they, will be found.”
The Under Secretary didn’t trust Tess, the CIA, or the President, for that matter. He knew that the most powerful entity on earth was the Pentagon. He trusted the US military and its multiple internal intelligence agencies, and horUS.
“Meantime,” the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense began, “I’ve got a meeting this afternoon with Google.”
“Bad timing.”
“They’re worried.”
“For good reason,” Tess said, knowing that the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense was in charge of Platform and Weapon Portfolio Management for the Pentagon, meaning more than anyone, he had the point on horUS. She also knew he didn’t like her—or anyone, for that matter.
Google had helped the Defense Department with Project Maven, a controversial program employing AI to automatically tag cars, buildings, and other objects in videos recorded by drones flying over international conflict zones. But after pressure from employees who claimed the search firm would be, in effect, aiding “the military ‘track and kill’ with greater efficiency,” the company did not renew the contract. Google’s involvement in horUS had, therefore, been kept a highly classified secret. Normally it would have been handled by the Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence, the Defense Department directorate that oversaw such programs, but when horUS was conceived, the top officials, including the Secretary of Defense, knew only one man inside the Pentagon could handle the project and keep it secret: the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense. He’d been a fixture behind the scenes in Washington for decades, and there were not many covert operations of note in which he did not have a hand.
Fifty-Five
After an eighteen-minute drive from Los Angeles Airport, Chase pulled into an endless parking lot outside the abandoned 800,000 square foot shopping mall where they were set to meet Lenny. The mall, closed for more than twenty years, appeared dilapidated, a relic of the pre-internet world, something out of an urban war zone—a place that could easily be haunted, if one believed in such things.
“How do we get in?” they asked simultaneously.
Circling the massive edifice twice before selecting the most promising section, Chase parked and gave a sad look back at their rental car, wondering if it would be there when he and Wen returned.
They scoured the area and found some old pipes and a piece of rusty culvert that looked as if wayward teens, vandals, and gangs might have used the artifacts for the same purpose when trying to gain access to the abandoned mall. Propping the pipes and bracing the culvert in such a way, Chase was able to climb up to a narrow ledge, pulling Wen up behind him. The barriers to keep people out were challenging, but they served only to slow more determined intruders.
They shimmied along the narrow ledge until reaching a hole in the wall they’d spotted from below. Wen slipped through easily, but Chase had to do a few contortionist moves to squeeze in, where he joined Wen on the remnants of a bent and twisted catwalk.
“I don’t really have a good feeling about this,” Chase said as he swung down on the bottom of the steel grid and dropped nearly twelve feet to a dusty concrete floor.
Wen touched down, cat-like, next to him, springing into a defensive pose, as she’d been trained. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” she asked, really meaning where was his sense of humor. She worried that the rage and anger he’d been holding onto so tightly would get in the way if they encountered trouble tonight.
“The only adventure I’m interested in is finding the son of the bitch who killed my father.”
Wen shined a light into the vast darkness. “Just remember this is all part of that. If we do this right, one step at a time, it’ll lead us not just to Ryker, but whoever employs him.”
“Then let’s find this hacker weasel and get out of here. They’re supposed to be at the four fountains at the bottom of the two big escalators.”
“There’s not exactly a mall directory handy,” Wen said. “And obviously the fountains aren’t going to be running.”
“Never underestimate a Malone,” Chase said, pulling out a computer tablet. He tapped the screen a few times and a map of the mall’s interior displayed.
“Impressive,” Wen said, patting his back. “I don’t suppose it has a little red you are here arrow on it?”
“No, but I think we can figure out where we are based on—”
“Hey! Who the hell invited you to my house?”
Wen spun her light and illuminated a scraggly old geezer leaning against a wall of graffiti. She quickly assessed his threat level to be low. Obviously he was homeless.
“This cannot be our hacker,” Chase said under his breath, praying it wasn’t.
“Get that light out of my eyes,” the man shouted, pawing his hands into the air, trying to shoo the light. “No room here for you!”
“We have reservations,” Chase said, moving away.
“You got nothing!” the man yelled, throwing an empty cardboard box at them. “This ain’t no hotel. Get out of my house, or I’ll call the cops!”
Wen laughed. “Call them. We might need them.”
“Bah!” The man tossed an empty bottle at them. It shattered a couple feet in front of Chase, who turned as if he were going back.
Wen grabbed his arm. “We’ve got enough battles.”
They made their way through the winding corridor into one of the main hallways, this one filled with old rusted shelving units and stripped-down display stands that now resembled dangerous medieval torture devices. Finally, they reached what they’d been searching for—the top of the main escalator.
“It’s a long way down,” Chase said, shining his light into the inky blackness.
“Do you think there might be sharks down there?” Wen joked.
“You never know,” Chase said as they descended into what felt like the murky depths of an underwater shipwreck.
Fifty-Six
Wen kept her finger ready on the trigger as they reached the last still-steps at the bottom of the busted escalator. Chase held a gun pointed ahea
d, more ready to use it than he’d ever been, although still not sure which hand to keep it in.
“Who’s that?” came a voice from the darkness.
“Who are you?” Wen asked.
“It’s Lenny.”
“Mars sent us,” Chase said impatiently.
“Okay, okay.” A light shined up at them.
“Get that damn light out of my eyes,” Chase snapped, remembering the homeless man’s protests.
“Skrunch, move the beam away!”
Lenny and Skrunch stepped out from behind a collapsing plywood wall near the gritty, forgotten fountain basins.
“Thanks for coming,” Lenny said, holding out his hand.
“This had better be worth it,” Chase said, ignoring Lenny’s offer.
Wen held the light close to Lenny, and then to Skrunch. She stared at the hackers, deciding quickly they were no physical threat. In fact, they looked awful, and it concerned her.
“Follow me,” Skrunch said, heading toward a small, empty store sandwiched between two cavernous vacant spaces, one of which might’ve been a department store.
“Where are we going?” Chase asked.
“Somewhere a little more private,” Lenny said, limping.
“No,” Chase said, waving his arm around. “We don’t mind the crowds out here.”
“Okay, okay,” Lenny said. “Skrunch, grab the other laptop.”
She ran into the store and disappeared through a door in the back. Expanding the illumination of the flashlights each of them held, additional light filtered down through massive skylights that had once made the mall a modern, cheery retail palace instead of a Draconian maze. Strangely, a glow from the parking lot’s lights reflected in, casting an eerie, pale green hue to the dystopian chambers.
“Freeze,” Wen said as Lenny reached into a canvass messenger bag on his shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his arms. “I was just getting my laptop.”
“What’s she getting?” Wen said, pointing in the direction where Skrunch had gone.
“Another one.”
“You need two?” Chase asked.
“Yeah, because we—”
“Just get it,” Chase said.
“Slowly,” Wen added, still aiming her gun at him.
“Okay, okay,” he said, reaching in carefully and pulling out his computer.” He held the machine in his hands, pushed a few buttons, and sighed, in apparent relief, as it came to life.
“What’s the other laptop for?” Chase asked.
“Like I tried to tell you,” Lenny began. “This one’s got your data on it. The other one is for your payment.”
“I’m not paying anything until you show it to us.”
“Didn’t Mars tell you I’m cool?”
“Mars vouched for you, but seeing how he’s in prison, I need a little reassurance.”
“Same here,” Lenny said, backing up, as if to protect the data. “I just can’t go all the way with that. If you see what I got, then you might know enough to not need the rest.”
“You’re telling me one peek is worth half a million?”
“Easily.” Lenny stared at Chase.
Chase looked at Wen.
“I can shoot you now, and we can just take it,” Wen said.
“That’s not how we play this. Until I type in the password, you got nothing.”
“I’m pretty good with computers,” Chase said. “Not sure I need you.”
“You do.” Lenny stared again, almost pleadingly.
“Then I’ll trust you,” Chase finally said, deciding the guy might be legit. “But if I’m not completely amazed . . . ”
“You will be, you will be,” Lenny said, relaxing a bit. “As soon as I see half the cash hit my account, I’ll give you the data. Then you check it and send the other half.”
“No deal,” Chase said.
“It’s fair, man. I’m trusting you halfway, you trust me halfway.”
“Mars said this man has something,” Wen said. “We’ve come all this way. Let’s trust him and see what he has. She raised her gun inches from Lenny and pointed it at his head. “If he doesn’t have anything, or he tries to cheat us, I’ll kill him, and then her.” Wen moved the gun away toward Skrunch, who was now jogging back to them with a laptop, its screen already glowing.
Chase fished a phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “Adya, it’s me. I want to send that two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollars to this account.” He looked up at Lenny.
Skrunch traded laptops with Lenny, who then read the account number to Chase. After Chase finished telling Adya the information, she asked him three questions that only he could answer. If he was under duress, she’d know.
Chase asked Adya to hold on while he looked at the data.
“Wait, I can’t seem to—” Lenny said.
Wen cocked her gun.
Chase was growing impatient. He already knew why the Fire Bombers had declared war. SEER was busy narrowing down the list even further. They even had the next three targets. “We only came here because you’re supposed to have this earth-shattering information,” Chase said. “You’ve got ten seconds to produce it.”
“Hold on, hold on, I’m not the computer guy. I just can’t find it. But it’s here.”
Mars told me this guy had critical data I needed, Chase thought. But Mars is in prison, and although he has his finger on the pulse of criminals and the shadow worlds, this is way above him—espionage, government conspiracies, trillions of dollars at stake, and potentially a revolution.
“Can you help?” Lenny asked Skrunch. She leaned in and began offering suggestions.
Yeah, this is all theatre, Chase thought. Mars might've gotten this one wrong. I probably just blew a quarter million on a pair of grungy hackers. This is just a high tech shakedown. I’m going to let Wen waste this guy.
“Just a few more seconds,” Lenny said, working the keys with Skrunch.
Suddenly, the musty silence was shattered by a series of loud crashes.
Wen spun just in time to take a blow across her chest.
Fifty-Seven
Wen realized immediately that the object that had hit her chest was an empty bottle, but it still hurt. Her initial impulse to shoot the homeless man throwing bottles gave way to rational thinking based on her training. Less than ninety seconds later, she had him subdued, tied up, and after his constant rants, taped his mouth shut.
Chase never took his eyes off Lenny and the laptop. He knew Wen could handle things, and wasn’t surprised that she carried a small roll of duct tape and zip-ties in her pack.
“Here it is,” Lenny finally said, tilting the laptop toward Chase. “Read right there.”
Chase scanned the first two paragraphs quickly, not expecting anything more than what the Astronaut had already provided. However, it didn’t take long to realize this was something more.
“Oh my God,” Chase said, in a voice he could barely recognize as his own. “How much is here?”
“All of it, man.”
Chase began opening files and clicking on documents. His eyes filled with Defense Department memorandums, CIA strategies, covert studies, cross agency deep-data, classified aerial photographs, vendor lists, and more. It was astonishing, and worth millions, even billions, more than he’d paid.
Yet with all that, the items that caused him to look over his shoulder as if he were about to get shot were a cache of previously encrypted—now unencrypted—emails. The correspondence, seemingly lengthy and detailed, was between nine people—the President of the United States, the Defense Secretary . . .
I can’t believe the power behind this thing, he thought as he quickly read through several of them. What the hell?
He saw two names he knew well—Tess Federgreen and Travis Watts.
No wonder Tess is desperate to find out who the Fire Bomber is. The Bomber’s trying to stop this—trying to stop them. The Fire Bomber knows their names, and can blow up a lot more than just buildings.
And then he saw the critical code word, the thing he most needed to know in order to rip it all apart: horUS.
“This looks good,” Chase said, playing it cool. “You got a flash drive for me?”
Skrunch handed him a flash drive.
“I’m going to have to keep the laptop, too,” Chase said, slipping it into his pack.
“Hey, man, for half a million bucks, you can have the laptop and my Nikes if you want them.”
Chase pushed a button on his phone. “Adya, go ahead and send the remaining two-fifty.”
Skrunch handed the other laptop to Lenny. After a few keystrokes he had the screen up waiting for confirmation that the funds had transferred.
Wen heard a noise and fanned her gun in that direction.
“It’s cool,” Skrunch said. “Probably your homeless dude again.”
Wen, ignoring her, took a few steps and clicked on the flashlight she’d attached to her gun with electrical tape.
“What’s taking so long?” Lenny asked nervously.
“Adya?” Chase asked into his phone. He listened for a moment. “She says it’s gone and she has a receipt number, it should be showing up on your end already.”
Lenny continued to stare at the screen.
“Refresh your damned browser,” Skrunch muttered.
“That did it,” Lenny said. “Confirmed. We’re golden. Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Yeah,” Chase said. “One word of advice: don’t try selling this again. You somehow lived through this one. If you raise this to anyone else, you won’t be so lucky.”
“Are you threatening us?” Skrunch asked.
“I’m promising you,” Chase said in a deadly tone.
“Let’s go,” Lenny said.
“My bag’s in the storeroom,” Skrunch said, walking in that direction.
Chase found Wen ten feet into the darkness. “Anything?” he asked.
“Something isn’t right. Get your gun ready.”
“The deal was true. They weren’t screwing us.”