by Brad Taylor
Jennifer had begun moving before he was done, reaching the camera in seconds. She heard Johnny say, “Then what?” followed by Pike’s “How should I know? One step at a time.”
She found the wire with the red stripe leading out of the camera. Should be the data line. She pulled out the slave unit, a device the size of an average pager with a small antenna on the side. On the bottom were two claws designed to cut through the insulation to the metal beneath. She clamped the unit onto the wire, seeing a blinking red light. This is great. The alarm’s going to go off and I’m going to have a spotlight on my ass like a bad King Kong movie.
She watched the man drill, her stomach knotting up. She saw the slave unit begin blinking alternately green and red, meaning it had the data line and was doing an encrypted handshake with Johnny’s receiver. She knew once it went pure green, it would take a few seconds for the hacking team in Washington, D.C., to gain control. Come on, come on. The man pulled back, shaking his hands and resting for a couple of seconds. Then he returned to the lock.
Knuckles, Bull, and I were just outside the front door, where I could see the leads to an alarm system. How the hell did that guy get in?
Knuckles was grinning a little. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
I nudged Bull. “Time to beat your record.”
He pulled out a lockpick kit and selected a couple of tools. We could have used something like an electric rake gun, but those types of things left marks, and we were supposed to be in and out without any evidence. Luckily, Bull was the fastest I had ever seen at cracking an unknown lock mechanically. He could go through five doors in the time it took me to do one.
While he inserted the tools into the bolt lock, Knuckles and I slid a piece of Kevlar fabric that looked like a deflated tube balloon between the joint of the door and wall, just underneath the knob. Once Bull opened the bolt lock, we’d inflate the balloon using a compressed CO2 cartridge, which would separate the joint far enough apart to spring the doorknob with a screwdriver.
We waited for the all-clear from Johnny, like a NASCAR pit crew. I heard Jennifer say, “I’ve got green. Shut it off. Shut it off. He’s leaning into the drill. He’s close.”
Johnny said, “We’re working it. Hold on.”
Not enough time. I whispered to Knuckles and Bull, “Get ready to run to the drainpipe. Looks like a hot exfil.”
Jennifer came back on. “Shit. He’s in.”
17
J
ennifer watched the thief kick open the door. She tensed, waiting for the earsplitting sound of an alarm. She started when she heard Johnny through her earpiece instead. “I have control. The alarm’s off. I can see both the two outside and the asshole inside.”
She sagged against the wall, watching the man run inside with his hammer and sack. After a few steps, he stopped, looking at the ceiling and wondering why the alarm hadn’t triggered. Then he sauntered over to the first glass case and smashed it with a hammer. Reaching inside, he began stuffing his sack.
Pike came on. “All elements, we’re going to take care of the burglar, then get Jennifer inside the building through a window. We’ll exfil together out the front.”
Seeing the bars on the windows of the jewelry wholesaler, Jennifer said, “Pike, the windows here are sealed for security. I can get down to the second floor without those guys seeing me. Then you wouldn’t have to mess with the burglar.”
“Sorry. I’m not helping these assholes clean out that jewelry store. We shut off the alarm for them. Find another window while we deal with him.”
Huh. Didn’t expect that. She looked up and saw a window above her cracked a few inches. “The fourth floor’s good. I see an open window.”
“Okay. We’re inside. Wait until I call again, then meet us in the jewelry store.”
Johnny cut in. “Koko, didn’t you say the travel agency was on the fourth floor?”
Jennifer clicked once, not stopping her climb.
“You still have the thumb drive?”
Now on the fourth-floor ledge, she stopped and said, “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”
She snaked through the window and retraced her steps from a few days ago. Within short order, she was inside Noordin’s office, waking up his computer. When it came to life, she saw a password screen. She shut down the computer, inserted the thumb drive, and rebooted. When the screen came back up, she was inside his system. She accessed the Internet and typed in the Web page Johnny had given her. The only thing on the screen was a button that said ENTER. She clicked on it. Nothing appeared to happen.
“Johnny, I’m inside and clicked on the Web page, but it didn’t do anything.”
“It’s not supposed to. We got it. We’re good.”
She left the office exactly as she found it, rebooting the computer to bring up the password screen. She reached the stairwell and was about to head down when her radio crackled again.
“Pike, the other two assholes have entered the building. They’re in the stairwell headed up.”
We had just finished tying up the first thief when the call came in. Shit, Jennifer’s going to run into them. A second later, I was thinking that wasn’t a bad idea.
“Koko, this is Pike. Come down the stairs until you see them. Let them get a good look at you, then haul ass to the jewelry store. Come right through the door. You copy?”
After a pause, I heard, “Uhh… Okay. You’d better be right there.”
“We’ll be there. Hurry.”
Bull and Knuckles looked at me like I had started smoking crack.
“Bull, get over by the counter. Knuckles, grab that chain.”
Knuckles got the idea and laid it in front of the door, me on one end and him on the other.
Jennifer came on, out of breath. “I’m on the way! And they’re right behind me!”
Seconds later she came flying through the door. Once she passed, we raised the chain to ankle height. Both thieves hit it at a dead sprint, sending them sailing across the floor and crashing headfirst into the wall. Bull was on them immediately, but it was unnecessary. Like their partner, they were out cold.
Knuckles stood up, surveying the damage. “Man, what a clusterfuck. It’s great being back with you, Pike.”
Jennifer was sucking in oxygen as if she’d just run five miles, her hand on her knees, still pumped by the adrenaline, but the comment brought out a laugh. “Look at the bright side. At least we accomplished the mission.”
Bull stared at her for a second, apparently sizing her up for the first time. “Yeah, I guess you did.”
I winked at Jennifer. Another believer. She grinned.
“Well,” I said, “if you guys think I can get us out of here without a lightning strike, I say we take these assholes out and drop them off somewhere. When they wake up, they won’t come back here and certainly won’t be going to the police about a bunch of gringos.”
Bull said, “What about all the damage in here? This wasn’t too clandestine.”
“Let ’em think Batman showed up. Nothing’s missing. We’re not on camera and neither are they. Johnny’s replaced that footage.”
It was a little bit of work, but forty minutes later, I opened my hotel room door, completely spent from the adrenaline of the last couple of hours. When I turned on the light, I saw my room had been ransacked.
Jesus, this place is full of thieves.
Luckily, I had nothing of value that couldn’t be replaced. Jennifer had our laptop, and the only thing I cared about was Kurt’s camera. With a start, I realized it wasn’t where I had left it. The journal was there, but not the camera. I ripped through the small room to no avail, finding the film in my shirt pocket on the bed, but not the camera. It was gone.
Shit. Kurt’s going to have my head.
18
K
urt Hale quit listening to the director of Central Intelligence, since the man was saying the same thing he had already heard from a score of other officials, including his own team of analys
ts. Hell, even the DEA was reporting on it. A hit was coming. Potentially a big one. The indicators spiked from all sources, HUMINT, SIGINT, everything. And despite all of the intelligence, there wasn’t a single concrete thread of when or where. The only unique thing, which wasn’t a comfort, was that at least four different terrorist groups were discussing it. Kurt watched the facial expressions on the Oversight Council members and saw that some weren’t convinced. As the Taskforce commander, he wasn’t a voting member of the council, so he waited until he was asked to speak. Waited and watched the debate.
When the DCI finished, Anthony Brookings, the secretary of state, said, “We get this sort of intel all the time. It doesn’t mean something catastrophic is going to happen in the next few weeks. It doesn’t even mean it’s going to happen at all. I don’t think loosening the reins of Project Prometheus is the answer.”
The DCI threw his briefing folder on the table. “No, we don’t see this all the damn time. We did see it once before, though. In August and September of 2001. It’s coming, and we can sit here and watch it, or try to prevent it.”
“Quit being so melodramatic,” said Secretary Brookings. “We heard this same level of chatter at the turn of the century. There were going to be these massive terrorist attacks on the millennium, and we got nothing. Nada. Zip.” He turned to President Warren. “Sir, letting Prometheus run riot is asking for trouble. What happened with the team in Indonesia is a prime example. I was against that, and I’m against this. I was hoping that incident would have knocked some sense into people.”
Kurt bristled at the comments about the Taskforce. He was also against pushing the issue in Indonesia, preferring to let the hackers work it out, but he’d sent in the team when told to by this very council. Quit blaming the guys on the ground, you chickenshit.
The secretary of defense cut in. “Hang on, nobody’s saying let ’em run riot, but something needs to be done. We’re getting nowhere with traditional intel. If there’s another 9/11 on the way, then the risks have increased.”
“Risks? Risks! What do you think’s going to happen if word gets out that we’re running some sort of secret assassination squad around the world? This whole administration’s going down. Congress will dismantle our entire counterterrorist apparatus. You think that’s good for America? We won’t get any intelligence next time.”
President Warren’s voice was cold. “Tony, I never want to hear you categorize Project Prometheus like that again. I understand your misgivings, and I welcome your insight, but I won’t tolerate you belittling the men that we put into harm’s way. Those same men saved your ass last year.”
Secretary Brookings flushed, but pressed ahead. “Sir, remember it’s an election year. Now is not the time to get more aggressive.”
President Warren said, “What the hell does that have to do with anything? I don’t think the terrorists care about my campaign, and I’m certainly not going to let an attack occur because of politics.”
Brookings said, “That’s not what I meant. It’s not your choice. The opposition probably has a hundred people trying to dig up dirt on you. Your greatest strength is on national security. They’ll be digging hard to find something to turn that strength into a weakness. They don’t need to worry about domestic issues, because the economy’s in the gutter. All you have going for you is national security, and they’ll be looking to put a stake through your heart. We should be getting more cautious, not less, because they might stumble on the Taskforce.”
President Warren turned to Kurt. “What do you think?”
Kurt paused, then said, “I think it’s a moot point right now. We don’t have anything to go on, so there’s not anywhere we can ‘run riot’ anyway.” He locked eyes with Secretary Brookings as he finished.
President Warren said, “But you think it’s coming?”
“Yes. I do. In my mind, the question isn’t whether it’s coming, but how big it will be. All of the groups talking about it have subordinate affiliations with al Qaeda. That indicates they’re cooperating, which is something we haven’t seen on this scale. Cooperating with AQ, yes, but not horizontally with each other for a single attack. They do unilateral acts, then claim it was done on behalf of AQ.”
“Does that help us in any way?”
“Maybe. With that much chatter, we should have some leaks somewhere, which is what really concerns me. How can all of these groups be talking about it, yet we never get anything we can sink our teeth into? Whoever’s the head honcho is very, very good. Compartmentalizing everything.”
“Or,” said Secretary Brookings, “there isn’t an attack on the way.”
President Warren ignored him. “What did you get out of the Indonesia Op?”
Kurt said, “The guy’s a facilitator, no doubt about it, but he’s pretty small-time. His travel company has some airframes that I’m sure have been used for bad reasons, and he’s got offices in Prague and Bangkok, along with a ton of financial information we’ve turned over to the FBI, but nothing related to this.”
The secretary of defense said, “What about rolling him up? The team’s still there, right? We do an Omega operation and then wring him out. If he’s a terrorist facilitator, he needs to be gone anyway.”
“Johnny’s team’s there, but he’s not. He’s in Cairo at some international trade fair. If you guys give me Omega authority, I can lay the groundwork for when he returns.”
Secretary Brookings said, “Cairo? We’ve got a congressional delegation there right now.” He looked at President Warren. “Attending an international trade fair.”
The DCI said, “Shit. Maybe that’s the target.”
Kurt said, “Wait. Noordin’s not a big player. He’s certainly not a hitter.”
“But he could be facilitating someone else who is.”
President Warren said, “Can you shift Johnny’s team in Indonesia to Cairo? At least keep an eye on this guy?”
“Not without a large amount of risk. They’re supposedly contracted to an Indonesian company for cellular phone infrastructure. If they get investigated in any way while in Egypt, starting with customs, they’ll last about twenty minutes.”
President Warren said, “Maybe we lean on the Egyptians if that happens. Get a little something for all of the money we give them.”
Kurt smiled. He knew that Egypt receiving more U.S. monetary aid for defense than any other country on earth, including Israel, grated on President Warren. Especially after the fall of Mubarak. “I have a better idea. Pike’s company deals with archeological work. I can get him to Egypt with little trouble. There’s no better place to look at old shit.”
“Pike?” said Secretary Brookings. “Isn’t he the one who just caused the incident in Indonesia?”
“Uh… no,” Kurt said. “He’s the one who prevented an incident in Indonesia.”
Twenty minutes later the meeting wrapped up, with Kurt jotting down some final notes for the movement of Pike’s team. President Warren stopped by him before leaving.
“How did it work out with the Cambodian Embassy? Did you get your father’s things?”
Kurt grimaced. “Yes, sir, but believe it or not, someone broke into Pike’s hotel room in Indonesia and took the camera.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I appreciate the pull you used, but I guess I should have just let nature take its course.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know how much those articles meant to you.”
“It’s not all bad. The camera had some film in it, which is more than I would have hoped. Pike’s mailing it to me. With any luck, there’ll be something interesting on it from my father.”
19
C
ongressman Ellis laughed politely at the banter of his congressional brethren as they stood in a circle waiting for their transportation. Glancing across the lobby of the Conrad Hotel, he visibly blanched. Walking purposely across the floor was a man who looked remarkably like the passport photo of the guy from Cambodia. He watch
ed the man all the way to the elevator, only pulling his eyes away when he felt someone tugging on his sleeve. “Hey, you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew.”
“Well, you have any input on where we go for dinner? Jack here wants to go to some belly-dancing place the consulate recommended.”
Ellis felt queasy, wanting to run. “That sounds fine. Could you hold the limo? I left something in my room.”
Before the man could answer, Ellis began swiftly walking toward the elevators. He exited at his floor and moved straight to the house phone on a table. If that was the man, a phone call would confirm it. There was no way two people would have the same name.
“Yes, could I get the room of Nephilim Logan, please?”
After spelling it for the hotel operator, he waited, praying to hear that nobody by that name was registered. Instead, he heard the phone start ringing. He swiftly hung up before anyone could answer.
He leaned against the table, feeling faint. The man was clearly here because of him. But how? Where had he gone wrong? There was no way the guy could know about the transfer of equipment, and Han had told him the camera had no film. But maybe it did. Maybe the man had it. Then why not just confront him? What’s staying at the same hotel going to get him? Maybe the pictures didn’t come out clear enough to finger me. Maybe it’s just enough to raise suspicions, and he’s waiting on me to hang myself. Ellis ran-walked to his room, the sweat on his neck feeling clammy in the over-air-conditioned hallway.
Snatching up the pay-as-you-go cell phone, he anxiously waited for Han to answer.
“Hello,” Han said. “I’m assuming this is my twenty-four-hour call?”
“Han, no. The deal’s off. I think someone’s on to us.”
Ellis heard nothing but breathing for a moment.
“Congressman Ellis, the deal is not off. You have been paid handsomely up front and we have worked too hard to make this occur.”