by Ty Patterson
‘I’ll pass on the Spanish name to someone I know,’ she replied in that understated way which meant she knew her counterpart in that country well. ‘I’ll also alert intelligence heads in major European countries.’
‘We’ve got to keep this wrapped,’ Zeb warned.
‘Yes, I know.’ He pictured her rubbing the bridge of her nose in her DC office as she leaned back in her chair, eyes shut. ‘Tverskoy can’t be acting alone,’ she thought out aloud. ‘This is too big even for him. He’s got to have political backing but even that’s not enough. This isn’t big. It’s ginormous. It has a scale and reach that not one country can achieve. And what’s the end goal?’
‘No idea.’
‘You’ve got some ideas?’
‘Nope.’
‘We need that program. I’ll get a trusted group in the NSA to work on it, see if it gets us anywhere. And Zeb, shut it down.’
‘Beth and Meg are doing just that,’ he replied. The twins had made copies of hard drives, unplugged the cables and then Bear and Bwana shot up the machines.
‘Program’s in the servers here,’ the elder sister had assured him. ‘It trawls Facebook, other social media accounts and does what it’s intended to do.’
An hour later they were running across the farm, lugging their gear, heading to their trucks.
‘Wait!’ Beth stopped him. ‘What about the balloons, the drones?’
The sisters had deliberately crashed the UAV before joining the attacks and their debris littered the front yard.
‘Leave them.’
‘But, Zeb, that’s expensive gear. It can be traced back to the US.’
‘I know,’ he replied and resumed running.
‘What’s he up to?’ he heard her ask Meghan who didn’t reply.
Back in the vehicles, jostling across uneven terrain. Zeb at the wheel of one ride, Meghan in the front, beside him. Thinking, about Tverskoy, about List and Content, about Nevada, Colorado and Indonesia.
Johann Schwann came to mind. The German concentration camp survivor who had died in his arms in Berlin.
‘Music, movies, videos, those can turn a man so much?’ he asked softly, even though he knew the answer.
‘Yes,’ Meghan replied. ‘Along with everything else that List does.’
Blue eyes, smiling, soft golden hair bouncing on her neck. His wife adjusting a pair of headphones over his ears. You gotta listen to this. Her head bobbing as she twined her fingers with his.
Zeb looked out of the side window. There had been a time when songs were a big part of his life. Not anymore.
The Ukrainian landscape sped past, rolling fields, some barren, some with crops. Chernihiv came and went, a hustling city, and then Kiev approached. More traffic. Houses, offices, industrial units. He let the now fill his mind and sent the memories back to their vault.
‘Tverskoy,’ he asked the older sister. ‘Can you find him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And those three locations. Colorado, Nevada and Indonesia?’
‘We sure as hell will try.
He called Andropov. ‘Grigor, how soon can you get a team to Ukraine? Yeah, we busted the bratva place. Yes, we found the programmers, servers. That was the base for the algorithms. We destroyed all of it. You need to seal the place. Yes, news reports are fine. In fact, I want Tverskoy to know his place was busted.’
* * *
At Boryspil International Airport, Kotenko was waiting for them with another man. He took the keys to their trucks, tossed one to his companion and drove away as unobtrusively as he had arrived.
A call from Pierre Gurtin which made Zeb tighten his lips. ‘Our information was too late,’ he told his team. ‘That French man, in that list of names in the farmhouse…he killed four people near the Louvre, half an hour back.’
‘What about the others?’
He raised a finger to ask for silence and made calls to Thompson and then to Clare. The hardness on his face eased momentarily when he hung up. ‘Those others are being tracked by police. They’ll be stopped if they bring out a weapon.’
‘What’re the laws on this?’ Chloe asked. ‘Have they broken any laws by listening to that hate stuff? Surely they were manipulated.’
‘Not our problem.’ He led them into the airport’s lounge. Backpacks and bags, like other travelers. No weapons, no balloons and no drones.
‘Need a bite?’ He stopped in the middle of the concourse and scratched his chin.
‘Nope, let’s go,’ Bwana growled and made to move past him. ‘There’s still List Asia and US to take down. And the Content team. And Tverskoy and whoever else is behind this.
‘You sure? It’s a long flight. Beth, Chloe?’
‘We’re good, Zeb,’ the younger sister patted her bag which had her laptop. ‘The sooner we’re wheels up, the quicker we can get back to work.’
‘Wait, one,’ he replied and pulled his phone out. Looked up and around as if searching for someone.
‘What’s up?’ Meghan asked him impatiently.
‘I still think we should fill ourselves up.’
The elder twin opened her mouth to flare at him. Stopped suddenly and she took in the normal airport scene around them. Her eyes went to the columns in the concourse, to the security cameras mounted on them.
‘You want Tverskoy to know it was us,’ a flash of understanding on her face. ‘That’s why you’re hanging around. Showing your face.’
‘Yeah. If we can’t get to the answers quickly enough,’ Zeb replied grimly. ‘Let them come to us.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
Nikolai Tverskoy checked in with Andrei each evening through an email account with one of the free providers. Draft mails that never got sent. One of the most secure ways to communicate with another person, particularly when both parties were criminals.
No update. The Russian drummed his fingers on the polished table surface in his hotel room as he looked out at the Paris view. No update was unusual. It was a rule between them that Andrei post something each day, just to confirm it was business as usual. As the killings increased around the world, it was all the more important to stick to protocol.
Cruisers raced down the street far below. Paris was on high alert after the Louvre attack. There was hardly any foot traffic. The pakhan went to the window and glanced down. Armed police officers on the street. Patrol dogs.
Tverskoy wondered when the next round of riots would start. Made a bet with himself that they would happen before night.
It was his doing but any pride he felt was obscured by the worry over Chernihiv. Andrei was one of his most trusted lieutenants. It was unlike him to maintain radio silence.
And then he slapped himself mentally and turned on the TV. He flipped through channels, almost all of which covered the day’s massacre. He stopped at a Russian station and waited patiently for the host to move on from the Paris story. He swore when the news turned to politics and had his thumb on the power off button when he read the scrolling banner.
Mysterious attack on a farmhouse in Chernihiv. Balloons crash land on its roof.
He roared in the silence of his room and lunged towards his phone. Dialed a number swiftly and far away, after the call was bounced through several satellites, it was picked up.
‘Da?’ a rough voice asked. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Who are you?’ Tverskoy shouted.
‘Captain Leontij Tokar,’ the voice replied stiffly. ‘Chernihiv Police Department.’
The Russian hung up. A warning breeze blew through his mind, cooling his anger. He opened a browser and searched for more details on the farmhouse. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he read. No survivors. No clues. The remains of highly sophisticated balloons and drones. Police were investigating.
He wiped his face with a towel and settled back into his chair. This was a disaster and it meant a call had to be made. It wasn’t one he was looking forward to.
Chapter Fifty-Three
This time they met in London, the
day after the Paris attack. Leslie, Williams and Smith, in a boutique hotel that faced Parliament Square. The establishment catered to the super-rich and had a reputation for exclusivity, which was why it was a favorite of the spymasters. They were confident that it was one of the few hotels that MI5 and MI6 didn’t surveil and that was why it had been selected.
The atmosphere was strained, unlike the last time. Williams, the host, had organized the meeting at the very last minute once he had heard from Tverskoy.
* * *
He had gone into a cold rage when Tverskoy had broken the news. ‘I came to you because you were the best,’ he had hissed. ‘Because your engineers ran the most sophisticated algorithms in the US elections. And your security and secrecy was unmatchable. Now, you’re saying some strangers just walked into your place, shot everyone up and stole the program?’
The pakhan had tried to explain but the spymaster was beyond listening. He raged and yelled for several minutes until his fury abated and he could think clearly.
List Europe was no longer a secret. Whoever had attacked the Chernihiv base knew about it and presumably knew of the existence of the other teams.
‘Find out who they are,’ he had ordered. ‘I don’t care how you do it. The program…it’s gone?’
The farmhouse was not salvageable, Tverskoy told him. The intruders had destroyed the computer room and now, the police had taken over the place. There was no way List Europe could go back into operation.
* * *
‘How bad is it?’ Leslie asked Williams coldly.
The three men were in a small room in the interior of the hotel. Coffee cups in front of them. A platter of biscuits, untouched. It wasn’t the time for socializing and pleasantries.
‘I told you,’ the spymaster replied. ‘As bad as it can get.’ He broke it down for them again, staring defiantly at them. It wasn’t as if he, personally, was responsible for the events in Chernihiv.
‘And you don’t know who they were?’ Smith snapped.
In answer, Williams tossed a set of photographs on the table. Their glossy surfaces slid and spread on the spotless white cloth. ‘Tverskoy sent these to me just before you arrived. Not even half an hour ago.’
Leslie picked one image up. A brown-haired man in an airport lounge. Another picture, that of a bunch of men and women crowding around that person. A third picture, of eight people exiting from Boryspil Airport. Their heads and faces were partly covered, but there was no mistaking their build and those two large men.
‘Who are they?’ he passed the photographs to Williams.
‘That man, there,’ Williams jabbed the air, pointing to the brown-haired man. ‘That’s Zeb Carter. That’s his team with him. They work in a covert US outfit.’
* * *
‘I have not heard of him.’
‘Neither have I,’ Smith chimed.
‘That’s why he’s one of the most dangerous agents in the US.’
‘How do you know about him?’ The Asia man asked.
‘You’ve heard of Grigor Andropov?’
Heads nodded. The Russian was a legend in their circles.
‘A few years back, there was a Do Not Apprehend message from him. No name, just a description. Him!’ He held up Carter’s photograph. ‘Since then, I’ve been building a file on the American. There isn’t much in it. He’s like a ghost. Doesn’t leave tracks. I think he was involved in that Israel-Palestine affair.’
Leslie snorted at his choice of words. The biggest political event of the century wasn’t a mere affair. ‘I didn’t get that message,’ he said.
‘Nor me, either,’ Smith again.
‘It was only to me, MI6 and DGSE. Don’t ask me why. It was Andropov who sent it to me. Carter was in Chernihiv when the cartel house went down.’
Silence hung heavy in the room. A faint laugh from the corridor outside.
‘It can’t be coincidence.’
‘No,’ Williams agreed. ‘Tverskoy’s men made enquiries. Carter and those people were seen in the town. A store owner remembers them. He said the dark man in that group was unmistakable.’
‘When were these photographs taken?’
‘Time stamp’s on them,’ he pointed to the numerals in the bottom right-hand corner of the images. ‘Those, with their scarves and bandanas, was on their arrival. Two days before the bratva place was destroyed. The second set is the evening of the attack. Have a look at these, too.’
He brought out more photographs. Of balloons over the farmhouse and the wreckage of drones. ‘That’s sophisticated gear, there. US made. Carter. He found out, somehow about that place, and he acted. And now, he knows about List Europe.’
‘He might know about you, too.’ Smith asked sharply.
‘We have to assume that. I visited just once and met only Tverskoy. We agreed on that. All of us would visit our centers in person. Check them out for ourselves.’
‘Yes, but we told the center heads to delete CCVTV recordings of our arrival.’
‘And Tverskoy said his man, Andrei, did that. He even showed me a feed. On top of that, he swears he did not tell anyone about me. But…’
Leslie reached for the jug of coffee and filled their cups. Buying time, for them to think and process what they had heard.
‘We have a month to go before the G20 Summit,’ he said. ‘So far, things are on track. The violence around the world has escalated. Those countries which are having national elections…their ruling governments are facing disaster in the polls. In Europe, USA, Canada, UK, South America, there’s anger at the elected officials. The stock markets are down. Our buying into key shares is undetected. But-’
‘We still have a way to go,’ Williams broke in. ‘The formation of the special security force. The defense ministers of our countries are making progress on that. But they have to move carefully. They know nothing can be leaked before the summit.’
‘I spoke to my boss last week,’ Leslie took a sip of his coffee and patted his lips delicately with the table linen. ‘I briefed him. He’s happy. Things are progressing on the political front too. Our leader spoke to your leaders. All three are on board now. Their people are drafting a joint message which they will collectively read out at the G20. That, along with the security force announcement…people in all countries will look to our countries as the real leaders. Not the US, Britain, France or Germany. And with total control of those internet companies, we can destroy the Western world.’
‘And now, Carter,’ Smith growled. ‘If he knows of List Europe, he might find out about the others. Content as well. If it comes out that we are behind it –’
‘President Morgan will act,’ Leslie nodded, knowing where the America man was heading. ‘He will get the British, French, German and Japanese leaders together. They’ll stop what we’re planning. We’ve got to stop Carter.’
He and Smith looked at Williams who nodded. ‘I’ll deal with him. But we have to revive List Europe again. We need momentum.’
‘There’s a copy of all the Lists in Nevada and Colorado, isn’t there?’ Leslie, thinking aloud. ‘Those two are our fallback locations.’
‘Yes. But we can’t risk sending any messages. Who knows what Carter might be tracking? One of us will have to go in person and work with the team leader there and get it activated.’
‘I’ll go,’ Smith announced. ‘I’m the least known of us three. It won’t be immediate, however. I’ve got to finish some tasks that my boss gave me. It’ll take about a week.’
‘Let’s do this. You go to Colorado,’ Williams added, ‘I’ll go to Nevada. We can decide which List Europe version to activate once we get there. Both those teams are mine and they just might’ve heard what went down in Chernihiv. Yes,’ he held a hand to forestall their objections. ‘We know they have no means of communication and don’t know where the other teams are. But, these are some of the smartest software engineers in the world. They could’ve figured out something. And none of us or our men on the ground are as tech savvy as them. T
hat was a known risk.’
A short silence as the men contemplated the Europe man’s suggestion.
‘That works with me,’ the Asia man stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Both Tomas in Nevada and Jake in Colorado know the three of us. They’re your men. You handpicked them, along with the programmers and sent them to those locations,’ he glanced at Williams.
‘Yes, those two, they’re better than Tverskoy.’
‘Okay, that’s decided. I’ve got another idea. You know the protest marches in Washington DC, Paris and London?’
‘Those are in about ten days. You mean those?’
‘Yes. Why don’t we attack those?’
‘These programs,’ Williams mused, ‘they don’t work as specifically as that. There’s a degree of chance. How much a man has turned, how much his killing instincts have been roused.’
‘No, I mean we send killers to shoot into those crowds. Our killers. Single men from within our organizations. Expendable, so that even if they’re caught, they won’t know anything about us.’
Williams and Smith caught on immediately. ‘Yes. That will be devastating. And will make up for List Europe’s absence for some time.’
‘I can provide the shooters,’ the Europe man said. ‘I’ve got them in-country, in the US.’
‘Go to the US locations,’ Leslie told them. ‘Once you’re there, we’ll coordinate the attacks. We need to tie up a loose end,’ he turned to the Europe man.
‘Tverskoy?’ Williams glanced at his Rolex. ‘He won’t be a problem for much longer. There’s a hit team heading to Paris. They know where he’s hiding. By the end of the day, the pakhan will cease to exist.’
‘That leaves us with Carter. You need to move fast.’
‘I’ll take care of him, too,’ Williams said grimly, glancing at the photograph of the brown-haired man. ‘He’s a dead man walking.’