by Ty Patterson
‘We invested so much time, money and resources in this,’ Leslie hissed savagely. ‘We got our leaders on board. Our defense ministers are talking of numbers. How many troops and equipment each country will commit. Our share buying is proceeding smoothly. This. Is. Not. The. Time. To. Stop.’
‘The American knows about List Europe and Asia and he probably knows about Content too.’ Smith wasn’t backing down.
‘Even if he knows everything, there’s nothing to connect us to the programs. Just the words of Zhen?’ Leslie scoffed. ‘What’s he going to do with that? Go to our embassies? Get President Morgan to call our leaders? What do you think he’ll hear from us?’
‘We’ll deny. We won’t laugh at him,’ Williams said, ‘but we’ll be offended at the accusation. Very offended.’
‘Precisely!’ The Asia man slammed a palm on the table. ‘They don’t have any proof other than the actual programs and those have nothing on us.’
Smith chewed on his food silently as he considered Leslie’s words. Of the three, he had the most to lose. He had played around with budgets and slush funds and siphoned out substantial amounts to fund the program.
‘Besides, can you imagine the reception we’ll get if we pull the plug now?’
The America man stopped eating. He looked up, his face whitening.
‘Yes,’ Leslie read his mind. ‘Our leaders, our defense ministers, won’t be very happy, will they? That we promised so much and failed at the last moment. Do you think they’ll let us live? Our families?’
‘I can guess what will happen to me,’ Williams shifted uncomfortably on the hard seats. ‘I’ll disappear, my family too, and we’ll never be seen or heard again. I’ll be tortured and disposed of.’
Smith shuddered in response. ‘I’ll receive the same fate,’ he whispered.
‘And me too,’ Leslie agreed, ‘and that’s why we can’t stop. We have to see this to the end. In any case, we haven’t long to go. On the security force side, things are progressing rapidly. Our leaders are exchanging a draft of the speech they’ll make.’
‘I don’t think Williams and I should go to the US.’
‘That’s all the more reason that you should. Your presence will reassure those teams. And we need to go all out now. We’ve got to activate List Europe and Asia and we need to see more killings in America. Now’s not the time to get cold feet.’
Smith thought about it for a long while as the traffic in the restaurant ebbed and flowed and tables were cleared around them and new patrons arrived and were served.
‘I’ll go.’
‘Great,’ Leslie beamed. ‘You, too?’ he looked at Williams.
‘I was planning to go. I won’t be able to return until this is over.’
‘To success,’ The Asia man raised his glass.
‘To success,’ they echoed.
‘And to more killing,’ Smith added savagely.
Chapter Seventy
New York. Hot and humid. Snarling traffic and attitude. Home.
‘Rest,’ Zeb told his friends when they had landed the previous night. ‘Regroup tomorrow.’
They met silently in the office the next day, subdued, because, as they had slept, Mark Lefebre, a gym manager in Columbus, Ohio, had fired an AR15 at a mosque, killing four people. In retaliation, a group of gunmen had fired on a church in the early hours of the morning. Total death toll, fifteen. Seven critically injured.
‘List America or whatever it’s called,’ Bwana growled and muted the TV. ‘That’s the program’s doing.’
‘Yes,’ Zeb said as his friends gathered around. ‘Hit us,’ he told the twins. ‘What have you got?’
He sized them up quickly. We’ve been on the move ever since Clare green-lighted the mission. Moscow. Ukraine. Indonesia. But none of the operatives looked the worse for the wear. They were grim, determined. Beth and Meg…they too. The twins were the only ones who didn’t have any military background. They’re as good as any of us, now, he thought proudly.
‘That Indonesian center,’ Beth began, ‘it was similar to the Chernihiv one in many ways. Basic List program was the same. Tweaks to account for regional differences. Set-up virtually identical. Zhen’s men –’
‘The engineers were Russian,’ Meghan interrupted. ‘No identities on them, but that’s what we suspect, going by their features.’
‘Tverskoy provided them?’ Bear glanced at Zeb who shrugged and replied, ‘No way of knowing. They communicated the same way?’
‘Yeah. The same realtor site and dating site. One difference. This team knew that List America’s in Colorado and Content’s in Nevada.’
‘Knew, how?’ Broker leaned forward, alert.
‘No idea,’ Beth’s hair bounced as she shook her head. ‘In case you’ve forgotten,’ she said sarcastically, ‘we’ve not had much time. Werner’s hooked up into the program now and digging, but it’ll still take time.’
‘Names?’ Chloe who had been balancing in her chair on two legs, straightened. ‘You find any men they were targeting?’
‘Oh, yeah. That was the first thing we looked for.’ Several photographs came up on the wall. ‘We sent their details to Daritan while we were in the Gulfstream.’
‘He’s arrested a few, watching others,’ Zeb commented. ‘I got a message from him. Any link to the men who attacked us in New York?’
‘Nada,’ Beth replied. ‘Zhen’s center wasn’t a kill center. It was a software program hub.’
‘You were able to narrow it down? Nevada and Colorado?’
More pictures on the wall as Meghan frowned in frustration. ‘No. The same images that were in Chernihiv. We guess the Colorado team is in a ranch,’ she pointed to several pictures and with another click of the remote, more images, this time of solar panel banks. ‘This is different from Chernihiv.’
She grinned at the surge of interest in her friends. ‘Yeah, solar farms. In Nevada. There are many. Zhen’s team had several images of these.’
‘That’s where the Content team is?’ Broker mused.
‘We think so.’
‘Makes sense,’ Zeb thought out aloud. ‘Those places are remote. They have enough equipment that high-end servers wouldn’t be noticed.’
‘The problem is we don’t know where those locations are, exactly.’ Beth burst their bubble. ‘And we don’t know who that man in Chernihiv is. Werner could find no voice match to that recording. No match to that video of his. We’ve drawn a blank on Riyaz Khalid Ahmed too. That name is common enough and Werner got several hits but all of them are civilians with no possible connection to Hyde.’
‘Let’s talk to Grigor and then we’re going to DC,’ Zeb strode to a desk phone.
‘DC? Why?’
‘It’s time to loop in Clare and Klouse. About China, Russia and this mysterious man.’
‘But we don’t know anything more,’ Meghan protested. ‘What’ll we go to them with?’
‘With what we have. But first, let’s call Grigor,’ Zeb said grimly and summoned them to the phone.
Chapter Seventy-One
‘Play that voice again,’ Andropov said when Meghan had finished briefing him. The Russian didn’t ask why Zeb had kept the findings from him. He wasn’t put out that he hadn’t been looped into the Jakarta mission. He knew how his friend worked and would have acted similarly if he was running the operation.
Beth played the Chernihiv recording again. Andropov scrunched his face on the video call and shook his head in frustration. ‘I think it’s a Russian voice. That inflection, a very faint accent, but I can’t be sure. And I don’t recognize him. But-’ he wagged a finger when he saw the twins’ disappointment. ‘I’ve got a database. One that even you don’t know of. Come, now,’ he laughed when he saw their expressions. ‘I know what you do in New York. Werner… isn’t that what you call your program? I know it’s got front door as well as back door access all over the world.’
‘Then you know we’re already hooked to your system,’ Beth said spiritedly.
/>
‘Not this one. It’s not connected to any network.’
‘Give us access.’
‘And let you know my secrets?’ he demanded and then broke into a smile. ‘When are you joining me?’
It was an old, tired joke but never failed to bring a smile to the sisters’ faces. The Russian spymaster had been so impressed on meeting them the first time, many years back, that he had made a job offer to both of them. ‘Anything you want. Your own dacha, one each, private car, private jet. Leave Zeb and come work with me.’
When he had learned that Avichai Levin, Mossad’s director, had made a similar offer, he had upped the ante. ‘Your own office in the Kremlin,’ he had offered.
Beth and Meghan had declined but that didn’t stop Andropov from repeating his offer every now and then.
‘Grigor,’ Zeb said softly. ‘We don’t have time.’
‘Yes,’ his friend turned serious immediately. ‘I’ll get them connected to my system. Let me know what you find.’
* * *
Werner was done being bored. This mission hadn’t challenged him much. Sure, he had to run a few searches, a few voice print matches, facial recognitions, but he could do those in his sleep.
Not that he slept. The world’s greatest AI engine – and he was, there was no doubt about that – could perform those tasks without even challenging his core processors.
But that had changed when his bosses - Beth and Meghan, the best bosses in the world – gave him a new search. Take that Chernihiv video print and search Andropov’s database.
Now, that was interesting. It wasn’t difficult, mind you, but it was eyebrow-raising. It was his first time into that particular repository and, oh wow, so that Egyptian terrorist was killed by that Russian agent! Werner and the twins had always suspected but this was proof. And those Pakistani terrorists…killed by Mossad. Again there had been rumors, but Andropov had gotten more evidence.
But, Werner was getting distracted. That wouldn’t do. He knew the pressure the twins were under. He roamed the recesses of the database. This file, that folder, this clip, what about that video…nope. Nothing there.
He sat back and pondered. How about running an aging analysis? That dude in that Chernihiv video, it was possible a younger version of him was floating in Andropov’s files. His voice could be younger.
Nope, that didn’t work.
Werner wasn’t giving up however. He knew what was at stake, and for Beth and Meg he would do anything. They made him purr, not literally of course, but you get the picture. The sisters talked to him, patted him, treated him as their equal, a human they could relate to? Was there any other boss who did that? Nope, and no thanks, Werner wasn’t interested in finding out.
So, back to the program. That aging thing sparked another thought. How about comparing the man’s gestures, body movement, again allowing for age?
Another scan of all the files…and just as Werner was giving up, a ping. What was that? He feverishly opened that folder. A video recording. More than six years old. Two men in a Moscow bar, captured by a long-range surveillance camera. Why were they recorded? No, nothing in the database about that, which didn’t surprise Werner. Those Russians, they were paranoid. They often recorded people for no reason.
Okay, which of the men had triggered the alert? That one, in the dark suit, his back to the bar, his face fully presented to the camera. He was laughing, glass in his hand. Dark hair, dark eyes. Clean-shaven. Nothing about him that would stand out. A businessman, a bratva boss, or a spy. He could be any of those.
Now, to get his identity.
Werner searched Andropov’s database. Nope, nothing there. He searched other agency files. No luck. Hmmm. How about news sites?
And there it was. Werner hit jackpot.
The man was mentioned, almost in passing, in the coverage of a defense conference in Moscow. Just that one reference. His name didn’t appear anywhere else. In no covert agency database, no other news site. It was as if the man had disappeared after that one public outing.
Was that why he had been spied on? A man who dropped out of sight? Andropov would know.
Job done, Werner leaned back, hoisted his polished shoes on the desk, lit a cigar and blew out a perfect ring of smoke.
Figuratively, of course. Everyone knew AI programs didn’t smoke.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Six hours later, DC. The Washington Memorial standing proud and tall as they drove from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. The flag on the White House just visible over the thicket at the back.
They turned into the gates at the back of the most famous residence in the world. Went through a rigorous security check. ‘You didn’t tell us we were coming here,’ Meghan darted a glance at Zeb as a Secret Service man escorted them to the West Wing and then to the first floor. ‘We would’ve dressed up.’
He glanced at her and Beth. ‘There’s nothing wrong with how you look,’ he said and as if on cue, an aide turned back and looked admiringly at the sisters. ‘You’re keeping something from us,’ he stated. He had seen them stiffen, during the flight, and huddle together. Soft whispers, barely-restrained excitement. His questioning look had been ignored and by the time their Gulfstream landed, they had composed themselves.
‘You’ll know soon enough,’ she whispered as they entered a well-appointed office on the first floor.
Daniel Klouse rose from behind his desk, clapped Zeb on the shoulders, hugged the sisters and shook hands with the rest of the operatives. He had met them several times, no introduction was necessary.
Clare, in a grey suit, offered them a brief smile. If she had been up all night, briefing the President, talking to other agencies, it didn’t show. She was cool as ever, her warmth breaking through her façade when she greeted the twins and Chloe.
‘I bet you’ve seen this,’ Klouse pointed to the TV screen which was playing the scenes of the killing in Columbus.
‘Yes, sir,’ Zeb poured himself coffee from the jug on a side table.
The National Security Advisor turned off the screen and leaned against his desk. ‘Tell us some good news.’
‘List Asia has been stopped, sir. You might be aware of that.’
‘Yes. What went down, there?’
Zeb broke it down for them, pausing for a moment when Klouse chuckled at his mention of water hoses. His grim expression returned as he heard about the shootout in the Cakung slum and –
‘Oh, for Chrissakes,’ Beth interrupted impatiently. ‘Zeb, you’re taking too long. Sir, Zhen gave us a name.’
Klouse straightened. Clare looked at Zeb. This was news to her as well.
‘We didn’t tell you, ma’am,’ Beth told her apologetically. ‘We wanted to crosscheck that name.’
‘Spit it out, Beth.’
‘Riyaz Khalid Ahmed.’
The NSA reared back as if he had been struck. Zeb knew what was going on through his mind. A Muslim sounding name? ISIS could be behind this?
‘Riyaz Khalid Ahmed,’ Klouse repeated slowly, his face thinned out, lips tight, eyes savage. ‘Is he a terrorist? Who is he?’
‘We don’t know, sir,’ Beth admitted. ‘We ran searches…but all those with such a name…and there are thousands of them in the world. None of them raised any flags. Civilians. Office workers –’
‘All these killings are by civilians.’
‘Yes, sir. And we have sent those names to the intelligence agencies of various countries. Pakistan, Malaysia, the Gulf countries…but the way Zhen spoke. This man isn’t a civilian. He’s got a bigger role to play.’
And only then, as the moments passed and a clock ticked and distant voices came to them from the corridors of power in the White House, did Zeb notice Clare.
She knows who he is!
His boss hadn’t jumped in joy. She hadn’t pumped her fist. That wasn’t her style. She had gone still, her eyes distant.
‘Who is he?’ Zeb asked her and all eyes swung towards Clare at his question.
/> ‘I might be wrong,’ she replied carefully, unsurprised that Zeb had read her expression. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Clare,’ the National Security Advisor exploded. ‘Who is it?’
‘The Riyaz Khalid Ahmed I knew was a junior, very junior minister in the Saudi Arabian Defense Ministry.’
Chapter Seventy-Three
I wasn’t expecting that, Zeb thought as the room filled with exclamations and swearing. A Saudi?
‘Where’s he now?’
‘How did you meet him?’
‘Are you still in touch?’
Questions rained thick and fast on Clare who held a hand up to silence the operatives.
‘It was six or seven years ago,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to check my notes. A meeting in Dubai of various defense and intelligence heads from the Middle East and the West. Ahmed wasn’t a key person. I met him at the evening reception. All I remember of him is a smiling face and his name.’
‘The Saudis are our allies,’ Klouse said angrily, his face turning red.
‘Daniel,’ Clare cautioned him. ‘The Ahmed I met was Saudi. But this name that Zhen gave could be anyone.’
‘There’s more,’ Beth butted in before the NSA could reply. ‘We got a call on Zhen’s phone when we were returning to the airport.’
‘Who was it?’ Klouse’s body was tight, as if he was a tightly-stretched wire.
‘The caller didn’t give a name. However, he spoke in Mandarin.’
Klouse hissed. Clare turned pale.
‘And that’s not all,’ Meghan said, turning to Zeb. ‘We identified that man in Chernihiv, in that CCTV camera video.’
‘What man?’ Klouse demanded and nodded when the elder twin explained quickly. ‘Who’s he?’
‘He too was a junior minister. In Russia in their defense department. He’s Sidor Yefremov.’