by Ty Patterson
I froze at those words and for a moment I panicked. I must have made some kind of sound since he went quiet. The stalls in this hotel are fully enclosed with floor to ceiling concrete separators and hence he wouldn’t know if any stall was occupied till he tried the doors.
He did try them. I saw the knob on my door turning slowly and when it didn’t give, it was released. I stood there for several moments and relaxed only when I heard the door slamming shut.
I waited for several moments and when I didn’t hear anything, I exited the stall.
He was there!
He was pointing his phone at my stall and his camera flashed when I emerged. I recognized him immediately and blind panic consumed me. I ran out without looking back and left the hotel immediately.
I checked into another hotel in lower Manhattan that evening and it was only after several hours that I could calm down and think properly.
The man I saw was one of the most recognized faces in the country. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about going to the NYPD, but it would be just his word against mine, and what did I really have? A couple of words I overheard in a ladies room!
I returned to Lander the next day, to my folks’ place, filed my report for the event and decided to investigate The Man.
Meghan frowned and skimmed through the rest of the sheets rapidly. ‘No name.’ Beth turned to Werner and typed out a string. Werner promptly came back with a message; no names were mentioned in the letter.
‘Let’s get on with it, we’ll figure out the name later,’ Broker exclaimed impatiently.
Meghan turned back to the letter.
I interviewed people who knew him and who had worked with him in various capacities. I said I was doing a background piece on him whenever I was asked. No one probed further. The Man was so famous that such pieces were common.
One night my pickup truck had its windows smashed and a message was left for me, tied to a brick. “Back off,” it said.
I took it to the sheriff who said he would investigate, but I knew from his demeanor, he wouldn’t. I was right. Nothing came of his investigation. Probably some drunk kids, he shrugged.
I continued digging and a picture began to emerge of a ruthless man who tolerated no opposition. He invested in companies and whenever he had a labor problem or shareholder disagreement, accidents happened. In one of his companies, an automotive parts manufacturer, the union leader had a fatal driving accident. He was drunk and the cops wrote it off as an accident while DUI.
In another company, a couple of minority shareholders who disagreed with him were assaulted and their homes were burgled by masked hoods. Both were scared to speak, but when I assured them anonymity, they pointed at The Man.
The Man had inherited his wealth; this was public knowledge. His parents were ranchers, humble people, who worked hard. The Man’s wealth came from a relative in the family, and when she passed away, her wealth was left to him.
I pulled out all details of investments and studied them. I made a dossier, but I have deliberately masked details for a reason you’ll know later.
Meghan flipped to the last few pages. The first annexure ran to a few pages but all names, dates, event details were filled with nonsensical letters and words. She expelled a frustrated breath but carried on reading at Beth’s urging.
I spoke to a former private secretary of his. She had worked with him for a few years and had once filed a harassment case against him. That case had been quietly dropped. I couldn’t find anything more on her but finally located her in a small town in Maryland. She wouldn’t confirm or deny anything, but hinted that he had bought her silence with a combination of threats and bribes. She let slip that in a different world, he would be in prison. I pressed her for more details, but she clammed up; in fact she looked scared and even went on to say she could lose her life.
I think my meeting her was the tripwire. They must have been tracking me or her because two weeks later, I was abducted. Three hooded men broke into my house late at night and dragged me to a waiting truck. I didn’t have time to scream or raise my alarm; it was so smoothly and professionally done. My mouth was clamped shut with a large hand and before I could draw breath, it was taped. My legs were swiftly bound and my thrashing was quickly subdued.
I started panicking and started screaming behind my restraints, but my noises were muffled and not a soul in Lander heard me. I was thinking I would be dragged off and killed, but they had something worse planned for me.
They dumped me in the back of the truck and drove me for hours, not stopping once. I passed out sometime in the night and when I came to, I was lying on a crude bed in a shack in the middle of nowhere.
There was a dim light in the room, but it was enough for me to see their unmasked faces. One was bald and broad and had a broken nose, another had marks on his face and a third had a ponytail.
They raped me for more than an hour, taking turns. I screamed and yelled and swore and cursed, but there was no one to hear me. I passed out a few times but every time they slapped me or poured water on me and revived me.
Beth took over the reading when Meghan’s fingers tightened on the sheet and her breath shuddered.
I thought they would kill me once they had finished because their faces were uncovered, but they had other plans.
The bald one leaned over me when they had finished and said this was the only warning I would get. They didn’t mention The Man, they didn’t have to. The connection was obvious.
I lay there for several hours when they left and when daylight came, I struggled and finally got myself free. I think they deliberately loosened my restraints because they wanted me to escape.
I blacked out a couple of times while washing up. I walked for miles and then I came across a road and got a ride. It turned out that I was close to the Wind River Range.
I got back to Lander and collapsed and didn’t leave my bed for two days. On the third day I decided to can the story. I also decided not to go to the cops; I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I got myself tested by a discreet physician and thankfully, I was free of any viruses or infection. I put my house on the market and within a week got offers for it. I took the first offer, closed my affairs in Lander and bought an apartment in Cheyenne.
Connor, I thought a new life in a city would help me put everything behind me, but you know that isn’t how it works. A story lives in us and pursues us till we publish it.
I controlled myself initially, tried to forget The Man, forget the rape, but the story didn’t forget me. I started investigating again, but this time I used fake identities, used throwaway phones and used simple disguises, like a wig and glasses, when I met people.
Connor, I know for sure The Man will have more tripwires to warn him about me. However careful I am, I know I can’t beat the security he has around him. Once he knows I am looking into him, he’ll kill me.
Obviously, he won’t do that himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if my rapists come back one night and finish me off.
I will not give you his identity; doing so will put you and your family in danger. However, there are enough clues in this letter. You are the best journalist I know and you will be able to make him.
My last interview was with one of his chauffeurs. That driver overheard too much and was sacked the same day. The next day was nearly crushed to death by a runaway truck in New York. He died from his injuries but not before he spoke to me.
He had heard The Man speaking on his phone, talking about something big. Something that would alter the balance of power in the world. It was that one line that got him killed.
God Bless
Your friend, Elena.
Bear took the sheets from Beth’s nerveless hands, went through them swiftly and looked at Broker. ‘Can’t we crack the code on the annexure?’
Broker grimaced. ‘I’m pretty sure Werner would have, if it could. Unfortunately while we know a bit more, we still don’t know enough about The Man.’
‘That poo
r woman,’ Beth shuddered. ‘Connor said she was one of the best journalists in the country, probably in the world. I can’t even imagine how she survived that rape. She must have been made of steel to come back from that horror.’
She thrust her chin at Bwana, her five-foot-seven frame quivering with rage, dwarfed by him. ‘Her death should not be in vain.’
‘It won’t,’ a voice called out, ‘her rapists are dead.’ Zeb strode in the office and picked up the second set of papers Werner had printed.
‘You know who he is?’ Meghan asked him hopefully after they had greeted him.
‘Not yet, but we will know soon enough, and when we do, Elena Petrova will publish her story.’
Chapter 27
Wasserman finished his call to his asset in New York, the one who had reported Carter’s presence in the city. Wasserman asked him to continue his surveillance and after a few more instructions, hung up.
He plugged his phone to his laptop and copied the recording of the call he had just made. He used a software application to break the audio file into smaller chunks and listened to each segment. He selected two segments and saved them in a separate folder.
He sent the two files to an email address that belonged to an overweight kid who lived off a diet of soda, chocolates, and burgers. The kid was the best hacker he knew and frequently surfed the networks of the Pentagon and other high security organizations.
His instructions to the hacker were simple. The two files were to be inserted into a telecom company’s data feed.
One file with the right words to alert Carter, the second to triangulate my location.
Wasserman wasn’t given to rubbing hands in satisfaction. Satisfaction to him was the burning fire of Remy Martin that sped through him. He finished his drink and called out for his men.
A battle was looming. Wasserman was ready.
Werner cocked an ear and sighed when he heard no instructions. These humans. At times they flooded him with instructions, at others, days went before he was put to work.
It searched the internet for that cute supercomputer in China. Now that one was something. It had sleek lines and its RAM and computing speed made Werner tremble in anticipation and so it sent out an internet call. Chess. They could play chess.
But wait, what was that?
Werner paused and listened. Through the zettabytes of data that it trawled, a name flashed. Zeb Carter. Werner forgot the cute computer and chased the data packet that contained the name. It was a fragment from a voice call, with more words before and after the name. Watch him and New York were part of the fragment.
Werner checked the fragment. Was it large enough? Maybe, but no harm in trying. It ran a voice print match and in seconds got a reply.
The fragment was Wasserman’s voice.
Fist pump!
It went back to the source of the data stream and searched for more nuggets. Hours later it struck gold. The second packet was bundled with other streams and hence was harder to spot. But it had the same voice print and this time the fragment was fuller.
Let me know when he leaves the city.
Where did these originate from? Where was the caller?
Werner pulled up a geographic map, laid out the cellphone towers the fragments had touched, looked up the various cellphone numbers and then traced the numbers to owners.
The phone was registered to an address in Wyoming, a ranch near Evanston.
Werner ran one last check. Yeah, that same cellphone had made a few calls, way back in time, which had the same voice print. Wasserman’s voice. Werner flashed the address on its screen, put its feet up and grabbed the carrot juice.
It was the best in the world. It had no competition.
‘This isn’t about oil ministers, is it?’ Broker queried Zeb when they had studied the rest of the print-outs and also the address Werner had flashed.
‘Nope. It is beyond and deeper than that.’
Roger rolled his eyes. ‘We could drill a hole and reach the other side of the earth before Zeb started spilling what he knows.’
Zeb smiled briefly, looked up a Bloomberg chart on the computer and beckoned them with a follow me gesture.
He led them to the bubble where he dialed out to Clare. ‘I think you need General Klouse sitting on this, ma’am,’ he told her when she came on.
She hung up and he called minutes later when he got her text message. The general growled at Broker when he came on the line. ‘Broker, you’re taking good care of your ass I notice, while Zeb puts his on the line.’
‘My ass is better looking than his,’ came the retort. ‘It needs to be looked after.’
Clare cut through the banter. ‘You’ve found something, Zeb? This isn’t about oil?’
‘It is, ma’am. But not in the way we were thinking of.’
He explained at length to an audience that was silent except for a sharply drawn breath from Clare. No one spoke for a minute when he had finished and then the general’s voice came on in disbelief. ‘Six years and no one noticed?’
‘Why would anyone, Sir? These are pretty common occurrences in the business world.’
‘Even so, someone would have noticed that the wells have stopped producing,’ Clare protested.
‘It’s not an uncommon phenomenon,’ Zeb explained. ‘I looked up the data before this chain of events started. Wells were running dry, or shutting down due to lack of funds ever since fracking began. This is the Wild West all over again. There is this enormous natural resource underneath us that promises energy independence and everyone wants to pile in on it. In the clamor, what’s a few wells shutting down?’
They heard a clicking sound, General Klouse playing with his pen in frustration. ‘But what’s the end game? It’s all very well to buy a few wells. So what?’
Zeb told them and the temperature in two offices in Washington D.C. dropped.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Sir, but my findings won’t stand up in a court.’
‘We’ll take care of that,’ Clare was brisk, all business. ‘Do you know who’s behind it?’
‘Not yet, but I know who does.’
‘Why’re you hanging around then? Go ask him.’
‘It won’t be pretty.’ Zeb admitted.
‘What happens to our country won’t be either, if we don’t stop them.’ General Klouse’s voice was hard and unrelenting.
‘So when are you folks heading out?’ Beth’s voice was muffled as she spoke around a mouth full of yogurt. Bwana grinned and waited for her to swallow before responding. ‘Boss man says we need to ammo up and understand Wasserman’s ranch, before we go in guns blazing. A week from his return, he said.’
Bwana, Roger, and the twins were in a café near their office, a favorite haunt of the twins. Zeb had left for D.C. following the call and was briefing Clare in greater detail, laying out the trail that led to Wasserman.
In his absence, Bwana, Roger, and Bear had stocked the Lear with enough equipment and weapons to mount an attack on a small country. Broker had reached out to his network and had amassed as much intel on the ranch and its inhabitants. ‘All hard as nails bad-asses,’ he commented, tossing the files at Bwana and Roger. ‘All of them are ex-servicemen. All were discharged from their militaries dishonorably. Wasserman has assembled a bunch of scum who know how to fight.’
Roger sat silently, gazing through the glass windows of the café, watching the city go by. The plan was for Bear, Bwana, Roger and Zeb to attack the ranch while Broker, Chloe, and the twins based themselves in the nearby town.
He was jolted out of his reverie when Bwana punched him in the shoulder. ‘You good to go, bro?’
‘Yeah. One week can’t go quick enough.’
Bear, Bwana, Roger, and Zeb were in Evanston two days later.
They had flown commercial to Jackson separately, had rendezvoused there, collected their equipment and one of their vehicles, and had driven across rugged country.
‘You think he fell for it?’ Bear y
elled at Zeb who was driving with the sunroof slid open. Zeb slid a glance at him and suppressed a smile at the sight of Bear’s beard quivering against the force of the wind.
‘Only one way to find out.’
Zeb figured Wasserman had deliberately made his call on un-secure phones to draw them in. He’ll probably have someone watching us. He made a few calls and arranged for decoys, four men who were similar in looks to the four of them, and using a rear exit that very few knew of, the four had left New York behind.
Bwana leaned forward and shouted in his ear. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Same as always. Go in hard, get our man, get his intel, shut him down and then shut down The Man.’
They were ten miles away from the ranch when he left U.S. 189 and followed a barely visible dirt track that cut across the country and curved in the direction of the ranch. He drove the dust-colored vehicle into a thicket when they were eight miles away and they unloaded their gear in silence.
From satellite photographs, they knew the ranch’s boundary, three miles from where they were, had wired fencing, but beyond that, they knew little of Wasserman’s security. They waited till dark had set in and when the first stars appeared; they set out in a single file, Zeb ahead, Bwana bringing up the rear. They moved like ghosts on the flat land, leaving no trail behind and when they saw the flash of wire in night light, they halted.
They spread out and dropped down while Bwana carefully unwrapped a case and brought out a drone. It was dull black with the same anti-reflective surface that was seen on stealth aircraft and was equipped with emission neutralization technology. The drone, like other stealth aircraft, left a barely visible signature on radar.
Zeb had used the drone on several missions, but this one was an upgrade and bristled with more technology than he cared to name. As long as it can fly undetected and take video and stills.
It rose silently with Roger at the control, Bear and Bwana on a monitor to guide him. It hovered once over them and vanished into the dark.
Four cameras switched on beneath the rotors and sent a single feed to the monitor, a feed that never failed to surprise Zeb with its crystalline clarity. ‘Night vision technology combined with…’ Broker voice trailed off when he saw the disinterest on Zeb’s face.