by E L Russell
“Your research and recent work is of great interest to me and to this organization.”
“Thank you, Director Davies, but I thought the CIA was all about communication and acquiring data. Global monitoring and processing data on foreign INTELligence wouldn’t seem to have much to do with me.”
He put his pen down, sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “SA Agent Fairchild, and others, tell me you are a person who may be the one to take certain aspects of your science to the next level. What you told us about that beetle drone confirms our expectations. You and your consulting team need to be apart of our efforts for this and future projects,”
What the hell did he just say? “I’m confused, how I’m supposed to fit in the CIA?”
He flashed a closed mouth smile. “No, not in, but with us. Every organization and the people in it are shaped by its culture. That includes how we think and how we react to new situations.” He paused as though searching for a word. “Over the years we’ve developed procedures and tools. This, ah, toolbox of ours is, in my opinion, is limiting our ability to quickly analyze and respond to new situations.”
Okay, I think I know where he’s going with this. “What exactly does your division of CIA do?”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest with a small nod. “Communication, and data . . . that’s pretty much what we do. What technology drives those two things?”
Meret said, “Computer technology.”
A short bob of his head said she was on the right track. “This division, my division, is very interested in computers. We’re like the DARPA of the CIA when it comes to computers. For instance, if someone were to develop a better Quantum computer, then we need know that. We need to know all about it.Your beetle bot technology’s like that.”
“I’m a genomic forensic scientist, not a hacker.” She glared at him, or at least she suspected she did. For an agency that dealt with communication, they were pretty damn poor at it.
“Of course you are. You are one of the top hackers on the planet. You hack the hell out of one of the most fascinating 4-bit organic computer known to exist.”
“You’re talking about DNA?”
“Of course.”
“And how does communication fit in with the trillion strands DNA we call the genome?”
He threw his pointed finger at her. “You’ve already covered that better than anyone in several of your lectures.”
“How would you know that? I don’t record my lectures and most of the time I don’t work from notes.”
She nodded. Ah. That flash of a knowing smile is one of his tells.
His face beamed with pleasure. “Of course, that and your speculation about the capabilities of the micro genome communicating and working in cooperation within that bio network are only a few of the things that got our attention.”
Before she could respond, he added, “Become a special consultant with us and help us out with a few things. You may find us a bit frustrating to work with, but blame that on our organization’s culture. I’ll need you to study it, not accept it at face value.”
What was he getting at? Her brain tried out a few ideas and rejected them all. “I’m not sure I know what you refer to.”
His expression, which had held warmth, grew cold. “Let me respond by asking you one more question. Do you know what time it is?” He paused for a response.
“10:15 . . . in the morning.”
The edges if his lips curled up, but no smile lit his eyes. He twirled a finger in the air. “Too much information. That’s not what I asked. You see, in our culture, you gave away too much information. Does that tell you anything about what it might be like working within our company? Try again. Do you know what time it is?”
Oh, shit, too much information. She bit her cheek and nodded. “Yes.”
He took out his pen and rapidly clicked it several times before writing some figures on a note pad. “In addition to the money we gave you to cover the lab expenses for your initial work, consider this a personal honorarium as compensation for your first thirty days part of the vetting process. We have established an offshore account for you. When you incorporate your consulting firm we can be a bit more transparent about paying for your services. You may decide the program is not for you and opt out at any time. I’ll have you back in Houston, no questions asked, within 24 hours.” He clicked his pen closed and returned it to his Jacket. With some ceremony, he tore off the top sheet of paper and pushed the folded note across the table toward her. “This is for your consideration to work with us, regardless of how many days you stay during the next thirty.”
She slowly unfolded the note and tried to stifle any telling reactions. “This is quite generous, Mr. Director.” She placed it in her handbag and rolled her eyes upwards to look at him. “My first consulting job is to help you find Special Agent Granger Hawking, correct?”
“Yes, I’m pleased you have already begin. Tell me, what is in the package of explosives you had us put into one of our planes for delivery here?”
“A project that—”
He held up his palm like a street crossing guide. “Stop.” He leaned forward on his forearms and stifled a little laugh. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes.” Her smile grew from a small grin to a wide smile. “Yes, Mr. Director.”
“Very well, continue.”
“A project that we have recently developed will search for SA Agent Hawking within ten miles of this facility. Once we identify the building he’s in, we will also be able to identify exactly which room in the building is currently holding him. We have the ability to monitor and record visual and audio data. We can harvest, analyze and transmit DNA information. The explosives you mentioned can kill selected individuals or destroy the building they’re in. Everything ’s run from a cell phone.” She reached in her bag and slid her fist across the table toward him. “This one is unarmed.” Removing her hand, she said, “It’s one of our ‘snifferbots’ and this one’s disguised as a Yemen Spotted Yellow Ladybird beetle. With it I believe we can locate and rescue Granger Hawking.”
20
Crime Scene
Early May, vetting in the Field, Yemen - Director Davies
After her meeting with Director Davies, Meret met SA Steve Fairchild in his room at the temporary field station to catch a bite to eat and plan their next step. She watched him rearrange objects and papers making space for their small paper plates of donuts and sandwiches. He reached across the table to pour their coffee, next to his empty plate. “Careful, you’re getting white gravy on your cuff.”
He wiped it with his napkin and touched an icon on his cell’s screen, waiting until it blinked green.Then he handed it to her. “It’s for you. Encrypted and traceable. Uses speed dial only. Guess who’s number one?”
She rotated it in her hand and laid it next to her toast without comment.
He opened an envelope and gave her a small gold brooch. “It goes with the phone. If the distance between them is greater than fifty yards, both transmit silent electronic pings allowing us to initiate a trace on each. It is your safety net, or back up. Call it what you will. It alerts us if you need help.”
“Why would I need such help?”
“It’s standard operational procedure.”
Meret studied the piece of jewelry in her palm. “This small thing? Do I pin it in my ear or on my clothing?” She rotated it with her index finger. “Do I hide it?”
“No, no. Hidden objects are always found and raise flags in covert operations.”
She pulled her chin in. “Covert? That word again. This is beginning to sound like something I am not sure I’m interested in. You’re talking spy shit, aren’t you?”
He waved his hand. “No, I’m simply installing good habits. We require all our consulting groups to maintain a high level of security. Remember why you’re here, Mary.”
“Installing good habits? This is only a one-time consult, right?”
&nbs
p; He paused, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “Of course, but there may be options for you in it.”
“Ah.” By now, she was totally suspicious of his obfuscation. “I think it’s time to learn what’s in the envelope.”
“Just a few simple forms for the record. When you get back, you may have your attorney review them, if you wish.”
Meret tapped her finger on the small stack of papers. “Of course. Am I being vetted?”
“Would you expect less from us?”
His attempt at glib humor fell short.
“I would think you already knew everything about me.”
The ends of his lips turned up.
She went for closure. “Steve, any chance you’re still pissed at having to spend your time with me instead of being here earlier to locate Granger?” She spread her arms spread wide, “You realize you’re are looking at the only person who actually stands a chance of finding him without torturing some local or asset. I need to know how far the CIA expects me to go.”
He sipped some water and then spoke in a low, flat tone. His eyes took on a cold steel veneer she found alarmingly strange. “All I know is that we picked up some chatter about a group in Yemen gathering materials and supplies for a possible biological attack in the near future. We do not know their intention, their target, or even who they might be. I need you to help me review the INTEL with my people on site as it unfolds to help us get in front of this activity and possible end it.”
“Oh.” The fingers of her left hand began to play the tabletop like a piano. “You said go with you. Into the desert?”
“Actually, I think he’s close by and not in some desert hut. I’m for starting with that amusement park near the National Museum where we lost him.”
“What about the other problem, the possible biological attack?”
He shook his head. “I can’t separate them in my head.”
“Was that call you took while waiting for me, the first you learned of this terrorist plot?”
His voice grew impatient. “We got wind of some new chatter on the way over in the plane yesterday.” He placed both hands on the edge of the table in front of him and inhaled. “After our analysis’s looked at many pieces of data, they concluded that someone met him at Aden’s Seera Fun City and they drove off in a private car.”
“How did they know that? This information gathering is new to me.”
“Granger’s asset took his two young boys to the park as part of his cover for meeting Granger. Airport security interviewed the older son who was highly agitated by the sudden separation from his father. They ignored the younger son who just wanted to go home. A followup by one of our female operatives discovered the younger boy remembered things the older son did not. According to him, several men and a nearby woman and escorted granger to her SUV and drove away. See, two seemingly unrelated events, meaningful only in the larger perspective.”
“Yea, a real research moment. Go on.”
“There’s more, the asset may have come to the local authority’s attention for other reasons. He was being tailed by them and when the group got in to the SUV, they followed him north on the costal highway past an upscale residential section just north of the Junction of 90 near the Hotel Mercure Aden. That’s where they lost him. Our analysts think Granger and his asset are being in this residential section that might serve some unknown group’s safe house.”
“That’s good, right? Better than some mud hut in the open desert?”
“Not if you consider you a covert operation could ever succeed in suburbia. We need to check out the hotel first.”
“So, do you think they have him in the Hotel Mercure Aden?”
“No, they used the hotel to deal with the asset. I learned after we touched down his body turned up dead after an apparent fall from one of the upper floor in this hotel. They didn’t act like they needed his information and didn’t waste any time getting rid of him. This whole operation sounds upscale.”
“Oh, shit. Was he a jumper or was he pushed?” She walked to the window.
“Still under investigation by locals.”
“Any chance the locals will let us see the body?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“How about some trace, like hair or blood?”
“Better chance, but not likely.”
“Where did they find his body, pool, grass, or concrete?”
He slapped his fist into his palm. “Splat, right on concrete. Oh, good thinking, I see, you’re going for trace. They probably moved the body, but fortunately for us, roped off the scene to examine it for clues and have to wait for a cleanup. We can’t go there, they’ll also guard it through night.”
She reached behind her neck and undid the clasp on her necklace. Gently removing the gold chain, she held the small egg sized black beetle in her hand for him to see. “Meet Ringo.” She placed the beetle on the table and placed her smart phone between them. After one glance to see if the door to his room was open, she touched the beetle icon on her screen named Ringo. “Watch Steve, this technology changes everything.”
After one touch, Ringo rose to two meters from the floor and hovered. The screen of the smart phone displayed the two of them; one smiling and the other with a wide mouth. She held the screen in landscape format with her thumbs over two images of joy sticks. The app had turned the screen into a virtual cockpit. Other buttons appeared, but for now she ignored them. Steve couldn’t know she only logged four hours of training, but for this mission, that would be all she needed. The beetle flew through the open door and gracefully circled around the warehouse undetected by those working there. Once out side she flew above the buildings and looked for the Arabian Sea and the costal highway. She flew south for a few minutes.
“How many stories in the Mercure Aden?”
He stared with wide eyes at the street scene below. “About six, but with its red name on top you’ll have no problem recognizing it. The ocean side is terraced and you can’t fall more than one floor. My guess is to look for the jumper’s remains on the parking lot next to the west side rooms except in the middle where the lower hotel facilities make jumping out of a window not a sure kill. You got enough power to look around?”
“About six hours. It can recharge in the sunlight.”
“We’re good, right?”
“We’re good.” The sprawling white hotel was easy to identify. She took his suggestion and hovered over the north end of the hotels whose rooms faced west. Seeing no activity or guards on the parking lot, she flew the beetle over to the south end of the building.
“There, I see a roped off section with some cars parked nearby.”
“How close can you get?”
“I’m going to feather Ringo directly into the center. He only makes a dull hum except for rapid takeoffs.”
“How will he get samples?”
“Ah, see the cracks in the surface filled with tar? I’m going to stick Ringo’s nose in a big crack. There’s a better chance of finding more of the asset’s blood. This icon makes Ringo quickly wipe the surface with a sticky proboscis-like tube that also sucks a sample into a miniature plastic tube that seals and slides silently into an assigned slot in a very small disk, much like an automatic rifle played backwards. Once inside, another system automatically analyzes the substance, collects data for seventeen non-DNA tests. The DNA samples are analyzed after the bot returns to base. The return trip, by the way, can be automatic if we hit the mission complete button. If unable to make the return trip, the beetle will self destruct after uploading all data.”
“Damn, that’s a piece of work you got there, doctor. A real piece of work.”
“Nano technology is our friend.”
21
It Begins
Early May, North Coast, Socotra - Front Row Seats
Silhouetted by the rising sun, a private helicopter feathered to a quiet landing at the top of a low mountain. Two security men jumped to the ground accompanied by company op
erative, Katya Kornilova. While one scanned the area for intruders, the other quickly opened the rear door and helped the diminutive Dr. Subash Sen deplane. The pilot removed two folded lawn chairs from storage and, stood at attention while Subash checked his cell phone. After a few brief words, the security team returned to their seats as the pilot carrying them as he would suit cases, followed Katya and the doctor up a gentle rise overlooking the ocean.
After they maneuvered near the edge of the cliff, the scientist stopped and looked back on the security men in the copter. Satisfied seeing them guarding their perimeter from within the sheltered depression where they landed, he began to sweep away small rocks with his foot, clearing a small flat space for their chairs. After methodically repositioning his chair several times, and re-checking his cell phone, he brushed dust from his heavily starched white shirt and sat. Katya paced behind the chairs arguing on her cell phone. “Do whatever you need to do, Donahue, just get those fucking drones airborne. We’re scheduled to board a public jet to Berlin within an hour of your flyby. We can’t afford to wait for the next one. All hell will soon break loose here and the airport will be the first thing the government shuts down. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Sen’s code of ethics so move yours.”
Sweat poured from him. What had he done? In bending to the pressure of that woman, he had become a monster. Thousands would die. They would die so the bitch would not kill his family.
Yet an unexpected thrill rushed through him at the power he welded. He could be the commander and chief of an army with such power. He pulled at his collar to opened a button and swiveled his head toward Katya. She returned his glance with a dare in her stare. Why is she staring that way? The attack was now in motion. He could do nothing now. Why had he come? To see his power? His stomach lurched and for a moment, he thought he would throw up. He swallowed hard, but he would make the same decision again. He would do anything to save his wife and daughters.