by E L Russell
“Just know that I am calling the CIA to send over a team. I’m not expecting any trouble, but we’ll do everything by the book to maintain a very low profile.”
“Yes, madam.”
Knowing Debby might be at her door in seconds, she speed dialed the agency and completed the call in her bedroom. They informed her the team would arrive within ten minutes and wait in the hallway for further instructions. She started to lock the windows to the balcony when her door bell chimed.
A quick check through the security peep hole revealed a disheveled curly hair blond in a tattered denim outfit confirmed Debby had arrived. She hit Charles’ call button twice and opened the door.
“Debby, come in, we need to talk.”
54
What Debby Shared
November, Debby’s promise
Meret opened the door, and Debby entered in disarray and agitation. She raised her chin to point toward a door across the room. "Through that door is your small guest suite, Debby. Grab a quick shower. I laid a robe out on the bed you can wear. While you're doing that I'll have a quick word with the hotel security." Keeping the door open a bit to keep an ear for Debby, Meret stepped into the hall and spoke softly to the two hotel security men. "The CIA is sending two agents to relieve you and will take charge of her. Again, she pointed with her chin. I'll let your captain know what is needed next. Thanks for everything."
After resetting the lock and deadbolt on the door, she called guests services and ordered lunch and a second guest basket of goodies, snacks and some practical items people tended to forget to pack. She heard soft sounds of crying from the bathroom of the small adjoining suite and, not wishing to intrude, she quietly put two bottles of sparkling water in an ice bucket next to Debby's bed, arranged the guest basket on the small three-chair table in the corner of Debby's suite near the balcony, and checked to ensure the balcony doors were locked.
The doorbell chimed. Too early for the lunch wagon.
She stood on tiptoes and looked through the peephole. Two men. Hmm. Dressed like CIA operatives. Her record greeting unknown men claiming to be CIA had a fifty-percent fail rate, so she quietly lifted her Glock 19 from her hidden hip holster. Then she opened the door.
She didn’t recognize them since her first encounter with Dirk Donahue and his scam, credentials meant little to her. Besides, if they were legit, she probably out-ranked them.
"We’ll do formal introductions later, gentlemen. For now, I need you to discreetly secure this apartment from the hall until Debby has finished her shower and I have regained a level of trust with my asset. It is mission-critical that I learn what she knows before either of us leaves this apartment.” Who do you report to?”
The shorter agent smiled. "That depends ma’am. Who are you?”
She showed them her CIA contractor’s ID.
The taller agent nodded. “Well, ma’am, we report to you.”
Hiding her surprise, she returned her Glock to her hip. "We won't be long. I'm expecting a luncheon service." She stepped into the hallway and pointed to the far end of the corridor. "The last two doors on this side of the hallway toward the elevator are also part of my suite and there are connecting doors. The last door opens to a small suite designed for four adults and should the need arise, can house a larger security detail. Take these." She handed them four room keys. "The rooms on the other side of the hallway are only used for visiting VIPs. They are currently empty. Questions?"
They glanced at one another with raised brows. "No ma’am.”
Meret back stepped into her apartment. "Thanks, we won't be long." Closing the door, she walked across the room and opened the drapes of two large windows overlooking the Washington skyline. She glanced at Debby's door understanding her need for sleep and safety, but with the agents in position, they were safe and it was time to move forward. In many ways, Meret felt better about her situation than she had, but knowing time was running out, she had to confer with Debby now. She knocked on the door to her small suite with her index finger knuckle and waited for Debby to open it. When she did, it was a much cleaner, younger version of Debby that filled the crack of the opening door. She wore a white terry cloth robe and had wrapped her hair in a towel.
"Did I take too long?"
"Not at all. For someone on the lamb that shower must have felt like a knockout pill. How do you feel now?”
"Hungry and tired. What did those men want?”
"They work for me." Meret stepped back removing herself from the door area with the hope that Debby would move into the space she created. "And they want to know the same things I do. There's a lunch cart coming, so how about joining me at that small table by the open window?"
Debby glanced at the front door and then with a fretful face mouthed, "Who are they?”
"They’re armed CIA Agents and I have assigned them to protect you. This hotel is safe. Did you know Former Presidents often reside on this floor as well as foreign dignitaries and their security teams?”
"This is to protect me from the people who killed my father?”
Meret continued walking away from the door and sat in the corner of the sofa. She gestured for Debby to join her. "How much has Special Agent Hawking told you about the work your father did with him?”
The young woman sat cross-legged, like a kid, at the opposite end of the couch. "I’d rather not talk about my father’s spy business.”
Meret gave her a lopsided grin. “Sorry about that.” She extended her legs and crossed them at the ankle to rest them on the sofa. "Let me share with you what I know. Your father learned that some men wanted to use the desert of Yemen to hide their terrible business. They were not men of Yemen, but foreign elements. Did your father tell you what these men were planning to do?”
"No, and I’m sure my father didn’t either. He would not have anything to do with evil mean.”
"You are correct. You father was only helping Agent Hawking to locate these men. We knew they were testing a weapon. A terrible weapon they planned to launch from the Yemen desert into the tiny island of Socotra. In order to carry out their plan, they paid, blackmailed, coerced, and killed many innocent people. Your boyfriend, Henri was hired to do a special job these people. When he discovered their plans, Henri knew his life was in danger. Concerned they would track him down, kill him and anyone close to him, and that would certainly include you, he fled. Of course, they went after him.
I was helping Granger Hawking find Henri. When we traced him to your party and found him in a panic, we realized something was terribly wrong. Something or someone at your party terrified him that you were in danger if you stuck with him.” She dropped her feet to the floor and learned toward the girl.
“Do you see? He fixed it so you couldn’t follow him. That’s why he injected you with a sedative. Then he ran lit out on his own and latter connected up with me before running off again. I wish I could find him and bring him here to be safe with you.”
Debby lowered her chin and spoke to her lap. "He told me he’d send for me once he found a safe place.” She fidgeted with her hands. "I think he missed his chance.”
Meret scooted to the edge of the couch to face her. "We believe Henri is too clever to get caught.” The girl deserved the truth and needed to hear things the CIA debriefing wouldn’t provide.
Debby looked like a cornered rabbit, her fear palpable "What’s going to happen to me? Why did your people bring me here? Don’t let them hurt Henri. Promise me I’ll see him again.”
"How about I get us both some tea? We’ll sort out how we can convince him he’s safer with you.”
Meret set out two mugs of Chamomile tea, hoping the ads that promised a calming affect were true. After adding a tin of shortbread biscuits sent to her by a friend, she cautiously launched into a description of what Debby’s life might look like during the next twelve months. In the face of her young charge’s disbelief, she struggled to assure her that she and Henri would be safe and protected. " Granger needs Henri. He, alon
g with one of his friends, can stop the next attack. If Granger can’t convince him to cooperate, hundreds American political leaders will die. The CIA will interview you here, in my apartment, not as a suspect, but as someone working with us in our effort to bring justice for those innocents killed to satisfy others in their insatiable need for money and power."
"I’d want to help, but don’t know anything about these people.” She ran the back of her hand across her nose in a loud sniff. “God. If I could, I’d kill them myself for killing my father.”
Meret set her cup on the small table next to the couch. "I believe you. Our immediate need is to locate Henri and bring him in so he can be protected."
Debby barely nodded and Meret changed directions. "When was the last time you saw Piero della Francesca?"
She jerked here head back, the question taking her by surprise. "At my apartment in Rome on the night Henri left me unconscious." She covered her face. "It's all my fault. I thought Henri was pissed because I was talking to his friend. Piero only asked me where the back door led and then he vanished. When I told Henri, he took me to my room. We argued. Then that's when he put me to sleep."
"Is that when he left your apartment?”
She nodded.
"Do you have any idea where Piero might be?”
For all that she took a moment to consider, Debby finally shook her head.
Meret was getting nowhere and needed the pros. "I’m going to ask the agents to have some tea with us. Perhaps there are some things you almost remember or items that don’t seem so important to you but are to us. Do you mind? I’ll sit in.”
Debby’s eyes had grown large with a panic.
"Do you know what a safe word is?” Meret asked, in a effort to settle her.
"A Safe word? No. Safe for what?”
"If, during the conversation with the agents, you feel you’ve had too much, or you need to speak with me in private, or if you need a restroom break, say the word. We’ll make it ‘private.’ When I hear you use the word ‘private’ I’ll take you to another room. Does that sound good?”
"Yes.” her eyes lost their glazed look. “Good. Very good.”
At first, the CIA agents balked at her request to be present during the interrogation. While they were assigned to protect Meret, they seemed unsure of her security clearance. Without discussing the matter, Meret tapped Director Davies' icon on her cell phone and handed it to one of the agents react to his command.
* * *
Meret marveled at the skillful pairing of questions agents McElroy and Kearny asked Debby. The seemingly scripted queries guided her through a memory of events she didn’t know she’d known, let alone forgotten. Time and again she’d say she couldn’t remember, then one of the men changed the innuendo in the words in the question and she add a small morsel of memory. Or she’d say didn’t know, but a rephrased enquiry, brought out the lost puzzle piece.
Meret was breathless at their skill. Not only were they able to pinpoint Henri's most probable location, but they also learned that Piero had given Henri access to his private messenger app on TOR and Henri had given it to Debby. That was the only way the three of them could communicate with some security.
Meret led McElroy and Kearny out to the hall away from Debby’s hearing. "You guys were amazing. Now we need to set up a secure CIA air-gapped network in the end suite as a bridge between Henri and our team. We can count on Henri and Piero as master black hat hackers to have already air-gapped their end or they'll never use it. This is important. Tell your people to provide our CPU and chassis fans with secure external power sources to eliminate the hackers from using a Fansmitter hack. Then cover the fan and box them with electromagnetic shields. I think we—."
The agents gave each other a look before the tall one sputtered, "Fansmittering? How long have you known about Fansmittering?"
Meret pulled back her chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we do. We increased our secure computer’s level of security by removing a hacker's ability to monitor changes in the computer's cooling fan's spin speed due to it’s having to share electrical power with the computer.”
McElroy swallowed a grin. “So this girl, Debby, has good information."
“She does and we need to be careful for her safety. You witnessed how important she is to bringing Henri and Piero in.”
Agent Kearny threw out a hand. “Of course. We’ll make sure her computer’s totally secure.”
"One more thing, Meret said, “the three of us need to set up some basic scripting for Debby’s debriefing so she sees herself as Henri’s safety net. Then, hopefully, she can convince him we’re concerned for his safety. Get legal to look at what we can do to grant him the highest level of immunity we can to promise. Whether Piero is with Henri or hiding out on his own, Granger needs to talk to him. Let's hope both runners are still alive."
Meret shut and locked the door to her apartment. This was good news, too good to keep to herself. She found Debby in the kitchen holding a large knife.
Not good.
She waved the knife in Meret’s direction. "This won’t work. It doesn’t fit.”
Meret noticed the small open peanut butter jar on the table. Phew!
"It’s the last drawer on your right,” she chuckled. “You had me going.”
Debby cleaned the tip of the butcher knife with her finger and then cleaned her finger with her lips.
"You did a good job with the agents, Debby. We found a way you can talk to Henri without letting anyone know where he is. The CIA’s going to set you up with your own protected and encrypted computer with access to TOR. We can establish a false identity on the dark web so can get your secret message account. That way, until we can demonstrate a level of trust with Henri, you can continue to talk with him. While we’re working with our legal team to establish immunity for Henri, you won't have to wait for that. They're bringing a secure desktop processor over later this afternoon. Are you comfortable with that? Can you work inside TOR?"
Debby replied with the slightest hint of mistrust. "I already have a TOR messenger account.”
"Was it an app on your smart phone?”
Debby’s hand reached for her back pocket.
Meret said, "We didn’t find any phones at your apartment.”
She exhaled, and her shoulder dropped. "Henri must have taken it so no one could use it to find him."
"Well, the desktop is too big to carry around, but until Henri decides to join us here, you won’t be going out that much.”
Debby’s jaw dropped. "You mean here? Henri could hide out here? Behind guns? With me?”
"Sure, if that’s what the two of you want. At least we can do that until the threat to both of you has passed. What do you think?”
"All I want is for this to be over. I haven't . . . " Debby's eyes welled, and the corners of her mouth turned down in sorrow.
“What is it, Debby?”
"My father. I don't know if he had time to say the Shahaadah. You know. So he could go to Jannah to be with my mother in death. Did anyone destroy his body? Did they bury him?"
"I don’t know, but I’ll do everything possible to find out for you.”
Meret’s cell vibrated, and she looked at the text message holding one finger in the air. "Sorry, this is from Granger. Oh. He says I have return to the farm, uh, the CIA headquarters." She returned her phone to her pocket and rummaged through the drawers in the kitchen while talking to Debby. "You okay here? Granger wasn't clear about— Oh, here it is." She placed two small, narrow white boxes on the granite counter and opened the smallest one. "This is a special pen that records audio in the air around you and everything you write with it. Go ahead, open the other box."
Debby opened it as though it might explode and then removed a thin gold necklace with a pendant resembling a miniature beetle. "It's pretty. What does it do?"
"It's a tracker. Wear it in the open where anyone can see it. If you are ever in danger simply squeeze it and someone will come running .
. . and trust me, they'll be armed."
55
Catch Up
Mid November, Langley - Meret reviews procedures
With Debby communicating safely to Henri and Pietro with a hidden, secure message account on the Dark Web via TOR, Meret rushed to meet with Granger at CIA Headquarters in Langley to examine the status of the Company’s efforts to gear up for more focused surveillance using Dr. Zhen’s beetles.
They entered the large, quiet, windowless, low-lit basement workroom. Instead of taking one of the short staircases down to the floor, they remained on the elevated platform, leaning on metal guardrails overlooking 512 cubicles.
Each cubby supported a trained reconnaissance agent wearing a identical headphones with one hand on a joystick and the other hovering by a touch screen. A low hum of indistinguishable sound mingled with the steady soft tap on keys and drifted, ever so faintly, up to their perch. The only perceivable movements came from large, flat-screen monitors flickering with gradients of intensity. Occasionally, in some corner of the huge workspace, a low voice broke through the quiet, which meant something that might prove meaningful had occurred.
The sound of a headset tossed aside followed by a chair being pushed back startled Meret. Someone walked rapidly to a side door, hissing profanities and she tugged Granger’s shirt. "Oh, shit, I think a beetle bit the dust.”
He sneered, “How the hell are we going to find a damn thing if these things keep crashing?” Then he ran his hand through his hair, making it stand out like a deranged mad scientist.
Meret bit her tongue not to lash back. Occasionally, one crashed, more often it was due to handler-error than anything else. For the most part, her little fleet was doing everything it was being asked to do. These babies cost 20k a bot. They did not simply crash land without someone’s help.