“To prosperity,” Congressman Sanchez said and raised his glass of rosé and took a healthy drink.
When he put his glass down and reached for a fork to try the tender sweetbreads, another footman took his place behind his chair. As Sanchez leaned forward to take his first bite, a fine wire was looped over his head.
As Walker scooted his chair back to watch, Canaan kept his right leg against the back of the chair and pulled hard on the two wooden handles of the garrote. The congressman struggled and tried in vain to keep the sharp wire from cutting deeply into his neck. As his trachea was severely constricted and the supply of oxygenated blood to his brain was cut off, Congressman Sanchez stopped struggling and died in less than a minute.
Canaan continued pulling on the handles of the garrote until Walker finally said, “He’s dead, Saleem. Don’t decapitate him. I don’t need a mess in here.”
As Canaan obediently removed the wire from around the dead man’s neck and stepped back, Walker snapped his fingers and two of his security staff entered the dining room and picked up the body.
“Saleem,” Walker said, “the congressman unfortunately didn’t have time to enjoy his dinner, so please sit and enjoy it for him.”
Canaan pulled another chair to the table and picked up a clean napkin to clean his garrote. “This has become one of my favorite tools,” he said. “The wire is actually a very strong fiber that cannot be detected by a metal detector. With the handles detached, the screeners at airports have no idea what it is. What arrangements have you made to dispose of the body?”
“My men will take care of it. He will be buried at sea, and we will avoid the possibility that he would involve us when his relationship to Klein and Parker is investigated.” Walker took another bite of the sweetbreads.
Canaan smiled. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Just like you did in Oregon when you tied up all the loose ends and had your own man blown out of the sky. Am I next?”
“Do I need to worry about you, Mr. Canaan? I rather thought your willingness to die for Allah was the reason I didn’t need to worry.”
“Oh, I’m prepared to die a martyr’s death, if necessary. What I’m not willing to do is sacrifice myself for you or your Alliance. You use our jihad to make money, just like the cartels do, but that doesn’t mean we share a common goal.”
“I’m afraid that strategic decisions are made at a much higher level than the one at which you operate, Mr. Canaan. Come. Join me and at least have the good manners your leaders expected of you when they assigned you to work with me. If you expect me to give you high marks for your service, you’ll do as I say until I no longer need you. Then you can return to Mexico and continue your war with the West.”
Speaking to Canaan as if he were a petulant young boy told to eat his broccoli, Walker suddenly realized, as Canaan joined him at the table, that there might have to be a change in his plans where the young jihadi was concerned.
Chapter 59
Fresh from showering and changing into more casual clothes, Drake took the elevator from his room to the 39th floor, where he found Liz sitting at a small cocktail table next to a window looking out over the Bay.
Like him, she had dressed casually, and with her hair swept back over her ears, she looked like a well-bred woman from an aristocratic family who didn’t have to work at being beautiful or looking rich because it just came naturally.
Drake took a seat across from her. “You look like a million bucks, Liz. Rose is a good color for you.”
“Thank you. It’s one of my favorite colors. Are you ready for a glass of really good wine?”
“I am. What are we drinking?”
“I think you’ll like it. But while we’re waiting for it, I need to tell you what I’ve learned. We’re still trying to identify our mysterious Mr. Capelli. We’re sending investigators to the university where he said he received his master’s degree, the University of California, San Diego, to see if anyone there recognizes him. There’s no evidence that Anthony Capelli was ever enrolled there, though he might have enrolled under another name.
“We’re making some progress with his finances, though. He was receiving $10,000 a month from a bank account in Singapore. The account belongs to a financial holding company in London that we think is somehow allied with Pacific First Security Bank of California. We should know more tomorrow.”
While the wine server poured her a taste of the wine she had ordered and she approved it with a nod of her head, Drake wondered why a major California bank was possibly paying an IT saboteur $10,000 a month. When his wine had been poured, he took a drink.
“Tell me what you think,” Strobel said.
“Sleek and understated,” he said, and she laughed. “Okay. Seriously, it’s very good. There’s smoky oak, dried berry, sage and maybe anise. What is it?”
“A 2009 Acacia Russian River pinot. You’re good.”
“It’s a hobby,” he said with a casual shrug. “I hope someday I’ll have my old vineyard replanted and make some wine myself. Would you allow me to order some food?”
“Order away. I’ve famished.”
Drake studied the menu, then signaled their waiter. He was ordering a selection of hummus and pita bread, green salad, and pepper prawns for each of them when his cell phone vibrated.
He looked at it. “I need to take this, he told her. “Be right back.”
He walked out to the reception area. “Hello, Kevin,” he said. “What did you find?”
“I took a peek at the entity you were interested in, Mr. Drake. The assets you mentioned, the condo and car, are on the books there. There’s no record they were being purchased by anyone.”
“Were those assets signed out to anyone?”
“It lists the president of the bank as the last person to use either of them.”
“When was that?”
“Ten days ago,” McRoberts said.
“Did you find a home address for him?” Drake asked to borrow a pen and paper at the front desk and jotted down the name and address of the bank president. “Thanks, Kevin. I appreciate you getting on this so quickly.”
“Mr. Casey told me to make it a top priority.”
“Tell Mike thanks, too. And send a bill for your time to my office.”
When he returned, he saw that their food had arrived and his guest was helping herself to the hummus.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
“Let’s enjoy our dinner,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Then maybe we’ll have a chance later to talk with that bank president we couldn’t find.”
Chapter 60
Drake’s car was waiting for them at the valet stand. He entered the address the hacker had given him into the Audi’s GPS and started driving toward Pacific Avenue.
“What are you planning on doing when we get there?” Strobel asked.
“I’m going to politely ask to see Mr. Walker. And then I’m going to find out why his bank is letting a murderer use its swanky condo and a BMW.”
“And if he doesn’t tell you why?”
“Then I’ll suggest that paying said murderer $10,000 a month makes him an accessory, and will he please remain in his residence until the police arrive.”
“What do I get to do?”
“Distract him with your good looks. Beautiful women make some men nervous.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” she said, “but you’re starting to make me nervous. What if Walker isn’t just one of your run-of-the-mill crooked bank presidents? What if he’s actually involved in planting the worm at EIS?”
“That’s when you get to call in the troops and really scare the hell out of him. Don’t worry. I don’t expect this to be anything dangerous. We just need a few questions answered.”
Drake turned west off of Pine onto Pacific Avenue and entered the exclusive residential a
rea of Pacific Heights. They drove in silence down the tree-lined street until the GPS told them, Your destination is ahead, one hundred feet on the right.
“If that’s his house,” Strobel said as she stared at the three-story mansion, “my daddy chose the wrong line of work. That has to be worth six or seven million dollars.”
“Closer to eight, according to Mike’s hacker.” Drake slowed to pull into an open parking space less than a block from the mansion. As he turned the car off, they saw a man walking down the stairs from the mansion’s front door and put on the motorcycle helmet he was carrying. It was too far away to see his face clearly, but there was something familiar about him and the helmet.
Drake and Strobel had taken just one step when they heard a motorcycle roar to life up ahead on their side of the street. It made a U-turn and came toward them, and when it passed them Drake recognized the Suzuki Hayabusa he’d seen at David Klein’s Lake Tahoe estate.
“Get in the car!” he shouted. “That’s Capelli!”
Before Strobel’s door was shut, Drake started the Audi. When she was in, he made a quick Y-turn and gave chase, burning rubber down the quiet street.
“You sure that’s him?” she asked as she fastened her seatbelt.
“That’s the same Suzuki we saw in Tahoe. See if you can get his license when I get close enough.”
“Good luck with that. He must have recognized you. He’s flying.”
“He’ll slow at the next busy cross street. Get out your phone and take a picture. There might be enough light so we can blow it up and call it in.”
Drake used the quick acceleration of the Audi to pull within twenty yards of the motorcycle as it raced through the intersection of Pacific Avenue and Gough Street. As he slowed to avoid a minivan entering the intersection, he glanced over and saw that Strobel was studying the picture she had just taken.
“I think I got it,” she said. “I should be able to upload this on my laptop and blow it up.”
“Good, because there’s no way I can keep up with this guy.”
Which proved to be true as they watched the motorcycle sweep left onto Franklin Street at the next intersection and speed away.
“You really think that was Capelli? He never looked back to see if we were following him?”
“It was him,” Drake said. “Do you want to stop at an Internet café or go back to your hotel to blow up the picture you took?”
“My hotel will be faster, I think.”
Drake headed to the Huntington Hotel and was a block away when his cell phone vibrated in its console mount.
“Adam, we have a problem,” Bill Bradford said. “Can you come back to Hunter’s Point?”
“What kind of problem?”
“The worm activates a command when a detection and removal kit is used. If we try to remove the worm, it accelerates the execution command on its own.”
“When is it set to execute if the detection kit isn’t used?”
“It’s programmed to execute at noon tomorrow.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Is Ms. Strobel with you?”
“She is. Why?”
We might need to get Washington involved after all.”
Drake drove on past the Huntington. “That was Bradford,” he said. “He wants us back at EIS. They’ve run into a problem and may need your help.”
Chapter 61
Bradford was waiting for them in his office. The possibility of failure was evident in the dejected look on his face.
“The virus has been modified,” he said as they sat down in front of his desk, “to not only attack and destroy our energy grid, it’s also been designed to execute on its own if anyone tries to remove or patch it.” He shook his head. “Whoever worked on this thing is very, very good.”
“Did you find out how many of your clients have already installed your software?” Strobel asked.
“Seventeen of the larger utilities are far enough along that the damage is already done.”
“If we don’t find a way to fix this, is that enough to bring down the grid?”
“We don’t know Liz. The cascading effect of a large utility’s failure on other utilities down the line is hard to predict. It’s possible.”
Drake leaned forward. “Bill, you said that whoever worked on this virus to target electric utilities is good. Does that shorten the list of people we should be looking for?”
“It might. This virus is identical to the Stuxnet worm that attacked Iran’s nuclear program, with a few tweaks so it’s effective against electric utilities. It targets large transformers, making them fail. I really can’t see Iran behind this, despite the rumor, because it constitutes an act of war. I don’t think they’re that stupid. They want their nukes. If Israel developed the Flame, with or without our help, they have people who could do this. But then, so do we, assuming we were in on the development of the worm.”
“If our two dead solar guys were behind this, do you think they had the contacts to reach out to Iran and gain access to this worm?”
Bradford could only shake his head again. “Adam, I thought I knew these guys, so I’m probably the wrong guy to ask. But from what I know, they weren’t marketing overseas. And I never saw them with anyone from that part of the world. The Mid-East.”
“Well,” said Drake, “the Israelis would never attack us. Unless we keep fooling around, trying to appease their enemies. So our best bet might be to focus on people here in the States who have access and enough talent to do this. Right?”
“We’re already doing that, Adam,” Strobel said. “I have DHS special agents interviewing everyone who worked on analyzing or, I will concede, may have helped develop, the worm.
“If we only have until noon on Thursday,” Bradford said, “they better speed it up. Do you know how far along they are?”
“Let me call and find out.” She reached into her purse for her phone. “Bill, Adam, do you want me to call in someone from Washington?”
“I don’t know what Washington could do that we aren’t already doing,” Bradford said. “I’ve called Symantec, and they’re sending a rapid response team from Santa Monica to assist us. They’ll be here by morning.”
Drake turned to her. “Liz, why don’t you check in with your people and find out how the interviews are going. Maybe speed them up, given our new deadline. When you’re finished, let’s see if we can make out the license plate on that motorcycle we saw.”
As Strobel left Bradford’s office to call DHS, Drake told the CEO about their drive to question the bank president and how they’d seen Capelli on the motorcycle.
“Let me have her phone when she gets back,” Bradford said, “and I’ll have the license for you in seconds. What do you think he was doing at the bank president’s place?”
“I think they’re both involved. I just can’t figure out how. Judging by his mansion on Pacific Avenue, though, I can’t see the bank president and Capelli running in the same circle.”
Strobel returned and Drake asked her to let Bradford have her phone. After connecting her iPhone to his PC, Bradford hit a couple of keys and wrote the license number on a Post-it note.
“California plate 2STZ012,” he said.
Drake took the Post-it note and called Detective Cabrillo of the San Francisco Police Department.
“Mr. Drake,” Cabrillo said, “What is so important that you had to call me at home?”
“Sorry, Detective. They didn’t tell me you were at home.”
“They weren’t supposed to.”
Drake smiled. “I think I might know who killed Nick Kawasaki,” he said. “And a few other people. Are you still handling the case?”
“Until it’s closed, yes, I am. Tell me what you have.”
Drake told the detective about seeing Capelli at the Queen Mary, then about the
murders at Lake Tahoe and the motorcycle rider’s employment and probable involvement in the sabotage of an important project at EIS.
“I saw him tonight,” he finished. “On the same motorcycle he was riding in Nevada. I think you need to pick him up so we can talk to him.”
“I appreciate your help, Mr. Drake, but unless you have more than that, I can’t pick him up. Is there a warrant for his arrest in Nevada?”
“You’d have to check on that. This is important, Detective. I can’t explain it all now, but we don’t have a lot of time to find this guy.”
Cabrillo was starting to apologize for not being able to do what Drake was asking when Strobel reached for the phone.
“Let me talk to him,” she said to Drake. He handed her the phone. “Detective Cabrillo,” she said, “my name is Elizabeth Strobel. I am the executive assistant to the Secretary of Homeland Security. I am also a special agent at DHS and have arrest authority by virtue of that. It would be very helpful if you would put out a BOLO for this motorcycle, as Mr. Drake was asking you to do. If you need to verify my authority, call DHS in Washington.”
Cabrillo’s tone of voice changed immediately. “Give me the information you have, Miss Strobel, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“The California license plate on the motorcycle is 2STZ012. Just a second. Mr. Drake has the description of the motorcycle.”
Drake took the phone back. “It’s a Suzuki Hayabusa, pearl and gray, late model,” he said.
“Is that enough, Detective?” Strobel asked.
“It should be, Miss Strobel. I’ll be in touch.”
As she disconnected, she smiled. “I believe there will be a BOLO out for Capelli and his motorcycle shortly,” she said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Chapter 62
Ryan Walker was feeling very satisfied with himself and his work. In a couple of hours, he would be out of the country and beyond the reach of the FBI and any other agency that might be looking for him. With the two solar CEO’s and the congressman dead, there was no one left who could tie him to the attack on America’s electrical grid. When he was safely home in Paraguay, of course, he would have to reevaluate his working relationship with the Brotherhood. It was becoming more and more risky for him to be involved in their plots, even if this last one was his own idea. Experienced jihadis survived because they stayed off the radar, unlike the younger men who were so eager to sacrifice themselves for their religion.
Dark Trojan (The Adam Drake series Book 3) Page 18