It took another seven seconds for the call to reach its destination. When it did, it was answered in a crackling tone, again in Farsi: “Hello, Redwing. Thrush here. Ready for data burst.”
Adin waited a few seconds so that he wouldn’t step on any words coming the other way. There was always a delay on the satellite. “No burst. Request voice trans.” He waited again. Adin did not have time to prepare a keyed-in message that would allow him to send the information in the form of a high-speed data burst. This was the preferred method of transmission since the time of exposure to interception was always much less.
A few seconds later the response came back: “Voice trans authorized. Ready… Transmit.” They had turned on the audio recording device.
He waited again, and then spoke: “Cover intact. Contact made. Leopard in Paris. Repeat, Leopard in Paris.”
Zeb Thorpe had bought into the cover story that Adin Hirst was employed by the Israeli Security Agency, Israel’s counterpoint to the FBI. The ISA was responsible for Israeli internal security. The FBI swallowed the cover because it had been carefully laid.
The FBI had checked with Tel Aviv in the hours after Adin arrived and requested confirming documentation. This was standard procedure. They were blinded by the fact that everything, right down to Adin’s picture, squared with information on file in Israeli records.
Adin had been sent out by his handlers soon after word leaked that the White House was beginning to panic over two missing NASA scientists. And Adin knew why. They were trying to put the cork back in the bottle, but it was too late, unless Madriani screwed up the works again.
He looked at the small folded piece of paper from his wallet. It was a quick, nearly illegible note in Adin’s hand, a copy of the message left on the kitchen pass-through written down by Sarah on the phone as she spoke with her father.
Adin talked slowly and clearly into the tiny mic below his chin. “Current location, Hotel Claude Bernard. Repeat, Hotel Claude Bernard. This is urgent. Employ immediate dispatch. Use all available methods. Message ended.” Adin pushed a button on the phone and terminated the call.
Newspaper accounts that were now nearly a year old had mentioned Madriani by name in connection with the failed attack on the U.S. Naval Base at Coronado in California. Rumors persisted that the Coronado attack involved a radioactive device. The government denied it. The feds had sought to discredit the rumor by publishing it in thousands of conspiracy-riddled comments on nut sites across the Internet. American intelligence had learned that the fastest way to hide the truth was to soak it in paranoia and hang it out on the web for the world to see.
But when Madriani’s name popped up again, this time in connection with the failed Washington bombing, even the legitimate press began asking questions. They wanted to know if the two attacks were linked. If not, how did the FBI explain Madriani’s presence in both cases? What was the connection? The government’s response was to put the lawyer and everyone around him who might know the answer under the FBI’s protective wing. In that way anyone with questions couldn’t get to them. Only the bombers knew the answer.
When Adin found out that Thorpe had allowed Madriani and his friends to leave Washington, he knew something was up. He put his ear to the ground, trying to find out where they had gone and why. They had not gone home to California. One of their other operatives working with Adin’s people had checked. The law office was closed and the house was empty.
Adin couldn’t get near Thorpe, and even if he could, it wouldn’t have done him any good. The man was tight-lipped. So were his chief lieutenants. When you want information, you go to the bottom. In this case one of Britain’s female assistants.
Over drinks in a bar she decided to charm Adin with her inside knowledge. She let it drop that Thorpe was in a cold sweat. The White House was flogging him hourly over two missing American scientists. They were desperate for the FBI to find them, though the woman didn’t know precisely why.
What she did know was that there was a middleman, someone on the FBI’s most wanted list, named Liquida, who was somehow connected to the earlier two events, the attack in Coronado and the bombing in Washington. It was Liquida who had tried to kill Sarah Madriani in Ohio and who was believed to have some connection to the two scientists.
Liquida was the missing link.
She told Adin that Thorpe was frantic because he had used Madriani as bait in an effort to lure Liquida into the open. He was hoping that Liquida would lead the FBI to the two missing men.
Without appearing too interested, he asked her if she knew where Madriani was. She told him that no one knew except her boss and Thorpe, and possibly Madriani’s daughter.
Adin knew he had to act and act quickly. The next morning he went to see Jim Ellison, head of the bureau’s International Ops training program, with the story that got him into Sarah’s condo.
The fact that he liked her made no difference, not to the people Adin worked for. Once he realized she was the key to finding her father, Sarah Madriani became a player. Whether she knew it or not, she was now fair game.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
How’d it go?” asked Bruno.
“I’m not sure,” said Liquida. He was standing on a small footstool, peering through a tiny pinhole high on the wall as he looked down into Fareed’s room. It was one of several peepholes they had drilled, all of them up high so that Raji wouldn’t find them.
“What did you tell him?” Bruno was huddled up close behind Liquida’s legs as the Mexican stood on the stool.
“He thinks we are getting him an Internet connection.”
“Are we?”
“Not yet,” said Liquida. “Not yet.” He watched for several seconds as Raji performed the ceremony of the glasses and the coat. “That’s strange.”
“What?”
“Would you say it was cold in that room?”
“No. If anything, it’s stuffy with all the windows closed,” said Bruno.
“So why is he putting on his jacket?”
“You know, we noticed that the other day,” said Bruno.
“What is this?” As Liquida watched he could tell, even from behind, that he was being treated to a display of some sleight of hand. “You say you searched the room?”
“Thoroughly,” said Bruno.
“What about his jacket?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you check it?”
“Of course. All the pockets, everything. We turned them inside out. There was nothing.”
“Are you certain?” said Liquida.
“Absolutely.”
Liquida watched for a few more seconds, then leaned back away from the hole. “Listen, I want you to go outside his door. Talk to your man in the hallway and speak to him in English so that Fareed can understand. Make sure you can be heard inside the room. Tell your man they are bringing up some food for Fareed.”
“What, at this time of night?” Bruno looked at his watch. “It’s three thirty in the morning.”
“Don’t worry about it. If your man says anything, tell him it’s coffee and some desserts. It’s necessary because we’re going to be working for a while. Also tell him that we are going to have to take Fareed to another room so he can connect his computer to the Internet. Then knock on the door, but don’t open it and tell Fareed we’re going have to move him to another room. You got it?”
“Yes.”
“By then I will join you.” Whatever Fareed was typing, he must have finished. By the time Liquida got his eye back to the hole Raji was sitting there reading whatever it was he had on the screen, his right hand dallying under the papers that lay along the side of the computer. If Liquida thought for a moment that Fareed had a gun, that’s where he would start looking, under those papers.
Bruno’s booming voice just outside the door made Raji jump as if someone put a few thousand volts through his body. The Chechen would never make it as an actor. He was speaking loud enough for Fareed’s dead ancestors to hear h
im.
The second he heard the shouting outside his door, Raji hit the save command and plucked the flash drive from the computer. There was no time for niceties like ejecting it. He fumbled and nearly dropped it, then slipped the small drive back into the open seam under the lapel of his coat.
Liquida smiled, then stepped back away from the wall. He shook his head. Stupid man! Will they never learn? By the time he got to the door, Bruno was coming back the other way.
“Well?”
“Let’s go get him,” said Liquida.
They marched down the hall. Bruno nodded to his guy and he unlocked the door. Liquida was first in. He looked at Raji. “My friend, I’m sorry but we’re going to have to move you to another room to get the Internet connection.”
“That’s fine.” Raji turned to get his laptop.
“No, you can leave it for now. We’ll get it in a few minutes,” said Liquida. “First we’re gonna get some food and some coffee, so you’re awake. I wouldn’t want you to make any mistakes.”
Raji started for the door. As he passed in front of Liquida, the Mexican reached out and took him by the arm. “Here, you won’t be needing your coat. It’s very warm in the other room. In fact, we’re going to have to turn the heat down.”
Fareed stopped and looked at him.
“I insist. I want you to be comfortable,” said Liquida.
“Sure.” Raji took a step toward the closet and started to take off his jacket.
“Boy, those are big glasses,” said Liquida.
“Not really,” said Raji.
“You must be blind.”
“No. It’s just that I have a problem with glare from the screen. They’re computer glasses. I wear them all the time at work.”
“Here, I’ll take that.” Before Raji could get his fingers near the lapel, Liquida grabbed the coat from his hand, put it on a hanger, and hung it neatly in the armoire. “Let’s go.”
They started down the hall with Bruno in front, Fareed behind him, with Liquida and the guard taking up the rear. Before they went twenty feet, Liquida said: “I am going to let you go on ahead. I will catch up with you in a minute.” He watched until Bruno had Raji inside one of the rooms down the hall; then Liquida turned and went back to Raji’s room.
He lifted the sport coat from the hanger in the armoire and started feeling around. It took him less than twenty seconds to find the small hard lump under the lapel and to see the tear in the seam. As soon as he had the flash drive in his hand, he grabbed the computer and took them both down the hall to another room. He knocked on the door.
A few seconds later, it opened. Inside Liquida could see a blue haze hovering just beneath the ceiling.
“What can I do for you?” Leffort slurred the words as Liquida got a blast of secondhand cannabis.
“Time for you to go to work.” Liquida pushed his way into the room.
“Please. By all means, come in.” Leffort stumbled backward toward the bed and started to giggle. “Can I offer you anything? Glass of wine, truffle, croissant, a Quaalude?”
The room was a shambles. Dirty dishes and empty food containers covered the desk and part of the floor. The top of the bureau had become Leffort’s laundry chute, dirty underwear and socks everywhere. The smell of sweat was covered by the sweet perfume of the weed. Two of the bureau drawers were pulled open and filled with garbage. With the sleeping curtains drawn, the clutter, and the smell, the place felt like an opium den.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” Leffort took one more step back and fell onto the bed.
“This is a pigsty,” said Liquida.
Bruno had taken the entire floor for a week and told the front desk not to bother sending up the maids. Food was brought in by Bruno’s people from one of the local restaurants. Another day of this and Leffort would be sleeping with rats.
The story Liquida had told Raji was only half a lie. If Liquida had his way and everything worked out, they would be out of Paris and on their way south toward Marseilles before the sun came up.
Leffort took another drag on the joint as he maneuvered his head onto the pillow and lifted his white gym-socked feet up onto the bed.
Liquida swept the dirty dishes and garbage off the surface of the small table with one arm and started setting up the computer. “Get over here now.”
“Have you seen this one?” Leffort’s attention was back on the television set, a porn movie running on one of the pay-per-view channels. “ Lilly’s Arch Day Triumph, ” said Leffort.
As soon as he got the computer up and running, Liquida crossed the room. Leffort was in middrag on the joint when Liquida slapped it from his lips and stamped it out on the floor.
“That’s good shit. What did you go and do that for?”
“I want you to take a look at this.” He held the small flash drive, half the size of a pack of chewing gum, up in front of Leffort’s eyes so he could see it. Larry tried to focus.
“What is it? Lemme see.” He took the drive between his fingers, examined it for a second, then put one end of it to his lips and tried to suck with his lungs. “No taste at all. What is it?” said Leffort.
“Son of a bitch.” Liquida ripped the flash drive from his mouth.
“Suck on that, you’re gonna need to break out the Shop-Vac.”
“You stupid shit.” Liquida grabbed him by the collar and started to pull him up off the bed. After Liquida dragged him to his feet, together they stumbled into the bathroom. He maneuvered Leffort into place, bumped him with his hip, and let go. Leffort tumbled into the tub. He hadn’t hit the porcelain surface when Liquida pulled the curtain closed and turned on the shower full force with cold water.
“Aw shit! Nooooo! God damn! Turn it off! You’re gonna fuckin’ drown me.”
“Try the backstroke,” said Liquida. “You keep this up, you and I are gonna go in the other room and play with a pillow. Did I tell you the dream I had?”
Ten minutes later Liquida had him stripped, dried, and covered with a towel, everything except the upper chest and the nipple rings Leffort had installed in L.A. Liquida pushed him out into the room toward the table and the computer.
“What do you want?” Leffort’s tone was no longer pleasant.
“I want you to get your ass in that chair and look at this.” Liquida handed him the flash drive once more. “Tell me if it’s what we’re looking for. The targeting software.”
“Lemme see.” Leffort held it up to the light. “What does that say?” He showed it to Liquida.
“It says Kingston.”
“Yeah, but there’s numbers after it. What do the numbers say?”
“Looks like two hundred and fifty…”
“Two hundred and fifty-six gigs,” said Leffort.
“So what is that?” said Liquida.
“That, my friend, is the largest flash drive on the commercial market. Must have set him back at least a thousand bucks. There’s probably something bigger that the government has, but for you and me, that’s as big as they get, at least for now anyway.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means it’s big enough to hold what we’re looking for.”
“Yes, but is it there?”
“How do I know? Listen, I need a smoke.”
Liquida grabbed him by the few hairs on his chest, pinched one of the nipple rings with the other hand, and started to twist.
“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”
“Yes, I know. It was good of you to provide them,” said Liquida. “Most people I do this to, I have to bring my own pliers. Listen to me!” He kept twisting.
“Ow! Oh, shit!”
“Get your ass over to that computer and tell me what’s on that thing or I’m going to take you out on the balcony and teach you how to fly without wings. Do you understand?”
“Yesss! I understand.”
“Good.” Liquida let go.
“Oh God!”
The way Leffort said it, Liquida had to wonder if the sick fuck might hav
e actually enjoyed it. Maybe when Leffort was finished with the job, Bruno would give him to Liquida as a project so he could flame up the rings in his tits with a torch.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Is this your room?”
“Yes.” Bruno gave him a cold stare as they sat in the hotel room waiting for the food to arrive. The goon, the one Bruno used to guard the hallway, stood near the door.
Raji looked around appraisingly at the spacious suite, a pair of antique couches, Bruno on one, Raji on the other, facing each other across a low coffee table between. It was a large sitting room between what looked like two separate bedrooms.
“If you have a Wi-Fi signal here, why don’t I just get my computer and I can get started?”
“Just sit tight,” said Bruno.
“Fine.” Raji was more than a little nervous. The fact that they took his jacket from him made him wonder if they had seen the flash drive. If forced to, he could deliver a reasonable facsimile of the targeting software downloaded from an online site where he had parked it the night before he and Leffort flew out of L.A. It was an insurance policy. The online version wouldn’t work, but there was no way for anyone to know that until they tested it. It was a precaution Raji had taken just in case. In fact, he had prepared not one, but two levels of deception in the event that they backed him against a wall and threatened his life. They were both designed to buy time.
As the minutes passed, Raji began to relax. If the man who called himself Joaquin had found the flash drive, he would have been in here by now confronting Fareed with it. He took off his glasses and allowed them to dangle from the woven cord around his neck.
A few minutes later there was a rap on the door. Bruno looked at the guard and said something to him in a language Fareed didn’t understand.
Raji assumed it was room service delivering the food.
The guard checked the peephole, then turned and said something to Bruno.
“Just a moment.” Bruno looked at Fareed. He struggled to lift his prodigious weight from the sinkhole of the couch, leaning with both hands on the coffee table as he did so. He made his way to the door.
Trader of secrets pm-12 Page 21