The Enemy Inside

by William Christie

  He’d unplugged the computer to remove its ground with the earth. Fumbling with a small screwdriver, Nasser removed a few screws so he could open the back plate a crack. He was sweating and the screws were small. He lost one and it bounced across the carpet.

  Nasser knew all the screws would have to be back on the computer when he was done. He crawled under his desk, looking for it on the carpet. People were starting to come into the office. He couldn’t see under there, so he felt around with his hands, growing more frantic. His finger hit the screw and pushed it away. He stretched out his arm to the limit, almost under the next cubicle. He felt the screw with his fingertips, and teased it back toward him. A little more. He had it.

  Just then his neighbor Udi came into that next cubicle and sat down.

  Nasser pulled himself back up into a crouch, and opened the back plate on his computer. He poked the igniter inside and zapped everything he could see.

  “Hey, Nasser?”

  “Hi, Udi,” Nasser said quickly, trying to keep his voice normal.

  “What’s that strange sound?”

  “I don’t know,” Nasser replied. “I heard it, too.”

  “Weird.”

  Nasser pushed the plate back flush and reattached the screws, trying not to scrape the metal with the screwdriver.

  He plugged everything back in, and backed his chair away to the length of his arm. He turned his head away and pushed the on button.

  There was a loud pop, then a couple of smaller ones. The monitor blinked, then went dark. There was a distinct smell of electrical equipment.

  Udi’s head appeared over the top of the cubicle. “What just happened?”

  Nasser stood up fast, tapping his back pocket to make sure the igniter was all the way in there. “My computer blew up.”

  “Was that the sound I heard before?”

  “I don’t think so, I just turned it on.”

  “Better tell Barry.”

  “I’m doing that right now.”

  Nasser found his supervisor out in the hall. “Barry, I’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s up, Nasser?”

  “I just turned my computer on, and it blew on me.”

  “It blew?”

  “There was like this big pop, and it went dead.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Well, I don’t have computers blow up on me every day.”

  “Let me take a look at it.”

  Barry, of course, was an expert in computers, too. They walked over to Nasser’s cubicle, and Barry waved his hand in front of his face. “Jeez, I can smell it. What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Barry. I turned it on, and it blew.”

  “I heard it, too,” Udi chimed in from behind his cubicle.

  “Okay, take it easy.” Barry tried turning it on, but the computer was quite dead. “What a pain in the ass. How much work was on it?”

  “I send everything off to the case agents before I leave for the day, Barry. You know that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I wish everyone else did that. Okay, I’ll get on the phone and have someone take a look at it.” He surveyed the office. “Until they get you a new one, work from Jim’s desk. He’s on maternity leave. Okay?”

  “Okay, Barry.”

  “You just turned it on, right?”

  “I just turned it on, Barry. And it blew.”

  “Okay, don’t worry about it.”

  Nasser felt drained, his arms like rubber bands. But the relief was enormous. He began moving his stuff over to Jim’s cubicle. He’d already made up his mind. He’d get them what they wanted, then get out. Quitting wouldn’t do any good—they’d just make him join some other government agency.

  But he’d get himself fired. If he got fired from the FBI, he wouldn’t be able to work anywhere that required a security clearance. They couldn’t do anything to him then. He never wanted to see anything secret ever again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When they were in the United States, Storey and Troy wore pagers so they could be called when they were off duty. Pagers were more reliable than American cell phone networks.

  Storey was watching Saturday night college football with Sergeant Major (retired) Dave Tallchief, an old buddy from Delta Force. Delta always had a significant presence of hardcore Native American warriors.

  The Sergeant Major was doing contract work at the Pentagon, making more than three times his last Army salary. Iraq’s demands on an overstretched military, and Republican philosophy in general, had caused the government to shovel money at private military contractors to pick up the slack. And in a textbook lesson in the law of unintended consequences, not to mention basic economic theory, the contractors used all that taxpayer money to bid against the U.S. military for the services of its best soldiers. The most senior and by definition most experienced enlisted men in Special Operations found they could make six figures doing the exact same job with less military bullshit. So they were either retiring right at the twenty- year mark or just not reenlisting and leaving the services in droves. A massive brain drain that Special Operations could ill afford with two wars going on.

  The game was on the big screen, Storey had his feet up on the La-Z-Boy, and his stomach was full of steak and potatoes.

  “You sure you don’t want a beer?” Tallchief asked.

  “No thanks,” Storey replied.

  “You need to come over here sometime when you’re not on alert.”

  “Truth is,” Storey admitted, “I gave up drinking after divorce number two.”

  “Did you?” said Tallchief. It wasn’t just that struggles with the bottle were a dime a dozen in the military. Senior staff NCOs, who had damn near seen it all, tended to be a lot more understated than civilians would ever imagine.

  “Didn’t need any more problems,” said Storey.

  “You gotta do what works for you,” said Tallchief. “Whatever happened to Jocelyn, anyway? Pretty little gal—mean as a wolverine.”

  “Moved to San Diego and married a dentist.”

  “Did she?”

  “Worked out for everyone,” said Storey. “She don’t hate me anymore, and I’m not as poor as I used to be.”

  “Remember her from Bragg, Di?” Tallchief asked his wife.

  “I remember,” said Diane Tallchief. She and her husband were just touching forty. Delta operators were such expert soldiers that they tended to make rank very quickly. “Everyone told her what the life was going to be like. And she was fine, the deployments weren’t going to be any problem. Being independent and solving problems yourself wasn’t going to be any problem. Then after about a month she was sick of it. Sorry for dragging it up, Ed.”

  “No problem, Di,” said Storey. “Like I told you, everything worked out.”

  “For everyone but the dentist,” said Tallchief.

  He and Storey chuckled.

  “Don’t laugh too soon,” said Diane Tallchief. “I’m thinking about what it would be like with a house full of dentists instead of a house full of soldiers.”

  “Boring, honey,” said Tallchief. “Very boring. Just like all those civilians we hang around with now.”

  “Do dentists sit around talking about the old days when they turn into old farts?” Diane asked. “Ed?”

  “Probably,” said Storey. “And they talk about fillings and braces.”

  “You’re so sweet, Ed, trying to make me feel better about it.”

  “And they don’t talk about it while the game is on,” Tallchief said pointedly.

  “Put on the closed captioning,” said Diane. “Except you can’t read that fast.”

  “I hate movies with subtitles, too,” said Tallchief.

  Lee Troy was in a bar in Old Town Alexandria, checking out the talent. And the talent was there, except the women were all running in posses. It was no trouble meeting them away from the posse, but then you always got dragged back to the table. He’d just as soon avoid that, if at all possible.

&nbs
p; Wait up a minute. Killer bod up at the bar. He began circling her, doing the recon. Man, those jeans were so tight—good tight, not bad tight—that it looked like it had taken a working party to get her into them. Outstanding profile in that tight top. And the face? Nice—but that body was 4.0, as they said in the Navy. She looked about thirty-five. That was okay, he liked older women. And no posse in sight.

  She got her drink and was waiting for her change. Troy made his move and came up behind her.

  She left a tip, picked up her drink, and turned away from the bar.

  Troy bumped into her. “Excuse me.”

  She’d spilled part of her drink on her arm. “So there’s no one in the world other than you, is that it?”

  Troy was contrite. “I’m really sorry. I’m just a little preoccupied tonight. I’ll get you another drink.”

  The apology took her edge off, and made her take a closer look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” said Troy. “I’m just shipping out tomorrow. Are you sure I can’t get you a replacement drink?”

  “Shipping out?”

  “To Iraq.”

  “Really?”

  Troy nodded solemnly.

  “Why don’t you come over and sit down with me?”

  “Thanks,” said Troy. “I could use someone to talk to.”

  Storey’s pager went off.

  “That’s a sound I don’t miss,” said Tallchief.

  “Me either,” said his wife.

  “Excuse me,” said Storey. He went outside to call the office.

  “Ed looks as tired as you did on your last hitch,” said Diane.

  “Did I look that tired?” said Tallchief.

  His wife nodded.

  Storey came back in. “Got to go, folks.” He hugged Diane. “Thank you for supper, darlin’.”

  “Be careful, Ed,” she said.

  He and Tallchief shook hands. “The next meal’s on me when I get back,” said Storey.

  “Make sure you bring Beth along,” said Diane.

  “Diane can’t wait to look her over,” said Tallchief.

  “Would you please shut up,” she said.

  “I promise I will if she’s in town,” said Storey.

  “I was going to say it served you soldiers right to meet someone with a job like yours,” said Diane Tallchief. “But no one really deserves that.”

  They were making out in the elevator, then did the locked-together tipsy walk down the hall to her apartment. Getting the door open was a team effort.

  Troy looked around. “You have great taste, Jane.” Actually, he wouldn’t know great taste in decorating if it bit him in the ass, but women always liked to hear that.

  “Thanks, Lee. How about a drink?”

  “That would be great.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Whatever’s handy. Don’t go to any trouble.”

  “Be right back.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Troy took a little turn around the living room, looking for any kind of weird lifestyle indicators he might have to deal with later. Nope, everything seemed normal.

  “Here you go.” Jane was standing in the kitchen doorway, naked, holding two drinks. She turned and walked into the bedroom.

  Troy loved older women. He shucked off his clothes on the way to the bedroom, then leaped onto the bed, making them both laugh.

  He was kneeling upright on the bed, and she knee-walked over and put her arms around his neck.

  Troy always loved that first full body-to-body contact.

  They kissed, and she said, “I want to show you something.”

  “Okay.” What else was he going to say?

  She opened the drawer to the night table, and Troy was really hoping nothing scary was going to come out.

  It was a roll of LifeSavers. She popped one into her mouth. And then she popped him into her mouth.

  “Whoa,” Troy exclaimed. Wintergreen. The LifeSaver was being moved around by her tongue, very slowly. “Holy shit.”

  There was a noise out in the living room. Concerned enough to stop everything, Troy gently held her head and started to move off the bed.

  She grabbed his arm. “My husband.”

  “Your husband?” There hadn’t been any wedding ring, and a husband hadn’t come up in conversation. Troy was pretty sure he would have remembered.

  She put on a robe and opened the window. “Wait out on the balcony.”

  Well, at least she was thinking fast. And better the balcony than being discovered in the bedroom.

  When Storey pulled into the lot the whole office park was dark except for their building with the one lit-up floor. The operations offices.

  Lieutenant Commander Moneymaker was waiting for him. “Where’s Troy?”

  If Storey felt any concern he didn’t show it. “He didn’t answer his page, sir?”

  “No.”

  Officers tended to lock on to the one thing that was bothering them and forget the matter at hand. “No need to wait, sir. I’ll brief him.”

  “All right.”

  “What’s going on, sir?”

  “Everyone’s going ballistic over your intel. The CIA put their first team on the Pakistani you grabbed in Rio. He’s talking about twenty Chechens heading into Mexico.”

  “Just curious, sir. Any word on what they were doing the week they spent in Rio?”

  “The Pakistani was making them Brazilian passports. Evidently he’d managed to buy real blanks. Had the camera, seals, everything.”

  “What are these Chechens going to do, sir?”

  “Nothing on that yet, but with your intel on Nuevo Laredo they’re sure as shit coming across the border. Combine that with Customs seizing a shipping container in Los Angeles with a weapons load for twenty men.”

  “What kind of weapons, sir?”

  Moneymaker passed him a sheet of paper.

  Storey looked it over. This wasn’t a pistols and homemade explosives operation. No wonder they were going ballistic over at the Pentagon.

  “NSA’s got all their ears focused on Nuevo Laredo,” said Moneymaker. “Nothing so far.”

  “Nice to know they’re on the job, sir. Now.”

  “Yeah, I know Ed. We need to get you down to Nuevo Laredo as soon as possible.”

  “Anything on the cell phone that was used, sir?”

  “The CIA probably has someone inside Telcel, the Mexican provider. Most likely they’ll have the records in a day or two.”

  Storey almost asked if he was going to bump into the CIA in Nuevo Laredo. That had happened before. If only they fought al-Qaeda as hard as they fought each other. Personally, Storey had no problem either way. But he did not want anyone, not even Moneymaker, knowing exactly where he was and what he was doing until he decided to let them know. People just weren’t as careful about operational security when it wasn’t their ass out on the line.

  “What do you need from me?” Moneymaker asked.

  Now that was the kind of question Storey liked to hear from an officer, rather than trying to tell him what to do. “I’ll let you know once I do my research on Nuevo Laredo, sir.” He never went into a city cold if he could help it. It wasn’t just looking at maps and satellite photos. He liked to get a bit of the history and what had been going on recently. It nearly always paid off.

  “I know you like to be thorough, Ed. But we need to move fast, here. Not just because we need to move fast, but there’s a lot of pressure to move fast.”

  “I understand, sir.” And Storey did. It was why disaster always clung to U.S. Special Operations like a bad smell. Everyone did everything by the numbers in training, then when it was real things fell apart because the officers rushed and half-assed everything.

  “Something else I’ve got to tell you,” said Moneymaker. “Lund’s support team is already on their way to Nuevo Laredo.”

  Only someone who knew Storey quite well, and Moneymaker did not, would have realized how angry that m
ade him. “Sir, an assault team always goes in first to check out the ground. And then brings in support. That’s SOP.”

  “I know, Ed. I didn’t hear about it until they’d already been launched.”

  Storey didn’t bother with a lot of whys. It had already happened, so that would be for the after-action report. This was bad. Lund and his team were good, but the smaller the city, the more care that had to be taken. And four men made a much bigger footprint than two. Now he was really going to have to rush. “Do you have anything else for me, sir?”

  “No. I’ll stand by in case you need anything before you launch.”

  Storey knew his preparations would take the rest of the night. “That’s really not necessary, sir.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  As soon as he could get away from Moneymaker, Storey called Troy’s cell. This was the wrong time to be missing a page. He got Troy’s voice mail. “Wherever you are, get your ass down to the office ASAP.”

  Troy was standing naked on the balcony. In the darkness of one corner. There was the window to the bedroom. And there was the sliding glass door to the living room. He looked down over the railing. Seven floors down. Not only were his clothes in the living room, but his wallet, phone, and pager. And it was fucking cold out here.

  So did he go over the rail and abandon ship? Did he wait until the husband stuck his head out the sliding door and then lay him out? Or did he go inside, lay him out, and hope to clear the building before the cops arrived?

  Troy heard Storey’s voice in his head. There were some decisions you needed to make fast. And then there were some decisions you didn’t want to make too fast. Because if he made the wrong move he wasn’t just going to be in trouble. He was going to lose his SEAL quals and end up in the black shoe Navy. Anything but that.

  The cold made up his mind. He leaned over the railing and planned his moves. Then the bedroom window slid open. It was Jane. She stuck her arm out and handed him his phone, wallet, pager, and keys. She mouthed the word “wait” and shut the window.

  Troy took that as a sign. He flipped open his phone and dialed a number.