Solar Weapon

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Solar Weapon Page 7

by David Capps


  “We’re back to rule number one—follow the money.”

  Honi contacted her team at the NSA.

  “Brett, what have you got for me?”

  “Hey. I’ve been coordinating with Tracy. Part of the money went through a dozen banks and then to an account used by the Yakuza, the Japanese mob. They, in turn, contracted with the Russian Mob to intercept you guys. Phone plot shows they’re definitely connected. Nasty bunch of people, if you ask me. So glad you’re okay.”

  “There was a second hit team behind us, anything on them?” Honi asked.

  “Not much, but from the video surveillance they’re probably Yakuza—fits their MO.”

  “So where did the bulk of the money go?”

  “Most of the money went to two of the wealthiest families in Japan. From there it was turned into cash.”

  “Two billion into cash?”

  “Yep. That’s two pallets of hundred dollar bills. Not the first time either, monthly thing from the looks of the records.”

  “They wanted the money in US hundred dollar bills? In Japan? What are they doing with that much cash?”

  “No clue, but that’s where it went.”

  “Thanks, Brett.” She hung up.

  Jake looked at the expression on her face. “What happened?”

  “Two wealthy Japanese families turned the money into US hundred dollar bills.”

  “Two billion? Then where?”

  “We don’t know. Once it leaves a bank account, it falls off our system. There’s no way to trace it.”

  “That may not be entirely true. Each bill has a unique serial number. We need to talk with Ken Bartholomew.” When Jake called, Ken suggested they meet at the Treasury Department.

  * * *

  “This is the machine I wanted you to see,” Ken said. “Each piece of currency, except the one dollar bill, has a magnetic strip embedded in the rag linen. If you hold it up to the light you can see the shadow of the strip. It says USA and the denomination. What most people don’t realize is that each denomination has a specific magnetic signature, which is very difficult to duplicate. The magnetic signature is the one critical test that allows us to separate real currency from counterfeit bills. This machine reads the magnetic signature.”

  “Okay,” Jake said. “The two billion that just got turned into US hundred dollar bills in Japan. What happens with that?”

  “Eventually it works its way back to us, through foreign banks, and then to this machine. In the states, we can track cash by the serial number. It leaves one account and eventually enters another account. We don’t know exactly what happens to it in between, but when it re-enters the banking system, we can find it and re-verify that it’s real.”

  “What about outside of the United States?” Honi asked.

  “That’s where we have our greatest problem. Most counterfeit currency enters the market through foreign banks, which don’t have the equipment to verify that what they have is real currency. We know the currency is real when it leaves the country or a major bank in the world. We can track it by serial number. The problem is that when it returns, and goes through this machine, more and more of the currency is counterfeit.”

  “Why is that happening?” Honi asked.

  “Counterfeiters can make a hundred dollar bill for about a buck a piece, in large quantities. The trick is exchanging it for real currency, or depositing it in a bank, without getting caught. Once they have real currency, they’re home free. Matching serial numbers helps counterfeiters do that. When the currency gets back to this machine, we often get three or four bills with the same real serial number on them, but the magnetic strip fails the test.”

  “So how much currency is actually counterfeit?” Honi asked.

  “Here in the states? One in ten thousand bills is counterfeit.”

  “And overseas?”

  “We’re seeing a dramatic swell in the volume of counterfeit bills. We used to detect two to four percent coming in from foreign banks, now it’s nearing forty percent.”

  “Forty percent?” Honi exclaimed. “What the hell is going on?”

  “We suspect it is a coordinated attack on our currency, but we can’t figure out why criminal cartels, like the Yakuza and the Russian Bratva, who normally fight with each other for control, would now be cooperating. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Have you contacted other countries to see if they are experiencing the same thing?” Jake asked.

  “No.”

  “You should. I think you’ll find this is happening to every major country around the world.”

  “You suspect something. What is it?”

  Jake glanced at the watch on his wrist. “My guess is that we are all in this together, and time is running out.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Peter Steinmetz called his son, Robert, on his secure cell phone. “Start buying the gold bars now. Use the funds in the trust account as we discussed. Make sure every bar is drilled and verified before you ship them to the family vault in Chicago. Gradually, over the next ten days, sell all of the family-owned stocks and turn the money into more gold. Buy one-ounce coins, ten and 100-ounce bars if you have to, but see that everything is converted in the next ten days.”

  This was the culmination of decades of planning and preparation. Timing was critical. The world is over-populated with fools and morons, and soon, in 28 precious days, they would either find their proper place at the bottom of the power structure, or they would pay the price their ignorance had purchased and die, with no grave in sight.

  He faced the framed quotation on his wall, from Paradise Lost by John Milton.

  Here at least we shall be free; the Almighty hath not built

  Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

  Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

  To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:

  Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.

  * * *

  “You suggested I check with other countries about counterfeit currency,” Ken said. “You were right. Massive amounts of counterfeit currency are showing up all over the world. The other strange thing is that 400-ounce gold bars are selling out across the globe. It’s driving the price of gold up rapidly, and the gold is being purchased with cash. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Do you think those two things are connected?” Jake asked.

  “I believe they are. What puzzles me is, this can’t be happening on this scale without the involvement of the major international banks. The exchanges that sell the gold bars have the machines to verify the cash is real. They would spot a fake bill immediately. My take on it is that huge amounts of counterfeit cash are being quietly swapped out by large international banks for real currency, which is then used to buy the gold bars. The transactions are virtually untraceable.”

  “Why are they using their money to buy gold?”

  “Gold has intrinsic value. Its worth is based primarily on its rarity. Paper money doesn’t have any real value in and of itself.”

  “So where is the gold going?”

  “No idea,” Ken said.

  “But wouldn’t the international banks have to reveal the amount of bad currency they have, eventually?”

  “Yes, they would. But eventually could run for years, or decades even, especially the way the oversight system works. By then, who knows?”

  Jake looked at the countdown watch on his wrist. In 28 days, bad currency may be the least of our problems.

  * * *

  Honi and Jake entered the NSA building and walked over to the elevator. “I got a call from Major Stafford early this morning. He said the army had been tracking terrorists, based on GPS chips in the newer cell phones. He suggested we include phones used within three minutes at the same location, as if it were the same person or connection in our phone plot.”

  “That’s actually a brilliant insight,” Jake said. “I’m impressed. I like working with him.”

  “I
do, too, which is why I thought we should join him today.”

  “Yeah. I’m good with that.”

  The elevator door opened and they hurried over to area 4.

  “Brett, making any progress on my special project?”

  “Oh, hey. Major Bob Stafford’s GPS connection was a good idea. I’ve had to restructure several of our search functions, and I modified the display code to present the GPS connections in a 3D format. It’s slow going, but this is where we are at the moment. I’m sending it over to the big screen on the wall, otherwise it’s too small to read.”

  As they approached the large screen, the phone connection plots were in red, and in some places, in orange. The plots appeared in 14 layers, viewed from a side angle, where they could see the intricate pattern of each layer.

  “The vertical lines are the GPS connections. I broke them down into four groups, which are displayed in yellow, blue, green and purple,” Brett said. “We’re only 44 hours back in the timestamps, but a pattern is emerging. Yellow is for military-to-military connections. Blue is for military-to-political connections, works the other way around too, political-to-military, same color. Green is for military-to-corporate connections. Purple is for military-to-academic connections.”

  “What are all the white lines?” Honi asked. “They seem to be cross-connected to everything.”

  “I need to pick more colors,” Brett replied. “When I identify what type of organization is involved, I color-code the GPS connections. Right now, there’s still a lot I don’t know.”

  “This looks like it’s going to take a long time,” Jake said.

  “Oh it is,” Brett replied. “I’m already getting complaints about the processor time this project is chewing up.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Honi said. “The orange is still for phones in other countries?”

  “Always,” Brett replied. “And the bright red over here is for known terrorist organizational contacts.”

  “If I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Jake said. “We could be looking at a global criminal network deeply embedded into, and corrupting, every power structure on the planet. We’re going to need a lot more help.”

  Honi pulled her phone out and dialed. “Deputy Director Ellington, it’s Honi. I’ve got Brett, B6, area 4, working on a special project. It needs to be priority one. He’s going to need more processing resources and twenty more technicians.” She looked at Jake as she waited. “Yes, sir, Agent Hunter is onto something.” She looked back at the large screen as more and more lines appeared. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She clicked off and put her phone away. “Stafford gave us a good lead. Speaking of which, we need to go.”

  * * *

  Major Stafford had asked Jake and Honi to join him at Fort Belvoir for the rest of the day, indicating it was critical to their investigation.

  “So what does Stafford need us for?” Jake asked as he drove to the army base.

  “He didn’t say, exactly, but he thinks it ties into the criminal organization we’re after. Army MPs raided the machining companies early this morning, but found nothing. It sounds like there’s a mole in his office because everything incriminating was removed from the machine shops last night.”

  Honi stared out the side window of the car, organizing her thoughts. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Well, the feeling is mutual. You’re totally unique in my experience of women.”

  “So you’re well experienced with women?” she asked, a sly grin on her face.

  He blushed. “Not exactly what I meant.”

  She smiled at his embarrassment. “I’ve met some really tough people in this business. They think not caring makes them strong, but it just seems more rigid to me. You’re not like that. You’re more flexible, more caring. I like that about you.”

  Jake paused for a moment, watching the road in front of them.

  “I know that some people get into law enforcement because it gives them power over other people, and that feeling of power makes them feel important.” He glanced to each side and looked in the rear view mirror. “Frankly, I don’t see a lot of difference between the bureaucrats and agents I know, and the members of the criminal operation we’re investigating. To me, it’s just a matter of degrees and sides. They’re essentially the same kind of people, just with slightly different motivations and ethics.”

  “You include me in that list?”

  He looked at her. “No. Why would you ask?”

  “I can read most people fairly well. You, not so much. You’re still a mystery to me. I actually find that challenging…and intriguing.”

  “So I’m challenging?”

  “In an intriguing sort of way.”

  “I don’t see the world in an us-versus-them framework. We’re all just people. Yeah, there are some bad people out there and I do want to see them in prison. But there are also a lot of others out there. People who just don’t think things through. I try to take people based on their intentions as well as their actions−like two sides of the same coin. Good people sometimes do bad things, but without an evil intent. I think those people need a break. They need a second chance. When bad people act on their evil intentions, the full weight of the law needs to come down on them like a truck load of bricks.”

  “See? That’s the intriguing part. I think you care about me, but not in a romantic kind of way. As I said in the hospital, you respect me and treat me as an equal. That’s important to me. You don’t go all macho and try to protect me. I respect that a lot.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  She looked at him, obviously intrigued.

  “I still struggle with that. I’m working with Dr. Rosen, the department shrink. I’ve lost two partners in the line of duty.”

  “That’s hard, I know.”

  “My last partner, Eric Hayden, was shot in the neck during a raid on an Albanian cartel three weeks ago. He bled out before anyone could get to him.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “My concern isn’t because you’re a woman, it’s about losing another partner. I’d feel the same way about a guy partner.”

  She studied him for a minute. “I can accept that. It still works for me. Does it help that I’m not actually a partner for you?”

  “Yeah. That does help. In a way, I don’t want this to end. I enjoy working with you.”

  “I’m getting to enjoy it, too.”

  * * *

  Jake and Honi stopped at the front gate to Fort Belvoir and presented their IDs.

  “Agents Hunter and Badger, Major Stafford is waiting at the airfield. Here’s a map he left for you. Follow the main road here for the next mile. Your first turn will be on the right as you reach the water tower.”

  “Thank you, corporal,” Jake said.

  Twenty minutes later they arrived at a giant hanger with a C-130 cargo plane warming up its engines on the tarmac nearby. Jake hardly recognized Major Stafford standing there. The mustache and beard were gone; he was clean-shaven and in uniform. His hat covered his bald head.

  “Thank you for doing this,” Stafford yelled over the sound of the engines. “I hitched a ride for us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fort Hood, Killeen, Texas. This way we bypass the gate security.”

  “Why are we going there?”

  “There’s more going on in your investigation than gun-running. Something much more serious, and I’m convinced the same people are involved.”

  “And the more serious aspect?”

  “It’s better if I show you.” He handed them ear protection and waved them up the ramp at the back of the plane. The central section of the cargo bay was filled with huge crates. Jake and Honi followed Major Stafford down the narrow edge of the plane and settled into fold-down seats attached to the side wall. Four long hours later they arrived in Texas.

  The back ramp lowered. Jake and Honi followed Major Stafford out of the plane. Stafford stopped as soon as he ste
pped off the ramp. Jake and Honi nearly ran into him. An Army Captain blocked the way. With him were six Army Military Police, helmets on and M-16 rifles pointed at them. What the hell? Jake thought. The three of them stood still as the noise of the engines wound down.

  “Captain, what are you doing?” Stafford said in a loud, firm voice.

  “Following orders, sir. General Teague, the Base Commander, has declared you, and anyone with you, persona non grata. You are not allowed on this base, sir.”

  “Do you know who I am, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. You are Army Major Bob Stafford, sir, persona non grata.”

  Honi reached for her ID.

  “Don’t do that, ma’am,” the Captain shouted as he drew his sidearm and aimed at her.

  “It’s just my ID, Captain.”

  “Put it away, ma’am. I don’t care what your ID says. You are persona non grata.”

  This sure took a nasty turn in a hurry, Jake thought. “So what now, Captain. Do you arrest us, or just shoot us?” Time to push back a little.

  “That’s up to you, sir. You can get back on that plane and leave, which is my personal recommendation. If you attempt to enter this base, my orders are to shoot you.”

  “So do we just stand here and put our hands up?”

  “Not necessary, sir.”

  Jake took a step forward. The army Captain aimed his sidearm at Jake.

  “Agent Hunter,” Stafford said firmly. “You’re dealing with soldiers trained to kill other people. They are not like civilians. Don’t take another step forward or he will shoot you.”

  “That’s good advice,” the Captain said. “I strongly suggest you take it. When the cargo is unloaded, get back on the plane and leave.”

  “Captain, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?” Stafford said.

  “None, sir, I’m following a direct order from my commanding officer, General Teague.”

  Stafford slowly looked over at Jake and Honi. “Don’t move. We’re leaving as soon as the cargo is unloaded.”

  Jake and Honi nodded in agreement. Half an hour later the C-130 was clear of crates and refueled. Stafford, Jake and Honi slowly climbed the ramp, which closed behind them.

 

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