by J. C. Fields
After a few moments, a man in his late 50s approached the TV. “Goddamn terrorist, got what he deserved.” The man shook his head and walked off.
Abbas took a deep breath. His nostrils flared, and his lips tightened. He closed his eyes briefly, then continued on to the parking area where the rental car was located. Once behind the steering wheel of the car, he pounded his palm against it and stared out the front windshield. His breathing was short and rapid.
After several minutes, his breathing returned to normal. Finally he started the car and pulled out of the rental area parking lot.
Thirty minutes later, he was in his motel room and typing his first message to Ortega.
“Is all C4 gone?” He texted the new password and waited for a return text.
Ten minutes later, he received it and opened the email account again.
“Yes.”
Following the same tedious procedure, he wrote, “When can you get more?”
It was twenty minutes before he received a response.
“Four to six weeks, maybe never. Source is being watched by CID.”
Abbas took a deep breath and replied.
“Not good enough, need more by end of month.”
This time the response took almost an hour.
“Cooper’s supply took over two years to assemble. It will take time.”
Abbas stood and paced the room for five minutes. Ortega would have to be dealt with later for this unforgiveable offense. He walked over to the window, opened the curtains and stared out over the hotel’s parking lot. As an idea started to form, he finally smiled and nodded his head.
***
The Dallas-Fort Worth area was heavily populated with Walmart stores. Abbas spent several hours visiting various stores in the area and buying pre-paid cell phones from each. By the time he was back in his hotel room at midnight, he had over twenty phones. He only bought one phone per store, never more, and he paid cash. The next step was to contact the Imam in Richmond, California. Leaving the hotel room again, Abbas drove three miles to a 7-Eleven that still had a payphone outside the store. After putting the necessary number of quarters into the machine, he dialed the number for the Imam. The call was answered on the third ring. Abbas said, “As-salamu alaykum.”
“Wa-alaykum salaam. How are you, my brother?”
“I am good, Imam. I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I need counsel.”
“Ah. How can I help?”
“The matter of which we spoke earlier. It is time. Can you send three to help?”
There was silence on the other end of the call. “Maybe. When do you need them?”
“A week.”
“Yes, a week will be good. I will arrange for their trip.”
“Thank you, Imam.”
The call ended abruptly without a response from the Imam. Abbas frowned, hurriedly returned to his rental car and drove back to the hotel.
Sleep did not come easily. The abruptness of the call ending continued to dominate his thoughts. Finally at 5 a.m., he rose, packed his suitcase, and checked out of the hotel.
Chapter 24
Springfield, MO
Friday
Driving at night eliminated more than an hour from the GPS’s estimated drive time to Springfield. The lack of traffic in Memphis at 2 a.m. saved thirty minutes with the remaining time made up along the route. He pulled into JR's parking lot at exactly 7:58 a.m., and by 8:30 a.m., the disk drive and cell phone were in JR’s hands. Since Kruger knew very little about what JR was doing, he quickly dozed off.
JR’s mumbling and sudden animation woke Kruger from his impromptu nap. Because the desk chair he occupied was not designed for a person six feet tall to sleep, he had a sharp pain in his back and his neck was stiff. JR was leaned forward on the edge of his chair, his fingers flying over the keyboard typing instructions. His head turned rapidly as he checked data on the three large monitors sitting on his desk. Finally he sat back in his chair.
“Kruger, you just hit the Powerball.”
Still half asleep, Kruger yawned, “What’ve you got?”
“These guys are clever. If I just had the cell phone, I wouldn't have found it. If I just had the hard drive, same results. Zip, nothing. But with both, the puzzle comes together.”
Kruger was tired, barely awake and out of patience. “WHAT FUCKING PUZZLE?”
JR looked at him with a smug grin and pointed to the computer screen. “How they communicate.”
Suddenly awake, Kruger walked to where JR was seated. “Okay, start over. What’ve you found and who are they?”
“THEY are, at minimum, six distinct individuals, probably more. But I can only identify six unique email addresses they are utilizing on a regular basis. They’re probably—no, not probably—definitely either ex-military or still in the military. The codes and abbreviations they use are military. They use a twenty-four hour clock and their messages are brief. Plus, their communication system was developed by individuals in Iraq and Afghanistan who knew their emails were being monitored by the NSA. Our guys discovered the system and reported it back to the Pentagon. I saw some of the classified memorandums several years ago.”
Kruger stared at JR. “I won’t ask how you saw them, just explain how they communicate.”
“It's simple. Email addresses are set up using one of the free email services, like Gmail or Hotmail. Anyone can set up an email account and use it on any computer they want. Are you with me so far?”
Kruger nodded. “Yes, yes, I'm aware of how email works. So?
“So, let's say you set up six email accounts, one for each member of the group. The leader knows all of them, but the members only know their email address and the leader’s. If the leader wants to send a message to member A, he opens that member’s email account and types a message. He then saves it as a draft. He changes the password for the email account and sends a text message with the new password to member A. When member A gets a text message, it’s the signal he has a new email. He opens his email account with the new password and reads the draft. He has now received an email without sending it through a bunch of servers via satellites. Those types of messages can't be intercepted by the NSA.”
“Why?”
“Because they've never been sent.”
Kruger thought about it for a second and said, “What about the text message? It's sent via cell phone towers.”
“There's the beauty of their system. It's just a bunch of random numbers and letters. It has no meaning unless you know what it's for. It's not even a code, it's random. It wouldn't be tagged by the NSA's computers because it doesn't contain any key words their computers search for. It's brilliant.”
“Brilliant in its simplicity.” Kruger started pacing. “Can you find out who the email accounts belong to?”
“Probably not a specific name, unless they access the internet on their home network. But as smart as these guys appear to be, I doubt they’re doing that.” He paused and grinned. “However, I can identify where the computer accessing the email is located.”
“Okay, could the agency figure this out with just the hard drive?”
JR shook his head. “No, it's too badly damaged. I was only able to figure this out by finding several server addresses I'm familiar with.”
“Could they figure it out with both the hard drive and cell phone?”
“Maybe, depends on the tech.”
“Could they if you provide a roadmap?”
JR looked at Kruger and said, “I try not to communicate with those types of law enforcement individuals.”
“You'd talk to Charlie, wouldn’t you?”
JR thought about it for a few seconds and said, “Yeah, I'd talk to him. He's cool with my situation.”
“Okay, I'm not sure I have to do it yet. It depends on a particular individual. If he decides to embarrass the agency, we'll send these items to Charlie. At that point you can walk him through it.”
JR’s face grew animated and suddenly he burst ou
t, “Whoa, Sean, I just thought of something. I could put a fire alarm on each of the computer addresses. That way I would be alerted when any of the computers were online. If, and this is a big if, they use a certain ISP on a regular basis, it would suggest their home address. From there, I could tell you the person’s name and physical address.”
“How?”
“Just hack their ISP and get their billing information.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Yes, but it’s the fastest way to find these guys. Do you have a problem with it?”
Kruger shrugged. “I don’t, do you?”
JR smiled and said, “I knew I liked you for a reason. You've got a larceny streak as long as mine.”
***
Kruger was preparing to drive to Kansas City when he thought to check CNN for the latest news on Dollar’s investigation. JR had several flat screens on the wall for this purpose. It was right at 2 p.m. and the top of the hour news recap was in progress. Finally, the anchor said, “We have breaking news from yesterday’s explosion near Atmore, Alabama. Scott Burnett has the latest. Scott?”
The remains of the house served as the backdrop, with yellow crime scene tape, little yellow flags in the yard, and a reporter standing off to the side. Scott Burnett said, “Late this morning, FBI Special Agent in Charge Franklin Dollar announced he will make a statement to the press at 2:30 p.m. No word on what he will say, but we hear there has been a new development in the investigation. We’ll be here for his news conference. Back to you, Jim.”
Kruger looked at JR and said, “At least the man is predictable. I'll bet you a dollar he says the case is closed, wanna bet?”
JR shook his head. “I'd lose.”
At 2:30 p.m., CNN cut to Scott Burnett again. “Jim, I was just told Agent Dollar will make a statement to the press in five minutes.”
Just like Dollar. Loves to keep people waiting, Kruger thought. He muttered, “Figures.”
JR said, “What'd you say?”
“Nothing. My original assessment of Dollar’s personality has been correct for the past seven years. He hasn’t changed a bit.”
Burnett continued to recap the events of the past twenty-four hours for the twenty-fourth time. Finally, the camera panned to a make-shift podium with the FBI seal on it. Franklin Dollar stood behind it and began reading from a prepared statement.
“Good afternoon, I am Franklin Dollar, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI Kansas City Field Office. Last Monday at the Kansas City Country Club Plaza, a deplorable act of terrorism was committed against the citizens of Kansas City. This act killed eight innocent civilians and wounded fifteen others. Since that time, the Kansas City FBI office has been diligently working non-stop to identify the perpetrator of this cowardly act.
“On Wednesday, an agent based in Kansas City identified a person of interest and tracked him to this rural community in southern Alabama. At approximately 3:30 p.m. yesterday, a federal warrant was issued in the name of one Thomas Cooper of Escambia County, Alabama. With the aid of local authorities, a legal arrest was attempted. During this attempt, the suspect commenced firing high caliber weaponry on local authorities, deputies returned fire, resulting in a lengthy exchange of gun fire.
“During the exchange, the suspect detonated ordinance inside the house. Forensic evidence suggests these ordinances were set as booby traps in the event of a police raid. After the detonation, several hundred pounds of C4 explosives were discovered in the suspect’s barn. The explosives used in the Kansas City attack were of the same type.
“In addition to the explosive ordinance, multiple firearms matching the type used in two additional killings in Washington, D.C., were discovered in the remains of the house. Travel records place the suspect in Washington, D.C., during the time of those murders.
“In light of these facts and additional evidence discovered during our search of the property, we are prepared to announce that Thomas Cooper was responsible for these heinous crimes. I will now answer a few questions.”
The reporters all shouted at once, until finally one question was heard.
“Agent Dollar, what was the name of the agent who tracked Cooper to this area?”
Kruger smiled, interested in how Dollar would respond to the question.
Dollar said, “The agent has requested his identity remain anonymous. Next question?”
JR had walked over to where Kruger was standing and said, “What an asshole.”
“Well, technically he didn't lie. He just didn't give anybody else credit. Guess it's time to send the cell phone and hard disk drive to Charlie. Dollar just stepped on himself.”
Additional questions were being yelled at Dollar, and he chose to answer very few. Finally someone said, “Agent Dollar, internet chatter says this is the work of a new domestic terrorist group. Can we have your response to those accusations?”
Dollar straightened his tie and said, “Conspiracy theories have been with us since the assassination of Lincoln, there is no factual basis this was the act of terrorists, foreign or domestic. This was the work of one man, and one man only. Thank you.”
With this statement, he turned and walked back to the investigation area. The camera returned to Scott Burnett, who started to recap the press conference.
Kruger turned the sound down with the remote. “Send the cell phone and hard disk drive to Charlie's home address, I'll call and tell him they’re coming. You’ll need to provide a roadmap for him on how to retrieve the data. In the meantime, set those alarms on the emails. I want these guys.”
***
Three hours later, Kruger walked into his living room. It was late and he was starting to feel the effects of less than three hours of sleep in the past two days. Stephanie greeted him with a kiss and said, “Hi, I missed you.”
He smiled and hugged her. “I missed you too.”
“Saw the press conference today. You weren’t mentioned. Why?”
“For one thing, I didn't want to be mentioned. Plus, the less I am associated with Franklin Dollar, the easier it will be to catch these guys.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man has no basis for stating Cooper was responsible for all three attacks. He got anxious and wanted the credit for solving a high-profile case. He doesn't realize we have evidence suggesting there are at least five additional individuals involved.”
“Didn’t you give that information to Dollar?”
Kruger shook his head. “No, we discovered it just a few minutes before his press conference. Dollar wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. He's over his head with his new position and the only way to keep the director from seeing his shortcomings is to declare the case closed. I feel sorry for the guys in the Kansas City office. Most of them are good, solid agents.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“Don't know.” He closed his eyes briefly while he yawned. “I'm officially off the investigation. But Seltzer implied he and Paul want me to continue to work it. Seltzer knows about JR, seems he and I have a common friend who knows all about my fishing trips.”
“Joseph?”
Kruger nodded.
“Apparently Joseph has known Alan a long time. Like me, he was the person who encouraged Alan to join the FBI. Right now, I’m tired and need to go to bed. I'll be able to think clearer in the morning.”
She hugged him. “I'll go with you, I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
Chapter 25
Springfield, MO
Saturday night
A designated laptop in the computer room was tasked to monitor the tracking cookies JR Diminski had attached to each of the identified computers. Using a program written for a client several years ago, he modified the software to send an email when any of those computers accessed the internet.
At exactly 10:14 p.m. Saturday, one of the target computers went active. JR’s cell phone vibrated with the receipt of an email alert. Rushing to the second floor, he checked to see which
computer had gone active. He quickly downloaded a computer worm to the active machine. His virus would attach itself to any email account the target computer accessed. Once another computer accessed the email account, the worm would attach itself to the new computer and record all keystrokes. Once the process was complete, when the now-infected computers accessed the internet, the worm would send files with the keystroke recordings to JR’s laptop.
When he would receive any of those files was unknown, but at least the process to monitor the group’s communications was starting. All he had to do now was sit back and wait. With a grin on his face, he walked back upstairs.
***
JR returned to the computer room at 2:28 a.m. Sunday morning. As usual, when he worked on a problem, he couldn't sleep. So he checked the tracking computer and found numerous downloads, more than he had anticipated. The time stamps on the files indicated they had arrived somewhere between 11 p.m. and midnight. Had something important occurred within the group today? He accessed some of the files and by 3 a.m., he was confident something was going on. Files continued to be received, and JR became increasingly confident he would soon be able understand and monitor the group’s communications. Finally at 4:30 a.m. his initial problem of monitoring the group was solved. Walking back upstairs, he crawled into bed and fell asleep immediately.
By 9 a.m. Sunday morning, JR was back on the second floor confirming what he had. He was now in possession of recordings of all messages typed on the group’s computers. In fact he found two previously unknown computers not found on Cooper’s cell phone and hard drive. The narrative contained within the keystroke files was disconcerting. He decided to call Kruger, a direct violation of his communication protocols. But something had changed within the group. The messages, though vague in content, contained a note of urgency. This was way beyond anything he had helped Kruger with in the past.
***
Alan Seltzer was up early sitting at the breakfast bar of their house with his first cup of coffee and reading the Sunday Washington Post. His wife was still asleep, allowing him a few minutes of quiet before they got ready to leave for church. After ten straight days without a break, the thought of an actual day off to relax was appealing. As he turned to the Op-Ed section, his cell phone vibrated.