“Umm, no comment.”
“Uh-huh. Well, don’t let Fang find out.”
Kane chuckled. “It’s always okay to look.”
“Not always.”
“This is true. But in the privacy of my own car, it is.” Leroux heard Kane tapping a keyboard. “Get one of your people to contact Agent Graf. We need to find her partner before he gets nervous.”
Leroux snapped his fingers and Sonya Tong nodded, immediately going to work. “Do you think he knows it was used?”
“Maybe. But somebody knows, and depending on who it was, they might want to tie up loose ends.”
Leroux paused, leaning back in his chair. “You think it could be government?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time the Russians, Chinese, or North Koreans did something. Or the Iranians for that matter.”
Leroux spun in his chair, Randy Child smiling at him.
“Addictive, isn’t it?”
Leroux dropped his foot, stopping the spin. “I can’t see a foreign government doing a ransomware attack. It makes no sense. Some sort of attempt at pulling data or attacking our infrastructure, sure, but not a ransomware attack that appears almost random in nature.”
“Sir, I can’t reach her.”
Leroux turned to Tong. “Where is she?”
Tong pointed at the large set of displays wrapping around the front of the room. “I’ve got her cellphone in Albany. Stationary.”
“Can we get an image of her?”
Tong pecked away at her keyboard, accessing a database of millions of cameras they could tap into, including a disturbing number of private cameras installed in homes, with either no security, or with security left on the default settings by their owners.
“I’ve got an angle.” An image appeared from a veranda, a porch swing blocking part of the view. Leroux rose and stepped toward the displays, examining the area. Nobody was visible, though there were several cars parked on the street. It was too dark to see inside. He pointed blindly behind him at Tong. “Dial her number again.”
“Yes, sir.” He heard Tong’s keyboard. “It’s ringing.”
Something glowed inside one of the cars and Leroux smiled, pointing at it. “That’s her.”
“Okay, send me her number and location,” said Kane. Leroux glanced at Tong who nodded, sending the information. “Okay, got it. I’m about an hour from there. Update me if she moves.”
“Will do.”
“Holy shit!”
Leroux turned toward their youngest team member, Randy Child. “What is it?”
Child tapped at his keyboard then pointed to the displays, dozens of websites appearing.
“What am I looking at?” But he didn’t need to wait for the answer as his brain caught up with his eyes. Website after website was repeating the same or similar headline.
NSA Leak Responsible for Ransomware Attack
“They’ve got everything including Hummel’s name, Agent Graf’s, and her partner.”
Leroux spun toward Child. “What is it?”
“Donald Penn.”
“Find him.” Child nodded, going to work as Leroux pressed his headset a little tighter against his ear. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I’m looking at it now. You’ve got to find out who leaked that story. The timing is too coincidental and the details too specific. This is someone with insider knowledge.”
“Do you think Graf could have leaked it?”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.”
“Because she’s hot?”
Kane chuckled. “No, because if it were her, she’d be preparing for blowback, not sitting on a residential street somewhere on a stakeout.”
Leroux stared at the image of the car. “What makes you think she’s on a stakeout?”
“She’s involved in investigating the biggest ransomware attack in history, yet she’s sitting in a car in Albany. That’s a stakeout.”
“Found him.”
Leroux turned to Child. “Where is he?”
“You’re not going to believe it, but”—he pointed at the image of Graf’s car—“he lives about two houses down from where she’s parked.”
A victory cry erupted from Kane. “I told you! She suspects him too!”
“What do we know about him?”
Child quickly read off the highlights. “It looks like he’s no longer with the NSA. Left about a year and a half ago.”
Leroux sat, chewing his cheek. “So, not long after the leak.”
“Right. According to the IRS, he’s self-employed. I can’t find anything indicating what he’s self-employed at, though.”
Kane beat Leroux to it. “Sounds to me like someone took a payoff and quit the daily grind. Listen, is there any way you can send me some backup? My Spidey senses are telling me I’m walking into something.”
Leroux agreed. “I’ll have to talk to the Director. Technically you’re not legally operational.”
“Hey, I thought I was Homeland?”
Leroux chuckled. “You’re Homeland until someone at Homeland discovers that fact. Then you’re grassed ass.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell the Chief.”
Leroux’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
“Well, if you tell him, then he’s going to want me to play nice and obey all kinds of inconvenient rules.”
Leroux grinned. “Since when did rules ever stop you?”
“This is true. I’m on my way to Graf’s position. Don’t call me if he says to play nice.”
The line went dead, leaving those in the room who didn’t know Kane to wonder if he was serious. Fortunately, most of them knew him all too well.
He turned to Tong. “Contact the Director’s office. I need to see him ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to Child. “Who leaked the story?”
Child shrugged. “Don’t know yet, but RT News leaked it first.”
Leroux frowned. “The Russians.”
25
Outside Penn Residence
Albany, New York
Janine Graf stared at her phone, vibrating with another message from the office, urgently requesting she contact them. By ignoring all their calls and messages, she could plausibly say she had left the phone in her car, or elsewhere.
Because right now, she couldn’t let them know where she was.
It had been a shock when Penn had announced he was leaving the agency, though his explanation had been reasonable. The two of them had been essentially demoted after the stolen data had “disappeared” into the ether. She knew the whispers in the corridors were that the data had been handed off to someone else, and that they had screwed up royally.
She didn’t believe it.
Or at least, hadn’t until a few months ago when a segment of it showed up for sale on the Dark Web. But it wasn’t until this week that she truly questioned everything.
The ransomware attack was the number one priority at the NSA—everyone that could be spared was working on it. Because of her familiarity with the case, she had been brought in—against the better judgment of her bosses, she was certain—and was privy to much of what was going on. It had been confirmed that the exploit used was the one identified by Hummel, and the version of the tool used to exploit it was identical to the one Hummel wrote two years ago.
And she knew it wasn’t Hummel behind it.
She believed him. She believed his story. He had been in love with her, and merely wanted to prove himself to her so that she’d take him back. This had nothing to do with betraying his country, of theft for profit or gain, and everything to do with love. She wouldn’t even have characterized it as lust, which was what most Honeypot stings relied upon. Get a man worked up enough, obsessed enough, and far too often he could be manipulated with ease, where the word “love” only entered into it when followed by “to slam you against the headboard.”
And men weren’t the only ones guilty of falling for it, though from her experience, women were more apt to
fall in love than lust—though not all of them.
But not Hummel. For him, it was purely love, and to this day, she still felt a little guilty about it. You couldn’t spend hours every night chatting with someone, even if it was from behind a keyboard, and not develop some sort of attachment to them. When she had revealed the truth to Hummel, and their communication had been terminated permanently, she had discovered a hole that she still hadn’t filled. Her evenings were empty without him in them, and even though most of what she fed him were lies, all part of the intricate cover developed for her by NSA staffers locked away deep inside Fort George G. Meade, there were elements of truth to it.
When she had a bad day at work, or an encounter with some idiot at the grocery store, or trouble with her mother, she vented to him, and he was the sympathetic ear she didn’t have in her real life. Agents didn’t share their problems—it made them look weak. And as a woman, she couldn’t have any male think of her as weak—it would just confirm in their sometimes sexist minds that the only reason she had the job she did was because she had tits and had slept with the right person.
And if she had confided in her partner, she might have been confiding with a traitor.
She stared at Penn’s house, her chest tightening as she relived the moment she realized it had to be him behind it all. He had been the one to “volunteer” them for the ToolKit assignment, and he had been the one to insist the data had to actually be removed from the building for there to be no doubt a crime had been committed.
And he had been the one to contradict Hummel, by claiming the memory stick was blank.
It had never occurred to her that Penn could be lying. It had also never occurred to her that Hummel could be lying. Why would a man, accused of treason, stick to his story when the government itself was claiming the memory stick was blank? All he had to do was say he had wiped it after copying the files, deciding it wasn’t worth breaking the law to impress a woman.
Yet he hadn’t, even after finding out the woman he was trying to impress was a liar, with no interest in him whatsoever.
They both couldn’t be telling the truth, which meant, until a few days ago, that Hummel had screwed up somehow.
But now she didn’t believe that for a moment, and never really had. He was too good.
Yet if Penn had been lying, if he had found the data and copied it, then wiped it himself, Hummel’s story fit. And so did Penn’s actions afterward. If he stole the data and sold it, he’d probably have collected a tidy sum. And that meant he wouldn’t need to work. He waited long enough before resigning so no one would suspect the two events were related, then moved, so any changes in lifestyle wouldn’t be noticed by his neighbors, and he would have an excuse to not keep in contact with his former colleagues.
She hadn’t seen him in well over a year.
And the house he now lived in was easily half again as big as his last, the Jag a lot nicer than the Hyundai he had been driving while at the agency, though proof that money didn’t mean brains.
His wife had a business, and she could have become a success, though it was difficult to tell from a website. She couldn’t access any type of records on him or her without raising flags, so she had to rely on her gut.
And her gut told her this bastard was dirty.
He had made a fool out of her, destroyed her career, and now was living the life of Riley while she toiled away, struggling to rebuild her reputation.
Her phone vibrated again and she glanced at it.
Mom?
Her mother never called at this hour, which meant something was wrong. She had to take it. She swiped her thumb. “Mom? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“I’m supposed to be asking you that question. Are you in trouble?”
Graf’s eyes narrowed. “No. Why?”
“Well, your name is all over the news.”
Her eyebrows shot up and she leaned over, activating her iPad and pulling up CNN’s website. “What are they saying?”
“They’re saying you were part of some operation that went bad, and valuable data was stolen.”
Holy shit!
She tapped on the lead story and cursed.
“You are in trouble, aren’t you?”
She quickly scanned the article, the entire op laid bare, along with all the names involved.
How could they have possibly found out?
“Honey, answer me.”
She tossed the iPad on the passenger seat and closed her eyes. “No, Mom, I’m not in trouble. Whoever leaked the story will be, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s not what they’re saying.”
“Who, the idiots posing as reporters? You know never to listen to them.”
“I don’t have to. I can listen to any channel or read any website. They’re all talking about this. Everyone.” There was a sigh. “Oh, dear, I’m so worried about you. You know the way things are these days. They always look for someone to blame, and I think they’re trying to blame this whole computer attack thing on you.”
Damn right they are, but who is “they?”
“I’ve gotta go, Mom, I’m working. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me later?”
“No promises tonight, but I’ll definitely call if I get a chance tomorrow. Love you.”
“I love you too, take care of yourself.”
Graf ended the call, scowling at Penn’s house. With the story out, there was little doubt he either already knew his name was public, or soon would. And if he was involved, he would be going to ground, and could do it at any moment.
Her phone vibrated again.
I have been told to tell you to call or kiss your career goodbye.
She frowned. It was her new partner, Mulgrew, whom she had told earlier she was taking the night off. She sighed, then dialed her number.
“Oh, thank God! Do you know what’s going on?”
She smiled at the panic in Mulgrew’s voice. She was good people. “I just found out.”
“Where are you? Gordon has been on my back all evening to find you. He wants you to come in, now.”
“I’m at his place.”
There was a pause. “Whose?”
“Penn’s.”
Mulgrew’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Are you crazy? What are you doing there?”
“If you think I’m crazy, then you already know.”
“You think he’s the mole?”
“Yes.”
“Is that Graf?”
Graf’s stomach flipped at the sound of Gordon’s voice in the background.
“Give me the phone.” There was a burst of static then her boss’ voice came on the line. “Graf, is that you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why the hell have you been ignoring my calls?”
“I haven’t been, sir, I just turned—”
“Bullshit. We’re the damned NSA, we can tell when your phone is on or off. Never mind that. I want you in here, now.”
“I can’t do that, sir.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m at Penn’s house. I’m going to—”
“You’ll do nothing! Understood? I’ve already got a team on the way to bring him in.” There was a pause. “Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing there?”
“I figured it had to be him, sir. He had to have been the one to steal the data. He’s the only one who had the opportunity, and if you could see his house and car, you’d know he’s behind all of this.”
Gordon calmed slightly. “Yeah, that’s what we just figured out on this end too once that news story broke.” He sighed. “Listen, wait for the team, don’t do anything stupid, understood?”
“What if I see him leave?”
“Then follow him. But do not engage. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. And once he’s been picked up, get your ass in here. No excuses.”
“Yes, sir.”
&nbs
p; The call ended and she drew a long breath.
My career just might survive the night.
26
Temple Technologies Corporate Head Office
Mountain View, California
“Are you watching this?”
Tanya Davis waved her iPad as she stepped into Franklin Temple’s office. “I think everyone in the country is. I’ve already had half a dozen media outlets request interviews, and security says there are several camera trucks setting up downstairs.”
Temple stood, pacing back and forth along the windows of his corner office, his hands clasped behind his head as he battled the rage. He spun, jabbing a finger at the chair occupied earlier that week by the lackey sent to placate him. “That little shit sat right in that chair and lied to me! They knew all along that they were responsible for what happened to my little angel, but they didn’t have the balls to admit it.”
“It would appear so.”
“My own damn country killed my daughter!” He resumed his pacing, staring at the ceiling as Davis sat in her customary seat, working her tablet.
“You’re getting quite a few emails from your friends and business associates. They’re expressing their anger at the news, and wondering how they can help.”
“Where’s Simmons?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well find out.”
She nodded, pulling out her phone as she rose. He heard a whispered conversation before she turned to him. “He’s already on a plane. Apparently his team caught wind of the leaked NSA story a couple of hours ago. They’re already on their way to interview the suspect involved in the theft two years ago.”
Temple smiled slightly.
He’s good.
“Excellent. Have him contact us as soon as he knows anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Davis returned to her conversation then ended the call. “With this new information, we might be able to actually make some progress in the investigation.”
Temple stared at her for a moment. “To what end? Our government is responsible.”
“Ultimately, yes. But they didn’t launch the attack. Someone else did, and now maybe we can find out who.”
Temple sighed, dropping into his chair. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight. This entire situation is complete and utter bullshit. If that story is right, they allowed this ToolKit, or whatever the hell they called it, to be stolen, all as a loyalty test! Who the hell does that?”
Retribution - A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller Book #7 Page 8