Deadly Odds

by Allen Wyler

  Suddenly the intellectual challenge of solving a difficult puzzle intrigued Arnold, shifting his resentment at being forced into this job into the mindset of game playing. This was a challenge he could relate to. He dropped into one of the three metal chairs. “No offense, John, and I have no way of diplomatically asking without simply sounding insensitive, but out of curiosity, what’s your background?”

  Chang, clearly annoyed by the question, drilled Fisher with an I-told-you-so look. Fisher shrugged, so Chang answered with, “Undergrad at Carnegie Mellon, two years post-grad at the Stanford AI labs. Now the bureau.” Then, with a slight smirk, “What are your credentials?”

  “Hey, guys,” Fisher said before Arnold could answer. “Stay focused. We have a job to do.”

  Realizing he’d bruised Chang’s ego, Arnold scrambled to make amends. “Didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Sorry, bad choice of words.” Which was a bit of a lie. He resented the way Chang had snubbed his offer of a handshake. “What I meant was, you obviously know what you’re doing, so the thing I’m confused about is what makes you think I can do something you can’t?”

  Aw, shit. That sounded even worse.

  Frowning, Chang asked Fisher. “Seriously?”

  Fisher said, “Get on with it, John.”

  Chang turned back to Arnold. “Thought I already covered that: you have a personal tie to these guys,” pausing for effect. “From what I understand, you’ve had an intimate relationship with at least one member of the group.” He smirked. “Making you uniquely positioned to infiltrate them.” Chang smugly sat back again in the chair.

  Arnold sucked in a long, deep breath, held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, my bad. Let’s start fresh. What’s been your approach so far?”

  Chang uttered an intolerant sigh.

  “John?” Fisher said, taking the other metal chair, prepared to sit and listen.

  Chang picked up the mouse and again began absentmindedly sweeping it back and forth across a mouse-pad while explaining.

  After ten minutes of questions and answers, Chang asked Arnold, “Fisher says you use the Darknet. That right?”

  Arnold glanced at Davidson. Okay to answer?

  He nodded.

  “For some things, sure. Mostly for gambling.”

  Chang gave a confirmatory nod. “All our leads—which aren’t a lot more than basically a hunch—indicate this could be their preferred route for information transfer. And because you’re already familiar with using it, you’ll appreciate just how impossible it is to track anyone on it, much less try to find one of their portals.”

  Arnold was beginning to feel a connection with Chang now. “Yes, I get it. Makes you realize just how dependent we are on search engines.”

  Chang was no longer playing with the mouse. “Exactly.” Then addressing Fisher and Davidson, “There’s no Google for that. Sites are passed on mostly by word of mouth. Some sites are only known to a few people.” Back to Arnold, “We suspect that access to their cell is known only by their lieutenants. If we can uncover the address to their main communication site, you better believe we’ll penetrate it. Once we do that we can be fairly sure of discovering where they’re headquartered.”

  “Sounds easy,” Arnold muttered. “And if I get caught?”

  Chang glanced at Fisher to answer.

  Fisher moved to a large whiteboard on one wall, uncapped a black Sharpie, and pointed the end at Arnold. “Time to discuss strategy.” He printed the number 1 in the upper left-had corner.

  “Not surprisingly, their organization places a huge premium on security,” said Fisher. “If you start working with them, you’ll be under constant surveillance by their security people as well as ours. This means you must be extraordinarily cautious with any communication to us. It goes without saying that all communication must be minimized to only what’s absolutely—and I emphasize absolutely—essential. John?”

  Chang cleared his throat. “I know you know this, but I’ll emphasize it just so we’re perfectly clear: no text messaging, no emails. Nothing that has even the remotest chance of leaving a digital trace. We’ll give you a special cell phone with a special number on speed dial in the unlikely event you need to get in touch. We monitor the number continuously until this operation is finished. But—and I can’t emphasize this enough—use it only in an extreme emergency. All other routine communication to us will use the draft message technique.”

  Davidson raised his hand. “Whoa, hold on. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Chang explained, “It’s an ingenious way terrorists pass messages surreptitiously. We don’t know for certain, but believe it originated with al-Qaeda. Problem is, it’s so damned effective it’s now the terrorists’ preferred means of communication.

  “Works like this: Agent 1 wants to send Agent 2 a message, but they both assume their emails and phone lines are monitored and they’re being tailed, so they can’t use an internet café or other public portal. So they set up a new email account with G-Mail, Hotmail, or whatever. The particular choice doesn’t matter long as the account is web-based. Or, in the cloud, if you prefer to use that term. Both agents have the account name and password and can access it from anywhere in the world with an internet connection: an internet café in Moscow, Istanbul, Peoria, or wherever. Agent 1 logs onto the account and starts a message but instead of sending it he saves it as a draft. Once that’s done the message sits in the email account until it’s erased. Agent 2 can now log into the same account and access the same draft. Soon as he’s read it, he deletes it. Bingo, the information is passed between them without actually sending an email that could be intercepted. Meaning that anyone monitoring either agent’s email activity externally doesn’t see a thing. Get it?”

  Davidson nodded, a faint smile across his lips. “Tricky.”

  Chang returned the smile. “Damn right it is. What it means is that unless we have the account name and password and are logged on and monitoring it 24/7, we’ll miss it.”

  Fisher asked, “We finished with this part? Can we move on to the next topic?”

  Chang nodded.

  Fisher said, “There will be times when we need to pass Arnold information. But because he’s very likely going to be either under Jahandar surveillance or have a guard physically next to him, it won’t be safe to approach him directly. This is where you come in,” speaking to Davidson. “All communication other than a dire emergency must come through you.”

  “Won’t that be suspicious?” Arnold asked.

  “No. You have every reason to have conferences with your lawyer. After all, there’s an ongoing investigation into Howard Stein’s murder, and you’re a person of interest until the case is officially closed, which I guarantee won’t happen until this issue is settled. I’d also be very surprised if any meeting between the two of you isn’t monitored by one of Jahandar’s group, so you need to exercise extreme caution on what you say and how you say it. They could be surveilling you with highly directional mikes and video and could use lip readers. So you’ll have to assume any discussion is not secure. So be proactive soon as this meeting’s over and set up some codes.”

  Arnold’s palms were sweating and his mouth was dry again. He realized he was pressing his gut, scared to death. He forced himself to think of Howie, of how sweet revenge would feel. Revenge would make any risk worthwhile.

  Davidson tapped Arnold’s arm. “Hey, you okay?”

  Arnold, now dizzy, grabbed the edge of the table to keep from falling over. “Hell, no. The thing you guys seem to be ignoring is while I’m trying to steal their information, those assholes are going to be trying to do the same with me. It’s going to be a race. If they penetrate my system first, I’m toast.”

  Chang smirked. “Means you gotta be the first, is all.”

  Fisher handed Arnold a cell phone. “Here’s the phone. Remember, only for a dire emergency. Familiarize yourself with the speed dial.”

  Arnold inspected it: simple clamshell, small an
d compact, easy to use, probably disposable.

  “Show us you can use the speed dial.”

  Arnold flipped it open, powered it on, demonstrated how easy it was to operate.

  Fisher said, “At the risk of being irritating, I repeat: use that only for a dire emergency. Everything else goes through Davidson.”

  “What about something urgent but not quite emergent? Say, I need to set up a meeting?”

  Chen fielded that one with, “In that case, Tweet Happy Birthday Gary, Palmer, or John, depending on which of us you need to meet. We’ll try to get there soon as we can. Which is the next point to discuss: the meeting place. What’s works for you?”

  Arnold considered that a moment. Someplace near the house would the most likely spot. Also, it should be somewhere that was part of his normal routine.

  “How does Greenlake sound? I jog or walk the outer path several times a week, so it makes perfect sense for me to go there. How about the field house with the swimming pool? Evans pool. How about just outside the front door in the parking lot.”

  Fisher nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

  Silence.

  Fisher said, “That about covers it unless somebody has something more to add. Questions? John? Arnold?”

  “Yeah, I have one,” Arnold answered. “What am I supposed to do now? How do I get things going?” He could think of no way to contact the Jahandars other than through Breeze’s website and wasn’t overly thrilled about going there.

  Fisher nodded. “Right now, nothing. Go home, act normal, wait.”

  “Really?” Minutes ago this was urgent. Waiting didn’t make much sense.

  “Yes. Way I see it, Firouz and Karim now know a couple things. One: they know your laptop is worthless. Two: they know you witnessed the murder. If it’s true they also want your system, then it makes sense that they would prefer you alive and too intimidated to testify. They also want your help. In all likelihood, they believe that because of your previous involvement in the embassy bombing you’ll keep your mouth shut. So it’s very likely they’ll try to contact you soon. Howard’s funeral is tomorrow. We estimate that’s the first place they might try. In fact, it’s a very likely place. It’s out in the open where they can observe you to make sure you’re not under surveillance. They’ll contact you once they believe it’s clear. If so, let them. Listen to what they offer and get back to us straightaway through Palmer.”

  Arnold wasn’t so convinced Fisher had it right. His gut pain increased. “What if he tries to kill me?”

  Fisher shook his head. “Doubt they want to do that. Besides, we’ll have your back. You’ll not be able to see us and they’ll not be able to see us, but we’ll be able to see you. Have faith, play your part, and we’ll get you through this.”

  Arnold wanted to vomit. “Oy!”

  22.

  Davidson curbed the Mercedes in front of Arnold’s home, a small, two-story Tudor-style house with a high peaked roof and mature shrubs filling the surrounding beds. He cut the engine, asked, “Want me to sweep the place for bugs?”

  Arnold stopped reaching for the door handle, startled for not having thought of the possibility, which was strange, considering his usual security consciousness. Made sense. In a way. What he found even more interesting was that Davidson would have equipment readily available for the task. More and more, Davidson impressed him as someone you should never try to outwit without a lot of thought and preparation. And perhaps not even then. Did Davidson go out of his way to appear so harmless and unsuspecting? Did that strategy serve him well in the courtroom? Probably.

  “You can do that? I mean, you just drive around with equipment in the trunk of your car so you can sweep for bugs any place, any time.” He hadn’t bothered to look in the backseat of the car and certainly hadn’t inspected the contents of the trunk. But now he craned his neck for a glimpse and noticed a black case about the size of a briefcase on the back seat. No telling what it might be. Jesus, no telling the things Davidson might be hiding in the trunk.

  The lawyer chuckled. “Matter of fact, I do. Never know who might want to eavesdrop on me. Especially when preparing for trial. You’d be amazed what your opposition will stoop to. In addition, there are people who just flat-out hate criminal defense attorneys.”

  Which brought up a point that had always bothered Arnold. “The people you defend, you know for sure they’re criminals?”

  “Some of the time.”

  Arnold let go of the door handle and turned to face him. “Then how can you, in good conscience, defend them? How do you justify that? Is it the money?” Yeah, of course it was the money. How else could someone stoop so low?

  Davidson chuckled, a tired-sounding laugh. “It’s complicated and probably a lot of things all rolled into one. I’ve never tried to analyze all the reasons, but the standard one you’ll get from any criminal defense lawyer is that everyone deserves to be defended in a court of law. It’s written into our constitutional rights, and they’ll correctly point out that any person charged with a crime is innocent until proven guilty, et cetera, et cetera. For me, it’s pretty simple: I thrive on the challenge. Makes me want to get up in the morning and work on the next case, see how well I can stand up against incredible odds and some very smart prosecutors. And, I’ll admit, it doesn’t hurt when it pays well. What can I say?”

  Still didn’t make it acceptable, and the favorable impression Arnold had had of Davidson a moment before waned significantly. He reminded himself that he, himself, was technically a criminal for not paying taxes, but that really didn’t seem like such a crime because it wasn’t directed against anyone. At least not directly. And it wasn’t violent. But the real point was that not paying taxes was an unintentional act, an act of omission. At the moment, he was employing a criminal defense lawyer in the hopes of being able to beat any charges, especially the ones for abetting the Jahandars. So, what did that make him? Still, it didn’t seem quite the same.

  “But what about a guy like Dzhokhar Tsarmaev, the Boston bomber?” Arnold asked. “There’s no doubt he’s guilty. In fact, he admitted as much when he and his brother hijacked the SUV. How can anyone with a conscience defend a bastard like that?”

  Davidson shook his head. “His crime still deserves a fair trial. Doesn’t mean he won’t be convicted. It certainly doesn’t negate his right to have a lawyer—who knows the legal ropes—to defend him.”

  “But what about those times a defense lawyer gets a guilty person off purely on some weird legal technicality? How do you justify that?”

  Davidson seemed to relax back into the bucket seat and dropped his hands into his lap, obviously resigned to defending his chosen profession. He appeared bored, perhaps from having faced this subject ad nauseam throughout his career. For several seconds he seemed to be collecting his thoughts or marshalling a counterpoint. “Isn’t it true that in your computing career you’ve broken into other people’s computers and networks?”

  Arnold grudgingly allowed a half-shrug capitulation, now aware where Davidson was taking this. But, he reminded himself, he started it. “I guess…”

  Davidson ran his palm back and forth over the top of the steering wheel, polishing the glossy wood. “Without getting into an argument over semantics or philosophy, that’s considered hacking. Am I right?”

  Arnold turned to look at his house instead of Davidson. He pretty much knew how this would end and was peeved by Davidson’s point. He knew that none of his motivation or activities had ever been malicious. Perhaps Davidson was like the majority of people who didn’t realize that the true meaning of the term “hacker” referred to a person with an in-depth understanding of computers and their operating systems instead of the Hollywood-inspired stereotypic image of the destructive, pimply-faced intruder intent on destroying or exploiting. “I guess.”

  “You guess? I believe that exactly what it’s called. What justification do hackers give for illegally breaking and entering other people’s computer systems, be they personal or in
stitutional?”

  Arnold didn’t bother to answer because he knew his silence was, in itself, an answer.

  “I know the argument you guys make,” Davidson continued. “Hackers self-righteously claim they’re simply exposing security flaws in whatever system they unlawfully enter, and by doing so, they cause better software to be developed.”

  Arnold couldn’t stand not saying something in rebuttal. “So you’re saying it’s okay to get a killer off because it’ll result in better laws? I don’t buy that.” Lame, true, but at least it was something…

  “Then that’s your problem, not mine.” Davidson opened his door to step out.

  “Yeah, okay, let’s do it.” Arnold was more curious to see what kind of equipment Davidson would come up with than argue the point any longer. Besides he grudgingly had to admit, Davidson had skillfully made his point.

  Arnold led Davidson into the house through the front door, into a small living room with a dining room to the right. An archway directly across from the front door led to a stairway to upstairs and a hall connecting a small TV room to the left of the stairs and the kitchen to the right. Hardwood floors except for the tiled kitchen floor, painted plaster walls from the days when builders had used real plaster, muted wall colors. The small, compact Tudor was a typical design of this neighborhood and was probably mirrored numerous times within a few blocks.

  Arnold took only one step into the living room before he froze with the realization of what he was seeing. The place was a mess: two end-table lamps overturned, several latex gloves strewn haphazardly over the rug and furniture along with ripped paper bandage wrappers. One corner of the rug remained folded back. Black fingerprint dust smudged on tables and walls. Flies buzzed around a pool of crusted dried blood on the floor. He realized this was probably the exact spot where Howard had died. The thought almost caused him to vomit.