by Tom Clancy
"Big if," Toni said.
"Yeah, but I've done a little poking around. None of the various militaries and corps who have gone to the new AMPD standard — that's abstract multidimensional point-distance encryption — were bothered by these attacks. Could be coincidence, but a QC wouldn't be able to crack those. It wouldn't matter how fast it could crunch numbers, AMPD standard would be immune. Of course, only a handful of people have shifted to the new method."
"All right," Michaels said. "But if somebody had created such a thing, wouldn't we know about it?"
"Eventually. You couldn't keep it hidden forever, but maybe you could for a while. The technology and gear necessary wouldn't be something you could cook up in a high school computer lab or in the corner of your Uncle Albert's electronics hobby shop. We're talking a multimillion-dollar operation, custom-made hardware, lots of bells and whistles, a support staff, programmers, all like that. Sooner or later, somebody will stumble into this from outside; it's not something you can hide with a piece of camo net. But even if you knew where it was, as long as it was the only one out there, it'd sure be a big damned wolf among the sheep."
"A QC seems kind of slim," Toni said. "Any corroborative information?"
"Nothing I can lay on a table and prove," Jay said. "Then again, if such a thing existed, it would perfectly fit the parameters."
"And in your expert opinion, this is what you think it is?" That from Howard.
"Yes, sir. Nothing else comes close. I've searched the web and found everybody serious who's ever published anything in the field. On the list are a couple of guys in the U.K. One of whom — a man named Peter Bascomb-Coombs — did some flat-out brilliant theoretical work a couple of years back. He's head and shoulders above most, and I can't begin to stay with him. I don't even know anybody who can stay with him. He used to be in London, but he's dropped out of sight."
Howard said, "Are we looking at him as somebody to help us out? Or as a suspect?"
"Either way, I'd talk to him if I was there. I can't find a public e-address for him. It seems odd a guy that sharp would just disappear. He was too young to retire, and if he'd croaked, there would have been something about it in the news."
"Give us what you have on him, and we'll check it out locally," Michaels said.
"Already uploaded," Jay said. There was a short pause, then he said, "I've got to get back to the hunt. I think I'm gonna be able to run this beast down. I'm close."
"Be careful, Jay," Toni said. There was no need to remind him why. If anybody knew, he did.
"Yeah. Thanks. I'll keep you posted."
Angela had been tapping commands into her flatscreen, and she looked up as Jay discommed. "Got the information about Mr. Bascomb-Coombs. I'm running a search… hello?"
"What?" Michaels said.
"Here's our man," she said. "Employed by ComCo U.K. They are a privately held computer company that produces, among other things, high-end workstation motherboards."
"He's a computer geek working for a computer company," Fernandez said. "Is this a big surprise?"
"Not in itself, no," she said. "But ComCo U.K. is owned by Lord Geoffrey Goswell."
Where had he heard that name before? Michaels wondered. Then he remembered.
Howard beat him to saying it. "Is that the same guy whose security chief is the one in the store with our assassin and the dead guy?"
"Yes," Angela said.
"Well, well." Howard said. "Small world."
"Probably doesn't mean anything," Angela continued. "Goswell owns several companies and has thousands of employees scattered all over the country. Anywhere you go in England, Scotland, Wales, or Ireland, you are apt to run into somebody who works for him or who knows somebody who works for him."
Michaels shook his head. He didn't like coincidences. Stranger things had surely happened, but this had a fishy smell all of a sudden. "Tell you what, put off that interview with Peel for now. Pretend it was nothing, tell him you've gotten things resolved, you'll call him back later if you need to see him. I think we need to know a little more about his boss before we go blundering into his den."
Howard nodded, as did Fernandez and Toni. Angela gave him a small smile, and he felt his heart stumble and bang into the wall of his chest. He did not look at Toni. He couldn't take the risk.
Thursday, April 14th
London, England
As he drove away along Old Kent Road, passing the gasworks, Peel was royally pissed. Bascomb-Coombs had taken the day off yesterday, and when he'd gone to find the man, he'd missed him. According to his operatives, Bascomb-Coombs was not in evidence at his flat nor did he have his automobile, which was parked at his garage where it had been all day. He was not answering his phone, either.
Another pass by the office suite was also a waste of time.
Where the devil was he?
It was his own fault, Peel knew. He had pulled his men off because he wanted to deal with Bascomb-Coombs himself. He did not want them around when he did it, and so when the bastard went missing, he had no one to blame save himself. Where had the bugger gone? And why?
His phone chimed at him.
"Hello, Peel here."
"Major Peel? Angela Cooper here."
The woman from Intelligence. Another brick on his already overloaded lorry. They called him from time to time about all that Irish business. Whenever some flaming shanty potato-eater blew something up, they always called, as if Peel were somehow responsible for those lunatics. "Ms. Cooper. I haven't forgotten our appointment this afternoon."
"As it happens, sir, we won't be needing to speak to you after all. The, ah, matter at hand has resolved itself. Sorry to have bothered you."
Thank God for tiny favors. At least he wouldn't have to deal with these bloody idiots again. "Quite all right."
"I'll ring off now. Thank you for your cooperation."
After the disconnect, Peel looked in his rearview mirror to make certain he had not lost Ruzhyo. He had not.
Well, where to now, Peel, old man? Our rogue scientist seems to have flown the coop. He's not at his digs or usual haunts, and surely that only confirms it. He's lied to you, tried to have you offed, and cheated you out of a million EUs as well. Best you find him and take care of the problem before it gets worse.
Easier said, however, than done.
It was a warm and sunny day, and Howard, in civilian clothes, strolled along the sidewalks a few blocks from MI-6's HQ, enjoying the weather and city. London was quite a cosmopolitan place. People walked past in strange outfits, speaking foreign languages, looking very much at home in the English city.
Next to him, also dressed in civvies, Julio smiled at a pair of teenage girls wearing microskirts and platform shoes with soles as thick as a Washington, D.C., phone book. The girls smiled back at Julio and gave Howard a long and appraising look. Christ, both men were old enough to be their fathers. And if they fell off those monster shoes, they'd surely break an ankle or worse. Howard raised an eyebrow at his sergeant.
"Hey, you know what they say, a thing of beauty is a joy forever."
"And jailbait is jailbait no matter where you go. Aren't you getting a son and a wife soon?"
"You need to loosen up, John. Looking isn't the same as doing."
"You've been a bachelor for a long time, Julio. You sure you are going to be able to make the transition?"
"To be absolutely honest, I don't know. I think so. I'm gonna give it my best shot. But you know as well as I do that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy."
"You looking at marriage like a war, Sergeant?"
"Not exactly a war, but certainly unfamiliar territory. I mean, I love Jo, I want to wake up next to her every morning, and she's gonna be the mother of my child, but I'm not some eighteen-year-old recruit fresh off the farm and never been to town."
"That's for sure." He let that sit for a while, then said, "So what do you think about this business?"
He shrugged. "This Goswell guy being
part of the old boy network and above reproach and all that doesn't sound all that different from home. Maybe he doesn't have anything to do with anything. But every rich and famous businessman or politician I ever heard of who got a bright light shined into his closet showed some skeletons hanging in the back. And it seems real odd to me that our ice man Ruzhyo is hooked up with this major who works for Mr. High and Mighty."
"That's how I see it, too."
A gorgeous, cafe-au-lait woman in a black and red silk dress strode along the sidewalk toward them. With the heels she was wearing, she was a couple of inches over six feet, easy. A model, maybe. She went past them in a subtle cloud of expensive perfume. Julio turned to watch her, and Howard glanced over his shoulder, trying to be unobtrusive about it.
"Looks good from the back," Julio said. "Wouldn't you say, Colonel?"
He'd noticed Howard's quick glance.
He smiled, caught. "I have to admit she does."
"Married as you are and all?"
Howard just grinned.
"So, what now, John?"
"We let British Intelligence gather everything they think we ought to know, and then we see what's what. Then we take care of it and go home. All these women make me miss my wife."
Fernandez laughed. "I hear that."
Chapter 36
Thursday, April 14th
MI-6, London, England
When Toni came back from the loo into the conference room, Alex and Cooper stood at the end of the conference table, talking. They almost literally had their heads together, close enough to be breathing each other's air.
Toni felt a pang of jealousy. They looked up, saw her, but didn't move. That was good. If they had jumped apart when they saw her, that would have been something to worry about. Still, she didn't have any reason to be uneasy. She knew Alex.
"Anything new?" she asked.
"We've got the intel on Goswell and Peel," Alex said. "And some interesting developments. Colonel Howard and Sergeant Fernandez are on their way here."
Even as he said it, the two men arrived.
"Angela, if you would?"
Cooper stood as the others took their seats. She touched her flatscreen and a projection lit over the conference table.
"Lord Geoffrey Goswell's estate in Sussex," she began. "It's called The Yews. He spends most of his time there. The place sits on several hundred acres that include the main house, smaller cottages, and various out-buildings."
More images flashed into view.
"Except for staff, his lordship — he's a widower — lives there alone. He has places in London, Brighton, Manchester, a villa in the south of France, and various houses or condominiums in Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, India, and the United States. Here is a list of the companies he owns all or part of. His personal fortune is estimated at just under two billion."
"Must be hard," Fernandez allowed.
Cooper continued: "Peel, whom we've discussed at some length before, heads Goswell's personal security. He's got anywhere from half a dozen to ten men, all ex-military, all heavily armed, patrolling the estate at any given time."
"I thought guns were more or less illegal here," Howard said.
Cooper said, "For ordinary citizens, yes. No handguns, and all rifles and shotguns must be locked up except when actually in use for target shooting or hunting. No military-style assault weapons allowed in any case."
Fernandez said, "Let me guess: When you have a couple billion in the old piggy bank, the rules are different, right?"
Cooper gave him a tight smile. "Just so."
"Please continue," Alex said. "Let's keep the editorial comments down, shall we?"
"We've put a couple of teams on the roads leading to the estate, and less than an hour ago, a rental car arrived there. A check of the car agency records indicate it was rented yesterday in Southampton by Peter Bascomb-Coombs. Our operatives managed to get a blurry picture of the driver, and it appears to be the computer scientist."
That got a nice reaction.
"Major Peel, also under surveillance, is currently en route to Sussex on his way from London. It will take him another hour or so to get there."
"No sign of Ruzhyo?" Howard asked.
"No."
"Could he be at the estate?" "It is possible," Cooper allowed. "We won't have any spysats in position to footprint the area for another ninety minutes. Even so, and even if he is strolling on the grounds, we would be hard-pressed to identify him from that alone. We have, under the aegis of national security, tapped the landlines into the estate, as well as having scanners recording wireless activity."
"Must be nice to be able to get a wiretap that easy," Alex said.
"It was not exactly easy," Cooper said. "But so far, nothing of importance has been forthcoming. And essentially, that is the situation as we now know it."
"Sounds like most of the eggs are in the basket to me. We need to take a little run out there and have a chat with some folks," Fernandez said.
Cooper stared at the holoproj image, then down at the table. She looked uncomfortable, a thing that didn't bother Toni much. Cooper said, "Well, yes, that would be the logical next step."
"But…?" Howard said.
"This is a bit awkward," she said. "We can't just pop out and do that."
"Why not?" Toni asked. "We have a suspect in the computer crime that has rattled half the planet, and we know where he is. I can't believe you don't want to have a few words with him. And with the guy who he works for, too."
Toni saw Julio and John Howard nod in agreement, and Alex also looked ready to hear her answer.
Cooper said, "This is true. However, things aren't done that way here. What if you were in the States and you suddenly had to question a billionaire who was also a powerful political figure? A senator or even the President? You couldn't just knock on his door and demand to come in, could you?"
"No," Alex said. "But if we had enough reason to suspect he was involved in a major crime, in which hundreds of people were killed as a result of something he did or had done, we could get a judge to issue a search or an arrest warrant. We've had our President testify when he didn't want to. Even impeached."
"After weeks of consultation with his lawyers," Cooper said. "And the impeachment was a wrist slap — he wasn't tried and found guilty, was he?"
"The effort was made," Alex said. "No man is above the law."
"Men are not above the law here, either, Alex, but this is a small country, and despite our attempts to bring it into the twenty-first century, still very caste-conscious. Lord Goswell is at the acme of power here. He went to school with the senior members of the House of Lords. He knows the blue blood wealthy, he knows the most powerful barristers and solicitors, and he knows the judges, the high police officials. Every couple of weeks he has tea with the head of the Conservative government. He can get more done with a wave of his hand than Parliament can do in a week. He plays bridge with the king. Getting the wire- and wavetaps were small miracles and were managed only because Goswell didn't know about them. This is not a man upon whose door you knock and demand anything. If you want to go and beard this lion in his den, you need to enter into negotiations with a delicate touch, your hat in hand. It's one thing to call up and tell his head of security you are going to drop round for a chat; it is quite another to demand the same of one of the richest and most powerful men in the country."
Nobody had anything to say about that for a moment.
"Bullshit," Julio said.
Toni suppressed her smile. She had to agree with that one.
"That may be, Sergeant, but I am here to say that His Majesty's government will not be approaching Lord Goswell, save through his attorneys, and cautiously, at that."
"Even if we suspect he's involved in the computer assaults?" Toni said.
Cooper turned to face Toni. "Even if we knew for sure he was responsible and could prove it, Ms. Fiorella. Which we do not. We have no real evidence other than some very thin circu
mstantial material: Bascomb-Coombs, who might or might not be involved himself, works for Lord Goswell and is there visiting him. That doesn't prove much of anything, now does it?"
Toni knew that Cooper was right. But she also knew in her gut that Bascomb-Coombs was tied into this, and Peel and Ruzhyo were somehow connected to it. But what could they do if the local authorities wouldn't let them even talk to the parties?
Alex said, "We can't barge into his lordship's house without an engraved invitation. All right. Can we short-stop Peel?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Can you have your field ops pull Peel over and keep him from getting back to the safety of Goswell's estate?"
Cooper stared at him. "Why would we want to do that?"
Alex said, "Okay, follow my logic here. Let's suppose that Bascomb-Coombs is responsible for the computer disruptions."
"All right, for the moment let's assume that."
"If he is, he has to be doing it with help. According to Jay Gridley, this isn't something you can do cheaply, so somebody substantial has to be backing him."
"Yes. So?"
"Occam's razor. He's working for Goswell. He's at Goswell's house. How many people can fund a multimillion-dollar project and keep it secret? Wouldn't that have to be somebody with a lot of clout? Like somebody who owns lock, stock, and barrel a high-end computer company? That gives us Goswell. And wouldn't Goswell's chief of personal security have to have some idea who Bascomb-Coombs was? Any op worth his pay-check would surely run background checks on people who cozied up to his boss. If it was me watching over a rich man's health, I'd want to know everything about everybody who walked in the door. I'd make it my business to know what visitors had for breakfast, where they ate it, and how big a tip they left."
"You're saying that Bascomb-Coombs is the mad hacker, that Goswell knows about it, and that Peel also knows. Your logical chain is weak, even assuming the first link in it is as solid as steel."
"Stands to reason if they are all sitting around having tea together, doesn't it?"