Point of Control

by L. J. Sellers

  “Crusher.”

  His eyes opened, and she pushed against his chest wound. He moaned in pain.

  “Who is your contact at the FBI?”

  He didn’t answer. She pressed harder. “Tell me! You’re dying and you have nothing to lose.” She might find the information in his phone, and she might not. He could have used a burner that he’d already destroyed.

  “Don’t know.” The words were barely audible.

  “Who are you working with?” Someone with deep pockets had funded that underground lab.

  “Max.” Crusher’s eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.

  At least she had a name. Bailey looked downriver and spotted the lights of the little town. Thank goodness. Now that her adrenaline had stopped pumping, her thoughts turned to the victims. She had to get back up to the mine. Garrett might be injured and still locked in the basement. The thought made her heart hurt. She’d never felt another person’s pain before, and it was unpleasant. Why had she thought she wanted this?

  Suddenly, Crusher’s hand came up, reaching for the side of the boat. Bailey grabbed his wrist. But it wasn’t a gun. He was trying to throw his phone into the river. She pried it from his weak fingers, then secured his hands. He died while she was locking the plastic cuffs. Bailey scrolled through his phone for the last few numbers in the call log. One had a DC area code. Had he been talking to Haywood, the assistant director? Or was Max from the capital too? He’d tried to hide his associates, but she was about to uncover them.

  CHAPTER 47

  Jocelyn parked down the block from Brent Haywood’s house and waited in the car for Ross to arrive. She put in her earbuds and listened to her favorite Stevie Wonder songs to distract her. Was she really going to confront the assistant director of the FBI about his possible involvement in a murder? What if she was wrong? Haywood would be a powerful enemy. Still, she had to ask the questions.

  Ross had found the AD’s address and confirmed that it was within three blocks of the park the murdered tech guy had received calls from. The same burner phone had also made calls to Zach Dimizaro from a corner near FBI headquarters. Haywood might have a good explanation, but it was certainly no coincidence. The assistant director—or someone who worked and lived in the same places he did—had made four calls to Dimizaro in the two weeks before he was murdered. Haywood might have been investigating Dimizaro, but if so, Ross hadn’t found a record of it within the bureau. Her husband had even more to lose from this confrontation.

  She caught the glare of headlights pulling up behind her, waited until she was sure it was Ross, then unlocked her doors. He climbed in and apologized for keeping her waiting. “Something big is going down out in Washington State, and the Critical Incident team is gathering to monitor it. The only information I could get was that the North Korean IT guy might have been found and the Seattle field office had sent out a team.”

  Very good news. “Does that mean Kim Jong-un is backing down from his threat?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not on the CI response team, so I heard everything secondhand.” A note of regret in his voice.

  Jocelyn made an unsettling connection. “Do you suppose the North Korean kidnapping is somehow related to my murder victim? They’re both involved with encryption software.”

  “That would be bizarre.” Ross stared at her open mouthed. “Especially if the AD orchestrated the Lee Nam abduction.” He shook his head. “That would make Kim Jong-un right about the US government being involved.”

  “That is disturbing.” Jocelyn braced herself. “Shall we go find out?” She glanced down the street at Haywood’s house. The garage door was open, and a sedan was backing out. Her pulse quickened. “He’s on the move.”

  From a distance in the dark, she couldn’t be sure who the driver was, but whoever it was had broad shoulders and a large head. “Is that Haywood? Can you tell?” Jocelyn itched to start the engine but made herself wait.

  “Sure looks like him. I wonder where he’s going.”

  Both their jobs were on the line, and they needed to stay objective. “It could be an ice-cream run.”

  “It’s almost midnight, so I don’t think so. Pull out as soon as he passes the first intersection.” Ross slid down in his seat. “Unless he comes this way.”

  She knew how to tail a suspect. But she scrunched down as well and didn’t respond. This was too important. They had to function like a well-oiled law enforcement team, not an estranged married couple.

  Jocelyn counted, giving the sedan time to back into the street, then heard it drive away in the opposite direction. She eased into an upright position, waited for another count of ten, then turned the key. “Maybe he’s going to the park to make another clandestine call.”

  Two blocks later, when the sedan eased off the street, she did the same and killed the engine. She’d been right about the park, and it was the shortest tail job she’d ever done. Excited and nervous, she turned to Ross. “Did you bring a listening device?”

  He grinned. “Of course. And we it call it ears.”

  “Whatever. Just get it ready. We need to get out and get closer.”

  “It’s in my pocket and simply needs to be activated. Let’s go.” Ross quietly opened his door. “If he spots us, we put our heads together and start talking like drunks on their way home.”

  They moved quietly past big dark houses with nothing but porch lights on, walking on front lawns rather than the sidewalk. As they rounded the corner, the park came into view across the street. They spotted Haywood walking up a path toward a cluster of trees in the middle of the park.

  They ducked behind a minivan parked on the street.

  “Are we close enough?” Jocelyn’s knees hurt from squatting.

  “No. Let’s cross over and sit on that first bench.” Ross pulled her up, put an arm around her, and leaned in close. “Let’s do this quickly.”

  Jocelyn wrapped her arm around him too, and they hurried across the street. They were out of Haywood’s line of sight, even if he turned around. When they reached the outer bench and sat, Ross pulled her in for a long kiss.

  “You’re not fooling anybody,” she whispered.

  They were facing the same street they’d just crossed and could no longer see Haywood, who was in the park somewhere behind them. She could only hope he hadn’t spotted them. If he had, he might just keep moving. She glanced over her shoulder. Through the trees, she saw a man sit on a bench near the playground. “He’s in place to make a call now.”

  Ross pulled out the tiny device and turned it on. They heard static for a minute, then muffled footsteps. Someone was approaching Haywood! She glanced over her shoulder again. Another man, also wearing a dark coat, sat on the bench a foot from Haywood.

  Through the ears, they heard Haywood say, “It’s over. Crusher has been compromised, and Seattle agents are moving in. I can’t stop them.”

  “He was reckless,” the other man said. “Kidnapping the North Korean was insane. I had no idea he would do that.”

  “Will the NSA lose its investment?”

  The other man laughed softly. “The bureau will get all his businesses through forfeiture. And whatever the North Korean and the other scientists developed for Crusher will end up with the State Department. The government will control the cell phone market and block encryption one way or another.”

  He was with the National Security Agency? Holy shit! Jocelyn’s chest felt tight. She didn’t know who Crusher was, but members of two government agencies had been collaborating with a kidnapper. Rage and fear gripped her. What was this really about? She met Ross’ eyes. He looked overwhelmed too.

  But they remained silent, listening to the clandestine conversation.

  Charles Max Damper shifted on the hard wooden bench. The mission hadn’t gone as planned, but it wasn’t a total loss. The government’s access to the synthetic would be de
layed by bureaucratic processes, but they would get control of it. They’d lost the opportunity to control the cell phone market through ZoGo, but the war was just getting started. The scientist who’d been killed was unfortunate collateral damage, but they had to keep the big issues at the forefront. Accessing phone conversations remained their best tool in preventing terrorist attacks. As long as they stayed on top of encryption and kept collecting data in motion—regardless of what those idiots in Congress did—the NSA would continue to save thousands and potentially even millions of lives.

  So far, he and his supervisor were in the clear. Crusher had never seen his face, and their only contact had been through the burner phone in his pocket. Once he destroyed it, the connection would be gone. The money the NSA had shifted to ZoGo was untraceable, and his FBI contact could shut down the investigation if needed. Crusher could and likely would die in custody, if he hadn’t already been killed in the raid.

  But unhackable encryption software, like the code he was about to acquire from his associate at the FBI, trumped everything else. The NSA had never intended to let ZoGo embed security in cell phones. That was the primary reason for trying to gain control of the market—to keep it encryption free so they could continue to access every phone conversation and text. But they still needed a copy of this particular airtight encryption’s source code so they could reverse engineer it and devise a way to defeat it. This wasn’t the only security code they were scrambling to defuse—as was so often the way with tech innovation. They were forced to play whack-a-mole with several separate projects popping up nearly simultaneously in the development community. The threat posed by the North Korean’s algorithm was in a class by itself. Without the original code, it might really have been unhackable.

  The version Max had tried to buy hadn’t worked out. The tech guy hadn’t shown up at their scheduled meeting, and Max had learned recently from Haywood that Dimizaro had been killed by a mugger. A thief, who’d taken the damn prototype. Fortunately, Haywood had somehow got his hands on a version. Maybe from the company Dimizaro worked for. The greedy bastard wanted a lot of cash for it, but Haywood knew its value. “Let’s see the flash drive,” Max said.

  “I have a prototype phone, but the code is in there.” Haywood spoke softly, not looking at him. The AD had been on board the mission from the beginning. The FBI, or at least a few individuals within the bureau, wanted to see only encryption-free devices on the market as much as the NSA did. But he and Haywood had been the only ones willing to take the bold steps necessary to ensure that it happened. Haywood reached into his pocket and held out a cell phone. “Do you have the cash?”

  “Yes.” Max pulled a package from under his coat. The five hundred thousand he was paying Haywood was a bargain. He handed the money to the FBI agent and stood to leave. The burner phone rang in his pocket. Was Crusher calling him? Had he escaped the FBI raid? A wave of anxiety rolled over Max, and he didn’t dare answer.

  Ross gestured excitedly. “Go around to the other side,” he whispered. “We’ll box them in, and I’ll call for backup.”

  Jocelyn jumped up, pulled out her weapon, and hurried down the sidewalk. Her soft-soled shoes made little noise on the cement, but still, she was glad to leave it behind, cutting through another group of trees and crossing the grass toward the playground. The men were standing near the bench, but then the shorter guy, the NSA agent, started to walk away.

  Time to go!

  With her weapon raised, she rushed toward them. From the path behind the bench, she saw Ross running at them from the other direction.

  Haywood spun toward her, startled.

  “Hands in the air!” she yelled.

  The NSA agent reached for his weapon.

  “Don’t do it! I’ll shoot you!” Ten feet away now, Jocelyn slowed. “Put your weapons on the ground.”

  Ross was next to the bench now with a gun pointed at Haywood.

  “You’re making a huge mistake,” the NSA agent said. “Walk away and forget you know anything about this.”

  “Put your weapon on the ground!” Jocelyn’s heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through her body. Please don’t have a stroke.

  “We’re high-level government agents,” the NSA man said, “and we have an undercover operation going. Get out of here so you don’t fuck it up.” He still had his gun in his hand, but it was at his side. Haywood had stayed silent, unmoving.

  Ross spoke up. “I know Haywood. You can both explain yourselves at the bureau.”

  A phone rang in the NSA agent’s pocket. For a moment, they all froze, as the low-pitched sound cut through the night.

  “I’ll take that call,” Jocelyn said.

  The NSA man started to bring up his gun. Jocelyn fired two shots. One hit him in the shoulder. He made a startled grunt and dropped his weapon. She rushed in and cuffed him before he could make another move. Ross had done the same with Haywood, who was talking rapidly, spinning a cover-up. Jocelyn’s nerves fired so wildly it was hard to process what he was saying. Two cars pulled up next to the park, and men in suits climbed out. Backup had arrived.

  Jocelyn shoved the NSA agent to the ground and pulled the still-ringing cell phone from his pocket. This could turn out to be important evidence. “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” The woman on the other end was assertive.

  “Detective Larson, Metro Police Department. Who is this?”

  “Agent Bailey, FBI. How do you know Shawn Crusher?” The woman shouted over a loud engine noise.

  FBI? That surprised Jocelyn. The NSA man’s phone was a cheap burner, like the one she expected Ross to find in Haywood’s pocket. “This isn’t my phone,” Jocelyn said. “But I arrested the man it belonged to. He’s an NSA agent. Why are you contacting him?”

  A pause. “This isn’t my phone either. I took it from Shawn Crusher, a kidnapper and killer, and I wanted to see who was calling him from DC.”

  Now it made sense. Bailey was one of the field agents who’d raided Crusher’s Washington operation. Jocelyn briefly explained her end as she pulled the NSA man’s wallet from his pocket and looked for ID. He didn’t have any on him, but Ross and his fellow agents would eventually identify him.

  “You said he was NSA? Not FBI?” Agent Bailey sounded disappointed. “Someone in the bureau leaked information about my investigation.”

  Jocelyn glanced over at the assistant director, now cuffed on the ground like a common criminal. “That would be Brent Haywood, the NSA man’s contact. We just arrested him too.”

  “I knew it. The son of a bitch.” Agent Bailey said it calmly. “Do you know Haywood’s motive?”

  Ross was peeling open a brown package filled with cash. How much had Haywood traded Zach Dimizaro’s life for? Jocelyn shook her head. “Money, what else? I have to go. I’m sure we’ll both catch up on the details later.” Jocelyn hung up, wondering if she would ever hear the whole story. Or would the FBI and NSA find a way to spin this? Good thing she was dating Ross. He might get access to at least some of the truth.

  CHAPTER 48

  Wednesday, March 25, 3:55 p.m., Seattle, Washington

  At the front desk of the Seattle field office, Bailey gave her name and asked for Agent Thorpe, who’d requested to meet her out front. She assumed he had something private to tell her.

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” The clerk made a call and turned back. “Well done up there at the mine, by the way. You’ve made quite an impression with our agents.”

  Bailey couldn’t muster a smile. She was still bone tired from an all-night search of Crusher’s properties. She and the Seattle team had confiscated computers, lab equipment, and everything that could be evidence. By the time she’d made it back there in a sheriff’s car after chasing down Crusher, Dana and Garrett had already been transported out on a medevac helicopter. Dukko’s body had gone with them, leaving only Lee Nam to tell his part of the story.
A Seattle agent had flown out with Nam this morning, headed to Washington, DC, to meet with the president for media photos. Bailey had been summoned to the White House as well, but she wouldn’t leave until tomorrow. She had to see Garrett first.

  Thorpe walked up and shook her hand, not letting go. “I know I said it last night, but I’ll say it again. Thank you for finding my son. When I think about the gas and dynamite that bastard was going to use down there, I know how close I came to losing Garrett.” He squeezed her hand again. “You saved them all.”

  She hadn’t been alone. “Dukko Ki-ha played his part.” The North Korean police officer had found the secret door to the underground prison and had given his life for his countryman. Dukko would go home in a body bag soon. It seemed unfair.

  They took the elevator to a conference room on the second floor and joined a small group of agents, including the two women she’d met at the Thorpes’ house. This was the room where she’d first kissed Garrett. The thought made her happy. Garrett was picking her up after the meeting, and she couldn’t wait to see him.

  After everyone was seated, Agent Thorpe said, “FBI director Robert Palmer will join us in about ten minutes via video, so let’s get everyone up to speed. I’ll go first.” Thorpe summarized both of his trips to the Palisades Mine, concluding with finding his ex-wife unconscious on the lab floor and calling for medical help. Then he added, “We’re still pulling together a timeline for Shawn Crusher’s illegal activities, but his wife is fully cooperating.”

  With Crusher and both of his thugs dead, there was no one to question, no one to confess everything in exchange for a light sentence. Bailey hadn’t heard anything more about the NSA man Crusher had been working with. She looked at Thorpe. “Does Jia know anything about Crusher’s connection to the NSA?”