‘I was picked for the job because of my con-artist past. But if they’d realized, they might’ve killed me on the spot. Only, they didn’t realize. Not until they’d all been arrested.’
Ellen and Scott stared at me, lost.
‘So I bluff again. I buy twenty bars of Ivory bath soap, melt it down. Is there a microwave in this office?’
Scott nodded.
‘Then I meld it to my chest, and affix a phony detonator. One that looks to be activated by the release – not application – of pressure, so that not even a brain-stem shot can stop me from setting it off. Then, when I turn up, but before I get round that kink in the road, I contact Yuelin, and say I’m packing enough plastic explosives to blow the house to kingdom-come from up to a quarter-mile away, so she better play ball.’
‘She’ll know it’s bullshit. A basic bomb vest is one thing, but where the hell would you have found that quantity of plastic explosives at that short notice?’
‘She may well think it’s bullshit. But so long as she doesn’t know for sure, she won’t dare shoot.’
Scott groaned. ‘You’re going to do this, aren’t you?’
I nodded. ‘You in, Ellen?’
She grinned. ‘Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain.’
I smiled back.
‘Would you look up the nearest Wal-Mart?’
Scott – his fingers shaking – typed it into Google. There was one round the corner.
‘I’ll head there now.’
I left the building without delay, the thought foremost in my mind that I had to give Yuelin as little time as possible to cook up some counter gambit. Once there, I purchased the soap, a white shirt, a jacket, a rubber hand pump, and a Swiss army knife. Within five minutes, I was back and got to work in the office’s kitchen unit.
I put the bars of soap in the microwave, two at a time, and each pair expanded, so that they filled the microwave with a hot, glossy-white mush. I ripped off my t-shirt, and melded the mush to my skin. I let it cool and set. And ten minutes down the line, my torso was covered in a material that looked uncannily like C4 plastic explosives. And if it had been C4, it would be enough to take out not only the building I was in, but also the three to either side, no problem at all.
Then I took a rubber hand pump, affixed one side of a metal cable to the pump, and embedded the other in the soap – after which, I put on the new shirt and threaded the wire through my sleeve, so the pump was in my left hand.
‘Okay, Ellen and I will head there now, while Scott – you interrogate Hao,’ I said to the pair, who’d been watching my progress. ‘We’ll bring two walkie-talkies – one on Yuelin’s frequency, the other on the friendly frequency; two Walthers; two full extra magazines; and the $2,000 from the guys in LA and my phony credit card, just in case. We’ll leave everything else here.’
Ellen nodded.
‘Scott, you have the USB stick. If we can supplement that with a recorded confession from Hao that he’s been blackmailed by Yuelin, we may have enough to nail her. Of course, he may not know who’s been blackmailing him. But since the tasks he’s done for her are extensive and he’s Chinese, she may well’ve confided in him. You up to that?’
He made a nervous double-blink. ‘Yes. I’ve got the camcorder.’
I nodded. Then I took up Ellen’s walkie-talkie which was still on our friendly frequency, and pressed the button.
‘Vann, how are things?’
‘Busy as hell here,’ he replied instantly. ‘On the plus side, it means I’m under the radar. On the down side, an unauthorized entry would be impossible without someone noticing. So in short: if the attack gets underway, I might be able to break in and act solo. But the moment I emerge from the Consulate, I’ll be arrested.’
‘You willing to pay that price?’
‘If it means saving lives, then yes, of course. Besides, I was planning to break into the Chinese consulate before any of this happened, so it’s really no skin off my teeth.’ He paused. ‘I take it the hostage-taking went off without a hitch?’
‘I’ve got them. I’m now heading to trade Minxin for the detonator, in a phony C4 vest, made of soap, which I’m hoping will stop Yuelin putting a bullet in my head.’
A long pause. Then:
‘Probably a good time to admit that my gun was really just my fingers pressed up against the inside of my jacket this whole time,’ Vann said.
He was trying to take the edge off, but the heaviness in his tone was plain. And before I could answer, he added:
‘If anyone can convince someone a load of soap will take down a building, it’s you.’
‘Thanks, Vann. My talkie’s on Yuelin’s frequency; but we’re gonna keep a second one with us on the friendly frequency, so update us immediately if there’s any sign of fire. Obviously, if we’re at the trade-off, and you contact us, Yuelin will hear, too. But that’s fine. If she double crosses us, I want her to know we know…’
‘No problem, Saul. I’ll keep you in the loop.’
I lowered the talkie, and looked at Ellen.
‘Let’s do this.’
Chapter 25
Sunday, December 12, 10:56 a.m. – 169 Stillman Street, San Francisco.
Scott Brendan clutched the camcorder tight. He could do this. He’d received interrogation training at the FBI Academy, so he could do this.
Hao was now sitting opposite to him, tied to his chair. Scott carefully studied Hao’s long, sneering face. Then, suddenly, a burst of resentment shot through him. Resentment that he’d been dragged into all this; resentment that he’d been thrown in at the deep end.
A moment later, he pulled himself together, and broke the silence:
‘Hao Ting, allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Scott Brendan.’
Hao said nothing.
Scott tensed his right forearm to stop it shaking. Aside from the fact he didn’t want to look nervous, his shakes were compromising his recording.
‘So here’s the deal, Hao. We know you’ve been blackmailed, that much is clear. In fact, we know a good deal. But I would be interested to hear your side of the story.’
Hao sneered. ‘You don’t know shit.’
Scott continued to study him. Hao had no reason to believe they had any dirt on him – the blackmail theory could’ve been pure deduction. And Scott knew that if he didn’t reveal what they knew about him, Hao wasn’t gonna bring it up any time soon.
Scott forced a smile. ‘We happen to know, Hao, that you have been extensively involved in the production and distribution of child pornography.’
Hao’s mouth involuntarily dropped. ‘How did—’ He cut himself short. ‘Who the hell are you people? Do you have any idea what you’re dealing with?’
Scott, though feeling far from nonchalant, waved a nonchalant hand. ‘You’re a piece of shit, Hao. But you’re just a cog in something bigger. And we both know what went down these past few hours. You were told to orchestrate this lock-in; so you created a situation in which the protestors thought they’d found a way past the consulate’s defenses, but in fact you’d intentionally let down the defenses, and lured them in. And you knew, from the start, that the plan was to slaughter every last one of them.’
Hao shot Scott daggers. He knew he’d been pegged. Scott continued:
‘Look, if you keep quiet, you’ll be doing your blackmailers a favor, and they’ll just kill you the moment they get a chance, because their deniability is at stake with you in our hands. So since the cat’s out of the bag, you might as well sell them down the river. That way, you’ll at least receive merciful treatment from us.’
Hao tensed his jaw. ‘Fine, it’s true. It was an ultimatum. Dance to their tune, or have my activities exposed to the world. So I danced.’
Scott nodded. This was a breakthrough. But he needed to push further. There were still two big unknowns. Did Hao know who’d been blackmailing him? And did he realize that the Dark Net had been de-anonymized?
‘Hao, do you have any idea who these people
blackmailing you are?’
Hao’s reaction surprised him: he broke into an uproarious laugh.
‘I know exactly who’s blackmailing me. Hardened soldiers radicalized by years of propaganda and indoctrination. The real question is, do you have any idea? Do you have the slightest clue how motivated they are? How far their influence extends?’
Scott was, of course, aware that their influence was profound. But it was unnerving to hear it vocalized like that. And though he tried his best to remain composed, he felt himself flinch.
Hao laughed again at Scott’s reaction.
Scott felt back-footed, but he was a professional; so he took a moment to collect himself, then said calmly:
‘Alright then, just how far does their influence extend?’
Hao’s face went serious again: ‘I’m not sure how they’ve done it, but they’ve clearly managed to find some loophole in the Dark Net – and this has undoubtedly allowed them to put a number of people under their thumb. And while it’s very hard to quantify this influence, I believe it’s considerable.
‘At any rate, I know for certain that there is at least one other very powerful person under their influence – a high-up member of the Secret Service’s San Francisco Field Office. A member, I believe, with Command Center status.’
Scott looked hard at Hao. This was a huge thing to suggest. When someone in the Secret Service’s care visits anywhere in America, they bring with them a dedicated team from DC – and the agents on the ground, accompanying this individual, are all from this team. But behind the scenes, orchestrating the visit, are agents sequestered away in the Command Center – usually a hotel room or apartment near the site of the visit – half of whom are drawn from this permanent DC team, and half drawn from the senior ranks at the local Field Office. And the integrity of the Command Center is, unsurprisingly, considered sacrosanct – because if it were to become compromised, if a third party were to put it under threat, then the individual in the Service’s care would be compromised, too.
Indeed, extensive efforts are made to ensure the safety of the Command Centre; to ensure no third party can find it nor contact those inside. Its location is kept secret. And the only lines of communication in and out are a secure phone line to the nearest Secret Service Field Office and radio links with the agents on the ground. All Command Center agents are frisked prior to entry to ensure they’re carrying no other communicative devices.
So having a member of the Command Center under the thumb was a big deal.
Hao went on:
‘I’m not only telling you this because I’m fucked. I’m also telling you this because I reckon this agent’s already out of contact, and so it’s too late to do anything about it. For one thing, I got the strong impression that Yuelin’s plans would reach their conclusion this weekend. For another, agents – as you probably know – hole themselves up in the Command Center hours before a visit is set to take place; so even if Yuelin’s plan isn’t set to happen for a little while, that doesn’t mean you can contact this guy.
‘And while you might think you can just tip off the Secret Service Field Office or Headquarters, it’s not that simple. After all, Yuelin may have others under her control. In fact, given what I’ve seen so far, she almost certainly does. And this means even evidence of my online activity – which I’m assuming you have – combined with this confession most likely won’t help you. Because if you tip off the Service, then at best, your tip will be delayed or suppressed; and at worst, it’ll simply cause Yuelin to adapt and accelerate her plot.’
Scott gripped the underside of his seat with his free hand. It was hitting home: this was heavy stuff. The Secret Service only looks after a handful of people: the President; the Vice-President; their families; past presidents, and their families; and presidential nominees. And a plot against any one of those individuals would be cataclysmic.
‘But how do you know this? How do you know she has a Command Center individual under her thumb?’ said Scott, with an air of increasing desperation.
Hao smiled.
‘Two months ago, Yuelin made me call the San Fran Secret Service Field Office and leave a tip. A tip suggesting one of their highest-ranking agents was being blackmailed. A month-long investigation ensued, but they found nothing untoward. This was almost certainly because Yuelin hadn’t yet made contact with the man now under her control. But the tactic was genius, since now the Service is lingering under a false sense of security; now, if a tip came in saying the same thing, even those not under Yuelin’s thumb would likely dismiss it.
‘That was my first clue she had a high-ranker under her control. The second clue came only a few hours ago, when Yuelin explicitly told me she had an individual with Command Center Status on side. I’m not sure how much she usually confides in her victims; but the fact I’m Chinese probably loosened her lips.’
Scott felt suddenly winded. Hao was of course right – tipping off was an enormous risk. The truth was, even under normal circumstances, a tip-off can fall short. Scott remembered how, five weeks before 9/11, FBI Agent Ken William had left an urgent tip with FBI headquarters that there was a team of al-Qaeda acolytes attending US flight schools. And this hadn’t just been a tip: it had been a mass of incriminating evidence. But even though the information went straight to the top, straight to the folk who could take immediate action, it was ignored due to sheer incredulity.
But to make matters a whole lot worse, these were not normal circumstances: as Hao pointed out, Yuelin had people on the inside. And in fact Hao didn’t know the half of it; didn’t realize Yuelin had cracked TOR, and thus her influence was huge. And so, Scott thought with a sinking heart, Hao was right: if he tipped off the Secret Service, the fact it may end up suppressed or ignored was the least of his worries. Because more likely, word would get back to Yuelin, and she’d accelerate whatever she had planned.
Scott abruptly became aware that Hao was talking again:
‘…and even if you were able to get the evidence you have against me to someone you can trust, it would take them days to verify it. So, even though you may be able to prove Yuelin was behind everything, by the time you do so, not only will it be too late to thwart her, it’ll also be too late to hold her to account. I reckon she and her team will be leaving the country very soon – in the next forty-eight hours – using the false paperwork they flew in on.’
Scott gave an absent nod, turned off the camcorder, and set it aside. He then started pacing.
The image of the Command Center cropped up in his mind. He could see the busy room, full of maybe fifteen agents. The single landline on a table. The radio-equipment. The computers, connected to Secret Service databases, but severed from the wider world…
And among those fifteen agents, one with a terrible secret…
Options fizzed through Scott’s mind. Then, all at once, he pulled out the walkie-talkie, set it to the friendly frequency, and hovered his finger over the button…
Saul, Ellen and Minxin had left about twenty minutes ago, and Half Moon Bay was about forty minutes away. Scott pictured the situation in the car: Saul at the wheel; Ellen and Minxin in the back, Ellen holding a gun to Minxin’s head. Scott imagined his voice filling the car.
He lowered the talkie, turned back to Hao.
‘You’ve been communicating with Yuelin?’
Hao nodded.
‘On what frequency?’
Hao raised an eyebrow.
‘Tell me the frequency.’
Hao shrugged. ‘32.2MHz.’
‘And that’s your private frequency with Yuelin?’
‘Yes. She’s been very careful: every correspondent gets their own frequency.’
Scott nodded. He then stepped into the hallway, closed the door, and, with his fingers shaking, tweaked the talkie’s frequency to 32.2MHz.
Then he pressed the button.
‘Yuelin Lie? This is former FBI Agent Scott Brendan. I have a proposition.’
A long silence. Then:
‘I’m listening.’ A hard-edged, bone-trembling voice.
Scott took a deep breath.
‘I’m at a location in San Francisco with Hao Ting, and I’ve just recorded a video in which Ting has admitted that you blackmailed him into setting up the protest at the Consulate. So here’s what I’m proposing. I give you the location Ting’s being held, which will allow you to re-capture him, and which if you fail to do so during your rendezvous, will also let you take out Saul, since he’ll almost certainly head here afterwards. But in return, you must give me the technology to undermine TOR…
‘Now, I’m aware that you may not want to hand over the technology until your plans have come to their conclusion. So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take the recording of his confession which is on a DVD, and put it in a safe place. You send a man to meet me somewhere in San Fran in thirty minutes – how about the south-east corner of Portsmouth Square at exactly 11:35? When I meet your man, I’ll disclose the location Hao’s being held, which’ll give you time to pick him up, and set up an ambush. Then your man will take me to a safe place to wait things out; a place Saul can’t find me. I’d suggest the house Lawrence Kelden was living in when you had him working for your team, since I know Saul does not know where that is. Then, once your plan winds up, we do a swap: the DVD for the technology. I’m assuming you’re storing it on a portable hard-drive.’
Scott paused. His heart beat wildly.
‘Why are you doing this?’ The tone was curious.
Scott felt the emotions rise in his neck. He hissed:
‘Three years ago, Saul Marshall walked into my life, and he fucked it. Because of him, I lost everything: my career went down the drain, and I had to up stakes and move my whole life. And now that motherfucker’s turned up again, and all of a sudden, my life’s back in the gutter. I’m sick of it.
‘But we know you have technology to crack TOR: we chanced on a USB stick that Lawrence made months ago containing incriminating evidence against five Californian elites – which proved you have that capability, and which I’ll also hand over in the trade. And if I can get my hands on that technology, everything changes for me. The FBI and NSA will be begging to have me back. I’ll be a hero. And I can finally get my life back…
Never Forget Page 18