Should a cyber-attack be simultaneously launched against our entire national electric grid system, destroying components along the way, it would leave our military defenses and communications ineffective in time of emergency or war. Vast regions of the United States, perhaps even a majority of the country, could lay in darkness for weeks, even months. It would, in effect, turn the clock back to the nineteenth century.
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50
ANKARA
TURKEY
7:36 A.M. EET
Jeff opened his eyes and stretched in the driver’s seat. It had been cold overnight and the morning was still chilly. The sun had been up for nearly an hour but they were parked in shadows, holding the car in twilight. He’d been so worn out he’d nodded off when he should have been watching. No police had knocked on the window during the night, and in the dark the red Fiat had not attracted notice. Other cars were parked just off the busy road behind him.
He was at the broadened entrance to an old and narrow street, mostly dirt, though ancient cobblestone sections still existed, exhausted from centuries of use. The street was coming alive as workers emerged from their apartments and set out for their jobs. Traffic on the road was picking up.
He twisted and looked behind him. Daryl was sound asleep. She needed it. The Fiat might be small by American standards but the area behind the two front seats was open and flat, just right for a tight bed. He didn’t know how she’d managed the events of these last few days and maintained her sanity. By most standards she should be in a hospital right now. But except for the cut on her hand and the dark circles about her eyes, she seemed remarkably sound. He was surprised by the feeling of relief that overwhelmed him as he watched her, to the point that he felt a knot in his throat.
Jeff turned forward and looked back at the front door he’d been watching through the night. Saliha would likely be leaving soon, he thought. He could only guess how she planned to reach Iran. Driving was the most obvious but it was a long haul to the border and he had no idea of the condition of the highways. Someone might take her or she could go alone.
“Wake up,” he said gently. “Need you bright and alert.”
Daryl moaned, then rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”
“Only a little. She’s still there. No harm done.”
“You say. Maybe she already left.”
“We’ll know pretty soon. You need to get ready.”
They’d agreed the approach was best made by Daryl, woman to woman. It had worked with the roommate. Perhaps if Saliha knew what she was taking she might be persuaded to give it up. She was a Turk. It seemed unlikely to them that she’d want neighboring Iran to have a nuclear bomb. Of course, she could be an Islamist at heart and might see it as a weapon for all Muslims, though given the history between Turkey and Iran Jeff couldn’t see it. And, frankly, she’d not seemed political to Jeff in the time he’d been with her, just a girlfriend doing a favor for some extra cash and a chance to visit her family.
And he knew that Saliha really didn’t want to make this trip. It occurred to Jeff they might just offer her money. If that was why she was doing it, perhaps they could just buy her off. But however it worked out, it was up to Daryl to make the pitch.
She opened the rear doors and climbed out, straightening her hair and clothing as she did. She rubbed her arms against the cold. She had a bottle of water she used to wash her face, then went to the mirror away from the street and worked on her hair for a long minute. She unwrapped a toothbrush and brushed her teeth, spitting afterward into the gutter. She looked at Jeff and smiled brightly. “All set.”
She climbed into the passenger seat, dug into the bag she’d bought in Prague, and handed over a candy bar and fresh bottle of water. “Breakfast.”
Jeff peeled off the wrapper and as he was taking his first bite, the door opened and out stepped a girl of about eleven. Another girl, perhaps a year older, came out holding the hand of a boy, around eight years old. Then there she was, standing in the doorway, talking to a woman dressed in black.
Saliha was outfitted for a trip, wearing denims and a light blue jacket, with a tan travel bag hanging from her shoulder. Her dark hair was held in place with a dark blue band. She and the older woman embraced, then Saliha leaned over and gave each child a long hug in turn.
She stepped away with a determined smile, gave them all a farewell wave, then set off down the street away from Jeff and Daryl. Jeff started the Fiat, then slipped the car into gear, remaining in first gear as he drove slowly over the bumpy road, more comfortable with the stick shift now though not yet proficient.
“Stop before you get to her,” Daryl cautioned. “I’ll get out and catch up with her on foot. Stay back or you might frighten her.”
The street was suddenly very busy as more workers joined by young uniformed students poured out of the apartments. The street narrowed. A man cursed Jeff, raising his fist.
“What’s that for?” he asked nervously. Was this a one-way street?
“Just a little closer, then stop.” Daryl was silent, then said, “I think this street’s closed to cars. Look around. This is the only one.”
Jeff glanced in the rearview mirror, then ahead. She was right. Theirs was the only car. He braked to a stop and Daryl leaped out without a word. Jeff stayed as she briskly walked after Saliha. An older man wearing a dirty watch cap pounded on the driver window, shouting at him in Turkish.
Jeff looked at him and grinned. “Sorry. I’ll only be a minute.” He held up a finger as he watched Daryl closely. The man pounded again. Jeff searched for a way off the street. The shouting man was gesturing for Jeff to back up and he could see no suitable side street forward. A crowd was gathering, curious for now but if it turned ugly he was concerned that the noise would draw Saliha’s attention and that it would block his view of events. He unrolled the window and killed the engine. “I don’t speak Turkish. I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Anyone speak English?”
“American?” the man shouted. “American?” Jeff nodded, uncertain what was going to happen next. The man turned and shouted to the gathered crowd. His face contorted as he looked back and shouted, “Go away! Go back! Go to America!” He pushed on the door. Others put their hands on the Fiat and began rocking it with increasing agitation.
Jeff started the engine, put the car in gear, and slowly began backing up, hoping he didn’t run over anyone, now unable to watch Daryl.
Saliha heard the noise behind her but didn’t turn around. Something was always happening on this street. She wished her family lived somewhere else but this had been the first house of her parents after their marriage and her mother refused to consider leaving.
She glanced at her watch. She’d get to the rental agency just after it opened. With a good day driving she’d cross the border by sunset. She’d never wanted something to be over before the way she wanted this trip to end.
“Saliha!” she heard and turned to see who was just behind her. It was a tall, very pretty woman with blond hair. There was a bandage on one hand. “Just a minute. We need to talk.”
“What do you want?” Saliha said, not stopping.
Daryl hurried to catch up and started walking beside her. “My name is Daryl. You helped my husband find me. He got there in time and rescued me. I want to thank you.”
Saliha stopped. “You? You are the wife?” She looked at her closely. “Did Ahmed truly kidnap you?”
“Yes, in Geneva, with two other men. When I fought with the man to get away, I was cut.” Daryl held up her hand. “We need to talk. It will only take a minute.”
Saliha stepped away quickly. She had no idea what to make of this. “I must go.” Daryl ran up beside her. “How did you get here?” Saliha demanded. “How did you find me?”
“Ahmed told us your name and gave us the information.”
“Ahmed? I don’t think he would do that.”
Daryl smiled. “I think my
husband persuaded him.”
Saliha laughed harshly. “I can believe that. Did he kill him?”
“Of course not.”
Saliha looked at her with suspicion. “You are married to a very dangerous man, I think.” She looked at her good hand. “Why don’t you wear a wedding ring?”
“I . . . well, actually we live together. We’re like husband and wife.” Saliha looked at her skeptically. “You mustn’t make this trip,” Daryl persisted. “You’re putting a great many lives at risk.”
Saliha eyed Daryl suspiciously. “What do you know about a trip?”
“You told Jeff you were going on one, remember? I know you’re going to Iran. I know you’re taking something for Ahmed, something very bad.”
Saliha stopped herself from looking at her purse where the thumb drive was. “What are you talking about?”
How to explain it? Daryl thought. What words to use? “The thumb drive, it has code on it. It’s like a military weapon used against computers.”
“You mean it attacks computers? Like a virus or something?”
“Yes.” That wasn’t the truth but what was really happening was too complicated to explain on an increasingly busy street.
The noise down the street was suddenly very loud and a car honked. Saliha looked up. “Cars are not supposed to drive there,” she said. “Everyone knows that.” Daryl looked back with concern. “Your husband, he is in that car?” Saliha asked.
“Yes, we didn’t know about the street.” She looked back toward the crowd. “I think they’re mad at him.” Before she could say anything more Saliha was running from her, just as fast she could go. Daryl hesitated, torn between what was happening to Jeff and getting the thumb drive. She broke into a run herself, pursuing Saliha just as fast as she could.
Jeff had killed the engine twice. Backing up in such a small area with a crowd screaming at him and rocking the car, all the while trying to work the clutch and gas, keep the Fiat straight, and not hurt anyone was proving daunting. The reverse gear was higher than the first forward gear and it was giving him lots of trouble.
He kept moving backward, working at staying in the street, moving slow enough so as not to run over anyone. Fortunately the street began to widen. He backed beyond the apartment he’d been watching and as he neared the broad area beside the roadway he’d driven up on, the crowd came to a stop, including the man who’d pounded on his window and started it all. They were satisfied they’d driven him from their neighborhood.
Jeff reached the road, stopped, changed gears, then merged into busy morning traffic to put some distance between himself and the crowd. As soon as he could, he turned onto a quieter street and pulled over. He took out his phone and called Daryl.
The phone rang and rang, and finally rolled over to her new voice mail. “Call me,” he said, then disconnected.
Next, he checked Daryl’s location using their app. She should be with Saliha. He saw the location. He glanced around, then made a sharp U-turn and continued in the direction he’d been going. As soon as he found a major street turning right he’d go with it.
It was nearly six in the morning when Ahmed and Hamid landed in Ankara. The passengers were surly and in a rush, and the car rental agencies were either unmanned or overwhelmed. They’d finally rented a black Korean car, then driven toward the city.
“Are you certain she stays with her mother?” Hamid asked.
“She always stays with her mother.”
Hamid had given him a tight smile. “You mean, that’s what she tells you. For all you know, she has an old boyfriend here. You should not assume things, Ahmed. You were taught that, remember?”
Saliha? With a boyfriend? It was impossible. Of course, he’d had his afternoons with others but she wasn’t that kind of woman, he was certain.
As they reached the outskirts of Ankara, Hamid made a call, then directed Ahmed to drive to a small café. He told him to wait while he went inside. Two minutes later, he climbed back in the car carrying a small gray travel bag.
Ahmed was driving while Hamid gave him directions from the navigation system. Even then, the obscure street was difficult to locate. “What is that?” Ahmed asked as they finally approached it. There was a street disturbance just ahead. A red car was lurching onto the road, its driver having some difficulty before he joined the traffic and drove away.
“This is the street,” Hamid said. Ahmed turned, pulled to the side, and stopped. “It should be right here.” Hamid climbed out of the car. Ahmed joined him, careful to lock up. The men set off down the street, looking for the address.
Hamid was a legend in the VEVAK. He’d been in charge of European operations for more than a decade and had been responsible for turning it into one of the most professional organizations on the continent. He’d removed the fanatics, brought in cooler heads, and exercised considerable discretion in selection of operations. His preference, it seemed to Ahmed, was the gathering of information. Overt operations were quite restricted.
No one knew his base of operations or his cover. Ahmed had heard rumors that he was ruthless in suppressing opposition within the Iranian ex-patriot community in Europe. From Ahmed’s perspective, the most disturbing aspect of his tenure was his absolute ruthlessness when it came to failure. He was a field man, fortunately, so he was not without understanding, but if an agent truly made a mess of it, there was no homecoming.
Two things about his predicament concerned Ahmed. The first was that his latest operation had been a botch almost from the start. Though they’d successfully taken the couple, both of them had managed to escape. Karim was dead at the hands of a woman. Ali had successfully killed the UNOG official but it had cost him his life. That part of the operation, he suspected, was compelled by the man’s escape. No, this had been a mess from the beginning.
Karim’s body had surely been discovered by this time. The Prague police would be looking for witnesses and suspects. They’d certainly have the American couple’s description, and that of the two Chinese men. Worse, someone might remember Ahmed or, despite his specific instructions, there might be a link in Karim’s apartment to him.
No, he’d have to assume everyone in Prague was burned. He’d have to relocate, move the other two agents there. And all this would have to happen immediately. He might even be too hot to remain in Europe. He’d tried to think of a way to raise the subject with Hamid but it would only make matters worse. The man had not wanted to talk. He’d done his job with an absolute minimum of words.
Then there was the other part of this that more than troubled Ahmed; it terrified him. The fact that Hamid was here at all.
“This one,” Ahmed said, glancing at Hamid for approval.
When he hesitated, Hamid said, “Go ahead. We haven’t much time.”
Ahmed knocked and a moment later Saliha’s mother answered the door. “Evet?” Yes?
Ahmed smiled and spoke in English as he knew no Turkish. “I am Ahmed, from Prague. Is Saliha here?” He smiled.
Hamid didn’t wait for a reply. He simply walked into the apartment, and pressed the woman back with his hand, sudden fear in her eyes. “Close the door,” Hamid ordered, glancing over at the three children. “This won’t take long.”
The streets wandered in ways that Jeff found impossible. On the cell phone, the way from here to there seemed straightforward but there were any number of streets not on the screen and a great many of those turned out to be one-way. He was getting better with the clutch and gears but that was small consolation.
Then his phone rang. “Yes?”
“She ran. I lost her for a while but I finally found her. She’s at a car rental agency. I’m across the street watching her. Can you get to me? I’ll try and talk to her again when she comes out. You need to stay back, though. She’s scared to death of you. I think she suspects you killed Ahmed.”
“What?”
“Hurry.” Daryl disconnected.
Jeff checked her cell location again. She was close and if he
could just find a street that connected he’d be there in a flash. The problem was that traffic was getting worse by the minute. The vehicles mostly crawled with short spurts of modest speed. Pedestrians treated the roadway as a parking lot, weaving through the intermittently stopped and moving cars with casual indifference.
Most surprising, drivers seemed to have no sense that they were not alone on the street. Cars abruptly stopped while the driver looked over his shoulder to wait for an opening so he could change lanes, backing traffic behind him. Horns blared constantly and fists were waved through open windows. Though there was surely some measure of order to it, the streets looked chaotic to Jeff.
He moved his way to the right, searching again for a significant street that headed toward Daryl’s location. The car behind him honked. There was a slight opening and Jeff moved toward it only to see the car off his right rear speed up to block him in. Jeff turned on the blinker, then steadily moved to the right. The other car could give way or they’d collide.
A moment later he felt the crunch.
They knew the pretty woman in the rental office. One of the young men was flirting with her and she flirted back briefly while indicating she was in a hurry. Daryl had been lucky to find Saliha after losing her in the busy streets. She’d worked systematically on the assumption she would continue in the same general direction. She’d spotted the rental agency and seen the dark-haired woman at the counter, glancing nervously over her shoulder every few seconds. Daryl had remained across the street, standing in the morning shadows.
Saliha emerged with the attentive young man, clutching papers. He smiled as he talked, leading her along the sidewalk. They turned up a driveway and though the rental cars weren’t apparent from her location, Daryl was certain they were parked back there. She looked left, then right, then left, then right. Finally, she stepped onto the street and started weaving through the busy traffic the way she’d seen other pedestrians do.
Trojan Horse Page 29