She hustled back to the computer and found that the cracker had accomplished its purpose in an astonishingly short twenty-six minutes. The only way that could have happened, Lee knew, was that they had struck pay dirt with the priority expressions. She just needed to wait a few short moments for the computer to complete the remainder of its start-up sequencing. A few seconds later, she had Wang and Qi back on the line, as they launched into a methodical search of the operating system.
Qi’s presence became just as critical during the search as it had been in setting up the password cracker. The consensus opinion of Wang and Qi was that the system was very similar to western-based open-source operating systems, except that there were a few quirks in the underlying programming logic and in the commands language that presented a few unexpected challenges. Some of these quirks were due simply to the differences between the English language and Mandarin, while others seemed to result from the Chinese “way of thinking,” whatever that meant.
Lee let Wang and Qi do most of the work, as she simply communicated what she saw on the screen and executed their commands. Lee was not used to typing in Chinese. She wasn’t used to the locations of the Chinese characters on the keyboard, which slowed her typing to a crawl. Fifty-four minutes later, they stumbled onto some media software that seemed to have some active communications links embedded in it. She clicked on a few of these links and, a few moments later, she became startled at the sudden sound of a human voice. Her first instinct was a fight or flight response to the threat that someone had entered into the cabin. She realized, to her relief, that the voice was coming from somewhere below and she suspected she had managed to feed the monitors. She hustled down the ladder, where she confirmed that the monitors were now showing live images. On the displays were people who appeared to be held in captivity.
Lee slid into the chair, intently studying the feeds. The images were identical in that each person was alone and being held in a small room with limited furnishings. All told, there were two men and a woman. The woman, in particular, Lee was certain she had met in person during her time working on Project Magus. She fought to place a name to the face, but she could not remember. The voice she had heard was coming from the female, a brunette, who was sitting on a floor, hugging herself, rocking her torso back and forth, and singing to herself softly. Lee could not understand much of the lyrics, because they were being sung in Spanish, but the pacing and pitch of the song made her think that it was a rather emotional and elegant piece. Her voice, though soft, was emanating quite loudly, hauntingly, from the two speakers. After a few seconds, the woman stopped singing, wiped her red eyes with the sleeve of a polyester runner’s jacket, mumbled something softly to herself, and then began singing and rocking again. Lee found a knob on one of the speakers and turned the volume down, before hurrying back up the ladder.
“Lead us on,” Wang said, once she’d settled back into the chair at the main desk. “Where to next?”
Sometime later, Lee said, “There’s a file labeled as ‘Black Dragon’ that’s screaming to be opened.” Lee brought up a full listing of the files contained in the folder, and began opening them one by one. These files consisted of a miscellaneous collection of information, everything from copies of receipts from the vendors that supplied equipment used for an “Operation Black Dragon,” to names of various personnel participating in the operations, to detailed plans of the operation itself. Lee noted that there appeared to be a mix of civilian and military personnel involved in Operation Black Dragon. The plans of the operation, which were dated from three years prior, included timelines, schematics in the form of schedules and diagrams, and other schematics written out in narrative form. It even included performance reviews for a few of the military participants.
Lee made a critical connection when they discovered a string of emails that had been copied into a text editing document and saved to the folder. This gave Wang and Qi the name of an email application, which they were then able to call up. Not only were they able to call up the software, but they also discovered a live session containing emails retained from up to two weeks prior. Within these emails, Lee discovered multiple references by name to Brooklyn Capital Management.
“I found it!” Lee exclaimed. She had to blink multiple times through her fatigue in order to verify what she was reading.
The sound of someone clearing a throat came through the phone. “Ahem, we found it,” Wang said.
“Yes, of course, Kep. We found it.” Lee held her arms in front of her to confirm that she was shaking from the combination of exhilaration and sleep deprivation.
“I need to try and get as much of this into my phone as possible,” Lee said. She glanced again at the clock on her phone. 3:48 a.m. As Lee worked herself through more of the emails, she stumbled upon a reference by street to where one of the Brooklyn captives was being held or, at the least, had been held at the time the email was written, which was three days prior. Forty minutes later, after running a search for the name of one of the civilian mid-level managers of the organization, a man who seemed to answer directly to Zhang within the organizational hierarchy, she discovered three pdf documents which, by their contents, appeared to be a contracts of sale for real estate within the state of New York. The street addresses in these documents were New York City addresses and matched the streets of the locations where the Brooklyn captives were being held that Lee had discovered earlier within the emails.
A while later, Wang’s tinny voice said, “It’s five in the morning, Lyn. Probably time to think about getting out of there, don’t you think?”
Lee glanced at her watch again. 5:02 a.m. “I just want to do one more thing. I want to revisit that media software we were looking at earlier. The one that had the links to the video monitors.” As she had browsed the software earlier, she thought she had seen the letters “FBI.” Now, she wanted to try and find out whether or not this was a reference to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Twenty minutes later, her search led her to a wholly separate stream of instant messages coming from an application within the media software.
“These are coming from a military server, guys,” Lee said. “And they’re being updated in real-time.”
“What are they saying?” Wang said.
“Hold on. I’m still trying to figure that out.”
Wang said, “How many participants in the conversation? How are they identifying themselves?”
Lee examined the messages as they appeared on her screen in red Mandarin characters. “There are three of them, but they aren’t identified by name. It’s a numerical code.”
“How many digits?” Qi asked.
“Seven,” Lee replied.
“Doesn’t mean anything to me,” Qi said. “Chinese resident ID numbers are eighteen digits long. It could be an abbreviated version of this.”
“Or a P.L.A. number?” Pan-Ik asked.
“I think that’s possible,” Qi said. “I’ve seen P.L.A. numbers that are seven digits, but they may be obsolete by now.”
“I think these messages are dispatches from different locations,” Lee said. “They are in a city somewhere in China. The messengers are providing addresses.”
“Keep going,” Wang said.
Lee continued. “They are providing status updates on someone, as though they are trailing somebody. But the addresses are from someplace in China.”
Lee shrugged. It wasn’t relevant to her search. She was about to move on in her search when another message flashed. Embedded within the message, in neon green English letters, were the acronym “FBI” and a name, Terry Phong. She did not mention this to Wang and Qi. Lee examined a few more of the messages as they flashed on her screen, but there was no more mention of the FBI, nor of a Terry Phong. Who was Terry Phong? Lee ran a search of the entire operating system for Terry Phong. The list appeared on the monitor screen, glowing against an image of herself as she studied a variety of documents. She felt she had made incredible progress with th
e information she had obtained since breaking into the cabin. She let a crooked smile creep across her face. As her doppelganger returned the smile, movement flashed behind it. In the monitor, a pair of hands appeared in front of her reflection. She felt something tighten around her own throat and, instinctively, she grabbed for the knife, but it was too far out of the way. In her desperation, she missed the knife and grabbed her phone instead. She tried to lean forward, but the man behind her utilized the noose around her neck to yank her back into the chair. As the noose began to tighten, she rose in a sudden movement and flailed with her phone at the man’s face positioned above and behind her. She felt the phone connect with his face, and the tension on the noose slackened for a moment. Lee lunged forward, forcing the noose out of one of the man’s hands and burst out of the chair.
Even as she rose from the chair, the man had regained his footing and was simultaneously reaching for her and kicking the chair out of the way. He had hold of her right arm with his left hand as her back was now facing the desk. As the man reached to her with his left arm, she began to sense the man’s height. Intuitively, she felt she would have an advantage in balance and leverage. She hurled herself into his torso, spinning tightly clockwise on her left foot. She brought her right elbow around and caught him in his rib cage. The man gasped, and Lee managed to break free of him. She shoved him away from her and hurtled herself toward the door on the south-facing wall of the cabin, passing the recliner and the armoire along the way. Even as she approached the exit, however, she saw that a second man, short and slim in build, had entered the cabin, blocking her escape. As she approached, she landed a punch with her right arm squarely on his left cheek, ejecting his round spectacles into the air toward a corner of the room. But he still held on to her with both of his arms, preventing her escape.
Lee pushed herself away from the smaller man and dashed back toward the door on the opposite side of the room, which was still open. However, the taller man was there to block her path. Her mind flashed instantaneously and she recognized him as the man with the Fu Manchu from the ambassador’s apartment and from Zhang’s press conference. He was in formal clothing—black slacks, a white shirt missing the tie, and a black leather coat. He was grinning at her, daring her to attempt another escape.
“You were at Ambassador Wu’s place,” Lee said in Mandarin. “I saw you there.”
The man remained silent. He is tall, Lee thought.
Lee said, “I’m not a danger to you.”
“We both know that is not true.”
Lee bolted sharply forward to try and get around Mr. Fu Manchu. She was gaining momentum as she barreled into him, hoping her inertia would allow her to break free, but the man’s grip was crushing. He had her in a bear hug, draped over her back. In a sudden movement, Lee relaxed her legs for a moment and then pushed herself upward with all of her strength. She felt the top of her head explode in pain as it collided with his head, and he released his iron grip. Lee grimaced and grabbed the back of her head as she ran toward the open north door. From behind, Mr. Fu Manchu’s accomplice lunged at her, cutting her off at her legs, and they both collapsed onto the floor. The little man attempted to tackle her again as they both scrambled to their feet, but she connected another jab to his face and then, grabbing him by his neck and utilizing his own forward inertia against him, she pulled him over her right shoulder, sending him careening away from her onto the floor toward the north exit. The separation gave her enough time to dash to the armoire, pull open the door, and retrieve one of the pistols. As soon as she had it in her right hand, she swung it around and pointed it at Mr. Fu Manchu’s accomplice, who stopped in his tracks with his hands raised. Mr. Fu Manchu was still struggling to rise to his feet, still in great pain. He was grasping at his nose and mouth, which were bleeding profusely.
Lee pointed the pistol away from Mr. Fu Manchu’s accomplice and pulled the trigger. The weapon leapt in her hands as a bullet screamed from its barrel and lodged into one of the logs in the wall. The explosion from the gun, which contrasted sharply against the solitude of the night, seemed extraordinarily loud and Lee felt certain the Chinese in the main lodge must have heard it.
With the pistol, Lee gestured toward the subterranean chamber. In Mandarin, Lee said, “Both of you, down into the chamber!” Lee demanded that they remove their coats and empty their pockets, and she had them place everything on the floor. The two men reluctantly, wordlessly stepped down into the chamber. Lee pulled the heavy door up and over as it settled over the entrance. To lock the door, she rolled up a T-shirt she had worn, slid it in through the metal ring on the floor between the ring and the latch, and tied it into a tight double knot. Questioning whether this would hold, she decided to make another search of the room to try and find some reinforcement. She found it in the form of a plunger, which she retrieved from a small restroom. She unscrewed the long wooden handle, and slid it into the lock along with her T-shirt.
Lee’s hot, quick breaths cooled rapidly in the cold night air as she slid her backpack on. She had grabbed the knife and held it tightly in her right hand. Her body shook from stress and shock. She progressed in a quick walk across the property near the cabin. She had only a vague idea as to where she was, but she reasoned if she kept walking uphill she would eventually run into the highway were the Fiat was parked. Off in the distance to the northeast, Lee heard the rumble of a vehicle coming to life. She pondered how long Mr. Fu Manchu and has accomplice had been outside the cabin before they decided to enter. How much warning, if any, had they given their comrades in the main lodge? Lee picked up her pace as she crossed the boundary from the cabin clearing into the forest.
Lee, using the light from Okoye’s smart phone as a guide, picked her way through the scrub and trees for a few minutes until she finally broke through and found herself along the shoulder of Highway 37. She followed it westbound for a hundred yards or so until she found the Fiat. Not wanting to risk another meeting with any of Zhang’s cohorts, Lee started the car and drove for a while down the road before pulling alongside the shoulder again. She grabbed the phone and speed dialed Agent Frank’s number, which took her a couple of tries as her hands were still shaking from adrenaline.
“Lyn? Is that you?”
Does she ever sleep?
“This is Lyn Lee.”
There was a short silence before Frank continued. “Lyn, I’m glad you called. I—”
Lee cut her off. “I’m not calling to chit chat, and I’m not going to discuss my whereabouts or anything related to this case.”
“Okay, Lyn.” Frank was not making any attempt to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Why don’t you—”
“Except for just one thing.”
“Yes?”
“I know where the Chinese are holding them.”
Silence again for a few moments. “Where?”
“I have two addresses and a sailing vessel. Do you have a pen?”
Lee could hear Frank scrambling for something to write with. “Go ahead,” Frank said. Lee gave her the information.
Lee said, “I believe all of the remaining abductees are being held at the location in the Bronx, so I would start there. I would advise to get to these locations as soon as possible. The Chinese may already know I have this information.”
“Lee, how was this information obtained?”
Lee remained silent for a few more moments. “I know much more, Jillian. I know where their safe house is. Or, at least, one of them. But I can’t release it without written and signed absolution of any legal wrongdoing.”
“I understand.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Lee said.
“I believe you, Lyn.”
“But not everybody does, do they?”
Frank remained silent.
Lee said, “Do you know a Terry Phong?”
After a moment of silence, Frank said, “How do you know about Terry Phong?”
“They know about him, too. Whoever he is. They’re
tracking his movements. I believe he is in imminent danger.”
“Lyn, where are you getting this information?”
Lee disconnected. She hoped there might be a time soon where they could again meet face to face.
Chapter 38
The Bronx, New York
Friday, March 7, 7:19 a.m. EST
Mathiason glanced once again at Charlie Calabrisi, a third-year agent originally from Philadelphia who had offered to make the trip up to the Bronx. “Who do you think she is?” Charlie Calabrisi said.
“Can’t say for sure,” Mathiason said. “I’m not privy to those details.”
“What’s she done so far?” Calabrisi said.
Calibrisi, like Mathiason, was one of the younger agents working in the Bureau’s New York office and, as such, they had both been on the early-morning shift and had been present when Jillian Frank had forwarded information to Rose, information which had been obtained by their nameless, yet seemingly omniscient, young spy. The information—the possible location of the remaining Brooklyn Capital abductees—had triggered a burst of activity from the senior agents. Mathiason and Calibrisi had volunteered to make the trip to the location on the corner of Longfellow Avenue and 156th Street in the Bronx.
“I know she’s been able to plant microphones in a couple of sensitive places and we continue to gain information from them.”
The addendum to this statement, Mathiason knew, was that recent events had thrown the young woman’s credibility into question, and that FBI leadership was still sifting through the details. But he didn’t feel like discussing those details with Calibrisi at the moment, for no other reason than he actually had seniority over Calibirisi and he was enjoying exercising it. Mathiason slowed the sedan and squinted his eyes as he tried to view the street signs. “We’re looking for 156th Street.”
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