by Leslie Wolfe
“See? I told you I’m not drunk!”
“Oh, but you are, my dear,” Steve said.
“What? But you said—”
“No sober person would have accepted that challenge.” Steve laughed, followed by the chuckles of their impromptu audience.
“You bastard!” Alex laughed, punching him in the chest.
It felt good to be there; it felt safe. It was OK to be a careless kid again.
Steve’s cell phone rang, interrupting them. He spoke with the caller briefly, then turned to her, his glee gone.
“That was Tom. We’re going back home tomorrow; we have a new client.”
...Chapter 32: A Trip to Vegas
...Sunday, January 17, 4:27PM EST (UTC-5:00 hours)
...Robert Wilton’s Residence
...Washington, DC
Regardless of what Robert did that day, he did not let the burn phone out of his sight, waiting for a sign from Sam Russell or his friend, Tom Isaac. He had met with Tom at the airport, late the night before, and somehow, without really promising much, that guy had put hope back into his heart.
When the burn cell finally chimed, it startled him. With trembling hands, he flipped the cell open to read the text message.
Find a legit business reason to travel to Las Vegas on Tuesday—meet a vendor for dinner. Check into Aria hotel—reservation already made. While at dinner, you’ll get a new text with instructions. Hang in there.
...Chapter 33: Startup
...Monday, January 18, 10:14AM Local Time (UTC+1:00 hours)
...Prague East—Brandýs nad Labem-Stará Boleslav
...Prague, The Czech Republic
Karmal Shah pulled his Audi Q7 into the courtyard. Before parking, he looked around carefully, checking for movement, people, cars, anything out of the ordinary. All was quiet in the backyard of his newly purchased property in East Prague. He had spent 12,000,000 Czech koruny, or almost $470,000, to buy a 7,500-square-foot warehouse with refrigeration capabilities, an office that could accommodate five or six people, and an apartment for his personal use. The building had truck access and a loading dock and could be fitted to house even more industrial-sized refrigerators, if the business were to suddenly pick up. The colors were awful though; the place needed a paint job badly, but there was no time for that.
This location worked great for Shah. It was just a few miles northeast of a small airport, Letiště Praha-Kbely. A small air base that welcomed civilian aircraft traffic for the right amount of money, Kbely was large enough to accommodate his personal plane, a Piaggio Avanti EVO, custom-fitted to carry cargo with minimal reconfiguration. His aircraft turned people’s heads and got a lot of attention due to its twin engines mounted in push configuration. A small forward wing made the nine-seater plane look like it had whiskers and made its silhouette unmistakable. It was a great aircraft: fast, reliable, and low cost to fly. Seven million dollars very well spent.
Karmal Shah, a Pashtun from Afghanistan and successful entrepreneur in the gourmet and exotic foods market with rumored yet unconfirmed ties to the Taliban, was very aware that his current commercial flight status could change overnight if the FBI, CIA, or any such organization should decide to add him to the no-fly list. That was probably going to happen anyway, sooner rather than later. Shah was not delusional; he knew that was coming, especially with the new rise in the terrorist activity generated by ISIL and the renewed focus on antiterrorism that ISIL had generated.
Damn fools, ISIL, ISIS, or whatever they wanted to call themselves. They didn’t have the refinement or patience to think through or build complex strategies. They were savages, barbarians who liked to scream threats and decapitate hostages on television, getting people and organizations like Shah’s under the microscope again. Damn fools. Sometimes Shah wondered whom ISIL really worked for.
Nevertheless, Shah needed to preserve his air mobility, and he needed a private plane for his current needs anyway. The Piaggio was hardly a cargo hauler, but it could take a decent payload. With some careful planning and a few refueling stops along the way, it could even make it to America. A simple stopover would take his plane to Moscow, Eastern Africa, or the Middle East. Great piece of equipment to have, very helpful in his business. The only thing left to do was to register the plane with the Czech Republic Civil Aviation Authority.
Shah liked the location of his new building for many other reasons. The Czechs were happy to grant him business permits and a tax break in exchange for the twenty-five million dollars he was bringing as an investment to their country. Shah was moving his booming online gourmet foods business away from France, where it had operated and grown successfully for years, away from high taxes and overzealous inspectors. All inspectors bothered Shah, whether food, safety, tax, or labor. He simply didn’t want them snooping around. The Czechs were willing to be flexible in exchange for such a strong injection of capital into the region. The local authorities had become his best friends for minimal amounts of cash. Great place to do business.
Engine idling, he checked the task list stored on his iPad. Almost ready to operate. He needed people hired, warehouse and office furniture bought and delivered, and the bulk of his gourmet delicacies stock moved on a large cargo plane from France. Then close down the French location, while the Prague location would already be shipping caviar and smoked oysters to customers all over the world. If he started writing some seriously large checks today, maybe he could be operational here within a week. He hated to rush through these things; that’s how mistakes happen. This time it wasn’t really his choice.
He dialed a number on his mobile.
“Yes, we can do this. We’ll be ready.”
...Chapter 34: A New Client
...Tuesday, January 19, 8:17PM PST (UTC-8:00 hours)
...Aria Sky Suites
...Las Vegas, Nevada
Alex found the room number indicated in her detailed instructions and unlocked the door with her keycard. The entire team was there. Well, almost; she noticed Richard was absent.
“Come on in, Alex,” Tom greeted her. “Let me introduce Sam Russell, an old friend of mine. He’s the one who referred our new client to us.”
“A pleasure,” Alex said, offering her hand. The man, in his early sixties, had a strong handshake and an agreeable smile.
“Alex is our technology executive,” Tom continued the introduction. “Sam was a CIA man until he retired a few years ago and started dedicating all his energy and skills to unveiling the secret locations of catfish in his backyard lake.”
“I take it catfish are disappearing from your neighborhood?” Alex quipped. Sam intimidated her a little, despite his easy-going manner. She had never met a real spy before. The man didn’t look the part, or at least he didn’t look like what Alex had imagined a spy would look like. He looked harmless and benevolent. What were you expecting, guns blazing? Alex thought and swallowed a chuckle.
“Not in the least, covert catfish are safe with me,” Sam replied, his smile widening.
Alex looked around the room, noticing that no one was seated. There was enough seating to accommodate all of them in the luxurious hotel suite, yet everyone preferred to stand. Steve, leaning against a distant wall in his usual style, had a little bit of a frown shadowing his intense gaze. Brian, professional mien and apparently relaxed, was nothing but. Lou was checking messages on his phone and had barely made eye contact with her. Tom was pacing the room slowly. Sam was hovering near the suite door. There was palpable tension in the air.
Alex wondered who the client was responsible for generating such tension before the meeting. They had taken some unprecedented precautionary measures. They had traveled separately, dined separately, and had all been using burn phones for the past two days. What kind of case are we getting ourselves into? Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
Outside the suite’s door, someone tried to open the lock with a keycard, but the lock beeped quietly and stayed locked. Sam opened the door wide.
&nb
sp; “Come on in, Robert,” he said.
A hesitant man with a haunted look came in, smiling tentatively.
“Mr. Wilton, please let me introduce my team,” Tom said, shaking Robert’s hand. “This is Alex; she’s our technology executive. Steve is our human interaction executive and resident psychologist, and Brian is our business executive and device expert. Lou is our very own hacker and self-defense trainer.”
He turned to introduce the visitor. “Robert Wilton is the vice president of Global Sourcing and Engagement for DCBI.” Tom saw the micro-reactions in his team the moment he spoke the company name. “Yes, that DCBI.”
They all sat down on armchairs around a small coffee table, except for Steve, who didn’t move and stayed leaning against the wall.
“The case we are discussing today is a bit unusual for us,” Tom continued. “We have never before considered engaging a client unless it had the CEO’s signature, or the Board of Directors signing off on the engagement with a majority vote. In light of the sensitivity of this case, I wanted you to make that decision,” Tom gestured toward the team. “Either accepting or rejecting this case carries immense responsibility. Let’s give Mr. Wilton the opportunity to tell us what happened.”
Alex listened to Robert speak, going through facts and events in a guilt-ridden voice, his eyes fixated on the elaborate design of the Sky Suite’s thick carpeting. The denied transplant. The deal offered by a stranger with the name of Helms. The two employees killed with no apparent foul play or correlation between them. A car crash on ice-covered mountain roads and a heart attack in plain view. Awarding the e-vote contract to the Indian offshoring company ERamSys. The threat to Melanie’s life if the deal was cut short. The deal. The deal with the devil. She took some notes, while her brain, in high gear, started correlating the events and speculating as to what could be the reasons and motives behind the facts described by Robert Wilton. These cases aren’t getting any easier with time, that’s for sure, she thought. Can’t even believe we’re having this conversation, here, in a Vegas hotel room. This sounds more like a case for the feds or the CIA or something, not for...me. She shuddered.
Robert Wilton finished his story, and silence took over the room for a few moments.
“Any questions? Opinions, ideas?” Tom asked.
“So, let me get this straight,” Alex said, “we’re looking at a terrorist attack targeting our elections? Hidden behind an offshore software development contract?”
“Hidden behind it, or linked to it somehow,” Tom clarified.
“This goes way beyond corporate conspiracies, our normal cup of tea,” she offered. “Way beyond. Terrorism? I don’t think we’re even remotely equipped to deal with that.”
“Terrorists are not that different from the mainstream corporate bad guys we’ve been tackling,” Steve responded. “They all want the same things, follow more or less similar goals, money, or some strong personal or group belief. Terrorists just go about it in a different way, that’s all.”
“And they’re more dangerous,” Lou added.
“True. They’ve crossed the line into illegal activities and have nothing to lose. That makes them very dangerous.” Steve agreed. “But the same core psychology still applies. If a crime is being committed, think means, motive, and opportunity. This rule applies to the master plan and its creator. Think strategically about all these moving parts. They are part of a whole, of a blueprint of serious proportions. This whole we don’t understand yet. That being said, I still believe we should walk away from this case. It’s just way too dangerous. Could get us all killed.”
“You have a point, Steve. Why aren’t we taking this case to the feds or Homeland Security?” Alex asked.
Sam leaned forward a little before answering.
“There is a strong risk that if the feds or any law enforcement agency is called in, they will simply stop the deal and fail to uncover who is behind this. The conspirators would go underground, and we would never find them, nor will we know when they decide to strike next. Or how.”
“Can’t the feds go undercover and investigate discreetly, like we would do? Can’t they see the big picture?” Alex continued her chain of thought.
“No law enforcement agency directors would gamble with the presidential elections. With their careers at stake, they’d go strictly by procedure. They would just kill e-vote altogether to be safe, and in the wake of that, DCBI would be bankrupted, and Robert would be thrown in jail for the rest of his life.”
“I can accept that,” Robert said, still staring at the floor.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam snapped. “You wouldn’t be going down for taking a bribe. You’d go down for treason!”
Silence filled the room: thick, compact, and heavy. Robert’s pallor turned grayish.
“Wow,” Alex whispered. “That puts things in a very different perspective, right?”
“Yes,” Sam acknowledged. “We have to think of the potential ramifications. This deal is most likely not about money. This doesn’t sound like it’s about helping the Indian vendor get the contract to satisfy his ego. There is some kind of conspiracy behind it. I’d bet on it. Could be terrorism, yes, you’re right. Sure feels like terrorism. But it also could be something else we can’t even think of right now. We only know for sure that it has to do with the presidential elections coming this November; it’s linked with the offshore deal, and it’s worth killing for.”
“Alex, if we take this case,” Tom said in a gentle voice, “it will have your name all over it. You’re the only one of us who we can deploy in a technology environment.”
“Yeah, I know.” She looked at Tom with concern. “And I’m worried I could let everyone down. I could get all of us in serious trouble, even killed, if I make a mistake. This deal is way more serious than our typical corporate investigations. Tom, I am not a spy, and I don’t know how to function like one.”
“But I am,” Sam interjected. “I would work the case with you, with all of you.”
“Officially?” Alex asked.
“As in ‘with the CIA’? No, unofficially, I am afraid. I’m still retired, and I can’t call the company for the same reason we can’t call the feds.”
“I see,” Alex said quietly.
“So you’re considering this, Tom?” Steve asked, leaving his wall and stepping toward the center of the room. “This can go wrong in so many ways that I can’t even think of a way it can go right! Have you thought about what happens to Alex if she gets caught? What happens to all of us?”
“I have thought about it a lot. That’s why I’m asking the team to make the decision. Personally, I can’t just shrug this off and walk away from it. Call me a patriotic fool, delusional, or whatever, but it feels to me we have little choice. This is one of those things that once you learn they exist, you can never be the same again; you can’t just walk away from it.”
“I get it,” Steve said angrily, “but think of what you’re asking. All of us here could end up in jail for the rest of our lives, not just him.” Steve pointed at Robert Wilton.
“I agree, and that’s why, again, I am not asking anything of you other than to decide.”
“Do you realize we’d go in without support?” Steve continued. “DCBI knows nothing of this, and we would have zero leadership support behind us. We’d be blind, exposed, completely on our own. A bunch of crazy, rogue vigilantes on a truth quest across continents.”
“Correct,” Tom said, frowning. “No argument here. What else do we need to think about?”
“I hate to be the business head in this discussion, but how will we get paid?” Brian asked. “This operation will be very costly.”
“I could raise—” Robert started to say and was interrupted immediately.
“No need for that. I would waive any fees and fund the entire case myself,” Tom said. “The financial loss would be mine and mine only.” He hesitated a little, then continued. “I feel very strongly about this case. It stir
red me up, brought back memories of war, of sacrifice, of just doing the right thing, and the hell with the rest. Of being heroes, no matter how dumb that sounds today. Are we being patriotic here? Or delusional? Or just plain stupid? You need to tell me. If this case stirs you the same way, you’ll let me know. Personally, I am willing to take the risk, and I am willing to sacrifice for it. However, regardless of that, if your decision is to say no, I will not think any less of any of you. You have my word.”
“You said ‘will,’ Brian,” Alex commented.
“Not sure I understand,” Brian responded. “What do you mean?”
“You said ‘this operation will be very costly,’ not ‘would.’ Are you inclined to say yes?”
“Good catch, Alex.” Brian agreed with a frown. “I guess I do. Businesswise it might be a mistake of epic proportions, but it made me think I want to do this because they simply can’t get away with it, and I want to make sure of that. Personally. You see, normally we deal with corrupt business people; we fix things, and we right the wrongs. Yes, I can totally see how we bring value and why. It makes me feel good about the work we do. However, in most of the cases we take, the effect of our work is limited to the client corporation. That’s what we fix, that’s what we help with. But in this case, it’s personal. They, whomever they might be, are coming after me, after us, our families, our lives maybe. They are targeting our elections somehow. They’ve crossed a line. They could be planning to bomb the voting precincts, for example, and that’s as personal as it can get for me.”
“It’s probably not going to be explosives.” Lou made his voice heard for the first time that evening. “Because the software is what they care about. They said they didn’t care about hardware, so probably there won’t be bombs inside the devices.”