by Leslie Wolfe
Alex thanked the floor manager profusely, bowed a little to show her respect as she had observed others do, and left the plant carrying four assembled tablets. Making a stop at a DHL service location after making sure no one was following her, she shipped two of the units to Tom’s address, expedited air.
Back in her hotel room, she screened the room for bugs one last time, then pulled out her encrypted sat phone and called Tom.
“Alex, good to hear from you,” Tom greeted her, recognizing her number. “What’s up?”
“Well, nothing. I mean literally absolutely nothing. This place is squeaky clean, so I’ll book myself on the next flight to New Delhi and leave ASAP. Oh, and I sent you two devices; you should get them in a couple of days. They’re completed devices, picked at random from the packaging line. I swabbed them and everything else at the plant for that matter, and they’re clear.”
“Got it. We’ll do a more thorough inspection once we get them over here. “
“Some things for the lab to consider. We didn’t think of biological threats embedded in the devices, and we didn’t think of toxic chemicals, slowly released as the devices warm up due to prolonged use.”
There was a second silence at the end of the line. Then Tom’s voice said gravely, “I understand.”
“There’s another possible theory,” Alex continued. “Even if the plant is clean, there could be something planned to happen to the physical devices while in transit to get on the ship. These days, entire manufacturing processes take place on ships, en route to the continental United States. Please arrange 100 percent unit testing to be conducted at the receiving warehouse in Utah, and have the staff there on high alert.”
“That’s a good idea,” Tom acknowledged. “What else?”
“That’s it; that’s all I got. I’m booking my flight now. Hopefully, I’ll be in Delhi by tomorrow morning. That’s where my gut tells me I should be. Please let Robert know. He should tell them to expect me on Monday first thing.”
“Keep us posted with every step, Alex, and be very careful.”
“I will, I promise,” Alex said, then hung up. She had every intention to keep that promise.
...Chapter 60: Secrecy Amendment
...Friday, July 22, 10:01PM EDT (UTC-4:00 hours)
...Evening News at Ten
...Nationally Syndicated
Phil Fournier cleared his throat quietly before announcing.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. In a highly anticipated decision today, the proposed amendment to the e-vote reform, known as the secrecy amendment, was passed into law. The amendment, proposed by several members of the Senate concerned with preserving the constitutional right to voter secrecy as part of e-vote reform, is eliminating the scanning of the voter registration cards by the electronic voting machines. This single component of the upcoming electronic vote reform has caused numerous concerns to be voiced and an overall increase in people’s distrust in our government, as shown by polls and interviews.
“The amendment passed today is aiming to restore voters’ confidence that their constitutional rights will be respected in the same degree or higher with the e-voting system as they have been with the traditional, paper-based voting process.”
The screen showed a clip demonstrating how electronic voting worked.
“Upon arrival at the voting precincts, voters will present their registration cards at the front desk, where support personnel will check the validity of their registration cards and check the voters’ names off a list. No personal information will be extracted from the voter registration card, and the cards will not be scanned or processed in any other way. This part of the voting process will remain entirely unchanged from previous years. Once the voter has been validated at the front desk, he or she will be invited to proceed to a booth, where they will be using the new e-voting devices to cast their ballots.
After entering the private booth, they will touch the screen to start, then be walked through a series of screens, one for each ballot. The voters will be prompted to select their preferred option for each question by touching it. The voter’s option will then be highlighted in green, and another screen will prompt the voter to confirm the entry. After receiving the confirmation by another tap on the screen, where it says ‘Confirm,’ the voter will be taken to the next ballot, until the entire set is completed and the process is concluded.”
The image refocused on Phil Fournier’s in-studio desk.
“As you can see, with the new amendment there will be absolutely no possibility to correlate the voting data captured by the e-voting devices with the voter registration cards, as it was feared in the initial process. The passing of the secrecy amendment into law today was cheered enthusiastically by demonstrators, rallied in support in front of the Capitol. This measure will restore the badly bruised voter confidence, leading to higher participation rates during the November elections.
“From Flash Elections reporting for the Evening News at Ten, this is Phil Fournier.”
...Chapter 61: Welcome to New Delhi
...Saturday, July 23, 1:07PM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...Indira Gandhi International Airport
...New Delhi, India
Alex dragged her wheelie over the gap between the aircraft’s door and the jetway, feeling a sudden burst of incredibly hot air as she crossed between the two climate-controlled spaces. Happy to be finally leaving the aircraft where she had spent the past eleven hours, she didn’t pay much attention to that sensation of intense, scorching humid heat, blaming it on the brisk air conditioning she had enjoyed throughout her flight.
She passed through Immigration and found ground transportation with ease. Her car and driver were supposed to pick her up there. Walking through the long corridor leading to the exit, she smelled musty air mixed with some menthol or camphor-based air fresheners. As she approached the exit, she started looking for her expected pickup, and there he was, holding a piece of cardboard with her name, misspelled, but still her name. She approached the man and introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Alex Hoffmann,” she said, then pointed at the sign when the man didn’t respond the way she’d been anticipating.
“Oh, yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am,” the man said as soon as he understood. He grabbed her suitcase and started toward the exit in a hurry. She followed him, and as she stepped through the sliding doors of the airport exit, she had to stop, dizzy and shocked. It was hot. A humid and fierce kind of hot, reminding her of the rare times when she’d opened the oven to baste a roast. The wave of heat coming from that oven was very similar to what she was feeling just outside the airport terminal. She leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe. There was no way anyone could breathe in this. Instant sweat covered her from head to toe, her clothing sticking to her skin in a very unpleasant way. She felt her skin burning wherever the fabric touched her. Oh my God, she thought, what the hell am I gonna do?
“Welcome to Delhi,” her driver said in very badly accented English, smiling widely and showing several missing teeth under a moustache-covered upper lip. He was either being very nice with her, or he was just sarcastic and entertained by her reaction to the Delhi mid-summer heat. It was hard to tell when she couldn’t breathe; her brain refused to process any information.
She looked at her watch and noticed sadly that the glass had cracked, most likely from the temperature shock when exiting the airplane’s climate-controlled environment. It was still working though, and she had to settle for that for now.
She started walking slowly, adjusting to the air she struggled to inhale and following her very alert driver. He led her to an SUV bearing the Toyota logo, but it wasn’t a model she had seen before. As he was loading her luggage, she went toward the right side of the car and opened the front door. Not gonna work, she thought as she saw the steering wheel on the right side. She went around the front and opened the left front door but delayed climbing in. Inside the car, although it seemed impossible to imagine, it was
even hotter.
The drive to her hotel was long and interesting. Her driver, with the name of Pranav if she had understood him correctly, had very little concern with red lights. He seemed to take a red light as a personal challenge to see how he could pass through the intersection as the fastest and loudest of all cars. Alex was embarrassed to find herself screaming and covering her face a couple of times, until she finally acknowledged that Pranav had some serious driving skills. However, following traffic law didn’t seem to be one of them. The streets were a disorganized mess of small cars, SUVs, even some very expensive luxury vehicles from time to time, and some three-wheeled green and yellow contraptions built on the frames of motorcycles and meant to carry two passengers in the back.
“Red light,” Alex pointed out, “why aren’t we stopping?”
“No need, ma’am,” Pranav said, very amused by her question.
“What are these things?” Alex asked, pointing at one of the green contraptions on wheels. It carried five young men where two would have been the maximum load she thought they’d be able to take. The five young men were crammed together, a couple of them hanging from the sides almost entirely outside the vehicle, smiling widely as if this were great fun.
“Tuk-tuk, ma’am,” Pranav said.
Such a tuk-tuk had stopped at a traffic light, holding the Toyota behind it; although there was no one in front of that exotic vehicle. To Alex’s surprise, Pranav pushed the tuk-tuk with the Toyota’s bull bar, gently yet firmly enough to make room for their car to bolt and pass through yet another intersection, against red lights and cross traffic honking something terrible.
Finally at her hotel, she found herself thankful she had survived the drive and wondering if she should ask for a new driver. She chuckled, thinking that the drive had been so scary she had completely forgotten the mind-numbing heat. She entered through the front door of the Taj Palace, and, within seconds, the strong jets of air conditioning brought her back to a world of normality, with the faint smell of mildew being the only reminder of the humid hell outside.
Her room was one of the most elegant hotel rooms she had ever seen. Thick, plush, dark red carpeting covered it wall to wall. A wide, arched window, dressed with assorted thick velvet drapery and matching sheers, and a king-sized bed covered in top grade sheets and a feather-light comforter. The room was decorated with exquisite style, and her hosts had placed flowers and fruit in the small reading corner, where several armchairs were placed around a coffee table, with wall lighting above it. The bathroom was amazing, all done in marble, sparkling clean, and decorated with impeccable taste. She noticed with amusement a phone installed right next to the toilet, on the wall. Maybe it’s for the really bad Delhi Belly cases, she thought.
She pulled out her bug detector and started scanning the room, discreetly, wall to wall, making it appear as if she were texting on her cell phone while absently walking. A faint beep and a red dot on the device’s screen indicated the first audio bug, near her nightstand somewhere, probably in the phone. Crap, she nearly said out loud. She paced some more, making a huge effort to refrain from looking right at the offending nightstand. A few steps more toward the window, and a different beep indicated a video bug. This is disgusting, she thought, damn assholes.
She completed her walkthrough with the bathroom and found another audio bug. She took a deep breath, and, remembering what Sam had taught her, started to mentally organize her life as she wanted it to appear on the UNSUB’s surveillance. She’d have to change in the bathroom, where there was no video. She’d have to drop the AC settings a couple degrees, so she’d keep her comforter on while she slept. She didn’t want to put on an involuntary show for these perverts. She shouldn’t be too proper though, or display too much restraint. She had to be seen doing things people normally do when they‘re completely on their own, like yawn without covering their mouths, belch loudly, go to the toilet without closing the door, scratch, swear, and so on.
She let herself fall on her bed, face up and arms spread to her sides, as if to enjoy the comfort of the mattress and fresh sheets. This was the way Sam had taught her to look discreetly for the video bug, because usually these were housed somewhere on the ceiling, in some fixture or vent. There were no fixtures, but there was an AC vent toward the window, and there it was, almost imperceptible. She braced herself, happy she was on to them, and hoping they were not on to her.
...Chapter 62: The Secret Vice
...Saturday, July 23, 9:52AM EDT (UTC-4:00 hours)
...Fort Lauderdale Marina Parking Lot
...Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Muhammad Sadiq opened the trunk of his white Lexus LX 570 and took out a large cooler, putting it down on the heated asphalt of the parking lot with a groan. He was fully recovered after his hip replacement earlier in the year, but he wasn’t young anymore, and he felt that with every step. He stopped, straightened his back after putting down the heavy cooler, and wiped his sweaty brow with a napkin he took out of his pocket. He looked at the crystal blue sky and inhaled the salty sea air, enjoying the morning of what would be a gorgeous, yet very hot summer day. A great day to be on the water.
He took the rest of his luggage from the Lexus: a couple of telescopic fishing rods, a net and a gaff, both with telescopic handles, and a bucket of fresh bait. From the back seat of his car, he took a small duffel bag with personal items for his journey: sunscreen, a couple of fresh towels, things he didn’t already have on his boat.
He started pushing and pulling all his cargo toward the Sea Ray, struggling at every step and straining from the effort. His strife didn’t go unnoticed, as he dragged his paraphernalia at a painfully slow speed right under the Harbor Administration Office window. The office door opened, and the familiar face of the harbormaster greeted him joyfully.
“Good morning, Mr. Sadiq, going out today?”
“Yes, yes, if I can make it to my boat.”
“Let me help you,” he offered, grabbing the handle of the cooler. “Whoa, this is heavy,” he commented.
“There’s no need. I can pull this on my own eventually,” Sadiq answered.
“It’s not a problem, Mr. Sadiq; it’s my pleasure to help you. But it is heavy. What do you have in there?” The harbormaster’s curiosity overcame his manners, a glint of suspicion lighting his eyes from behind the thick-rimmed glasses.
“I can tell you,” Sadiq answered between labored breaths, “but you have to promise me you won’t say a word to anyone.”
“I promise,” the harbormaster said. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Well, you see, I am a Muslim,” Sadiq started to say. “By the holy letter of the Quran, this,” he pointed to the cooler, “is the mother of evil.”
The harbormaster’s eyebrows raised in surprise. They had made it to the Sea Ray, and Sadiq took his fishing gear onboard, then came back to the cooler. He lifted the lid and extracted a can of Bud Light from the ice inside, offering it to the harbormaster.
“Beer?”
“My sin, for which Islam fanatics would have me killed. Please do not tell a soul,” Sadiq said pleadingly.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Sadiq,” the harbormaster said, relieved, popping the can open and taking a long, thirsty gulp. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Judging by the harbormaster’s demeanor, he seemed to like him better once he had learned of his sin. It was a helpful cover to have. His plan had worked quite well; he was pleased.
Finally aboard the Sea Ray, engines running smoothly, Sadiq pushed the throttle gently, leaving the harbor at no wake speed. Once outside the harbor, he programmed his GPS to take him to the Bahamas and pushed the throttle almost 80 percent in. The Sea Ray cut the waves majestically, leaving the shore behind, and within minutes, Sadiq was far enough from the shore to lose sight of it completely.
He put the throttle in neutral and cut the engines. He then dragged the cooler toward the edge of the boat, opened it, and started opening cans of beer and spilling the contents into th
e ocean. After emptying a few, he crushed them somewhat, just as a beer drinker would when finishing one. He set the crushed cans next to the cooler. Then threw overboard the rest of the unopened cans and all the remaining ice. He wiped the cooler dry, carefully with one of the towels he had brought onboard. He closed the cooler lid, and then resumed his high-speed trip to the Bahamas. He would make it there on time, he thought, after checking his watch. The bank would still be open, even if it was a Saturday.
...Chapter 63: The Office
...Monday, July 25, 9:12AM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...ERamSys Headquarters
...New Delhi, India
Pranav had somehow managed to drive Alex to her destination without having them both killed, and she was grateful for that. She wasn’t very sure his English included more than a few words, because his reaction to her firm demands to slow down was to hit the gas, smiling widely and repeating, “Yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
She looked at the building before entering, the morning air still hot and humid, yet somehow more bearable than it had been the day before. The building was modern, six stories of metal and glass structures built as two separate sections and united by a central tower that went up eight stories high. All three sections of the building had some activity happening on their flat roofs, people walking, looking down, using them as terraces to sit and relax, or places where they could smoke. The central section seemed to have trees planted on the roof.
There wasn’t much green in New Delhi. Vegetation was rare, and trees were scarce, at least in the areas where she had traveled. Everything was concrete and asphalt, radiating in the scorching heat. The sun was there, but then again, it wasn’t. A layer of thick yellow smog covered every inch of the sky even when it was clear, and the sun appeared as a dim yellow disc that she could look straight into without even squinting. She extended her arm and looked at the pavement. No, there was no real shadow in this dimmed sunlight, just a trace of it. She suddenly felt better about having to take her car for smog checks every two years.