Devil's Move

by Leslie Wolfe

  “Where do we go from here?” Alex asked. “That’s what keeps me up at night. What options do we still have?”

  “Before attempting to answer your question,” Tom said, “let me tell you what we’ve learned about the heart.”

  She looked confused for a split second, until she remembered Melanie Wilton’s transplant. So many things had happened since then, it seemed like eons had passed.

  “We are confident the heart came from a homeless Army veteran in Nebraska. We were unable to find any gray-market connections with respect to this transplant, so Brian had an idea, to search for any homicide victims around that timeframe who were missing organs. The only match was this poor vet in Nebraska. The heart was harvested under anesthesia, perfect surgical conditions, and then the body was dumped in the Platte River, west of Omaha. It was found a few days later, but the coroner was unable to determine the precise time of death.”

  “Was this vet missing any other organs? Or just the heart?” Steve asked.

  “He was only missing his heart, leading us to believe this was a targeted hit, rather than an organ smuggling ring of sorts. Brian’s assumption was that they must have hacked the VA database, looking for people who were a perfect donor match and had no family to miss them,” Tom clarified.

  Silence engulfed the hotel room, which overlooked the paradisiacal view of the Maldives: white sands, lush forests, and green waters. No one paid any attention to the blissful scene right outside their hotel; they were all troubled by the same thoughts.

  “All right,” Alex broke the silence, “let’s talk next steps. We know they’re stealing our elections and we know how. Is this the extent of their attack? Or are we missing something? That’s my first question. Then, second, how do we contain this mess? What’s our damage control strategy?”

  “I think it’s time to call the feds,” Steve suggested.

  “Absolutely not,” Alex snapped. “Nothing changed from the last time we argued about this subject; what the hell? Robert would still go to jail forever, Melanie’s life would be in danger, and the government would pull back on the e-vote reform. Let’s say all of that is acceptable, although it isn’t, but I’m not even sure we have all the details of what the attack is going to be. More important for me, we cannot let these bastards get away with it. If we call the feds now, the UNSUB will go underground and disappear. Don’t know about you, but I want to nail these bastards. They just can’t get away with it, not while I’m still alive.”

  Tom nodded quietly. Steve’s expression was impenetrable, but Alex knew he was hurt. She had no choice. This was not about her safety. It had never been.

  “Additionally, I would personally prefer,” she continued in a more subdued voice, trying to appease Steve’s feelings, “if I, and all the people in the world I care about,” she gestured toward all of them, “would not have to be imprisoned for the rest of our lives. If we call the feds, don’t kid yourselves...that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Or worse. And the devil, whoever he might be, wins the game.”

  No one said a word for a while. There was nothing left to say after her disturbing reminder of what their reality looked like.

  “What if we rewrite the software?” Lou asked. “Without the malware?”

  “We can’t possibly rewrite in a few days what tens of programmers took weeks to code,” Alex protested. “I haven’t written a line of code in years, don’t count on me.”

  “I wasn’t,” Lou stated. “I’m a hacker, you know. We, hackers, know people.”

  “What? You’re saying you could get the software fixed? Rewritten?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, giving a military salute. “I’m fairly confident I can.”

  “If you can pull it off, Lou, then we’re good on the software side,” Alex replied. “We give the signoff to the Indian vendor and swap the software without them even knowing. That would work really well. That would be so cool!”

  “How about the hardware?” Sam asked. “How confident are we that the hardware is clear? If I were a terrorist, I wouldn’t let that opportunity go to waste. I’d rig a few to explode or something.”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t that jeopardize what they’ve worked so hard to achieve in the software?” Steve asked. “The democratic win?”

  “You got a point,” Lou said.

  “I’m confident that Taiwan was clear,” Alex said. “Not confident for any of the subsequent processes the devices go through after delivery from Taiwan. Where are the devices now?”

  “The NSA vendor in Utah, InfraTech, took ownership and is holding them at its warehouse,” Tom replied. “The hardware is ready to install the software via cloud as soon as the vendor’s ready and DCBI has signed off. It has test stations equipped to check the tablets for malware. InfraTech, and everyone else for that matter, is freaking out because the software is not ready yet. It should have been signed off on last month.”

  “Wow, Tom, look at you,” Alex commented, “using words like cloud and software installation. That’s awesome!” She felt the exhilarating joy only hope brings, especially at the end of a trying time.

  “You see these new gray hairs?” Tom pointed at his head, almost entirely gray. “These gray hairs are all because of technology,” he laughed.

  He looked just as Alex had remembered him from a few weeks before. Nothing had changed, other than a few neologisms added to his vocabulary.

  “OK, so how do we contain the hardware risk? Even if it makes no sense to think it’s rigged to blow up?” Alex asked. “Sam, if you were the terrorist, what would you do?”

  “Oh, God, let me think. So Taiwan’s out, that leaves transit and InfraTech. Transit is done already; the devices are there. We cannot control transit anymore. If we are to assume the devices came in clean from Taiwan, then it must be InfraTech. Because it’s a big-shot vendor for the NSA, I can’t think of the company being the culprit. More likely a rogue employee, who could place C4 and timers in a few tablets at random.”

  “So, if you were the terrorist, you’d rig a few to explode, huh?” Alex asked.

  “Yep, that’s what I’d do.”

  “Even if you had a bigger agenda?”

  “Hmm...Maybe, because I’m a terrorist, I can’t think straight unless I think explosives. It’s in my blood. I just couldn’t let the opportunity pass.”

  “Dogs could sniff that in a second.” Alex pushed back.

  “Yeah, sure, but dogs inspected the cargo upon delivery. Afterward, no one will think to check it again. A rogue employee makes the most sense.”

  “And it fits the UNSUB’s preferred methods,” Tom added. “The plan always had these precise targets, these precise interventions. He always went sharpshooting, not carpet-bombing. It fits.”

  “So what do we do?” Alex asked.

  “I’ll handle that,” Sam said. “I’ll get a good friend of mine from the NSA to recommend the replacement of all InfraTech staff with NSA personnel until the devices and the software are deployed.”

  “How would you prevent the UNSUB from learning that?”

  “I can’t. We don’t know who that rogue employee is, so we can’t control the communication,” Sam said, “but the NSA has procedures for clean, contained takeovers.”

  “It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Tom said.

  “I’m not really worried about that,” Sam concluded.

  “Just wait for me to get back from Delhi, will ya?” Alex asked.

  “You’re not going back, are you?” Steve asked.

  “Yes, I am. I have to sign off on the bloody software, don’t I? Maintain our cover?”

  “Alex, I can’t go back with you. I have to work on getting the software rewritten. I can’t do that under their surveillance,” Lou said.

  “It’s all right, Lou, I’ll be fine.”

  “Please reconsider,” Steve pleaded. “That guy, Bal, threatened you. It’s not safe for you there, Alex.”

  “It never was, Steve, yet here I am. Please trust m
e. Trust me that I can do this. Please.” She gazed into his blue eyes for seconds, silently. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I have no choice, really. If neither of us goes back, our cover is blown, and everything we tried to do goes straight to hell. So, lovely curry, here I come.” She joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  No one laughed; no one even cracked a smile. They were a tough crowd, these guys.

  “The problem remains,” she resumed in a serious tone, “that we still don’t know who these bastards really are. For that, I see very few options. Any ideas, gentlemen?”

  “I could reach out to some old contacts in the CIA,” Sam offered, “see if they picked up on any chatter recently, or have any clues of any kind. Ask them if they know anything more about the Indian terrorist, Singh. Maybe his association with the software company CEO would give us something. I’ve already asked here and there and gotten nothing. No one knows what that bastard’s up to these days.”

  “By the way,” Lou asked, “who followed him that day?”

  Sam hesitated a little before answering. “Mossad,” he finally said.

  Lou whistled. “Good to know you have friends, Sam.”

  “Mossad’s got him on their known terrorist list, but they don’t have any intel that could help us in our case. I’ll check some more, see what’s out there.”

  “What time is it in California right now?” Alex asked.

  “We’re precisely twelve hours ahead of them, so it’s 8:42 in the morning in California,” Steve answered. “Why?”

  “Friday or Saturday?” Alex asked.

  “Friday.”

  “OK, there’s some hope. I see no other option than to do what you men can never do, no matter how high the stakes and how lost you are.”

  “What’s that?” Tom asked, intrigued.

  “Ask for help.”

  ...Chapter 84: Calling a Friend

  ...Friday, September 2, 8:44PM Local Time (UTC+5:00 hours)

  ...Royal Island Resort and Spa

  ...The Maldives

  She pulled the SatSleeve from her bag and fitted it to her cell phone. Everyone watched quietly, curious to see her next move. She dialed a number and a professional female voice answered on the first ring.

  “This is Mr. Bernard’s assistant, how can I help you?”

  “Good eve...morning,” Alex corrected herself, “may I please speak with Mr. Bernard?”

  “I am sorry; he is unavailable at the moment.” Bernard’s assistant had that polite, yet assertive and cold demeanor very common to executive assistants, trained in rejecting all kind of unwanted callers, day in and day out.

  “When is the earliest I can reach him?” Alex insisted.

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Yes, this is Alex Hoffmann, an acquaintance of his.”

  A split second of hesitation, then the executive assistant’s voice came back on, much softer and more helpful.

  “Miss Hoffmann, if you could kindly hold the line for a second, I will put you right through to Mr. Bernard.”

  Alex smiled, thinking her name was still worth something with her former client, the CEO of one of the biggest banks in the world.

  “Alex, what an unexpected pleasure,” Blake Bernard answered. “Glad to see you still remember me.”

  “Mr. Bernard, of course—”

  “Blake, please.”

  “Blake, yes, how are you? I hope you’re well,” Alex said, very uncomfortable with such pleasantries. Her direct style didn’t value the typical icebreakers other people used, and she struggled with them every time.

  “I’m good, very good, Alex. I do remember you quite well, and I know you wouldn’t be calling me just to check on me, no matter how depressing that feels. What can I do for you?”

  She cleared her throat a little.

  “I’m working on a case, and I need your help.”

  “Shoot,” Blake said, getting ready to jot things down on a paper pad.

  “I need your jet in the Maldives, ASAP. And no, it’s not for personal enjoyment.”

  “Even if it were, that’s not an issue. The jet will be on its way within the hour. What else?”

  “I need access to your anti-money laundering team, software, terminals, and to Clarence.”

  Clarence was one of the best anti-money laundering analysts in the industry, a friend of Alex’s since she had worked on Blake Bernard’s case.

  “He’ll have to cancel his Labor Day plans,” he said.

  “I have no other way,” Alex said apologetically.

  “That’s fine, he’ll understand. What are you up to these days?” Bernard asked. “I know you can’t really tell me, but—”

  “I’m chasing a terrorist, Blake, and don’t ask me how that happened, ’cause I don’t really know. I just know I have to catch this man, and I need your help. Badly.”

  “You got it. What else do you need?”

  “One more thing, please. Your pilots should be ready to sign our NDA.”

  He chuckled.

  “Consider it done.”

  ...Chapter 85: Help

  ...Sunday, September 4, 2:23AM Local Time (UTC+5:00 hours)

  ...Royal Island Resort and Spa

  ...The Maldives

  Lou entered his hacker username, SealBreaker, and password and gained instant access to an encrypted chat room where he knew he’d find at least one of his buddies hanging out.

  He typed, “Salutations, white hats in there,” and waited. A chime soon followed.

  TheMoon: Hey, SealBreaker, haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been damaging lately, bro?

  SealBreaker: All damage has been done already, and it wasn’t me. But we can fix with a little sweat and get mega bragging rights.

  Another hacker joined their chat.

  MissMeNow: Long time no see, Seal, baby, what’s new? Any decent hackification lately?

  Lou laughed out loud as he typed his reply.

  SealBreaker: Turned all cool and nice now, just playing around with some really neat stuff.

  TheMoon: What’s the gig about?

  SealBreaker: Interested?

  TheMoon: No spec, no statement.

  SealBreaker: Right on. How would you like to prove that we can code in days what offshoring did in months, charging millions for it, and their code still sucked?

  TheMoon: How much?

  SealBreaker: Coding? Or dough?

  MissMeNow: Funny...both, baby, both.

  SealBreaker: Code not that much, money unsure, maybe nada. Count on generic bragging rights, ’cause you won’t be disclosing what the code is about.

  MissMeNow: Sounds like total exploitation to me, baby Seal.

  Lou frowned.

  TheMoon: Sounds like government fuckup Seal’s trying to cover, that’s what. What’s the code for?

  SealBreaker: Code of silence compiles?

  MissMeNow: Error free.

  TheMoon: Same on this machine.

  SealBreaker: It’s the e-vote, hats. That’s what I need you to write.

  TheMoon: Wait a sequence...R U 4 real? WTF, man?

  SealBreaker: 100 percent, no rounding up.

  MissMeNow: Alpha will want in, and we want Alpha bad for this. I’ll get him. Maybe even Hyde&Seek.

  A chime announced another participant.

  Alpha: Just heard. One Q before I start coding. Why us?

  SealBreaker: ’Cause we need the best security ever. You’re the best.

  Alpha: Have a spec?

  SealBreaker: And a good one.

  TheMoon: How do we do this?

  SealBreaker: I’ll coordinate if you like. The functionality ain’t much to code. Security is big. Offshore already malwared it. That’s why I’m asking you.

  Alpha: Bastards.

  TheMoon: When do you need it? Next week ok?

  SealBreaker: Super.

  Alpha: Shoot that spec over and we’ll get busy.

  MissMeNow: Baby Seal, we shall shine again. There’s winnitude in this projec
t. Me excited.

  Lou let the air exit his lungs in a long sigh. They were the best American white hat hacking had to offer, despite the fact that some had criminal records, and others were barely of legal drinking age. They were the good guys coming to the rescue. He had more than hope; he had a solution in place.

  ...Chapter 86: Return to Delhi

  ...Tuesday, September 6, 9:41AM Local Time (UTC+5:00 hours)

  ...Ibrahim Nasir International Airport

  ...The Maldives

  Alex was trying to hear over the noise of Blake Bernard’s jet, parked nearby with its engines idling. The Phenom 300, relatively silent for a jet its size, still caused their goodbyes to be awkward, covered by the constant whirring of its engines.

  “Will you be OK?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah, I will,” Alex said. “I’ll just tell them Lou dumped me and went home. I’ll have an excuse to look sad and stay locked in my office all day long.”

  “Ah, thank you much,” Lou said, “make me the asshole.”

  “If the shoe fits.” Alex laughed.

  “Bye, kiddo, we’re right behind you, one phone call away,” Sam said. “I’m not leaving the area. Just paying some friends a visit, then I’ll be in New Delhi, very close by in case you need me.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Alex asked.

  “Just an old Russian spook, mad at life and willing to have a glass of vodka with me. He knows people, things, stuff like that. Who knows? Might be worth the travel time.”

  She looked at them, feeling tears coming to her eyes. Steve was quiet, dark, his forehead lined with worry. Sam was confident and encouraging, his normal self. Lou was preoccupied, studying the tarmac’s asphalt. He must be thinking about the software, the burden is on him now, Alex thought. Tom looked proud; Alex couldn’t figure out why. There was nothing to be proud of. Not yet, anyway.

  “All right, you guys, go ahead, you’re gonna miss your flight,” she said, half-jokingly. They climbed the Phenom’s ladder and soon were out of sight. The Phenom’s door closed and locked, and then the jet started to taxi away. She looked at it until she couldn’t see it anymore. Minutes later, she saw it take off on her left.