The Director invited him in and said, “Gentlemen, you all know Directorate Anders. Benson, you can speak freely.”
Benson walked to the Director’s desk, nodded to the men in the room and said, “We must announce the recovery of the sequestered jet as soon as our communications open. This news must include an announcement that all passengers are safe and being returned home.”
The other men in the room began mumbling and the Director raised his hand for silence. He looked at Benson, “What have you learned?”
Benson sat in the nearest chair and waited for the pain to subside from his surgical wounds. “Dr. Nobel has identified the electromagnetic shield that is blocking our communications as part of the DIANA project code. He fears that this is merely the first of a series of DIANA related issues we will be facing within a very short period of time, sir. His access to data was interrupted, which means his prediction does contain some speculation. He has offered his help and that of his primary assistant. In exchange, he wants an announcement that all passengers on the missing jet have been located and are safe.”
The Director didn’t care for ultimatums, especially when faced with numerous problems that seemed to be of equal priority. However, the demand was not entirely a surprise.
Benson added, “Sir, I urge you come to a favorable decision quickly regarding this. Dr. Nobel has confided to me that our issues may very well exceed his capabilities. We may require additional resources. We are already losing valuable time.”
The Director looked at the faces of the men in the room. Some were moved by Benson’s plea, some seemed skeptical. All of them were aware of Benson’s talents for predictions. The Director wanted insight to Benson’s gut.
He asked, “Benson, if you had to choose one word to describe your feelings regarding our situation without the help of Dr. Nobel, what would that word be?”
Benson didn’t hesitate. “Hopeless.”
There was no mistaking the expressions of surprise from Benson’s word choice.
The Director took a few steps away from his desk and turned his back on everyone. Benson could imagine the consequences, either way, of what would be said next.
“Prepare the news releases and notify our people that have custody of these passengers. I want this to be the first release we issue when we come back online. Hammer the story of the jet being found with the press. Suggest the possibility of a mechanical error and a hero pilot. This may buy us time to explain the blackout.”
The other men left the office and the Director signaled Benson to stay. “I trust your gut over everything. What else can I do for you?”
Benson smiled, “Do you have an aspirin?”
*****
Nick cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast and glanced over to where Dalton stood in the hall, guarding the open bathroom door as J.T. showered. Chris was pacing in the living room and talking to himself about what could cause communication blackouts for an entire region. He sounded as if he was conducting at least a two person debate. Nick could only follow half of the science Chris was arguing with himself about. Chris kept checking his cell phone and Nick’s laptop in hopes the signals were restored sooner than expected.
Nick wiped the sink with a cloth and carefully folded it to rest over the arm of the faucet. He thought of his mom. That’s the way she always hung the washcloth when he was young. So many of his early memories of her he had incorporated into his adult life. After 25 years of believing she had deserted him and his father, he found out last year that she was alive and why she had left. His feelings of abandonment had been replaced with feelings of pride in all that she had accomplished in the fight for justice. Phillips had often referred to her as remarkable and invaluable. Every time the mob suffered a blow from law enforcement, Nick hoped it would finally be the catalyst for her to retire.
Phillips had called him this morning and told him that Dominick Guioni was dead. Nick’s heart had skipped a beat at the news. Maybe now she would feel it was safe to come home.
*****
Momma and Artie sat playing gin rummy at one of the small tables in the sandwich shop. Neither of them had spoken of Artie’s rendezvous with Lenny behind her shop last night. Mitch finished reading his third newspaper and loudly declared the silence was driving him crazy.
Momma’s eyes never left her cards as she said, “Water still works. You could wash down that back wall for me.”
Mitch immediately regretted he had stayed in the store front. Of course Momma would think of something for him to do. Just then the tin bells over the door jingled and Lenny walked in. He walked to the muffin case and grinned at Mitch. “Hey, dude! Let me get one of those bran muffins.”
Lenny turned to face Artie and Momma. “You guys hear the news? Dominick got himself killed last night.”
Artie’s jaw dropped as he looked to Momma.
Momma narrowed her eyes and said, “Gin.” She placed her cards on the table and glanced at Lenny. “Way too much killin’ goin’ on, don’t you think, Lenny?”
Lenny appeared to be ready to respond when Artie suddenly stood and said, “Lenny, we’re not interested in the sordid stories from the street. You said you’d be working all day today.”
Lenny took a bite of his muffin. “Hell, took me half the mornin’ to get here! Power’s out in most parts of town. People are actin’ all crazy and shit.” He took another bite. “Mr. Mullen wants me to pack the rest of his movin’ stuff in my truck at noon and drive it to his new house. I was hopin’ I could get Mitch to play hooky and lend me a hand.”
Momma and Artie both yelled “no” at precisely the same time.
Lenny’s head jerked back. “Okay, then. Guess that answers that.”
Mitch asked, “Who do they think killed Dominick?”
Lenny started bobbing his head and pushed his chest forward. “I haven’t heard yet, but the word on the street is whoever did it took his head!”
Momma made a sound of disgust as she shuffled the cards for another game.
Lenny made a sour face in agreement with Momma. “I know, right? Mob’s kind of obsessed with heads for some reason.”
Artie couldn’t stand the pressure of waiting for Lenny to say something stupid. “You better head toward Frankie’s place now. Who knows how long this power is going to be out and you’ll want to be on time.”
Lenny started for the door. “Uncle Artie, can I ask a favor?”
Momma and Artie both held their breath. Momma didn’t want Mitch to know about last night and she didn’t want Artie to know she knew anything.
Lenny asked, “Can I borrow fifty bucks ‘til Mr. Mullen pays me? I been goin’ through gas like you wouldn’t believe.”
Artie took a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and pushed it to Lenny. “There.”
Lenny’s face broke out in a wide grin. “Thanks, Uncle Artie. I’ll get it back by Friday.”
The bells jingled as Lenny left.
Mitch watched as Artie looked at Momma from the corner of his eye. Momma was dealing the cards as if she were the only one in the room. Her jaw was set, her lips pursed. Something was going on that they weren’t telling him.
Chapter Sixteen
10:59 a.m., amphitheater control room, CIA Headquarters
The silence in the amphitheater control room was deafening. Elliott thought the minute hand of his watch had taken three minutes to make that one last move. At precisely 11:00 a.m., a roar of human voices assaulted the silence and the wall of monitors flickered to life. The Control Room Managers, Dan and Roger, spoke rapidly into their headsets while gesturing to people in the room and exchanging printed pages with a parade of people that approached them.
Benson startled Elliott when he sat next to him. “Let’s get you the rest of that code you need.”
Elliott saw that his monitor was ready and he re-entered the Malaysian DIANA code where the algorithm canary had died. He scrolled to the spot he had previously printed. There appeared to be twelve pages of code remaining of
the inserted code and he selected to print those pages. As they printed, he slowly scrolled the lines of code on his monitor. Elliott read complex code like most people read nursery rhymes.
Benson watched in anticipation as Elliott reached the last page. Elliott stared at the last few lines of code and then looked back to the canary report. There was another anomaly discovered further into the program. Elliott paged forward to review that section. He hit print to cover the selected pages and turned to face Benson.
Elliott asked, “Will there be an announcement on my jet soon?”
Benson nodded. “Yes. It should be the first announcement from our office directly to the news centers. I promise you, I was present when the Director ordered it.”
Elliott believed him. “May I contact Chris to consult with me on this before I render a report to you? I assure you that we will not waste any time.”
Benson answered, “Certainly. I do have a concern, however. Chris is located in a private residence in Chicago without any specialized equipment. Do I have time to fly him back to the lab in Lead?”
Elliott shook his head, “No. He can access our computers at Lead with assistance from Angel. What he will need is extensive wireless support and high definition, multifunctioning monitors. Can you get those to his location?”
Benson asked, “Yes, I’ll order them immediately. Might I ask what your primary concern is now based on this code?”
Elliott’s mind was swarming with questions. “I am going to confess to you that I have more questions than answers. I can only guess as to the purpose of this code insert. It’s crucial that you locate the team that was working with Dr. Kyser.”
Elliott noticed Benson had beads of sweat on his forehead, even though the room was quite chilly. “We are going to need each other and you are nearing a collapse. Please, sit down, drink some citrus juice and try to relax. You’re not well.”
Benson took a seat next to Elliott. “You’re right. I had surgery yesterday and a very sleepless night. Thank you for your concern.”
Benson asked a nearby staffer to provide them with a pitcher of juice and some aspirin. His eyes nearly glazed over at the sight of the monitors on the wall. The jet was smoldering, the emergency responders were crawling all over the train station in Geneva and Monitor 114 had four satellites sitting in space waiting for further instructions. This was asking a lot from aspirin.
Mason’s silhouette appeared on one monitor. The Control Manager, Dan, expanded the monitor size and increased the audio volume.
Mason’s voice filled the room. “Our first demand is the immediate release of all persons currently detained for affiliations to organized crime. A complete list of names has been sent to your Director’s official email. You have 48 hours to verify compliance.” The monitor returned to its previous screen image.
Elliott looked at Benson. “At least now we know who they are.”
*****
Dalton held Nick’s door open as teams of CIA personnel delivered computer equipment into the house. Special receiver boosters were being installed on Nick’s roof and Chris had directed most of Nick’s living room furniture to be moved to the small dining room and guest bedroom.
J.T. sat at the kitchen table with Nick listening to Chris give instructions on equipment placement.
J.T. asked, “So, what’s the plan? You and Mr. CIA are just going to keep me here forever?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t have a plan. Mr. CIA probably does.” Nick picked an apple from the bowl in the center of the table and took a bite. “I’m watching the redecorating right now and waiting for the news to come back on.”
Nick had put his television on the kitchen counter. At last the television began displaying a message that regular programing would resume shortly.
J.T. leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You’ve got some good moves for a cop.”
Nick took another bite of his apple. “I try to eat right, exercise a little. How about you? Any moves I should be worried about?”
“Naw, I told you guys last night, I’m just a business man: import/exports. We have a big misunderstanding here. I’m trying to be polite, but I’m not really a patient man. You and Mr. CIA are wasting my time.” J.T. frowned and Nick sensed he was being warned.
Nick tossed his apple core to the wastebasket and leaned forward. “Nobody here has time to waste. Cool your jets. It’s safe to assume that your value is being assessed as we speak.”
J.T. agreed with Nick’s assessment of his situation, but remained expressionless.
Dalton walked in the room, his cell phone to his ear. Directorate Anders had just told him that information on Mason was a top CIA priority. Dalton had given Directorate Anders the phone number they had for Mason. Directorate Anders had just stated that there were no orders regarding J.T. at this time. Dalton was to keep him secure and available.
Dalton ended his call and sat across from Nick and J.T. The television suddenly sprang to life. As expected, breaking news reported that Elliott’s jet had crash landed in Pakistan and all but one passengers had survived the crash. The passenger that didn’t survive had apparently suffered a heart attack. He was Dr. Gustoff Kyser, a celebrated astrophysicist that recently became a Russian citizen. All passengers and crew were being treated by medical personnel and expected to be sent home immediately.
Nick yelled for Chris to come listen to the broadcast.
Chris watched a repeat of the broadcast. He had a fistful of papers he began waving after he heard the full report.
Chris looked at Nick, “He did it! Elliott won!” Chris’ cell phone rang and he looked at his caller ID. “It’s Elliott!” Chris quickly walked to the far end of the kitchen and turned his back on Nick, J.T., and Dalton.
Nick watched as Chris’ shoulders dropped and he leaned into the kitchen counter. He heard Chris say, “No. That’s not possible. Is it?” Chris started flipping through the papers he had in his fist. Suddenly his voice rose, “My God. They don’t know where it is? What do you want Angel and me to do?” Chris slowly turned and faced everyone. Nick was startled at the dramatic change in Chris’ tone when he said, “I’ll get started immediately. Send me your test updates and feed on the satellites. Elliott, what can we do?”
Chris ended his call with Elliott and stood next to the table. He looked at Dalton. Chris’ face was flushed and his voice shaky. “No one here has security clearance for what I have to work on and I have no time. I can’t stress that enough, there is no time.”
Dalton looked at Nick and said, “I’m calling the boss again. I’m not sure they understand our situation here.”
Nick looked at J.T. and said, “Now we find out how valuable you are. The CIA wants Mason. Can you give him to them?”
Chris interrupted before J.T. could answer. “Does this Mason know where the underground lab is in Geneva? Would he tell you? Could you find out? I have to know! I have to know like four hours ago! For the love of God, we have to stop them!”
Nick fully expected Chris to break out in tears. He was near panic and none of them understood why.
*****
The Director was expecting hourly updates on the bombing in Geneva, the jet that was shot down in the Ukraine, and the search for the underground lab in Geneva. He also expected Benson’s assessment of what Elliott was discovering in the DIANA code anomalies.
Benson had sparse clues to follow in locating the lab. He summoned the tech assigned to identify and follow the two calls placed by Dr. Gustoff Kyser during his lunch break in Malaysia yesterday. One call had been to a number in Geneva, one to New York. The New York number had then made two calls: one to Paris and one to Chicago. The Chicago number then called a number in Lead, South Dakota. The Geneva number never made another call. The only reason the NSA was able to track the calls was because Kyser had used a personal phone on an unencrypted channel.
Benson asked the tech, “Do we have the NSA scripts of these calls yet?”
The tech answered, “They just came o
ver, sir. The transcripts are available for your review on Monitor 240.”
Benson opened Monitor 240 on his tablet and read the NSA notes before reading the transcripts. ‘Subsequent attempts to activate the numbers identified in this search have failed. These numbers have switched to an encrypted wave band’.
Benson wasn’t surprised that their only opportunity was going to be tracking the limited calls placed by Kyser during his moment of anger at Elliott’s meeting. Benson was grateful he, at least, had that much. He began to read the transcripts of Kyser’s calls. The magnitude of Kyser’s ego and arrogance was readily apparent and was only surpassed by his total disregard for the consequences of his actions.
The first call was from Dr. Kyser to a Dr. Stramoud in Geneva. Dr. Kyser had said, “It’s a go. Initiate! I’m contacting Mason next. Once the entire series is activated, your location will be discovered. Ultimately, we will be protected. History will remember us, my friend.”
Benson felt a stab of pain in his temples. What were these mad scientists up to?
The second call was Dr. Kyser calling New York. “Mason, I have left the U.S. project. Please complete my new citizenship papers immediately. I have given the initiation order for our project; you may refer to your manual as time progresses.”
Mason responded. “You’ll be richly rewarded, Dr. Kyser. We’ll talk again soon.”
Mason had placed a call to Paris. Voice recognition software could not identify the recipient by his one word greeting of ‘Yes?’ The conversation was short.
Mason simply said, “It has begun.” The call was terminated without a response.
Mason then called a number in Chicago. Voice recognition software identified the recipient as Dominick Guioni.
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 14