Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 02 - Peeking Duck

by Daniel Ganninger

  “Let’s call it a hacker hub. Lee and Alex will have some work to do.”

  “Like what?” I inquired, slightly regretting the question.

  “They’re going to hack into Olvary’s finances. We’re going to break the guy,” he seemed to yell through his headset microphone.

  “And how is that going to help us?”

  “This is the part I was talking about. Now don’t freak out, okay?” I nodded my head that I would not. “When we get to Cape Town and to the ferry terminal, I’m betting that we’re going to get our instructions on the meeting place. I bet they’re going to have something there so we can talk to Olvary, either a number or a phone. They wouldn’t leave a paper trail if they’re smart. When I talk to Olvary I’m going to play hardball and change the plans. They’re going to meet us where we want.”

  I immediately knew what this meant. “But that will put Jane and Maddie in danger. There is no telling what they might do to them,” I said emphatically.

  “Don’t worry. I have it thought out. When I contact them from Paris…”

  I stopped him midsentence. “What if we can’t contact them?” I yelled.

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take. They want Lee too badly to jeopardize not getting him. He’s too important for their cause,” Galveston stated coolly, rebuffing my comment. “When I contact them in Paris, we’ll have control of his money, or at least it will seem that way.”

  “You’ve lost your freakin’ mind,” I yelled again.

  “You said all in, remember? Keep your shorts on. We’ll have the leverage, and we can set up a meeting on our terms. If we don’t, and we meet them in their spot, we are most certainly dead.”

  His words struck me to my nerves because I knew they were true. There was no way Olvary would let us leave alive—that fact was clear.

  “What if we get the authorities involved in Paris and let them take care of it?” I asked.

  “Too risky if it’s on their turf. Don’t forget, we smuggled a Chinese national into the country on a false passport. Where do you think we’ll end up? No, we have to keep Lee safe, and we’ll get INTERPOL involved on our terms, and in our meeting spot.”

  I was impressed how well he had thought this insane plan through.

  “Alright, I see your point. What happens when we get them to meet where we want?”

  “I have another plan for that, but let’s get this first phase down. If all goes accordingly, then I’ll tell you the rest. No point in having you question me,” Galveston said with a smile.

  “Agreed. I’m here for you, as horrible as that sounds.”

  “Aw, you big lug,” Galveston said hitting me in the arm, “you really do care.”

  I could only respond with a smirk.

  The helicopter was finally nearing our next waypoint, the AG Titan, where it would refuel before the final leg to Cape Town. I couldn’t quit thinking about Jane and knew the crush Galveston had on Maddie was causing him to worry about her. We had to make it work, but we also had to prepare ourselves for the unknown problems that invariably crop up in these situations.

  The helicopter landed roughly on the deck of the AG Titan, giving Lee and myself a brief reprieve from the turbulence of the air. We were soon airborne again, however, and as I tried to calm my stomach again, I played our plan out in my head.

  -Chapter 56-

  The helicopter chopped its way across the now fully darkened sky. The sight was ominous, nothing but blackness above and below, with no chance of a landing if an emergency arose.

  The pure exhaustion from the journey finally allowed us to sleep as the helicopter continued to cut through the air on the way to Cape Town. Suddenly, the morning dawn lit the cabin and awakened us from our slumber.

  I spotted land, far off in the distance, as the clouds gave way to nothing but sunshine. Galveston noticed my anticipation of an end to our harrowing air ordeal.

  We landed slightly before noon at Cape Town International in the country of South Africa. Lee made it through customs without incident, taking on the role of Andrew Kim like a pro.

  A group of rundown taxis were eagerly awaiting passengers outside the terminal building. Galveston flagged one down and threw our gear in the trunk.

  “V&A Waterfront, the ferry terminal,” he shouted quickly at the cabbie, who threw the car into drive and sped off.

  It was a fairly short drive from the airport, and we arrived at the ferry terminal in no time. I was sure we were being watched, and Galveston agreed it was highly likely. He figured Olvary would have a man at the terminal to watch the locker and report when a couple of guys opened it.

  We didn‘t spot anything or anyone out of the ordinary, but just in case, we had Lee wait in the car with instructions on where to go and what to do if we hadn’t returned after fifteen minutes. We also instructed him and the driver to speed away, like a bat out of hell, if anyone tried to approach the car. A half-payment in advance to the taxi driver ensured he would listen to Lee’s instructions.

  Galveston and I approached the ferry terminal cautiously. It was a bustle of activity with a lot of badly dressed, European tourists milling about, waiting to take the ferry from the waterfront over to Robben Island.

  Robben Island was the site of a former maximum security prison for political prisoners during South Africa’s dark days of apartheid. It was notoriously famous for imprisoning Nelson Mandela for over eighteen years. It seemed an intentional choice to receive our instructions at a former prison site.

  As we moved about through the throng of tourists, Galveston noticed the bank of lockers. I separated from Galveston and blended in with the tourists, while he recovered whatever was in the locker. We didn’t want to risk the chance of being accosted as a pair.

  Olvary had made a mistake in picking this location because the mass of security in the terminal would stifle any kidnapping attempt. The location showed a bit of Olvary’s arrogance. He could have easily led us to a remote location where his henchmen could have picked us up. It gave me hope that because of that arrogance he would fall into the spines of our plan.

  Galveston walked to locker 427 and saw there was a padlock on it with a dial. He carefully pulled out a sheet of paper and nervously dialed the numbers 25 18 32. He paused as the lock clicked open, removed it, and proceeded to open the latch with care.

  Galveston didn’t know what would happen next; an explosion, a fuzzy animal with large teeth, a booby trap of some kind? He pulled the door back and peered inside. Luckily, there was no explosion, nor did a large animal jump out. Instead, at the bottom of the locker lay a bulky manila folder. He took it and pulled the contents. Inside was a map of Paris, a printed instruction list, and a cell phone. It was the cell phone we had hoped for and counted on to be there. Our plan had just gotten a little easier.

  Galveston read through the instructions and looked at the map with his back to the locker, just in case anyone wanted to jump him in surprise. The paper was succinctly written and instructed us to bring Lee to the drop point, an area near Clichy in northeast Paris. The exchange point was at a commercial rail yard and clearly circled in red on the map. The instructions stated we were to leave Lee by a red tanker car. Olvary’s men would approach from the other direction, and Maddie and Jane would walk to Lee where they would be exchanged. If any police or other authorities were seen they would shoot the women. The last line on the instructions simply stated, rather ominously, ‘then you are free to go’.

  “Fat chance,” Galveston thought, knowing he and I would be the ones gunned down, along with Maddie and Jane.

  The cell phone had its own set of instructions taped to it. The phone was to be used to contact Olvary when we arrived in Paris, under the time deadline of course. It was then that the meeting time would be set.

  “Perfect,” Galveston thought again, “that just made things even easier.”

  Galveston placed the cell phone in his pant pocket and put the written instructions back in the folder with the map. He s
canned the area carefully. He immediately noticed a man sitting by himself with a newspaper blocking his hands. Galveston could tell he was furiously pecking away at a phone with one hand, while trying to hold the paper with his other. The man was no tourist and looked clearly out of place.

  Galveston gave me a head nod, and I saw from his eyes the direction of the man. I too realized how out of place the man looked. This was one of the men Galveston had warned me about, and he looked like he was a local.

  I strolled behind the man, out of his line of sight. He had no idea I was standing there because he was still busy clicking away at his phone. I waited patiently on Galveston’s next move, until finally, the man stopped and looked over at Galveston. With a bit of flare, and knowing the man was watching, Galveston took the manila folder and began to rip it up into tiny pieces. He took the pieces, tossed them back in the locker, and clamped the lock back down. We wouldn’t be going to the location on the now destroyed map.

  It was enough drama to catch the man off guard, and I noticed he wasn‘t sure what to do next. The man began to again peck feverishly at his phone, realizing what Galveston had done. It was the smoking gun we needed. The first trap had been set.

  Galveston waited until the man had finished his latest text message before beginning a slow walk toward the exit of the terminal. The local man acted confused. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the man was probably thinking. Galveston continued out the door as the man got up to race after him.

  I took a deep breath and began jogging toward the man. “This is going to hurt,” I thought to myself as I picked up speed. Just as the man was nearing the exit I barreled into him, leading with my shoulder. I felt a sting of pain as I hit the floor, and the man crumpled beside me. The force of the collision caused him to lose his grip on his phone and his paper, sending them sprawling across the concrete. The sound of the blow stopped many of the tourists, and out of concern, they raced to both of us on the ground.

  “Claire,” I yelled in some sort of pseudo-Irish voice while on the ground. “Claire, don’t leave me. I won’t do it again.”

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” I said to the local man, who was clearly dazed by our encounter.

  I attempted to help him up as the other tourists gathered around to do the same. In the confusion, I reached for his paper and the phone, sliding the latter into my coat pocket. I shoved the wad of paper into his hand as he got to his feet.

  “So sorry, sir, but I must catch my wife. She’s going to leave me,” I yelled at him. “I’ll be back to help you,” I lied.

  The man moved wearily on his feet, and I knew it was my time to exit before the security personnel began to show up.

  “Claire, Claire,” I yelled again, waving my arms in the air as I raced toward the front door and out into the sunlight. I left the man under the consolation of the tourists.

  I exited the ferry terminal and cut down the side of the building where Galveston had the taxi repositioned. I had just pulled off a bold and dangerous move, but with the thought of Jane’s safety in mind, we needed that phone. It could give us valuable information about Olvary’s location. Then again, it could be worthless, and I had just jeopardized the entire operation for nothing. Only when Lee and Alex could do their work on it would I know if our gamble had paid off.

  I jumped headfirst into the taxi and we sped off. I peered back to see a few people beginning to emerge from the exit, but no sirens. As the adrenaline began to wane from my body, the pain in my shoulder replaced it.

  Galveston was grinning from ear to ear, like a proud father whose son had just crushed some other poor kid in football.

  “I’ve taught you well, grasshopper,” he laughed, giving me a punch in my sore arm.

  “Why couldn’t you have run into him and let me rip up the folder?” I inquired.

  “You never asked,” he replied. “Plus I didn’t know what was going to be in it. I had a good idea, but I didn’t really know.”

  I pulled the phone from my pocket and handed it to Galveston. “I hope it was worth it. I’m going to need some hazard pay.”

  “Lee will make sure Olvary pays us back for putting you through it,” he said with a sly smile.

  I was beginning to realize the enormity of his plan. It might just work, or we could just go down in a tremendous ball of flames. By now, it was anyone‘s guess.

  The taxi dropped us off back at the airport, and we got to the gate without any more incidents.

  The flight was eleven hours from Cape Town to Paris, and we wouldn’t leave for a few hours. South Africa was just another country I didn’t want to stay in long. I finally relaxed when our flight was called, and we boarded the plane.

  Lee was itching to get at the phone, but he would have to wait until he had the proper equipment, and for that we had to be in Paris. Lee’s passport probably wasn’t going to last us much longer either. We just hoped it would get us into Paris before it got flagged by the CIA. Only time would tell. For now we just had to force ourselves to rest—again.

  -Chapter 57-

  Our Air France flight from Cape Town touched down early in the morning as scheduled at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. We were herded like cattle to the customs area. We would test the ongoing legitimacy of Lee’s passport next.

  Galveston decided Lee should go through the line between us, in the hopes of convincing the customs officer we were three Americans on a business trip. If the CIA had been alerted about the passport, we would be sunk on the spot. Galveston coached us to go through the line without a bit of nervousness. He recommended we just look bored.

  Without trepidation, Galveston approached a serious looking French Customs officer and gave over his passport. The officer only glanced at him once, asking why he was coming into France. Galveston lied and said we were here on business and would be staying only a few days.

  Lee was up next, and I held my breath behind him. He told the officer the same thing as he handed over his passport. The officer studied the document closely and scanned it into the computer. I stood behind Lee, trying to look bored as Galveston instructed, but the blood was beginning to rush from my face.

  The officer gave another look at his monitor and gave back the passport. “Welcome to France,” he said without making eye contact with Lee. I let out an audible gasp.

  I was up next, and as long as I didn‘t scream, “We’re the ones you’re looking for,” I figured we would make it through. I began to hand over my passport, and I noticed my hands shaking like a leaf. I stifled a small chuckle. “So much for looking bored,” I thought. The officer looked at my passport, scanned it, and handed it back. “Thank you,” I said in a meek voice. He only grunted and called the next person in line.

  I joined Galveston and Lee outside the customs area. “It starts now,” Galveston began, like a coach getting his team pumped up for the big game. “There is no turning back. We have to keep to the timeline or this thing ain’t going to work.”

  Lee nodded his head. “Don’t worry, I am ready,” he said.

  I nodded in agreement, too. The next trap was set to begin.

  We all walked out of the terminal with an air of confidence. It was a demeanor we would have to maintain to pull off the entirety of our plan.

  I spotted Alex standing next to a stone column, looking dapper in a gray sport coat and designer sunglasses. I wondered why he didn‘t have his black leather jacket and clunky boots, and then realized that he was preparing to meet his old guy crush. Alex spotted us walking toward him, but immediately noticed the man accompanying us.

  “Hi ya, Alex,” I said giving him a wave of my hand.

  “Hey, Roger,” he said dismissively and pushed past me.

  “Good to see you, too,” I responded as he flew toward Lee.

  “Mr. Lee, or should I say, Peeking Duck. What a pleasure it is to meet you. I am a big fan. My name is Alex Judokowski,” he said like a giddy schoolgirl, and stuck out his hand.

  Lee was taken aback by the rush of
adulation, but returned the gesture politely. “Yes, Alex, or should I say, Gold Zeus.”

  Alex literally burst with a strange, nervous, and slightly disturbing giggle.

  “Alex, you want a lock of his hair or something?” Galveston asked.

  Alex flashed Galveston a dirty look while Lee looked confused.

  “I hate to break up this love fest,” I said, garnering another dirty look from Alex. “We need to get moving. You’ll have time for more pleasantries later, Alex.”

  Our colleague looked dejected, but understood the importance of time. “Okay,” he said like a deflated puppy, “the car is over here.”

  “Good. Do you have everything in place?” Galveston asked Alex.

  “Yup, everything we need. A secure room is all set up in a hotel near here. I’ve already set up our basic process to bounce through proxies, wingates, and shells,” Alex said confidently.

  Proxies, wingates, and shells were simple ways for someone to stay anonymous on the internet. It involved bouncing off of networks so that your exact location was never known.

  Galveston and I just simply shrugged our shoulders. We wouldn’t understand 99% of what Alex or Lee would be doing, but we were glad they were on our team.

  “I’ve already traced a few transactions of this Olvary guy. He isn’t shy about spending his money. I learned he has a private jet, and I’ve already located the transactions he’s made on it through payments, equipment, and the like. It shouldn’t be hard now to get to his bank accounts,” Alex said and shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a piece of gum and threw it in his mouth.

  “Good, I think,” Galveston responded. “If I understood what you were talking about.”

  Alex looked at him like he was crazy. “I can get his bank information, you know, his money.”

  “Clear, sir,” Galveston shot back.

  Alex made it seem too easy, but for him it really was. He was going to do one of the easiest hack techniques; use another firm where a money transaction took place, exploit the information from the purchase, and use that information to access the bank account, or in Olvary’s case, multiple bank accounts.