by Ted Halstead
So, that explained why Alina had failed to spot the police vehicle’s approach until it was too late.
It also suggested this policeman was no fool.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” the policeman demanded.
“Officer, we’re with Brightlink Cable Services,” Kharlov said. “We were sent here to repair an outage.”
“You said we. Is someone else down there?” the policeman asked.
“Yes, sir. We always work in pairs. Can I show you our work order?” Kharlov asked. They had discussed this scenario in advance, and agreed that their documents had to include both of them. So, they would escape or not together.
“Reach for it slowly,” the policeman replied. Kharlov’s eyes had now adjusted well enough that he could see the policeman had a pistol trained on him.
Kharlov’s hand went very slowly to the upper right pocket of his utility coverall. He was careful to make sure that a folded piece of paper was the only thing visible as his hand reemerged.
As planned, the other item now in Kharlov’s hand was the capsule Alina had given both of them in case they were about to be captured.
“Walk four steps forward, and keep your hands up,” the policeman ordered.
Kharlov did as he was told.
“Slowly place the paper on the ground. Then walk backwards three steps,” the policeman ordered.
Kharlov obeyed the order, and then stood stock still.
The policeman kept his pistol steady as he walked towards the paper. It never wavered as he retrieved it and then walked backwards to within a few steps of his vehicle.
The policeman glanced at the paper and then shook his head.
“When I saw your van I called and asked if there were any cable or Internet outages in the area. I was told no. How do you explain that?” the policeman asked.
“The line we’re repairing is a dedicated high-speed Internet fiber optic cable. It’s only used by businesses, and none of them are open yet. Whoever you talked to doesn’t know about the outage because so far customers haven’t complained yet. My boss sent us out, though, because pretty soon they will. Just call the company and ask for him. His name’s right on the form,” Kharlov said.
The policeman glanced again at the form, and then at Kharlov.
Then he shook his head.
“We’ll sort this out at the station,” he said, tossing a pair of handcuffs to Kharlov’s feet with his left hand, while keeping the pistol steady in his right.
“Put those on, and then tell whoever’s down there to come up,” the policeman ordered.
Part of Kharlov admired the policeman’s instincts, which were spot on in doubting Kharlov was who and what he claimed.
A much larger part regretted that he would now have to choose between putting on the handcuffs and taking the capsule.
“Take no action,” came Alina’s terse voice over his earpiece.
“Officer, please reconsider calling my boss,” Kharlov said. “I’m not asking you to call some bogus number. Call the company direct and ask for him by name. He really is a supervisor there.”
The policeman shook his head, annoyed. “Put the cuffs on. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to add resisting arrest to…”
He never finished the sentence.
A slim arm wrapped around his neck, and after a brief struggle the policeman was lying on the ground unconscious.
Kharlov was already at the manhole, looking down towards Neda. “Let’s go,” he said.
As soon as Neda emerged, Kharlov replaced the manhole cover.
Both of them then hurried towards Alina, who was dragging the policeman towards his vehicle. Kharlov helped her get the man’s limp form into a prone, face up position in the back seat.
Alina pulled a syringe from one of her pockets, and removed its cap. Next, she swiftly injected its contents into the policeman’s neck.
Alina took out a piece of paper from another pocket, and used the syringe’s needle to attach it to the policeman’s uniform where it was plainly visible.
The policeman had a body camera, which Alina removed. She gestured for Kharlov to do the same with the camera attached to the front windshield. That took more effort, but in moments Kharlov had it secured in his bag.
Closing the patrol car’s rear door behind her, Alina began walking towards their van without a backward glance.
Kharlov had closed the front door and was about to follow, when heard the radio in the vehicle’s front making noise. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but could guess.
The policeman was being asked for a status update.
Kharlov opened the door, keyed the radio receiver’s handset, and in his best attempt at an imitation of the policeman’s voice said, “10-24. Nothing here to report. Resuming patrol.”
The radio was silent for a moment and Kharlov held his breath. Did whoever was on the other end actually know this policeman? He doubted his attempt at impersonation had been very good.
“10-4,” was the reply Kharlov had been hoping for, and he felt a wave of relief when it was the one he got.
Kharlov replaced the handset and closed the door behind him.
A few seconds later, Kharlov was moving towards the van. He was impressed to see that Alina had used his time on the radio to remove the utility company logo on its side and replace both the front and rear license plates.
Kharlov might have been less impressed if he had known the plates had been held in place by magnets designed for rapid replacement.
Alina started the van’s engine as Kharlov climbed into the passenger seat. He looked back and saw that Neda was already in the rear seat.
From Alina’s expression, Kharlov thought it was fortunate Alina had been occupied with the van’s logo and plates while he’d been dealing with the radio call. It would be a long walk – and swim – back to Moscow on his own.
It took less than fifteen minutes for them to cross to the mainland.
The tension radiating from Alina made it seem much longer.
Kharlov understood. They had to cross two separate bridges to reach the town of Cocoa, where the rocket they were hoping to destroy had been built.
Businessmen might have their limitations, Kharlov thought. But at least in such matters, money could be counted on to make them do the obvious. It made sense to build a huge rocket as close to where it would be launched as possible.
The bridges made Kharlov tense too. They would be the perfect place to apprehend three foreign saboteurs.
There would be no hope of escape.
But unlike Alina, Kharlov doubted the police were aware of their actions. He had thought of telling Alina about his brief radio conversation with the police dispatcher, but a look at her had convinced Kharlov it would be better to wait until she asked.
After they crossed the second bridge without incident, though, Alina appeared to decide that for the moment at least they were safe.
Keeping her eyes on the road ahead, Alina said just one word in a low, furious voice.
“Report.”
Kharlov nodded. “I will begin at the end, because it is most relevant to our escape.”
Then he recounted his conversation with the police dispatcher.
Alina glanced at him thoughtfully. “You said the ’10-24’ code you used meant ‘assignment completed’ and that you used it because you believed the policeman had been sent specifically to investigate the dust plume you caused.”
Kharlov nodded silently.
“And how did you happen to know that code?” Alina asked.
Kharlov shrugged. “You kept repeating there was a good chance we would encounter police during this mission. As a smuggler in separatist Ukraine, I often found it useful to understand police communications, and they all use codes of some type. Here they are not even secret. I was able to look them up online.”
“Well, that may have bought us some time,” Alina said.
Kharlov relaxed fractionally. Was he off the
hook?
“Now, let’s talk about the explosives you used in that tunnel. As team leader, I know exactly what we were authorized to bring on this mission. Explosives weren’t on that list for a reason. Where did you get them?” Alina asked.
No. Not off the hook.
“First, it was a single charge, designed to breach a reinforced steel door for hostage rescue. I brought it with me to Moscow after our last mission in Ukraine, “ Kharlov said.
Alina looked at him in disbelief. “So, it was in your checked baggage all the way from Moscow to Washington, and then you brought it into our Embassy?”
“I was a smuggler for many years. Do you really think concealing a single small charge was such a challenge? Besides, nobody at the Embassy even asked us to open our suitcases. Apparently we were expected,” Kharlov said.
Alina shook her head. “Didn’t it occur to you that examination of the explosive’s residue could lead straight back to us?”
“How?” Kharlov asked stubbornly. “You don’t think I’m dumb enough to use a Russian device, do you? It was German. And no, not East German. It was made just a few years ago. If someone in the FBI is very capable, they will trace it back to a shipment stolen from a German company supplying GSG-9.”
“GSG-9,” Alina repeated. “The tactical unit within the German Federal Police. And do you happen to know what became of the rest of that shipment?”
“Not all of it,” Kharlov replied. “But several charges had already been used in thefts from jewelry shops and bank branches in Germany and Belgium when I obtained the one I just used. Zero connection to Russia.”
Alina nodded, but said nothing.
“Look, I’ll admit I didn’t tell you about the charge because I knew you wouldn’t let me use it. But without it, we couldn’t have succeeded in this mission,” Kharlov said.
Alina sighed. “You have a lot to learn. First, we don’t know yet whether the virus will work. More important, though, the top priority for this mission was not success. It was avoiding detection of Russian involvement. We have a backup plan in place in California.”
Neda’s eyes flashed as she looked up at the mention of Vasilyev and Grishkov in California, but she stayed silent.
“Fine. So why did you bother saving us, then?” Kharlov asked.
“Idiot,” Alina said, shaking her head. “The capsules were always a last-ditch option, for use only if we were all about to be captured. It’s likely your dead bodies would have eventually have been identified as those of FSB agents. Our efforts at disguise were designed to make an image match difficult, not to fool a full forensic examination.”
Kharlov frowned. “We were being followed by the authorities in Washington. Won’t they notice our sudden disappearance, and perhaps connect us to this incident?”
Alina shook her head again. “As far as the Americans are concerned, you didn’t just disappear. You don’t need the details. So without you two in their possession, either dead or even worse alive and able to answer questions, there is nothing to connect the rocket’s destruction to Russia.”
Alina paused. “It should have occurred to you that successfully uploading the virus to the rocket made your rescue imperative. Two dead Russian agents near a buried fiber optic cable would be bad enough. But if that cable was found to be the means for the rocket’s destruction?”
Alina shook her head. “As we already discussed, that outcome was and is unacceptable.”
“Fine,” Kharlov said. “But what about the policeman? What did you inject into him? And what was on that piece of paper you attached to his uniform?”
Alina sighed with exasperation. “Neda, I have to express my admiration. Your husband’s life is at stake in all this, and I have yet to hear a single question from you.”
Neda smiled softly. “Don’t give me too much credit. Kharlov is asking the same questions I would have, so there’s no need for me to speak.”
Alina grunted, and turned right.
“Very well. I injected the policeman with a powerful sedative. The note was a warning I had already prepared to avoid attempting to wake him with a stimulant, because it would interact with our drug and risk his life.”
Kharlov raised an eyebrow and asked, “Isn’t risking the American policeman’s life also against orders?”
Alina shook her head. “The threat is empty, and designed to buy us more time. As soon as the policeman starts talking, the hunt for us will intensify. In particular, they will know to look for two women and a man in a van.”
“You’re right. We need to switch vehicles as soon as possible!” Kharlov exclaimed.
Alina gave Kharlov a look that he thought, with a flush, could best be described as pitying.
“That is our first destination. A vehicle is ready for us, and we will be there shortly.”
“So that’s why we’re travelling west? I thought Key West was south,” Kharlov said sullenly.
“We are no longer going to Key West. The scale and speed of the search about to be launched for us makes that impossible,” Alina said.
Kharlov shrugged. “Just as well. I was never enthusiastic about an escape route that included an eleven thousand meter long bridge, which I understand is the only way to drive to Key West. So, will we take a boat from somewhere else on the Florida coast?”
Alina shook her head. “I considered that, but no. It is the next obvious option, and once the policeman begins talking, the search for us will be in the hands of the FBI. They will cover the obvious first.”
“Very well,” Kharlov said. “So, where are we going?”
Alina smiled. “Laredo.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shanghai, China
Chen Li Na had accomplished two things by uploading the video she had captured of the Gateway-hunting drone. Of course, it had been critical to warn Gateway users that the government was using a new means to find them.
But in a way, the footage of the drone's silent search had been even more important as a motivator. Small, black, and relentless, its progress in the dark of night was the stuff of nightmares.
What sort of government felt comfortable adding this creature to its arsenal?
Chen had been gratified to see the flood of requests from other Gateway users for something concrete to do in response. Today they were going to take their first real step.
Most people in Western countries had the vague idea that hacker toolkits were only available on the "Dark Web." Far from it. For months anyone with a Gateway had been able to access the most basic of what hackers called toolkits. Software written to allow penetrating and attacking networks, toolkits would typically have been no great threat.
After all, toolkits had been available in Western countries for years. Many were even free.
In fact, much hacking software was widely distributed and bounties paid by major companies for its successful use.
As long as "success" fit the definition of those companies. That meant "white-hat" hackers identifying vulnerabilities companies could fix before "black-hat" hackers exploited them.
It didn't work that way in China, though. Hacker toolkits had long been available only to military and civilian intelligence agencies.
Fat and happy behind the Great Firewall, Chinese companies and government agencies believed they were safe from online attacks.
Now they were going to discover how wrong they were.
The classic problem of coordinating nationwide action was the need to maintain security. The only way to achieve real security was to use the time-honored revolutionary strategy- the cell. The members of each cell were only able to initiate contact with those within it and did not know about activities outside their own cell.
When Chen uploaded the footage of the Gateway-hunting drone, she discovered there was an organization coordinating the activities of those cells.
When it congratulated her, gave her an advanced hacker toolkit and an assignment.
And told her the organization's name.
Evidently, Chen thought, Forward's leadership had decided that only a genuine revolutionary would reveal the existence of such drones.
And Forward already knew all about her prowess in writing software.
One other detail Forward knew impressed Chen, and for the first time gave her real hope that the Chinese government might be vulnerable after all.
Forward had specific, detailed information on how a particular government system could be accessed remotely. Ordinarily, learning this would have required probes that would have been detected, and the vulnerability then quickly addressed.
Chen could see only one explanation. Someone with both access and expertise at the relevant government office had provided that information to Forward.
The hack that was about to be executed had been Chen's work. The content she was about to see displayed, though, had been provided by someone at Forward.
If it worked.
Chen was in a taxi stuck in midday traffic, just as she had expected. Traffic was always bad in downtown Shanghai.
Also, as always, digital signs at the intersections both before and behind her displayed the names and "crimes" of particular citizens. Ones the authorities had decided needed to be shamed into changing their ways.
Until, at exactly noon, the messages on the signs all changed.
Now the display was replaced by a single line of text displayed for three seconds, immediately followed by another:
Forward Says
Stop Slandering Citizens
Allow Free Elections
Permit Free Speech
Stop Censorship
End Party Tyranny
Then the display flickered and went dark as power was cut to the entire system.
Chen fought hard to keep a smile from her face, but it wasn't easy. Part of her code had prevented a power shutdown commanded by system software.
Someone had been forced to find a physical switch.
Chen had focused the camera in her phone on the sign the entire time and concentrated on capturing the best possible image. Part of her, though, had been waiting for the taxi driver to object.