The Money Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “Got it,” Gibbs said. “So, how do we find this guy in Mexico?”

  “I’m going to ask him to help me disappear. Again.”

  Knoll’s eyebrows shot up. Gibbs just laughed.

  ***

  Mexico City

  The Following Day

  Alexia Montreal scrolled through various postings in a computer chat room she frequented. The suicide of the American vice president and then, two weeks later, the fatal aneurism suffered by the president, had caused the hacker world to hyperventilate. Conspiracy theories were sprouting like mushrooms in a forest after a rain. They fluctuated from an alien invasion from another galaxy to a secret cabal of Washington operatives staging a coup.

  If her suspicions were correct, the President had died of natural causes. Granted, both the VP and president dying within a short period of time of each other was bound to raise the possibilities of a conspiracy. But she knew the real reason the VP committed suicide. It had to do with a long-term connection with the old KGB and now the FSB. A relationship generated in Pittman’s youth, a fact known by only a few residents within the confines of the Dark Web. She sat back as she stared at her computer.

  Knowledge of this connection was dangerous. Several well-known hackers with knowledge of the connection had gone silent in recent days. She felt comfortable with her safety. Everyone within the community thought she was a man.

  She guarded the myth of being male with the utmost security. Standing five feet nine, Alexia was tall by Western European standards. Born in Spain, both of her parents were stanch supporters of Catalonia, harboring a deep distrust of the government in Madrid. After completing her studies at the University of Barcelona, she worked for an ISP provider as a security analyst until she discovered a more lucrative career. Hacking.

  During the early years of her hacking, she became a member of an invisible group of revolutionaries working toward the demise of the Madrid government. At the time, she called the Latin Quarter of Paris home. She liked the bohemian atmosphere and was able to blend into the culture with ease. However, greed got to her one night, drawing the unwanted attention of the French General Directorate for Internal Security, the DGSI. After a hastily arranged midnight flight out of Charles de Gaulle International airport to Mexico City, she settled in the La Condesa district.

  She was pencil thin and when in public, wore loose fitting clothes. She did not consider herself unattractive, but most people, if they noticed her at all in a crowd, would consider her plain, a perception she fostered with no make-up, oversized glasses and short tousled black hair. She lived alone, no cats or dogs. Too much trouble if she had to disappear suddenly.

  She was staring at her computer screen when an encrypted message arrived in one of her older email addresses.

  Five seconds later, a message appeared in a newer address with the key to the encrypted note.

  She sat back, frowned and tried to decide if she should unencrypt the file. After several moments of indecision, she did.

  The message was short: Seven years ago, you helped with a problem. New problem has arisen. Need to disappear with new ID. Will you assist? Zardoz.

  It was a name from her early days in Mexico City. She assumed he was dead as he had disappeared from the hacker chat rooms years ago. The reappearance of Zardoz offered numerous possibilities.

  The first was the opportunity to add finances to her slowly depleting bank account. Zardoz paid well and promptly.

  Another possibility, someone was setting a trap for her. The appearance of a message from him on the same day she was trying to determine why several members of a select group of hackers disappeared, gave her pause.

  The third possibility she would have to think about. It might be the solution to the larger problem she faced.

  She stared at the message for several minutes. Finally, her need for income was more critical than being paranoid.

  She composed an encrypted message and hit the send key.

  Chapter 16

  Washington, D.C.

  “He hasn’t been seen since he walked out of his office yesterday, Sean.”

  Ryan Clark pressed the cell phone to his ear as he stood in the lobby of the Rothenburg and Sandifer law firm. Additional FBI agents were questioning the various members of the company as Clark spoke to Kruger.

  “Did he say where he was going when he left, Ryan?”

  “No. His admin said after the large man left, Sandifer kept his door closed for about forty-five minutes, then rushed out without saying a word or closing his office door. She said he only leaves the door open if he’s going to return in a few minutes. If he’s leaving for an extended period of time or for the day, the door is closed and locked.”

  “Does he normally tell her where he’s going?”

  “Yeah, but not this time.”

  “Do we have any other sightings of Volkov and Popov?”

  “None. The surveillance video is the only time they’ve been seen.”

  “What about Sandifer’s house?”

  “No one’s home. Neighbors say the wife left around three in the afternoon the same day and hasn’t returned.”

  Kruger frowned, his frustration growing.

  “What about his sons?” he asked.

  “Both are grown and married. Oldest is an attorney in Chicago and the youngest is a doctor living in Dallas. Neither have heard from their parents in a week. Which, by the way, both tell me is not unusual.”

  “Okay, if he’s still alive, we need to find him, Ryan. Check all the airports to see if they flew somewhere.”

  “JR could do it faster.”

  “Yes, but we have to do this one by the book. We have, uh…complications that have to be addressed.”

  Clark did not comment immediately. “Care to explain?”

  “I can’t right now. I will as soon as we understand more.”

  Kruger could not see his expression, but Clark smiled.

  “Okay, got it. I’ll let you know what we find at the airports.”

  “Thanks, Ryan. Sorry to be so vague, I just can’t explain right now.”

  “No problem, talk to you soon.”

  The call ended and Kruger put his phone down on Joseph’s kitchen table. He placed his elbows on the table straddling the phone and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes.

  JR sipped his coffee, then asked, “Why don’t you let me look for Sandifer?”

  Shaking his head, Kruger looked at JR. “Until we know how Orlov found you, you need to go dark.”

  Gibbs gave a low whistle and looked at Kruger. “You think it’s that bad, Sean?”

  “Too many incidents converging at the same time: Jolene Sander’s murder with a Russian nerve agent, Pittman’s suicide, the president’s death, Boris Volkov suddenly appearing at Kyle Sandifer’s office and his vanishing act immediately after the visit. Are they all related? My guess is they are. But how JR fits into this is something I can’t wrap my head around.”

  ***

  Paris, France

  Dmitri Orlov frowned as he listened to his assistant standing in front of his desk. When the man finished, Orlov took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “So, they do not know where he is?”

  Uri Yanovich shook his head. “No.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  Yanovich did not reply.

  Orlov stood and turned to face the window behind his desk.

  “Where are Volkov and Popov now?’ he asked, his eyes tracking pedestrians on the sidewalk.

  “Buffalo, New York, waiting on instructions.”

  “Tell them to go on to Toronto and then have Popov fly to Mexico City. We have too many loose ends right now. We need to tie up a few.”

  “Yes, sir. What about Sandifer?”

  “He is a minor player, but will need to be dealt with at the proper time. The hacker in Mexico City worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “He knows too much.”

  Yanovich remained quiet.
>
  “Anyone who would provide the information he gave us, just for money, would also be willing to sell it to the Americans. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  “Remember, he did not contact you specifically, Dmitri.”

  “No, you are correct, he did not. But he knew enough to get this information to the right person. We have to deal with it. In addition, a certain individual in Moscow feels this person in Mexico is a potential problem we don’t want or need at the moment. It is now my problem to resolve.”

  “What about the FBI agent?”

  “Kruger?”

  Yanovich nodded.

  “Plans are in place. The individual assigned to the task is just waiting for me to give him the go-ahead.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Soon, my dear Uri, soon.”

  Chapter 17

  Mexico City

  A Week Later

  In addition to Jimmie Gibbs’ accomplishments in swimming, he had a natural talent for languages. The melting pot of different cultures in Southern California helped stimulate Jimmie’s love of language. By the time he joined the military, Jimmie could pass for a resident of multiple Mexican communities utilizing the proper dialect and accent.

  The Navy recognized his talent and before sending him to Seal training, immersed him in multiple language schools. Now in his late thirties, Jimmie was fluent in Spanish, Catalonian, French, German, working toward fluency in Arabic and Farsi and conversational Russian.

  Sitting in a small café in the Condesa section of Mexico City, it reminded him of the bistros in the Latin Quarter of Paris. Except for the local flora, the art deco architecture felt like sitting in the 5th or 6th arrondissement of Paris. Jimmie was in this particular establishment, not because it reminded him of Paris, but because JR identified it as one of the locations the Mexico City hacker accessed the internet.

  With Jimmie’s ability to speak with a local accent, the team utilized him as their point man. On the fourth day of his observation, he received a text message from JR indicating the hacker was at his location and accessing the web.

  Jimmie discreetly scanned the small room and observed only one person using a computer. A female. He calmly stood, threw a 200 peso note on the table and walked out of the café. Now across the street, with the front of the bistro still in sight, he pulled out his cell phone and called JR. His call was answered on the second ring.

  “JR, the only person in the café on a computer was a woman.”

  “Huh…”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means she has perpetuated the illusion of being male for over ten years.”

  “So, he is a she.”

  “It would appear so. Did you see where she came from?”

  “No, I saw her come in but was looking for a guy. I didn’t pay too much attention to her. She doesn’t dress like your typical Mexican thirty-something female.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Loose pants, cotton long-sleeved pullover, floppy hat. The way she moves is male, but I heard her order her meal. Definitely female.”

  JR remained silent for a few moments. “Is Sandy close?”

  “He can be. Why?”

  “You two need to follow her and see where she lives. If I know the location, I can determine her name.”

  “Most of the residences around here are apartments, JR.”

  “Well, that makes it more challenging, but it can be done.”

  “Okay, we’ll make it happen.”

  Jimmie ended the call and sent a text message to Knoll. Five minutes later, he saw the big man a block from his location. He sent another text telling him their target was a tall woman with short black hair, glasses, tan hat. He observed Knoll consult his phone and nod once. Keeping his eyes on the front door of the restaurant, Gibbs walked into a small bookstore across from the café and started to browse.

  Fifteen minutes later, the woman exited the café with a backpack on her shoulder and turned left. Gibbs casually walked out of the bookstore and followed her from the opposite side of the street. He passed Knoll, neither acknowledging the other’s presence.

  After walking several blocks, the woman stopped to look into the window of a clothing store. Gibbs recognized the move. She was trying to determine if anyone might be following her. He kept on walking on the opposite side of the street until he was past her. He turned a corner and waited for Sandy to let him know what direction she had taken.

  Jimmie wore his standard dress: cargo shorts, open linen shirt with a tan t-shirt underneath and sandals. With a need to be flexible in his appearance, he had tucked his hair under a baseball cap. If spotted, he could let Knoll keep track of the woman as he took his linen shirt off and let his hair down. From a distance, he would be a different person.

  The woman made one more stop, after which Jimmie took over the surveillance. Three blocks later, she walked into a two-story apartment building.

  With the apartment building’s GPS coordinates sent to JR, they settled in to keep tabs on the building, Knoll in the back, Jimmie out front.

  ***

  JR looked up from his laptop and watched Kruger pace. They were still at the Mexico City Marriott Reforma Hotel. It was the team’s headquarters and the location JR used to set up his computers.

  “I’ve found her.”

  Kruger stopped pacing and turned toward JR.

  “Who is she?”

  “Alexia Montreal. She’s a Spanish ex-pat with an impressive resume, both academic and French DGSI.”

  “Why the French DGSI?”

  “Not sure, but they have the equivalent of a Be-On-The-Look-Out issued for her through INTERPOL.”

  Kruger frowned. “Mexico is part of INTERPOL, so why would she keep her real name.”

  “Twenty-one million individuals in and around the Greater Mexico City area. She’s hiding in plain sight.”

  “Huh...” Kruger pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shall we go meet your Mexico City hacker?”

  JR nodded as he placed his laptops into a backpack.

  ***

  “Her apartment is the last one on the left side of the hallway. I used a snake camera under the door about ten minutes ago. She’s staring at a laptop on a small breakfast bar in the kitchen area. The place is small, looks French.” Jimmie Gibbs briefed Kruger and JR at the top of the staircase leading to the second floor of the apartment building. “Knoll’s got the back of the building covered.”

  Kruger nodded. He turned to JR, “Do you want to knock on the door, or have Jimmie and I breach it?”

  “She’ll have an escape plan in place if we knock on the door. I would.”

  Jimmie smiled. “I’ll call Sandy.”

  Ten minutes later, Knoll, Gibbs and Kruger were stationed outside of Alexia’s apartment door. Jimmie placed small breaching charges on the outside of each door hinge. With Knoll, Kruger and himself prepared, he touched an icon on his cell phone and the charges detonated with a muffled thump. As the charges took out the hinges, Knoll shouldered his way into the apartment, followed by Gibbs and Kruger, each with weapons drawn.

  A surprised Alexia Montreal sat wide-eyed as the three men rushed into her apartment and restrained her. JR followed and took control of her computer. He turned to her and said, “Sorry, Alexia, we need answers to a few questions.”

  She stared at JR as Knoll placed flexi-cuffs on her wrists and Gibbs positioned a strip of light-colored surgical tape over her mouth before she could cry for help. JR secured her laptop in his backpack and looked around the room. Seeing what he needed, he disconnected the modem from the wall, placed it in his backpack and followed the three men escorting their detainee toward the staircase at the end of the hall.

  As they headed down, he heard numerous doors open and close swiftly. He grinned. Curiosity in Mexico was still a dangerous habit.

  ***

  The FBI Gulfstream G550 lifted off from Mexico City International Airport two hours later with one a
dditional passenger aboard for the return to the United States. JR sat across from Alexia and asked, “Why did you suddenly let down your protocol for masking your location?”

  Alexia shrugged, looking at the floor of the aircraft. Her restraints had been removed and she sat in a chair toward the rear of the plane. She was offered water and something to eat, but declined both.

  “You basically let me find you.”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  She looked up at JR and said, “I am in trouble and need your help.”

  JR tilted his head to the side and stared at Alexia. “Really? What kind of trouble?”

  “I did something stupid a few years ago and now it could get me killed.”

  “What did you do?” Kruger asked.

  She shook her head and stared at the floor again. “When I got your message, I thought you might help me if you found me. You found me.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

  Smiling slightly, she looked up at JR, “You would have thought it a trap.”

  JR chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He looked over at Kruger. “Do you have any questions?”

  Kruger sat in the chair in front of Alexia. He smiled slightly. “I’m sorry for the way this was handled, but we needed you out of Mexico City.”

  “I know,” she nodded.

  “Alexia, I’m with the FBI. We need to know about your involvement with Dmitri Orlov.”

  “I have never heard of this person.”

  With a slight smile, Kruger changed the question.

  “We need to know about your involvement with the Russian FSB.”

  “They paid for information. I needed money.”

  Gibbs was sitting a few seats away and laughed out loud. The woman glared at him, but kept silent.