by J. C. Fields
“Don’t know, but I have a funny feeling you’re going to find out.”
“Damn right I’m going to find out.”
Knoll grinned.
***
Alexia Montreal took it upon herself to rid Joseph and Mary’s home of all the flying insects and bugs that had invaded while the shattered glass door allowed access to the interior. Now covered with a blue tarp and awaiting the arrival of a glass repair company, she busied herself with swatting flies, spraying wasps and capturing elusive moths. Jimmie Gibbs swept the shards of glass and searched for the rifle slug he knew imbedded itself somewhere in the home. He finally found it buried in a hardback book situated on one of Joseph’s numerous bookshelves. He smiled when he read the title: Fredrick Forsyth’s The Day of the Jackal.
Alexia watched him. “Will not your FBI want the place left like it is?”
Gibbs shook his head. “I took the necessary pictures and can claim the glass was a safety hazard. No one’s going to complain. They’ll be more interested in the spot he shot from.”
“What now, Jimmie? I am in this country illegally without ID or passport. Will they arrest me?”
“Not a chance. Sean spoke to Joseph before they left. You are now classified as a material witness and will be provided temporary identification and visa status.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “As of ten minutes ago, you were legally in the United States. A Fed Ex package will be delivered to Sean’s house tomorrow with your paperwork.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she walked over and engulfed him in an embrace. He returned the hug. She whispered in his ear, “When will Sandy be back?”
“Couple of hours. He and Sean are waiting for a team of FBI forensic technicians from St. Louis to take charge of the body. Sean will go on to the hospital and Sandy will come back here.”
“So, we are alone for two hours?”
“At least.”
She took his hand and led him toward the stairs and her bedroom.
***
Kruger packed Stephanie’s clothes and personal items in a small duffle bag he brought from their home.
“You sure you feel up to going home?”
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, this place is driving me crazy.”
“JR told me Mia is doing much better and will be released tomorrow or the next day.”
“I know, a nurse took me to her room this morning. She looks pretty good, considering. Are we going to our house, Sean?”
“Yes, the individual who ran you off the road is no longer a problem. His fingerprints matched prints found in the truck he used to run you and Mia off the road.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, he’s being accompanied by several FBI agents and probably halfway to St. Louis by now.”
He did not lie to her; he just chose not to tell her the man was dead. He would tell her later after she had time to recover further.
JR appeared at the door of Stephanie’s room and asked, “When are you being released, Stephanie?”
She smiled. “Doctor was here a few minutes ago and signed my release form. As soon as they get the paperwork straightened out, I can leave.”
He nodded. “Sean, can I speak to you in the hall?”
Kruger looked at Stephanie, who nodded slightly. He followed JR into the hall.
“What’s up?”
“Did you find him?”
Kruger nodded. “Jimmie found him.”
The computer hacker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Good, I really didn’t want Mia to have to go all the way back to Joseph’s.”
Kruger put his hand on JR’s shoulder. “The houses will be watched twenty-four seven and I’ve hired a local agency who will help the girls for the next few weeks with their personal care and rehab.”
JR swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you would be a good start. But you’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I can do.”
“It gives me a chance to start digging into Dmitri Orlov’s network.”
“Alexia can help.”
“Do you trust her?”
“At first no, but now…” Kruger nodded.
“Any particular reason?”
“You’ll find out.”
The two friends stared at each other for a few moments and went back into the room.
Chapter 33
Springfield, MO
A Week Later
Kruger stared at the ruined Mr. Coffee unit on the credenza behind JR’s computer cubical.
“Thought this thing had an automatic shut-off.”
“It does, or I should say, it did. One of my innovative colleagues worked all night a few days ago and figured out how to bypass the shut-off timer so her coffee wouldn’t get cold. Then she forgot to turn it off.”
Kruger held the carafe up to the light to see how thick the solid sludge of black burnt coffee appeared. No light penetrated the solid mass on the bottom of the glass container. He frowned, threw it into a waste basket next to the credenza and turned to pick out a coffee pod for the Keurig machine.
As the water was pushed through the pod into his mug, he turned. “How’s Mia?”
“Better. She’s moving around on crutches now and everyone seems pleased with her progress.” He turned and looked at his friend. “The service you hired is doing a remarkable job with her rehab. Her doctor is confident she’ll be off the crutches in ten more weeks.”
“How is she emotionally?”
“She’s from Texas, Sean. Just another obstacle she has to overcome. Losing the baby affected her more than the broken pelvis.”
Kruger didn’t press the issue. If JR wanted to say something more, he would.
“Uh…”
“Yeah?”
“From a psychological standpoint, do you think she’ll want to try again?”
“For a baby?”
JR nodded.
“Not my area of expertise.”
“I know, but what do you think?”
“Have you discussed it with her?”
“Afraid to.”
Kruger smiled. “Do you want another child?”
JR nodded.
“Give her some time, JR. Once her pelvis heals and the trauma of the accident fades, talk to her doctor. She will be the best resource for you two to consult.”
“Thanks, Sean.” He turned and pointed to one of his three computer screens. “We’ve figured out Orlov’s org chart.”
Bending over to get a better view, Kruger put on his half-readers. “How’d you find it?”
“Alexia.”
“Really?”
“Yup, she’s good, Sean. I offered her a job.”
“Did she take it?”
“Said she had to discuss it with Jimmie.” He paused. “Are those two serious about each other?”
“I thought it was White-Knight Syndrome at first, but maybe not. So, what about this organizational chart?”
“Alexia found the email server used by Orlov’s internet provider in Paris. We have his emails. Some of them are encrypted, most are not. Jimmie speaks and reads Russian, so he’s been instrumental in interpreting them. From what we can tell, Orlov has three banks here in the United States he controls.”
“We knew that from last year.”
“Yes, but we didn’t know what else he owns. Or, I should say, controls. We think the money is coming directly from the Kremlin.”
“Have you spoken to Joseph recently?”
“No, why?”
“You just confirmed what a source told him. The money is coming from Orlov’s old KGB buddy. So, what else does he control?”
“Here’s where it gets interesting.”
Kruger closed his eyes and shook his head. “Just tell me, JR.”
With a grin, JR said, “In addition to Rothenburg and Sandifer, they have controlling interests in several CPA firms and are pursuing additional law firms.”
“Why would they want CPA firms?”
&nbs
p; “Same reason they wanted a high-profile attorney’s office. Files on legislators.”
Sipping his coffee, Kruger waited a few seconds before responding. “How much money are we talking about here, JR?”
“Hundreds of millions.” He paused, focusing his attention on Kruger. “One other thing.”
“Yeah.”
“Orlov is pouring a bunch of that money into something called Free America.”
“What the hell is that?”
JR shook his head. “From what Alexia and I can determine, it appears to be a tightly closed group of foreign hacktivists.”
Kruger was silent for a moment as he stared at his cup of coffee. “How closed are they?”
“Locked down tight. I tried to gain access using my Zardoz alter-ego and they didn’t buy it.”
“What about Alexia?”
“We decided it’d be better for her to wait a while. She might actually have a better chance. We don’t think her nom de guerre has been compromised like mine.” He gave Kruger a sly smile. “She was quite the revolutionary when she lived in Paris and rather well-known in the European hacker community.”
“So, what do you think this Free America’s purpose is?”
JR wrinkled his brow and shook his head slightly. “Don’t know for sure, but I can take an educated guess.”
Kruger closed his eyes. JR’s persistent habit of not answering questions directly always caused him frustration. But after many of years of friendship, Kruger could now tolerate it.
“Go on.”
“Like I said, I have no proof.”
“Spit it out, JR.”
“I think their main objective is to create enough havoc with the US election process to shatter the faith everyone has in the system.”
“Some would say that’s already occurred.”
JR shook his head. “Not like what this group can do. These guys will make Anonymous look like kindergarteners.”
Silence filled the small cubicle where the two men resided. Kruger leaned against the credenza, staring at his empty coffee cup.
His next words were directed at no one. “What is Orlov’s end-game?’
JR knew Kruger was posing a rhetorical question, one the FBI agent would answer himself after careful thought. Silence dominated once again.
Minutes ticked by. JR returned his attention to his computer screen while Kruger continued to study his coffee mug. When he looked up, a slight smile appeared. “JR.”
The hacker returned his attention to Kruger.
“When Robert Burns Sr. was in the Senate and Orlov blackmailed him into introducing legislation that eventually led to the 2008 recession, what was the Russian’s reaction?”
Smiling, JR realized where Kruger was going.
“Surprise at the unintended consequences.”
“Right. Legislation originally designed to let his banks make more profit created the background for the 2008 recession. What if the same process is at work here? Compromise our election process as much as possible, then sit back and wait for what happens.”
JR studied Kruger. “Do you think that’s why he is looking for compromised politicians?”
“Yeah, find them and expose them. Then disrupt elections to make sure they get re-elected or someone worse is voted in. It would be a perfect storm.”
“How do we stop them?”
“We stop Orlov.”
“How do we do that?”
Kruger stood, set his coffee mug down and folded his arms over his chest. “We make his buddy in Moscow believe Orlov isn’t spending his money very wisely.”
“I think I’m gonna enjoy that.”
***
Two days later, Kruger sat in JR’s conference room, sipping coffee from a newly purchased Mr. Coffee unit. At the moment, he occupied the room by himself. Others would be joining him shortly. His laptop maintained his attention as he re-read one specific email from Joseph.
The reason for the upcoming meeting with his team.
A closed manilla envelope resided to the left of the laptop with his left hand resting on top. His right hand moved the mouse.
One by one, his team stopped at the coffee service and either poured themselves a cup from the Mr. Coffee or made one with the Keurig. Kruger didn’t pay attention, his focus remaining on making sure he relayed the meaning of Joseph’s email correctly. JR rose from his cubicle outside the conference room, entered last, shut the door, sat next to Kruger and opened his laptop.
Small talk permeated the small room, most of it directed at JR for an update on Mia’s condition.
“She’s doing a lot better,” he told the group, smiling faintly. “She can get around on crutches. With the help of Sandy’s wife Linda, and a visiting nurse, she’s making progress every day. Thanks for asking.”
Kruger looked up from his laptop. JR sat to his right with Sandy Knoll next to him. Jimmie Gibbs and Alexia sat across from them. He turned to JR first, saying, “Ryan Clark is waiting to join us via telephone. Can you hook him up with the speakerphone?”
JR nodded and started typing on his computer. Fifteen seconds later, Ryan Clark could be heard saying hello to the attendees.
Kruger cleared his throat and the room grew silent. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called us together like this.”
Everyone nodded.
“We have a green light to go after Dmitri Orlov in whatever manner we find necessary to stop him.”
Everyone smiled and nodded their heads.
Clark’s voice emanated from the speaker phone: “Any restrictions?”
“He has been classified as a financial terrorist and thus an enemy combatant. Does that answer your question?”
“Sure does. What’s next, Sean?”
“The U.S. imposed sanctions on Russian state-run financial institutions after the invasion of Ukraine. These sanctions restrict those types of banks from doing business in the U.S. Orlov’s banks were not involved because the Federal Reserve considered them privately held institutions. However, we have uncovered evidence that leads us to believe the money behind these banks is from personal funds belonging to a high-ranking member of the Politburo.”
Knoll frowned. “You mean..?”
“Yeah, the top guy.”
Gibbs gave a low whistle, but did not comment.
Kruger continued, “The 2010 Dodd-Frank Act contains an amendment to the U.S. International Banking Act of 1978, which allows the U.S. financial system to determine if a foreign-owned bank offers a risk to U.S. financial stability. If those entities are determined to cause risk, the Federal Reserve can terminate their authority to operate in the United States.”
JR smiled.
Ryan Clark’s voice emanated from the speaker: “So, if we can prove either scenario, the Federal Reserve can shut those banks down. Am I understanding you correctly, Sean?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If the banks fail a stress test, and I mean really fail it, Orlov would immediately be forced to turn to his buddy for an infusion of cash so the banks could pass the stress test. All we have to do is prove where the funds come from and the Federal Reserve would revoke their ability to do business in the U.S. because of the Ukrainian sanctions.
Gibbs spoke next. “How are the banks going to fail a stress test?”
Kruger nodded at JR’s and Alexia’s directions. “That’s their job.”
“Okay, then what? How are we going to prove who sends the funds?”
“JR follows the money trail.” Turning to his friend, Kruger asked, “You can do that, right?”
Returning Kruger’s stare, JR gave a slight grin. “With my eyes closed.”
***
Before leaving the conference room, Kruger handed the manila envelope to JR, said his good-byes and left the room.
With everyone understanding their tasks, they all started to exit the room. JR asked Gibbs and Alexia to stay behind. After the door closed and just the three remained, JR slid the envelope across the table to Alex
ia.
She opened it and found a rental agreement signed by Joseph Kincaid, a birth certificate, Florida driver’s license and Social Security card in the name of Alexia Martinez. Her eyes widened and she looked at JR. “What are these?”
“Your new identity. Martinez is the sixth most common name in Spain. If you look at where you were born, you will see it’s St. Augustine, Florida. Your ancestry is Spanish-American, vs Latin-American. There’s a difference.”
Alexia nodded, took her gaze from JR back to the documents, not sure what to say.
JR continued, “You’ll find when you take those documents to a Department of Revenue office anywhere in the state, and I strongly suggest Christian County, you will be able to receive a new Missouri driver’s license. Once you have secured it, Alexia Martinez will blend into the three-hundred plus million citizens of the United States. She will be a natural citizen with no questions asked.”
She looked up and stared at JR. “How did you…?”
He put his hand up, palm facing her. “Don’t ask, but Joseph’s connections within the CIA helped. I did the rest. It’s better if you don’t know the details.”
“How do I explain my accent?”
JR shrugged. “Don’t. If people persist, say you spent a lot of time as a child in Spain with your grandparents. Most people won’t ask. Besides, your accent has faded since you’ve been here and you’re starting to use contractions, so it isn’t that noticeable anymore.”
She looked at Jimmie Gibbs and then back at JR. “I don’t know what to say?”
“Don’t say anything. You’re as legal as I am or Jimmie for that matter.” He pointed to the documents. “You can get a credit card with those and even buy a gun, if you want. They’ll pass any background check.”
“Does Sean know?” Gibbs asked.
JR smiled. “It was his idea.”
Chapter 34
Washington, D.C. / Paris, France
In a coordinated effort, auditors from the Federal Reserve, FDIC and the IRS descended upon three banks at 9 a.m. exactly one week after the planning meeting in JR’s conference room. In addition to the auditors, two FBI agents accompanied each team. Sean Kruger and Jimmie Gibbs attended the raid on Advanced Capital Bank in Arlington, VA, while Sandy Knoll and FBI Senior Agent Fred Atkins joined the auditors at BNP North America in New York City, with agents Ryan Clark and Samantha Warren present at the visit to Bank of the Atlantic, Washington, D.C.