Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7)

by R. J. Patterson

  Blunt turned on the television as the normally perky Joanna Meyers recapped the fallout of the power outages with a solemn tone. The rolling blackouts occurred twice, lasting a half-hour each time in all three grids. But that was enough to send damages skyrocketing into the billions. Medicines requiring refrigeration were lost. Months’ worth of perishable food spoiled. More than two dozen deaths were directly attributed to the loss of traffic signals on the road. A handful of hospitals lost patients when the facilities couldn’t start their backup generators.

  However, Blunt could quickly tell the most devastating toll was the psychological one. As he cruised the channels, the follow-up stories from news agencies weren’t questioning how this happened, but what Americans could do to feel safe again. Blunt felt as if he’d seen this movie before.

  Just like 9/11.

  In the aftermath of the deadliest terror attack on U.S. soil, Americans were willing to give up anything to restore security, even if it meant standing in line for hours before boarding an airplane. Blunt didn’t think those precautions were overbearing, but in recent years he had sensed a shift in public sentiment toward just how far American citizens were willing to go to be kept safe. This power outage incident was just another one in a long list that stoked the flames of fear. And if Blunt could prove that there really was nothing to fear, he’d consider this mission a success. Yet, he still had to find who was responsible for this and why before he could claim any victories.

  He scanned some reports on the data collected from DarkNite’s computer that Shields had compiled. She had already successfully tied him to another cyberattack on the U.S. Social Security database as a result of all the information she gleaned. But she hadn’t found anything concrete enough to link DarkNite directly to the power outage.

  Blunt was in the middle of taking a sip of water when Shields barreled into his office, waving a piece of paper.

  “I found it,” she said.

  Startled by Shields’ sudden entrance, Blunt nearly sprayed his drink all over his desk. “A knock would’ve been nice,” he said after swallowing the rest of the liquid in his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, “but this is what we’ve been looking for. I found out where DarkNite called. And you won’t believe me even after I tell you.”

  “Try me.”

  * * *

  BRADY HAWK was in his office poring over some of the data that Shields had found when his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

  “Did you finally meet with Kellerman?” asked Charles Harris.

  “You’re like a dog with a bone on this,” Hawk said.

  “It’s because there are important things at stake here. If he has his way, the current administration isn’t going to have a prayer at stopping any future attacks. The whole country is going to be held hostage.”

  “Is that speculation, or do you know something that you’re not telling me?”

  Harris ignored Hawk’s question. “Look, I think it’s at least obvious by now that Young is going after the wrong people.”

  “There seems to be some truth in that statement, but I need more help.”

  “I wish I could help you more, but I can’t. Just know that if you don’t take action, the whole nation is going to suffer.”

  Harris hung up, leaving Hawk with more questions than answers.

  * * *

  BLUNT SHOOK HIS head in disbelief as he stared at Shields. “DarkNite called a burner phone here in Washington? That narrows it down to about a million people. I thought you said this was good news.”

  “I haven’t reached the good part yet,” she said. “Be patient.”

  “I’m all out of patience. Just tell me what I need to know.”

  Shields nodded. “So, we don’t know who owns the phone since it was paid for in cash, but we do know that it was purchased in Washington as well as the general vicinity of where the call was received.”

  “And that is?”

  “Franklin Square, across the street from the Hamilton Hotel.”

  “That possibly narrows it down for us,” Blunt said. “But whoever that phone belongs to didn’t necessarily stay at the Hamilton.”

  “Of course not, but I did some digging and found another call from DarkNite to that number, six months earlier, that was in the same vicinity.”

  “See if the Hamilton will give you their records and cross reference those two dates with all the guests,” Blunt said. “At least it will give us a place to start.”

  Shields didn’t leave Blunt’s office, instead sitting down in the chair across from his desk and pulling out her phone. She dialed the number for the Hamilton Hotel and waited for a reply. When the desk clerk didn’t give Shields what she wanted, she asked to speak to a manager. The manager said he couldn’t comply with her request for legal reasons.

  Blunt eyed Shields, her chin tucked into her chest.

  “Don’t get discouraged that easily,” Blunt said. “If you need to hack into their system, go ahead. You don’t really need my authorization. It’s desperate times and all. Feel free to pull out all the stops in order to uncover any more potential suspects.”

  “Roger that.”

  Shields stood up before her phone buzzed. She swiped it open, and her eyes widened as she read a note on the screen.

  “What is it?” Blunt asked.

  “A threat,” Shields said. “Someone doesn’t like us looking into this.”

  She held the screen out so Blunt could see it. It read: “I suggest you stop looking into this matter. You will … if you know what’s good for you.”

  Blunt shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. It only confirms you’re on the right track. Keep digging … but be vigilant.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Washington, D.C.

  WHEN THE HAMILTON HOTEL refused to share its guest information with Firestorm despite Shields’ insistence that it pertained to national security, Black suggested they obtain the data by other means. The hotel’s strict privacy policy meant only a federal warrant could force management to yield that information. But there wasn’t time to navigate the bureaucratic red tape.

  Later that evening, she put together an operation to harvest the Hamilton’s client list over the past year. Black’s task was simple: sneak into the hotel and attach a device to the server that would enable Shields to access the server remotely.

  He checked his coms to ensure that they were functioning properly before entering the lobby. Flinging his scarf over his shoulder, he approached the man standing behind the marble kiosk.

  “Good evening, sir,” the man said. “May I help you?”

  “I was wondering if you might have my bag from earlier today,” Black said. “A lady at this desk tagged my luggage and said it would be here for me when I got back. Would you mind retrieving that for me now?”

  “Sure thing, sir. What’s the name?”

  “Austin Sayers.”

  “Okay,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as she disappeared around a wall, Black checked the area before leaning over the counter and jamming the uplink device into one of the USB ports on the side of the computer.

  “How’s that?” Black asked over his coms.

  “Perfect,” Shields answered from her position in a utility van parked a half-block away. “I’ve got a clear signal and I’m hacking into the system right now.”

  A few seconds later, the clerk emerged from the back with a furrowed brow. “What did you say your name was again, sir?”

  “Austin Sayers,” Black answered.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t see anything set aside.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Black said as he dug into his pocket and held up a small piece of paper. “I’ve got a receipt right here.”

  The woman held out her hand to receive the ticket from Black before inspecting it. She smiled after studying it for a moment and then held it up.

  “The problem, Mr. Sayers, is that this receipt is for the
Marriott. You’re in the wrong hotel.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Black said. “I could’ve sworn this is where I—”

  Before he could finish his thought, two men clad in security uniforms stormed toward him and shouted for him to stop.

  Black realized he’d been busted and needed to leave immediately. He turned on his heels and raced through the lobby.

  “We’ve been compromised,” Black said. “Someone in security saw me meddling with the computer.”

  “We’ve been compromised?” Shields asked incredulously. “I’m betting just you have.”

  “Shields, what are you thinking?”

  Black heard Shields slam the van door.

  She chuckled before answering. “Just don’t get caught. I can take care of myself.”

  He rounded the corner and headed out a side exit near where she had parked the van. As he did, he saw her walking casually past him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked over the coms through clenched teeth.

  “Just don’t get caught.”

  * * *

  SHIELDS HUSTLED UP to the clerk who signaled for her to come over. He wore a dark suit and adjusted his glasses as she approached.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  Shields nodded down the hall in the direction where she’d seen the two security guards. “What was that all about?”

  The clerk raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”

  “Well, in that case, I was wondering if I could book a room.”

  “Certainly. But unfortunately, all we have available right now are queen rooms. Will that work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll just need to see your driver’s license and get a credit card from you.”

  Shields glanced around as she dug into her purse. Noticing that the area was clear of any other guards, she moved forward with her plan. As she produced what the clerk asked for, she pushed it across the counter, resulting in both her license and the credit card tumbling to the floor behind the counter.

  When the clerk bent down to pick up the cards, she leaned over the counter and jammed a transmitting device into the back of the computer. She remained in that position, waiting for him to stand up again.

  “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a faint smile. “It’s not the first time that’s happened to me.”

  He typed on his computer for a few seconds before looking up at Shields.

  “How does a room on the first floor sound?” he asked.

  “Sounds perfect,” she said.

  He processed her credit card before returning it along with her license. Then he handed her a keycard and directed her toward her room.

  Once Shields reached her room, she pulled out her computer and went to work. With the transmission link, she didn’t need more than a half-hour to break into the system and gather the customer information. She cross-referenced the guest list on the two dates of the phone calls from DarkNite.

  There was only one name that matched. Her eyes widened as she shook her head in disbelief.

  Her phone buzzed with a call from Black.

  “Please tell me you’re not calling me from a police precinct?” she asked.

  Black chuckled. “If I can’t outwit a pair of hotel security guards, I need to find a new line of work.”

  “Glad to hear you’re okay then.”

  “I barely needed to break a sweat. So, how’d your idea pan out?”

  “Like gold,” she said.

  “So, you identified a hotel guest who was there during both of those dates?”

  “Uh, huh,” she said. “And you’re never going to believe who it is.”

  “Try me.”

  “None other than the infamous Martin Kellerman. You surprised?”

  “I wish I could say that I was, but I’m not.”

  “Well, we don’t have any time to waste. Call Blunt and see if he can get the plane ready for us to go pay Mr. Kellerman a visit.”

  “I’m already on it.”

  CHAPTER 35

  San Francisco, California

  AS BLACK DROVE THROUGH the winding hills of the Pacific Heights neighborhood later the next day, Shields increased the volume on the radio so they could hear a report about the continued fallout of the media-dubbed Great Blackout. The news anchor recounted the statistics, including everything from how many deaths had been attributed to the loss of power to the economic winners and losers. However, Black didn’t blink when he heard that Martin Kellerman’s KindNet, the company behind the new online security measure FortressNet, had watched its stocks triple in value.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Black asked.

  “If you were surprised, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Shields said.

  “Good point.”

  Black rumbled along until he reached the iron gates of Martin Kellerman’s spacious mansion that towered four stories high. Inside the guard hut, a security officer walked out to greet his visitors. He crouched down and waited for Black to roll down the window.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Kellerman isn’t scheduled to receive any visitors today,” the man said.

  “We’re not on his list,” Black said.

  “Then you should just turn around and go back to where you came from.”

  Black held out his hand. Shields gave him the warrant.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Black said. “Give it a gander. It’s a warrant for us to search the premises. I trust you’re not going to invite any legal trouble by denying us this, are you?”

  The man snatched the document from Black’s hand and studied the warrant for a moment. After glancing over it, he tossed it through the window.

  “Wait here until the gate is fully open,” he mumbled as he strode back to his post.

  Black looked at Shields. “See, I told you it’d work.”

  “And what if he’d said no? Where would we have been?” she asked.

  Black patted the steering wheel. “This is a Range Rover. I’m fairly certain it would’ve done more damage to the gate than the gate would’ve done to this beauty.”

  “You’re lucky your forgery skills are still sharp.”

  Black smiled as the gates rolled open. “I’ve still got the touch. Plus, people never read much past the first few lines of a warrant. They don’t want anything to do with legal issues.”

  “Well, I can guarantee you that Kellerman won’t be happy.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. We’ll tell him we’re here to help and see where things go from there.”

  “Your optimism is annoying sometimes,” she said. “Just like your death wish.”

  “It’s an odd combination, I know,” Black said as he eased through the gates in the direction of the guard. “But what can I say? I’m an odd fellow.”

  “Never has a truer statement been made.”

  He forced a smile as he parked the vehicle just a few meters away from the front steps of Kellerman’s mansion. The two Firestorm agents got out and hustled up the steps before ringing the doorbell.

  After a few seconds, Kellerman wore a furrowed brow as he peered through one of the windows flanking the front door. He had a bottle of scotch in one hand and a glass in the other.

  “Who are you?” he mouthed through the glass.

  “Mr. Kellerman, Brady Hawk sent us,” Black said. “We’re from Homeland Security and we need to speak with you.”

  Kellerman’s shoulders slumped before he unlocked the deadbolts and ushered them inside to the sitting room.

  “We’re sorry that we had to spring a meeting like this on you,” Black said. “But it’s a matter of national security.”

  “National security,” Kellerman sneered. “That’s become a nasty four-letter word around here.”

  “You’ve had some issues with national security?” Shields asked.

  Kellerman poured himself a drink before s
auntering over to a chair directly across from where Black and Shields sat. “I’m gonna level with you, Agent—”

  “Agent Black—and this is my colleague, Agent Shields.”

  “Okay, whatever. Agent Black and Agent Shields, nice to meet you. Really, it is. But I’ve got far bigger issues to deal with right now than answering some of your questions about what happened when the power went out across the entire country a few days ago.”

  “How do you know that’s what we want to talk with you about?” Shields asked.

  “You’re certainly not here for a social call. So, it’s an educated guess, but one I’d be willing to bet is fully grounded in truth.”

  “Well, your hunch is right,” Black said. “But we still need to talk with you or else innocent people may die. Or should I say that more innocent people will die if you don’t tell me what I need to know.”

  “More?” Kellerman asked as his eyes widened.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be held responsible for the blackouts, unless you can help us catch who did this,” Shields said.

  “I don’t know what you think you know, lady,” Kellerman said, “but I can promise you that it’s wrong.”

  “It’s actually, Agent Shields, not lady. And those are bold words coming from a man who has no idea what I’m thinking. In fact, I’m quite sure no man ever knows what a woman is thinking.”

  Black cracked a faint smile. “Look, Mr. Kellerman. We have reason to believe that you were in contact with a hacker named DarkNite. Does any of this sound familiar to you?”

  Kellerman squinted. “Who?”

  “A hacker who went by the handle DarkNite,” Black answered.

  Kellerman shook his head resolutely. “Never heard of him.”

  “That’s extremely odd, considering that he called a number in the U.S. twice,” Shields said. “And he called a cell phone that was at a location in Washington on the exact dates you were staying there.”

  “An odd coincidence, I’m sure,” Kellerman said. “But it’s clear that you have no evidence here. You’re just on a fishing expedition.”