“Eew.” Ryan shook his head. “That sounds like something Slippy would say.”
“Yes it does,” Gregg chimed in over the earpieces. “Congrats Steve. I think you’ve earned your ‘pro’ card. You’re now a provert. No more amateur shit for you, pal.”
Steve chuckled as he knotted his tie then pulled the black suit coat on. “This could have gone down a lot worse than it did.”
“Copy that,” Gregg chimed in again. “They’ve already got drones in the air and they sent out a BOLO for the dirt bikes. It won’t take them long to realize that you fellas switched vehicles.”
Ryan slowed the truck even more and set the cruise control. “No sense in standing out. Drive casually. No reason to stop a secret service vehicle, right?”
“Casual, not lethargic. At least go the speed limit, Ryan,” Steve urged, pointing to the speedometer.
Ryan punched it up a few more miles an hour then slowed to pull the truck into traffic. “And now we blend in with all of the thousands of other government vehicles in this cesspool.”
Bridger finally sighed and leaned back in the seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the SD card. “Somebody tell me we can transmit this shit to Slippy.”
Gregg chimed in over the radio again. “I’ll be meeting you in ten.”
“Thank god.” Bridger leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Please, let this be over soon.”
Langley, VA
* * *
CHESTERFIELD SCREAMED AS he watched the dirt bikes tear across the grounds, dirt and grass flung behind their big knobby tires as they accelerated toward the small creek that crossed the property. He pounded against the glass of his window when he watched each of the motorbikes take to the air and jump the narrow waterway.
“Son of a BITCH!” He slammed his fists against the glass harder.
“Colonel Nelson wants to see you.”
He spun and glared at the young woman slinking away from his office. He marched back to his chair and pulled his coat from the back of it.
He turned to leave and caught his reflection in the mirror again. “Good lord you look like shit.” His reflection didn’t reply, but it seemed to smirk at him.
He sighed heavily and marched out of his office. “Tell me the building is off lockdown.”
A man in a tweed jacket nodded as he approached. “They just released the doors a few moments…hey!” He fell against the wall as Darren pushed his way past him.
Chesterfield didn’t hear the man’s remarks as the door shut behind him and he began to climb the stairs. He knew he needed to find out what Bridger had taken. If he had a copy of the encryption program, there would definitely be hell to pay. He could offer it on the black market and the agency would have no choice but to either purchase it themselves or develop a whole new system.
He pushed the door open to the fourth floor and quietly slipped into the hallway. The entire floor was abuzz, but quiet, as people hurriedly tried to assess the damage. He made his way down the hall and stood in the doorway of Nelson’s office as the man gently hung up the phone.
“That was our illustrious security chief.”
Darren grunted and leaned against the doorjamb. “Let me guess, they have no idea how it happened.”
“Oh, no. They know exactly how it happened.” Colonel Nelson stood and motioned him inside.
Darren pushed the door shut and sat across from the man. “What happened? Full on assault?”
Colonel Nelson stretched his neck and shoulders before taking his seat again. “Apparently they orchestrated an electronic attack on our internal security systems.”
Darren’s eyes widened. “They were inside our security?”
Colonel Nelson nodded. “Since they couldn’t access the encryption programs through their hack, they had to physically get inside the building.” He motioned to the sensors mounted in the corner of his office. “They sent an electronic attack that caused the system to repeatedly reset itself. That gave them a window of anywhere from eight to twelve seconds.”
Darren shook his head slowly. “What could they do in that amount of time?”
Colonel Nelson sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Once? Nothing. But a series of system blackouts? They could waltz right in and do whatever they wanted.” He suddenly sat up and gave Darren a tight lipped smile. “And boy, did they just waltz right in.”
Chesterfield’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“They posed as the techs that were sent to repair the system.” Colonel Nelson leaned back in his chair and actually laughed. “Imagine that. They attack the system through an unknown chink in the chainmail then pose as the very people who come to repair the damage.”
“Wait…if they were here to fix it…” Darren shook his head as he tried to connect the dots. “How’d they get caught?”
Nelson shook his head. “Get this. Two showed up. But three left.” He raised his brows at Chesterfield. “Tell me how the hell that happens.”
Darren sat quietly as his mind tried to connect dots again. “The third man was hidden in the truck?”
Nelson shook his head. “Security cameras verified that only two men exited the vehicle.”
Darren sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “He came in dressed as an employee?”
Nelson shook his head again. “No questionable entries in the log. Only known employees of the agency arrived today.”
Darren sat up straight. “Today. As in, he could have snuck in earlier?”
Nelson shook his head again. “He wouldn’t be able to maneuver inside, especially for days on end without being caught.”
Darren threw his hands in the air. “He fell from the fucking sky?”
Nelson shook his head again. “There are sensors on the roof. If a bird takes a dump after too heavy a breakfast, they go off.”
Darren sat back and shook his head. “Magic portal? That’s all you’re leaving me here.”
Nelson leaned back in his chair again and raised a brow at him. “Figure this one out and you just may save your own ass, Chesterfield. If he got what we think he got, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
Darren ground his teeth in silence, the stress building up within. “You know, I wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t insisted we use Bridger as the scapegoat.” He lifted his eyes and glared at the older man. “You were the one who cleared the flag on him when the groundwork was still being laid.”
Colonel Nelson stared at him, his face unreadable.
“In fact, I was told that he was working for the feebs and you told me to ignore that little fact. Remember telling me that the man was the perfect target and it would take too long to find another that fit our criteria?”
Colonel Nelson leaned forward and continued to stare at the younger man. “Are you done?” He stood up slowly and glared down at Chesterfield. “When you’re through trying to point blame, get your ass to work and pull it out of the fire.”
Darren stood and turned for the door.
“And remember…”
Darren spun on him. “I fucking remember, okay?”
Colonel Nelson crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze at the young agent. “I was about to say, remember, don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” He sat back down then added, “But you are correct. I have no knowledge of the op you speak of.”
Baltimore, MD
* * *
GREGG OPENED HIS laptop and slid it across the narrow table. “Sir Slippyfist is here to serve!”
Bobby glanced around the empty classroom, an uneasy feeling creeping into the back of his mind. He handed him the SD card and Gregg inserted it into the slot of his computer. “Let’s just see what you have here….oh. Wow. This is a shit ton of…” his voice trailed off.
“What?”
Gregg held a finger up, putting them off a moment. “Okay. Everybody needs to see this shit.” He pulled out a cable and attached the computer to the white board in the room. “This may seem con
voluted because none of this is really in order, but…” he trailed off again.
Roger paced slowly behind the group, his mind reeling from the fact that they had just infiltrated one of the most secure buildings in the civilized world. “We’re all dead men.”
Jay placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “We’ve all been dead before. It’s not that big a deal.” He gave him a crooked smile.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Ryan pointed at the man. “It means shut up and listen.” He turned to Gregg. “Show us, Slippy.”
“Okay.” Gregg brought up the first image. “This one shows that a certain Darren Chesterfield is the brains behind this little fuckfest. You can see where he laid out the plans for the attack as a CIA operation rather than a military op.”
“Because Pakistan is supposed to be an ally,” Jay added.
“Exactamundo.” Gregg flipped to the next image. “This is the heads of all of the alphabet soup groups that were included in the original memo.” He cleared his throat for effect. “Anybody notice whose name isn’t on there?”
Steve snapped his fingers. “Secretary of Defense.”
“Winner, winner chicken dinner.” Gregg switched to the next image. “This is a memo from one Colonel Nelson to the Deputy Director of the NSA. In this one, he specifically states that the SecDef should be excluded for ‘plausible deniability.’”
Deric grunted. “I hate that term.”
Jim nodded. “It’s just another way to leave somebody twisting in the wind and claim you had no idea.”
“But wait, this gets better.” Gregg brought up another image. “The director of the CIA, who is constitutionally mandated to steer clear of any operations on American soil, specifically okays the actionable event of selecting a qualified civilian target…” Gregg turned to Bobby. “That’s you, by the way.”
“Should have bought a lottery ticket, buddy.” Jay clapped his shoulder as he walked by.
“Yeah, I got all the luck.”
Viktor pointed to the image and asked: “Who is this here?”
“That is the Director of the NSA. He, also, was excluded from the foundational meetings of this little shit storm.” Gregg brought up another image. “Because this shit stain…Deputy Director Ingram, wants his job.”
Bobby stood and fought to remain calm. “So what we have here is a conspiracy to kill hundreds, if not thousands, of foreign nationals on their own soil. To what end?”
Gregg sighed and pulled up another image. “They wanted to turn the tide of public opinion.” He brought up a second image and placed them side by side. “Too many weapons are being pushed through the Pak through black markets.”
“By people like our new little buddy, al-Abadi.” Jay turned and glared at the smaller man.
Muhammed shook his head. “I deal in arms. Not weapons like this.”
“It was your boss’s factory that got blown to hell. All of that toxic gas was meant to be used somewhere,” Bobby practically yelled.
Muhammed sat back and bit his tongue. He knew that arguing would do no good. Instead, he tried reason. “Asma is the one who organized this, not I. If I had known, I would have told her not to do this.”
“The money was just too good, eh?” Jim asked as he stood and poured a cup of coffee.
“We can point fingers all day,” Jay stated, coming to his feet again. “The real question is, what do we do with this information?”
Gregg shook his head. “We already have targets on our backs. But if we went public with this?”
“Even though it exonerates us, it’s still treason,” Deric added.
“So we do nothing?” Bobby asked. He came to his feet and began pacing, his anger rising with his frustration.
“Nobody said we do nothing.” Jay tried to calm him. “We already sent a shit ton of what we had to the widow.”
Muhammed raised his hand slowly. “If I may?” He stood slowly and tried to choose his words wisely. “If I know Asma, she is probably in hiding. Whoever was expecting this biological weapon will not accept excuses in its place. She will be in fear for her life.”
“If they haven’t already gotten to her,” Steve added. “What are the odds that she got away?”
Muhammed shrugged. “There is no way to know. I doubt that even my contacts would search for her. They believe me a traitor to my own people.”
“So we’re back to being fucked,” Bobby sighed.
Karachi, Pakistan
* * *
BASSIM AL-AHMED watched as his men tossed the last of the gold into the rear of the truck. “Take it to the vault and wait for me.” He turned and eyed the palatial house one last time. “I know she has money hidden somewhere. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Bassim!”
He turned and watched as one of his men ran up to him. “What now?”
“Our man inside the ISI just sent this.” He held up a phone.
Bassim took the device and scanned it. “Muhammed al-Abadi has left the country.” He turned to his men and fought the urge to crush the phone in his hand. “He is with the Americans!”
“How will we get to him, Bassim?”
He spun and shook a fist in his face. “We have brothers there. There are cells all over that fat country. We find out where the Americans took al-Abadi and we send them to bleed him like a goat until he tells us where the widow hides her money.”
“But if he cannot be found?”
Bassim clenched his jaw and glared at the man. “He. Will. Be. Found.” He forced himself to relax and turned away from the man. “Notify the cells immediately.”
“Yes, Bassim.”
He watched as the man practically ran away, working at his phone as he left.
Bassim paced the courtyard and forced his anger down. At least now he knew where al-Abadi was. He may not be the one to hold the knife to his throat, but he knew that soon the little arms dealer would be trembling under the blade of a true believer.
28
Baltimore, MD
* * *
ROGER PACED WHILE al-Abadi continued trying to connect with Asma. He dialed every number that he knew of and a few that he prayed might be able to contact her. He lowered his head in defeat and handed his phone to Jay. “She will not answer.”
“Or can not.” Jay tossed the phone to Gregg. “Slippy, see what you can find out.”
“I suppose it’s possible that nobody likes you, Muhammed.” Gregg entered the numbers into his computer and began running his locating programs. He sat back and chewed on the end of a pen just as his program hit pay dirt. He sat up and squinted at the screen. “Hold on. I think we found her…” he trailed off as he zoomed in.
Jay and al-Abadi slipped in behind him as he continued to scroll in tighter. “That is her home. I am certain of it.”
Gregg continued to zoom in then paused. He looked to Jay who gave him a subtle nod. Switching to another program he piggy-backed off of a satellite that maintained a fairly constant vigil of the area. “Let’s see if we can get a real time idea of what’s…” Gregg paled as the image came into focus. “Either she’s bugging out or she’s got a metric shit ton of unwanted visitors.”
Muhammed tapped the screen. “Can you make this bigger?”
Gregg punched the keys and the image went out of focus before zooming in again. “That’s as good as it gets with this bird.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got limited time before we’re discovered on this sat.”
Muhammed blew his breath out hard and shook his head. “Those are not her vehicles. Nor are they her men.” He swallowed hard and looked to Jay. “Either they are looting her properties, or…”
“Or she’s in their custody.”
Gregg added quickly, “Or dead.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t sound like these fellows are the type to give second chances.”
Bobby pulled al-Abadi away from the computer and kept his voice low. “What about the data we sent her? It was bad enough to do a da
ta dump to a weapons dealer, but…”
Jay rubbed at his chin. “Gregg, how damning is it to us?”
Gregg shrugged. “It was what we had at the time. Mostly how the fedgov was setting up Bridger.” He shook his head. “If it was compromised, I don’t see how they can use it against us.”
Bridger stiffened. “They’ll have the government’s info on me. That makes me a target to these assholes.”
Jay paced slowly, his head shaking. “No. It just proves that the government was willing to hang you out to dry. It doesn’t mean that they’ll actually blame you for—”
“Wake up!” Bridger practically yelled. “If these assholes know who I am, they can track me.”
“Why would they?” Jay asked.
“I’m the only lead they’ll have. Do you really think that would stop them from chopping off dangly bits or shooting me full of some kind of truth serum, then killing me when I can’t give them what they want?”
“They’d have to find you first.” Gregg closed the lid on his computer. “All they have are grainy images and a name.”
Bobby gave him a duh stare. “And what could you do with those two pieces of information?”
Gregg chuckled. “Me? I could…” His face suddenly fell. “Oh snap. He’s right. If they have any kind of hacker worth his salt, they’ll find him.”
“And us.” Jay stiffened. “Load up. We’re bugging out.”
Deric pushed off of the desk he was leaning on. “Where we headed boss?”
Jay smiled. “We’re heading home.”
Jim hesitated. “Wait…if the bad guys…well, the government bad guys and the terrorist bad guys all know where we live…”
Jay nodded. “I’d rather face them on our home turf than out here. We’re out of here in ten. Move it!”
Langley, VA
* * *
AGENT DARREN CHESTERFIELD paced his narrow office, his sleep-deprived mind trying to think like Bridger and his buddies at Baba Yaga. He snorted in derision as he contemplated the balls it took to stroll into the most secure building in the United States.
Flags of The Forgoten Page 25
