by David Caris
No one answered. ‘Who is it?’ he asked. ‘Who’s the bodyguard?’
‘O’Keefe.’
Shit, Kovac thought. He knew O’Keefe and knew he would only miss a call if incapacitated or dead.
Kovac thought about Malone’s strength, his stamina, his courage. He didn’t strike Kovac as smart but he was trained. He had a high degree of control over his fear. And over pain. He was working with Griffin, that much was beyond doubt.
Kovac wondered if the training was military, but it didn’t feel like that. Or at least, not U.S. military. The man processed decisions differently to Kovac. He felt more like a prize fighter, a little past his prime maybe, and now someone’s blunt instrument.
Whatever he was, he had put Kovac through his paces. And doubtless O’Keefe, too. Kovac should’ve seen this coming.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Megan said under her breath, her frustration palpable. She gave up on the call.
‘I think we have to assume everything they told us is bullshit.’ Kovac started back into his toast, now using the knife to bulldoze egg up onto the sour dough.
‘I agree.’ Megan put the phone down on the table. ‘But where does that leave us?’
‘That’s what I need to figure out.’
‘You mean “that’s what we need to figure out”?’
‘Nope.’
Megan fixed him with a hard glare.
Kovac hurried to swallow, realizing this disagreement wasn’t going to be a simple one. ‘You need to be the public face of this thing, Megan.’
‘Don’t tell me how to do my job. I know my job.’
‘You’re hiding.’
‘Screw you. What do you know about fronting the press? I need something to say. I can’t control the narrative if –’
‘No. You don’t. People just need to hear from you, that’s all.’
She picked up her toast, looked away towards a bare wall and took a grumpy bite. She chewed slowly, seeming to mull over what he had said.
‘You’re irritated because you know I’m right,’ Kovac said. ‘We’re wasting time, because we both know it has to be you. You’re the one setting the tone for the company now, setting the example. Not your father. And you’re the one who’s built up the relationships, who understands what your senior staff can and can’t do. They’ll want you to raise your weapon on this one.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning step back a little, look at the bigger picture and make a call. The way I see it, there isn’t anyone doing that right now. You’re on target with me, and I don’t need that from you. No one does. Step in.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Step in or step back? You said both in the same breath.’
‘Because it is both. Step into your world, then step back and see what needs to be done.’ He paused, trying to soften what was a blunt message. ‘You’re right. I don’t know your world. Maybe it’s a press conference, maybe it’s a meeting. I don’t know what’s needed. But that’s my point. You do. And like it or not, you’re no use to anyone here.’
Megan’s phone buzzed. She checked it, eyes running down the screen in less than a second.
‘Names and addresses?’ Kovac asked.
‘Yeah. For the coding team and for Wilson Software Solutions.’ She clicked on a link and read in silence for a moment. Then she switched off the screen and leaned back, regarding him coolly. ‘And you? What are you going to do?’
He noticed she wasn’t giving orders. She was asking questions. It was a balance he was more comfortable with than their initial agreement.
‘I told you. I’m out.’
‘Even with people coming after you.’
‘Even with people coming after me.’
‘Then I guess I’ll need to call the police. They can run down the names and addresses I just got and see what they can learn about Griffin, Malone and my missing bodyguard.’
‘Under the circumstances, agreed. Let the police know they were cashed-up and headed for Vienna when your bodyguard visited to follow up on Griffin’s tip to you. They have millions in laundered Euros in the crawlspace above their living room.’
‘For what?’
‘No idea.’ Kovac thought about Malone jumping from the roof and Griffin’s decision to roll onto her back and take whatever beating he saw fit to dish out. Her choice of ribs over spine. Would she have chosen spine over talking…? ‘If Griffin was a plant at Curzon, why did she give you her home address, then look surprised when I showed up?’ He paused to take a sip of coffee. ‘And what have they done to O’Keefe? He’s a former soldier.’
‘What are you driving at exactly?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m just saying be careful, in case Griffin wanted us to do everything we’ve done so far.’
Megan nodded. ‘You said they had tickets to Vienna?’
‘And this…’ Kovac took the Wilson business card and put it on the table. He tapped the German address, written by hand on it, along with “DELPHI”, then noticed another name on the card. Virat Kapoor.
Zoe’s so-called boyfriend.
Not a coincidence.
Not by half.
‘You ever heard of “DELPHI”?’
‘No. I mean the oracle, sure, but besides that, no.’
Megan got another phone call. She took it, walking off into a hallway to speak in private. When she returned, she sat down and said: ‘We have a few new problems.’
‘You mean you do.’
‘Okay, I do. One, this worm or whatever it is, it’s spreading beyond Curzon.’
‘And two?’
‘We have backups of all Curzon’s servers, but the servers which act as a map for our entire network, they’re gone. Well, save for one.’ She consulted her phone. ‘Juliette says these domain controllers – that’s what they’re called apparently, domain controllers – contain all the rules determining which users can access which systems. We had close on a hundred of the things and they were all designed to sync. I think any one of them was meant to cover the others. Now she’s telling me that somehow, they’ve all been wiped.’
‘Simultaneously.’
‘Simultaneously. Well, except for one.’
‘Where is it?’
She gave him a look. ‘Vienna.’
Chapter 31
Kovac went on eating as he thought about this. He was getting down to the last of the food on his plate and wished there was more.
‘Coincidence?’ Megan asked.
‘Sure. Just like Malone having a Wilson business card.’
And just like Zoe dating Kapoor.
Megan scratched at one ear gloomily, then sighed. ‘I agree. It’s all connected somehow and we’re too stupid to be out in front of it.’
‘You,’ Kovac clarified once again, before asking: ‘What happens if you lose this last domain controller in Vienna?’
‘Apparently, we lose everything. We can’t rebuild. It really is from scratch then. I know we’ve been saying that a lot – we’ll start from scratch – but this would be years. We’d go bankrupt long before we were up and running again because our competition would smell blood and move in for the kill.’
‘Why did the domain thingy in Vienna survive?’
‘Juliette’s looked into that. There was a power failure in Vienna. And since then, they haven’t switched anything back on. They heard about the hack.’
‘Lucky break?’
‘We were due one, I think.’
Kovac positioned his knife and fork to signal he was done. ‘Great breakfast,’ he said, before pointing to Megan’s toast. ‘Are you going to eat that?’
She pushed the plate towards him.
‘No, I meant I want you to eat it.’
‘Jesus, first my job and now my diet?’ Megan drummed her fingers on the screen of her phone. ‘Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’m not used to people telling me what to do, apparently.’
‘CEO’s curse.’
Megan ignored this jibe. She said: ‘What ab
out the terror attack?’
‘What about it?’
‘What if it was an attempt to disperse BoNT?’
‘A Botox bomb? Let’s see if it is before we worry about that.’
‘But imagining it is for a moment…? That, plus this…’ She tapped her phone again. ‘What does that mean? A sort of pincer attack?’
‘Or possibly two enemies, each unaware of the other.’
‘You allow a lot of leeway for someone who doesn’t believe in coincidences.’
‘Because I don’t believe in assumptions, either.’
Megan took a small, conciliatory bite of toast, chewing slowly and without any apparent appetite. Like she was doing it simply to keep the peace.
‘Where’s Bishop in all this?’ Kovac asked.
‘Still missing in action.’
‘Like O’Keefe.’
‘Like O’Keefe, yes.’
Kovac checked his watch. It was time he hit the road, though he didn’t relish the idea of trying to drop off the grid here in the U.K.. He was going to need to find some way into Europe, which would be tricky without ID.
Megan stood, put her jacket on, collected her phone from the table and folded the flyer with the photo of Christopher Diaz. ‘Well,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘I guess this is “have a nice life”.’ She pocketed the phone and flyer.
‘You’re going back to the office?’ Kovac asked.
‘No.’ She started towards the front door.
‘Then where?’
‘What do you care. You’re out, remember?’ Her voice took on a slightly sing-song edge, echoing in the hallway. ‘Thanks for letting me stay. And thanks for all the patronizing advice. I’ll take it from here, I guess.’
‘You calling a cab?’ he yelled.
‘A jet.’
Kovac swore under his breath. ‘Of course you are,’ he muttered, before yelling, ‘Vienna?’
‘I can run the company from there just as easily as here. Perhaps even more easily. Less press. I can also get that domain controller. So yeah, Vienna.’
Kovac nodded to himself, already pulling his windbreaker and T-shirt off. ‘I’m going to take a quick shower,’ he yelled. ‘I need a change of clothes. You sort out the jet. And make sure it has a minibar.’
There was a confused silence from the front of the house. Then: ‘You’re coming with me?’
‘Austria’s lovely this time of year.’
Another confused silence.
‘What?’ he yelled.
‘I don’t get it, a moment ago you were out, no ifs, buts or maybes.’
A moment ago Megan wasn’t offering a no-questions-asked, free fight from the U.K. to Europe. He would ditch her shortly after arrival and slip into Bratislava.
‘Outsource the jet,’ he said, his voice still at a near shout. ‘Not Curzon. Try charter companies, see what there is.’
‘Why?’
He didn’t feel like explaining. She would figure it out anyway. Everything they had, and everything they were now doing, stemmed from Griffin. He had to consider the slim but real possibility the power outage was by design, all part of a plan to get them onto a particular plane to Vienna at a particular time.
He entered the bathroom and ran the hot water, waiting for it to warm up as he tried to think. Was Vienna even the right move? He had forgotten Virat Kapoor.
Maybe he was better to go to Wilson Software Solutions first? Or any one of the addresses for the other coders who had worked on converting AccountMe into Aurelius?
The water started to steam. He finished stripping off.
But all those leads were born of Griffin, too, and were no less likely to be traps. ‘Send me the airport and time,’ he yelled. ‘I’ll meet you there.’
‘You’re not sharing a cab now?’
He realized Megan was on the other side of the door. She had made her way back through the house.
He opened the door an inch, glimpsing her. She was standing with her back to the bathroom door, arms folded. ‘I’ll catch up. There’s somewhere I need to go first. Get police on the addresses Juliette sent you, and give them a description of O’Keefe. That’ll cut your legwork down some.’ He shut the door again, flicked the lock and got in the shower. He would deal with Kapoor, then fly to Vienna, then – ‘Aghhh!’
Megan knocked. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You screamed.’
‘You say screaming, I say singing.’ The water, which was far too hot, had burnt Kovac’s face and body, causing him to hop and hug the wall. He reached around the scalding torrent of steam and adjusted the temperature, before testing it again – and then again once more. Only when absolutely sure did he step back under it. He struggled to resume his train of thought. Kapoor, Vienna, then onto into Bratislava, and from there gone.
It was a solid plan.
Chapter 32
Kovac stepped out of the train as its doors, readying to close, sounded their piercing, rapid-fire alarm. He heard them slide shut behind him, like a giant paper cutter running its slide. They muted a screaming five-year-old back in the carriage. No doubt the screaming continued, but all Kovac could hear was a heavy, electric motor. It wound up and carried the train and child away.
Small mercies.
He made his way off the platform and out of the station. The weather had cleared up. The afternoon sun was warm on his face, the sky blue, the trees a brilliant green. He walked along narrow streets with parked cars and other pedestrians, using his GPS to close in on Wilson Software Solutions. He was here to finish what he had started with Bibi Dauguet, looking to exploit any and all weaknesses in Luther Curzon’s digital defenses while they still existed. From what he could tell, Wilson Software Solutions had been integral in this hack, and perhaps also in posting his identity and records onto the dark web. At the very least, the place warranted a visit before Kovac left London for good. Who knew what a quick “chat” with terrified employees might reveal?
The further Kovac walked, the fewer people there were. Soon, the only real sound was his footfall. He was navigating a long-vacant block boarded up with ply, checking for a tail, when Megan’s message came through. It gave him details for a charter flight to Vienna later in the day, and results of police door-knocking – door-knocking that had presumably been expedited at Curzon’s request.
It was a long message, and Kovac didn’t let himself get too lost in it. He read it while continually glancing up and covering all potential angles of attack. He was, after all, now up for sale.
By the time he got to the end of the ply, he knew that police visits to the first two names on Megan’s list of coders – the list provided by Griffin and cross-checked by Juliette – had produced nothing. Paul Kante and Jules Gasly’s apartments had both been empty. And not just empty: deep-cleaned, ready-for-the-arrival-of-new-tenants empty. Megan had added a photo of each man. Kante was black, Gasly white.
Kovac read on. Cursory searches of these apartments had found nothing, though Kovac doubted the officers had checked for material hidden in the floor, walls or ceiling. Had they poked, prodded and peeled?
No way.
If there were any little latches, any hinges, any small imperfections or finger holds, they wouldn’t be found now. Kovac had time for this one run at Kapoor, but after that he was going to need to haul ass to the airport.
A woman passed him on the narrow pavement without incident, and Kovac returned to reading.
Addresses for the two coders Curzon had fired – Jarrod Sims and Jai Krathwohl – had caused more of a flap. Both men had been found dead. One hanging by his neck, the other an overdose. Each appeared to have been drinking heavily beforehand, which to Kovac’s way of thinking meant foul play.
Kante and Gasly too, then, most likely.
While Kovac was happy to concede Sims had downed a bottle of something and succumbed to despair, a similar drinking session and a needle in the arm for Krathwohl on the same day stretched credulity. Add two vaca
nt apartments, and it had the feel of someone cleaning up loose ends. Kovac’s guess was someone in his old line of work – the alcohol had likely been forced down their throats, or perhaps offered as a way to soothe nerves before death. He had done both at various points in his career.
Megan had sent photos of Sims and Krathwohl, too. Underneath those, she had added one last message. It read: “of the four, Sims worked for Curzon longest. we have limited records of the other three, due to hack. take note – police interested in Krathwohl for soccer stadium bombing. was there when you were. bombmaking equipment found at his apartment.”
Kovac didn’t bother to speculate on this via text. He replied simply: “Good work. Thanks. See you at the airport.”
He arrived at the edge of a housing estate and found himself at the start of another long, narrow street. He was checking a triangular nook off to the left of the pavement for threats, when he saw an SUV enter the street at the far end.
And then another.
Tinted windows, Kovac noted. And thudding music.
Familiar. He checked the license plate on the first SUV and wasn’t surprised to see was a perfect match with the SUV at Putney Bridge. These were his kid killers, back to finish the job Christopher Diaz had botched.
Kovac made quick decisions, but rarely did he make them with his gut alone. His gut had just scrunched itself into a knot. If his gut had its way, he would’ve started jumping walls and ducking under tree branches, going rabbit to avoid a drive-by. Instead, he came back to the principles Bishop had once taught him, and which he had reinforced as a SEAL. Could he flip this, could he exploit their faith in their own stealth and commandeer the element of surprise? Yes. And he could do it while maintaining a modicum of security, too. It came down to the terrain, which was in his favor. Not heavily in his favor, but enough.
Prioritize and execute… and the priority for the next few seconds was to play dumb.
He kept walking, as if the SUVs weren’t a concern, all the while gauging the distance between himself and the small nook. The nook had a dumpster and two bollards, both of which Kovac would utilize.
Too close. He saw he needed to slow down or he would overshoot it before the SUVs arrived.
