by Andrew Watts
Sims walked over to the landline phone, picked it up, and began dialing.
“Who are you calling?” Weng asked.
“Rinaldi.”
Weng’s head hung low. Rinaldi was working out of the FBI’s San Francisco field office a lot more after the attack on Pax AI’s headquarters. And with the situation in Capri, it was looking like their tech counterintelligence unit would probably get shut down.
“Hey, it’s Jennifer. I’m calling you on the secure line because we have a situation. Weng’s going to fill you in. Here you go.”
Sims held out the receiver and Weng took it, preparing herself to get an ass-chewing when she was done. Rinaldi had a lot of questions. He wanted to know everything. The more he spoke, the more Weng realized she had screwed up by not telling them straightaway. The moment Colt called her, she should have reported it.
Sims could hear the pain and embarrassment in Weng’s voice. Mercifully, she left the room.
Rinaldi and Sims were seasoned counterintelligence pros with the FBI. Together, they had decades of experience catching criminals and uncovering moles. For all of Weng’s knowledge about running agents and intelligence operations, she hadn’t worked in a situation where her teammates’ loyalty might be in question. She’d cut her teeth in Iraq and spent years in Southeast Asia. Maybe this Silicon Valley economic espionage stuff just wasn’t her forte.
Weng hung up the phone and Sims brought her a fresh cup of coffee. “Thanks,” Weng said, taking a sip.
Sims sat next to her. “You done screwed up, girl. But don’t worry. We’re going to fix it. He coming downtown?”
“Rinaldi? Yeah, he should be here in twenty minutes or so. Said he was going to bring some agents with him to go through the video files. Forensic specialists, or something.”
“Video files?”
“Yeah, from the hotel the night that Kozlov was killed.”
Sims frowned. “That’s what you’ve been looking for all morning? What does Colt want with those records?”
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me. But I couldn’t find them anyway. The folders were deleted.”
“Let me see.”
Weng stepped aside and Sims sat at the keyboard, clicking with her mouse and typing in her password. “Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“Someone’s deleted them.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Yes, but that shouldn’t be possible. We have a two-person rule, to prevent . . .” Sims looked at Weng, pouting.
“How’s that work? The two-person rule?”
“Any codeword-level surveillance files in our system need authorization from two of us before they can be deleted. It’s a safeguard against human error, for one, and prevents a mole in our midst from having free rein. Because a mole inside our office could cover his tracks, or protect other moles, in theory.”
“So, if you need two people to delete files, how . . .”
“How did someone do it? I don’t know. Maybe it’s not deleted? Maybe it’s just archived.”
“Where would the archived file be?”
“Probably in the server in the back room.”
“Is there a username that would show who archived it? Can they do it remotely?”
“No. There is no identity in the system. And we’re a closed system. So they would have to be in this building, connected to our server.”
“What about a timestamp? Can we tell when they did it?”
Sims squirmed. “I don’t know, actually.”
Weng said, “Do you mind if I try something? I think if I go into the system memory, I can tell when the files were archived.” Sims moved aside and Weng clicked the mouse until she found what she was looking for. “Here. 5:02 a.m. This was the morning after Kozlov was killed. Whoever archived those files, this would lead to the evidence Colt is looking for.”
Sims was massaging her temples. “Or you may find video of Colt archiving those files.”
“Colt wasn’t here then.”
Sims nodded. “Touché.”
Weng rose and headed to the back room. “I’m going to see if I can dig it up.”
“You want some help?”
“Nah, this room’s smaller than a closet, I’ll do it.”
Weng reached the classified server main computer and began searching for video files archived the day after Kozlov’s death.
Nothing.
“Jennifer!”
“What?”
“Are those archive times in local?”
“How should I know?”
What if 5:02 a.m. wasn’t local time? What if it was UTC? Weng clicked on the previous day’s archived files and found what she was looking for. She was even able to un-archive the files and watch the video footage.
She was looking at the raw surveillance video of Kozlov in his hotel room. It showed them carrying the body out after his killing.
Poor bastard.
She paused the video, confused by something she had noticed.
The hotel walls were clean.
Weng distinctly remembered seeing a lot of blood on the walls when she had watched the footage. That had been one of the more disturbing parts of the surveillance video. Watching the man’s flesh and blood painted on the hotel wall by a fifty-caliber round was something you didn’t forget.
But these walls were clean.
She unpaused the video.
And went pale.
“Holy fucking shit . . .”
Weng wasn’t watching surveillance footage of Kozlov’s body being carried out of the hotel.
Kozlov’s body was being carried in.
“He was dead before he got there.”
But then that meant . . .
“Rinaldi’s here!” Sims called from the other room. “And he brought his agents.”
42
Two weeks earlier
“Would you like anything to drink?” Sheryl asked.
“Nothing for me,” Rinaldi said.
Guy Hawkinson sat next to his sister, studying him. Rinaldi admired the man for his contributions to the cause. And his contributions to Rinaldi’s cryptocurrency accounts. But Guy Hawkinson was still creepy, as were his two human attack dogs observing from twenty-five yards away, by the mansion.
The Hawkinsons were always lean and hungry-looking, both seemingly ready to devour whoever lay in front of them. And that was what Rinaldi sensed they expected here.
“What do you got?” Rinaldi asked, trying to project strength.
Sheryl said, “This is going to be a very delicate matter. But if we’re going to continue on with our relationship, it’s something we need your help with.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Sheryl.”
She said, “A scientist will go missing at Pax AI. I need to make sure that any investigation into this person’s whereabouts doesn’t lead to anyone inside the company.”
Rinaldi raised his eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask more questions about this.”
Guy leaned forward, his voice stern. “Ask them.”
Rinaldi said, “Is a body going to turn up?”
“Not if we don’t want it to,” Guy said.
Rinaldi closed his eyes in pain, and then opened them. “Fuck, Sheryl. What are you asking here? You’ve got a dead scientist that you need to hide?”
“We need to hide him.”
“Why we? How am I involved in this?”
“Because of our relationship. The person in question may have significant value to Pax AI. And my understanding is that Pax AI has significant value to the US government.”
Rinaldi frowned. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Kozlov.”
Rinaldi let the air escape his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You know the name?”
“I do,” Rinaldi said. “Do you know how I know his name?”
Sheryl and Guy looked at each other in confusion, which Rinaldi enjoyed. “No,” the sister said.
&n
bsp; “Because we plan to speak with him in Seattle in a few days. Let’s keep that here within our circle, if you please.”
Guy let out a snort. “That’s not going to happen.”
Rinaldi narrowed his eyes, and then realization struck. “So when you say that he’s going to go missing, can I assume he already is missing?”
“You may.”
Rinaldi sighed. “I’d appreciate a little more lead time to prepare in the future. Look, I really value this partnership. You guys have helped eliminate a lot of Chinese espionage operations. Some that the government knows about, and some they frankly don’t need to know about. But I can sleep well at night knowing I’m helping our country and getting properly compensated for my services. I’m fully on board with our arrangement. Lord knows the FBI doesn’t pay me as well as Mr. Hawkinson’s outfit pays me, and I feel like we’re a good team. I’ve always tried to do right by you. But this is a big ask. And it’s on short notice. And it seems our paths have coincidentally crossed on this one. I am going to have a hard time explaining to my team why we shouldn’t be worried about one of our new informants going missing.”
Sheryl and Guy exchanged a look of alarm. Sheryl said, “Your new informant? So . . . you have Kozlov on your payroll?”
“Not yet. But that was the plan.”
Guy began laughing. When he calmed down, he said, “Seriously. How do we make sure there is no concern about an investigation leading back to the company?”
“I’m not sure it’s in my best interests to help.”
Guy started to get upset, but Sheryl held out her hand to calm him. “I’m afraid this is crucially important, Mr. Rinaldi. You see, we suspect a Chinese agent has penetrated Pax AI, very high up. We’ve almost got that person identified. But if this investigation turns Pax AI upside down, I’m afraid our private anti-Chinese espionage operation will have to be shut down. We can’t risk keeping it open, due to the proximity of our own operations inside the company. And if that happens, our payments to you will come to a stop. And God forbid, if we were ever investigated carefully, a trained special agent like yourself might be able to find a trail back to you.”
Rinaldi frowned at that. “I’ve always been very careful. And I hope you would never say anything.”
“Oh God, no. That’s not something you need to worry about. Not really. But you just never know with that type of thing.”
Rinaldi sulked. “Well it would have been a lot better if we could have confirmed that Kozlov was in an area unrelated to the company. Can we do that?”
“Sure. We can have the body wherever you need it.”
Rinaldi said, “But anybody can move a body. Forensics will be a problem. They’ll be able to tell when and how he died. For this to work, you need to leave no question that he actually died somewhere else. Construct solid evidence. Video, if possible. Can you do that?”
Sheryl said, “When and where was your meeting supposed to be? I may have an idea. An AI program I just observed might come in handy. But we’ll need help from some friends. You won’t want to know them.”
Rinaldi shrugged. “Long as it doesn’t come back to bite me.”
After Rinaldi left the home, Petrov came down from the second floor where he had been observing with surveillance equipment.
“Quite an asset you have developed,” said Petrov, taking the glass of scotch that Guy Hawkinson offered.
“He’s been extremely productive,” said Sheryl.
Guy said, “And now you know it wasn’t the Americans who killed Kozlov. Well, it wasn’t the FBI anyway.”
Petrov said, “I should tell my subordinate not to travel to Seattle. She was planning to meet with Kozlov there on the same day the FBI planned to meet with him.”
Sheryl could see Petrov’s mind spinning at that thought. Rinaldi hadn’t revealed how the FBI knew to recruit Kozlov. But Kozlov’s handler, whoever she was, would surely become the target of a counterintelligence operation now. Poor girl.
Guy said, “I don’t recommend that. We need the Americans to think everything is normal. If there is even a remote possibility your subordinate may be the leak there, then I suggest you say nothing. Let her find out on her own. You may learn whether or not she is loyal by how she reacts. Besides, do you have enough resources to run two operations at once in Seattle?”
“What operations am I running?”
Guy said, “I’ll need some of your contractors. They’re going to make it look like Kozlov is shot through his hotel window, right after the FBI interrogates him.”
Petrov’s expression slowly transformed into one of amusement. “This does not sound like a good idea. There are many potential problems, I think.”
Guy held up his hand. “Hear out our plan first. This could solve a lot of issues. And when we’re done, you’ll have extremely good kompromat on Special Agent Rinaldi. He’ll have to begin feeding you names just to save his own skin.”
Petrov sipped his drink and nodded. “Okay. Let me hear your idea.”
Present day
Weng heard a loud crack that caused her to jump in her seat. She rose slowly, peeking around the corner at the main room of the safehouse.
Sims’s body lay on the floor, blood pooled around her.
Weng felt the area around her hip where she used to carry a sidearm, back when she was stationed overseas. Nothing there now but her cellphone.
Footsteps in the other room. She had an immediate urge to pee. The long fingers of death approaching. She took out her cellphone and found the number of Colt’s last call. She typed in a text. Weng had just pressed send when she saw the gunman, tattoo on his arm, raising a suppressed submachine gun. He emptied several rounds into her body as Rinaldi stood behind him, averting his eyes.
43
Colt stood on the stone promenade next to the Villa Jovis ruins. He and Wilcox were near the guardrails, far enough away from the others that they could speak privately, the thousand-foot cliff just beyond. A serene blue sea was sprinkled with the white wakes of multimillion-dollar yachts and the dark shore of mainland Italy on the horizon.
“What is Kim doing here?” Colt said. Two men he hoped were CIA special operations group were keeping Jeff Kim very close.
Wilcox said, “That’s what we’re going to find out. We picked him up from a villa on the other side of the island, on Annacapri, about an hour ago.”
“How’d you know to look there?”
“The NSA picked up communication between the Trinity broker and the house he was being held at. We traced it to that location and found him. He was tied up on a bed with no one else in the house.”
“Ed, the Israelis got a warning from US intelligence about a Russian operation here on Capri. They got the warning one hour before the chemical attack. Why didn’t you tell me that?”
Wilcox shook his head. “Colt, I never received that information. To be honest, I’ve heard very little from the operations guys since I left.”
“Is Rinaldi on the team?”
Wilcox saw where he was going, and his face darkened. “Yes.”
“Ed, I asked Heather Weng to look into something for me. But I want to ask you. The day Kozlov died. Did you ever see him alive with your own eyes?”
Wilcox frowned. “I saw him on the surveillance cam.”
“Not what I mean.”
“Then no, I didn’t.” His voice was low.
Colt took out the burner phone the Israelis had loaned him to contact Heather Weng. He held up the screen for Wilcox to see.
Weng: Rinaldi installed Kozlov’s surveillance video day of interview. No one else allowed in room by his order, according to FBI records. I just watched unedited video that was archived. They brought Kozlov’s dead body into the room. The surveillance videos were faked. SOS
Colt turned to look at Wilcox, whose eyes were wide. “Oh my God . . .”
“Yeah.”
“What’s with the SOS?”
Colt frowned. “I don’t know for sure, but I haven’t
heard from her since.”
Wilcox cursed.
Colt turned to look at Jeff Kim, who was staring back at them from thirty feet away. “Why is Kim here, Ed? Who brought him here, and why would they have left him unattended?”
Wilcox said, “Let’s go ask him.”
“In a minute. I need to ask you a few more questions.” Colt felt his face growing hot. “You brought me to San Francisco to identify traitors within Pax AI, and to learn about the intentions of their inner circle. But you purposely steered me away from investigating Sheryl Hawkinson.”
“Now that was different. She’s a minefield for us. Her uncle is a senator on the Intel Committee. One wrong move and we’d be on the chopping block—”
“You weren’t trying to protect her?”
Wilcox looked hurt. “No. Of course not.”
“The Israelis told me that Sheryl Hawkinson and her brother met with someone who works as an American counterintelligence officer. They don’t know which one. And that the SVR’s Houston rezident, Petrov, was also present.”
Colt watched Wilcox’s reaction carefully.
Wilcox looked genuinely shocked. “When did this happen?”
“Two days before Kozlov was killed.”
“Rinaldi.”
Colt said, “That’s my guess too. How did he do this under our noses, Ed?”
Wilcox shook his head. “We have known there was a leak somewhere in our West Coast tech spy network for a while now. The Russians were learning a lot of our operational details in the area. We had a statistician go through all our data. The numbers were eye-popping. We haven’t been able to catch anyone of importance in their network for more than three years. At the same time, we were having a ton of success at identifying and curtailing Chinese operations. The numbers discrepancy was more than just an issue of the Russians using good tradecraft or having fewer spies. We determined the Russians had someone on the inside.”
“And the reason you didn’t tell me . . . is because you thought it could have been me?”
