Against All Odds

by Richard Bard

  Tony said. “But not without using the tech first for their nefarious needs.”

  “I can’t comment on that.”

  Tony grunted.

  “So what makes this new RAT of yours so special?” Ahmed asked. “Do you have one here?”

  Marshall’s brow furrowed as if he was considering how much to reveal. Finally he shrugged and said, “It’s right in front of you.” He pointed to a black box the size of a cigarette pack connected to his laptop with a USB cord.

  “That thing’s huge compared to a thumb drive. What good is that?”

  Marshall grinned. “Watch.” He brushed the pad of his middle finger up and down his shirtsleeve, as if wiping off any residue or oil. Then he gently pressed his fingertip on the small box, and when he lifted his hand, a thin, postage stamp-sized piece of film was stuck to his finger. Ahmed and Sarafina leaned in for a closer look. It was transparent, and Ahmed could barely make out the lines of circuitry embedded within.

  “It’s tiny,” Sarafina said.

  “Good things come in small packages.”

  “But it needs to be attached to the box to work, right?” Ahmed asked.

  “Nope. That’s the beauty of it. It will self-adhere to metal or plastic, and once attached, it’s practically invisible. Stick it on a computer case, external hard drive, or even the back of a monitor, and the next time the user logs in, it’ll automatically create the back door and send the key over the internet. It draws a trickle charge from the surface static electricity of the device it’s attached to. That’s enough to keep it alive while it’s waiting for log-in, but when activated, it’s designed to generate a burst transmission that will send the key. That’s the part I’m tweaking now.” He appraised the tiny chip like a proud father. “But the real beauty of this little RAT is its relative invisibility, because even if the user identifies the breach and backstops it with new protocols and passwords, unless they notice the chip itself and remove it, the RAT will simply reactivate the next time the user logs in.” He placed the chip back on the black box.

  Sarafina shook her head in amazement. “You rock, Uncle Marshall.”

  Marshall beamed. “I love this stuff. Now skedaddle. I need to—”

  The computer chirped. Marshall clicked a glowing icon at the bottom of the screen. “Got a hit on the darknet.” The home page of an auction site popped up. Mom and the others crowded around while Marshall flew through a complicated registration process. “The site requires confirmation of funds up front. Serious money. All in bitcoins.” Ahmed had trouble keeping up as Marshall switched from one screen to another, his fingers dancing to music only he could hear. The best Ahmed could tell, Marshall was creating a false account using a darknet banking site he appeared to be familiar with. A minute later he was back at the auction site entering data. A popup window indicated his registration was accepted and assigned him the username BIDDER1539.

  Dad’s image appeared on the screen.

  Chapter 2

  “WE’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING!” Francesca said, staring at the laptop screen. Jake was zip-tied to a chair, his wrists bleeding from his efforts to break free. The bidding for his head had climbed to nearly 3 million dollars. She couldn’t believe what was happening. He’d returned from the dead, only to be killed again?

  Marshall quick-tabbed back to the map view of Bogota. The locator in Jake’s phone was still blinking. He captured a screen shot and tabbed back to Jake’s streaming video image. “I know exactly where he is. I’ll send his location to the local authorities.” He reached for his smartphone and opened a web browser.

  “Look,” Lacey said, as Jake’s attention on the screen snapped to something happening off camera.

  Francesca leaned in. Jake’s countenance had changed. Was that hope she saw on her husband’s face?

  “He looks like he’s about to pounce,” Tony said, confirming her suspicions.

  “Got it,” Marshall said, tapping his phone to initiate a phone call. “Bogota National Police Department. It’s ringing.”

  “You sure they can’t trace the call?” Tony asked.

  Marshall nodded.

  Francesca ignored them. She couldn’t take her eyes from the screen. Sarafina and Lacey were right there with her, and she felt Ahmed place a hand on her back as if to give her strength. It was an unusual act for her touch-sensitive son, and she appreciated it.

  “Come on Dad,” Ahmed muttered. “You can do it.”

  The video froze, and bold letters across the image announced: AUCTION PAUSED. STAY TUNED.

  “What happened?” Sarafina asked.

  “Get it back,” Francesca said.

  Marshall spoke into the phone, “Uh, yes hello. Un momento por favor.” He pressed his thumb over the mouthpiece to mute it. “Should I give them the location?”

  “My gut says no,” Tony said. “Whatever’s happening, it’s gonna come to a head any second. I’ve seen that look in Jake’s eyes too many times not to recognize it. He’s gotta plan. We need to let it unfold without our interference.”

  Marshall disconnected the call. Everyone stared at the frozen image of Jake’s defiant expression. Francesca’s heart pounded in her chest, and the only sound in the room was the tap of Ahmed’s shoes as he paced behind her. A cascade of angry comments scrolled in a window at the bottom of the screen. Bidders demanded the auction to proceed as promised, and several registered their fury at the possibility that Jake’s execution was being conducted off camera. Francesca’s stomach reeled at their bloodlust.

  They waited a minute, then two. Francesca felt like her insides would explode. Suddenly the video image returned, except the camera had fallen to the ground. She had to turn her head sideways to view the cockeyed scene—and could barely believe her eyes. Jake pushed to his feet among a tangle of broken chair parts and rushed off camera. The view that remained was limited to the splinters of wood scattered on the plastic sheeting, and the wall behind it.

  “Daddy!” Sarafina shouted.

  “Get ’em!” Ahmed spat.

  Tony and Marshall high-fived. Lacey whispered to Francesca, “If anybody could get out of that mess, it’s Jake.”

  “But is he out?” Marshall asked. “Damn, I wish there was sound.”

  Tony answered, “Trust me. He’s kicking ass. Nothing’s gonna stop him from getting free.”

  “But what about Alex?” Francesca asked. “How’s he involved in all this? Has Jake found him yet?”

  No one answered.

  “Hang on,” Lacey said. “Can you scroll back on those comments?”

  “Sure.” Marshall split the screen horizontally and brought up the comments section.

  “There!” Lacy said, pointing at the screen. Marshall stopped scrolling.

  The comment read: WHAT ABOUT THE BOY? DO YOU HAVE HIM OR NOT?

  Francesca’s mouth went dry.

  “That’s gotta be about Alex,” Marshall said.

  The next comment read: YEAH, WHAT ABOUT HIS KID?

  “Nooo!” Sarafina said.

  Tony placed a hand on her shoulder. “Actually, that’s good news. If the bidders know about Alex, then so does Jake.” Francesca looked up at him. What he said made sense. And if Jake was free, he wouldn’t stop until he had their son in hand.

  They watched and waited, and after an unbearable minute or two of inactivity on the video stream, Marshall tabbed back to the satellite map. “He’s moved!” The blinking icon had shifted to a tree-studded area across the street from the building.

  “He got away,” Ahmed gasped.

  Lacey said, “Which means Alex must be with him.”

  “It’s moving,” Sarafina said. “Across the park. Fast.”

  Tony clapped once. “Too fast to be running. He grabbed a vehicle.”

  The icon moved onto the streets at the other end of the park, and as it sped toward the outskirts of town, Francesca allowed herself to breathe again. The icon stopped at the fenced edge of an airport, and then proceeded at a much slower pace onto
the grounds behind a line of hangars.

  “He’s going to steal an airplane,” Marshall said.

  “Of course he is,” Lacey said.

  Sarafina squeezed her mother’s hand. “They’re safe. Coming home.”

  Ten minutes later the icon increased speed down the runway, and Francesca knew everything was going to be all right.

  “Wait a second,” Marshall said. “He’s heading the wrong way.”

  ***

  Ahmed’s frustration grew as he watched his mom bury her face in her hands. They’d been monitoring Dad’s signal for the past thirty minutes. It had flickered on and off several times, and now they feared it was off for good. Even so, the track of the airplane had been well established. Dad was heading south toward Brazil, and supposedly Alex was with him. Marshall had explained the tracker was dependent on available Wi-Fi or cellular signal, and that once the plane was over uninhabited terrain, the tracker would no longer transmit. The region was a vast rainforest.

  “Call him again,” Lacey said, referring to the satellite phone Jake had brought with him. Marshall had already called twice.

  “It’s no use,” Marshall said. “He either doesn’t have the sat phone or he’s switched it off.”

  “Where the hell is he going?” Tony asked.

  “And why didn’t he call us?” Lacey added.

  The same questions kept rolling around in Ahmed’s mind. It didn’t make sense. While they’d waited for the signal to come back, Marshall had uncovered breaking news reports in Bogota about the crime scene where Jake had been held captive. There were dead bodies everywhere, including that of a teenage American boy, and hints of a connection with a human trafficking ring. But Dad and Alex weren’t mentioned, and that fueled their belief the two had made it out of there safely. But wouldn’t they have headed home after their escape?

  “It has something to do with the visions,” Sarafina said.

  Everyone stared at Sarafina.

  “What else could it be?” Sarafina continued. “Think about it, Mom. Dad’s gone through a lot since the three of us found that first pyramid, but he’s never had visions before. But it was a vision that allowed him to figure out that Alex was in Bogota, and you’ve got to know that it had something to do with the mini. Do you remember how he simply brushed past the topic of visions when he bolted out of here?”

  Francesca nodded.

  “He obviously didn’t want to talk about it. We were all still in a state of shock that he was even alive, or you would’ve pressed him on it, right? I mean, come on, he has visions for the first time ever. What’s that all about?”

  “She’s right,” Ahmed said. “Dad was hiding something.”

  Mom’s lips tightened. She shook her head. “More damn secrets.”

  Lacey said, “Maybe so. But after everything we’ve been through together, you can bet he kept it from us for a good reason.”

  “No reason is good enough,” Mom said. “Not anymore.”

  “It must be something big if he’s willing to put us through hell while he deals with it,” Marshall said. “As usual, he wants to keep us out of harm’s way.”

  Mom glared. “So he takes our youngest child with him?”

  Tony said, “He wouldn’t do that unless he was forced to. But if you’re right that this has something to do with the miniature pyramid, then it makes sense that Alex is dead in the middle of it, too. He was connected to the grid every bit as much as Jake.”

  “You think this is about the grid…?” Mom’s voice trailed off, and everyone became quiet as the possibility sank in.

  Tony was the first to break the silence. “Screw this. Jake needs help.” He grabbed one of the encrypted phones and left the room.

  “What’s that about?” Marshall asked.

  “It’s time to reach out to our friends,” Lacey said, grabbing another phone and punching in a number.

  A half hour later, Tony had a duffel slung over his shoulder and the keys to the pickup truck in his hand. He wore sunglasses and the fishing cap he’d found in the motor home.

  “Bring them home to us, Tony,” Mom said.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Sarafina gave the big man a hug. “You don’t even know where Dad and Alex are going.”

  “I will as soon as your pop switches that sat phone back on, right, Marsh?”

  “Yep. Or when he comes in range of Wi-Fi or a cell tower. I’ll let you know the instant that happens.”

  Sarafina stepped back, and Tony turned to face Ahmed, who stood by the door with his arms crossed. He’d pleaded to go along but Tony had refused, giving him some bull about staying behind to protect his mom and sister.

  Tony held out his hand. A part of Ahmed wanted to shove it away, but he wouldn’t allow himself to disrespect Tony in that way. The man was headed into unknown territory to save Ahmed’s father and brother. Tony was a warrior, and Ahmed had learned when he was a child in the mountains of Afghanistan that such men deserved respect.

  He clasped Tony’s wrist in a soldier’s handshake. It was the type of interaction normally reserved for a fellow soldier, and even if Tony didn’t recognize Ahmed as such, he knew in his gut it was so.

  “You honor us all, Tony. May Allah protect you.”

  The gaze Ahmed received in return meant a lot to him. But it wasn’t the man-to-man exchange he yearned for, and Ahmed promised himself that one day he’d earn the warrior’s full respect.

  Chapter 3

  Bogota, Colombia

  One hour earlier

  JAKE PULLED THE DIRT BIKE over on a ridge overlooking Aeropuerto Guaymaral. The single-strip, general aviation airport was eighteen kilometers north of Bogota. It was a base for a pilot training school, and home to over a hundred small to midsize aircraft of various types. After Jake switched off the motor, he and Alex slid off the bike. It had been a tense ride there, both constantly looking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. But they’d escaped unnoticed, and Jake allowed himself to relax for a moment.

  Alex hadn’t spoken a word since saying good-bye to his friends, one of whom had sacrificed his life to save them. Jake crouched down and clasped his son’s shoulders. “You okay?”

  Alex blew out a breath. He nodded. “I will be. But I’m worried about my friends.”

  His son had been through hell and back, and his first concern was for kids he hadn’t known until a couple of days ago. “There’s no way anyone’s going to find them in that massive crowd at the concert.” He considered the devastation left in their wake. The woman, the dirty cops, the guards—all dead. The police would have their hands full dealing with that, giving the kids plenty of time to get away. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “I hope so, Dad. They’re good kids. They deserve some peace.”

  Jake suspected his son was speaking about himself as well. But despite receiving what amounted to a death sentence, Alex had shown he was not one to wallow in self-pity. Instead, he’d focused on helping others.

  “You’re a remarkable boy. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  Jake smiled. “I guess you know where we’re headed.”

  “Yeah, and I get the feeling we’d better hurry. You know how we’re going to get there?”

  Jake stared at the airfield down below. “I’ve given it some thought.”

  “I figured you might’ve.”

  “It’s a long way.”

  “Eleven hundred and twenty-five kilometers as the crow flies. That’s six hundred and ninety-six miles.”

  “Show-off,” Jake said, mussing his son’s hair.

  “No. If I was showing off, I would have said 695.935735 miles.” Alex forced a smile.

  “I could have said that, too, you know.”

  “As I said, like father, like son.”

  “Let me see those binoculars your friend gave you. We need to upgrade our ride.”

  ***

  An hour later he and Al
ex were flying over the treetops of the vast Chingaza National Park in the Eastern Cordillera of the Andes mountain range. The three hundred-hp engine of the Cessna U206 Amphibian purred like a kitten, and while the worn interior of the forty-year-old, six-passenger aircraft showed signs of its age, it was apparent the power plant and systems had been well maintained.

  Finding an airplane that could go the distance had been the easy part. Finding an amphibian, now that, had been a stroke of luck. There weren’t many airports in the depths of the Amazon rainforest, but there were plenty of waterways. The Cessna had been one of several aircraft parked on the tarmac outside a commercial flight school. It was located in an isolated area at one end of the airfield, and at that late hour the only people around were a couple of bored security guards, whom they’d bound and gagged behind a hangar. Jake had gassed up the plane and taken off without clearance. That’s when all hell had broken loose, and the controller had blared warnings over his headset. Jake had made some pleas about a medical emergency, and that had bought him just enough time to disappear into the mountains.

  He’d headed north at first, to throw off any pursuit. Then he’d broadcast an emergency message that he’d lost power and was going down. Thirty seconds later he’d switched off the transponder and GPS, dove for the deck, and altered course toward Brazil, hugging the treetops to stay off radar.

  Jake closed himself off to all but the energy from the mini, taking care to tap only enough to heighten his vision in the night sky. Flying this low was dangerous, particularly in unfamiliar mountainous terrain. The aircraft had its own radar but he couldn’t risk using it, so a hundred percent of his focus was required as he maneuvered the plane through one narrow canyon after another. When they finally broke clear of the mountain range, the rolling agricultural plains of Colombia’s heartland stretched to the horizon in a patchwork quilt of rich fields. It was nearly midnight, and avoiding the few clusters of lights below was an easy matter.