Natural Born_A Political Technothriller Series

by John Hindmarsh

  An hour or so later Toby contacted Carla Westwood, his Euler Organization’s property manager; she was a member of his senior management team.

  “Yes, Toby?”

  “Carla, do we have residential property in DC?”

  “Let me check.” A moment later she said, “Yes. All I can say is wow! There’s a five bedroom, freestanding home in Georgetown. It has separate accommodation for a cook and housekeeper. I also have a Drexel report dated two years ago. They surveyed it for security purposes and apparently ranked it as satisfactory plus. Not sure what that means. I’ll send you all the photos. You’ll like it.”

  “Can you check if we have any employees there?”

  “Yes. Juan should know. I’ll ask him to brief you. Is that all?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The call disconnected.

  Drexel was next.

  “I thought it was far too quiet. Toby, what can I do for you?”

  “I have two topics. One, would you like to be acquired by the Euler Organization? We can supply lots of security bots. That’s a serious question, one that’s been in my mind for some time. Think about it. I won’t harbor ill feelings if you say no. Second topic. Darwin and I have been invited to Congress.” He provided the date. “It’s three weeks away, so not that much time to organize whatever you require. You did a security survey of Nate’s property, a house in Georgetown, according to Carla. You graded it satisfactory plus. Let me know if that’s still your assessment.”

  “When you hit, you really do. Takeover? I’ll put that on the back burner to consider. Now, Washington. I assume Billie will be going, too?”

  “Yes. The three of us; that includes Darwin. We’ll ship six security bots in advance. Let me know what team you’ll send. I’d like Drew as leader, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’ll be in real brownshirt territory. I’ll discuss the trip with Drew and others, and come back to you with a security structure. Give me two days.”

  “Done.”

  Toby ended the call.

  He turned to Billie. “The wheels are turning.”

  oOo

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darwin joined Toby for the meeting with Special Agent Raymond Reynolds; it had been over a month since they’d last met and Toby wanted to put pressure on the agent, to ensure the FBI was reacting seriously to the threats against him, Billie, and Darwin.

  The FBI vehicle was cleared by the security team at the front gate and minutes later Reynolds entered the house. He was accompanied by two agents, one of whom was new and the other was the junior agent, Gabriele Diaz, who had tried to surreptitiously record their last meeting. The agents were escorted by two security bots.

  Reynolds introduced the new agent, “This is Agent Irina Rublev; she’s joined us recently from DC.”

  One of the bots moved close to the new agent. Toby listened to Bronwyn who said, “Irina is American-born, graduate of the University of Texas. Her age is twenty-six. Started a year ago with the FBI. Regarded as a rising star. Her parents were refugees, now both deceased. Nothing adverse, no brownshirt relationship recorded. She has a younger brother studying at Harvard. His name is Frederick and I’m checking him. I suggest caution until I’m finished.”

  Toby said, “Welcome and please sit. Thank you, Agent Reynolds, for your time.”

  “Toby, as I’ve mentioned before, call me Raymond, please. You are one of the VIPs our office has responsibility for, as you know. We have your safety at heart.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that. I’m also pleased to hear Agent Diaz left her cell phone in your vehicle.” Bronwyn had communicated that snippet. The young agent tried to hide her embarrassment.

  “I think that lesson has been learned.”

  Darwin coughed.

  Toby looked at the SI and back at Reynolds. He said, “I’d like to introduce you to someone who will be also included on your VIP list. This is Darwin. You may have seen his interview or appearance on various channels on the weekend?”

  “Indeed. Darwin, I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Darwin nodded and the two shook hands.

  Reynolds continued, “What can the FBI do for you, Toby? Darwin?”

  “We’re receiving hundreds, thousands, of threatening emails a day. The threats are serious. Billie is included. So are other members of the Euler Organization. We’re loathe to take action ourselves, and thought the FBI would be able to do that for us.” Toby handed a memory chip and a printout to Reynolds. “The printouts contain details of some of the worst threats and include our identification of the people who sent them. Some are local from here in California, most are American, and a few are foreign. The chip contains copies of the original emails. The threat count was nine thousand and forty-three as of yesterday. The threats range from murder, torture, and rape to assault, mutilation—there’s apparently some very inventive potential psychopaths with access to computers, and I’m not confident they all live in their parents’ basements.”

  Reynolds quickly leafed through the first three or four pages and handed the file to Agent Irina Rublev. She did the same and turned pale. She said, “Sir, Mr. McIntosh, these are horrendous.” She handed the file on to Agent Diaz, who read the first page and closed the file. Diaz didn’t comment. Her face was very pale.

  Reynolds said, “Toby, I assure you, we’ll take action. Horrendous. Also, please tell Miss Nile we’ll do everything we can, to find the people responsible for sending these.”

  “Raymond, we’ve done most of the work for you, at least for two hundred of the people who are the worst offenders. They are people we’ve categorized as most likely to carry out their threats. Sixty are brownshirt members and may be acting under the direction of their state leaders or Flocke.”

  Agent Rublev asked, “Sir, how did you categorize them?”

  “We explored their prior activities including charges and convictions. Also, we have information about brownshirt membership. It was relatively simple legwork. We decided it would give the FBI a running start.”

  Rublev nodded her head. “Of course. We will still need to carry out our own due process, though.”

  “Of course. Far more rapidly, I would hope. We are being threatened, and delays are something I will not countenance when it endangers my partner, my management team, and Darwin.”

  “I understand. Please, though do not take these matters into your own hands. We are not comfortable with people who do that. We will handle it.”

  Toby stared at the agent, trying to dampen down his anger. “I’ve not had good experiences with the FBI in the past in terms of our personal safety. Perhaps this will represent a turning point. I assume you’ve been briefed?”

  “Yes, sir. However—”

  “Reynolds, I don’t intend to sit here and argue with one of your new agents. If the FBI can guarantee our safety, well and good. Otherwise we will protect ourselves. I’m not going to stand down simply because the FBI has uttered vague reassurances and a possible threat.”

  “Toby, please. I understand your concerns. I assure you that Agent Rublev is aware of the dangers you and Miss Nile have faced. We will do everything possible to follow up on these new threats and deal with the people behind them.”

  “I’d like to add,” Darwin said, “I don’t rate the FBI very high. There have been failures and I can give you incontrovertible evidence, including examples of brownshirt influence reaching into the heart of the service.”

  The three agents stared at Darwin; it was as though he had grown an extra head. Reynolds was the first to speak. He said, “Darwin—I was unsure—I didn’t know you could speak. I suspected the media had used graphics to produce their interviews and your appearances. My apologies. We will do our best to protect you all.”

  Bronwyn said to Toby, “Irina’s brother is in danger. He’s been gambling, and the money men are threatening him. It’s a brownshirt sting. I’ve gathered evidence. Agent Rublev’s transfer to the Los Angeles office may have been instigated by
Flocke.”

  Toby said, “Agent Rublev, your brother is being threatened because of his gambling debts. Tell Frederick I can help him. Do not, under any circumstances, allow your good judgment to be biased against the Euler Organization. Do not, under any circumstances, work for the brownshirts.”

  “Sir, I don’t know—”

  “Don’t say you don’t know. I can produce evidence of his gambling debts. I can provide you with the identities of the men making threats, and details of who they report to. I can also provide evidence of their brownshirt membership.s Reynolds, work with Agent Rublev to resolve this. If she continues to claim she isn’t a potential brownshirt threat, she is to be removed from any cases involving the Euler Organization, my people, or me. You have one week.”

  “Damn it all. Rublev, you’ll work with me to resolve this. Toby, I’ll let you know the result. I agree, you’re being threatened and I don’t want any agent with a negative bias involved in the investigations.”

  oOo

  Chapter Sixteen

  Flocke paced the floor of his study. He’d watched a show that presented a superintelligence as some kind of superman and couldn’t credit the ready acceptance of the concept by both the panel and the audience. While there was some push back, the overall support was high. And the construct, this Darwin, wanted legislation passed to say that it was some kind of being. That, he promised himself, was not going to happen. This oddity belonged to his hit list, which included McIntosh and his mistress, and he wanted to discover who the real bot designers were so he could add them. There was no way, in his opinion, that non-humans, mechanical units, could be responsible for designing so many different types of bots.

  The problem was, of course, how he was going to carry out his acts of vengeance, revenge for the theft of his money; the bitcoins had doubled in value since their theft. He’d tried using false FBI agents and then real FBI agents, he had authorized sabotaging a brand new Tesla-built electric jet, and he had approved a Russian-led assault on Pepper Mountain. Nothing had succeeded. McIntosh led a charmed life.

  Perhaps there were still some different approaches he could use.

  Snyder reached for another beer, flipped the top, and tapped the bottle on the tabletop. “What t’fuck are you doing, Hill?” He slid another slice of pizza out of the box. He was in his late forties, balding, and had a mess of tattoos on both arms.

  Hill had finished his beer, washing down the last crust, and was busy with his laptop. He was in his early thirties, and from his build, he obviously worked out. His black hair reached his shoulders. He was wearing a Patriots cap. “Be patient, Roy. I’m on the site now. Look, I was right. Someone’s put up a job. Could be right up our street. See?” He spun the computer around so Snyder could see the screen. “It’s a contract to eliminate a nuisance. The guy wants experienced bidders.”

  Snyder picked up the last slice. “How t’fuck can we establish experience? I’m not listing our last five jobs for some fucking cop to use to come an’ find us.”

  “He just says ‘must be experienced.’ I’ll tell him just that. He’s offering half a mill, so it’s serious business.”

  “How do we know he’ll pay when we’re done?”

  “It’ll be the same as last time. The guy will put the bitcoins in escrow with the site’s paymaster and, when we produce evidence we’ve done the job, they’ll be transferred to us.”

  Reeves, who was using the kitchen table to reassemble a sniper rifle, a Kovrov, designed for penetration of thick walls and armored vehicles—as long as they were only lightly armored—sat up straight. He was heavily built, very fit, and had a buzz cut. He was in his late thirties. “How much did you say?”

  “Half a mill.”

  “Now, that’s serious. What say, Roy?”

  Snyder swallowed a mouthful of cheese and fried chicken crust. “Yeah. No. Maybe. If t’fucker can get the money into escrow, well an’ good.”

  Hill said, “I’ll dig deeper while I’m connected.” The site was part of the dark web, and it used encryption beyond that readily breakable without a mainframe running for a week. Forum members were vetted and only allowed membership if they could be recommended. Hill had carefully built his story so that it wouldn’t identify him, and had persuaded another member to back him. He was now well established, but only for kill jobs. No one knew his real name or had particulars that would identify him. The paymaster had honored contracts Hill had persuaded Snyder to take on, and he was confident if they could get clearance for this job, that they’d be a lot wealthier.

  “Okay, I’ve messaged the forum master. He’ll check whether we match the spec or not. We’ve got a good rep, now.”

  Snyder grunted and returned to his beer and pizza. He finished both and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Prince do a good meal,” he muttered to no one in particular.

  Reeves finished cleaning surplus oil from his weapon and carefully wrapped it and returned it to its scabbard. The weapon was newly acquired and he still needed to test fire it before he’d use it. The team always dumped any weapon they’d used on a contract, either way out to sea, or in a fire, ensuring its complete destruction.

  Reeves was the weapon master for the team. Snyder was the leader and strategist, a master sniper with three sandpit tours. Hill was their computer and communications expert. They were an effective three-man operation. Their earning rate had increased over the last couple of years and they all hoped it would keep increasing. Their ladies had expensive habits.

  Thirty minutes later Hill shouted. “We’ve got a green light. We got details, lots of details. The fee is in escrow. We have a month to perform. If we fail, they’ll deduct fifty percent from our next fee, for time wasting. Cheeky asses.”

  “How much can you print out?” Snyder liked to hold paper in his hand to read. Computer screens gave him a headache.

  “Damn. Most—wait, I’ll do it.” Hill knew hard copy left a trail, but he also knew Snyder wouldn’t read from a screen. After a minute, he handed across ten or so pages, warm from the printer. A further fifteen or so were following.

  Snyder started reading. “I like this. Mind you, the target is prime. Well-guarded. It will be a challenge.”

  “That’s why they’re offering that fee.” Hill was relaxed. Difficult and high fees went together.

  Snyder whistled. “T’fucker is wealthy. We’ll have to be careful with this one.”

  Hill handed over more pages after skimming them quickly. “He’ll be in DC. We won’t have to travel far.”

  Snyder passed his copy on to Reeves. “Here, Gabe. Look for how we can off t’fucker.”

  Reeves joined the reading fest. They were all silent as pages came off the printer, were distributed, read and redistributed. Thirty minutes later Snyder handed the last page to Reeves.

  “For chrissake, Vince, get us something easy, next time, will ya?” Reeves muttered.

  Roy said, “He’s going to be exposed in DC.”

  “Perhaps. He has a good security firm working for him. Also, he has a dozen or so bots, top of the line,” Hill said.

  Snyder spat into the empty pizza box. “Those fucks are tin cans. We should give up if we can’t beat them.”

  “I’ve heard—” began Reeves. He had a frown on his face. He was the team worrier.

  “Gabe, don’t worry. We’ll find a way to stand off an’ use the new rifles.”

  “I’ll hafta true ‘em in first. Take a day or two. Then I’ll hafta check the scopes. Another two days.”

  “Fuck, he won’t be in DC for another week or so,” Roy said.

  “Alright. A tonna time, I s’pose.”

  There was silence for another ten minutes as Snyder and Hill each selected and reread pages, sometimes with repeats. Hill busied himself at a whiteboard and jotted down notes and cryptic questions. Roy watched, nodding occasionally as Hill erased text and replaced it, sometimes repeating his edit. Reeves chewed a toothpick, and ignored the efforts of his two companions. He’
d listen when they thought they had an idea. He started to work on the second sniper rifle.

  Hill stood back from his whiteboard. He said, “He’s expected to stay in his house while he’s in DC. There’ll be opportunity when he heads to Congress. Maybe a second one when he goes back home. There’s a possibility he’ll be required for a second day.”

  Reeves chewed his toothpick.

  “I suppose we could try to pick him off on his way to Congress, the first time,” Snyder suggested.

  “We’d hafta know which way he’d travel.” Reeves shifted the toothpick as he spoke.

  “There’s a primary route—Massachusetts Avenue. We could create a diversion or two to keep their focus on the primary.”

  “We’d hafta find a building we could use,” cautioned Reeves.

  “The city’s in a construction boom. I can go tomorrow and search out possibilities.”

  “Yeah. No. Maybe. Go tonight. Spend tomorrow checking. Get back here tomorrow night. We don’t have fucking time to waste.” Snyder tidied up the debris from the pizza and carried it to the bin as he spoke.

  “Done. I’ll book the flight now. Gabe, do you want to come?”

  “Nah. I’ll finish prepping these and head to the range to fire them in.” He indicated the sniper rifles. “Just make sure you find a good spot, yeah.”

  Hill returned the following evening with a variety of videos and stills. He’d wandered around parts of Massachusetts Avenue with his cell phone, posing as a totally star-struck tourist. He had dressed casually, and had no trouble melding into the crowds. He could be unassuming and almost invisible when the need arose.

  “Look,” he said, after he uploaded his files to his laptop. He clicked on a video. “This building is perfectly located. It’s new, currently unoccupied, and easily entered. Ten floors. We can get to the roof. I know, because I did. It doesn’t have cameras. I think the initial tenants have bailed on their contract, and the owners are looking for a replacement. It overlooks the avenue in the direction from which we’d expect our target to come.”