by Camden Mays
“No, Jess, wait.” Hannah was now pacing the floor in the hotel room. “I’m working in Seattle for a couple of weeks. But I have the weekend off, so why don’t I fly down on Saturday? I don’t want you going there without me.”
“You’ll come out here? Really?”
“Sure. This could be serious stuff, so we need to be careful how we handle it.”
“I understand.”
“Who else have you told about it?”
“No one. I just told Brittany I needed that key.”
“Your mom doesn’t know?”
“She doesn’t get it.”
“Wait, did you tell her about the attack today?”
“No. She’d just freak out.”
“Jess you’ve got to tell her. Look, I’ll let you know when I get my flight booked.”
“I can pick you up at the airport.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“OK. I’ll text you my flight information and see you on Saturday.”
“Thanks, Hannah.”
Chapter 23
Seattle, Washington – Hilton Hotel
Hannah stepped out of the hotel elevator onto the large tiled floor in front of the lobby. The junior agent had texted her saying he was in the lounge area across from the hotel restaurant. The hotel had recently been updated with a contemporary look and modern furnishings. Hannah waved and grabbed a cup of coffee before joining her colleague on the sofa as they waited for the informant.
“So, who is this guy and what’s his complaint?” Hannah asked the agent to get a read on the situation.
“His name is Ty Reichert. He works, or I should say, he worked for Hazlet Securities. They’ve gotten a lot of hype lately for their swift response to those cyberattacks.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about the company. They were also strapped with investigations into potential ties to Iran and China. Is that what this is related to? If so, I think we should just hand it over to the investigating team that was working on it.”
“Not really sure on that. This seems different. Reichert wouldn’t go into it over the phone. He seemed really paranoid, but it seemed like he had some kind of physical evidence. Said when he presented it to the CIO he was terminated.”
“Huh. He’s got your cell, right?”
“Yep. He should be here in five or ten minutes depending on traffic.”
✽✽✽
Seattle, Washington – Gas Works Park
Ty Reichert was ready to go out the door when he received a text message from the FBI agent stating to meet him at the Gas Works Park on North Lake Union just a few blocks south of where he lived. The agent indicated they would be waiting for him at one of the picnic tables near the restroom. He grabbed his backpack and drove to the park.
The twenty-acre historic landmark highlighted Seattle’s early history, its distinct gothic towers serving as a reminder of the Industrial Revolution era. It was the site of the former Seattle Gas Light Company gasification plant that operated from 1906 to 1956. It was opened to the public in 1975, and the old pump house was now a play barn and the boiler house a picnic shelter. That was where Ty was headed.
Yesterday’s drizzle was gone, and the sun heated up the bright morning. As he approached the hilly park, he saw the recognizable towers in the forefront with the city skyline in the backdrop. A young mother walked her daughter around the large sundial at the top of a mound in the park as joggers and walkers passed on the asphalt trails. It was a gorgeous day, and Ty felt a sense of relief to finally be meeting with someone who could do something about the corruption at Haslet Securities.
He saw two men in suits at a picnic table and knew that had to be the Feds. They waved him over, and he joined them at the table, shaking hands as they introduced themselves. It was odd, he thought, the bald one who introduced himself as the agent he had spoken to over the phone had more of a croaky voice than he remembered.
As the men questioned Ty on his findings, he fidgeted on the bench seat. His eyes darted back and forth between the men.
“Just a couple of more questions, Ty, and then we’ll need to take the USB drive and have our tech team analyze it.” The bald man gave an unwarranted smile as the other one scratched his nose.
Ty nodded but became concerned with the body language he was reading. The second man added to his anxiety as he continued to look around.
✽✽✽
Seattle, Washington – Hilton Hotel
“So where is this guy?” Hannah said, growing annoyed.
“I tried texting. Let me try calling,” the other agent said.
“Usually someone in his position is punctual and not fifteen minutes late with no contact.” Hannah stood up from the sofa in the hotel lounge area.
“That’s weird.” The agent showed Hannah his phone. “It went straight to voice mail and then cut off. Like my caller ID was blocked or something.”
“Give me his number.” Hannah punched in the digits. She got Reichert’s voice mail and left him a message, then proceeded to text him. Mr. Reichert, this is Special Agent Hannah Jacobs. We are waiting for you at the Hilton Hotel as planned. Please advise.
“Maybe he stood us up,” the other agent offered.
“I don’t like getting stood up!” Hannah put her hands on her hips as they waited for a reply.
✽✽✽
Seattle, Washington – Gas Works Park
Ty’s cell phone lay face up on the picnic table as it buzzed, but he let go to voice mail. He glanced to see the pop-up on the screen indicated a new voice mail as he continued answering questions. The questions themselves were becoming increasingly suspicious, centered around who else knew and what other physical evidence he might have rather than exploring the nature of the corrupted files.
“Are we keeping you from something, Ty?” the smartass Nose Scratcher said with a sniffle.
“No, sir.” Ty’s palms were clammy.
“OK, I think we’re about done here. Give us the file. We’ll take a drive down to the division to have you meet with some other folks that understand all that techno-crap you blabbered on about.” Baldy gave another fake smile.
Hannah’s text popped up on Ty’s screen. His eyes widened, and he leaned back. Think, Ty, think. He sought to gain control of his fear.
“Yeah, no problem. Let me use the restroom first. Too much Mountain Dew!” His high-pitched laugh caused Nose Scratcher to tighten his lips.
“Sure, kid,” Baldy said as he nodded toward the restroom just a few feet to the west of the tables.
The Georgia Tech grad grabbed his phone and saw Nose Scratcher standing up.
Baldy, who was still sitting, said, “Ty, why don’t you leave us the drive. I’d hate for it to get flushed down the toilet, you know.” Another fake grin.
Ty took off in a full sprint toward Northlake Way, and once he hit the sidewalk, he turned to see the two imposters close behind. He wished to God he had done more to stay in shape. He headed up the street, forcing his legs to move faster than he ever remembered. Fear and dread rushed over him as he somehow knew that if they got him in a car, he was a dead man.
To his right, Ty spotted the Gas Works Park Marina and thought he could find a place to hide. He raced around the corner of a building through the parking lot to the water’s edge. Three separate long docks had boats tied to them. Ty desperately looked for a place to hide. Too late. Baldy and Nose Scratcher turned the corner thirty feet away, shouting for him to freeze.
Ty’s scan caught a glimpse of hope. A forty-foot motor yacht preparing to shove off near the end of the middle dock. He ran along the wooden pier. The boat began to push away. He leaped from the dock onto the swim platform at the rear of the boat, startling the pilot and his passenger on the flybridge. The middle-aged couple stood with their mouths open, gaping at their new guest and the two men approaching the edge of the dock yelling for them to return.
“Go! Go! Get out of here,” Ty yelled and waved his arms.
&nbs
p; The boat’s pilot shoved the throttle forward to speed up their departure and get them out into Lake Union.
“Thank you!” Ty gasped for air. “You saved my life.”
“Where are we taking you?” the man at the wheel said.
Ty looked on his phone’s map and was about to reply to Hannah’s text when he realized his phone was compromised. He memorized Hannah’s number and tossed his phone into the lake. The woman onboard scolded him.
Ty asked to borrow their phone, explaining that he needed to contact the FBI. The woman gave him her phone, and he dialed Hannah’s number.
✽✽✽
Seattle, Washington
The two FBI agents had started toward the division office when Hannah’s phone rang. On the other end, Ty Reichert frantically tried to explain what had happened. Hannah grabbed the arm of the other agent to stop his walk.
“Hang on,” Hannah said as she swung her bag around and pulled out a pen and her notepad.
“OK, where are they taking you now?” She scribbled the marina’s name down and shrugged to the younger agent. He didn’t recognize it but quickly started to search for it on his phone.
“Hold on!” Hannah yelled. She pulled the phone down from her ear and glanced at her companion. “They may have your phone cloned. They set him up using your number.” On her phone, she did a quick search for the marina that sat on the west side of Lake Union. She mapped it out.
“OK, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay with the couple until we arrive. What’s the name of the boat? Rhapsody. Got it. We’ll be there soon.” She ended the call.
Hannah motioned for the other agent to step inside the small market they were standing next to on University Street. The other agent stepped back as Hannah drew her weapon and told him to hand over his phone.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted. The man behind the register began screaming that he was calling the police.
Hannah flashed her badge with her free hand and said to the agent, “Give me your phone.”
He gritted his teeth and shoved it into her hand. She held it up for him.
“Punch in your passcode.” He complied.
She scrolled through his text messages, looked at the deleted messages as well, then holstered her weapon back under her suit jacket and handed his phone back to him. She apologized to the merchant and to the agent as they left the market.
“Sorry. The informant received a text from your number stating to meet him at a park. It was a setup. I just needed to make sure.”
The agent’s flushed face said it all.
“Your phone’s been compromised. You’ll need to leave it behind. If they’ve cloned it, they can track your movements. They’ll use us to get to this guy.”
Still, the agent said nothing.
“Or I can do this by myself. Your choice.” Hannah entered the FBI Division office. The agent hesitated.
“OK. I’ll go requisition a car,” Hannah said, seeing that the agent was still seething.
“My car’s in the garage. Let me get another phone first. I’ll drive,” he relented.
✽✽✽
Late that evening, the car headed east and was almost to the halfway point of the 520 Bridge, also known as the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge. Stretching over seventy-seven hundred feet, it was known as the largest floating bridge in the world. Hannah gazed out the passenger window at Lake Washington, listening to Reichert recount the details of his ordeal for the umpteenth time that day.
“So, you’re saying this software that you developed uncovered an intentional malware that is designed to allow hackers into critical infrastructure systems. And when you discussed your findings, you were terminated, threatened, then tricked into meeting with fake FBI agents and chased until you leaped aboard the SS Minnow with the Professor and Ginger,” the agent driving recapped, watching Reichert’s reaction in the rearview mirror.
“Huh? SS Minnow? What are you talking about?”
“Gilligan’s Island. You know. The old TV show?” The agent thought he would get a laugh from Hannah. Instead, she gave him a disapproving look for harassing the techie.
“Dude, these guys wanted me to get in a car with them. They hacked your phone. They hacked an FBI agent’s phone! Do you have any idea about the capabilities they have?” Reichert was getting agitated.
“Ty, calm down.” Hannah turned in her seat to face him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. The main thing is to get you someplace safe.” They had spent the day at the division processing Reichert’s story. When his story was corroborated, teams of agents at the Seattle Division were set in motion, tasked with interviewing Haslet executives, finding out who the two men were that impersonated the FBI agents, and finding Reichert’s friend Gina, who had gone missing. Hannah and her offended colleague were escorting Reichert to an FBI safe house in Kirkland.
Hannah’s phone rang. It was the SAC. She listened for a minute, then turned and looked at Reichert as if he was a ghost.
“I understand. Thank you, sir.” She put the phone down and turned back to face Reichert.
“Ty, they found Gina at her home. She’s dead. Looks like a drug overdose.”
“What? Oh my God, Gina . . .” Reichert grabbed his hair with both hands and shook his head.
“What have I done? I should never have told her about it.” He cried. “She didn’t use drugs. They killed her!”
“They also uncovered the same kind of drugs at your home as well.”
“I don’t do drugs. These assholes are setting me up!” Reichert’s face revealed his disbelief.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. For right now, we need to get somewhere safe.”
They pulled into the driveway of the safe house, compliments of the asset seizure of a white-collar criminal. They entered the house and three other male agents were waiting for them. They walked through the logistics. They would work in teams of two on twelve-hour shifts. Hannah had agreed to help out when she returned from her LA trip. She learned they would be stationing two additional agents outside in a car and that an agent from the cyber division would be in tomorrow with equipment for Reichert to demonstrate his program.
Hannah noticed the agents grumbling about pulling the babysitting job over the weekend. Reichert caught it too and apologized to them. It pissed her off that grown men were complaining about missing the state fair in Puyallup.
Chapter 24
Los Angeles International Airport
Terminal six at LAX was bustling with Saturday travelers as Hannah made her way to the curbside, looking for Jess. She spotted Jess’s blonde head in the silver VW Cabrio convertible with the top down as the car approached. She was glad she’d worn her hair pulled back.
“I love your car!” Hannah yelled as Jess pulled to a stop.
“Thanks.” Jess got out and gave Hannah a hug.
Hannah had booked a hotel near the airport to take the shuttle back in the morning. She had considered flying back that night but was unsure of what they would find at the storage facility. She tossed her bag in the trunk, seeing Jess’s workout bag and emergency kit.
“Are you still going at the training hard?” Hannah asked, strapping herself in the seat.
“Yeah, trying to stay sharp. I was glad I did. I mean, the incident I told you about on the phone could have gone down much differently.” Jess pulled into the traffic of the LAX loop and headed north on Sepulveda. Then she turned onto Lincoln toward their destination.
“Well, I’m glad you’re OK.”
“Do you like Mexican food?” Jess asked.
“Sure! Probably a little too much.”
“Well, my mom asked if the three of us could meet for dinner tonight.”
Shit. Hannah tried to hide her surprise. “Sure, that’s great.”
“I hope it’s OK. I think she wants to meet at a restaurant over in Torrance. She probably wants to just meet you since we’ve spent so much time together.”
“Uh-huh. So, do you have t
he letter with you?” Hannah changed gears.
“Oh yeah.” Jess grabbed it from the low pocket of the driver’s door and handed it to Hannah as they waited at a red light. Hannah thought about the forensics, but they were beyond that now.
“How does he send something after he’s dead?”
“He probably had an arrangement set up somehow.”
Hannah examined the letter. In it, Grant Ramsey apologized to Jess for getting her involved in the terrorists’ plots and stated that if she was receiving the letter, it was because he was dead. He left her an address and unit number, saying that there was meaningful information her dad would need and something for her as part of his penance.
They arrived at the small four-by-four indoor storage unit. Hannah hesitated to open the door, remembering the blast in Grant Ramsey’s New York City apartment. She motioned for Jess to stand back as she rolled the door up.
“Ah, I’m really disappointed,” Jess hissed. “I was excited to see a lot of stuff. You know, like that TV show where they bid on storage lockers and find antiques and things.”
Instead, there was just one banker’s box on the floor toward the rear of the unit. Hannah was still cautious and looked over the small unit before going to the box. She put latex gloves on and gave a pair to Jess.
“Just to be safe, in case we need any of it for evidence.”
She lifted the lid on the box, finding file folders and a money bag.
“Looks like files he was building on the Russian SVR unit.” There were profiles and rosters. One file caught her attention. It was labeled “CIA moles.” She pulled it out and thumbed through it, not recognizing any of the names.
She then opened the money bag. It had stacks of hundreds.
“Oh my God,” Jess said. “How much do you think is here?”
“A hundred, maybe two hundred thousand.”
“He left this for me?”
