by Tim Tigner
Achilles reached out and put a hand on Niccolo’s shoulder. “What do you say we agree on three million total in fees? You keep whatever the banks don’t take.”
Niccolo kept a straight face. “Three million for three days. I can live with that.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Let me buy you lunch, the best ragù Napoletano you ever tasted. Then I’ll fire up the espresso machine, and we’ll get to work.”
Achilles double-squeezed Niccolo’s shoulder, then removed his hand. “Once all this is done, I’ll gladly take you up on your kind offer, my friend. Today, however, I have to hit the road. My plate is as full as your ashtray. Speaking of which, remember to leave ten million in the Bank of Austria account. I need operating funds.”
Niccolo bowed agreement. “Sounds like a fun operation.”
Achilles paused at the door as Niccolo’s final comment sank in. “Actually, I’ve been looking forward to this operation for a long time.”
Niccolo grew a knowing look. As a man who moved billions, he saw a lot of dreams realized. “Ciao, my friend. Godspeed.”
Achilles hopped back into the A8 and rocketed off toward Austria. He was looking forward to an even more exciting appointment.
While he’d been in with Niccolo, Max had been chartering a Gulfstream jet and an Ansat helicopter. In an hour, the two spies were due to rendezvous in the west Austrian city of Bregenz, where alumni from Glock and Steyr had combined brainpans to form the specialty weapons company, SPOX.
As he sped through the beautiful mountains overlooking Lake Constance, Achilles reflected on his evolving relationship with his Russian partner. Common goals had pressed them into an alliance defined by rivalry and fraught with suspicion. Then circumstances had forced them through a few flaming hoops, side-by-side. Now, as they approached the ultimate undercover operation, Achilles realized the tie that bound them felt more like a bond than a chain.
Max was already waiting when Achilles pulled into the wooded parking lot. “Doesn’t look like much,” Max said by way of greeting. Indeed, there was nothing notable about the exterior of the single-story structure, aside from its picturesque location between Lake Constance and Mount Pfänder. “What’s SPOX stand for?”
“Technically, it stands for Special Operations Experts, but really it’s a nod to their flagship product.”
“And what’s that?”
Achilles opened the lobby door. “Something that will remind you of Star Trek.”
Chapter 95
The FP1
Bregenz, Austria
THIRTY MINUTES and 20,000 euros after opening SPOX’s door, Achilles and Max were both standing bare-chested before bathroom sinks, shaving their armpits. It was a necessary part of the weapon customization process, according to Hans and Gunter, the technicians assigned to them.
Achilles looked over at his exposed partner, and thought about how far they’d come. Then he thought about how far they still had to go. As their axillary hair dropped into the sink in what looked more like prep for the ballet than battle, he decided to take a load off Max’s mind. “Zoya never slept with me. She prevaricated with everything she had.”
Max met his eye in the mirror, but didn’t speak.
“Just thought you should know.”
The door opened and Hans’ big blonde head appeared. “We’re ready when you are.”
Max gave Achilles an after-you gesture, and they followed the Austrian technician into a room that looked like a cross between a surgical suite and a barber shop.
Hans swept a big hairy arm toward a couple of inversion tables. “Please.”
Once they were strapped in and dangling with their heads below their feet, Hans and Gunter went to work securing plastic baggies to their smooth armpits. Hans talked them through it as he worked. “These are the power packs for the FP1.” He held up four objects the size of squashed ping-pong balls, then dropped one into each of their bags while Gunter mixed something with a spatula. “They are specifically engineered to deliver a nanosecond electrical pulse.”
Gunter moved in and began pouring a thick flesh-toned liquid around the power packs, while Hans set an egg timer and continued his explanation. “The molding material is the same stuff dentists use to make impressions. It will help the power packs stay snugly in place while secreted beneath your arms.”
Achilles found it a very peculiar feeling, having his armpits and only his armpits filled with warm liquid.
Once Gunter finished, Hans said, “Now clench down around the power packs, so your elbows are by your sides and your hands cross your chest, like this.” He demonstrated.
“What’s a nanosecond electrical pulse?” Max asked.
Gunter opened his mouth for the first time since his introduction. He was as tall as Hans, but only about half his weight. He wore a trimmed mustache and beard that gave his gaunt face an elfin appearance. “I’m sure you’re familiar with stun guns. Nanosecond electrical pulse devices are a similar, but next-generation technology. And they’re military grade. Less than a second of contact will knock out an average soldier for three minutes.”
Max looked over at Achilles, his expression a mixture of surprise and skepticism. “Why haven’t I heard of them?”
Gunter ran his fingers over his hairy chin. “The technology is still theoretical, according to the experts. Research has been going on for years all over the world, but without success — so far as anybody knows. We happened to find the right pulse parameters, but we’re keeping that information confidential until we’re ready to commercialize.”
“Is the technology lethal?” Achilles asked.
Gunter nodded. “Potentially. Although even traditional stun guns kill people under the right circumstances.”
“Under what circumstances is the FP1 lethal?” Achilles asked.
“We don’t know. Our data is limited, but we expect casualty rates as high as 0.2 percent from these early models. That’s something you’ll want to keep in mind. They’re definitely military grade and by military, we’re not talking UN peace keepers.”
After two minutes of set time, the timer rang. Gunter extracted the baggies while Hans returned Achilles and Max to seated positions. The molds looked like childhood Play-Doh creations.
Hans and Gunter peeled off the plastic and trimmed the excess material from the edges, careful to avoid clipping the long wires protruding from the apex. Once satisfied with their craftsmanship, each handed one over, wearing proud expressions. “The little knob beside the micro-USB charging port is the on-off switch. Of course, the long wires deliver the charge. We’ll customize their length next.”
The technicians went to work gluing the power packs into place and cementing the flesh-toned wires along the undersides of their arms. “You’re sure these won’t set off a metal detector or register on a wand?” Achilles asked.
Gunter smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely. The FP1 was designed with that in mind. The wires are low mass, well-insulated, and nonferrous. The power pack is also nonmetallic as far as metal detectors are concerned.”
“Really? What is it?”
Hans raised a fat finger. “That’s proprietary. But I assure you, it won’t be detected.”
Achilles pictured Korovin’s bodyguards. “Does it have enough juice to work against a big guy?
Hans got a twinkle in his eye, and his basso voice became unexpectedly jovial. “We tested it on cattle. Went to a slaughter house and stood by the conveyor belt. We used our fingers to subdue the cows, rather than the stunning device the workers usually employ. It dropped the poor beasts like a bullet to the brain. Kept them down for over a minute. Coolest thing you ever saw.” Hans crossed his big arms on his chest while nodding to himself. “Makes you feel a bit godlike, to be honest.”
Achilles was satisfied. Korovin’s guards were big, but they didn’t weigh a thousand pounds. “What’s FP1 stand for?”
“Finger Phaser One. Hey, speaking of batteries,” Hans added, changing the subject. “Did you know that tradi
tional stun guns are powered by a single 9-volt battery?”
Max jumped on the question. “Yeah, those are good for two to five minutes of discharge, in my experience. What will we get from these?”
“About one minute. But that’s a hundred knockouts, if you don’t dawdle.”
“No dawdling,” Achilles repeated. “Got it. What if we want to knock someone out for longer than three minutes? Will multiple zaps add up?”
“More or less. But don’t forget the lethality factor. Best to think of nanosecond electrical pulses like a drug, with overdose potential.”
After giving them a second to digest the implications, Hans continued. “You have a decision to make regarding the placement of the electrodes. The most convenient for application purposes is at the tips of your index and middle fingers. But then you have wires running across the palms of your hands. That’s both more visible and easier to accidentally knock loose. It’s also very dangerous. Easy to accidentally self-inflict by making a fist or grabbing a conductive surface. The alternative site is here.” He pointed to the pinky side of his hand, just above his wrist. The karate-chop surface. “Lower risk of detection. Less likely to dislodge. But a bit less convenient for zapping.”
“What do you recommend?” Max asked.
“Do you expect to use it in a combat situation or by stealth?”
“Could be either.”
“You really don’t want them uncovered on your fingertips during a fight.”
Achilles frowned. “We really need stealth.”
“Are you right-handed?”
“Yes,” both spies replied.
“Then I’d go with the finger electrodes on your left hand, and the palm configuration on your right. I’ll show you best-practice knockout moves for both applications.”
He paused to get their nods of approval. “But I need to warn you, in the strongest possible terms. If you aren’t vigilant with the insulating covers or precise with your assault technique, you’ll find yourselves unconscious at the worst possible moment.”
“That’s a hell of a backfire,” Max said.
Achilles concurred. A lethal backfire. The FP1 would never make it to market. Bad for Hans and Gunter. Good for him and Max. Korovin would never see it coming.
Chapter 96
Complete Control
Seattle, Washington
WANG’S BIG DAY had finally arrived and by some miracle so had the diverted shipment of fifty autopilot units. Having carefully unpacked the systems to facilitate a seamless resealing, his ten technicians were now busy soldering the auxiliary circuit boards into place.
Both sets.
While his Russian minders looked on — oblivious to the double cross taking place under their cute little noses.
Max might have noticed that Wang’s men were adding two boards to each system rather than one, but not these two. Whoever pulled Max out in favor of a couple of women had made a $20 million mistake.
Twenty million, he repeated to himself. Nothing wrong with that.
Despite his wife’s daily pleas to go for the gold, Wang had resisted the urge to get greedy. Qi had a point. He might get a billion dollars if he asked for it. But his experience indicated that a torture session followed by a bullet between the eyes was far more likely. Why risk it? Twenty million would give them everything he needed — without the headache.
Later tonight, once the systems were safely inside Boeing’s gates, he’d place a phone call and demand payment for the activation code that would switch off the second circuit board. Then he’d disappear onto the Winsome Whisper and wait for his bank to provide confirmation that he’d never suffer through another rainy day.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the fair-haired Russian looking back. Near as he could figure, this was the only time a woman that beautiful had ever stared at him.
She met his gaze with surprising confidence and reflected that sentiment in her tone. “We’re running out of time.”
This one was proving to be far more analytical than her appearance suggested. Still, analytical wasn’t the same as technical. Wang remained confident that he could manage her. He echoed her confident demeanor. “We’ve still got two hours.”
“That’s my point. With twenty-five percent of the time remaining, we’ve still got forty percent of the workload.”
It was true, his ten technicians had only modified thirty units. The addition of the override circuit was not factored into the timeline. “They’re picking up speed. It may come down to the wire, but we’ll make it. Meanwhile, may I suggest you back away from the tables? That may help them focus.”
Rather than backing up, she looked over to her colleague. The dark-haired one with soulful eyes was seated on the floor, focused on her laptop rather than his ten men. As he watched, she too stood up and came his way.
“We were expecting a single soldering operation. But they’re adding two components.”
“Is that a question?”
“Why the variance?” the fair-haired one asked, ganging up on him.
Wang pushed back. “I didn’t set your expectations. So I can’t speak to variances.”
“Only the larger of the circuit boards is in the drawing package.” Dark hair pointed to her computer screen.
Wang didn’t give an inch. “Don’t blame me if you don’t have the complete package. The big one is the override unit. The smaller attachment enables communications. Together, they form a single system.”
Wang actually had no idea how the system worked, but that seemed logical to him. The way he figured it, autopilot systems normally handed off control to a computer, which then interfaced with all the other systems on the aircraft to safely and efficiently follow the flight plan. With Sunset in place, the autopilot system would irrevocably pass that control to a remote operator instead, essentially turning the aircraft into a drone.
The women stared at him.
He stared back with confidence. As his father liked to say, the rice was already cooked. They only had two choices: proceed with the operation or cancel it. No way they would call it quits based solely on suspicion.
Wang had them in a corner. He knew it, and their eyes told him they knew it too.
Chapter 97
Bit Of Coin
Seattle, Washington
ZOYA HAD ANTICIPATED feeling a sense of relief once her mission was complete, but her shoulders remained tied in knots, and her appetite hadn’t returned. Sure, Max and Achilles were still in the thick of it, but that didn’t account for her nervous tension. The guys were pros, and Max always came through. She and Katya had been the wildcards. But they’d done their part and done it well.
The problem, she realized, was what they’d done — and what it could lead to. “I don’t know how the guys do it.”
Katya was clearly having similar thoughts, but held up her chopsticks in apology until she swallowed her sushi. “Men are better at compartmentalizing their emotions. And at breaking things down into binary constituencies. Us or them. Live or die.” She gestured back and forth with her chopsticks like a metronome. “Women tend to feel situations from all angles, along with the connections in between.”
Zoya agreed. “I can’t ignore the angle that we just gave Korovin the power to kill tens of thousands of civilians.”
“He already has a nuclear arsenal. This doesn’t change anything.” Katya’s expression indicated she realized her mistake even as she spoke the words.
Zoya called her on it. “Of course it does. Sunset won’t be traceable to him. We gave him the power to get away with mass murder.”
Katya nodded. “You’re right. But he won’t. Achilles and Max will see to that. Even if they aren’t successful on their current mission, all they have to do is alert Boeing.”
“Unless they’re too late.”
Katya started to reply but coughed instead. “Excuse me, the wasabi has quite a kick.” She fanned her mouth. “They won’t be too late. I know next to nothing about aircraft manufacturing,
but even if installing autopilot systems is the last step in the process, it will still take time for the airline to put them into service. I’m sure there’s paperwork involved.”
“I was reading up on that. Boeing is delivering fifty 737s a month. And they use just-in-time manufacturing, so they’re not holding inventory. It could be very quick.”
Katya’s phone started vibrating. “It’s a Seattle prefix, but I don’t recognize the number.” She looked around. They were in a corner booth, with nobody else close by. “I’ll put it on speaker.”
Zoya appreciated the gesture.
Katya accepted the call, but didn’t speak.
“Hello?” It was Wang’s sing-song voice.
“Yes,” Katya said.
“It’s me. I have some information. It’s very confidential. Can we talk?”
“Hold on,” Katya said. She plugged in her earbuds, and gave Zoya one. “Go ahead.”
“Our shipment has been delivered. Boeing just logged it in.”
“You followed the truck?”
“Obviously.”
“Why? We paid you the moment the truck was loaded.”
“Yes, well, that was just a down payment. I’m going to require twenty more. Million that is. Paid in Bitcoin.”
After the women paused to look at each other, Katya said, “Or?”
“Or the units will be useless. You were right earlier to suspect me. That second component wasn’t part of the original package. It was my own add-on.”
Zoya reached over and disconnected the call.
“What did you do that for?”
“He’s screwing us. I don’t want him to enjoy it too much.”
Katya’s wide eyes turned jolly as Wang called right back. “What does it do?” she asked without preamble.
Wang took a second to compose himself. “Think of it as a drawbridge. Without the activation code that lowers the bridge, your circuit board won’t link up with the autopilot system.”
