King and Maxwell

by David Baldacci

  on dry land.”

  CHAPTER

  81

  “I’M VERY GLAD THAT YOU lived, Ms. Maxwell,” said Edgar with as much emotion as he was apt to show.

  “I am too, Edgar, thanks. And you know you can call me Michelle.”

  They were seated around the kitchen table at Edgar’s farmhouse.

  “You figured this out before anyone,” said Sean. “And we told the president that. Don’t be surprised if you get a call.”

  “I already did,” said Edgar. “He wanted me to come to the White House, but I told him I had to feed the chickens.”

  Sean blanched. “Edgar, please tell me you did not tell the president of the United States that you couldn’t come to the White House because you had chickens to feed.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “I told his chief of staff, who I presume told the president.”

  Sean wearily shook his head while Michelle bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Chickens take a lot of time to care for properly, Sean,” explained Edgar. “It was just a question of timing. I’ll get by the White House at some point.”

  Sean asked, “How did you track down what Grant had done?”

  “It was more by chance than anything intentional. But your asking me to find Grant’s car by using the GPS chip in it made me think about things from that angle. Cars these days have a great deal of computer hardware and software to make them function the way people need them to. There’re approximately one hundred megabytes of binary code in high-end models that runs over fifty computer units. But this also allows hackers numerous points of entry. Telematics, Bluetooth, keyless entry, even tire sensors that utilize wireless connections. Or you can be hacked through your CD or DVD player. But most hackers will attack a vehicle through something called the On-Board Diagnostics port. It’s an access port where repair shops hook up their diagnostic computer to a car’s computer so they can talk to each other.”

  “Sounds like a patient and his doctor,” said Sean. “Not a car.”

  “We’ve apparently come a long way since the 1966 Mustang,” added Michelle. “I drove my brother’s hand-me-down in college. It had something called an eight-track player.”

  Sean stared at her. “These are the moments where I realize how much older I am than you.”

  She smiled sweetly. “You’re not in bad shape for a man of your advanced years.”

  Sean turned to Edgar. “The FBI’s having their guys tear the Beast apart to see where the attack came from,” said Sean.

  “It started with a commercial satellite that had once been leased to the government,” said Edgar. “They’re supposed to be scrubbed of any sensitive material once they’re no longer used by the government, but Grant apparently found some remnants. He used those remnants as a way to infiltrate the satellite that is devoted to the GPS navigation and control functions of the presidential limo. I’m betting that the FBI technicians will find malware placed on there that allowed Grant to remotely control all functions of the car.”

  “I bet they will too,” said Michelle. “The car just started driving itself. The agent at the wheel could do nothing about it. It just happened. It changed course, accelerated, and into the water we went. And then the oxygen system didn’t work.”

  “The malware I’m sure had a part in that,” noted Edgar.

  Michelle said, “If they could hack the Beast, no car is safe.”

  “Absolutely true,” said Edgar matter-of-factly. “It really does show the good and bad of technology. We rely on it at our peril.”

  “We still haven’t determined who the leak was,” said Michelle. “Grant knew about Wingo’s classified mission in the Middle East. He had to get that from somewhere.”

  “What about the president’s itinerary?” asked Edgar. “Grant knew precisely when he was going over the bridge.”

  “It was public knowledge that the president was attending the event in Virginia that evening,” said Sean. “But he couldn’t have known when the motorcade was leaving the city. Although he could have had eyes on it.”

  Michelle said, “But unless he had inside information he probably wouldn’t have known until that day about the event. It’s not like the schedule is heavily publicized. Or the route the motorcade would take. And he might have wanted several options to nail Cole and picked the best one.”

  “Well, he might have gotten the president’s schedule from someone. But that someone probably would be different from the person who knew about the mission in Afghanistan.”

  “My money is still on it being Dan Marshall,” said Michelle. “He’s Grant’s father-in-law. I’m not saying he knowingly did it. Grant had some access and he might have exploited that access. And if he’s good enough to hack the presidential satellite, then maybe he hacked Marshall’s computer at the Pentagon.”

  “If he did they would know,” opined Edgar. “The Pentagon does get hacked, but they quickly realize if they have been.”

  Michelle looked doubtful but said, “Okay, if that’s the case what do we do now? Who’s our focus? Do we go to Trevor Jenkins’s place and poke around?”

  Sean said, “The FBI has been all over it. And I highly doubt he’s going to come back there to pick up some clean clothes. He’s probably in Venezuela by now on his way to disappearing permanently. His share of a billion euros buys that kind of vanishing act.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” said Michelle. “Unless you have a better idea.”

  “I knew you were going to say that,” he replied.

  She rose and pulled out her keys. “So let’s go fishing.”

  CHAPTER

  82

  THEY DROVE TOWARD JENKINS’S HOUSE. It was dark now and the wind was picking up. The skies promised more rain and soon. Michelle shivered a bit and glanced over at Sean.

  “I never thanked you properly,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked curiously.

  She looked incredulous. “Oh, I don’t know. Saving my life?”

  “You saved your own life, Michelle. I just suggested how you might want to go about it.”

  “You’re a hard man to compliment.”

  “At least you weren’t stabbed this time. It was just the threat of drowning.”

  “Are you going to go all grim on me again?”

  He sighed and tried but failed to force a smile.

  “Sean, we’ve had this discussion before.”

  “And never had a resolution to it.”

  “There is no resolution to it if we keep doing what we’re doing. And forget your suggestion that you keep being a PI while I go bake cookies.”

  “I didn’t suggest that you bake cookies.”

  “Good, because I suck at baking. You’re the cook, not me.”

  He was about to respond to this when he glanced out the window and it finally hit him.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  “What is it?” asked Michelle.

  “You remember when we staked out South’s place before and I said it felt funny when we were driving through some of the neighborhoods?”

  “Yeah, like you’d been here before but couldn’t remember when or why.”

  “Well, I think I just remembered both. Only I really hope I’m wrong.”

  “Is this about Grant?”

  “No, this is about the leak.”

  He pulled out his phone and punched in a number. “Edgar, it’s Sean. You think you have one more hack left in you tonight?” He added, “The Pentagon. Here’s what I need.”

  It took two hours but Edgar came through and gave Sean the answers to his questions. He’d also managed to discover some additional information on the person in question. “People need to hide their tracks better online,” said Edgar. “Two proxy servers, three ghost IP addresses, a manufactured digital confluence in Hong Kong, and a byte dispersal program randomly free-riding on excess data streams with reassembly on a platform in Dubai just doesn’t cut i
t anymore.”

  Sean rubbed his temple. “Okay, Edgar, I have no idea what the hell you just said, but can they track it back to you?”

  “I’m cool,” said Edgar. “National security—”

  “Trumps all,” finished Sean.

  He put away the phone and looked at Michelle.

  She said, “From your scowl I deduce your wish did not happen. You were really right, not really wrong.”

  “I’ll give you directions to where we’re going.”

  “Sean?” she said quizzically.

  Sean looked grim. “Not now, Michelle. Not now.”

  They walked up to the door of the substantial house set on a corner lot. Sean rang the bell. They heard footsteps approaching. A few moments later Curtis Brown, Dana’s two-star husband, opened the door. He looked surprised to see them.

  “Jesus, I thought you guys would be making the major news show circuit by now. National heroes. Pretty damn impressive.”

  “Can we come in, Curtis?” asked Sean somberly.

  Brown took a step back. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I know it’s late, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions. About Dana.”

  “Okay. She’s doing much better. Docs think she can be discharged in a week or so to rehab.”

  “That’s great news.”

  He closed the door behind them and led them into the living room.

  Sean looked around at the comfortable furnishings. Everything had been done in fine taste.

  “Do I detect Dana’s work here?” he asked.

  “Yes. I can lead soldiers into battle. I cannot decorate a room or match colors to save my soul.”

  Curtis sat and motioned for them to do so. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “You didn’t tell us you were retiring from the Army,” began Sean.

  Brown looked surprised. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Yes. Two stars are enough for me. I’d have to keep making the circuit if I wanted to keep moving up and getting one or two more. And I’m tired of the game.”

  “And you’re moving to Malaysia?”

  Now Brown stood and glared at Sean. “You’ve been spying on me. Hacking my personal records.”

  “Not me, no, I wouldn’t know how. But a friend of mine is really good at it. Only Malaysia isn’t your final stop. You’re only there for a few weeks. You bought property, through a shell company, on an island in Indonesia. A lot of property, all oceanfront. Way more than a two-star should be able to afford even though you do have a trust fund.”

  “And interestingly enough Indonesia has no extradition with the U.S.,” added Michelle.

  Brown sat back down and said nothing.

  Sean rose and looked around the room. “When we were staking out Leon South’s home we passed through this neighborhood. I recognized it, though I didn’t know from where. But I had driven by it once years ago.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d heard Dana had remarried. Did some checking, got the address. Just wanted to see if she was okay.”

  Sean stopped and looked down, a hint of incredulity at his own words on his face. Michelle was watching him closely.

  She said, “Are you all right?”

  He straightened. “I’m fine. Anyway, drove by here. Nice neighborhood, beautiful house. You had a good, solid rep. Seemed like she had married very well.”

  “And so had I.”

  Sean turned to face him. “Then why the one-way plane tickets, Curtis? And why are you the only one booked to go? Where’s Dana’s ticket? You leave in two days. According to what you just said she won’t even be out of the hospital by then, much less rehab.”

  Brown kept silent.

  “We saw Jenkins pass by South’s home that night, only he didn’t stop there. That’s because Jenkins was coming from your house, Curtis. He’d already met with you. You were Grant’s leak at the Pentagon, not Dan Marshall. You told us you’d sat in on some meetings with Marshall. You neglected to tell us that you were also privy to the mission Sam Wingo was undertaking. And I’m not just talking scuttlebutt that Dana weaseled out of you.”

  “And the price Grant paid for that is buying you a new life on your island in Indonesia. A life for one,” Michelle added.

  “Funded by fifty million bucks placed in an offshore account after Sam Wingo was ambushed. The transfer was done through a shell that we also traced back to you. That was part of the billion euros, right? Any idea where the rest of it might be?”

  Brown just stared at them.

  Sean drew closer to him. “When Dana started poking around for me, did you think you’d just had the worst luck in the world? Your wife’s ex had come around asking questions about the very scheme in which you were neck-deep. That must have freaked you out. Did you arrange the hit at the mall? Take out all three of us at the same time? Later, did you sit by her bedside at the hospital praying she wouldn’t make it?”

  Brown said dully, “I love Dana. I’m going overseas to get things set up. Then I’m coming back for her. I did not arrange for anyone to shoot her. When you told me that she’d been followed to the mall—” He broke off here, and the tears spilled down his face.

  “Your partner double-crossing you?” asked Michelle.

  Sean added, “When he found out you’d talked to Dana about Wingo’s situation, he must’ve been really upset.”

  “I didn’t know she was doing it for you,” said Brown. “I didn’t even know you two had met until—”

  “Until your partner told you. And he sent the kill squad to the mall.”

  Sean said, “Did Jenkins come to read you the riot act that night, General? Or did he just want to make sure you were pretending to work with us to throw off suspicion?”

  “I… I don’t…”

  “Did you know what Grant was going to do with the information you gave him?” asked Michelle. “Kill the president? That’s treason. That’s the death penalty.”

  Brown started and seemed to realize what he had been saying. He said firmly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now I’d like you two to leave.”

  He stood.

  “You’re not going to make the flight to Malaysia,” warned Sean as he faced Brown.

  “Why not? You have no proof of anything. So I bought some property, so what? The fifty mill in the offshore account? Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I just made good investments and got a really good deal on some land.”

  “You punched me for putting Dana in danger,” said Sean.

  “So what?”

  Sean swung his fist and knocked Brown over a chair.

  “I just returned the favor,” he said, rubbing his hand.

  Brown jumped up. Sean braced for his attack when a voice froze all three of them.

  “Enough!”

  They turned to see Alan Grant standing by the doorway.

  In his hand was a small box with a button on it. His finger was pressed on the button. With his free hand he swept open the front of his coat. Three C-4 packs were strapped to his torso.