Alex chuckled. “She’s writing me back. Okay, she’s agreed to privately post it for me. All she needs is the file.”
In less than a minute after forwarding over the email to her friend, Alex received a link. She texted back a quick thank you and then pasted the link into the dialogue box with the Undertaker757 followed by a short note.
Believe me now?
The thought bubble reappeared along with a note a few seconds later.
Nice work. Let’s talk.
Alex invited Undertaker757 to chat in the most secure way possible—an online game. Several lawsuits had been filed by the government in an attempt to gain access to servers from gaming sites to track the conversations of alleged terrorists. Publicly, the ongoing battle in the court system appeared to be tilting in favor of the game makers. However, privately, they gave the NSA and other government surveillance companies unfettered access to search for and track suspicious dialogue in the games. Despite many critics accusing the companies of saving those conversations, the developer insisted that the chats were never meant to be saved and vanished once each game ended. But that was a lie, designed to appease everyone concerned about privacy issues. The NSA shielded the developers from any potential lawsuits because they needed a way to track terrorist communiqués—and it often worked beautifully as most users operated under the assumption that everything they wrote online remained private.
Once she asked him to play the game Fortnite and got his handle—BigKillah29—he agreed, and they began their private conversation.
“Give Mallory all these details,” Alex said.
Hawk hustled across the room to his desk and passed the information along to Mallory. She told him that she would call him back once she was able to identify his location.
“Just tell Alex to keep him talking as much as possible to give me time to track him down,” Mallory said.
Hawk relayed Mallory’s message to Alex and watched her work her magic. In less than a minute, she engaged Undertaker757 in a conversation about the direction of our country and the leadership void among bureaucrats.
“He’s eating this up,” Alex said.
“Yeah,” Hawk said, reading the conversation over her shoulder. “It’s like he’s intimately acquainted with these people.”
“You don’t think—nah,” Alex said, answering her own question before fully asking it.
“What?” Hawk asked.
“I don’t know. I just had a thought, but it’s ridiculous.”
“No thought it ridiculous when it comes to espionage. Oftentimes, that’s why crazy ideas work—nobody would ever believe someone would try it. You know, like utilizing a video game to communicate between terrorist cells.”
She sighed. “Well, okay, here it goes. I wonder if this is some kind of inside job.”
“Inside in what way?”
“That site in North Korea is a virtual ghost as far as the internet is concerned,” Alex said. “They don’t even communicate on the dark web.”
“So, how did these people get hired?”
“They don’t,” Alex said as she continued exchanging political banter in the chat session. “I did some online forensics and didn’t see a peep or whisper about an outfit like that in North Korea anywhere. I think that was a government operation and someone decided to moonlight their services after a special request came through.”
“You think that would be Choe?”
“Yeah, it makes sense. He freaked out when a breach happened because if anyone found out you were there, they’d all be dead somewhere. He complied because he didn’t want to get caught. It’s the only thing that makes sense about that whole operation.”
“What doesn’t make sense is how someone knew about what you were doing and then brazenly stole all your equipment.”
“I trust Lt. Col. Currant will find the culprit eventually,” Alex said.
“Unless he’s on Obsidian’s payroll as well.”
Alex shook her head. “This is a well-oiled machine. There are plenty of conspiracies taking place in order to make that group function to the level that it is. However, I can’t see it happening everywhere at the highest level. At some point, a whistle blower would come clean and Obsidian would get exposed. They have to be very particular about how they coopt people—and who they coopt—into doing their bidding.”
“But you still think Obsidian had someone working for them at the Osan Air Base?”
“I do, but I can’t see it being Currant. Just call it a gut feeling, but it doesn’t seem likely to me.”
“Obsidian at least had someone on that C-17 who tried to kill me.”
Alex smiled. “They must not know who you are yet if they sent a child to do a man’s job.”
“And it better be one hell of a man if he wants to finish the job,” Hawk said.
Alex nodded as she pounded away on her phone, responding to the latest barrage of attacks that Undertaker757 unleashed on the American political landscape. The chat continued for ten minutes before Hawk’s phone rang.
“I found him,” Mallory said. “It wasn’t easy because he had IPs pinging all across the globe, so he’s no amateur. But I finally identified his exact location based off his online session’s originating IP address.”
“You know where he is right now?” Hawk asked.
“Yeah, and you’re never gonna believe where.”
“Try me.”
“He’s at the Capitol Building in Senator Otto McWilliams’s office.”
CHAPTER 15
HAWK GRABBED HIS KEYS and hustled outside to bring his car around, while Alex continued to discuss the state of politics with Undertaker757. She eased into the car and groaned as she stared at the screen.
“What is it now?” Hawk asked, easing onto the accelerator.
“We’ve moved on to the global political climate. How fast can you get to the Capitol? Because I’ve about had it with this moron.”
“I’ll let you tell him that to his face when we get there—ten, maybe fifteen, minutes tops.”
Hawk weaved in and out of traffic in an attempt to shave a couple minutes off his ETA. But in Washington, such efforts usually resulted in dismal failure. He sat at a traffic light for two minutes, and his lane didn’t move.
“Come on,” Hawk said aloud, hitting steering wheel in frustration.
“We’d probably be better off taking the metro if I knew my connection would hold up underground,” Alex said.
He sighed. “This mission has taken quite a turn.”
“Fontenot immediately dismissed any possibility that McWilliams was involved. Obviously he doesn’t know one of his best friends as well as he says he does.”
“Are we certain McWilliams is actually the one pulling the trigger on this thing?”
Alex shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there as long as I can keep him talking online.”
“What’s he saying now?” Hawk asked as he eased onto the brake at a traffic light.
“He’s moved on to how evil the G8 is. Whoever this guy is, no current iteration of government pleases him. He won’t be satisfied unless he’s the one running the show.”
“Maybe it is McWilliams then,” Hawk said, jamming his foot onto the gas as the light turned green. “I’ve heard his name bandied about as a potential rival to President Young in the next election.”
Alex cocked her head and looked at Hawk. “But would he really be doing something like this, sitting in his office connecting with people on the dark web and griping about the state of affairs in the world? It just seems—I don’t know, nutty.”
As they pulled into an underground garage lot near the Capitol Building, Alex groaned.
“What is it now?” Hawk asked.
“No, no, no, no,” she said, tapping on her phone’s keyboard screen. “Stay with me.”
“Is he still there?”
“He said he has to go and just logged off.”
Hawk hit the brakes, and they came to a stop in o
ne of the parking spots.
“We have to move quickly,” Alex said.
They darted out of the car and broke into a dead sprint toward the famed congressional building. Weaving in and out of meandering tourists and reckless Segway drivers zipping along the sidewalk, Hawk and Alex made it to the steps and raced toward the door. They hustled through security and sprinted toward McWillians’s office, the location which Alex found on her phone while they were running.
Once they reached his offices, they rushed inside and found an elderly woman named Clara Bartenfield, according to the nameplate, positioned on the front of her desk. She was leaning back in her chair and nursing a cup of tea. Alex began peppering Clara with questions while she was still in the middle of sipping her drink.
“Is Senator McWilliams still here?” Alex asked. “Has he already gone for the day? Are there any other staffers around?”
Hawk watched Alex’s countenance transform from hope to despair in an instant.
“I’m afraid I’m the only one here at the moment,” she said.
Hawk was still trying to process the meaning of Clara’s answer as he studied her.
If she’s the only one here, could she be the one chatting on the dark web?
It was certainly a conclusion that he didn’t expect to make, but he couldn’t rule anything out given all the other oddities that had occurred since he and Alex were assigned to this mission. The idea that the mild-mannered woman in front of him was directing a takeover of the U.S. political scene with the help of North Korean hackers seemed highly unlikely—if not improbable. But he wasn’t willing to rule anyone out after all he’d just witnessed. Alex, however, wasn’t about to concede that she could’ve been the culprit.
“I mean is there anyone here right now?” Alex repeated. “A custodian, a low-level staffer, an intern—anyone?”
She shook her head resolutely. “Just me.”
“What about a few minutes ago? Was anyone else in this office within the past five minutes?” Alex asked.
“Other than Senator McWilliams?” Clara asked.
“Anyone,” Hawk said.
“Well, the senator was on a phone call for about an hour with his campaign manager back home in Florida. And then he left.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” Hawk asked.
“It’s my job to know where everyone is and what they’re doing,” Clara said. “I might look old to you, but I sure as hell can manage an office.”
“So, the senator was the only one here?” Alex pressed again.
Clara put her index finger up in the air. “No, wait a minute. There was another worker here. His name is Derek Thurston. I don’t really know him that well because he’s fairly new, and I’m not sure what it is that he does. But he comes and goes as he pleases. However, he left maybe fifteen minutes ago. He’s like a ghost most days.”
“Is there anything you know about him?” Alex asked.
“Other than the fact that he’s a jerk?” she asked.
Alex nodded.
“Not much to know, really,” Clara said. “He was a private first class in the U.S. Army but couldn’t ascend above that rank. I think he was a disappointment to his parents, especially his father who eventually rose through the army’s ranks to become a four-star general. And here’s little ole Derek, who can’t hold his temper resulting in him essentially earning an early exit from the military. Major disappointment would be more like it.”
“And you say you don’t know much about him,” Alex said.
“Well, I read his file and spoke with one of the former FBI agents who profiled him for us,” Clara said. “And honestly, yes, I don’t know much about him in comparison to everyone else. I don’t know his girlfriend’s name or his favorite baseball team or if he prefers blue pens or black pens or—”
“Where do you people park?” Hawk asked, his patience with Clara waning.
Clara pointed behind her. “There’s an official parking lot on the east side of the building.”
“Do you know what kind of car he drives?” Alex asked.
“A red Dodge Charger,” Clara answered before launching into a tedious story about the history of her first parking space at the Capitol Building.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to get going,” Hawk said. “Thank you for your time and the information.”
Hawk and Alex dashed out the door and took off running down the hallway.
“Think you can get a license plate for Derek Thurston?” Hawk asked.
“I’m already on it,” Alex said as she glanced down at her phone. Seconds later, she was speaking with Linda at the Phoenix Foundation about looking up Thurston’s registration and home address. After she hung up, they increased their pace.
“Did you bring your computer along with you?” Hawk asked.
“Always. I’ll be able to track him on traffic cams as we go.”
“We may not have to,” Hawk said as they arrived near the employee lot.
“That’s him,” Alex said, pointing at his car.
They sprinted toward him just as he got into his Charger. He casually started the car until he noticed Hawk and Alex rushing toward him. Stomping on the gas, his tires barked as he whipped out of his space and toward the exit. Hawk and Alex backed away.
“Glad I got his plates,” Alex said.
“Let’s hustle,” Hawk said.
The garage they had parked in was just across the street. Sprinting to Hawk’s car, they jumped inside and took off.
Hawk began his pursuit by choosing a direct route to Thurston’s apartment while Alex searched for him on her computer using closed circuit feeds.
“Got him,” she announced after a couple minutes. “And we need to go west. Looks like he’s headed somewhere in Virginia.”
Hawk followed Alex’s directions as they tried to track Thurston through stop-and-go rush hour traffic. After an hour of following his path, they rolled up behind him. Hawk flashed his lights in an effort to get Thurston to stop.
“You think he’s going to just pull over?” Alex asked as she put away her computer.
“It was worth a shot.”
“He’s not going to do us any favors.”
The traffic light in front of them turned red and both cars, which were at the front of the line, slowed down. However, just as the vehicles in the cross lanes started to move, Thurston accelerated forward. He weaved around a truck and a van before navigating through the intersection without causing an accident.
Hawk cursed as he slammed his fist on the steering wheel.
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “Don’t get too upset just yet. We can still catch him.”
“How?”
“There’s not much on this road except for a rock quarry up ahead on the right and a few hobby farms.”
The light turned green, and Hawk tore off after Thurston.
“Right there,” Alex said, tapping at her window. “You can still see the dust. He turned into the quarry.”
Hawk jerked the car to the right and drove into the quarry, which appeared to be devoid of any employees.
“This ought to be fun,” Hawk said as he scanned the area for any signs of Thurston’s Charger.
“Look,” Alex said, pointing toward the far west corner of the property. “I think I see him over there. He’s on foot.”
Hawk parked his car and eased out. His door was still open when a couple bullets whizzed in his direction.
“Stay here and stay down,” Hawk said.
He checked his gun and then crept in the opposite direction. Sneaking around a pile of rocks, he tried to get into a better position to see Thurston. But he had abandoned his previous location and was on the move.
Hawk swiveled around to see if Thurston was behind him. From what Hawk could see, Thurston was not nearby. Fifty meters away, a conveyor belt hummed as it started operating. Large chunks of rocks chugged upward toward a grinder, distracting Hawk for a second. Another shot pinged off the nearby rocks and sent
Hawk scrambling to get down.
Crawling on his belly, Hawk regained his composure and sought out the best spot to locate Thurston. Twenty meters behind Hawk was another grinder with a ladder. He climbed to the top and peered out over the yard for Thurston. He was huddled near a pile of rocks, contemplating his next move.
Gotcha.
Hawk stole around the back of the quarry and waited for the right moment to press in and capture Thurston. After a minute, Thurston dug his phone out of his pocket while keeping his head on a swivel. He let his defenses down for a moment to dial a number, which is when Hawk raced toward his target.
Thurston looked up just in time to get pistol whipped in the forehead. He folded like a cheap tent, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
CHAPTER 16
Washington, D.C.
THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION officially owned just one building. However, Blunt set up a CIA-sanctioned shell company to facilitate the purchase of a pair of underground facilities for staging and interrogation purposes. Hawk and Alex sped toward the site located just off the Potomac. Upon arriving, Hawk opened the trunk and pulled out a groggy and disoriented Derek Thurston.
With Hawk’s help, Thurston stumbled inside and fell into a chair in the middle of a small interview room. The room had a two-way mirror on the far wall and a small desk in the center with a chair on each side.
“What’s going on here?” Thurston asked.
Hawk used some parachute cord to bind Thurston’s wrists behind his back and to the chair.
“Do you really need to ask that question?” Hawk replied. “You were the one who led us to a rock quarry and then opened fire. I think you know good and well what’s going on.”
Thurston shook his head emphatically, writhing against the bindings, which Hawk had just finished securing.
“I swear. I don’t know anything. Who are you? And why are you doing this to me?”
Alex sauntered into the room and stooped down to get eye level with the captive. “Perhaps we can play Fortnite together sometime again soon, Mr. Undertaker757.”
Thurston set his jaw. “I knew that was a trap. I should’ve never written you back.”
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