Heidi noticed the blood was about to overflow its container. She quickly switched containers and checked the patient for life signs. No pulse. She turned on the pump and signaled the surgeons to start work. In a few minutes she would be draining the second patient.
All color drained from Lisa's face as the surgeons began removing the major bones like a lumber jack felling a tree. She dropped whatever she had in her hand and tried to run out of the building. The last Heidi saw of her was a pair of special security guys grabbing her, gagging her, and taking her out. Heidi knew that was the last she would ever see of Lisa. She wondered how Nikolaus was going to explain it to the party member Lisa had been sleeping with.
***
John had been quite busy over the past few months. Despite the determination of India's upper classes to keep wages down, he had gotten a raise and was now training new hires at his data center. The second building to house programmers had been completed, or at least completed enough that they were starting to bring on development staff. His boss had left most of the interviewing and new hire selection up to him.
He had sent multiple messages out to the cells he communicated with for them to send IT professionals to him. He could almost ensure the people would get in as long as their paperwork was in order and they wouldn't quibble about the low wages. It had been a hard sell. The leaders were unwilling to compromise such a crucial communications backbone. John had promised to train another, but said he needed the people now. They were extremely reluctant until he told them his plan. The following week he hired seven al-Qaeda members. Some of them had just returned from working under H1-B Visa status in the U.S. financial district. They were not allowed to know he also was a member. One week later John had a new temporary roommate he began training on how to process email.
Not long after this, John began hearing rumors that some of the workers were trying to unionize. He had heard of unions springing up in other areas of the country and that even a few locations around this one had become union shops. This scared John to no end. If upper management heard the rumors, security would be tightened dramatically and his plan could never be carried out. He sent several communications back to the cell leaders for them to relay to their members working for him. They had to crush the union at all costs if this plan was to succeed. There were now only three data centers left to migrate. Within eight months more than one third of the world's wealth would be controlled by the systems in his care. Two of the programmers working in the data center had already written software to generate electronic transfers as part of a migration fix for the client. These programmers had come from the financial district in New York, so they knew how to perform wire transfers. With some slight modifications they were certain it could be used to transfer all of the funds from all of the systems if they had access to all of the systems. They simply couldn't risk a union fight now.
***
Ramesh returned to headquarters with the smudgy printouts from Nedim's. He told the man in the suit that they needed to put a new printer at Nedim's if they wanted better results. The man pointed and said, “Take that one.” After finishing his report to the team, Ramesh dutifully boxed up the printer along with some extra ink cartridges and a driver CD.
Once back at Nedim's, he installed the printer, taking his old one out to the trash down the street. He got the drivers installed and tested out the printing function. “Much better!” he told himself.
Shortly after the installation process, Nedim returned home with his other shadow. They both wondered what Ramesh was up to until they saw the new printer. “Where did you get that?” Umar queried.
“Don't ask,” replied Ramesh. All considered that enough conversation on the topic.
Nedim sat down to process email for his shadows. He knew that eventually he would be killed, but at least he now had a better printer. They laughed when Nedim opened the response from his technical support service saying they believed he had a hardware problem. Things progressed in a rather boring manner until Nedim came across one email with special phrases he had not told the others about. He took a deep breath and said, “I guess it is good you brought that printer today.” His shadows looked at him confused. “This is a courier pick up to happen two days from now.”
Outrage gripped both men and raised voices came out with all kind of accusations and statements about Nedim's physical relationship with his mother. Finally, when they simmered down, he looked at them and said: “There hasn't been a courier pick up in over two years. I didn't tell you about it because I thought we were done with that. They stopped happening once everyone embraced the anonymity of email and hidden FTP sites. The instructions tell me to print out all of the information in the file you took yesterday. I am also supposed to add Google aerial maps of the location along with MapQuest driving maps. I am to put it all in a binder, then give it to the person who asks for it on the way to work.”
“We will have to add a tail to him,” both shadows said in unison.
“One thing is certain, you won't be able to follow me closely for a couple of days,” responded Nedim. “This may be a simple way for them to kill me. They could have learned about you by now and decided to use this as a ruse so a killer can get close.”
Neither shadow had considered that possibility. The team would need to call in some resources and spread them around the path Nedim took to work. They would also need to obtain a small courier shoulder bag. It would be the easiest thing to hide a transmitter in. They couldn't risk a voice bug, but a passive location tag that could be tracked by either satellite or hand scanners would allow them to follow the path the documents took, at least until they ditched the bag.
Nedim began printing out the documents from yesterday's file and visiting the map sites to obtain the correct images to print. He knew from experience he needed to print at least four copies of the maps so others could draw on them while making plans. They wouldn't have a copy machine in the mountains. He also started moving the images and files into a directory so he could burn a CD to go along with the documents. They might have a laptop with a solar charger up there in the mountains.
Ramesh raced back to headquarters. A report of this magnitude could not wait. They would need enough team members to cover the nearly two mile walk to where Ramesh worked. They would also need a cheap courier bag from one of the local vendors, then get the locater tag sewn into it. Probably put two or four tags in the bag near some corners so if one failed or was found they could still keep tracking the bag.
The team was somewhat shocked to hear there would be a courier pickup. All members at headquarters expressed outrage this had not been discovered earlier. Ramesh told them Nedim said a courier hadn't been used in over two years since everyone went on-line. He included Nedim's worry that they may have been found out and this was nothing more than an assassination attempt. There was quite a bit of silence in the room when that bomb was dropped.
A lot of pain and effort had gone into working Nedim. While there were still some doubters on the team, he had been a treasure trove of information about al-Qaeda's on-going activities. The flow of email and the ping server had allowed them to put tracking teams on 27 different cells in just a few short weeks. With the notable exception of the Lutton cell, all of the highly active cells were about to be taken down. Some would be arrested and interrogated, others were to simply be killed. A 10 member cell had a senior bomb maker coming to its location to train newbies in how to make bombs. It seemed like a waste to arrest that cell when you only needed a small blast to set off a bigger blast. One small grenade launched through a window once they started blending the components would take care of everybody in the house without leveling the block.
Finally, someone in the room said the one question others were thinking: “How could they have found us?”
“They didn't find us,” responded Hans. “They found what they believe is a weak link.”
“Do we have a leak?” asked the man in the suit.
“No
,” responded Hans. “We have reporters.”
Everybody turned to look at Hans once he dropped that bomb.
Somehow the BBC got a lead that Pakistani intelligence had turned an al-Qaeda operative and was now exploiting him. They had been working every connection they have trying to get further information.
“Don't look at me,” said the Brit.
“Relax, it wasn't you,” Hans continued. They got this lead in America, which leads me to believe someone in an American intelligence agency was feeling unloved. They pointed them at Pakistani intelligence and gave them a vague story because that is all they had. We are clean — for now — but we need to make sure all of the arrest paperwork is filed and doesn't have any of our names on it. They are just about a week away from forcing this story to break.”
“I thought we only had to worry about CNN,” the Brit asked.
“CNN hasn't hired a journalist in 20 years,” the man in the suit retorted. “They take what we give them and only ask for enough to fill the space between commercials. We should have paid more attention to what the BBC was doing here.”
“Doesn't matter now,” said Hans. “We can follow the courier and once the cell raids happen we will have more computers to search. Another communications center will turn up. We knew this well would be pumped dry at some point. It has been a long time since we found a courier though.”
“Agreed,” responded the man in the suit. “I will take care of the paperwork filing. You three take care of obtaining a document bag. You two take care of bringing in mechanics for a tail. Odds are this will be a multi-drop transfer. We probably won't be able to get much, if anything from the first leg of the journey. Once the journey is complete, or we lose the trail, we can round up the various mules for interrogation.”
Hans knew exactly what that last statement meant. We were going to round them up so they could go to the camp. He had received word from the party that the second camp had been activated, but to make it fully operational they needed a few women. A courier-nabbing operation was bound to put at least one woman in the second camp. Most of the couriers wouldn't spend more than a day or two at the first camp. Al-Qaeda couriers worked on the “next hop” principle. They only knew the person they got the information from and the person who got it next. Usually, they didn't even know a name, just a location and a description of something the person would be wearing. You only found out where the information was going if you caught the last courier in the chain.
Islamic extremists were outright stupid in Hans' mind. It didn't matter how much college education they had or how many infidels they killed, they would always remain stupid. This stupidity stood out predominantly in their treatment and views of women. The extremists treated women as little more than cum receptacles. They were supposed to remain illiterate, quiet, and out of sight. They were a necessary evil for producing sons, and nothing more. Lo be the woman whose first child was a girl.
These very same people had no problem whatsoever with letting pregnant women strap bombs to themselves and blow up buses. Besides becoming martyrs, women were habitually used as links in a courier chain. Because women were not allowed to go out alone, they tended to have their daughters or other women with them when they were carrying messages. This was probably one of the reasons women were to remain illiterate, so they couldn't read the messages they carried.
Hans tried to picture someone telling one of the German women he knew to be subservient. That was just asking to die a slow and painful death, assuming you weren't lucky enough to piss her off so much she killed you instantly.
No, al-Qaeda was little more than the scum that grew under the rim of a public toilet and it was long past time to scrub the toilet.
***
Margret sat around work after 6 PM. She had received an email telling her the Data Storage & Recovery team wanted to meet at 7:30. Since it was a four-star place, Margret decided to tolerate the inconvenience. She had finished the last of the work she wanted to do around 5:30 and was now debating about going home and changing. Margret had eaten at that restaurant once before. Her normal business attire was probably not going to go unnoticed. True, she had on a suit, and a good suit, but it was a suit. This place traditionally wanted women in evening dresses. She did have several she hadn't yet worn. There was time to go home and change prior to the meeting. She knew her companion for the evening would be changing now. With that, she logged off and left for home.
Yes, Big Four Consulting was going to be buying two meals tonight, and the second meal was going to be a real bitch slap, literally. Margret had called Carol and told her to read up on FDIC regulations, then to meet her at the restaurant at 7 PM so they could talk at the bar for a while. Carol might have been the only female lawyer the bank currently had. Well, had before consuming all of the other banks. Margret didn't know any of the other lawyers at the other divisions around the world. Carol had been given the gist of what Margret had dropped on Big Four Consulting and Carol chuckled at hearing it. She had never eaten at the restaurant, but heard it was incredible. She said she might have a surprise for Margret when they met.
As Margret changed, she wondered what kind of surprise Carol was talking about. She and Carol hadn't really socialized. They chatted from time to time, but never stopped for drinks after work. Carol had been a key player when it came to contracts for the IT department and she was typically well versed in whatever federal regulation they might be about to bump into. “Bump,” laughed Margret. We don't “bump” into regulations, we simply choose to ignore them and avoid creating a document trail saying we broke the law. In any event, Margret was dressing to the nines and willing to let whatever happened happen tonight.
Margret arrived at the restaurant roughly the same time Carol got there. She assumed this because Carol was still poking around the bar looking for her when she walked in. No doubt about it, Carol looked hot. It had been a long time since Margret had sampled anything looking that good. They saw each other and Carol came over to Marget.
“You look great!” Carol exclaimed.
“Figured it was time to bring out the big guns on this one,” responded Margret.
“They are definitely some serious artillery,” Carol spoke without thinking.
Margret laughed. “I'm glad you like them. Let's find a table around here so you can fill me in on what you have found.”
They quickly found a table out of earshot of the other patrons and ordered a round of drinks. Once the waitress left Margret looked at Carol and said: “So, tell me what you found.”
“Your interpretation on the FDIC requirements was pretty accurate when they are taken strictly. Many feel they are more of a guideline, but I have a few contacts who love putting the hurt on big consulting firms.”
The waitress returned with their drinks and Margret opened a tab with her credit card. Once the waitress left Carol opened her leather folder and pulled out a fax from an inspector for the FDIC. It came complete with their letterhead. In a nutshell it stated while they had been somewhat understanding in the interpretation of this requirement when large scale disasters such as floods and multi-state power outages had struck, they (the FDIC) had no intention of looking the other way when a recovery plan required 14 hours of flight time during good weather just to get the backup media.
“Well, well, well” said Margret. “Won't this be a major knife in the back if they try to play it down.”
“Yes it should,” responded Carol, “But it isn't the best part. According to regulations, everyone with access to the data center or an account that can complete transactions must be fingerprinted and have a notarized Securities and Exchange Commission pledge on file with their signature.”
“I wasn't aware of that requirement,” Margret said.
“Most people aren't. It was lightly enforced prior to 9/11, but now they are stepping up the drive to get all paperwork in order. Do you want to hear the best part?”
Margret simply smiled and looked Carol directly in the ey
e. Carol reached into her leather folder and pulled out another document with the heading “Proposed Rule Change 86113B.” It was definitely written in lawyer-ease, but the gist of it was they were going to make it a requirement for banks receiving FDIC insurance coverage to only use U.S. citizens in their data centers.
“When is this taking affect?” queried Margret.
“Still has to be commented and voted on by the regulatory board. It could be a full-fledged regulation within a year though. A lot of international banks are lobbying against it, but the FDIC is waving around some documents from the NSA and Congress is talking about expanding the Patriot Act if the FDIC doesn't enact this regulation. Within 12 months it will either be a regulation or a law. A regulation will just cost you a fine and your insurance, a law will send people to jail.”
“Well, no need for either Kent or Kathryn to know about this little tidbit,” Margret chimed. “His signature and those of the board are the ones on the contract.”
Carol got an evil grin on her face and said, “Now that is a power play!”
They clinked glasses, finished the drinks, and ordered another round.
“Well, you have handed me quite a surprise tonight Carol.”
“Oh, that wasn't the surprise I was talking about on the phone,” responded Carol.
“Oh?”
“Hubby is watching the kids tonight. I told him we were going to try to drink the consulting budget dry tonight and crash either at your place or a hotel, whichever was close enough to reach by crawling.”
Margret laughed, “That's a plan, not a surprise.”
Carol looked Margret intently in the eyes and said, “He doesn't know. He probably never will know. But, I think I read you right, and I think you are OK with the rest of the plan.”
The waitress showed up with their new drinks. Once she had left, Margret looked Carol in the eyes, raised her glass and said, “That definitely sounds like a plan.” They clinked their glasses, drank, and made idle chat while waiting for the consulting firm to arrive.
Infinite Exposure Page 10
