The rest of the team was beginning to worry about the member who applied at the call center. He had been gone 14 hours without reporting in. Finally he showed up at headquarters and said he was headed back to his apartment for sleep. He was hired and started that day. He was working on the same floor as the suspect and only a few aisles away from him. The team had dipped into the operational fund to set several members up with their own apartments in the same complex as the two suspects.
Three members shared an apartment, which allowed them to observe the entry to both suspects' apartments. One of the apartments they had gotten for a member just happened to be directly above the apartment where the new email hub was running. They obtained some tools and equipment to install both video and audio surveillance in the apartment below. Because this person was also now a coworker of that man, they had to hide the wiring and recording equipment. This meant they actually had to put the carpet back down and the cable under it once they had drilled through the floor and tapped into the overhead lights of both the living room and the second bedroom where the computer was.
While the team was checking out the video equipment, they noticed the man actually had a land line phone in his apartment. This was quite unheard of in India. They cobbled together an extension cord, an AC regulator, and a gator clip; then accessed the main phone panel for the building. Only four phones had actually been hooked up. They didn't want to risk a tap being discovered at the site, so they went to work with the AC regulator while one team member stayed inside on a cell phone watching the surveillance equipment. On their third try, they found the phone line.
Most phone systems had been based on the American standard of TIP and RING. A land line phone actually only uses two wires. The TIP is always positive and the RING is rather odd. When the ringer on the phone is idle, this line has -48 volts DC. To make the phone ring 90 volts of 20hz AC current is superimposed on the line. To find out which phone line went to this apartment, they simply put the correct current on the ring line for a second and waited for a report on the cell phone. When the person observing the surveillance equipment heard the phone ring, he reported it.
As the men returned to the apartment one of them asked the man who built the ring generator, “Why are the lines called TIP and RING?”
“They are names which stuck around long past their usefulness.”
“You sure you're not an MBA, because you gave me a response, not an answer and that is exactly what they do.”
“Have you ever seen old black and white photos or newsreel footage, on the History Channel or any other place, of women wearing these big headsets sitting at a funky table with a lot of cables sticking up, and a big board to plug them into in front of them? The old telephone operator footage?”
“Yes, so?”
“Each one of those retractable cables had a special pointed connector on it, much like the connectors you see for AC adapters to power 12-volt or lower DC equipment, only much larger. Inside of the cable was two wires. One wire went to the tip of the connector and another wire was connected to one of the rings on the larger part of the connector. You've noticed how some of those pointed adapters have those ridges going around them haven't you?”
“Yes, but I thought it was just to keep them in place.”
“In part it is, but it also makes for a different connection point. That is why they have different colorings. At any rate, most telephones still use two wires and most people still call those wires TIP and RING.”
With all of the prep work done, the team set in for a long boring surveillance routine. At least now they were doing it from an apartment where they could keep food in the fridge and easily use the bathroom. They had heard what a team was going to have to do to observe the new email hub in Pakistan. None of them wanted any part of that duty. Oh, it wasn't just the lying in the sun under desert temperatures, the bug bites, scorpions, and having to shit in your own den to keep from making any more footprints — it was the region itself. There was no telling when a drug caravan would come along and kill you simply because you were there.
At last they wrote up a summary of their work and all current information they had on the two suspects. The summary was attached to an email which was sent to both Hans and the man in the suit.
***
Stacie returned home to her roomies after nearly a month in France. To some it sounds really nice to say it out loud, but Stacie didn't want a trip like that again. Three grueling weeks moving from location to location staying in a different hotel each night and packing each morning. It didn't help that she had the vocabulary of a second grader in French and most of the tellers they were training wanted nothing to do with the PC that showed up at their window the day before.
There was one bright spot though. Because First Global had to obtain a standardized computer and get it installed at each teller window in each location, they had agreed to shut locations down as the roll-out progressed. Each location would be down for about half a day while the new computers were installed and the first bit of training happened. The rest of the day was spent walking around answering questions as best she could. Thankfully she had been assigned a Pytho training person who spoke French natively.
On her next to last day in France, Stacie emailed Jeremy.
Jeremy,
It has been a long grueling road trip. We work until the bank closes every night, then drive to the next town with a bank location or as close as we can get where there is still a hotel. Wake up at 5AM local time and arrive at the bank to begin a training session at 6:30AM.
This weekend we ARE going to Salish. Make the reservation and be sure to book a two hour session in the Spa for me on Saturday. Massage, mud treatment, the works!
Miss you
Stacie
Part of her was worried about putting the little affectionate closes on these email messages, but the other part of her knew that if they turned up in an audit it would be better for both of them to be dismissed as young lovers using the company email rather than what they were really doing. Then again, Stacie thought, if he makes anywhere near the money I think he is going to make from this information, he should be setting me up as at least a 'Kept Woman' if he doesn't have the mettle to make an honest woman out of me. That last thought really shocked Stacie. She hadn't thought about getting married since she was a little girl. Stacie wanted it all. The good life, the expensive clothes, the international travel, and the career. She was in no way looking forward to totaling out her body by having someone's kid. It must have been something I ate which made me think that.
When Stacie's roomies got home from their jobs, they couldn't wait to badger her for all of the details. Of course Stacie had to fill them in on the grueling pace first and they dutifully listened, considering it the toll that must be paid to travel this road. Then Stacie pulled out the road map of France she had bought. On it she had marked every town and put a number by it. In a document on her notebook she had a trip diary that she planned on sharing with Kathryn. It listed the date and each location as well as the hotel they stayed at the night before.
On those rare occasions when they were in a city large enough to have more than one branch, the girls actually were taken out for supper by the branch manager. One branch manager decided that these ladies had eaten in too many restaurants and actually took them to his home for a meal prepared by his wife and mother-in-law.
Little was done in the way of sightseeing except on Sundays. Many branches were open on Saturday so this was a six day work week. There were only four locations in Paris and Stacie wasn't senior enough to pull rank for those. She had gotten to see some smaller museums and tour some wineries. Her roomies took the opportunity to thank her for the bottles of wine she had sent. They had all been torn between trying it and waiting for her to return so they could share. When she was finished one of her roomies said, “Wow. Sounds like you didn't have a good time.”
“It was a working trip, not a vacation,” responded Stacie. “Besid
es I'm taking Friday off to fly out for the weekend. Won't be coming back until Monday.”
“Where are you taking off to now?” her roomies asked.
“Salish Lodge for a weekend of pampering and incredible sex. I've got two hours in the spa on Saturday afternoon for massage, mud bath, the works.”
Total jealousy filled the room. It was the honor of those achieving a new plane of womanhood to feel an elevated level of satisfaction and achievement from such a swell of jealousy, much like a surfer riding a wave. It was the duty of all girls who claimed to have achieved some level of womanhood to provide said jealousy in the air when another of their rank scored such an achievement.
Stacie looked right into their eyes with a smile, laughed lightly and asked, “What?” Their eyes screamed back the phrase “I haven't had good sex in over a month you bitch!” but outwardly one of them asked the question they both wanted to know: “Same guy as the restaurant?”
“If you must know, yes.” Of course they must know! Asking is part of the unwritten law of womanhood!
“You must have him totally whipped!”
“Guess we'll see,” smirked Stacie and the rest of the girls laughed. “If you are still working him over at Christmas you should have him bring friends and take us all out on New Year's,” suggested one of her roomies. “Hear! Hear! I second that!” chanted the other roomie. “You've dipped into the wealthy and eligible pool, time to share the pool pass.”
“Ladies, this is only the second weekend away with the guy. It's not like I own him yet!” laughed Stacie.
“It's your second FANTABULOUS weekend with the guy!” one of her roomies exclaimed. “New Year's is only four months away so tell him this weekend. You know how long it takes guys to get organized for something like this.”
Stacie got a wicked gleam in her eye as she became silent and looked at them. They sensed something was up and got quiet, too. Finally Stacie broke the silence by saying, “So ladies. Are you both telling me that you agree here and now to sleep with whomever we bring for your dates from his pool of friends?”
Glances went back and forth. Cheeks blushed. Heads nodded. “Is that a yes or a no?” asked Stacie to stretch out the tease. “Yes,” they both said in unison. “Does that mean you're going to do it?”
“Get me some digital pictures of yourselves and I will email them to him tonight. Then you ladies need to think about what hotel you want to have sex in on New Year's. I believe he still has quite a few good looking single friends.”
Both girls hugged her and scampered off to copy some pictures of themselves for Stacie. Neither of them had ever managed to be dating a great guy who had both the resources and desire to take them to one of those all-inclusive, grand hotel New Year's Eve parties. Stacie knew this would be special for them. She also knew that both girls had done a few one night stands in their day, so this wasn't going to be that difficult for them. She didn't bother to tell them that she knew some of Jeremy's friends from college. This should be an easy setup. Jeremy wasn't about to turn down guaranteed great sex with her on New Year's and his pool of still-single male friends weren't the type to get tied down so they would be able to commit to a sure thing. Four months lead time would give them time to put away some cash for the evening, perhaps even get themselves better suits.
***
Hans had just finished hooking up the satellite Internet connection and satellite phone system in the new headquarters. He booted the main server, then, when it was done, booted his laptop to check email. It had taken him all of six hours to get this far. He still had to set up the wet erase board in the room they would use as a war room and set up what would serve as an office for the man in the suit. When it comes to the assignment of office space in a new temporary headquarters, rank was irrelevant. If you expected others to set things up for you, then you got what they gave you. Hans' office was a full six square feet bigger than the one for the man in the suit.
There were only three other office type rooms and one other large area meant for some kind of cubical furniture. Most of the team would make do with some office folding tables, secretary chairs, and locking file cabinets. They were only here for briefings and coffee. This wasn't supposed to be as involved an operation as the one they ran in Pakistan.
Plowing headlong though his email, Hans got to the one sent by the team already on-site. He let out a long low whistle when he read what they had done. The man in the suit was actually going to show emotion over this. They went way beyond their orders. Hans was one of the few allowed to go beyond orders. Still, what they had done had been correct. Had Hans been here to pass it by, he would have authorized it. One thing was certain, this team was mostly professionals. Because none of them knew about Vladimir, Hans forwarded the email onto him just to see what came of it. Then he sent the team an email telling them where the new headquarters was. He also scheduled a meeting for the following day while their suspects were both at work.
Hans sat back and wondered what the odds were for one of the team to get recruited by al-Qaeda. They certainly knew where two of their communications people were working. Did these people also do recruiting? Nobody really knew. Until now it was always assumed that the clerics and a select few recruited, but that assumption didn't seem to hold water when it was compared to the stories coming back from the interrogation camp. Most were recruited locally by someone they knew and specifically for an objective.
The cells didn't seem to be like unions, which simply wanted body counts paying dues. They seemed to have a couple of leaders, then swell their numbers for a particular strike. Once the strike occurred they would scatter and regroup somewhere else ... those who had not been chosen for martyrdom. Hans still had to laugh at that phrase “chosen for martyrdom.” What it really meant is the fat cats told you to die and like an idiot you did it. Hans had been on his fair share of suicide missions. At least with a suicide mission there was some probability, however small, of coming back alive. If there wasn't, Hans wouldn't be sitting here today.
He wrote all of these thoughts down in an email which he sent to Vladimir and the man in the suit. He felt Vladimir should be brought into the decision making level. The man could really think things through, and without him their operation would have been over. Might as well completely piss off the man in the suit today by letting him know Vladimir's opinion was to be included.
“If the man in the suit actually managed to get in country in time for tomorrow's meeting, it should be entertaining and educational for all,” laughed Hans. “He has little choice but to come now, we are way off his game plan and running with the ball.”
***
The Brit was rather angry when he got back what was left of the old headquarters. He barely had a place to sit or a machine to work with. He thought he would be sent to a new temporary headquarters somewhere close to the communications center. When the man in the suit told him the reason they hadn't set up a new headquarters in this country, he was rightly corked. He threw stuff, he cussed, he hollered, and most of all he wanted to go back home to continue with the roundups. “Working on a remote server is working on a remote server,” he argued.
When it came to the man in the suit, there were a lot of rumors and very little fact. Some said he had organized death squads for some militant regime, others said he was a war criminal who really came from Afghanistan and was simply doing this job to keep security forces off his back. All of the rumors had one thing in common: They described the man in the suit as the kind of guy who would put little sore ass ducks in salt water for no other reason than he could. Today, the Brit was learning the truth behind that statement.
“I have decided we will work as best as we can from here until we can deal with this communications center.”
“Deal with it? We can't even get close to it.”
“Some special-forces, long-range recon personnel have been dispatched. They will observe from one of the mountain peaks about a mile or so away and look for a high-profile target.”
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“A target? Just whack the site.”
“There would be no believable cover story and al-Qaeda would know we are onto their trainer. We have to sit and observe, waiting for an opportunity to have the Pakistani military blast it off the map. They will put out a story about the high-profile target being there and that will be the reason the hut was blown up. Everything else was just collateral damage.”
“Just how many targets like that visited our last communications center in the time we had control of it?”
“None. This one is different though. Being located in Khyber Pass, it will be where field commanders go into and out of Afghanistan when their communications equipment is down. There is a very high probability we will identify someone on the international most wanted list.”
“In the mean time, I'm stuck here working remotely with most of the office equipment gone. You can't even get a bloody cup of coffee here!”
The man in the suit was not having a good day. He knew Hans was correct and the Brit should have been sent on. The simple truth was that the man in the suit was old school Pakistani. He hated India and was looking for any excuse not to go. He reached into his pocket an pulled out a handful of money then stuck it in the Brit's hand. “Go buy another coffee pot and coffee. Don't forget cream and sugar. See if we still have any cups before you leave.”
***
Lenny touched down in the early morning hours, at least his body clock said it was early morning. It looked like noon outside. He managed to get through customs with his briefcase and one piece of luggage. He was lucky enough to see a big display board with the hotels listed in separate squares. Each one had a three digit number to dial on the special phone for the shuttle service. Thank God the person spoke English! Lenny thought as he heard them pick up. He said his name and the airline he had just arrived on. They told him to watch for the shuttle bus. It should be there inside of 15 minutes.
Within the hour Lenny was checked into his room and calling Vladimir via his disposable phone. Vladimir told him the meeting was in five hours. He should eat something and get to sleep. Keep the phone by the bed with the ringer on loud. Vladimir would call him one hour before the meeting. The meeting was to occur in his hotel suite. Vladimir would contact room service and arrange for meals to be delivered to the room. This would be a meeting where you ate and drank. Lenny agreed to everything, then went in search of some fast food. The hotel restaurant was still serving a breakfast buffet. Lenny really had a taste for a burger and fries, but after starving on the flight the “all you can eat” part was starting to sound good.
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