by John Ringo
“Who is it?” the President asked rhetorically.
“Doing a voice comparison will be hard,” Parais said. “The quality of the data has been damaged by the voice modifier. I’m not sure we could be certain of the identity based upon that data. Even if we ran it against Echelon, we’d probably come up with hundreds, possibly thousands, of hits. The reason being, we’d have to spread the net for the hits. We couldn’t say ‘Give me the person this is’ because it would bring back either ‘no one’ or someone that sounds just like that, which probably wouldn’t mean Grantham because just because it sounds like him to the human ear, doesn’t mean it matches signal…”
“It doesn’t,” Vanner interjected. “We checked. The signal spread is all wrong.”
“So that’s a confirmation that it’s not Grantham,” Parais said, nodding.
“Explain,” the president said.
“The human voice is more than just what we hear,” Greznya said, softly. “There are not only undertones and overtones, things beyond our range of hearing, but frequencies within the sounds we can hear that are cancelled out. When you take all of that and break it down, it creates a very distinct signature, the ‘voice print’ of a person. I actually ran the comparison of this man’s voice against Senator Grantham’s. You can see where the voice has been modified and where it has not. And there has been no modification of the under and over tones. It has only seventy points of congruence to Senator Grantham and three hundred noncongruent points. And additional fifty three were ambiguous and fell outside standard probability.”
“I brought Greznya rather than one of the other girls because she’s my best person at voice recognition,” Vanner said. “She can pick out which Chechen or Russian commanders we’re picking up on the basis of less than a full word.”
“Sort of like when a radio station plays just one bit of a song?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir,” Vanner replied. “And she’s very good at voice analysis as well.”
“This is not Senator Grantham, whoever he is,” Greznya said, softly but firmly. “I have listened to six of his speeches and compared them to this person’s voice, tone and word choice. Admittedly, the subject matter is highly different, but this person uses certain word strings that are not consistent with the senator. And that is ignoring the fact that the voice analysis is not a match.”
“Any idea who he is?” the President asked, just as softly, looking with interest at the girl.
“He is an American,” Layela said. “He naturally has an accent consistent with the northeastern United States. He has some habitual phrases that he may use in common company, notably ‘playing with the big boys’ and ‘gaming the future.’ He is between twenty-five and thirty at a guess based upon his natural tones. He is a nonsmoker. There is no sign of smoking degradation in his voice, however there is slight age degradation. I would say that he is college educated or at least uses large words frequently. More than that I cannot tell.”
“That’s a bit,” Parais said, nodding. “We’ll look at it as well.”
“Carefully,” the secretary of defense said. “Very carefully. And you’re going to need to bring the FBI in on it.”
“That, unfortunately, is an absolute,” the President sighed. “Okay, Mike, you don’t do this for free. What’s the cost on Lunari?”
“I’m also not a mercenary, Mr. President,” Mike said after a moment’s thought. “I do what I do and if there’s a reward I collect it. The question I’ve been asking all along is ‘why go to Lunari?’ I know why I did the other things I did; Lunari is a bit more nebulous. Clear a senator? Not sure I care enough to lose a single Keldara. Make sure that a Brit Foreign Office brahmin isn’t being blackmailed? Ditto. Money has never been the reason I do what I do and you know it.”
“It’s important,” the NSA said, frowning. “Very important. If it weren’t, would we be here?”
“I know it’s important,” Mike said. “I’m just wondering if it’s important to me. And mine, I might add.”
“Depends,” the secretary of state said. “You’re going to get a lot of enemies out of this. You’re already going to get them, no matter how we play it after stirring this up. But if we can get all the data, you’re also going to have some friends. Some very senior friends.”
“Trust not in the friendship of princes,” Mike said, still frowning. “I don’t know why I even brought it up. I know I’m going to Lunari and I’ll get the DVDs if at all possible. But I’m not sure it’s going to be possible. Insertion and extraction is going to be a bitch. And we’ve got no intel.”
“There’s a possibility, there,” Parais said. “But not for this discussion.”
“As to getting paid,” Mike said, shrugging. “The good senator from New Jersey owes me five mil if I find the girl. I pointed out to him that if his ‘constituent’ didn’t pay up, he was going to be given the bill. Let him pay it.”
“We’ll talk,” the President said, standing up. “You’re going?”
“I’m going,” Mike said, looking at the table. “God help me.”
“He will,” the President said, nodding. “His hand will be over you, Mike. I know it will.”
“Thanks,” Mike said. “Although I’ll admit I’d rather have a B-52 loaded with JDAMs.”
* * *
“You said you have data for us,” Mike said when the President and most of his party had left.
“We’ve got a partial layout for the streets,” Parais said, sliding over a DVD. “Also some data on the building but not the interior. I had an intel crew sweep for computer noise and there wasn’t any. However, we know there is at least one computer in the building from information on the street. So…”
“It’s shielded,” Vanner said, sighing. “Which means they know how important this place is.”
“There are at least twenty guards on duty at all times in and around the building,” Parais continued. “And there are more than sixty working for the same clan in the area. All of them will come swarming at the first sign of a firefight. In addition, if it’s apparent that it’s not the regular authorities, such as they are, or another clan attacking, the other clans are likely to pile in. I’m not sure about reaction times, but you’re looking at Mogadishu if it drops in the pot.”
“We need more intel,” Mike said, shrugging. “We need interiors. We need to know where the DVDs are. We need to know where Natalya is. We can’t even be sure she’s still there. What about a ground-pen sweep?”
“There aren’t any tasked for that area at the moment,” Pierson said. “I checked.”
“Bob, the President just made a special effort to stop by,” Mike said with a sigh. “Retask.”
“That’s not a simple action, Mike,” Pierson argued. “I can’t just pick up the phone and…”
“Yes, you can,” Mike said, his face hard. “You pick up the phone, call your boss and say ‘Hi, I need a ground penetration satellite retasked. Why? It’s compartmentalized. But the President asked.’ Do you really think he’s going to ask the President if he really asked? And if he does, do you think the President won’t back it? Hell, Bob, I shouldn’t have even had to ask. We should already have the data.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Pierson replied with a sigh.
“I’ll get it retasked,” Parais said. “Easier and less questions if I order it. And you’re right, this is a presidential directive mission. That’s easily a high enough priority.”
“Preferably, we need people inside,” Mike added, looking thoughtful.
“Dracul?” Vanner asked.
“Not if there are that many guards,” Mike said, shaking his head. “The lack of intel is what’s getting me. But I’m not sure how to get someone in the club.”
“We can get a girl in,” Carlson-Smith noted. “The data from Rozaje included some internal e-mails of the clan. Girls go to Lunari from all over. All we have to do is pull a car up with the right words, drop the girl off and leave. The driver doesn’t even
have to be Albanian. Of course, that leaves her in a very bad spot. I’m not sure MI-6 has a female agent who would take that mission. Lunari is nearly as bad as Rozaje.”
“That’s not an issue,” Mike said, distantly. “I’ve got one. I just can’t figure out how to get the intel out. She won’t have a way to send out commo and she won’t be able to just up and leave. Even if she can develop intel, it won’t do us any good.”
“We might be able to offer some help,” Parais said uneasily. “I was directly ordered to offer this technology but I’m not happy about it. It’s highly classified.”
“Get over the pro-forma protests,” Mike said, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
“The tech is experimental,” Parais said. “But we can internally wire a person for sound and video. Not very good video, but both. And it’s almost untraceable. And for sure won’t turn up on standard scanners.”
“How the hell do you do that?” Mike asked, blinking.
“You hook it up to the optic nerve,” Vanner said, watching the DIA secretary carefully. “You either preprocess there or send out a rough signal and process it somewhere else. I’ve read about the theory. Has it actually been done?”
“Not on humans,” Parais admitted. “We haven’t been able to find an agent that will permit the operation. It’s not without risks. Blindness for one.”
“You’re thinking about inserting Cottontail?” Vanner asked.
“Yep,” Mike said thoughtfully. “We’ll need a doctor who’s willing to carefully explain the risks. Where would you do this?”
“There’s a special hospital in Virginia…” Parais said.
“Does she get Dr. Quinn?” Mike asked, laughing.
“Been there, have you?” Parais smiled. “That’s actually one of my charges. But that’s where the procedure would take place.”
“We’re probably on short time here,” Mike pointed out. “The Albanians know what they have and with Rozaje hit they’re going to do something about it.”
“The procedure is fairly noninvasive,” Parais said. “At least from what I’ve been told. They go in through the nose for the video portion and there’s only a very small implant in the mastoid for the audio. It’s something like having a tooth pulled.”
“I’ll have to pitch it to Katya,” Mike said, frowning. “If she goes for it, we’ll drop her off on our way through with someone to keep an eye on her after the procedure. How long for full recovery?”
“A day or two at most,” the DIA director said.
“What about… I dunno, security?” Mike asked.
“The transmitters are frequency hopping and use burst signal compression,” Parais said. “Very hard to detect and they’re encrypted transmissions. The data won’t get compromised.”
“I just hope the agent doesn’t,” Mike replied.
Chapter Thirty-Two
As soon as the unmarked plane landed in Vegas, Mike pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. Not surprisingly, he had a half dozen messages.
“Gurum, it’s the Kildar,” Mike said, walking over to the waiting minivan. He nodded at the driver as he entered and just hoped the guy actually knew where he was supposed to be going.
“Kildar,” Gurum said, in a relieved tone. “I have arranged a meeting with a Mr. Robert Thomas and his partner Mr. Colin Macnee for this evening. In about an hour and a half. Are you going to be able to attend?”
“Probably,” Mike replied. “Driver? Time to the hotel?”
“About twenty minutes, sir,” the driver said.
“Probably,” Mike repeated. “If I’m there in an hour, the answer is yes. You checked out Thomas?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Gurum burbled happily. “He was one of the people on my short list of potential distributors. I’ve had three other companies express strong interest in the line, but Mr. Thomas’s company specializes in placing high-end beers in specialty stores and bars. I think that he is likely to be the best bet we have for a really good income from the product line.”
“Sounds good,” Mike said. “I hope to see you in an hour and fifteen or so.”
“Oh, and both Daria and Colonel Nielson have been attempting to contact you,” Gurum added.
“I’ve got them on my cell to call back,” Mike replied, sighing. “By the way, have you seen Chief Adams?”
“No, Kildar,” the brewery manager replied, puzzled. “I had assumed he was with you.”
“No.” Mike frowned. “I haven’t seen him since we landed. If you see him, tell him to give me a call, okay?”
“Yes, Kildar.”
“See you in a bit.”
He hit the disconnect and looked at the other calls. One was a number he didn’t recognize, one was from Nielson, another was from D.C. and the last was from Adams’s phone. Ah-hah! The chief had finally checked in from whatever he’d been doing. He called that one first.
“Daria.”
“Why do you have the chief’s phone?” Mike asked.
“I’ve been setting up our return flight,” Daria replied. “I borrowed it from him while we were still on the plane. He seemed more than willing to give it up. Mr. Hardesty had to return for another charter and there was a hold-up on ground transportation in Georgia. I was calling, though, to tell you that Colonel Nielson wants to talk to you and that we got a call from a number in Washington that refused to leave a message. They stated that they were calling for Colonel Pierson, though and I took a number as well as giving them the number to your cell phone.”
“Thanks,” Mike said. “Do we have transportation? Wait; Hardesty had all our gear!”
“That has been handled,” Daria said and he could practically hear the dimples. “I called OSOL and discreetly explained the problem. I suspect that the other call is about that.”
“Thanks,” Mike said, sighing. “I’m going to have to read Hardesty the riot act, though. I’ve got to call Nielson. If you see the chief, tell him to call me.”
“I will, Kildar.”
“Kildar Caravanserai, Obreckta speaking, how may I help you sir or ma’am?”
“Obreckta, this is the Kildar,” Mike said, looking at his watch and doing the time in his head. “Is the colonel still up?”
“Yes, Kildar,” Obreckta replied. “Please hold while I transfer you.”
“Nielson.”
“Jenkins,” Mike replied. “What’s up?”
“I dunno, you wanna tell me?” the colonel replied testily. “I think we should go secure.”
“Scrambled. Again, what’s up?”
“I got a call from the U.S. embassy stating that we were going to be receiving some ‘training cadre’ from the U.S. Army. You know anything about that?”
“Damn that was quick,” Mike replied wonderingly. “Expect three SF teams or so and some Rangers. Officially, they’re going to be training the Keldara. Unofficially… I’ll talk about it when I get back.”
“Okay,” Nielson said, sighing. “I’ll start working on bunking.”
“The barracks is going to be cleared out,” Mike said. “That’s part of the ‘unofficially.’ ”
“I need to hear this, don’t I?” Nielson replied.
“Yep. But not over a phone. Even a secure phone. When I get back. Which will be on Tuesday or so.”
“See you then.”
He looked at the last number and dialed it as the minivan pulled into the reception area of the hotel.
“OSOL, Captain McGraffin speaking.”
“Jenkins.”
“Go scramble, please.”
“Be aware that I’m in an unsecure area.”
“Oh.” The officer on the other end of the line paused for a moment. “Your materials are going to be sent to your home base via military transport. Clear enough?”
“Clear enough,” Mike said.
“Your oh-so-efficient secretary informed us that she had already secured a charter aircraft to return your personnel. Do you need anything else?”
“Not at this time,”
Mike replied. “And I’m not sure about the wisdom of using mil craft for moving the materials. I’ll discuss it at another time.”
“Understood,” McGraffin said. “Anything else?”
“Negative. Oh, one thing. I’m missing a man. My second in command, actually. Anyone heard from Adams on your end since we landed?”
“Uh.” There was a pause as McGraffin clearly checked his paperwork. “Negative on that, Mr. Jenkins.”
“Thanks,” Mike replied, frowning. “Out here.”
Mike hadn’t even realized that he’d navigated his way to the elevator by instinct.
And he still wasn’t sure who’d sent the driver.
Or where his second-in-command had got to.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Kildar, it is very good you are here,” Gurum said nervously as Mike entered the suite.
The penthouse was more of a two story town-home, much more spacious than any apartment Mike had ever owned. Daria had mentioned getting a deal on it, but he was pretty sure the penthouse was costing more than the convention space. With thick carpeting, original paintings on the walls and antique or designer furniture, it seemed far too luxuious for his needs. However, one of the Keldara girls had been over it for security and determined that the conference room, which was entirely interior with no external walls or windows, was set up very much like a secure room. And the rest of the security on the suite was similar. There was one door and anyone approaching the door had to traverse a long corridor for which there was a security camera. The suite was clearly designed for use by paranoid executives and movie stars, which made it well suited for Mike.
“What’s the status, Gurum?” Mike asked, his brain still filled with the problems of the Lunari mission.
“Mr. Thomas will be here shortly,” Gurum replied. “But not on time. He just called and he’s running a little late. I am thinking of starting with a bid of two euros per bottle, freight on board at P’Otly, ten euros for the keg.”
