Retribution - A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller Book #7

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “The American government, apparently.”

  Temple grunted at Davis’ calming smile. “Thank God I have you, Tanya, otherwise I think I’d go insane.”

  “Let me snap, sir, you’re too important.”

  He chuckled, staring at the photo of his wife. “She always liked you, you know. She trusted you.”

  “I always liked her too, sir.”

  He sighed, spinning his chair toward the windows, the sun low on the horizon. He drummed his fingers on the arms, rhythmically calming himself. The NSA was responsible for the leak, and there was nothing he could do to them. Hopefully, he could apply pressure through his own connections and those of his friends now expressing support, so some heads would roll. Some might lose their jobs, though he doubted any would actually see the inside of a prison.

  But Davis was right. They weren’t who launched the attack. Their crime was incompetence. Idiocy.

  The man who stole it, he was responsible. And Simmons would soon have him. The problem was that if this man was still free, then for some reason the NSA hadn’t been willing to press charges, giving him time enough to sell his secrets, and somehow remain free.

  Hopefully, Simmons will break him.

  The ToolKit was sold to someone, and they needed to find out who. Some hacker or hackers, somewhere, had used what was stolen to launch the attack that had killed his daughter. These hackers were responsible, and they had to pay.

  With their lives.

  He was sick and tired of hackers operating with impunity, protected by borders and foreign governments unwilling to take action.

  It had to stop.

  And there was only one way he could think of accomplishing that.

  “You said there are camera trucks outside?”

  “Yes, sir. Three at last count.”

  He rose, stepping toward his bathroom, discretely hidden behind a false wall. He entered, examining himself in the mirror, straightening his hair. He stepped back out and headed for the door. “I think it’s time to make a statement to the press.”

  Davis leaped to her feet. “Is that wise? What with Simmons out there and all?”

  He held open the door for her and she stepped through. “That’s precisely why. The world knows how angry I am. If I don’t say something, now that this story has broken, they’ll wonder why. If people start winding up dead, someone might just figure out I’m behind it.”

  They boarded his private elevator. The doors closed and Davis stood before him, confirming he hadn’t missed anything in the mirror.

  “How do I look?”

  “The very model of a modern major-general.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m the grieving father and widower, remember?”

  “Of course, sir. But I think as soon as you start talking, that won’t be a problem.” Her face clouded over. “Just be careful, sir. No one must know what we’re doing.”

  The doors opened, and he smiled at her through thin lips. They stepped through the lobby, a gaggle of press outside the doors, held back by building security, the flashing lights of police arriving suggesting his staff feared they would be overwhelmed. He stepped through the revolving doors, coming to a stop in the small cleared area in front of the building.

  The reporters erupted.

  He held up his hands, remaining silent until they finally calmed down. “Thank you, everyone, thank you for coming. I’m going to make a brief statement, and I won’t be taking any questions. Interrupt me, and my statement ends. Understood?”

  Dozens of microphones and cameras edged forward, but silence reigned.

  “Good. As you are aware, the recent revelation that the NSA itself was responsible for the leak of what I believe they are calling their ToolKit, is both shocking and outrageous. How our own government could be so irresponsible is beyond me, and I intend to take my concerns to the highest levels, I assure you. I will also be consulting with my lawyers to see what legal action might be possible against those responsible.

  “The question still remains as to who actually carried out the attack that murdered my daughter, my little angel, and now I must trust that the very government that is ultimately responsible for her death, will bring to justice those who took advantage of their incompetence.” His voice finally cracked, and he held up his hand, holding off the horde while he regained his composure. He drew a deep breath, staring at the crowd, his eyes glistening as he pictured his daughter’s body, lying on a slab in a cold morgue, all the joy she had brought to the world forever gone. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  They have to pay.

  An ember sparked inside, kindling a rage that slowly built, giving him the strength to finally continue. He opened his eyes, glaring at the cameras. “Unfortunately, I have very little faith in our government’s ability, or willingness, to bring these people to justice. Just look at their track record. Why is it, when something is done using a computer, people assume there are no victims? Why do we have an entire generation that believes it is morally acceptable to steal digital content? Does that content not have value? If you wouldn’t go to Best Buy and steal a DVD, then why is it okay to steal a digital copy? Why is it okay to pirate movies, music, software, or books? They still have value, despite being digital ones and zeroes stored on the Internet somewhere. Someone still worked hard to create those, spent money to produce the end product. Why do so many people feel it is their right to take that for free? Why do so many people think that if you charge more than they think it’s worth, then they should be able to steal it? If you think the car you want is overpriced, would you just steal it off the lot? Of course not, because that’s a physical product, and copying or streaming a digital product from the Internet isn’t, and for some reason, our society has decided that isn’t a crime, at least not one worth punishing.”

  He stared at the confused reporters, deciding he had better make his point, and focus his anger where it truly needed to be. “Now take our government. We are constantly being hacked by countries like China, Russia, North Korea, among others, yet what is done? These hacks cost our economies millions if not billions, put our citizens at risk, yet what does our government do? They sometimes retaliate through our own cyberattacks, but carefully make sure we don’t cross any lines that might actually harm someone.

  “And that’s only when we know for certain who did it. Too often, these countries hire out the work so it can’t be traced back to them. We often know who these perpetrators are, but they’re safely ensconced in countries where we can’t touch them, and we know damned well who’s financing them. We don’t go after them because nothing physical happened, just digital. And that’s just as wrong as stealing digital content.”

  Temple stared at the reporters, then glanced over his shoulder at Davis, whose eyes widened slightly as she recognized the expression on his face. She knew he was about to crack.

  She knows me better than I know myself.

  “In the past, when our country was attacked with bombs and guns, we mobilized and defeated our enemies. But today, when we are attacked through computers, we do nothing. It’s time for that to end. And I don’t just mean government sponsored hacking. This entire concept that digital crimes are victimless crimes is nonsense, and our society has to change its views on this. If the governments meant to protect us won’t defend us from these criminals, these terrorists, then it’s time we defend ourselves. I say it’s time for an eye for an eye. I say it’s time these hackers are tracked down and captured, and if the government won’t imprison them, then they should be summarily executed.”

  A round of gasps erupted.

  “Perhaps if some vigilante justice takes place, these hackers, sitting in their parent’s basement, or in some state-sponsored office, will think twice before they actually launch their next attack. I say we kill them, and end this problem, once and for all. It’s time for our society to seek retribution against those who seek to destroy it with impunity!”

  He turned away from the cameras
, his fists clenched, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain control. Davis led him toward the revolving doors as the reporters surged forward, dozens of questions screamed at him. He stepped through and strode toward his elevator, Davis silently at his side. He stepped on, Davis pressing the button to take them to the top floor. The door closed.

  Davis turned to him. “Are you insane?”

  He glared at her. “Absolutely!”

  “You could go to jail for this.”

  He shrugged as he pulled in huge lungsful of air, the rage almost blinding. “I don’t care. No other father should have to go through what I’m going through, because anonymous people behind keyboards feel they can operate with impunity.” He glanced down at her. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it will take more than a few dozen deaths before we see a real change.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “Are you okay? I’m being serious. Are you feeling okay?”

  He drew in a quick breath as the doors opened and he stepped out, staff huddled in groups, breaking apart, avoiding eye contact. Temple entered his office, walking over to the windows, his hands on his hips as he stared out at the city below, the view calming.

  “I’ve never been better. I know what I have to do now.”

  27

  Penn Residence

  Albany, New York

  Donald Penn stared at the television then his laptop, his attention split between the two devices streaming him different details on the top story across the nation, and around the world. Whoever had leaked the facts of what had happened two years ago, had too many details. It had to be somebody well connected.

  It had to be his former employer.

  Someone on the inside had leaked it. It was too accurate. The news channels had his name and Graf’s, as well as Hummel’s. They had every detail as if they had read the mission debriefs. He had left Maryland to get away from all that, to start a new life, and now it was all about to fall apart.

  His wife entered the room, holding the baby. Her smile disappeared as soon as she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He snapped the laptop shut and turned off the TV. “I need you to take the baby and go to your mother’s.”

  Grace’s eyes widened then she batted a hand at him. “Are you kidding me? I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow with my biggest client, lunch with Jill, then a doctor’s appointment. Besides, you know how Mom hates being dropped in on.”

  Penn rose and approached her, taking hold of her shoulders as he stared into her eyes, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. “Do you remember two years ago when I told you that we might need to pick up and leave at any given moment because of something that happened while I was at the agency?”

  Grace’s face clouded over, her eyes widening with fear as she paled. “Yes.”

  “Well, this is that time.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she held their son a little closer. “Are we in danger?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. He opened them, rubbing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped.

  “Yes.”

  28

  Outside Penn Residence

  Albany, New York

  Kane pulled up in his government issued SUV and parked about half a block down from where Special Agent Graf held vigil. He surveyed the neighborhood through his tinted windows, searching for anything out of the ordinary besides Graf’s vehicle, but saw nothing.

  He dialed Leroux. “Got anything for me?”

  “Just that the NSA is sending a team to pick up Penn. They’re less than thirty minutes out.”

  Kane pursed his lips, staring at the home of his suspect. “Any movement from Graf?”

  “Negative. She’s stayed put, but she had a conversation with someone at Fort Meade. She was probably ordered to sit tight.”

  “Are locals involved?”

  “No. Not even the FBI field office has been notified, as far as I can tell. I think they’re trying to contain this.”

  “Well, they’re doing a bang-up job, if the radio’s any indication.”

  “Yeah, this story is everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if the press is on Penn’s doorstep before the NSA team arrives.”

  Kane frowned. That would be a distinctly bad thing, at least for what he had planned. “Okay, I’m going to have to act fast.” The porch light flicked on at the Penn residence. “Wait a minute. I’ve got activity. I’ll get back to you.”

  The garage door opened and Kane watched Penn and his wife rush out, Penn loading a baby into the back seat of their car, his wife tossing two large suitcases in the trunk. Hugs were exchanged, then she pulled out of the driveway, speeding off as her husband waved. Penn looked about, then went back inside, the lights flicking out as the garage door closed.

  He’s going to ground.

  Two SUVs turned onto the street, their headlights dimming as they pulled to the side and parked. Kane cursed and reached up, pressing the button to suppress the dome light. He opened the door and closed it quietly, dropping low as he crept along the opposite side of the street to the new arrivals. He reached Graf’s vehicle and tapped on the window.

  The woman nearly jumped out of her skin.

  She lowered the window, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving. “Sir, I’m going to have—”

  Kane held up his Homeland Security ID. “Special Agent Kane, Homeland.”

  Her eyes widened further. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I was going to pay a visit to your former partner, but I think we’ve got bigger problems.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Kane nodded toward the SUVs, eight doors opening. “When’s your team due to arrive?”

  “How do you—”

  “Just answer the question. We don’t have any time to waste.”

  “Not for at least another twenty minutes.”

  Kane sighed, drawing his weapon. “Then I think we have to assume these guys aren’t friendly.”

  Graf cursed, reaching for her phone. “I’ve got to call this in.”

  Kane shook his head. “No time.” He watched the team deploy, leaving little doubt this wasn’t some amateur hit squad inspired by Temple’s plea for vigilante justice. These were pros, probably sent by whoever had instructed Penn to steal the data in the first place.

  “Then what are we going to do?” asked Graf.

  “Our jobs.”

  Graf’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t propose to take out eight men alone, do you?”

  Kane laughed. “Of course not. You’re going to help.”

  He watched as the team deployed, four covering the front, four the back. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a suppressor, screwing it into the end of the barrel of his Glock. Graf’s eyes widened.

  “You’re not Homeland, are you?”

  “All you need to know is I’m on your side.” He repositioned two feet to the left, using the hood of the car and the front tires as cover. He rested his forearms on the front of the vehicle and took aim at the first target, positioned by a large oak tree at the front of the house.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  The man dropped, the suppressor doing its job, but only as good as a suppressor could be counted upon. As his targets looked to see where the sound had come from, he already had the next one in his sights, two men now on the porch. He fired then adjusted, firing again.

  Two more down, the fourth covering the front spinning and now opening fire with an assault rifle, randomly spraying the street as he raced back toward the SUVs. His magazine spent, Kane heard the man reload. Kane popped up and put two into his target as four weapons rounded the corners of the house, barrels blazing.

  Kane dropped back behind the tire as Graf cried out. He reached over and pulled open her door, the agent pouring out onto the sidewalk. He pushed her to the rear of the car. “Get behind the tire!”

  She scrambled for the limited cover as Kane listened, h
is expert ear blindly following the movements of their attackers. He raised his gun over the hood, aimed without looking, then fired the remaining rounds in an arc.

  Somebody cried out as Kane reloaded. He glanced over at Graf. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Then start shooting!”

  A steady stream of lead continued to shred the car, the tires on the opposite side flattened, the windows shattered. Kane lay prone on the ground, directly behind the tire as the gunmen continued forward, now less than ten feet away.

  He peered out from behind the tire and underneath the car. He could see a set of feet approaching when the muzzle flash of someone positioned in the middle of the road, prone like him, erupted. He jerked back behind the tire as the curb was torn apart where his head had been a moment before.

  These guys are good.

  If it hadn’t been for the element of surprise, he’d be dead now. But there were still three of them, with vastly superior firepower, and they seemed determined to kill him as opposed to escaping.

  This isn’t going to end well.

  Another gun entered the game, a pistol, probably a Beretta if Kane’s ringing ears were still to be trusted. One of the guns fell silent as he heard the thud of a body hitting the pavement, and the distinct pings of lead slamming into their car stopped, suggesting those that remained were refocusing their attention.

  He leaped to his feet, pumping two rounds into the backs of each of the men, then redirected his aim at the porch where Donald Penn stood, weapon in hand.

  “Homeland Security! Drop your weapon!”

  “Bullshit! Show me some ID!”

  Kane glanced at Graf. “He’s your partner, talk to him.”

  Graf gave him a look. “Ex-partner.” She rolled over onto her knees. “Don, it’s me, Janine!”