by Adam Hamdy
‘Do we have confirmation it’s him?’ Hector asked.
‘Local hostage negotiator is in contact,’ Parker replied. ‘He’s identified himself as Maximillian Byrne and given details of each of the murders, including the attacks on John Wallace. Alvarez is twenty-five minutes from the scene, but he’s reviewed surveillance footage from the community security system and says it’s our man.’
‘Anything on the hostage?’ Ash cut in.
‘Dan Alosi. Chief Technology Officer at Facebook. The house belongs to him,’ Parker replied.
‘Why would he start taking hostages?’ Ash mused.
‘He’s working on a list of demands, but he’s already said he wants you out there,’ Parker told Hector. ‘Wants the lead investigative agent. He asked for you by name, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Solomon. He also wants Christine Ash and John Wallace to go with you.’
‘So he can have another go?’ Ash protested. ‘You can’t do this, Hector.’
‘If we’ve got a chance of bringing him in, I’m gonna play it out,’ Hector replied firmly.
Ash scowled and shook her head. ‘Not by this guy’s rules,’ she advised.
‘You and Wallace won’t be coming with me,’ Hector assured her. ‘There’s no need to put a witness in harm’s way and you no longer have any official role in this investigation. I’m expecting your suspension order to come through this morning, and you will be relieved of active duty.’ He turned to Hale. ‘We’re going to need transportation. Make the arrangements,’ he said. ‘You and Nelson are coming with me. Parker, until we’ve got our own confirmation it’s Max Byrne, I want you here following up every lead. Tell Alvarez to hold point till we get there.’
Hector turned on his heels and marched purposefully through the office with Hale and Nelson trailing him as they struck up urgent phone conversations.
Ash turned to Parker. ‘This sucks,’ she observed.
Parker shrugged. ‘Sometimes we catch a break,’ he replied before backing away. It was clear he didn’t want anything to do with an agent whose career was almost certainly over.
Ash sighed with frustration. Max Byrne would only let himself get into a hostage situation if it furthered his twisted cause. Annoyed that she couldn’t read the play, she sloped back to her desk.
Wallace opened his eyes and took a moment to remember where he was. His limbs semaphored their painful signals and his ribs echoed the message. He and Ash had concealed the full extent of their injuries to avoid being separated, but Wallace had resolved to inform the US Marshals once he was in their custody. He felt utterly battered and wanted a doctor to ensure there wasn’t anything that needed surgical attention. He sat up and looked out of the little office to see that the clock read 08:06. Dozens of smartly dressed men and women worked beneath the oversized timepiece, answering phones and sorting through reported sightings of Max Byrne. Wallace glanced towards Ash’s desk and noticed that she was slumped over, asleep. He got to his feet and shuffled to the door, and when he opened it, the hubbub hit him; dozens of urgent conversations, commands and instructions. As he picked his way past the busy agents and staggered slowly towards her, Wallace wondered how Ash could sleep through it all.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly as he touched Ash on the shoulder. She stirred, and then sat up suddenly.
‘I think I was asleep.’ She rattled the words out so quickly that they ran into one another.
Wallace smiled; she was barely across the border that separated sleep from waking. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Like shit,’ Ash replied. ‘I could sleep for a week.’
‘What time am I being transferred?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Hector took off. Quite literally. He’s on a plane to San Francisco. Max Byrne has taken a hostage.’
‘Hostage?’ Wallace echoed, puzzled. ‘He doesn’t take hostages.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Ash responded.
‘Hey, Chris!’ a voice called out. Wallace turned to see a tired junior agent with a phone cradled against his ear. ‘This one’s for you. What’s your number?’
‘Three-two-three,’ Ash replied, picking up the phone as it started ringing. ‘Special Agent Ash.’
Bailey watched an impossibly chubby Airbus A380 float across the crisp blue sky.
‘Chris, it’s Pat Bailey,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on his desk. His stomach muscles railed at the movement, signalling their complaint with a sharp stab of pain that made Bailey grimace.
‘Bailey!’ Ash exclaimed brightly. ‘How the hell are you?’
‘Alive,’ he replied. ‘I’m on light duties for a couple of months.’
‘John Wallace is with me.’
‘Really?’ Bailey asked in disbelief. ‘Can you put me on speaker?’
‘We’re kind of in the middle of something, so it’s pretty loud here, but I’ll try.’
Bailey heard the acoustics change and the sound of a busy office filled his ear.
‘John?’ Bailey tried.
‘DS Bailey?’ Wallace’s words rose above the din.
‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ Bailey said honestly.
‘And yours. I thought you were . . .’ Wallace trailed off.
‘No danger,’ Bailey remarked. ‘I was really sorry to hear about Constance Jones,’ he added sympathetically.
‘Thanks,’ Wallace acknowledged quietly.
‘Chris, I tried to get hold of you before, but your mobile rings out and your office said you were unavailable,’ Bailey continued.
‘Wallace and I had to go off the grid,’ Ash explained.
‘I gathered. I’ve been following the news,’ Bailey replied. ‘Looks like this guy’s been racking up bodies.’
‘Yeah. Too many,’ Ash agreed. ‘The prime suspect is holed up in San Francisco. Hostage situation.’
‘Doesn’t fit his MO,’ Bailey commented. ‘Listen, I’d love to catch up and compare notes, but I’ve got something that needs to be checked out.’
‘Go ahead,’ Ash said.
‘This information is coming through official channels,’ Bailey said, looking round the busy open-plan office on the fourth floor of the Paddington Green tower. ‘But since I’m chained to a desk, and you’re the only Federal Agent I know, well, there’s nothing I can do but meddle. When Pendulum broke into Riley Cotton’s place he did something to the machines Cotton was running. This is way beyond my technical capabilities, but our cybercrime team analysed the machines. Cotton was a hacker, and it seems Pendulum saw some value in his network. He used the back doors Cotton had created to embed a dormant application on dozens of enterprise servers around the world: banks, corporate communications, government networks, that sort of thing. Our cyber guys say Riley Cotton was one of the best they’ve seen, and they kept his network running; it’s become a kind of training playground for them. They’ve figured out most of Cotton’s stuff, but the application Pendulum implanted is next level. They haven’t been able to crack it, so they’ve been monitoring the network for activity. The dormant application was triggered a little over fifteen minutes ago. It’s relaying data packets through a command chain that ends in the States.’
‘Where?’ Ash asked.
‘Our cyber guys say it’s coming from a Facebook data facility in Twin Lakes.’
‘Any idea what it’s doing?’ Ash asked.
‘Not a clue. At the moment it’s just running data,’ Bailey replied. ‘But according to the geeks on this side of the pond, combining Facebook with this back door network means the application is connected to almost two billion machines. Like I said, this information is coming through our official liaisons, but I wanted to make sure it hits the ground fast.’
‘Got it,’ Ash assured him. ‘Thanks.’
‘DS Bailey,’ Wallace began.
‘Call me Pat,’ Bailey interjected, sensing the awkwardness in Wallace’s voice.
‘Pat,’ Wallace continued. ‘I just wanted to say thank you. Withou
t Salamander’s help and Agent Ash’s protection, I wouldn’t have made it.’
‘When this is all over, you can buy me a beer,’ Bailey suggested.
‘We’d better get going,’ Ash advised.
‘I’m in the office if you need anything,’ Bailey offered.
‘Keep us posted,’ Ash suggested. ‘Ask for Agent Parker, he’ll know how to get hold of me.’
‘Good luck,’ Bailey replied.
‘Thanks. We’ll talk soon,’ Ash said, hanging up. ‘Help me grab this stuff,’ she told Wallace, indicating the Pendulum files on her desk.
She and Wallace gathered the folders and set off towards Parker, who was on the phone. He gave Ash an incredulous look when she took his phone and cut him off.
‘What the—’ Parker began.
‘We caught a break,’ Ash interrupted. ‘A British cop I know just called with information that Pendulum is running an illicit computer program from a data centre in Wisconsin.’
Parker looked blank. ‘So?’ he asked.
‘You remember what Pendulum said when we were on the roof?’ Wallace asked Ash. ‘He said it was a test. I thought he meant a test of your courage or loyalty or something like that, but what if it was literally a test of the technology? What if he was testing a virus?’
Ash’s eyes widened as she understood the significance of Wallace’s words. ‘Call Hector,’ she instructed Parker. ‘Tell him I need a Bureau jet gassed and ready to fly. And I’m gonna need a police escort to the airport.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Parker told her.
Ash squared up to him and put her face within millimetres of his. ‘Look down,’ she advised.
Parker slowly lowered his eyes to see a pistol in Ash’s hand, the barrel pressed against his gut. Ash signalled him not to draw any attention to the situation.
‘My gun,’ he said weakly. ‘How’d you—’
‘My career is over,’ Ash interrupted. ‘So I can take any heat I need to. You might as well use that to your advantage,’ she counselled. ‘You’ve got one dead Facebook executive and another held hostage. We’ve got a back door network running from one of their data centres. And a killer who has developed a virus that destroys every machine in its path. Any of this starting to worry you?’
‘No, that’s impossible,’ Parker shook his head incredulously. ‘You’re talking about billions of systems.’
‘All connected,’ Ash pointed out. ‘People have been trying to do this for years. You know what the Foundation did to First Atlantic and Square Pillar. You think someone like Max Byrne couldn’t figure out a way to replicate it on a larger scale?’
‘Maybe,’ Parker conceded.
‘We’re gonna need a police escort to La Guardia,’ Ash reiterated. ‘And I’ll need a phone,’ she said as she took Parker’s.
‘Hey!’ he objected.
‘Thanks. You’re a real sport.’ Ash smiled at Parker, before turning to Wallace. ‘You coming?’
Wallace nodded and followed her across the room. He had no intention of straying too far from this formidable woman.
‘My gun?’ Parker called after them.
‘I’m gonna need that too,’ Ash shouted back.
Wallace glanced behind him and saw Parker borrow a phone from a nearby agent. ‘How do you know he isn’t going to report you?’ he asked.
‘Parker might be a butt kisser, but he’s smart,’ Ash replied. ‘He knows that if I’m right he can ride some of the glory, and if I’m wrong he can say I threatened him with a gun and feed me to the wolves.’
‘Did you really think you could requisition a Bureau jet? You’re suspended.’ Hector’s stern voice was clear above a steady hum of engine noise. He was en route to California, probably somewhere over the Mid-West.
‘This hostage situation is bullshit, Hector. There’s a much bigger play,’ Ash countered, leaning against the steps of a Citation CE-750, which had been gassed and prepped at Parker’s request. Despite the rush-hour traffic, the NYPD escort had got them from Police Plaza to La Guardia in a shade under thirty minutes.
‘What do you think I’m gonna do here?’ Hector asked.
‘I think you’re gonna cut me some slack,’ Ash replied. ‘Because you know my instincts are good. I gave you Max Byrne, Hector. You wouldn’t even be on your way to California if it wasn’t for me.’
Hector fell silent.
‘You can’t afford to run the risk that I’m right,’ Ash added. ‘Because if I am . . .’ she left the consequences hanging.
‘OK,’ Hector said finally. ‘But you keep me informed every step of the way, you hear?’
‘I hear,’ Ash responded reassuringly.
‘Give me a couple of minutes to make the call,’ Hector advised before he hung up.
Ash turned to Wallace, who shuffled on the runway and rubbed his hands together in an attempt to keep warm. ‘We’re good,’ she told him.
‘You’re unbelievable,’ Wallace said honestly. ‘I’ve never known anyone so good at getting her own way.’
Ash felt a pang of shame. She smiled uncomfortably at Wallace, who was oblivious to the fact that his words were double-edged; just as much insult as compliment. Ash’s father had left her many terrible legacies, including his ability to read and manipulate people. It was second nature to her, but whenever she paused to reflect on how easily she was able to exploit people, she felt the stigma that was attached to everything about her father.
‘Hey, Agent Ash,’ a voice called out behind her, and she turned to see Buck Southwell, a Bureau pilot, lean out of the cabin. ‘You’ve been cleared.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Storm’s closed Twin Lakes, so we’re gonna have to go to Kenosha,’ Southwell added.
Ash nodded, but as she started up the steps, Parker’s phone rang, so she paused to answer it. ‘Ash,’ she said.
‘It’s Parker. I’ve called the data centre. On-site security says there’s no unusual activity. The storm means they’re running a skeleton crew, but nothing’s going on out there.’
‘OK, thanks,’ Ash acknowledged, somewhat deflated.
‘You want me to send in local PD?’ Parker asked.
‘No. I don’t want to tip Pendulum that we’re wise to what he’s doing,’ Ash said. ‘Tell them to set up a command station somewhere nearby, but have them do it quietly.’
‘OK,’ Parker replied. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’
Ash hung up. ‘Let’s go,’ she told Wallace, who followed her aboard the jet. Ash pulled up the gang steps that were built into the door, sealed the cabin and took her seat as the aircraft’s twin engines started turning.
54
The Gulfstream V touched down at 8:37 a.m. Pacific Time and taxied to a vacant stand in the northernmost reaches of San Francisco International, near the huge Flight Support Building. Hector, Nelson and Hale disembarked and hurried towards a waiting convoy of vehicles: two grey Ford Expeditions, two San Francisco PD black and whites and three California Highway Patrol Harley Davidson Electra Glides. An earnest, athletic man in a black suit stepped forward and extended his hand.
‘Agent Solomon,’ he said. ‘I’m Special Agent Casey Sommers. Assistant SAIC Dillon has asked me to get you to the scene. SSA Alvarez is already on site.’
‘Good to meet you, Agent Sommers,’ Hector replied. ‘This is Agent Hale and Agent Nelson.’
Sommers shook hands with Hale and Nelson before ushering them towards the waiting vehicles. ‘Your team can ride in the follow vehicle,’ he suggested to Hector.
Hale and Nelson climbed into the rear Expedition, while Sommers and Hector boarded the lead SUV. Moments later, the convoy rolled out of the airfield along the Northern Access Road which skirted San Francisco Bay. Two of the CHP bikes sped ahead, sirens blaring, to clear a path through the rush-hour traffic.
‘We had any more contact?’ Hector asked Sommers, as the driver swung the speeding vehicle on to the 380.
‘No, sir,’ Sommers replied with a shake of his head.
‘Negotiator has tried, but the suspect is refusing any further comms until you’re at the scene.’
‘What kind of support do we have up there?’
‘Full tactical unit,’ Sommers answered. ‘Plus SWAT. Agent Dillon wants to talk you through the options himself.’
Hector nodded, and grabbed the handhold to steady himself as the Expedition swerved around a slow-moving semi.
‘Sorry about that, folks,’ the driver said, glancing in the rear-view.
‘You only need to apologise if you hit something,’ Hector advised with a smile.
‘Ain’t gonna happen,’ the driver shot back confidently as he pushed the Ford along the highway.
The convoy cut on to the 280 and sped along the path cleared by the Highway Patrol outriders. Hector looked out over the Crystal Springs Reservoir, its surface glittering under the golden sun. He questioned the wisdom of giving Ash another chance, but knew that if she did nothing the Bureau would almost certainly hang her out to dry. Hitting a home run was her only hope of redemption, and there was no way she could do that chained up in Police Plaza. The qualities that had led to her demotion and the current disciplinary investigation were the very traits that had enabled her to break this case. Without her determination and willingness to risk everything, there was no way they would have figured out that the man in the Cromwell Center wasn’t really Max Byrne, and the perpetrator of the so-called Pendulum killings might never have been identified. The pressure she’d put on Max Byrne had forced him to change MO, and, instead of killing Dan Alosi, he was now trying to use him as leverage. Ash had at least one saved life to her name.
Fifteen minutes later, the convoy turned off the 280 and wound its way up Alpine Road. Thick banks of trees lined either side, some deciduous, their bare branches casting sharp shadows, others, like the interspersed redwoods, evergreen and heavy with spiny needles. Hector spied houses hidden behind the trees and, as they climbed the hill, the estates became more expansive and the homes increasingly secluded. The convoy turned on to Westridge Road for a short run, before making a left on to Cresta Via, where a security guard waved them past a gatehouse. The Expedition slowed after about half a mile and, when they rounded the next bend, Hector saw why. A fleet of local news trucks lined one side of the street, and a small crowd of residents mingled with reporters eager to relay speculative interviews back to their anchors. The CHP outriders peeled off and the Expedition carried on. The driver sounded his horn and the crowd parted to reveal a line of uniformed San Francisco police officers who stood behind temporary barriers and maintained the integrity of the scene. A couple of officers pulled one of the barriers aside to allow the two Fords through.
