Rigged

by James Rosone

  “How?” Grey asked, mouth slightly agape.

  “The best we can come up with is that these men and women were provided with fake fingerprints to place over their own, ones that were electronically paired to their passports.”

  Leah reached into her pocket and pulled out a small case. “These,” she said, holding up what looked like a small piece of tape, “are fake fingerprints. We use them on some of our own agents when they’re entering a country that uses biometrics at their entry control points and we need to slip past them. Prior to approaching the customs agent, you pull this side of the adhesive off and then place it over your own fingerprints. You then pull the other end of the tape off and for the next hour or so, you have a different person’s fingerprints. It’s pretty high-tech stuff.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, NSA Grey asked, “Who could provide this kind of stuff? I mean, is this readily available or easy to fabricate? I didn’t even know they really made crap like this. I thought that was just James Bond movie material.”

  Leah snickered. “It’s spy craft, Mr. Grey. Believe me, there’s a lot more where that stuff came from. But as to how these particular individuals got this? Well, they could have bought it on the black market. It’s not cheap, but it can be acquired. However, the fact that the real biometrics of these passports and these fingerprints match actual German citizens, particularly those of people in the German criminal system—the individuals were sitting in jail, not able to travel and therefore cause questions—it’s highly likely they were provided by the BND.”

  “German intelligence? To what end? Why would the BND have ties to these individuals?” Grey asked.

  Tony chimed in. “We don’t have definitive proof the BND is involved just yet. We’ll know more in another day or so, once we’ve had time to crunch through their secure communications, text messages and other electronic communications.”

  “Wow, OK. So what else have you found on these individuals? Do we have a way of tracking them or know where they are?”

  “We took the images that were captured by customs and ran them against the facial recognition databases from the CIA, the DoD, and the NSA. We were then able to ascertain their real names. Taking that data, plus all known aliases for these individuals and the names that were used on the passports, we combed through any mention of these names on social media, email, chat boards or phone calls. As of thirty minutes ago, we’ve managed to locate all six of them,” Tony explained. He puffed his chest out a bit, clearly proud of his people’s effort.

  Robert was visibly excited. “You found them? Where are they? Do we know anything else about them or what they’re doing?” he asked rapidly.

  Tony held up his hand. “Hold up, Mr. Grey. Yes, we believe we’ve managed to find them, but we still haven’t fully determined they are in fact the terrorists we’re looking for. All we know right now is that they entered the US using spoofed passports. They could legitimately be German BND agents, infiltrating the US under nonofficial cover. We do that to Germany and many other nations all the time—it doesn’t mean either side is about to commit a terrorist act. Until we can get physical eyes on them, I’m hesitant to say these are the men and women we’re looking for.”

  “Do they all have a nexus to the Balkans?” asked Grey.

  “They do. We verified the facial images against multiple different law enforcement and passport control interactions in Europe.”

  “OK. Why don’t you walk me through a few of the contacts, and let’s try to see if we can make the connection then,” said Grey. “Also, I want you to forward the information you have on to the FBI immediately, so they can work to get eyes on them for you. This is way too hot to sit on right now.”

  Tony looked uncomfortable with the request but nodded toward Leah. He then picked up a secured phone on the table and placed a quick call to someone.

  “Yeah, this is Tony,” Grey overheard. “I need you to send that data we talked about over the FBI liaison rep for them to action.” There was a brief pause as the person on the other end acknowledged the orders, and then Tony hung up the phone.

  Leah then picked up the conversation. She pointed to a picture of one of the women from the group. “OK, this picture was taken at the customs station in Newark five days ago,” she began. “Here’s another picture of her passing through customs in Ankara, Turkey, three years ago. This is her at customs in Geneva, Switzerland, and again in Frankfurt, Germany. Our facial recognition software matched the image taken in Newark to all of these images. However, the passport said she was this person,” Leah explained, pointing to the image of a similar-looking woman. “This woman, however, is serving a three-year prison sentence in Leipzig for bank fraud.”

  The three of them talked for another twenty minutes as Leah pointed out the other biometric matches to other passport control pictures taken from a few different countries. While they couldn’t find any definitive links that tied the six individuals directly to ISIS or any other Islamic extremist organization, they were able to determine that they had all traveled to Turkey during the height of ISIS power and appeared to have stayed in the region for more than a year.

  “I’m not sure we’ll find a direct connection to ISIS, but once we’re able to obtain their true biometrics, we may get lucky and find something in the DoD’s biometric database,” Leah explained. “Right now, all we have is facial images—what we need is fingerprints or DNA. We might get lucky and find a match to one of their fingerprints on some captured enemy material, weapons or remnants of an IED.”

  Nodding, Grey said, “I’ll see if the FBI can surreptitiously collect their prints, but then again, if these attacks are supposed to happen this evening, we may not have time to do that.”

  NSA Grey did some calculations in his head. “All right, while the FBI is running these six individuals down, I want you guys to keep looking for anyone else that might fit this profile. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find another needle in the haystack that fits our profile. We still need to find the election day attackers. We know that groups involved in that attack are supposedly tied to the Islamic State in Serbia. I’m going to make an educated guess that those attackers, like the Bosnian and Kosovar group, are probably from Serbia. So, let’s see if we can get a bead on them. We have three days until that attack is scheduled. Even if the election does get postponed, we have no guarantee the attacks won’t happen.”

  “Agreed. We’ll start working on that immediately,” said Tony as he stood up, apparently realizing the meeting was coming to a close. Leah followed his lead. “Hey, on a side note,” he said as if suddenly remembering something, “what the heck happened on that raid in Serbia? I heard we lost seven operators from SEAL Team Six on that botched raid, along with two helicopters.”

  Grey sighed and shook his head. “We’re still trying to piece that together. The Agency believes someone in the MUP, the Serbian Ministry of Internal Affairs, tipped them off on the raid. I’m actually more concerned with finding out who provided the MANPAD to them that brought down our gunship. God help us if they have access to more of them or managed to smuggle them into the US.”

  They talked for a few minutes as NSA Grey walked with Tony and Leah down to the helipad. A helicopter from Andrews Air Force Base had flown in to pick Grey up and ferry him back to the White House. Time was too short on this critical day for him to be jammed up in traffic. He needed to get back to the White House Situation Room so he could better coordinate the government’s response.

  *******

  Jacksonville, North Carolina

  Special Agents Scott Spellman and Amelia Riley had just pulled up to the parking lot in front of the mall entrance near Sears. Looking down the row of parked cars, they spotted the blue Toyota Corolla they had been following for the last hour.

  *******

  What had started as a weekend on edge had turned into something far worse. They knew there was an elevated alert about a possible terrorist attack leading up to the election, but they’d had no
idea when they’d been called into work that morning that their city was one of the chosen targets. When they’d received a flash warning from headquarters and the NSA about a possible suicide bomber in Jacksonville, they’d thought it was a mistake. However, when the NSA began to provide them real-time GPS data of where the person was, they knew it wasn’t a blunder.

  At 3 p.m. they’d received their first tracking data, and they’d hopped in their car to head toward the coordinates they’d been given. They’d quickly realized that their suspected attacker was on the move, so they had made best speed to find the car and get eyes on their suspect. What they’d found was a nondescript blue Toyota Corolla, driving casually down the streets of downtown Jacksonville like any other person.

  After ten minutes, the car had parked near a local mosque. Agents Spellman and Riley watched their mark go inside. He stayed there for roughly an hour before returning to his vehicle. When he eventually walked out, they used the telescopic lens on their camera to grab several pictures of the man before he entered his car, and quickly sent the images back to their office.

  The potential bomber appeared to be a male of European descent, late twenties to early thirties. They continued to follow the driver, who appeared to be heading toward the mall. Then they received a message from their office on the radio.

  “An HRT team is en route to intercept the driver,” their supervisor told them. “Keep an eye on him until they arrive and continue to relay his movements. Local law enforcement is also being alerted and will be sending help to you.”

  When the transmission had ended, Agent Riley remarked, “Geez, this is the real deal if the hostage rescue team is getting involved.”

  When the Corolla pulled into the mall, Agent Spellman nervously tapped on the steering wheel. “Riley, I’d rather not deal with a presumed terrorist on our own, but if this is going down now, we have to do something,” he said.

  As they got out of the car, Agent Riley called their office to let them know what was going on, and they walked quickly to intercept the man.

  In the distance, they could hear the police sirens getting closer.

  As the man got closer to the entrance of Sears, Agent Spellman took off running, and Agent Riley moved swiftly to catch up. The suspect reached for the door.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Spellman shouted. “Do you have the time?”

  The man turned around just in time to see two people running toward him, guns drawn, and the lights of several police cars flashing nearby. His eyes grew wide.

  The suspect reached for a device that had been dangling from the inside of the right sleeve of his coat, but Spellman and Riley immediately fired their sidearms, hitting the suspect multiple times in the chest. His body slumped against the entrance and slid down, lifeless.

  Rushing toward him, Scott shouted, “Run inside and tell everyone to get away from the entrance!” He then moved toward the man lying on the ground with a growing puddle of blood expanding around him.

  Reaching down to check the man’s pulse, Scott confirmed he was dead. Just then, several police officers ran up as well.

  “Stand back!” he ordered. “I need to check his jacket.”

  The officers all looked at each other with concern and fear, then gradually retreated a few dozen feet.

  Scott took a moment, gently unzipping the man’s jacket. As he did, his eyes grew wide as saucers as he saw what he had feared most—a suicide vest.

  How in the hell did we not set this thing off when we shot him? he wondered, a huge lump forming in his throat as he thought about how close to death he’d just been.

  Scott backed away from the man’s body.

  “You need to move further back!” he shouted to the police. “We need to set up a cordon several hundred feet around the body, just in case they have a way to set off the vest by remote control.”

  He then quickly fumbled with his smartphone, adrenaline coursing through his body at the near-death experience, causing his hands to shake a bit. He called in what had happened and requested a bomb squad to deal with the suicide vest.

  *******

  With confirmation that this man was, in fact, one of the terrorist bombers, the FBI ordered the remaining five individuals to be quickly apprehended before they could carry out their own attacks. In four other states, FBI agents moved in to intercept the terrorists before they could detonate their suicide vests.

  Sadly, three FBI agents and several local law enforcement officers were killed when one of the bombers was able to trigger his vest before being killed in a shoot-out. However, aside from the three agents and handful of police officers who died that day, there were no other casualties. What could have turned into a horrific massacre was prevented.

  *******

  Vinton, Louisiana

  Interstate 10

  Dusty Hampton had just completed a ten-hour drive across most of Texas in his eighteen-wheeler on his way to Tallahassee, Florida, when he decided it was time to call it quits for the day and grab himself some dinner and a beer. Spotting the perfect little watering hole, he pulled into the truck lot at the Longhorn Truck and Car Plaza and found a spot next to a couple of other big rigs. Dusty pulled the yellow button to engage the parking brake, locked the door and then made his way into the diner to grab some food and a cold one before he turned in for the night.

  He found a table with a seat facing one of the several TVs mounted on the walls and plopped himself down. The waitress came by and brought him a glass of water and a menu.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Do you have Miller Lite on tap?”

  “Yep, sure do,” she replied.

  “Perfect. I’ll take one of those while I figure out what I want to eat,” Dusty said.

  “Sounds good,” she said, rushing off to grab his beer.

  About the time that the waitress came back, he’d figured out what he wanted to eat.

  “So, what can I get for you, darlin’?” the waitress asked with a wink as she slid the Miller Lite over to him.

  He smiled at the woman, reading her name tag for the first time. Sarah Jo, he thought, a charming southern name if I’ve ever seen one.

  “I’d like the Billy’s Longhorn ribeye with a baked potato and the seasoned rice,” he responded.

  “How’d you like your steak cooked?”

  “Medium rare, please.”

  She scribbled down his request. “Sure thing, honey. Give me twenty minutes or so and it’ll be up.” Then she walked off, leaving Dusty to start polishing off his first beer while he watched a rerun of Duck Dynasty.

  When he’d finished his drink, he flagged Sarah Jo down and asked for another. Just as his second beer arrived, a newscaster came on, interrupting the show. One of the old-timers, who looked to be a regular, flagged one of the waitresses down to ask her to turn the TV up.

  “The White House has asked for all the networks to broadcast a special message from the President. We’re standing by for just a moment as we wait for the President to come on—oh, as we speak, it looks like he’s just about to start.”

  The camera moved from the broadcaster to an image of the President, resolutely sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office. Dusty immediately noticed that Sachs looked exhausted; his eyes had noticeable bags underneath them.

  “My fellow Americans,” the President began, “I come to you tonight with grave news that I feel you, the American people, need to know. As most of you are starting to find out, today the brave men and women of the FBI and Homeland Security intercepted six individuals wearing suicide vests just prior to them carrying out their dastardly attacks against our nation. Unfortunately, three FBI agents and five local police officers were killed when one of the would-be terrorists detonated his suicide vest during a shoot-out with police at a mall in Manchester, New Hampshire. The other five suicide bombers were either killed or apprehended without further loss of life. These terrorists were attempting to carry out a coordinated attack specifically targeted at our children.”

/>   The President looked visibly shaken as he explained the threat.

  “These six suicide bombers were also tied to the terrorist group Islamic State in Kosovo that carried out the October 24th attack against four early voting centers. Even now, our brave armed forces are attacking these terrorists’ safe havens across Kosovo in coordination with our Kosovar partners. I am proud to report that our military has successfully captured the leader of this organization, Luan Rexhepi, who will be held accountable for his crimes in a court of law.”

  The President paused for a moment. “The six suicide bombers that were going to carry out their attack today were part of the Islamic State in Bosnia, a partner of the Kosovo group. Unfortunately, we have credible intelligence that says a third group, the Islamic State in Serbia, is planning to carry out a similar type of terrorist attack against our country this Tuesday, on election day. We are not sure when these attacks are planned or what specific locations have been targeted. What we do know is that the terrorists plan to carry out attacks in Florida, Ohio, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Texas. I assure you that our intelligence agencies and law enforcement are working diligently to track these individuals down and stop them.”

  Lifting his chin up, the President leaned forward, looking directly into the camera with renewed energy in his eyes.

  “In the last three weeks, the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security have not only uncovered these terrorist plans to attack our nation, they have also discovered a much grander plot to interfere with our election. The Treasury Department, along with our intelligence agencies, has identified several banks in Europe as the financial institutions that funded and supported not only these dastardly terrorist attacks against our country, but a wider, grander scheme to steal our election. Yesterday, the FBI arrested thirty-six US postal workers who were caught stealing and then selling absentee and mail-in ballots to a third party.