Glidepath

by Andrew Watts

  “Typing on his phone?”

  “Yes. In the after-action report, the DIA showed me an intercept from their phone records. The guy had sent a message to someone. We never found out who, but I assume it was his boss.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It said something about me being an American agent.”

  “And then you killed them?” Renee said.

  “Well, I tried to work it out peacefully, but they left me no choice.”

  “And so that’s how your cover was blown? You stood up to them when they attacked the French girl? And from that, they knew you were an agent?”

  “It seemed like they were testing me. I think they wanted to see what kind of things I would let slide. Hell of a litmus test.”

  Renee shook her head. “You think Morozov sent those two?”

  “Why? That was a year ago. Why send them to blow my cover back then, and then kill Sergei only a few weeks ago?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s still something missing here.”

  Max stood. “Well, you keep digging. That’s what I’m paying you for. In the meantime, I’ve got a hot date with an MI-6 agent. Maybe she’ll be able to help.”

  Max threw on a navy-blue polo shirt and khaki shorts and began walking down Duval Street. He stayed on the side streets mostly, trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

  The sun was low in the sky, and the Key West shops were lit up with bright lights. The surface of the road was wet from a recent rain. Lush green trees overhung many of the stores and restaurants. Happy tourists, many of them liquored up from their rum-based drinks, walked along the street. Live music blared out of many of the bars.

  Max walked down the full length of Duval Street and finally arrived at a waterfront bar and restaurant with outdoor seating. Orange barstools. A mix of patrons wearing bathing suits and floral shirts. Street entertainers in the courtyard, one playing guitar quite well. Two others walked along on stilts, juggling. Max found himself thinking this would be a fun place to retire to.

  He sat down at a table in the corner, out of view of most people. He had a few minutes to kill before the meeting time.

  “What’ll you have?”

  Max looked up to see a skinny waitress holding a pen and paper.

  “Hmm.” He searched the table for a drink menu. “To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to look at—”

  “He’ll have a mojito. So will I.”

  A tanned woman stood over him. She wore Ray-Ban sunglasses and a tube top covered with tropical flowers.

  “I guess I will,” Max told the waitress, who went off to fetch their drinks. He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Max.”

  She shook his hand. “Don’t be silly, dear. We know each other.” Wide smile as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  She sat down, crossing her legs. Max noticed that her tight black skirt revealed quite a lot of skin. He decided he didn’t mind that one bit.

  “Of course we do. Remind me of your name?”

  “Charlotte Capri.” She had an accent. British, he thought. So far so good.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Capri.”

  She didn’t reply. Just kept giving him that bright smile. He disliked not being able to see her eyes behind the sunglasses. Max found her rather striking. Full lips. Smooth and tanned skin.

  The drinks came quick. Tall glasses. Crushed ice and mint. Limes, rum and sugar. Hard to beat. Max took a sip and found it deliciously refreshing.

  Max held up his glass and toasted with his guest. “So I take it I don’t need to meet you at our location anymore? Where was it again?” He wanted to hear her say it.

  She said, “The southernmost point? No. This will be fine.”

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “Actually, I think it is I who might be able to do something for you.”

  “And what might that be?”

  She leaned forward in her seat, pulling down the sunglasses, and Max saw that her eyes were not playful and flirtatious the way her voice sounded.

  She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I know about the cyber intrusion on your father’s company—the one that the FBI has been investigating. Someone hacked into the Fend 100 program. And they’re going to do it again.”

  Max put his drink down.

  “What do you mean, they’re going to do it again?”

  “We need to go somewhere more private. Somewhere we can talk. We’re too out in the open here.”

  Max fought the urge to look around. Tourists were everywhere, enjoying the ocean view. The pink-and-orange sky—the perfect sunset of Key West—mesmerized most of the crowd.

  “Alright. Let’s go.” Max stood, took another sip of his mojito and then signaled the waitress to come get the check.

  She took his hand. “Come on, follow me.”

  They walked through the crowded street and then stepped into a dive bar. A man onstage wearing a cowboy hat played guitar and sang into a silver microphone. The woman kept gripping Max’s hand as they weaved through the throngs of dancers.

  They stopped in the corner of the bar. It was so loud he could barely hear her. But she pressed in close to him, speaking into his ear. “We’ll just stay here and pretend we’re dancing. The noise will make it impossible for any listening devices to work. I can’t be completely sure that one of us wasn’t followed. So we need to take precautions.”

  The crowd around them screamed as the guitar player switched to his next 1980s rock ballad.

  Charlotte Capri swayed to the music, playing the part. “I know who you are, Max Fend,” she said. “And I know who you’ve worked for in the past.” She brought her head back a bit, locking eyes with him.

  “Alright,” he said. “So who are you really? And how do you know about the cyberattack on my father’s company?”

  “You can call me Charlotte, just like I told you. I suspect you already know who I work for.” She gazed into his eyes.

  “For queen and country?”

  “Indeed.”

  “They have me working for a Russian businessman right now. His name is Pavel Morozov. Have you heard of him?”

  “I have. So what are you doing for Morozov? What’s your cover?”

  “I’m an executive assistant.” She smiled.

  “Like a secretary?”

  “Sort of, yes. He’s on a working vacation. Morozov sent his yacht so he could stay on board while he was here. He’s going to do a month-long tour of Florida and the Caribbean, meeting with investors and business partners along the way. I’m helping to manage things for him.”

  “What does he have to do with my father’s company?”

  “A few months ago, a member of the Russian mafia named Sergei began fishing for a buyer. He was selling access to Fend Aerospace’s corporate data center. Word on the street is that you knew Sergei.”

  “We were professional acquaintances.”

  “Morozov got word of this plan. But he knew that Sergei had worked with the Americans before, and he didn’t trust him as a partner.”

  “Morozov was right. Sergei would have sold him out if it suited him. So Morozov stole Sergei’s idea?”

  “More or less. Morozov went and commissioned his own hackers. Their objective was to steal the most valuable technology your father’s company owns—the artificial intelligence software for the Fend 100 aircraft.”

  “I’m told that they failed.”

  “That’s right. They were able to steal some of the aircraft blueprints but couldn’t get into the hardened servers located in the Fend 100 control center—the ones that housed the AI program.”

  “You said that they were going to try again. What’s changed? Why would it work the second time around?”

  She looked worried. “There’s a vulnerability window. When the Fend 100 is flying, it uses an encrypted datalink that sends information back and forth between it and the Fend 100 control center. This sort of opens up the firewalls for the Fend 100. We think tha
t the first cyberattack planted a virus that will allow Morozov’s hackers to take advantage of this vulnerability window.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. We’re still trying to find out. But the point is that there will likely be another attempt to steal the Fend 100 AI data—during the big demonstration flight they’re having in a few days.”

  “Why is MI-6 so interested in this?”

  She shrugged. “Morozov is wrapped up in a lot of bad things. This is just one of them. It’s possible that he intends to do the same thing as Sergei—sell the information or hold it for ransom. That’s standard operating procedure for these cybercriminals. But there is a darker scenario—there are many people who are very concerned about what one would be able to do with the technology.”

  “What does that mean? What could he use it for?”

  “Your father’s company has big defense contracts for drones. The AI software he’s developed doesn’t just have commercial implications. Imagine how AI learning machines could improve the effectiveness of combat drones. The AI software could turn them into a robot air force, thinking and learning on their own—dominating the battlespace.”

  Now Max understood why someone like Morozov might be interested. His expertise in the defense sector, and his connections at the highest levels of the Russian government, would make this a valuable steal.

  “You said Morozov was going to hack into my father’s plane again. When?”

  “In a few days. Fend Aerospace has their final approval test flight with the FAA. It will have people on board this time. Mostly reporters and company executives. The FAA has already declared it safe. Now they want to observe it with passengers aboard. We think he’ll try to hack into the network during that flight—during the vulnerability window.”

  “None of this explains why I was set up. What’s all this got to do with me?”

  “We think Morozov knows about your background in Europe—you had a lot of connections there to unsavory characters. And he needs someone to divert the FBI’s attention—an inside man at Fend Aerospace. If they’re off worrying about you, then that’s taking eyeballs away from him.”

  Max had an idea about that. Renee’s theory was holding water. “So he just wants to hang this on me because he thinks I make a good scapegoat? That still doesn’t explain it.”

  “There is one more thing. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think that Pavel Morozov really does have someone working on the inside at Fend Aerospace.”

  Max couldn’t stop his jaw from momentarily dropping. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know? Why would you say that?”

  “That’s what MI-6 thinks. The cyber experts there think it seems logical. They think that someone with inside knowledge and access to the Fend Aerospace network would be needed to pull it all off. That’s how they were able to frame you. And that’s how they know so much about the Fend network.”

  “Has Morozov or his team mentioned anything about someone on the inside of Fend Aerospace?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s an MI-6 theory that they want me to look into. Morozov runs a very tight unit. They’re some of the best-trained operatives in the world. Many of them are former FSB. His security team is all former Spetsnaz.”

  “I met some of them recently,” Max said. “Nice guys.”

  She swayed to the music like she was just a regular tourist, here to dance. “That was quite an escape,” she whispered into his ear. “He was very upset about that.” A smile. She really was attractive.

  Max could feel her body pressing up against him. He smelled her perfume, too. It smelled good.

  “So one minute he’s trying to set me up to take the fall for my father’s company sabotage. Then he’s trying to kill me. Why? Why not just kill me in the first place?”

  “We think that at first, he needed you to take the fall. But now that the FBI has taken the bait, he doesn’t need you alive anymore.”

  “Isn’t he worried about this all leading back to him?”

  “It won’t.” She seemed very sure of herself.

  Max thought about telling her that Renee had already traced it back to one of his subsidiaries, but he didn’t want to give her more information than he needed to. Not yet.

  “In a few days, he’ll be taking his yacht to Jacksonville,” Charlotte said.

  “Jacksonville? Where Fend Aerospace headquarters is located?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why in God’s name would he do that?”

  “I think he wants to be there when it happens.”

  Max shook his head. “I need to warn my father. He needs to cancel the Fend 100 flight.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We went out on a limb and freed you, Max. We gave you a second chance for a reason. We have a plan. Now hear me out.”

  He folded his arms. “What do you want me to do?”

  “They’ve planted a computer virus in the Fend network. One that will allow them to steal the Fend 100’s AI data during the flight next week. But you can stop it, Max.”

  “How?”

  “MI-6 is working on a fix. It would be another software program—one that would serve as a sort of antidote to the virus they put in there. This would make sure that they couldn’t hack into the aircraft.”

  “So why do you need me?” Max said. “Why not just contact the CIA?”

  “We’ve tried working with the CIA on this, but they aren’t seeing things our way. They preferred to wait. We wanted to move. They weren’t sure what to do about you. We decided that the best option was to break you out of custody in D.C. and get you to help us out.”

  “Why?”

  “You hold your father’s confidence, Max. He’ll listen to you. You can’t let him cancel the flight—this cyber antidote is the best way.”

  “What will it do?”

  “It will allow British intelligence—and the US, when they get on board—to turn the tables on Morozov’s hackers. It will make sure that they can’t steal the AI data. And it will give us the incriminating evidence we need to bag Morozov.”

  Max was taken aback. Was she saying that the CIA and MI-6 wanted to let Morozov conduct another cyberattack on his father’s company?

  “Who are you working with at the CIA?”

  “Caleb Wilkes.”

  “Wilkes?” Max knew the name. Not well, but well enough. Wilkes was CIA counterintelligence. He was a very shadowy figure—even for Langley.

  “He’s the one who’s going after Morozov,” Charlotte said. “He intends to take him down or turn him. He’s fishing. And trying to let out enough reel that Morozov doesn’t break the hook.”

  “Is Wilkes on board with this plan?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know why Wilkes doesn’t see it our way. So far we haven’t been able to convince him to take an alternate path. But now we have you involved. I’ll give you a thumb drive with the cyber antidote to plug into the Fend 100 control center. Can you do that?”

  Max thought about it. “Yes. I think so. Do you have the thumb drive now?”

  “I won’t be able to give it to you until the night before. They’re still working on the software program. You’ll have to meet me in Jacksonville.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to go.”

  “How will I hear from you?”

  She reached up and gripped the back of his neck, leaning in like she was going to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips hovered over his ear. “The night before the test flight—I’ll call you and tell you where to meet me. Give me your number.”

  She held out her phone and he typed a number in.

  She looked into his eyes. “It will be alright, Max.” Then she softly kissed him on the cheek, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Pavel Morozov watched the speedboat approach from the second deck of his yacht, whic
h was anchored several miles north of Key West.

  His security man looked at Pavel, and then at the girl. Pavel gripped her ponytail with his strong right hand, pulling back so that her head was arched over the rail of the vessel. The drop was a good forty feet to the warm water below.

  The girl had been pretty, before his knuckles and ring had gone to work on her face. Her eye was swollen. Blood dripped down from her nose and lip.

  The security man nodded toward her. “Would you like me to finish her?”

  Pavel shook his head slowly. “No. Please just send up our new arrival.”

  The woman who had just arrived on the speedboat came up a minute later. Pavel looked her up and down. “Ah, hello, Miss Capri.”

  Charlotte regarded him, her eyes glancing at the scared and bloodied woman that Morozov was holding by the ponytail.

  “Good evening, Mr. Morozov.”

  “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  “I did.”

  Pavel looked back at the girl by his side. The position of her body looked painful, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. Her eyes were afraid, but her voice was silent.

  Morozov stared at her. “I intend to drop you into the sea. But before I do that, is there anything else you care to tell us? If it is helpful to me, perhaps I will change my mind about your fate.”

  Still the woman didn’t say a word. She just sniffled quietly.

  With his left hand, Morozov removed a small black object from his pocket. He kept holding the girl back with his right hand. With his teeth, he carefully pulled open the folding blade of the knife.

  The girl he was holding began struggling to free herself from his grasp, her eyes widening at the sight of the blade.

  “Do you want to do it?” Pavel asked Charlotte.

  She let out a sound of disgust and walked away.

  Morozov smiled. He turned back to the girl and shoved the knife into her back several times, careful that he punctured her lungs. He then flipped her over the rail and off the yacht. Her legs had been tied together, with weights attached to them. That would send her down to the bottom.

  Her body made a big splash, but it was dark. Morozov couldn’t see her after she sank below the surface. But he felt good, wiping his bloody hands on a towel. It was always satisfying to remove a bad employee from his organization.