The Lafayette Campaign: a Tale of Deception and Elections (Frank Adversego Thrillers Book 2)

by Updegrove, Andrew

  He looked at the second block of three letters again: 209. That was easier. The 2 couldn’t go with the 5 before it, because that would make 52. And 0 didn’t apply to any letter, so he guessed the right way to read that triplet would be “20 9.” That would spell “TO,” Assuming that the 0 wasn’t intended to indicate a space between words.

  He waited for the number to change again. It read 200000. So all he had to figure out was whether the last letter in the message was indicated by the digit 2 or the number 20. Assuming he was using the right code, the rest of the zeroes were meaningless filler.

  He fervently wished Boss Man would shut up as he tried to remember and sort through all of the possible variations he now had to work with.

  First he tried making as many single digit letters as possible, and got:

  7,1,5,20,9,2, or GAETIB

  That was clearly nonsense.

  He tried the next variation, combining the 1 and the 5 to get:

  7,15,20,9,2, or GOTIB.

  Damn! Nonsense again.

  He reverted the 15 to 1, 5 and changed the 2 to 20, and got:

  7,1,5,20,9,20, or GABIT

  Shit! Did he get the code wrong? He thought there was only one variation left. That was:

  7,15, 20,9, 20, which was GOTIT

  Did that make any sense? If so, it sounded obscene.

  Of course – ‘Got it’ worked. But if that was it, what did it mean?

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Yes! That was it! It was a question! The sender wanted him to let them know when he had cracked the code.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. You’re just boring me to death and I was daydreaming. What did you say again?”

  His elation was cut short when he noticed that only a handful of emails remained to be reviewed. Whoever was signaling him must be expecting him to use the same code to reply. But how could he manufacture a need to enter a code again?

  Then he had it. He was using his right hand to click down through his email, and his left hand was lying idle on the left side of the keyboard. He’d barely need to move the little finger on that hand to reach the tiny Wi-Fi switch on the side of his laptop.

  With only two emails left to open, the email screen disappeared.

  “What happened?” Boss Man said. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. You must have a crappy Wi-Fi modem. Or maybe one of your goons is hogging the bandwidth streaming porn again.” Boss Man gave Robin a dirty look.

  “Try and log on again.”

  Frank secretly moved the Wi-Fi switch back to the on position. Thankfully, the log-on box was set to display asterisks rather than the actual digits he was typing, so although he made a show of looking at his phone, the number he actually typed was 25,5,19,0 – which meant “YES,” the last zero being filler.

  Like magic, the email screen leapt back into view.

  “Alright, so it works – good. Now shut it down again. I’ve had enough of this crap for today.”

  Frank was exhausted and grateful when Boss Man and Robin left the room, leaving him and Guard Man alone once again. But now he was anything but bored. He had no idea yet how he was going to escape, but at least he could communicate now with someone on the outside who must be working towards that same goal.

  * * *

  43

  Surprise!

  It had taken two days, a lot of surreptitious switching on and off of his laptop’s Wi-Fi receiver and some brain-bending, real-time deciphering, but at last Frank knew how he was going to escape. Or perhaps die trying.

  The plan was disarmingly simple. All he needed to do was send the agreed-upon six number code when he’d been given permission to use the bathroom. When the guards on the outside and inside had unlocked the door, Marchand and his reinforcements would make their move.

  It sounded simple, but Frank had no idea what they would be up against on the other side of the door. Was there a single guard outside, or many? Was his cell in a deserted building, or in the middle of the hacker’s headquarters? He had no idea how many layers of defenses lay on the other side of his prison door, and hoped that Marchand did.

  George did. But with only a few six digit messages a day to work with, he hadn’t been able to spare any on that type of reassurance. Frank would just have to take it on faith that George wouldn’t act unless he was sure his plan would work.

  But could he? Sure, George was a good friend, but the stakes were high. He knew from his last adventure that if the government thought the next best thing to freeing him would be for him to be killed in the rescue attempt, it would be full speed ahead. George might not even be in control of the operation. Frank wasn’t in a position to know that, either. And here he’d always thought that nothing could be worse than a dial-up modem.

  By mid-morning, he was jittery and in a foul mood. Not only had Boss Man failed to materialize at the usual time for their daily email tryst, but Frank couldn’t get the last corner of his Sudoku to work. Then he heard a rap at the door, and his guard stood up.

  Frank tried to look bored, but inside he was all nerves.

  “Okay, Frankie. Time to play Post Office again.”

  Frank grew edgier as they plodded through the tedious email triage process. Where was the ready to go signal from George? If it didn’t come soon, Boss Man might decide to end the email session before it did.

  At last, the all but impossible string of six zeros displayed. Holding his breath, he covertly flipped the Wi-Fi switch.

  “Damn!” he said, pushing the laptop away. “Can’t you get this frigging Wi-Fi to stay on?”

  Boss Man shrugged. “Not my department.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve had it. And I’ve got to use the can, too.”

  “So sad. Finish off those last two messages first.”

  Frank’s fingers trembled slightly as he moved the Wi-Fi switch to the on position, typed the response into the token app that would tell Marchand that he was ready, and then finished the final email replies that Boss Man dictated.

  “Okay, that’s it. Now open the damn door before I piss in my pants.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” But at the same time, Boss Man gave a nod to the guard.

  Frank stood up slowly; he wanted as many bodies as possible between him and the door in case there was gunfire.

  Frank’s guard unlocked the door from the inside, and then rapped on it to summon the guard on the other side. But nothing happened. He rapped harder. Still no response. Frank felt like he must be visibly vibrating, but luckily no one was watching him.

  Boss Man pushed the guard aside and banged on the door with his fist. Again they waited, and finally Frank heard footsteps coming towards the door.

  “What the hell were you up to, asshole?” Boss Man yelled at the door as the outside lock clicked open. He threw the door open, and a blinding, shattering blast of light and thunder threw him backwards into the guard.

  Frank hit the floor as instructed, and rolled under the table as the lights went out. Acrid smoke filled his lungs as shouts, thuds, and flashlight beams sweeping like light sabers filled the blackness of the room. He held on to the floor for dear life, half deaf and blind and wondering whether his side was winning or losing.

  Someone shone a light in his face and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Got him!” a voice behind the light yelled. Frank fervently hoped that it belonged to someone on his team.

  It took him a moment to realize that the room had gone quiet. Still stunned, he was surprised to see when the lights popped back on that he was alone in a smoke-filled room with what looked like a giant insect. It helped Frank stand up, and then removed a large helmet, night-vision goggles, and a gas mask. His rescuer handed the last item to Frank.

  “Here – let me help you get th
is on. Good. Take a couple deep breaths now. Good again. You okay to walk?”

  Frank peered through two circles of tinted glass and nodded yes.

  The smoke had mostly cleared by the time they reached the end of the hallway. He pulled the uncomfortable gas mask off, the better to appreciate the view of Boss Man, Robin and Guard Man spread-eagled against a wall. They were being frisked by the armored men that must have fired the stun grenade and then tackled Frank’s suddenly stupefied keepers. He felt like he should stop to thank the rest of the SWAT team, but his escort took his arm.

  “Come with me. There’s some people waiting for you outside.”

  When they finally stepped out into the sunlight and fresh air, he was instantly engulfed by Marla in an interminable hug. A respectful distance behind her he saw George and, to his surprise, Josette.

  “Thank goodness you’re alright,” Marla said. “You are alright, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Other than feeding me a lot of cold take-out food they treated me okay.”

  He pushed her away gently and held her at arm’s length, his hands on her shoulders. Her face was streaked with tears.

  “But how about you? Are you okay?”

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Of course I am.” She turned and waved George over. “Now say thanks to George. Thank God he was there to help.”

  “Looks like I owe you one again, George.”

  “How you figure? I got you into this, didn’t I?”

  He noticed Frank glancing at Josette. “And you should thank Josette as well. You hadn’t shared that much with Marla and me. She helped fill out the picture considerably.”

  Josette stepped forward, smiling uncertainly.

  “So good to see you free again, Frank. But where is your laptop?”

  He frowned. His laptop? Why should anyone care about that right now? But he answered anyway. “I don’t know. George, did one of your men pick it up?”

  “I’ll find out.” He and Josette walked over to where the SWAT team of Secret Service agents was bundling his former captors into an unmarked van.

  Frank started to follow them, but Marla intervened with another hug; she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. After a moment, Marchand returned and the SWAT team drove away.

  “Nope, they don’t have it. You want to give us a tour of your secret hideaway?”

  Frank stiffened; maybe it was just the lingering impact of the stun grenade, but he really didn’t want to. But he could hardly say no.

  “Sure. If your money’s good, I might even let you have it.”

  Marla took his hand as they walked through the deserted building, talking quickly about everything and nothing now that the tension of the last few days had been released.

  The smoke had cleared, but the smell of explosives grew as they approached the room where Frank had been held prisoner. They found the guard’s chair in pieces, the table shoved to a corner of the room, and the floor covered with magazines. But his laptop and phone were safe, still sitting on the table.

  “So here you are. All the comforts of home, as long as you don’t expect a home to have any comforts. There’s a whole lot more space, now that my roommate has moved out. Better air quality, too, even taking the smoke into account.”

  Dropping his phone in his pocket, he scooped up his laptop and turned back towards the doorway. In it he saw Josette, and in her right hand he saw a gun. Once more, it was pointed at him. But this time she wasn’t smiling.

  “Frank, put the laptop down. Everyone put your hands on your heads.”

  “Come off it, Josette. Put your toy gun away. I want to get the hell out of here.”

  She put a bullet through the ceiling.

  Frank stared at her, his jaw dropping slowly. Then he put the laptop back on the table and put his hands on his head.

  “You will now each slowly take your phones out of your pockets, one at a time. George, you first.”

  George frowned, and then did as he was told.

  “Kneel down and slide it across the floor to me.”

  Once more, George did as he was told. Josette kicked the phone out the door.

  “Now you,” Josette said nodding at Marla, and then to Frank.

  “Now Frank – the laptop. Put it in the middle of the room.”

  What should he do? Try and tackle her? What would she do with them after she had what she wanted?

  “Just do it,” George said evenly, looking at Josette rather than Frank. “Don’t try and be a hero. She knows she can’t shoot all of us before we’re on top of her, but she can shoot you.”

  “Do it,” Josette said, her voice quavering.

  But Frank wasn’t ready yet. “Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain?”

  “A world other people can live in! If you stop the hackers, your stupid people will elect another fool to the White House.”

  “But what’s my laptop got to do with it?”

  “When I know what you know, I can make sure someone does not win that may drag the world into war and economic disaster again.”

  “You can’t possibly! We’ll just stop you.”

  “Will you? Didn’t George tell you your administration is afraid to reveal that the primaries were a fraud? Why will that change now? You know I will not allow that imbecile Wellhead to win. Once your president wins, will he launch an investigation? I think not. Now put the laptop on the floor where I told you, and do it very slowly.”

  Frank licked his lips. At least he had a couple of weeks before the election to think what he could do. He put the laptop on the floor.

  “Good. Now all of you − turn around and put your hands against the wall. Higher!”

  The next thing they heard was the sound of the outside lock turning in the door. And then the sound of footsteps quickly disappearing into silence.

  They turned around and looked at each other. Then George and Marla began to examine the meager contents of the room with renewed interest.

  “So,” Frank said with a sigh. “Do either of you like Sudoku?”

  * * *

  44

  Anchors Aweigh

  Frank stared at the ceiling of his camper as it rocked from side to side. George had provided a driver to get him out of town at night, but he couldn’t sleep.

  It seemed crazy; now there were two teams trying to hack the election, and for all he knew, there could be more – apparently, Butcher had disappeared the same day that Frank had, so what the hell did that mean?

  Worse, George had told him that the President’s Chief of Staff still intended to do nothing. He knew Marchand would expect Frank to continue working to stop the real hacker, and that Josette was going to try to make sure that Wellhead didn’t win. If somehow Wellhead or Yazzie won anyway, he could always “discover” the fraud then. The upshot was that nothing had changed; Frank and Marchand were still on their own.

  In the few hours between their liberation from his cell and his being packed off in his camper, Frank hadn’t even bothered to ask where he was being shipped off to. Some out-of-the-way cabin or campsite or desert or who knew where; he didn’t really care. As long as it was somewhere where a couple of goons weren’t likely to materialize out of nowhere to grab him it was all the same to him.

  He closed his eyes and rolled over. Eventually, he even went to sleep.

  * * *

  George had thought long and hard about how best to motivate Frank to go all out to stop the election from being stolen. If there had been less at stake, he would have felt guilty for banishing him to the quietest place he could think of.

  Better get on with it, he thought. He placed the call.

  “Hey, Frank! How you doing?”

  A grumpy voice replied.

  “You’d know bet
ter than I would.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Where the hell am I?”

  George looked at his watch.

  “You should be on the ferry to Moose Haven. It’s an island off the coast of Maine. My family used to go there when I was a kid.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s the idea. Most people haven’t. It’s a pretty out of the way place.”

  So out of the way that the ferry made only a few runs a week in the off season. Frank didn’t need to know that yet.

  “You should be really safe there. Your driver left a map on the passenger seat after he drove the camper onto the boat. All you’ve got to do is follow the directions and you’ll find a cottage we rented. The key will be under the door mat. And we’ve got your camper stocked with everything you’ll need until after the election. You won’t have to go into town if you don’t want to.”

  “So at least there’s a town?”

  “Well, maybe not in so many words.” George hurried on. “We also set the false location program on your camper to show that you were heading for the Great Smoky Mountains. Everything was going just fine until you tragically fell asleep behind the wheel last night and ran off a cliff. I’m afraid you didn’t survive the impact. The police report has already been filed.”

  “But −”

  “Don’t worry. There won’t be any publicity.” He paused; now came the delicate part.

  “And we’ve made sure that all your electronic gear is tuned up and working perfectly.”

  Silence.

  “Frank?”

  “I’m not feeling so well. This boat is rocking like hell.”

  George frowned. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to discuss next steps.

  “Why don’t you step out and get some fresh air? I’ll check back in later. Bye now.”