Face of the Earth
Page 14
“You broke in?”
“Not exactly, sir. Let’s just say that she wasn’t there to invite us in. But we got to look around, and we checked her computer pretty good. We made a copy of her hard drive. Same thing with an external hard drive. Some of it was encrypted, but we were able to break through that fairly easily. So far, it doesn’t look like there’s anything there that we’d be interested in. Some stuff about the FDA, but nothing we’d care about. Here’s something interesting, though. We could tell that she was looking at a website called HealthMap. It lets you check outbreaks of diseases all around the world. She was looking at chickenpox.”
Zaborsky interrupted. “That’s what our people told the locals out in Farmington. They still don’t know that they’re dealing with smallpox. It sounds like this reporter was talking to someone in New Mexico.”
“Maybe then, but not anymore. Not since we shut down the communications on Thursday. We also took action on that website. We told them the data on chickenpox was all fictitious, that it was part of our ‘training exercise.’ So they took it off the website. All we did was suggest that cooperation could be real important for their next grant applications.”
“So the reporter is under control?”
“Yes sir. We’re still keeping an eye on her. Just a couple of men, but we’ll notice if she tries anything funny. If necessary, one of our people could always stop by and have a nice chat with her.”
* * *
Chapter 15
Sarah
F.B.I. officials said the incident came to light as part of the continuing review by the Justice Department inspector general’s office into the bureau’s improper collection of telephone records through ‘emergency’ records demands issued to phone providers. The records were apparently sought as part of a terrorism investigation, but the F.B.I. did not explain what was being investigated or why the reporters’ phone records were considered relevant.
—New York Times, 2008‡
Day 27: Preparations
Driving back toward D.C., Sarah began planning her trip to Four Corners. Once she reached Cortez, Colorado, she’d need help from Jillian’s friends, but first she wanted to talk to her father. Remembering what he’d said about tracing cell phones, she decided not to create a link to West Virginia. Even with an anonymous cell phone, it would be better to wait until she was closer to home.
An hour later, she exited the interstate just outside the Washington Beltway and pulled into a strip mall. She parked the car near an electronics store that her father had shown her years ago. After looking in her notebook, she turned on the cell phone she had just purchased and dialed the number her father had sent by e-mail.
He answered on the third ring. “Hi Sarah,” he said in a voice that seemed tired or maybe just worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine Dad. But things sure have gotten a little crazy around here. As far as I can tell, it’s all about this story that I’m working on.”
“Don’t tell me any more about it. The less I know, the safer you’ll be. Look, I really meant it when I said I was proud of you. You figured out the key steps after our last conversation. But now, you’re pretty much on your own.”
“I think I know what to do, Dad, but I’m a little nervous about it. How did you know that I was going to need all these things in the first place?”
“I didn’t know. Mostly it was left over from …” He paused before finishing, “… from when I was traveling a lot. Just in case of emergency.”
“I think I understand. Maybe sometime soon you can fill me in on the last 30 years.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s time. Sorry if it took you by surprise. I suspect you’ve already figured out a lot of it. Look Sarah, I really can’t say much right now. Are you using a phone that can’t be traced?”
“Absolutely, I just got it at …”
“Don’t give any details. You may want to completely avoid using your own phone for a while. Remember, your phone records will show all the people you’ve talked with, so that would link them with each other. Even more important, whenever you use it, the records will show where you were at the time. I’ll keep this phone, so you can reach me in a real emergency. But remember, I’m not as young as I used to be, and it’s only little kids whose dads are superheroes. The rest of us are just regular mortals. Stay safe Sarah, I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.” The line went dead.
Following her father’s advice, Sarah took out her old cell phone, the one that was listed in her real name, and removed a panel on the back. She found the SIM card and removed it. After fitting the rear panel back onto the phone, she put both the phone and the SIM card into her backpack. Then she got out of the car and walked toward the electronics store.
“May I help you?”
Sarah explained what she was looking for, and several minutes later, she departed with a hand-held shortwave radio. The debit card was now worth about $500 less than it had been, but the salesman had given her a huge discount because it was returned merchandise. The salesman had given her a thorough demonstration and had thrown in some spare batteries.
She put the radio in one of the side pockets of the backpack and removed about a thousand dollars in cash from the packet of bills, a mix of denominations. There was one more stop to make. She wanted to go to a store that sold outdoor gear. At the outfitters, Sarah selected a few pairs of hiking socks and a lightweight water-resistant jacket and pants. Walking through the camping and hiking section, she saw something else that might be valuable. It was time to add GPS to her bag of tricks.
By the time Sarah had cleared the checkout counter, she had spent most of the thousand dollars. The salesclerk seemed surprised that that someone would pay in cash, but Sarah just explained that she’d been putting aside a little bit every payday for the last year to get ready for a holiday hiking trip. Everyone who worked in the store seemed to approve heartily of hiking trips, so nobody gave her explanation a second thought.
* * *
Day 27: Heading West
Sarah made one final stop to fill Eric’s gas tank. Then she started thinking about surveillance. There was no concrete evidence that she was being watched, but there was also no question that someone had searched her apartment while she was in Florida. As she approached her neighborhood, she once again donned her baseball cap, put on her sunglasses, and pulled up the collar on her jacket.
The overhead door at the garage entrance had closed again by the time the car reached the bottom of the ramp. As expected, Eric’s space was empty, and Sarah tossed the plastic bag of trash from West Virginia into a nearby trash bin. Then she removed the backpack from beneath the seat, picked up the shopping bag with her latest purchases, and headed to the elevator.
As the elevator door opened to the 12th floor, Eric Murphy was just leaving his apartment. “Hey Eric. Here’s your key. Thank you so much for lending me the car. I never saw that jerk once, so maybe he’s decided to find someone else to chase after.”
“No problem, Sarah. Always glad to help. Let me go get the key for your Accord.”
“I’ve got my spare key, and you look like you’re on your way out. You can give it to me later.”
“You going camping?”
“Huh?” Sarah looked down at the label on her shopping bag. “Oh yeah, but not camping. I was going to do a little biking. Take a few days off after working all weekend. The weather has been so nice, I thought I might get on the trails and just ride out into the Virginia countryside. Maybe stay at a bed and breakfast.” Once again, she was surprised at how easily lies flowed off her tongue.
“Sounds like fun. Enjoy yourself, and I’ll probably see you later in the week. Be careful!”
“I will, Eric. Thanks again.”
Sarah went into her apartment and started packing. Her large backpack was perfect for the trip. Everything she might need would fit in it. For carry-on luggage, a smaller backpack would hold all her electronic gear. She packed her laptop, GPS, cel
l phones, and handheld radio, along with her wallet and extra cash.
By late afternoon, Sarah was ready to go. She wanted to be really careful now about leaving tracks, or not leaving them, depending on her goal. Two of her three cell phones were in her large backpack, the one she had purchased at National Airport as well as her original cell phone. She didn’t want to use the original phone at all, not unless it became necessary to resurface under her true identity, and the one that had been purchased by “Jennifer James” had to be saved for a real emergency. The third cell phone, Sarah Wallingford’s, had only been used to call her father so far, and she would be careful if she had to use it. It was important to minimize the possibility that anyone could make a connection between the two identities—Sarah Wallingford, who would be flying west in the morning, and Sarah Lockford, who was going off on a bike trip.
Sarah booted up her desktop computer logged onto her e-mail account at the Post. There were a half-dozen messages, but nothing of real significance. She composed a message to Sue Parkinson saying that she was tired from working all weekend and was taking a few days off to go biking.
She needed to make contact with Jillian, and radio seemed to be the only option. But they had made no arrangements for a follow-up conversation. Maybe Elmer would still be monitoring the same frequency. It was really the only hope. Sarah wasn’t sure her new radio had enough range, so she turned on the old Emerson set and set the transmitter to 9,030 kHz. She was glad it wasn’t digital. Even if someone had noticed the transceiver, she had turned the dial, so there was no record of the frequency she had last used. To reduce the risk of identification, she violated the rules by not using her call sign. “This is Sarah calling Jillian. This is Sarah calling Jillian.” There was no response. She waited five minutes and tried again, “This is Sarah calling Jillian. This is Sarah calling Jillian.” Still nothing.
Sarah waited another 15 minutes, growing more nervous with each second. Then she tried again. “This is Sarah calling Jillian. This is Sarah calling Jillian.”
She jumped when the set spoke back to her. “Sarah this is Elmer.” It was the same voice as the last time.
“Elmer, we need to make this quick. Please tell Jillian I’m going to visit Mr. Cortez tomorrow. Tell him I’ll call at 4:30. Do you copy?”
“I copy. Tomorrow. 4:30.”
“Thank you. Over and out.” Sarah heard nothing more, and she turned off her transmitter. The whole exchange had taken less than 30 seconds, and she hoped that was too short a time for anyone to pick up the transmissions. She also hoped that Elmer and Jillian would understand what she meant. It wasn’t “Mr. Cortez” she was visiting but Cortez, Colorado, where she hoped she would find Raymond Morgan. She had a telephone number, and she hoped he’d be ready for the call.
Sarah was exhausted and hungry, but she didn’t want to run the risk of leaving the apartment. The same people could break in again. So she used her regular telephone to call a local restaurant that delivered. After a quick dinner, she thought about her early flight in the morning.
* * *
Day 28: D.C. to Colorado
Sarah awoke to her alarm at 5:30. It was still dark. She showered, made a quick cup of coffee, and dressed. A final check reassured her that she had everything. She hefted the large pack onto her back, picked up the small pack, and headed for the parking garage.
She did not go to her car and went instead to the far side of the garage where her bicycle was stored. She unlocked it and attached the lock to the frame. She attached the smaller pack to the rack on the back of the bike, securing it carefully with an extra bungee cord. Then she walked the bike to the exit door and swiped her access card. Mounting the bike, she rode quickly out of the garage, looking carefully for traffic. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching. Just like her last ride, she headed for Key Bridge but turned off at the last minute to cross over the George Washington Parkway. She rode hard on the Mount Vernon trail, reaching the airport in about 15 minutes. But this time she kept going. She didn’t want any trace of Sarah Lockford at Reagan National.
Rounding one of the curves in the bike path on the side of the airport, Sarah saw a burly man stopped on the trail ahead, straddling his bicycle. He held up his hand as a signal to stop. She recognized the uniform. Police frequently patrolled the paths on bicycles. They know! They were watching me!
She looked around, desperately searching for a possible escape route. But there was no place to turn, no place to go. If she kept riding or tried to run away, the cop would certainly be able to catch her. She had all the extra weight of her backpack. Silently cursing herself for being incautious, Sarah braked and came to a stop as she approached the officer.
“Excuse me, Miss. Do you know how the best way to get to the Washington Monument from here? I think I got myself a little turned around.”
He’s not a cop! His warm-up jacket was almost the same color as the uniforms that the park police used, but he was just another rider out for a morning of sightseeing.
Sarah pointed back in the direction from which she had come. “Just keep following the path around the airport. In about a mile, you’ll come to the 14th Street Bridge. There’s a bike path on the last span, just after you pass under the bridge. That’ll take you right to the monuments. Have a good one!”
Breathing hard, but not from physical exertion, Sarah got back on her bike and continued riding. I only lost a couple of minutes. No problem. Damn! I’m really getting paranoid.
At the south end of the airport, where the bike path crossed Four Mile Run, Sarah veered off onto another path that went underneath the parkway. She followed this trail through a heavy industrial area that looked like a water treatment plant. After another half mile she exited the path and used local streets to ride to the Crystal City Metro station, where she locked her Cannondale to one of the station’s bike racks. Using cash to buy a new farecard, she caught the next train to the airport.
As she stepped off the train at Reagan National, Sarah once again put on a baseball cap. Not exactly a disguise, but it would make it more difficult for anyone to recognize her from a distance or from a routine airport surveillance photo. She checked in at one of the electronic kiosks and then handed her large backpack to an airline employee. “Looks like you’re going hiking. “I hope you find someplace without too much snow.”
“Me too,” replied Sarah. “My first stop is Colorado, but California should be a little warmer.”
“I hope so. Have a nice flight.”
Sarah tried to calm her nerves as she approached the security checkpoint. She had been careful not to bring too much of the cash with her, not wanting to do anything suspicious. Almost half of the money was still in the file cabinet in West Virginia, and she’d also left $3,000 in her apartment. It was on top of the frozen spaghetti sauce in a half-full plastic container in her freezer. When she added up all her funds, she was traveling with about $6,000 in cash. Some of it was in her wallet, and the rest was in one of the zippered pockets of her small carry-on backpack.
Reassuring herself that her identification wasn’t fake, just different, Sarah Wallingford presented her boarding pass and Virginia driver’s license to the security guard. He smiled, scribbled an approval mark on the boarding pass, and pointed to one of the screening counters. She unlaced her boots and put them into a plastic tray. The laptop went into a separate tray. The screener gave her a momentary scare when he backed up the conveyor belt for a second look, but then the belt resumed its normal forward progress. Sarah was waved through the security scanner, and she began to retrieve her items from the plastic trays.
“Excuse me, Miss. Is that your backpack?”
Sarah nodded, fighting back a wave of nausea. Stay calm! Maybe it’s nothing.
“Could we take a look at this please?”
She forced herself to answer. “Of course.”
“We just need to check it out. There seem to be a few electronic devices in here, and we didn’t recognize one of them.”
“Could you turn this on for me?”
Sarah did as requested, and after a few seconds the screen lit up with its standard message.
“That’s fine, ma’am. Thank you. You can turn it off and put it away.” He handed it back to her and reached for the radio. “Now just what do we have here?”
“It’s just a radio. It’s a standard …”
“Would you turn it on for me, please?” He watched her carefully as she powered up the device. It only took a second or two.
“Do you want me to scan for a signal or something?”
“Please. I need to verify that it really is a radio.”
The unit squawked with some local construction traffic, and the screener extended his hand. “Sounds about right. One last thing, though. Would you please turn it off and remove the batteries?”
Sarah did as requested and then handed him the unit. He examined the battery compartment and the frown on his face slowly changed to a smile. “I guess we’re okay here, ma’am. We just have to be careful. I hope you understand.”
Before Sarah could answer, he spoke again. “I’d suggest you leave these batteries out of the device for now, all right? We don’t want anybody thinking that you might try to use the radio during your flight.”
“Yes sir. Sorry to cause you any worry.”
“Have a good flight, ma’am.” The screener turned to go back to his station.
Sarah reached clumsily to gather her other belongings and bent down to put her boots back on. Her legs felt unsteady. God almighty, I hope I don’t have to go through that again. I’m sure as hell not going to leave the security area while I’m in Denver.