by Fiona Quinn
“I can’t watch the news anymore. I can’t bear what’s happening. Just the other day, Sadiq Bikar was beheaded for trying to save antiquities.” Sophia blinked furiously, trying for control. “He was my father’s mentor.” She finally got the words out, then cleared her throat. She looked at the camera. “It is so damned easy for me to sit here in my living room and order cameras. To send an email that has a coordinate. To make suggestions from the distant safety of a satellite image. But every time I do anything, ask anything, people on the other end risk their lives.”
Brian turned his head as a car parked in front of her house. “Nadia’s here.”
Good timing, Sophia thought, needing a minute to clear her head before she said something that could put everything at risk. The next few days were crucial.
Chapter Eighteen
Brian
Friday a.m.
When Sophia came back with a tea tray and cookies, Nadia was lifting the second prototype from the box. “This one’s only twenty-seven dollars?” she asked. She looked through the lens. “Oh, I see the difference. I think we need the planer identification. This one isn’t going to give us the level of detail they’ll need in court.” She worked to re-wrap it. “The Institute of Digital Archaeology and Preservation came up with some grant money, so I don’t think we’re going to have to compromise.”
“I’m not willing to put people at risk for data that’s not strong enough to protect the artifacts.” Sophia set the tray down and poured a cup of tea to pass to her partner.
“Sophia was telling me why you’re going to disseminate these, they seem like a pretty amazing forensics tool. I’d like to get the specs on these and get that information to Iniquus. We have 3-D cameras to help us process crime scenes, but this camera’s ability to demark planer distinctions isn’t something I’ve come across.”
“And it’s a good price,” Nadia said.
“There is that,” Brian agreed. He wanted to get the women chatting about their objectives, to see what was on their minds, and what they were working on now. Maybe, just maybe, one of them would mention the artifact from the FBI sting. “What are the projected uses?”
“Our goal is to get five thousand cameras to Syria by the end of the year.” Sophia said, then looked up at him. “Tea?”
Brian held up a hand to indicate no.
Sophia passed a cup to Nadia. “The cameras have memory cards that can be brought to America for Nadia and me to work with. We’ll curate the images and make them searchable. The teams will have rechargeable batteries, and we’re sending solar panels for them.”
“Five thousand cameras take up a lot of space. When you get them into Syria, along with all their paraphernalia, how do you get them distributed? And how do you get folks trained in their use?”
“That’s a challenge.” Sophia took a nibble of cookie and put it back on her saucer. “We’re giving them to our network—people working on the ground, and asking them to do their best. It’s a fluid situation, and we don’t have a lot of information. Every time we receive a communication, it means someone is putting themselves and their families at risk of being tortured and killed. We can suggest sticking one in their glove compartment, driving it out to a village. But that might be lethal. We’ll let those in the know do what they can. You understand what I’m saying. You were talking earlier about decision making in Bagdad. Lives over art. Always.”
Nadia sent Sophia a look asking for an explanation. When she didn’t get one, Nadia turned back to Brian. “We hope that the distributors can teach their contacts what to do. For example, there are a lot of ancient structures that are being demolished. If the rubble is left in place, and we had 3-D images pre-destruction, then historical restoration experts may be able to—after the conflict cools—go in and put the monuments and edifices back together. That’s a big if. A lot of big ifs. But right now, it’s all we have.”
“Whoever designed the cameras did a good job,” Brian said. “They don’t look like anything special. It’ll make things a bit safer for your colleagues.”
“Nadia, how big is the grant? What are they expecting in return for their money?”
“Two point three million, and they want ten thousand images this year.”
“What? How are we going to get anything else done?”
“I haven’t a clue. But we can talk about it with Jael. He’s coming in on Monday.”
“Oh, is he now?” Sophia winked at Nadia, and Nadia blushed fiercely in response. Sophia turned to Brian. “Nadia’s first crush is still squeezing her heart. Poor thing.” Sophia’s voice had the teasing lilt of a sister. She turned back to Nadia. “Do you want to see what he sent this morning?”
“Yes.” Nadia set her mug on the floor and gathered the tray and walked it back to the kitchen. “Hey,” she called out. “What’s this thing?” Nadia came back with a sharp piece of metal in her hand.
“Brian told me to walk around my car before I drove. That was wedged under my back tire. If I backed up, I would have been out changing the darned thing again.”
“When did you drive this morning?” Brian asked.
“I didn’t.” Sophia didn’t understand why he sounded so accusatory. She could drive her darned car without Brian Ackerman’s permission. “I was checking out the property to see what needed clearing up. I looked at the tires because—I don’t know, I just looked at the tires. I thought you wanted me to.”
Brian picked up a piece of paper from her printer and held it out under the metal spike. “May I have that please, Nadia?”
Nadia dropped it onto the paper, Brian folded it up and went to take it to his car.
As he was slipping out the door he heard Nadia say, “He’s going to find out who’s doing this. I know he is. This is a good thing. He’s protecting you. You’re safe.”
He held the door for a moment to hear the rest, but shut it quietly when Nadia said, “Come on now, show me what Jael sent.”
***
The three of them were huddled around the desk in a tight circle. Nadia was calling out GPS coordinates and Sophia was mapping. As the information populated the map, they saw clusters emerge. On another screen, Sophia had the same map overlaying a satellite image she had been investigating.
“What are these numbers you’re inputting here?” Brian pointed at the red pin she’d just placed.
“I’m indicating significance.”
“What makes them more or less significant?”
“Nadia and I have a scale that’s more feel than fact. We judge rarity, age, size, scale, beauty. The kinds of metrics that would be taken into consideration at auction houses and on the black market. Of course, it’s mostly a stab in the dark. With the images we’ve been getting from a normal digital camera, we have to hope that, for example, someone thought to include a marker—a coin, for example—that can help us understand the size.”
“If you’re guessing, why do you do it? Give them a significance number, I mean.”
“Sometimes our allies have to choose which areas to protect. They look to us for guidance. This system gives us a hierarchy. If we have a thousand examples of item x, but y is precious, unique, and amazing, then that’s where we should put our effort.”
“Who asked you to do that?”
“No one,” Sophia said a little too quickly, like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Someone most assuredly had asked for this data, Brian thought.
“I agree with Sophia,” Nadia said. “If the Pentagon were to call and ask if there were areas that they shouldn’t bomb, and we only had a few minutes to get them the coordinates, then we can scan this map and make a good assessment based on a mathematical formula.”
“Academically flawed as it may be,” Sophia said.
“We can only do what we can do.”
Brian felt the buzz of danger running from the back of his neck over his scalp. “Who has access to this data?”
“Sophia and I, you, and we can
show it to Thorn if you’d like. Since you’re part of the team that’s supposed to keep everything secure, you should know what we’re trying to protect.”
“No one else knows about this?”
Nadia put up another photo. “You seem a little intense, Brian. What are you thinking?”
Brian pointed at the new image. “Can you zoom in on that?”
Sophia adjusted the screen, letting her software fix the pixilation, making the image of the hand holding a small statue stand out.
“Can you go left? I want to see that guy’s tattoo.”
Sophia worked to change the focus. “You have a thing for tattoos?”
“Stop there. Get closer. Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, sure. Nadia and I have known him since we were little kids, that’s Jael.”
“I know someone with that exact same tattoo. Where’s this guy from?”
“Dual citizen, US and Israel. His dad worked with our dads on digs. Jael and I played in the sand together.” Sophia sent a wicked grin toward Nadia. “Of course, the games Jael and I played were nothing like the games he played with Nadia.”
“Shut up.”
“Why is he involved in collection work?” Brian pulled his phone from his pocket, pretending to check a text. He took a surreptitious picture of the screen.
“He was educated in America and joined his father in the non-school parts of the year, like Nadia and I did with our fathers. He’s very knowledgeable about antiquities, though he has no formal education. When he turned eighteen, he joined the military in Israel; it was required. And he went into the Special Forces. We thought he had died in an attack on a military convoy, but he turned up later. Which was a great miracle.”
“I imagine it felt that way,” Brian agreed. “And why is he working with you now?”
“The Israeli government is afraid that Hezbollah and Hamas are getting a good-sized cut of the ISIS money, because ISIS is shipping artifacts along the drug routes. He’s doing what we’re doing. Trying to preserve and protect. Trying to stop the sales and profits.”
“Does he have access to your information? These maps, for example. Do you share them with him or anyone else in your network?”
Nadia sent him a worried look. “Well yes, on occasion.”
“Are you ladies going to be working on this more today?” he asked.
“All day. We have a lot of data to get through,” Sophia said.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave for a few hours.” He stood. “I have some paperwork and meetings. I’ll be back tonight.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to,” Sophia said. “I’ve had two good night’s sleep now, and I only plan to take half a pill tonight. That lets me get to sleep and stay asleep, but in an emergency, I can handle myself.”
Brian stalled. Shit. “It’s not an inconvenience. I don’t mind at all.”
“Thank you. But it’s Friday night. I’m sure there’s someone who’s expecting you to take her out for a good time. Sitting on my couch counting dust bunnies is well above the call of duty.”
Brian stood, mind racing, trying to find some way to talk himself back into Sophia’s guest bedroom. He turned pleading eyes on Nadia, the voice of reason who had gotten him in the door in the first place.
“Tomorrow we’ll be over bright and early,” Nadia said. “Three women, five kids, and a pool potluck. It’ll be good to relax. We should probably talk Monday morning though, and get a game plan together. I have more information about Peru. And Jael is flying in, you may want to be around for that.”
Brian didn’t miss the startled look Sophia shot Nadia’s way.
Chapter Nineteen
Brian
Friday p.m.
“Ready for some shit?” Brian asked.
“Bound to be connected with Sophia,” Nutsbe said.
The three of them were gathered around Nutsbe’s computer. Thorn was flipping through papers that were shooting into the printer tray.
“Sophia and Nadia.” He scrolled through his phone to pull up the picture of the tattoo.
Thorn and Nutsbe came to immediate attention.
“No way,” Nutsbe said.
There on the man’s left arm, exactly where the face of a watch would be found, was a geometric design based on the Sephirot from the divine tradition of the Kabbalah. It was the emblem used by an esoteric group dating back to the time of the Crusades and the Knights Templar.
“I thought we got the whole group. Did the feds release anyone?” Nutsbe’s fingers flew over his keyboard.
“This is Sophia and Nadia’s childhood friend. A dual citizen—American-Israeli. He’s on their team to help save Syrian artifacts. He seems to be in a leadership role. The women communicate with him frequently, and they share their data with him regularly,” Brian explained. “His name is Jael Cohen. They thought he died in an explosion, but then, ta-da! He showed back up on the scene. Sound familiar?”
Just this past December their fellow Panther Force brother, Gage Harrison, killed two men with this same tattoo when they broke into his fiancées apartment and tried to kidnap her. As they dug their way through the case, Panther Force captured or killed twelve men, all told. Every single one of them had that tattoo. All were listed as KIA in the Middle East, only to show up a decade later, happy and healthy and living in America. Panther Force thought they’d rounded up all of them. The Panther’s called them Rex Deus, after the ancient group who swore that they would return to the Holy Land and find the treasures safeguarded there. The Rex Deus band of brothers hadn’t given up a single detail about their group.
“Jael Cohen,” Nutsbe muttered under his breath. “He’s listed with Israeli military as KIA in Israel. It doesn’t look like they know he’s risen from the ashes. I don’t see any information about him being dead in American databases. Date of birth…American social security… He’s travelling on an American passport between Turkey and the US on a fairly regular basis. Lists business travel… Hmm. Let me put this through the database and see if we can’t get his face associated with his tattoo.” He clicked another key. “This’ll take a minute.”
“We can get eyes on him ourselves. Apparently, he’s coming to Washington on Monday,” Brian said.
“We need to let Gage know we’ve got a new Rex Deus on American soil. It would be nice if we could drag this guy’s ass into a room and ask him a few questions about their organization.” Nutsbe typed as he spoke. “I’m sending Special Agent Prescott an email. I’ll cc Gage and Titus—they may want to get a protection detail on Dr. Kealoha while Cohen is here.”
“This guy feels like he’s on a different task. I don’t think he cares much about Dr. Kealoha and microrobotics. Do you think Rex Deus might be Israel’s Iniquus?”
“Hell, no. Can you see us doing anything like what they’ve been up to? I’m betting that Israel put together a black ops unit. They staged a catastrophe that took their special forces off grid, and now they’re being deployed in ways that can’t be sanctioned by the state. And I think that Israel is probably none too happy that we’ve already got hold of a dozen of their special boys.”
“Interesting twist. Right now, we’ve got nothing on the guy beyond his training, his tattoo, and his long-term friendship with Nadia and Sophia,” Thorn said.
“Nadia’s relationship with him goes beyond friendship—well, it did at one time. Seems like she’d like it to now as well,” Brian added.
Nutsbe gave a thoughtful nod. “The plot thickens.”
“What else have we got?” Thorn asked. “All these pages Nutsbe’s printed out from the women’s correspondence are what we’d expect to find. Checking up on people. Checking in. Warning folks to stay away from certain areas. Nothing we could take to court.”
“Speaking of court, I found out why Sophia’s got a date in front of the judge in ten days. She’s trying to make a case for her children inheriting Grandma’s estate.”
“Who’s making a claim?”
�
��Betty Campbell. Matthew Campbell’s daughter.”
“Matthew’s daughter, not Jane’s?” Thorn asked.
“Right, this was an out of wedlock baby, born to a different mother well before Matthew and Jane married and had Hunter. Matthew and Jane had a typical will. If Jane died, Matthew got everything; if Matthew died, then Jane got everything. If they died at the same time their offspring would split everything. Betty wasn’t mentioned by name, only Hunter.”
Thorn cocked his head to the side. “Sophia doesn’t want to split the estate with Betty?”
“Matthew died first, leaving everything to Jane. Betty is not kin to Jane. Jane’s son is dead. Following the will, all of Jane’s possessions should go to Hunter’s offspring.”
“Huh.” Thorn scratched his hand over his chin. “Do we know anything about Betty? Was she close to her dad? Not that it matters much.”
“Betty has a rap sheet of petty crimes, mostly drunk and disorderly. She obtained her GED while in jail. There’s nothing in the database for the last six years. The lawyer who’s representing her is the kind who takes a major cut of the cake if you win and walks away with nothing if you lose. We all know that that makes them kind of rabid in the courtroom.”
“Betty doesn’t have a case though, does she?” Brian said, thinking back to the reason Sophia told Nadia she wouldn’t leave the neighborhood. If it weren’t for 9/10ths rule, I’d be out of here in a heartbeat. She must be entrenched in that toxic atmosphere to preserve her children’s inheritance. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Sophia, Brian here.” He tapped the button for speakerphone and laid it on Nutsbe’s desk.
“Hey,” she said, then her voice became muffled. “Try that area there on the left-hand side of the screen.” Her voice came back louder. “How can I help you?”
“One of the things we always do is run background on folks we’re watching over. We’re looking at security risks, and I just came across the name Betty Campbell with regards to you.”
