by Mike Ryan
“He told me his codename. It was like he was taunting me, not expecting me to live the night. He probably assumed the attack on me wouldn’t fail and I’d never live long enough to remember his name,” Recker answered.
“Are you sure she’s dead?” Jones asked. “Maybe he was only telling you that to provoke you for some reason. It wouldn’t be the first time that…”
“She’s dead,” Recker interrupted. “While I was recovering in London, I searched online for any news that I could find on her. And I found it. Her obituary. They covered it up by making it look like a house fire. Carrie Brodin, twenty nine years old, the only victim in a fire that engulfed her home, burned down to the ground,” Recker recalled, vividly remembering every word of the article.
“Carrie, she was why you’d grown weary of the agency, wasn’t it?”
Recker nodded. “I never expected to meet someone like her. After I left the agency, another year or so…I probably would’ve asked her to marry me.”
“Was she aware of what you did?”
“Not at first. I kept it from her to protect her. And probably because I was sure she’d want nothing to do with me if she did know. But, after a while, once things got really serious, I told her. I expected that’d be the end of us. That she wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“But that wasn’t the case?”
“No. I think it might’ve made her love me even more. The hardened killer whose heart she softened. I think she found me a challenge. She always liked a good challenge,” Recker smiled.
“So what was your intention in Orlando?”
“To kill whatever Centurion agents came looking for me and get the information I needed. Unless Seventeen was one of them.”
“You mean, you were just going to keep killing agents until you found the one you were looking for?”
“That was the plan.”
“While I sympathize with your loss, Mr. Recker, you can’t just keep killing whoever’s unlucky enough to be in your path until you find the one person that you’re looking for,” Jones stated.
Recker shrugged. “Seemed like a good enough plan at the time.”
“Well if that was your plan then why did you agree to my offer?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I guess it just struck a nerve.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. You don’t strike me as the type who does things on impulse. You’re usually already thinking several steps ahead.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t what I was thinking when I agreed to this little enterprise of yours, but now, now I’m thinking maybe you can help me.”
It didn’t take Jones long to realize what Recker was implying. He knew what he wanted. “You mean you want me to help you locate this Agent Seventeen.”
Recker made a face and shrugged, which was as much of an acknowledgment as Jones was getting. “It occurred to me.”
“What makes you think I can find this…mysterious agent?”
“You found me. You can find him,” Recker answered.
“So what your asking, is to help you find this man so you can execute him?”
“If that’s how you want to interpret it. I look at it as finding the man who executed the woman I loved.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Jones told him. “To have someone’s death directly tied to my hands, albeit one of questionable character, is not something I’m sure I want to be a part of.”
Recker looked a little disappointed, but certainly wasn’t going to beg for help. “That’s your call. But know this…I’m going to look for him on my own, and when I find him, I’m gonna leave you and this place the moment that I do.”
“And if you do, when that happens, even if it’s a year from now, you’d risk leaving behind and throwing away everything we would have built up?” Jones asked, slightly animated.
“Listen, this is your project, not mine. If you were to help me, maybe I could be persuaded to stick around when I was done with him.”
“Assuming you’d come back from whatever predicament you were running into.”
“I’m gonna do what I have to do. The rest is your call.”
Recker stood up and walked around the room for a few minutes, finally stopping by the one window in the room, overlooking the laundromat. He watched a few cars pull out of the lot and onto the main road. Jones watched his newfound companion as he gazed out the window, thinking about their predicament. After about five minutes, Jones finally broke the silence.
“If I were to agree to this plan of yours, I can’t guarantee a specific time frame of finding this man. It could take weeks, it could take months.”
“That’s OK. My hatred will still burn no matter how long it takes,” Recker responded. He turned back around to the desk area to face his partner. “How exactly did you find me?”
“I had stumbled across your situation during some of my…well, let’s just say, some of the files I happened to come across.”
“So how did you know where I was when Centurion didn’t?”
“I didn’t. I wrote down a list of several agents who were of interest to me. Yours happened to be one of them. I left the NSA about a month after your situation in London. I spent the next three months looking for you, not physically, but on the internet with any crumbs of information I could find on you. But I couldn’t turn up a thing.”
“Yeah, it was a pretty good spot I found,” Recker said, walking around the desk.
“So I put you, and all of your aliases on my watch list. Two months later, John Smith popped up as buying a plane ticket to Orlando. I thought you’d made a grave error in deciding to use a known alias and used a rather clever hack to change the plane’s destination. So, whoever was waiting for you, believes that you actually got off the plane in Virginia, then rented a car to St. Louis. From there you went on to Texas.”
“I was wondering about that. About why they wouldn’t see that I came to Philadelphia.”
“Little did I know that it wasn’t a mistake on your part. If I’d known it was intentional, well, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation today.”
“If you’re feeling a little too uncomfortable with my situation, Jones, feel free to hire somebody else. I won’t think bad of you for it. And I give you my word I’ll never say a word about this to anyone else,” Recker offered.
Jones gave a half smile, “thank you, Mr. Recker, but that won’t be necessary. And though I believe you in that you would keep all this quiet, I don’t feel the need to hire anyone other than you. You see, I do trust you. I do believe I hired the right person for this. So if I want you to help me…then I need to help you.”
Recker sat back down on one of the chairs by the computers. He spilled his guts, let his heart down on his sleeve and revealed his innermost feelings to Jones, just as he’d wanted. Now, it was Jones’ turn to reveal his.
“So, now that you know what my true endgame was and is out on the table, why don’t you do the same?” Recker said.
Jones squinted at him and nodded, agreeing. “You are correct in that my motivations, though honorable, are not completely just about saving humankind. Much like yourself, I’ve had to deal with a personal loss, which is a big reason why I’m here today.”
“What happened?”
Though Jones was still a bit hesitant to divulge information about himself, he knew he had to in order to further gain Recker’s trust. “You’re right. I’m not from Philadelphia, or even this state. I’m originally from Chicago. Well, a suburb just outside of Chicago. As for my real name, that’s something you’ll never know. As far as I’m concerned, the person I was before is dead. He will never return. Much like you’re now known as Michael Recker, for me, from now on, my name will only ever be David Jones.”
“So what got you into this?”
“Though I obviously knew and was aware of the NSA’s ability to filter information from multiple sources from everyday people, I never really thought much about the consequences, or lack thereof the same. T
hey do a very good job of identifying and tagging people who are a national security threat.”
“But?”
“But the amount of information they receive that they just let slip through their fingers that could help regular, normal people is staggering. I believe we’ve already discussed the reasons why, and they’re valid, but I just couldn’t keep watching good, valuable intelligence be thrown away.”
“What happened to change your mind?” Recker wondered.
“My brother. He died last year in a robbery,” Jones said, remembering the event like it was yesterday. “He owned a bar. One night, he was closing up, just him and one of his employees. As they walked out the door, they were both shot and killed.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“The men who did it were caught and apprehended rather quickly. But several months later, I read something about how the men sent texts to each other about the robbery before it happened, planning it. So I went back into some of the NSA archives, found their names and phone numbers, and there it was. The NSA had data that the bar my brother owned was going to be robbed by these men,” Jones explained, shrugging his shoulders. “And they did nothing. It didn’t pertain to national security so it didn’t really matter in their eyes.”
“That’s pretty rough.”
Jones sighed as he continued. “So, it was then that I decided I needed to break free of the NSA and branch out on my own. I wanted to help others and try to prevent something like what happened to my brother. So I spent the next several months working on a program that sends the information the NSA gets to my own personal servers. Then I figured out how the rest…how to finance this operation, how to operate, where to go.”
“And who to hire.”
“I have many skills, but I lack certain traits. Those are the traits that you have.”
“How is it possible to grab the information from the NSA without them knowing it?” Recker asked.
“It’s a very complex formula in which I’ll spare you the technical details. Suffice to say that the NSA receives such huge packets of data, and once it’s logged into their servers, that even if the smallest amount was resent to me, they’d be alerted.”
“So how do you do it?”
“I developed a program that takes a very small amount of data, only from this area, and redirects it to my computers at the very same time as it’s uploaded to the NSA’s servers.”
“So they’re not aware of it being taken from them?”
“Correct, because as far as they’re concerned, nothing is missing,” Jones replied. “They’re still getting the data that they’re supposed to be getting. I’m just pilfering a small amount of it and concealing the whereabouts.”
“What if they did some type of system check and noticed the data being redirected?” Recker asked.
“In that event, they would find the information being sent to a server in Washington…the state, not D.C. Further investigation would find them following the trail from there to Texas, to North Dakota, to Maine, and so on and so on, even with a couple of stops in Canada and Europe thrown in for good measure.”
“How are you able to do that?”
“As I said, I’ll spare you the technical details. Unless you have years of programming knowledge it’s unlikely you’d understand anything I told you. Just understand that what I’ve done is not really supposed to be possible.”
“So how is it that you were able to find me?” Recker wondered.
“The NSA has tools that make it possible to even lift the layers of other United States government agencies private and secure files. While I was still there, though on the verge of leaving, I thought it might be a good idea to look at potential candidates who I thought could help me on my endeavor.”
“Who had my experience?”
“I was, in particular, looking at certain agencies who specialized in clandestine operations and were experts at multiple activities. In addition, I was looking for people who had at least five years of experience, and in my view…limited time left at their then current location.”
It occurred to Recker that Jones might already have the name of Agent Seventeen when he was initially searching through the CIA’s records. “Do you have those records or files from when you found me? Maybe the guy I’m looking for’s in there.”
“I’m afraid not,” Jones answered, shaking his head. “All I have left are the files and information from the final five agents I was considering.”
Recker sighed, figuring it was just his luck that Jones didn’t already have the information he was looking for. “Figures.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d need it. I didn’t think I’d ever have use for all of that information anymore. Besides, the man you’re looking for might not have been in my search anyway.”
“Possible.”
“Might not have been on the job for the five year requirement I was looking for,” Jones stated.
“Maybe. How soon can you start looking for him?”
“I can start within the next couple of days. It could take some time, though. First, I no longer have the NSA program that hacks into the CIA database. So that means I’ll have to create my own. That will take time to make sure that it’s invisible to them, or in the event they notice, leads them on a wild goose chase to Timbuktu.”
“I understand. I know one thing though, no matter how long it takes…,” Recker said, his voice trailing off.
“Yes?”
“He’s on borrowed time.”
Chapter 6
The following morning, Jones was already in the office by eight, as seemed to be his trademark. Recker came in a few minutes after eight to get instructions for the day. As soon as he walked in, his phone started ringing. Considering he hadn’t been in town very long, and he only had two phone numbers programmed into his phone, one of them being in the same room with him, he knew who it was before even looking at it. Unless it was a wrong number. It wasn’t.
“What can I do for you, Tyrell?” Recker greeted.
“I wanted to meet up with you for a few minutes if you got the time.”
“Why? Did you acquire those other items on my wish list yet?”
“Nah, not yet. That’ll prolly take a little time. There’s a couple other things I wanted to talk about.”
“Such as?”
“Rather do it in person. One thing I’ve learned over the years is not to discuss business over the phone. Never know who’s listening,” Gibson said.
“All right. Time and place.”
“Art museum. Make it an hour.”
“I’ll be there,” Recker said, ending the conversation.
“Who was that?” Jones wondered.
“That was our friend, Tyrell.”
“You have a curious outlook on friends.”
“Can’t be all peace lovers and churchgoers.”
“I suppose not. What was that about?”
“He wants to meet for some reason.”
“Has the rest of your merchandise?”
“Says no,” Recker said, looking at the wall trying to figure out what he wanted.
“You don’t suppose it’s a trap of some sort, do you?”
“I doubt they’d set a trap at the art museum.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.”
Recker went over to the new steel gun cabinet that adorned the far wall by the corner. He took out two of the pistols, one Glock and one Sig, and put them in their respective holsters, one in the back of his pants and one on his left side.
“Do you really think you’ll need both of them for some reason?” Jones asked, peering up at him over his laptop.
“Never know. Always have to be prepared. Just in case.”
“Well, I understand that, but why are you taking two?”
“Always carry a backup weapon,” Recker told him. “Just in case something happens to the first one. Misfire, lost, stolen, taken…whatever the case may be.”
“You certainly are
thorough.”
“You know, I was thinking, how exactly did you go about finding Ms. Hendricks? Or anybody else for that matter?”
“I thought we already discussed all that?”
“No, you told me the process for how you get the information. You didn’t exactly say how you get a name. I mean, she must not be the only name in that little system of yours.”
“Well the names don’t just fall out of the sky, Mr. Recker. I actually have to do some work to identify the potential victim. This isn’t like a TV show or something. I don’t just get a name or a number and hand it over to you. I get the snippets of information I already told you about and then I go to work. I cross reference the code phrases that alarmed the system and match them up against phone numbers, emails and such, then try to get the names of the particular parties involved and assess the threat levels, figuring out who exactly is in need of our assistance. It can be quite involved and doesn’t happen in a matter of minutes.”
Recker raised his eyebrows. “Sounds reasonable to me. I was just wondering.”
“And no, Ms. Hendricks is not the only victim on our radar. She just so happens to be first on our radar. The others will be coming shortly.”
Recker smiled. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Recker walked out of the office and down the wooden steps. He stood there for a moment and pulled out his phone, contemplating dialing a number, the one person on the planet he knew he could trust. Although he believed everything Jones had told him to that point, after everything that had happened to him, trust wasn’t in large supply for Recker. His gut told him that everything Jones has said was honest and accurate, but if Recker was to keep on going with this arrangement, he needed to be a hundred percent sure that his new partner was completely trustworthy. Recker walked around the building to the parking lot and started dialing the number he knew by memory.
“Hello? Who’s this?” a man’s voice greeted.
“Alpha Two One Seven, Delta Six Four Three,” Recker answered.
“Oh, it’s you. Didn’t recognize the phone number.”
“Well, considering everything that’s happened, I figure I’ll have to change them every few months.”
