The Uccello Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #10)

by Estelle Ryan

  “I wish I’d pushed them for more info three hours ago.” Anger and regret pulled at the corners of Pink’s mouth. “Now they won’t tell me why they didn’t reveal that the plane had lost contact earlier. I know they’re protecting something or someone, but I—we—simply don’t have the kind of security clearance to be told what or who is on that plane. Not without warrants.”

  “Daniel is on that fucking plane.” Vinnie stepped into my viewing room, breathed a few times loudly before returning to his place in the doorway.

  “I’ll get a manifest of everything and everyone on the plane.” Francine started tapping on her tablet, but stopped when Manny turned in his chair to look at her.

  “Let’s do this right, people.” He rubbed one hand over his face. “I’ll get in touch with Privott. We’re not the president’s special little team for no reason. He’ll get us everything we need to know about this flight, its cargo, the passengers and the staff. Leave the hacking for when someone decides to stonewall us.”

  Francine nodded and Manny tapped on the screen of his smartphone. While everyone listened to the short and mostly one-sided conversation Manny had with the director of public relations for the president of France, I filled my mind with the beautiful sounds of the clarinet concerto, hoping it would remove the panic that was blocking the signals from my brain to my mouth.

  Manny finished his call with an order to have the flight details within ten minutes, then stabbed hard at his smartphone screen with his finger.

  I inhaled deeply and addressed the monitors. “What is the timeline of the plane? When did it take off? Do you have a minute-by-minute report until they lost contact?”

  Pink looked down to something in his hands and nodded. He lifted his tablet until it was in view. “The airline sent it to me a few minutes ago.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Uh”—he looked at his tablet—“flight 602 took off at exactly eleven thirty from Paris, they climbed steadily until eleven forty-five, entered German airspace and when they went over Cologne they were supposed to make contact with the air traffic control tower. They didn’t. The tower tried to establish contact with them eight times, but still they didn’t respond. The plane simply wasn’t where the radar showed it was.” Pink stopped, his eyes wide. “Shit.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Francine’s nonverbal cues fluctuated between shock, excitement and disbelief. “Can this be real? The first time?”

  “I don’t know, Francine.” Pink put both his hands on his head. “This would be huge.”

  “What the bleeding hell are you two on about?” Manny knocked on my desk. “What would be huge?”

  “Hacking a plane.” Francine shifted from side to side, excitement bringing colour to her cheeks. “In theory it is entirely possible and a few hackers claim to have done it, but it’s been shot down by the airlines, national security experts and cybersecurity experts as impossible.”

  “How else could Daniel’s plane show up on radar, but not be there?” Pink asked. “Someone must’ve gotten into the system and is controlling it. That would certainly explain why the airline is not forthcoming. It would also explain why two of the apps showed Dan’s flight path.”

  Francine nodded as if she’d just confirmed a fact. “It’s a cover-up. They wouldn’t want the public to know about the plane hacking. I don’t think any aviation authority would like that juicy little titbit to be public. Can you imagine what it would do to airline stock, travel plans, etcetera?”

  “People are going to start asking questions very soon.” Pink leaned back. “I’m surprised it hasn’t hit the internet yet. When it does, it will cause a shit-storm all over these people holding back information.”

  “Holy hell!” Manny slumped in his chair and stared at my desk. He picked up one of my academic journals lying on the top of seventeen others, glared at it and put it back. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Hacking cars and planes. What’s next? No, don’t answer that. Supermodel, tell me what you know about the possibility of hacking a plane. Surely your criminal pals talk about it on the underweb.”

  “There’s a lot of discussion about this on the dark web, but it’s mostly speculation and hypotheticals.” She looked up and left, remembering. “I can’t recall any conversation that would hint at it being done here in Europe.”

  “Is it possible?” Manny asked again.

  “Very.” Pink swallowed. “Even though they use micro-segmentation in modern, fully computerised planes, it doesn’t mean that it’s impossible to get to the plane’s avionics system, the beating heart of a plane.”

  “Micro-segmentation?” Vinnie asked.

  “Separating the different packets on a common wire.” Francine rubbed her hands together. “This is one way of keeping data exactly where it needs to be. Out of the hands of hackers. But Pink is right. It’s not that hard to get in there.”

  “An attacker wouldn’t be interested in getting into the passenger information or entertainment services domain, unless it’s to get to the more important domains,” Pink said. “If a hacker can compromise the satellite communication equipment, he or she will be able to progress into other, more critical systems on the plane.”

  “And the easiest way to do that would be through the on-board Wi-Fi.” Francine lifted one manicured finger. “Fortunately not all planes have that in place yet. Hacking a lot of older planes would be as useful as hacking a brick. It would have to be a more modern plane to make this work.”

  “Bloody hell.” Manny’s phone pinged and he looked at the screen. “I’ve got the flight manifests.”

  “I’ll put it up on the monitors.” Francine swiped her tablet screen.

  “No sense of privacy,” Manny mumbled, but I didn’t detect any resentment.

  Francine tapped on her tablet a few times until she accessed my computer and monitors. She moved Pink to the centre monitor and arranged the different files on the other monitors.

  My first interest was the passengers. I zoomed in on that monitor and scrolled through the two hundred and thirteen names. This was an Airbus A340-300 with a maximum capacity of two hundred and sixty-seven people.

  Manny was scrolling on his smartphone. “Huh. Fifteen of the passengers are US teenagers. They’re taking part in the IAAF World U18 Indoor Championships in Minsk. What the blazes is this IAAF World U18?”

  “The IAAF is the International Association of Athletic Federations,” Pink said. “It’s like the Olympics, but for track and field events for kids seventeen years and younger.”

  “Let me check that.” Francine tapped on her tablet. “The U18 Championships are taking place this week and next. I didn’t know about this. All European countries are represented there. The US, Russia, China, Japan and Australia also have teams taking part.”

  “Who’s this Venessa Neveu?” Manny squinted at the passenger list on the monitor. “She has a star next to her name.”

  “It’s not a star. It’s an asterisk, handsome.” Francine worked on her tablet for three seconds. “She’s the French minister of culture. It looks like she often goes on diplomatic trips. Whenever France is represented through music, art, sport or any such thing on an international level, she tries to be there. She believes that these are the best ways to break down barriers between cultures, religions and races.”

  “Sounds like she would get on well with the Russian consul general.” Colin’s phone pinged and he took it from his pocket. “Both of them using something—art and sport—to build bridges and strengthen society.”

  Pink entered the entire passenger list into a search engine that gave us more detail on each passenger. There were businessmen, a scientist, Belarussians returning home, people on tourist visas, the US youth athletic team and the French minister of culture. Pink paused, his eyebrows lowered, his lips tense. “And Daniel Cassel.”

  “Dammit.” Manny shook his head. “Anyone suspicious on the plane? Anyone flagged?”

  Pink took a moment to a
nswer. “Nothing at first glance, no. This system is quite reliable, so if some terrorist is on that plane, they’ve done a good job hiding themselves.”

  “Or they’re using a false passport.”

  “Could it be that they targeted that plane because they knew Daniel was on it?” Manny asked.

  “I doubt it.” Colin was scrolling through some document on his phone. “I doubt it very much.”

  “Would you like to share with the class why you think this?” Manny’s lips compressed as he glared at Colin’s phone.

  Colin tapped his phone screen a few times, then pointed at one of the monitors with his phone. “Because of that list.”

  “Which list?” Pink frowned. “I can’t see what you guys are looking at.”

  “No way, dude!” Vinnie stepped closer, his eyebrows raised as he stared at the second monitor from the left. It displayed information that hadn’t been there before. “It’s a list of paintings.”

  “Remember Nikolai told us about the art going to Minsk for the grand opening? Well, it’s on this plane.” Colin shook his head. “My God. I understand the reasoning behind having goods of extremely high value on a flight that would normally only transport goods of lesser value, hiding it in plain sight and all. But this? This makes my blood boil.”

  I found that expression most disturbing, but looking at the list of artworks was of much more interest. “Eighty-seven paintings. The combined value of those must be staggering.”

  “No, love. They are invaluable. Priceless. Without measure.” Colin pushed his fingers through his hair. “The Sandro Botticelli, Giovanni Bellini, Caravaggio and Lorenzo Lotto alone could never be replaced. God, there’s also a Jean Clouet and a Pisanello. This is a treasure trove.”

  Something Colin had said earlier bothered me. “How do you know these are the paintings for the exhibition Nikolai was talking about?”

  “Oh. Yes.” Colin lifted his phone. “He emailed me a complete list.”

  “Ooh, let me put it up here with everything else.” Francine tapped on her tablet a few times, undoubtedly accessing Colin’s email. Three seconds later another monitor lit up with a document.

  I slowly scrolled through the list, looking for a possible anomaly. I found it on the second page. “Uccello’s Saint George and the Dragon is on that list.”

  “Shit.” Colin leaned closer. “Is the Scenes of the Life of the Holy Hermits also there?”

  I ran a quick search and found it listed near the bottom of the third page. “It’s here.”

  “The originals of Emad’s bad forgeries are on that plane?” Manny rubbed his hands hard over his face. “Holy bloody hell!”

  A stunned silence filled the room for almost a minute. Question after question flowed through my mind until they were running on a loop. I turned Mozart’s clarinet concerto on in my mind to continue the Adagio. The harmony of this composition was great to help me focus. I needed to stop the rotating questions and thoughts. If I didn’t, experience had taught me that it would result in a shutdown that lasted longer than most.

  I inhaled deeply and shifted in my chair. “Has Emad somehow had access to these paintings? Is that how he was able to copy them, albeit badly?”

  “He could’ve done it from one of the gajillion photos on the internet,” Francine said.

  “Hmm.” Colin shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Taking everything that has happened into consideration, I’m thinking that he had access to them.”

  I waved my hand to dismiss their speculation. “I should not have asked a question that had no certain answer. A better question might be how Emad had access to this list. Does he have a connection to this exhibition?”

  “Well, the list of paintings in this exhibition is no secret.” Colin lifted his phone and shook it lightly. “You can find it on the internet. Nikolai Guskov’s UTA has done extensive marketing to create awareness of this exhibition. The biggest draw, of course, would be listing the most famous Renaissance painters in order to attract people.”

  Colin’s answer led to more questions joining the loop in my mind. Mentally, I turned up the volume of the clarinet concerto.

  “Doc’s not going to say it, so I will.” Manny slumped lower in his chair. “We have all these Renaissance artists, so I’m convinced that Fradkov and his Renaissance fetish would be interested. If Fradkov is interested, then he most likely got Emad involved in this. Those two must have known that the art would be transported today.”

  “I agree.” Francine nodded enthusiastically. “And I wouldn’t clutch my pearls in shock if Fradkov has hacked that plane to get to the art. I like your theory, handsome.”

  “That’s no ringing endorsement.” Manny grunted. “Doc? What do you think?”

  “I think that we should look for more facts and spend less time speculating.” I observed Manny’s irritation without surprise. He liked speculating. He called it brainstorming. I sighed. “Instead of guesses, here are a few questions.” I stared at the top monitor without seeing what was on it. “Has the plane been hacked? Has it been hijacked? If either of those are true, was it done for the art? Or is Daniel the target? Maybe the French minister of culture? Is it a terrorist attack to instil fear and is unrelated to any of this? Is the US U18 team the target? Is there something or someone else on the plane that is not on the manifest that could be of interest to whomever took control of the plane? Or”—I swallowed—“is it technical failure and a simple plane crash?”

  Manny raised one eyebrow. “Do you believe that it could be anything not related to Fradkov, Emad, the paintings or Daniel?”

  “No.” It would mean I would have to believe in a myriad coincidences. “But I don’t know who fits in where or what their desired outcome is.”

  “Well, my desired outcome is to find Daniel.” Pink had been quiet for so long, I’d forgotten about him. His expression was dire. “We must do it now. We must find Dan.”

  I agreed. The urge to find Daniel and see his easy smile overrode my curiosity over the badly copied paintings Emad had sent his father. I thought back to yesterday’s associations. “Otto told us that Emad had plans to target emergency services. Could it be that he had Daniel and his team in mind?”

  “Shit.” Pink lost some colour in his face. “You guys really think Dan was targeted?”

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t. “But I’m going to need your input if we are to find him. We need to know everything possible about Daniel Cassel.”

  Chapter NINE

  “This really doesn’t feel right.” Vinnie grimaced and took a step away from the table.

  “I feel exactly the same, Vin.” Francine sighed, but didn’t stop working on her computer.

  “That makes three of us.” Pink was sitting next to Francine at my dining room table. I had taken the wooden bowl I’d bought in Peru from the centre of the rectangular wooden table to make place for the four laptops currently displaying various parts of Daniel’s digital life.

  Pink had insisted in joining us as we looked into Daniel’s life. He’d also asked if we could do this away from anything official. At first, his reasoning had seemed illogical. Whether we worked in my apartment or in the team room, our investigations always remained official. It had only been when I’d taken a few moments to analyse his micro-expressions that I had understood his distress. He didn’t want Daniel’s private life to be viewed by anyone else but us.

  “Each part of Daniel’s life is only that. A segment.” I waited until everyone looked at me. Each face displayed high levels of disquietude. “We are doing this to get a holistic view of his life in the hopes that we will find something to determine if Daniel was specifically targeted.”

  “I might have something.” It looked like Francine was about to cry. She inhaled, but stopped when the front door opened.

  Nikki stepped into my apartment and her eyes widened when she registered the sombre tone around the table. Some of the laughter around her eyes and mouth disappeared. “Is this about that plane?”

/>   “How do you know about the plane?” Manny’s tone was accusatory. He’d been in constant contact with the aviation authorities as well as Julien Privott, all of whom had told him they were keeping the disappearance of the plane quiet.

  “It’s all over Twitter. And Snapchat. And Instagram.” She walked closer and stopped next to Manny. “And for the old fogies, it’s all over Facebook.”

  Vinnie jumped up and stormed to the other side of the apartment, the part he and Nikki shared. A second later, the drone of the large-screen television sounded. “It’s on the news!”

  As one, we got up and walked to the entertainment area Nikki, Vinnie and Colin frequented. Vinnie was standing a few feet from the television, clutching the remote control. He shook it at the television. “It’s breaking news. Everyone knows about it now.”

  “Bloody hell.” Manny left the room, his smartphone already against his ear.

  “Um...” Nikki looked at everyone in the room, then came to stand next to me. “What’s happening, Doc G?”

  “The control towers lost contact with this plane seven hours ago. There are eighty-seven paintings on this flight, a group of American students and Daniel.”

  “Wait. What?” Her frontalis muscles raised her eyebrows high, widening her eyes. “Daniel? Our Daniel? Daniel with the shaved head and the sweet smile? He’s on that plane?”

  “Yes.” Pink’s tone was strained.

  “Oh, Pink, I’m so sorry.” She walked up to him and threw her arms around him. “You must be so worried.”

  Some of the tension left Pink’s muscles as he returned Nikki’s embrace. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed deeply.

  Manny walked back into the room, a deep frown furrowing his brow. “Privott says they had to give the media something. The people waiting for the plane to land were threatening legal action if they weren’t informed.”

  “Seriously?” Not letting go of Pink, Nikki turned her head to stare at us. “I mean seriously. They really thought they could keep this information from the public? People have all kinds of apps to track planes en route and check if there are any delays.”