“I’ve got the floorplan,” Vail said as she worked her laptop. “Zillow. Terrific for privacy.”
“Privacy?” Rodman asked. “What the hell is that?”
Zheng grunted. “Speaking of which. Just heard from NSA. This is coming together nicely.” He scrolled through the encrypted message. “Lansford’s wife and kids are in Charlottesville, visiting her sister for a couple more days. She owns a winery. Hmm. Mostly reds.”
“See if she’ll drop by a bottle of Cabernet,” Vail said. “We’re gonna be here a few hours.”
Zheng smirked.
“Just kidding. I never drink when I’m on the clock.” Except when I did. In Napa. Once. Or was it twice? “So here’s the floorplan.” Vail swiveled the laptop to the left so both Rodman and Zheng could see. “Master is on the second floor, far right of the house.”
They looked it over a minute then discussed their approach, which involved taking Lansford in the middle of the night. He had no alarm system, that much they knew from the permits, so they would make a stealth entry, inject him, bag him, and carry him out.
Rodman made a phone call and scheduled a helicopter with infrared sensors to do a flyby to confirm that Lansford was the sole occupant of the residence.
Twenty minutes later, they were notified the chopper was approaching. They were told to patch into the air unit’s video feed and seconds later Vail, Rodman, and Zheng were watching as it hovered over the target house.
Vail leaned forward, studying the green-hued imagery. Because she was familiar with the home’s layout she was able to roughly identify the rooms.
“How come I’m not seeing any hot spots?” she asked.
“Good question.” Zheng got on the radio and confirmed that the helicopter was surveilling the correct address.
“Affirm,” came the response.
“That does look like Lansford’s house,” Vail said, “judging by the layout.”
“So why the hell’s no one home?” Rodman asked, his gaze fixed on the screen. He keyed the mic. “Circle back in twenty and do another pass.”
“Roger that.”
“Could he have left and we didn’t see him?”
Zheng’s fingers played across his keyboard and he pulled up a map. “Car’s in the garage.”
Vail stole a look. “You put a tracking device on his car?”
“I did, when I installed the kill switch. Just in case.”
“Then he’s gotta be there,” Vail said, “unless he went for a walk. Does he run?”
“No idea.” Rodman pulled out his phone. “We’re a little thin on intel, despite NSA’s best efforts. We just haven’t had enough time to gather a complete profile. Our kind, not your kind. I’m sending off a note to OPSIG, see if they can find out more about his habits. And I’ll have them ping his cell.”
Several minutes later, Rodman’s phone vibrated. He answered, listened a second, then said, “You sure? How—” His shoulders rolled forward. “Got it.”
Vail wiggled her fingers as he hung up. “What’s the deal?”
“Phone’s off. And we can’t listen in through the mic because apparently he pulled the battery. A few handsets have that capability. And coincidentally—or not—he uses one of those models.”
“So he’s on to us,” Zheng said.
“Not necessarily. According to his carrier logs, looks like he removes the battery every day after work.”
Vail cocked her head. “Who does that?”
“Someone who doesn’t want any chance of being tracked.”
“Lansford’s not a fugitive.”
“But he might be a spy.”
Vail started to object—she felt it was a generalization that might or might not be true. It was easy to fall into the pitfall of making the facts fit your suppositions rather than looking at the facts objectively and drawing well-reasoned conclusions.
But Zheng held up a hand. “Spies are paranoid shits by nature. And by necessity. I know. I used to be one.”
The chopper returned, made another pass, and found the same result.
“Cleared to return to base,” Zheng said, then tossed the radio down.
“How about we get closer, put eyes on the house?” Vail asked.
“We could do that, but if he is a spy, he’ll be looking out for stuff like that. They’re naturally paranoid, remember? For all we know, he saw us tailing him and fled.”
Vail looked out into the darkening landscape. “Let’s hope that’s not the case. For now, I’d rather put it off for a day when we can pick our spot than take a chance on losing him forever.” Not sure how McNamara’s gonna take a delay. But hey, it’s not my call.
“You agree?” Zheng was talking to Rodman, who nodded. “Fine. We’ll camp out here for a few more hours, take turns walking by his house and doing a visual. If things don’t look like they’re in our favor, we’ll be back at his office early tomorrow morning in a different van and do this all over again.”
I told them we could use a bottle of Cabernet.
14
Astronaut Training
Vandenberg Air Force Base
Uzi and DeSantos had been working at breakneck speed. There was no more jesting, no more small talk, except at lunch and dinner—and sometimes even those short intervals were spent discussing the finer points of what they had learned during the day. Carson and Stroud were helpful, providing perspective and answering questions based on their own experiences during the past year and a half.
After their initial orientation to the Orion crew module, Uzi and DeSantos practiced various types of escape scenarios, including NASA’s new launch abort system—designed to shoot them far and wide in an instant upon discovery of an impending catastrophe on the launch pad or shortly after liftoff.
Following lunch, they trained with Carson and Stroud for the first time, working on water-based exfil drills following splashdown.
Between them, Uzi and DeSantos would have made a complete astronaut: Uzi picked up the technical and scientific aspects of the mission and DeSantos was quicker with the strategic and pressure suit–related duties.
Uzi’s first foray with the suit did not go as well as he had expected. The successive formfitting layers caused his movements to become more and more restricted. Finally, when they locked the helmet into place he had a bout of claustrophobia for the first time in his life.
He did his best to hide it—his face was, after all, not visible through the mirror-like glass. However, his blood pressure and pulse rate skyrocketed, his respiratory rate quickened to an unhealthy rate, and Kirmani ordered the helmet removed.
Although Uzi was embarrassed and felt concerned his reaction might threaten the mission, Kirmani reassured him that his response was normal and most astronauts experienced it. “But you better control it, and control it right now. Because we don’t have time for you to get acclimated to it. You can either do this or you can’t. Tell me now.”
Uzi felt like slugging the man—if he could have controlled it, he would have—but hid his disdain and told Ridgid he would be fine.
His second attempt went better, and by the evening he had learned how to deal with the anxiety before it overtook him: he had them increase his oxygen flow rate, which helped calm him by lessening the body’s autonomic response.
He suddenly understood what Karen Vail went through. Her claustrophobia was long-standing and not restricted to a pressure suit.
After dinner, Kirmani took them to the adjacent building where the Orion crew module mockup was housed. He stopped on the far side of the massive warehouse-like space in front of a rectangular machine that was the size of a large microwave oven.
“Either of you know what this is?”
“A 3D printer,” Uzi said. “It’s revolutionizing manufacturing.”
“Gold star for you,” Kirmani said.
Uzi looked at him. Was that a dig for his claustrophobic incident? He gets a gold star for answering correctly and redeeming himself?
“Never seen one,” DeSantos said. “Don’t quite understand why it’s called a printer. What’s it printing?”
“It uses a somewhat similar concept to the early HP and Canon inkjet printers, but instead of spraying ink, it lays down plastic or metal. Technical term is additive manufacturing. NASA has been working on 3D printing since the early 2000s. They started out making tools and replacement parts out of metal and ceramic powders, using lasers and computer-aided 3D CAD software.
“The idea is that you make items by printing layers on top of each other—additive—instead of the typical manufacturing process of carving something out of a block—subtractive. The parts produced in these 3D printers are identical to, and in some cases superior to, traditionally manufactured components.”
“The advantages are obvious for spaceflight,” Uzi said. “You can replace any broken part by using the printer and raw materials you bring with you—or, in some cases, use minerals from the planet you’re visiting.”
Kirmani was nodding.
Uzi wondered if he just earned another gold star.
“Point is,” Kirmani said, “you don’t have to bring a million spare parts with you—which is physically impossible. Remember what we talked about regarding mass? Every pound is accounted for, so this is a huge breakthrough in terms of the ability to colonize Mars. We’ve already used these printers on the space station. And the European Space Agency’s propulsion engineering section has used 3D printing to build the extremely complex shapes and internal geometry required by rocket nozzles, combustion chambers, and showerhead injectors.”
“I assume we’ll be taking one of these with us?” Uzi asked.
“You will indeed.”
15
Fairfax, Virginia
The cell phone was ringing. Vail heard it in her dream before her brain yanked her to consciousness. In the process of grabbing the Samsung, she accidentally pulled the charging cord from the device.
“Yeah,” she said, too groggy to check the caller ID.
“Is that how you address the FBI director?”
Vail’s eyes widened and she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “Sir.” She coughed, tried to shake the cobwebs. “Sorry.”
“Are you awake?”
“I am now. I got to bed at four—”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in one hour.”
An hour? What the hell time is it? Early. It’s early. Glanced at the clock: 6:59 AM. “How about ninety minutes? Traffic—”
“This is not a negotiation.”
“Um, okay. Right sir. Okay, I’ll—”
“A car will be at your door in fifteen minutes. Be in it and be here by eight.”
“Yes, will do.” But she was talking to a dead line.
“Who was that?” Robby Hernandez, her fiancé, stepped into the bedroom as he knotted his tie. Their chocolate standard poodle, Hershey, jumped on the bed and gave Vail a big dog kiss on the cheek.
“No one important. FBI director.”
“No one important.” Robby laughed, but his smile faded immediately. “Are you working another OPSIG case?
“Can’t say.”
Robby turned back toward the bathroom. “You just did.”
VAIL ARRIVED AT 7:59. She had managed to shower and dress but did not have time to dry her hair. At least she remembered her Glock and phone.
When Vail walked into Knox’s office in the Hoover building, he was pacing in front of the seventh-story picture window. He did not turn to face her. “There’s been a new development. A kidnapping.”
Vail stood there waiting for him to elaborate. It was as if he wanted her to know—but did not want to tell her. “Who, sir?”
“Lukas DeSantos. Someone close to him contacted me directly. She reported him missing under suspicious circumstances.”
So this is a brother? Father? Cousin? A son I don’t know about?
“You’re catching me at a disadvantage. Is Lukas—”
“Hector’s father.”
“And how could this person close to him contact you, the FBI director, directly? Do you know her?”
“I know Lukas DeSantos. Very well.”
Um … okay … weird that Hector never mentioned that. “Do Lukas and Hector talk to each—”
“That’s a story for another time. Right now, all you have to understand is that I’ve known Lukas for thirty years. He’s a war hero, a protégé of General Schwartzkopf, another highly decorated—”
“Wait a minute. We’re talking about General DeSantos?”
Knox stopped pacing and faced her. “Yes.”
Vail worked that through her thoughts. “So for him to go missing, to have been kidnapped, if that’s the case, is—”
“Disturbing. Very disturbing.” He looked out the window into the distance. “He’s due to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom next week.” He pressed a button on his keyboard and the large flatscreen on the wall lit up. “We received a proof of life video.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“Support personnel found a USB drive on the steps to the Washington field office. Once they saw what was on it, they handed it over to an agent with the Joint Terrorism Task Force, Hoshi Ko. She works with Agent Uziel—”
“Yes sir. I know Hoshi.”
“Ko recognized the general and gave it to her military liaison on the task force.”
“Surveillance video show who dropped the flash drive?”
“Busy field office, lots of traffic. We watched it, but … no.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Knox launched the video. “It’s actually a gif file. Seconds long and automatically looping.”
Vail saw a man on his knees, in clear contrition to his captors. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut.
“He looks like shit,” Knox said. He rapped his fist against the table. “Sons of bitches. We’ve gotta find him.” He closed the file.
Vail eyed him a moment, trying to process everything. “Any metadata in the file?”
“Scrubbed.”
“So these people are pros—or at least tech savvy.”
Knox nodded but was clearly preoccupied.
“Are you thinking it’s somehow related to the medal cerem— No. Operation Containment?”
“Hector is training for a mission that’ll take him to the Moon on a black op to prevent China from getting its hands on a dangerous weapon that no one else has. And his father is suddenly reported missing. I think I can draw a straight line between those two statements.”
“There’s more to this.” She wanted to add, “Isn’t there?” but she knew the question would only be rhetorical.
Knox began pacing again. “Lukas DeSantos is a retired four-star general. He has a lot of enemies in the Middle East, but also two other countries whose leaders don’t particularly care for him: China’s president Jao Ping and Russia’s president Yaroslav Pervak.”
“And why is that?”
Knox stopped pacing and again turned to the window. It was unnerving staring at his back. Since she had gotten to know him—superficially, at least—she figured he probably wanted it that way. “They have unfinished business. And Lukas founded an immensely successful defense contracting outfit. DDI.”
“I’ve heard of it. I had no idea.”
“The official corporate name, which no one uses, is DeSantos Defense Industries.” He spun around. “So we have something new to investigate. Where are you on the mole?”
“Going slower than we’d hoped.”
“We need it to go faster.”
So I’ve been told.
“Sir, what do you think they’re after?”
<
br /> “Not sure. Depends on who took him. But I doubt money is the motivator.”
“Retribution then?”
“Can’t rule it out.”
“If it is related to Containment, I would think it’s about leverage.”
Knox’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, then it could be aimed at me. Because of my position, statements I’ve made about China’s cyberattacks. China’s been engaged in a widespread effort to acquire US military technology and classified information for several years. That stealth jet they now have—the Chengdu J-20—is a near-copy of our F-22 stealth fighter jet. They stole our F-22 and F-35 blueprints during a cyber breach in 2008. Not to mention industrial espionage—stealing the trade secrets of our companies, both here and those operating in China. Theft of American intellectual property has hit $1 trillion, so it’s a big goddamn deal.”
“I’m not plugged into the Bureau’s efforts to stop the cyberattacks,” Vail said. “But I’ve read some declassified briefings over the years.”
“The Chinese government has been using this tech and information to help support its long-term military and commercial development. It’s part of China’s—and Russia’s—national policy to identify and steal sensitive US technology, which they need for their country’s development. When a large US tech firm enters the Chinese market, they’re usually forced to turn over technology in exchange for the ability to set up shop in China. We’re talking 2 billion consumers, so the companies don’t see a choice. They give the Chinese previous-generation technology, but China’s infrastructure has matured to the point where they’re able to rapidly build on that foundation and turn out products that compete with, or surpass, their US counterparts. It’s like making a deal with the devil. So to speak.”
“And you’ve testified before Congress on this.”
“More than once.” Knox paused. “I’ve been the administration’s most outspoken critic of the ransom companies have to pay for the right to operate in China. I’ve also publicly called out the Chinese for their state-run cyberattacks on US institutions—government databases and corporate networks.”
Dark Side of the Moon Page 10
