“I’m told China takes such public spankings very personally.”
“Yes they do.” He harrumphed. “Their ambassador let the secretary of state know just how pissed they were. So Lukas’s snatching could be a way of sending me a message. I’m sure their intelligence network knows all about my relationship with him.”
“One possibility. Yes sir.” Vail folded her arms. “But think like an interested party. Consider the context of what’s going on. As you said, there’s a valuable element on the Moon that’d give a foreign power a huge tactical advantage; Hector’s chosen for a mission to prevent that from happening; and we’re pretty sure a mole has been working for, or with, an actor or group of actors who appear to be a key contractor with access to the spacecraft that’s delivering Hector to the Moon. So we have to draw that line you mentioned before. And put all resources behind the most logical explanation.”
Knox pondered that. “Get over to Lukas DeSantos’s house and look around. I’ve got men stationed there to prevent entry. You’ll join a forensic team that’s been onsite for a few hours. Help them figure out what went down.”
“Yes sir.”
“You asked me what I thought the motive was. What do you think?”
Vail leaned both hands on the back of the chair that stood in front of her. “I think Containment is the key. They take Lukas, let Hector know they’ve kidnapped his father, and the ransom is … leveraging him to allow them to gain access to the caesarium. Or to make him do something to jeopardize the mission.”
“They could be thinking along those lines.”
“They don’t know Hector like we do. And we know Hector can’t be bought.”
“Yes …” Knox began pacing again and fell silent for a long moment. “Under normal conditions, I’d agree. Hector is as dedicated and honest as they come. But we’re talking about his flesh and blood. His father. A national hero. Even if Hector can compartmentalize that and not let the personal aspect of this affect his performance, it’s human nature to do the opposite.” Knox stopped and turned to Vail. “He can’t know. I don’t want Hector thinking about his father. He needs to be focused on his mission, which is tough enough. And without him knowing, there’s no leverage. Are we clear?”
I hate this. Pitting me against my friend. “Clear.” Vail curled a lock of red hair behind her right ear. “So let’s take this a step further. Hector’s at Vandenberg, an Air Force base. About as secure a place as there can be. But if they could find a way in, they’d go for the weak point. A way to communicate with him.”
“We’ve restricted internet and phone access,” Knox said. “They’re dark.”
“Then I’d look at insiders, people who can get a message to him.”
Knox nodded. “Good, yes. We’ll take appropriate measures. Cameras, guards throughout all areas where they’re training. It’s unlikely for them to be able to gain access to a secured facility like that, but …”
But it happened a few years ago in the run-up to the US election. And no one knew that better than Douglas Knox.
“I’ll get with the SecDef. They have procedures in place to lock the facility down.”
“There’s another way to play this, sir.” She could not shake the sense she was betraying her friend.
“Don’t keep it a secret, Agent Vail. That’s why you’re here.”
“We let them make the attempt to contact Hector, but in a way they don’t actually get through to him.”
Knox began to pace, absorbing her comment. “There’s risk involved in that—if they succeed, that could be problematic. It could disqualify Hector from the op, and I consider him key to this mission. We’re training two others as backup, but … losing Hector would be significant.”
“But the payoff could be big on the other end.”
“Convince me.” Knox stopped and turned to face her. “What do you have in mind?”
“Use covert means of watching over him. Cameras, strategically placed, separate from Vandenberg’s normal security apparatus. In case our bad actors try to use someone who knows about Vandy’s security measures, or has access to them in some way. It doesn’t have to be too elaborate, but we could use traditional CIA methods for covert surveillance. If an attempt is made to contact Hector, we get that person in a room—and he or she could lead us to whoever’s behind this.”
“Unless they’re a compartmentalized cell.”
Vail cocked her head. “That would make it a lot more difficult. It’d slow us down considerably, maybe lock us out completely. But … not necessarily.”
Knox shoved his hands in his suit pockets and stood there for a moment, then said, “Thanks for your input. I’ll take it under advisement.” Knox looked off at the blank wall to his left. There was nothing to see, but it garnered his attention. “Because of your investigative skills, I want you involved in locating Lukas. I’d rather keep this within OPSIG. We don’t know where this will lead and it could open some cans we don’t want opened.”
“If you do bring in people from outside the team, it’s best if you keep the group small. And select.”
“And controllable.” He nodded then said, “Leave your Bureau phone here. I’ll let your unit chief and ASAC know you’ll be incommunicado for a while.”
That’ll go over real well.
“By the time you get to your car Lukas’s address will be securely messaged to your OPSIG phone.”
ON HER WAY down to the parking garage, she called Rodman and told him she was leaving a meeting with the director and was on her way to investigate something that might or might not be related to their case. She would join them in about two hours.
“At the moment, we’re in a holding pattern. Our target did not show up to work today. We’re looking into it, but that can’t be good.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions just yet,” Vail said as she pulled out her keys. “There could be other explanations.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
“Keep me posted.”
She made good time to the address in Falls Church. But she was not prepared for what she encountered. She knew the area was exclusive and one of the wealthiest in the District, but this exceeded her expectations. As she drove along the winding, tree-lined road that led to the front of the residence, she estimated that the property covered several acres. Not a house. Not a mansion. An estate.
Vail checked in with the second layer of OPSIG personnel, who informed her that the forensic team was in the safe room. She slipped booties on and entered the large, brown slate-faced building. It was four stories tall and seemed to stretch fifty yards in both directions.
As she walked inside, she realized she had calmed considerably. She was in her environment now, standard police/detective work, possibly even some criminal investigative analysis. No covert ops with noms de plume, fake identification, and cover stories.
Vail checked in with the crime scene personnel and proceeded to do a walk-through before going over particulars with them. She wanted to form her own opinion without bias.
After spending thirty minutes outside walking the grounds to get a feel for the scope and sophistication of the attack, Vail traversed the first floor to evaluate the clues left behind by the intruders, including muddy boot tracks. By the time she rejoined the forensic team, she felt fairly confident of what had gone down.
Vail stepped back into the safe room and caught the attention of the lead technician. “Let me run my theory by you. Tell me if I’ve got something wrong, something that doesn’t jibe with the facts.”
“Shoot.”
“Armed assault. Several men overpowered the general’s security personnel with a combination clandestine and brute force attack, then made their way into the house and to the safe room. Judging by the straight path that they took from the entrance to where Lukas was hiding, they must’ve had detailed knowledge of the estate.
Access to the blueprints of the residence as well as the nuances of the bunker. Or it was an inside job.
“They got him to open the door—not an easy thing to do with a decorated general. But he tried to fight his way out.” She gestured at the blood and the walls, which were pocked with bullet holes and embedded rounds. “He ultimately surrendered, either figuring the fight was over or he had enough confidence in his abilities to think he’d find a way out, a leverage point, later. At that point, submitting to them had more potential for survival than eating a pound of lead.” She stopped and eyed the technician. “How’d I do?”
The man nodded. “Yeah, that looks consistent with what we’re finding here.”
“And judging by the drag marks in the blood, the general’s shots did some damage and they had to help their fallen men out of the house.”
The technician bobbed his head. “There’s a small blood trail leading out the back. So I’m not sure I can say how bad the gunshot wounds were. Oh—there’s a closed circuit security system installed. Cameras all over the property. But the hard drive that stored the footage is missing.”
“Missing?”
“Removed.” He gestured at a panel on the wall of the safe room. “These people knew what they were doing. I think you’re right, they had to have had the blueprints, or some other kind of insider knowledge. I guess it’s possible they got the general to tell them where the footage was being recorded, but I can’t imagine him giving that to them.”
“Agreed. Plus it sure looks like they made a bee line to the bunker. Nothing disturbed along the way. Judging by the boot marks and tracked-in soil, they marched in and right to the door. And the general knew to run to the room because he saw them on the cameras. Or one of his men warned him.”
Vail took out a pen and wrote down her OPSIG cell number—no Bureau business cards here. “Call me if you find anything unusual, anything that contradicts what we just discussed.”
“Will do.”
Vail left the premises, headed to her meet with Rodman and Zheng. But by the time she reached her car, Zheng told her that there was a change in plans.
VAIL MET RODMAN AND ZHENG at her house, where she picked up her go-bag. They left her car in the garage and drove to Andrews Air Force Base for a flight to New York City.
With some circumferential questioning by an OPSIG operative posing as an agent with the FBI cyber division, the Aerospace Engineering human resources director disclosed, without realizing it, that Jason Lansford had been dispatched to their Manhattan office for a meeting with a potential customer, Space Launch Consortium, which wanted to hire them to write code for their robotic lander’s operating system. The consortium had raised $50 million in funding and wanted to enter the Google Lunar XPRIZE, which could net them another $20 million.
“That explains why he disappeared from his house,” Zheng said. “We checked for an Uber or Lyft account, but it doesn’t look like he’s got one. Either a friend or a neighbor took him to the airport or he had a car pick him up.”
Vail felt the pull of the plane as it went wheels up. Two hours later, they arrived at the New York City offices of Aerospace Engineering, a sleek all-glass building on Park Avenue South. The logo, representing a planet and a rocket circumnavigating it with a vapor trail behind it, was visually striking. High profile location, high profile logo on a massive sign mounted where passersby could not help but see it.
They evaluated the physical premises—which they had previewed on Google Maps during the flight to DC—and it presented no surprises. Where proprietary secrets and billion dollar developmental contracts were concerned, security would be tight. The lobby incorporated physical barriers, armed guards, video technology, and biometrics. Trying to enter on a ruse would likely prove unsuccessful.
“According to Link,” Rodman said, “Lansford’s in meetings all day. We’ll have to grab him up at his hotel once he’s asleep. The company uses the Grand Hyatt on Forty-Second for out of town employees. Link found his booking.”
After arriving at the Hyatt and staking out the building, they constructed a plan of action and observed customer flow and staff procedures.
Of prime importance was determining which room Lansford had booked and gaining key card access. He had already checked in, which provided an opportunity. Posing as Lansford, Rodman asked the bellman—Miguel according to his gold nametag—to deliver his suitcase to the room. The bag was nothing fancy, just a basic black roller Vail had purchased at a nearby storefront and stuffed with tourist sweatshirts and knickknacks.
Rodman checked his watch, expressed surprise it had gotten so late, and said he had a meeting in ten minutes. After palming Miguel a crisp twenty, he backed away as the bellman assured him he would take care of it.
VAIL, WHO WAS OBSERVING the transaction from across the large, open lobby, followed Miguel into the elevator and up to the twenty-second floor. She took note of the room he entered and kept walking, then took the stairs down.
To avoid attracting attention, Vail parked herself at various locations around the hotel with a laptop and a club soda. Rodman and Zheng came and went at different times, moving with the flow of patrons. They rode the elevators, then disappeared into Grand Central before repeating the process.
A little after nine o’clock, Lansford entered the hotel with two individuals, whom Vail identified as colleagues from Aerospace Engineering’s New York office. They sat in the bar and drank for another two hours. He then bid the two men goodnight and retired to his room.
Vail called Rodman and Zheng. “He went up.”
“Give it ninety minutes, then check it out.”
She hung up. Once they were certain Lansford had shut off his light and fallen asleep, they would go to work.
VAIL WALKED TO the end of the corridor and called Rodman. “All’s quiet. Last time I checked the TV was on. He was watching some late night talk show. Went by again twenty-five minutes ago. It’s off. Should be in dreamland by now.”
“Copy that. We’ll give it another thirty to be sure.”
When the elevator doors parted and Rodman and Zheng exited, they were wearing different outfits from what they had on earlier in the evening. Rodman had a brimmed hat pulled low and Zheng a Knicks ball cap.
“No security cameras I can see,” Vail said, remaining down the hall as the two men passed her en route to Lansford’s room. “I think we’re good.”
“At two in the morning, it’s gonna be fairly quiet on the floor.”
“Which means you guys have to be quiet when you get into his room.”
“No worries,” Rodman said in a low voice. “This isn’t our first abduction.”
Did he have to say that? Jesus.
“Remember,” Zheng said. “Any problems, three quick knocks on the door.”
“I remember.”
“Good.” Zheng elbowed Rodman and they headed down the hallway toward Lansford’s room.
RODMAN REMOVED THE tiny RFID card reader he had placed on Lansford’s room door earlier in the day. There was a bit of a risk it would be discovered, but the “skimmer” was constructed to blend in with the most commonly used hotel room doorknob hardware, so the chances of discovery were minimal. He then called guest services and asked for an extra blanket and pillow to be delivered to the room, forcing the staff to use—and thus duplicate—the card’s digital contents.
Rodman and Zheng replaced their hats with ski masks and moved into place outside the door.
They entered the room and in a few quick strides were alongside Lansford’s bed. There was a woman next to him, sleeping in his arms.
She would need to be dealt with in a way to give them time to get far enough away before law enforcement was notified. Either way, short of killing her, which they preferred not to do, this was an unwelcome complication.
Zheng emptied the syringe into Lansford before the man could thr
ash too heavily—though his movement was enough to wake the woman. Her eyes bulged and she opened her mouth to scream.
But Rodman’s large, gloved hand clamped down across her lips and muffled the cry.
It was then that he realized they had a major problem.
The man Zheng had just injected was not Jason Lansford.
16
Undisclosed Location
Lukas DeSantos awoke in the back of a van, hogtied and on his stomach. He had no idea what time it was—or even what day. The only thing he could determine was that they were traveling on some kind of secondary road that was rough and pocked with potholes.
And there were three masked men in the back with him.
“Look who’s awake,” one of them said.
Lukas’s head ached and he still felt drowsy. “What do you people want?”
“We want you to shut up. We’re not interested in conversation.”
He tried to roll onto his side but he was sore—his back, his legs, his face … everything hurt.
“I can get you money, if that’s what you want. Give me a phone and I’ll have it wired right into your accounts.”
They did not reply.
Lukas knew he had to get them talking. The more he could learn from them the more information he would have, information that could eventually tell him who he was dealing with, what they wanted—and if they intended to let him live.
“Weapons? You want handguns, rifles? What?”
No answer.
He craned his neck as far as he could to the left. “You guys intending to kill me?”
“Depends,” the closest one said.
“On what?”
“Whether or not you stop talking.”
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, pressing ahead.
There was no way one of these “soldiers” was going to kill him. A larger plan existed—which no doubt relied on him remaining alive, at least in the short term. He just had to figure out what it was.
Dark Side of the Moon Page 11
