by Glen Carter
“Where’d you find him?” Jack said again.
“The airport. It was the only place we could catch him.”
“More like an ambush,” Seth added.
“Where was he going?”
“Havana,” Kaitlin replied. Roberto Sevier was going home.
37
The city’s lights sank within the jet’s black wake as it climbed to ten thousand feet above the Florida Straits. The aircraft banked sharply, revealing a moonlit sea, and then pointed its nose directly at Havana.
The corporate aircraft was configured for humans and cargo.The seats forward were occupied by nearly a dozen souls and behind them the cabin was crammed with boxes, bare equipment, and cameras.
Most of those on board were supposed to be there, though two were hitchhikers. One of them had flown aboard this aircraft plenty of times. The pilot had embraced him warmly at the hangar and welcomed him aboard. “You can fly with me anytime.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Jack said. “We appreciate the ride.”
Charlie Foster was a beanpole, and Jack wondered how he was ever able to fit into the cockpit of an F-16,which he had done for many missions over Iraq. He still looked airforce, even as the captain of the network’s private jet.
Malloy had taken to the man immediately. Foster had shown Malloy around the fancy hi-tech cockpit, and then told them, “Wheels up in ten minutes. Stow your luggage and help yourself to anything you can find in the galley. Though, it’s not like the old days, Jack, when we stocked your favourite scotch.”
“Don’t worry, Charlie. We’re good,” Jack smiled.
Ten minutes after take off, Kaitlin was asleep. Across the aisle, Malloy and Maria were strapped in. Malloy had his game face on. Before leaving Miami, he placed a call to Lacy and the detective confirmed what they’d expected. A warrant had been issued for the arrest of Roberto Sevier in connection with the drive-by shooting. For the moment, Sevier was wanted for questioning only, but Lacy told Malloy a grand jury was possible. That meant Sevier was officially on the lam. Malloy advised Lacy that Sevier had fled the country and he’d be smart to get the state department involved. Lacy told him to “mind his own business.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jack had agreed with Malloy’s assessment, which meant only one course of action. Malloy jumped on it without hesitation. “Let’s show the bastard what the long arm of the law really means.”
Kaitlin called New York and was informed that Walter Carmichael was nowa heart patient. Out of touch, she was told. No phone calls, no emails, no contact. The network brass had placed Simmons in charge, which meant he was making the decisions. McCoy was in and she was out. She cursed the bastards and got busy packing. That’s when Jack told her what he needed to do. Kaitlin had seen Jack’s impulsive side. The assignment in Colombia that nearly got them killed had been one of Jack’s spur-of-the-moment adventures. The CNS jet was leaving in ninety minutes and Jack also planned to be aboard. He and Malloy. Jack called anumber he knew by heart and when he hung up the phone they had two seats in the bag.
“Good work,” Malloy said, sweeping a meaty hand across the crew cut that forever branded him a cop. “One question. How do you propose we find our man?”
Jack already knew the answer. Hemade another phone call that lasted nomore than three minutes. Malloy wasn’t totally satisfied, but he gave Jack the benefit of the doubt. Hell, they’d figure it out when they got there. One thing they did know. There was nothing to stop Malloy from asking the questions the MPD wanted answered, even if they were being asked outside the country. Sevier had fled their jurisdiction, which made him a fugitive. Jack, of course, wanted him for other reasons, involving face time in front of a camera, whether he liked it or not.
It had taken no time to pack, and Malloy brought the rental around while Jack spent a moment with Kaitlin alone in their room. She said, “I suppose it makes no sense for me to point out that you’re probably breaking any number of laws. There is no extradition agreement with Cuba. Even if you’re able to corner him, Sevier could laugh in your face, maybe have you both arrested as illegal bounty hunters or something.” Kaitlin’s soft features pleaded with him to reconsider. She reached up and gently touched his face. “Honey, I’ve got a lot onmymind right now. You sitting in a Cuban jail isn’t going to make my job any easier.”
Jack knew shewas right, and for amoment he felt a pinch of guilt. “I suppose it would be a waste of time to say you needn’t worry.”
“Jack.”
Jack stepped away from her. “Sevier is everything,” he said. “Without him, I have nothing. Just a curious photograph from a long forgotten witness at Dealey Plaza.”
Kaitlin shook her head in frustration.
“Sevier was Rasconi’s cellmate,” Jack said. “He has answers.”
“And you just expect himto spill it?”
Jack didn’t have an answer to that. Maybe she was right. For a moment, his enthusiasm was depleted. Had he been too wrapped up in things to accept his miserable reality? He was unemployed, his chances of a contract dwindling by the day, shit, by the hour. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from his agent for a few days now.
Kaitlin stared deeply into his blue eyes then pulled into him. The smell of her hair, her skin. The soft pressure of her embrace. All of it was a wave washing over him. Finally, she said, “Darling. If there is anyone on this planet capable of cracking this story, it’s you.”
“Thanks for the confidence, butmaybe you’re right. Maybe I’m way overmy head.”
Kaitlin shook her head. “No. I know what you’re capable of. I’ll never forget Joey Baggs.”
Jack remembered the monster, too. The death row interview. Joey Baggs was twenty-four hours from lethal injection and still refusing to reveal where he’d buried three of his six victims. It was what the families wanted most, even more than they wanted Baggs to die. Jack spent an hour with him and once he’d gotten everything he needed on camera, he spent another twenty minutes alone with the psychopath. When Jack came out, he looked exhausted. On a piece of paper, not in Jack’s handwriting, were the exact locations of three bodies.The long-suffering families buried their loved ones and Jack attended all three funerals. He never revealed how he had gotten the information from the cold-blooded bastard who had raped and murdered half a dozen women across four states. But, he had done it even though the families, the cops, and the courts had tried, and been laughed at, for more than a decade.
The jet aircraft sliced through rough air, causing Kaitlin to stir. Maria was busy with her notes and Seth was at the back of the aircraft with one of the propeller heads checking out the satellite uplink gear.
Malloy didn’t look like hewas enjoying the flight. Jack wondered whether them an ever felt comfortable outside of a black suit and crisp white shirt.
He leaned across the aisle. “How much longer?”
“The head’s in the back.”
“I don’t need a head. How much longer?”
Jack could have easily calculated. Cruising speed of aircraft applied to the distance. But five minutes ago he felt thrust being bled off the engines. Charlie was setting up for his approach. “Not long,” he told Malloy.
“Will we have the information we need when we get there?”
“I hope so.”
“Hope doesn’t cut it, Jack.”
“We’ll see.”
“Great.”
The aircraft touched down gently and taxied to a spot outside a private hangar at Jose Marti International Airport. The engines wound down and a moment later, Charlie popped the door. The aircraft filled quickly with warm, humid air.
Jack followed Charlie out of the jet, trailed by Kaitlin and the rest. The guys from CNS emerged, toting large black cases. They weren’t in any mood for talking since they had about a ton of gear to unload and hours of work to do. A truck pulled up next to the aircraft and the unloading began. Then another vehicle pulled up. Two customs guys got out and Charlie went over to greet them
. Papers were shown and then Jack saw an envelope change hands. He’d seen it plenty of times before. The customs guys gave them and the aircraft the once over, hopped into their vehicle, and drove off.
“Good thing the rum and the cigars are cheap, because they weren’t.” Charlie marched back to the aircraft to grab his bag. A van came to a stop next to the aircraft. Charlie walked to the back, opened it, and motioned for everyone to throw in their stuff. “Fixer’s here, people. He didn’t come cheap either.”
Charlie got in the front and everyone else jumped into the back. They were introduced to a stump of a man named Pablo. Bald with wide set eyes, a thick broad nose, and a moustache. He nodded, put the van in gear, and stomped on the gas.
In the distance, powerful klieg lights illuminated the tarmac. The airport was a fortress. Soldiers were everywhere. Everything was in motion. Purposeful.
Aircraft were coming and going, several were nose to tail waiting for ramps. Aside from the routine flights and charters, Jack spied a pair of big black C-130s. They would have brought in the Secret Service vehicles, their gear and weapons. Also, the President’s heavily armoured limousine otherwise referred to as the “Beast.” Somewhere right now there was a command post at which sleepless nights were being spent. There were hundreds of highly trained agents, intelligence specialists, and counter sniper teams. Not far from the C-130s, several corporate jets were lined up, their tails showing network logos from around the world. Jack smiled. The pack was gathering.
“Looks like an invasion,” Malloy said.
“An occupation,” Jack replied.
A minute later they drove towards a gate leading out of the secure area. A pair of military vehicles blocked their exit. Pablo stopped. Armed soldiers approached. They circled the van, peering inside. Kaitlin gripped Jack’s hand. One of the soldiers walked to the driver’s window. Pablo handed him papers and spoke a few words. There’d be no problems if the fixer had done his job. A few moments later they were permitted through.
Military vehicles dotted the route to downtown Havana. Twice they ran into bottlenecks where vehicles were being randomly checked. The ride should have taken about thirty minutes, though it was nearly an hour later when they pulled up outside their hotel across from the city’s historic Central Park. The luxurious building faced the towering neo-classical dome of El Capitolio, once the Cuban legislature, now the headquarters for the Academy of Sciences. The van was quickly emptied with the help of no less than four uniformed doormen. Seth had to wrestle his most valuable possession from one of them. “No one touches the camera, amigo.”
Maria spoke briefly with Pablo, who then said goodnight and promised to return bright and early the next morning. He jumped into the van and swerved around a horse drawn carriage, disappearing within a river of traffic.
The hotel lobby was palatial, running eight floors to an expansive glass ceiling. An open bar on one side was doing brisk business with tables sporadically tucked beneath large potted palms.
Check-in took another ten minutes and once their luggage was deposited in their rooms, they met downstairs. Charlie Foster left them for a gaggle of flight attendants standing on the fringes of the lobby. They swallowed him up with warm hugs and then the whole crew dragged him to an empty table.
Seth grinnedwryly. “Flyboys,” he said, “get more girls than anyone. Even cameramen.”
“I believe camerapersons is the correct term,” said Maria, with a chuckle.
Kaitlin nodded. “Get with the program, Seth.”
“Right.”
Jack stepped to one side to use his cellphone. He punched in a series of numbers and after listening to a symphony of beeps and buzzing, the call went through. Dwayne Mesner answered on the fourth ring. “Ola,” he said. “How do you like your room?”
Jack laughed. They’d been upgraded to a sumptuous suite. A massive bouquet of exotic flowers sat on a polished credenza along with a bottle of seven-year-old Havana Club and a box of fine cigars, Jack’s favourite. “I suspected that was your handiwork. Kaitlin did her happy dance. Thankfully, I got the credit.Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem. I’ll just spend tonight alone thinking of you enjoying the dividends of my hard labour.”
Mesner’s voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. Jack tucked into a corner and pressed the phone tight to his ear.
“About Senor Sevier,” Mesner said.
“Go on.”
Mesner couldn’t possibly provide the information Jack needed without going into great detail on how he had obtained it. Two sources had been hacked. Cuba’s central visitor’s bureau kept a database containing the names of everyone who passed through customs. That database contained citizenship and other details including the visitor’s destination hotel, length of stay and reason for the visit.
“Sevier wasn’t anywhere in the database.”
“Whaddya mean he wasn’t there?”
“It’s like I said. No where in that database could I find the name Roberto Sevier, Miami, Florida, yada, yada.”
“Strange.”
“Very weird, considering a communist state likes to know who’s in country, especially if you’re a pig-dog capitalist like Roberto Sevier. And before you ask, the database would show if he’s come and gone already. It means Sevier was able to bypass normal entry procedures.”
Jack agreed. But he also wondered whether Sevier had lied to Kaitlin about his destination. “You said you targeted two sources,” he said. It was Mesner’s preference to draw things out. Theman had an appreciation for the slow reveal, not surprising since he spent his days in a world of keyboards and flat-screen monitors, absent of human contact. He got his drama where he could, his theatrics. Jack found it frustrating, but played along as Mesner’s one-man audience.
“Two targets. Yes.”
“Continue.”
Mesner’s voice jacked up a bit. “Hey, you remember Hans Breiker?”
Jack remembered him. Hewas a hacker who had screwed a halfdozen major credit companies out of millions of dollars.
“A buck an account, remember?” Mesner said. “Who’d notice a dollar?”
“Ya. He funnelled the money to a bank in Switzerland. Then some old lady in Vermont got pissy about the unexplained dollar on her credit card statement.”
Mesner laughed across the vast distance between them. “The tall foreheads got pissy too, when they discovered the same accounting anomaly for millions of card holders. It was a security and public relations fiasco.”
“Breiker still in?”
“Paroled six months ago.”
Jack looked around the hotel lobby. Seth was trying to cultivate one of Charlie Foster’s flight attendants. Kaitlin and Maria had their heads buried in their Black Berrys. Malloy was having a drink at the bar. “So your point,” he said.
“Sometimes, I get to work on special projects,” Mesner replied. “They bore the fuck out of me, but they help build my profile as a legitimate ‘security consultant’.”
Jack knew it wasn’t unusual for financial institutions to contract the criminals who routinely breached their security systems. Kind of like hiring the fox to guard the hen house. He also suspected Mesner would have taken great advantage of the opportunity in other ways.
“They let you in, Dwayne?”
“Full access,” he replied.
Jack imagined Mesner with hismouth full of feathers.
“They got what they wanted. I found a bunch of weak spots in their networks and closed them up tight. What Breiker did can’t be done anymore. So I earned my pay.”
“But you left something behind.”
“Yeah. I did.” A moment was spent listening to the crackling and hissing of the phone line.
Jack already knew what the hacker had left behind. A way back in.
Mesner continued. “Kinda left a door open cause sometimes I want to get in to make sure no one’s been fucking with my fixes. I’ve got a good work ethic when it comes to that sort of thing. You
understand.”
“Sure do.”
“Anyway,” Mesner said, wanting to get on with it, “it was just a hunch, but I went hunting for our boy, and bingo, there he was. Sevier Holdings, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Corporate platinum card in the company’s name. And very active lately.”
Jack pumped a fist. “Yes!”
Mesner didn’t miss a beat. “I can tell you where he’s staying. Where he’s spending, fuck even where he had dinner tonight. Actually it’s not far from where you’re standing.”
Jack grabbed a pen while Mesner told him the name of Sevier’s hotel. “That’s great, Dwayne. I owe you.”
“Bigger than you think, buddy.”
“There’s more?” Mesner was full of surprises.
“Oh, yeah. There’s more. You know me. I’m like a hound. Get me going and you never know what I’ll sniff out.”
Jack shivered at the thought of what this man was capable of. No one was safe, no secret secure. No matter how strong the walls, Mesner could break through. It was more than just sport to him. It was a mission upon which all things counted, but mostly his pride.
“Sevier’s credit-card balance is paid by a bank in the Cayman Islands, one of those banks that’s full of drug money. You wouldn’t believe some of the clients and the deposits they make on a routine basis.”
“I know,” Jack replied. “The money-laundering crowd.”
Mesner left the statement behind. “So I use some of Breiker’s tricks. The ones he used to direct his ill gotten credit card gains to his Swiss account, which by the way was invisible to the bank and the country’s financial oversight authorities. I’ve studied his methods and I can tell you the man is a genius. All you have to do is read some of the stuff he’s written about secure socket layers and encryption and you’d realize just how flawed bank websites really are. You’d never use their online services again.”
Jack sighed audibly.
“Okay, I won’t bore you with all the details, but a lot of the Cayman banks are run out of head offices in Zurich and the like, so they use the same online security protocols at their banks down south, and they’re just as weak and open to intrusion. It was a simple matter of finding the way in that Breiker used in Switzerland.”
