Both Stanton and Max were aware the touchpad was multi-functional. Not only was it used for fingerprint security access, it also functioned as a QR reader to scan the QR code.
“Why did you need the watch? You said you downloaded the backdoor code from the cloud.”
“I lied.” He smirked. “I only had access to upload, not download.”
“Where’s the watch?”
“I assume he has it.” The mole glanced toward Stanton and shrugged his shoulders.
“Major, would you please retrieve this man’s personal belongings?”
Stanton did not want to leave the room at that point. “Let me call the sergeant?”
Max remained silent while he placed the call and the mole stared at the photos.
“He’ll bring them in a moment,” Stanton announced.
While they waited, there were a few more questions Max wanted to ask. They were not directly pertinent to the case, but she thought the answers could shed further light. “Why did you return to the encampment after Taylor?”
“Simon only gave me one QR code at a time. He changed the backdoor code for each facility. I had just received the one for Folsom when I was captured. That’s the one in the watch.”
“Why did you go along with Simon’s plan in the first place?”
The mole seemed the most hesitant to answer that specific question. But after pondering and reasoning he had nothing to lose, he unleashed a response. “While attending Harvard, Simon caught me changing grades for students in the database in exchange for tuition money. He agreed to say nothing, but promised one day he’d call in the favor. Years later, to my misfortune, I was contacted by Simon; he reminded me of the outstanding IOU.”
Max thought back to Noble’s tales of La Fratellanza and how Simon had used similar ploys in the past. Remarkably, it was how he engaged the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. Simon ultimately landed a position in the Department of Treasury commissioned to design the TARP system. It provided Simon the perfect opportunity to misappropriate billions of dollars that he manipulated for his cause.
“And then what?” she persisted.
“He soured the pot.”
“What does that mean?”
“He made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He found out somehow that my hacking days weren’t over and that I was siphoning funds from some unsavory characters. Let’s just say I’d rather wrestle with you guys than end up in a meat grinder. Anyway, he said he was going to get me a job with the Department of Homeland Security in their National Cyber Security Division, and I was to sit tight until he got back in touch with me. Shortly after settling into my new assignment—Simon called in the IOU. The rest you know,” the mole responded glumly.
There was a knock at the door.
Stanton answered and retrieved the bag handed to him. He walked over to the table, turned the bag upside down, and emptied its contents.
The mole attempted to reach for the watch, as Max held up her hand to stop him.
“Tell me where the code is stored.”
“It’s under the sliding panel on the back of the watch face.”
Max turned the watch over and slid open the panel. Displayed inside was a mosaic square. “Ingenious,” she said as she handed the watch to Stanton.
While Stanton perused the evidence, Max stared at the mole. She envisioned him out of the fatigues he was wearing and in place, black pants and white shirt with a black pencil tie. Definitely, a nerd, she thought, this is not your average terrorist. He is telling all he knows.
Stanton looked up from the watch and asked, “Deputy Director Ford, I’d like to ask a question.”
“Certainly, major.” At that point, Max had extracted all she could from the mole. Unquestionably, the information validated their concerns.
“From my earlier interrogation, you denied knowing the other recruits and their assignments. Do you hold to your statement?”
“Yes, except for the other techies. We were cordoned off from the others. Each day the same recruit would escort us back and forth from our dormitory to the command center. He would remind us that our work was highly classified and unknown to the others. So we were forced to take our meals in the dormitory and not in the mess hall and we had a separate courtyard for recreational activities.”
“So you never heard the others talking?”
The mole took a moment to compose his thoughts. Then he admitted, “On a few occasions we’d overhear conversations as we passed by a group. They’d talk about how they’d fight to keep their country safe. I thought it an odd statement—they were all Americans.”
Max turned to Stanton. They exchanged looks to acknowledge they had enough information.
“Please have the prisoner returned to his cell,” Max ordered. She quickly returned her stack of papers to her briefcase and left the room. At the end of the corridor, she encountered the sergeant and inquired, “I need to use one of the offices for about an hour.”
“Sure thing, Max. Follow me.”
19
WATCH FOR THE WATCH
Noble, we have our confirmation. Simon is heading east, first to Minnesota, then south to Indiana. And you were right that he’s hitting Mississauga last, assuming he stays his course.”
“Slow down Max. It’s great news, but do you know when and how?”
Max explained the results of her interview with the detainee. She elaborated on the mole’s task to download and install the backdoor. Then she explained how he would locate the program containing the failsafe code and proceed to upload a copy of the code to the cloud. Simon would later modify the code, if all went according to plan.
Noble could not help but wonder why Simon did not try to recruit the mole at Harvard, to join La Fratellanza, rather than try so hard to coax him. Perhaps, he was a backup candidate, but that was then. “You said that the code was in his wristwatch?”
“Yes, you’d have to admit it’s quite ingenious.”
“Quite.” Noble had a mind’s eye view of the gold watches Simon had presented to each of his La Fratellanza brothers. Each watch stored a copy of their thesis on a microchip. “Yes, Simon is quite ingenious.”
“The mole also said that Simon was scheduled to hit the St. Paul facilities on May ninth and then four days later change the code at the Carmel facility. Mississauga is scheduled for July fifth.”
“July fifth?”
“Yes, I questioned the date as well. He swears it is the fifth. So at least we know we have time on our side.”
“I’m not so sure. Simon is on the run and he might become desperate. He still has to hack into three systems, plant his backdoor, steal a snapshot of the failsafe code, and return later to install his bastardized version. He’ll need time. He could also accelerate the timing. We can’t be sure of the dates anymore. But why did he originally schedule lapses between breaches over several months?”
“The mole said he didn’t want to raise suspicion and have it look like sabotage, triggering an investigation. Noble, he also said Simon modified each failsafe code to include a specific date designed to shut down the grid. Those dates must already be hardcoded in the three control centers he has already compromised. Nothing has occurred thus far. It has to be a common date, or at least within proximity of each other, to inflict the greatest damage when the grids are shut down.”
“Brilliant, Max. I’ll have the FERC chairman gain me access to the individual operating systems at the facilities and to identify the location of the failsafe programs.”
“If anyone can crack the code, it will be you. You’ll find the date, boss. Then we’ll know exactly how much time we have to stop him.”
“I hope you’re right. Burke is already in hot pursuit of Simon, although up to now the leads are not definitive.
“At least we know that the New Year’s Eve bombings in Europe were a diversion.”
“We can’t be sure of that either. They still could be trial runs for future attacks. I spoke with Enzo earlier and he reported that
they’ve souped up security, and thus far no activity.”
Max knew that Enzo Borgini, the executive director of police services for Interpol, the International Criminal Police Organization, had been tracking Simon down for nearly as many years as Noble. First, he worked alongside Hamilton on the sting operation in Florence and later he worked closely with Noble in Lyon on the European New Year’s Eve assassination attempts, ultimately making the link to Simon. He has as much at stake as Noble does in wanting Simon put away permanently.
“I need to call Enzo back and pass along the descriptions of the other disguises and the names Simon may try to use.”
“You mean if we fail to capture him and he attempts to enter Europe.”
“I don’t want to contemplate that scenario. It’s almost certain Simon is planning to take down five major sections of the national power grid—creating a national emergency in the U.S.” Noble shuddered at the thought. He quickly switched gears. “How’s Stanton doing with the rest of the interrogations?”
“He has a few more to wrap up. I really haven’t had time to discuss it with him in detail. I am meeting with him later today. We can review his reports when I return tomorrow.”
“No Max, I want Stanton here tomorrow prepared for a full debriefing. Have him bring the watch with him.”
“Noble, I can bring the watch. I’ll be back in Washington in the morning.”
“There is something else I need you to handle. I want you to fly down south and interview Simon’s mother.”
“Down south, where?”
“She is in a nursing home in Orlando…” Noble stopped in mid-sentence. “Maybe that’s why Simon’s not hitting the Florida grid.”
“You’re trying to tell me Simon has a heart?” Max snickered.
“Of course, he has a heart. It’s slightly tepid, rather than stone cold.” “That’s more of a reason for you to interview her, not me. Noble, seriously, I need to be in Washington. We need to continue pouring over the evidence. We must stop Simon.”
He listened to her plea, but then insisted, “Max, she’ll be more receptive to you. Years ago, after La Fratellanza implicated Simon, Hamilton sent me out to Berkeley to interview the parents. It was a full-court-charm-press but nothing they told me was helpful. All I got from them was the usual. ‘My son leads a busy life…he travels a lot… he calls occasionally…we don’t know much about his business.’ I had a feeling at the time there was something they weren’t telling me, but nothing tangible enough for me to pursue further. Now she’s older, feeble, and alone, maybe you can get something out of her.”
Max succumbed. “How did you find her anyway?”
“Burke tracked her down.”
“What, Burke works for the SIA now? I thought he was going to head up the D.C. bureau.”
“Of the moment, Federal Agent Burke is on our team. He has been extremely helpful and he is one of the few people who are acquainted with the details of this case.”
“Noble, do you always have to play it so close to the vest? I understand it’s Simon, but you employ hundreds of minions who can do some of this work. Why is it always you, me, and Burke?” Max sounded tired.
Noble reacted calmly. “Look, we admittedly don’t have all the pieces. It may have to do with our national security. It may have to do with other rogue elements in the government. We need to be the first to learn what is going on, without diluting our efforts. We can handle this on our own for now, Max.”
“Burke found her, let him interview her.” It was not working. Max dug in her heels.
So Noble tried the opposite approach. “Max, we don’t know what the hell’s going on! Simon could be some Islamic fanatic or simply an Alinsky disciple! In either case, he’s dangerous!”
“Perhaps, he’s both.” Max answered in a calmer manner.
Noble lightened the conversation and quipped, “It’s starting to feel like a British bedroom farce. I can’t tell who’s sleeping with whom anymore.”
Max finally capitulated. “I agree we can’t comprehend what he’s planning if we don’t understand the underlying motives.”
“Go talk to his mother. You’ll only be gone one day. Two hours down. Two hours back. Leave first thing in the morning, you’ll be home by dinner.”
Max changed her tenor. “So tell me about her?”
In a paternalistic voice, Noble explained that Ann Hall was an investigative reporter for Emit Magazine, and later became a Professor of Journalism at Berkeley. Simon’s father died several years ago of a heart attack and Ann suffered a stroke that left her partially paralyzed. She now resides in the Guardian Care Nursing & Rehabilitation Center in Orlando.
“That’s all I know, except that I can count on you to find out the rest. And Max, go easy on her, she has a heart condition.”
“Great, now I’ll have to handle her with extra-soft kid gloves.”
“Thanks Max, my instincts tell me she has one of the missing pieces.”
“Are we finished?” She asked as she looked at her watch. She had fifteen minutes; she did not want to be late.
“Don’t forget to tell Stanton I want him in Washington tomorrow afternoon. And make sure he brings the watch.”
Max smiled as her mood softened. “I won’t. Good night, Noble.”
20
A MINOR INFRACTION
Max drove slowly looking for the address. She noticed the flashing neon sign on the right that read BAR and pulled into the nearest parking space. She sauntered into the saloon and walked over to the bar stool on the end. Without warning, she found herself caught in a warm embrace, one she admittedly enjoyed, although rarely.
“Hey, what can I get you?”
“A beer, please.” She puckered her nose as she perused the joint. “Why have you picked this place?”
“To be off base.”
Max flashed an impish smile. “Or to be on third base?”
Stanton shot back a mischievous grin and then changed the drift. “You were really great today. I had spent hours whacking at that guy and got nowhere.”
“I guess I had the advantage of solid evidence.”
“Well, it’s blatantly clear that Simon was provisioning the encampment for his protection—while in the process of attempting to paralyze our country.”
Max did not share her thoughts about Baari’s possible role, according to Hank, or that Baari could have set the stage for Simon’s plot. Stanton, and for that matter Burke, only knew that they were pursuing a notorious terrorist attempting to disrupt the electric grids. “What’s important is to stop him before he carries out his plan.”
“We did obtain some bizarre information from the other interrogations but the mole corroborated what we uncovered. I suppose the key element—is the code.”
“I filled Noble in. He’ll take it from here. Trust me, he’s the best.” Max veered from the subject. She no longer wanted to discuss the case. She had something else occupying her mind. “Are you really going to sign on to the president’s security detail?”
“Yeah, it will be a nice change. After three tours, I was reassigned to Dugway as a training instructor. It was a good gig, but now it’s time to move on.”
“You’ll be putting your life on the line every day for the president.” Max observed with genuine concern.
“I put my life on the line every day for my country. It’s the least I can do. Besides, I’ll be closer to you.” Stanton smiled and leaned over for a kiss, but he was too late.
Max pushed him back and warned, “Not too close.” Then she leaned in and retrieved the kiss she had craved. She was still waffling between entering a relationship and giving up a slice of her independence, not convinced she could manage both. Then there was her career that had always taken precedence.
“When do you have to go back to Washington?” he asked.
“Actually, Noble’s sending me to Orlando to speak with Simon’s mother.”
“He thinks she knows something?” Stanton quizzed, somewhat surpris
ed.
Max explained that Noble had interviewed her years earlier, but he felt she might be more willing to speak now that so much time had passed. “And she’s quite ill. It may be our last opportunity to uncover another piece of Simon’s puzzling life.”
“And he thinks you can add a woman’s touch.” he chided.
Max feigned a pout. She despised the excuse used to send her out on a case, but she admitted to herself that it usually worked. Her expression slipped back to her deputy director mode. “I may be going to Orlando, but you are going to Washington.” Max reached into her pocket and said, “Here, Noble wants you to deliver the wristwatch to him. And be prepared to brief him fully on the interrogations.”
It was Stanton’s turn to pout. “Then we’ll have to cut our evening short. I still have a few questions for our elite group of detainees.”
Max looked at her watch. “And I have an early flight.”
“Can you give me a ride back to the base?” Stanton asked.
“How did you get here?”
“I walked. It’s only three miles.”
“What, were you planning to walk back or were you planning to get a ride to my hotel?” Max played the interrogator.
“I had hoped for the latter.” He moved in for another kiss and then whispered in her ear, “I’ll make it up to you in Washington.”
“Pay the tab, Major.”
21
A MOTHER’S TORMENT
Max eased the door open gently and peered inside the room. Still, the noisy hinges were enough to awaken the elderly woman lying in the bed. Ann Hall was in her late seventies, although she appeared frail and much older. Her silver hair, pulled in a tight bun behind her head, provided no frame for her face, a colorless face that blended into the starched, white pillowcase. The pale blue eyes that gazed in Max’s direction provided the only color.
“Come in,” she spoke in a robust voice, belying the body.
“Mrs. Hall?”
“Yes. They told me I was to have a visitor today, but not one so young and attractive. Please sit down my dear.”
The Ultimate Revenge Page 14
