Devil's Move

by Leslie Wolfe

  “Hello, everyone,” Lou said and headed straight for the coffee maker.

  “Now that we’re all here,” Brian said, “let’s bring you two up to speed.” He gestured toward Sam and Lou. “We were saying that we have a couple of months of process time, with Alex’s interview schedule, background check, and onboarding, before we can even get started with the actual investigation. This is a concern to us because of the little remaining time to investigate and figure things out in the field before November. I was suggesting we use this time to get as much info about these vendor companies as possible, do a full background on them, and gather any intel we can.”

  “Yep, I’ll work with Lou on that,” Sam offered.

  “Alex,” Tom said, “did you have time to decide how you would deploy?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking of going to Taiwan first. One of the reasons is that hardware has an earlier due date than software. The other reason is that the UNSUB didn’t seem to care about the hardware, which could mean there’s nothing wrong with it. I should be able to confirm that quite easily. If that’s not the case, no matter how hard I try, I can’t think of ways to sabotage or booby-trap tablet-type devices other than by loading them with explosives. And that’s relatively easy to detect.”

  “What if they have software on them?” Lou asked. “Software that wasn’t in the spec?”

  “That should be fairly easy to check, because they’re supposed to be clean, only loaded with an operating system, networking drivers, and protocols. We can check every single one of them when they get delivered in the central warehouse in Utah for software installation. Just reminding everyone, they are expected to be delivered to InfraTech’s warehouse in Utah by August, leaving me very little time to inspect both vendor locations. That’s why I want to start with Taiwan. I’m not expecting to need more than a week there.”

  “Got you a new toy,” Brian said.

  “Oh, no.” Alex protested. “Look at this pile here,” she said, pointing at the devices still stacked on the table. “Where am I supposed to fit all that, plus generous amounts of toilet paper?”

  Sam nodded with large movements, underlining the importance of toilet paper.

  “And this thing,” she pointed at the Inmarsat, “weighs a ton!”

  “This one’s not so big, neither is it heavy,” Brian said. “It’s a bomb-sniffing handheld device. It goes with this,” he said, putting a pack of Oxy pads on the table.

  “Acne treatment?” Alex laughed quizzically.

  “Not really, but it looks like it. You take a pad out,” he demonstrated, “wipe the object of interest, and then place the pad in here.”

  The bomb-sniffing device was disguised as a small electronic alarm clock, complete with a functioning green display and snooze button. Brian opened the device’s battery compartment and placed the pad inside. He closed the battery compartment, then pressed the snooze button. The digits showing the time flashed once and remained green.

  “If these digits were to turn red that would indicate the presence of explosives. It recognizes trace amounts of chemicals that are used when handling explosives.”

  Sam whistled in appreciation. “Where do you get your devices? I would love to shop there.”

  “This one’s special order to my specs.”

  “Nice job, Brian,” Tom said.

  “Thanks so much, that will come in handy,” Alex said, studying the device up close.

  “Done with hardware already? Boys and their toys...” Steve said. “How are you doing with your immunizations?”

  A flicker of guilt showed on Alex’s face for a millisecond, but Steve caught it. His initial scowl turned into an expression of sadness and disappointment. Alex reacted to that.

  “I’m sorry. I got caught up with other things, but I promise you I’ll get right to it. I swear.”

  “The sooner you get those done the better. Your immunity will be stronger. Don’t delay anymore,” Steve insisted.

  “Nope, I promise. I’ll get them scheduled next week.”

  “This week,” Steve insisted.

  “This week,” Alex confirmed sheepishly.

  Silence took over the room for a few seconds. Alex stood and started pacing slowly in front of the timeline wall, back and forth, a frown on her forehead.

  “What’s on your mind?” Tom asked.

  “Umm...” Alex started to say hesitantly, clearing her throat. “There might be something else we need to discuss.” She stopped, thinking how best to present the facts to the guys. “I’ve been back from Vermont for a while and spent a lot of time exploring scenarios, possibilities, and options. There is one big question mark, and that is the transplant clinic’s system record for Melanie Wilton.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Tom asked. “We discussed the details when you came back from there. Any new developments?”

  “No, no new developments, just thoughts about it, that’s all. There are a few things that don’t add up.” She took a deep breath, then continued, “It’s just that there’s no logic to that record existing in the clinic’s system in the first place, that’s all. If you had performed an illegal heart transplant in the middle of the night, paid for it in cash, would you have put a record in the system to show everyone something was not entirely kosher about that patient’s procedure? No matter how hard I think about it I can’t find any logical explanation.”

  “You’re right; it makes no sense at all.” Tom agreed.

  Steve’s gaze was intense, anticipating more to it and not all good.

  “Unless,” Alex started to say, but Lou took over.

  “I’m thinking booby trap, or a silent alarm of sorts,” he said.

  “Exactly,” Alex said, “in which case we stepped in it and we got made.”

  “Would anyone care to explain for the rest of us?” Steve asked.

  “Let’s think for a minute. What would be the easiest way for UNSUB to know if anyone was looking to pick up the trail at the only point they could, Melanie’s transplant clinic? That’s where the trail starts, right? That’s why we started there.”

  “You mean they put the record in the system on purpose to track us?” Sam asked.

  “Precisely. Either by having some intrusion detection software watching that particular record or some other type of silent alarm deployed on that system. It’s my belief this trick gave them the heads-up as soon as we started snooping around. From that point forward, they could have been on to us with accuracy, while putting in a minimal surveillance effort to catch us. I think we’ve been made.”

  “Hell... I miss the old days of real covert work, gun in hand, moving in the shadows,” Sam said bitterly. “I don’t understand half of what you’re talking about. We haven’t even started our op, and you’re telling me we’ve been discovered?”

  “I think the UNSUB is definitely aware someone’s looking. There’s no other logical reason to have that record that I could find. Now, if the UNSUB is on to us, specifically, that’s a question for Lou. How careful were you?”

  “Very. I connected from behind the University of California San Diego firewall, so worst-case scenario, they have a general location for the source, such as La Jolla, San Diego, or even the university. That’ll throw them off for a while.”

  “Throw them off? They have our goddamn location!” Steve raised his voice, which rarely ever happened. “I’m pulling the plug on this, right now.”

  “And I’m not letting you,” Alex said, turning to him, amped up and ready to fight. She was not a kid anymore, and she wasn’t about to let anyone treat her as such, regardless of how well intended they were. This decision was hers and hers alone.

  “Alex,” Steve continued in a soothing tone, “I remember we agreed that if the situation got too dangerous, we’d pull out of this.”

  “Yes, we did, but it’s not too dangerous. Not yet. What do they have? A city? How would they even know that means anything? How would they know this is where we are? Lou could have logged in from Ne
w York, and it wouldn’t have meant more. You’re overreacting, Steve. I’m fine. We’re fine; we’re good to go.”

  “I’m not overreacting. These bastards are always a step or more ahead of everything we do. And we have Robert to think of. If someone looked at Melanie’s record, that could put her and Robert in danger. We’re gambling with their lives. Tom, please talk some sense into Alex.”

  Tom started to say something, but Alex cut in, not letting him utter a syllable.

  “Talk some sense into me? Now I’m mad, Steve; you’re crossing the line. I know what I signed up for, and we all knew it wasn’t gonna be easy. But this is my call and my call only. God damn it...” She leaned against the side table, almost tipping over the coffee machine. “All I have done in my life was for me, rarely for others. The core reason for anything I have ever done until now was to survive. Pay some bills, another month’s rent, eat a little bit better, get new shoes. This is my shot at doing something really important, that has meaning, that will add meaning to my entire existence. If everything I end up doing in this life is fight for my daily survival, how the heck am I different from an amoeba?

  “Don’t get me wrong, I am not the generous kind. I will never volunteer at some church or anywhere else for that matter. To me, that seems too small, and I know this sounds arrogant, but I can do way more than just organize bake sales. This is my shot to do something really worthwhile with my life. And yes, I am scared shitless. I know we’re walking on thin ice, and if that ice should break, I probably won’t survive. That, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t really matter, by comparison with what we’re trying to achieve.

  “We are fighting an unseen enemy who has tremendous resources and will stop at nothing to organize what could very well be the largest terrorist attack in our history. We are fighting to maintain our most important constitutional right, the right to vote safely, securely, in peace, without any fear. Families will go to the voting precincts together, Steve, families, taking their children along. This is not about preventing some localized attack that would harm one or two innocent bystanders. We could be looking at thousands of victims, maybe many more. This is the one time where almost every citizen of the United States will have to be at a certain location within a certain time frame. Can you see the proportions of that? Can you see the monstrosity of their plan?

  “The American people could be looking at never voting the same way again. Did you know people still don’t want to fly on 9/11? Each year, during the week of 9/11, airline ticket sales drop significantly. We are fighting to prevent that kind of scar on our nation’s identity, that kind of terror in our collective lives. We don’t know what the attack is gonna be about, or what it will look like, but we will find out. We will, I can guarantee you that. That’s why I’m not stopping now. I’m not pulling any plug, so Steve, I’m sorry to say but you’re either behind me one hundred percent, or you get out of the way.”

  Silence took over the room. Alex saw mixed emotions on Steve’s face. Hurt, concern, and admiration. She swallowed hard, tears coming to her eyes.

  “And that, my friends, is called courage,” Sam said.

  “Hear, hear,” Tom said. Brian smiled, looking at her slightly different than he normally did. Lou gave her a military salute, executed by the book, with a very serious expression on his face.

  “Good. Then we’re set. By the way,” she continued, “I don’t think Robert or Melanie’s lives are at risk at this point. I don’t think the UNSUB would touch them while the contract’s still in progress.”

  “I’d say that makes sense,” Sam said, “we can count on that logic for a while, but let’s not trip the alarms again.”

  ...Chapter 54: A Beautiful Plane

  ...Thursday, May 19, 8:57AM Local Time (UTC+2:00 hours)

  ...Letiště Praha-Kbely Airport—Air Traffic Control, Prague East

  ...Prague, The Czech Republic

  Jaro Zelezny rubbed his eyes for the tenth time since he had started his shift, less than an hour before. His back hurt, his abs and buttocks were sore, and he had slept less than two hours for the third night in a row. At this rate, his new girlfriend was going to kill him soon. But she was hot. She was hotter than he’d thought he’d ever find, and a total sex addict too. Jaro was still young, not even thirty-five yet, but he was feeling exhausted, worn out, and horny at the same time. There was no ending in sight. She was too damn hot. Her full breasts, her blonde, wavy hair, and those long, slender legs that wrapped tightly around him until he couldn’t breathe...He was getting an erection just thinking about her. How to say no to a girl like that?

  Jaro poured himself another cup of coffee, extra-dark brew and the third one in the last hour. He spent a few minutes considering the drugs he could take to keep up with her desires. No need for Viagra, not yet, anyway. Some vitamins wouldn’t hurt and a nap between flights. It didn’t seem like a busy day today, so it might be a good time to get caught up on some shuteye. He pulled a file folder in front of him, thinking he’d better deal with flight-plan approvals before napping so the phone wouldn’t wake him.

  A quiet day, indeed. Only one flight plan filed, for the new Piaggio Avanti EVO owned by that deli mogul or whatever he was. Jaro couldn’t get enough of that plane. He liked to watch it taxi, take off, and land. The elegance of its silhouette, the unusual wing design, the speed, and climb rate. He was in love. With a woman and with a plane. He already had the woman; he hoped one day he’d have the plane, or at least fly in it. His daydreams, when not filled with images of Helenka’s naked body, were populated by the Piaggio.

  The flight plan was more complicated than usual. He concentrated with difficulty, trying to follow what the plane was scheduled to do. Fly out of Prague-Kbely Airport, LKKB, home base, and into Aden Adde International, Mogadishu, Somalia, airport code MGQ, with a quick refueling stop in Turkey. Refuel in MGQ and pick up, umm...three cases of coconut oil, one case of sesame oil, and two cases of camel meat. Who eats that crap? Very rich people, apparently.

  Then the Piaggio would land here at home base, refuel, drop the sesame oil, pick up three cases of smoked oysters and four cases of various caviar assortments, and take off, heading to final destination BXM, Brunswick Executive Airport in Maine, United States. Of course, the Piaggio had to stop and refuel a couple of times before making it to Maine. But wasn’t it wonderful that it could cross the ocean all the way to America?

  Jaro slammed the stamp down, marking the flight plan “Approved” with red ink, then started toward the fax machine. Dialing the number indicated on the flight plan, he wondered if he could use the Piaggio’s stopover on its way back from Somalia to check it out on the inside, pretending to inspect the cargo. He just wanted to smell that fine leather, feel the softness of it, and see the cockpit with all the electronic displays. It seemed like a good idea.

  ...Chapter 55: A Bonding

  ...Friday, July 8, 5:12PM CDT (UTC-5:00 hours)

  ...Bobby Johnson’s Hunting Lodge

  ...Fox Lake, Illinois

  Anthony Fischer allowed himself to relax a little and took a taste of single malt Scotch. The lodge was beautiful, its large windows overlooking the lake and forested areas around it. A large deck surrounded three quarters of the lodge, equipped with long chairs and small tables. The summer air was mild and carried the scents of forest and wildlife, the sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing. Peaceful.

  His protégé was a charismatic host, making Dave Vaughn feel welcome and appreciated, just like he should. The two of them were hitting it off nicely and had a good chance to forge an enduring partnership, maybe even a friendship. Vaughn’s endless resources and determined support were priceless at this stage in Johnson’s campaign. Vaughn’s presence at Fox Lake was a testimony that he was prepared to make a long-term commitment to Johnson’s presidential campaign.

  They were both smoking cigars and sipping some of the most expensive single malt that money could buy, a gift from Vaughn. The man knew how to make an instant fri
end out of Johnson, who could never resist the lure of a good bottle. Good thing Bobby Johnson was taking it slow, keeping things under control and focusing on his guest.

  At a small table near the window, Danny, Johnson’s ridiculously young PR expert, was playing a Texas hold ’em game with Vaughn’s assistant. Money was piling up on their table, and by the looks of it, Danny was winning big.

  Their conversation was heating up, catching Fischer’s attention.

  “Absolutely,” Johnson was saying, “it makes perfect sense to relax our policies and increase the collaboration with foreign energy players. We have to examine how it would best work for our interests and take action, make it happen.”

  “Maybe I can offer some guidance, Mr. President?” Vaughn asked.

  The man was smooth, Fischer had to admit. Johnson was purring like a kitten every time Vaughn called him Mr. President.

  “I am counting on your guidance, Dave. I am counting on it! What would you do?”

  “I would increase oil production, especially home oil production. Global warming has come and almost gone, and, yes, we must be aware of the risks and put control measures in place, but this is not the time to limit oil production here at home. Do we want to reduce our dependency of foreign oil? Yes, we absolutely have to. But we have to achieve that goal by drilling a little bit more, giving researchers time to come up with viable, truly viable alternate solutions for energy.”

  “Uh-huh, I see,” Johnson said. “What would need to happen?”

  “Change policy a little. Let’s make drilling permits easier to get and faster, for both inland and offshore drilling. That will allow us an increase in oil production that will achieve this goal for you, the independence from foreign oil.”

  “That’s not going to be hard,” Johnson said.