Agent Kee had one more stop to make. He met Agent Michael Ang in a nearby parking lot. Ang was dressed in a natural gas utility service uniform and was sitting in a white van that was “borrowed” from the local gas utility. Kee climbed in with his small IT case. Agent Ang handed him a uniform and indicated he could change into it in the back of the van. Once dressed, Kee said, “Let’s go.” Sometime later they pulled up in front of Reverend Cooper’s Bronx mansion. They approached the ornate door and pressed the doorbell. A female voice answered. “Who are you? What do you want?” Kee and Ang flashed their fake gas company identities. Kee spoke. “We are from the natural gas utility provider. Your neighbors have called in a smell of gas near your house. We are going to walk around the perimeter of the house with our gas sniffer meters. We’ll let you know what we find.” Kee and Ang walked around the house making a show of checking spots with their meters and conferring.
Several minutes later they rang the bell again. “Did you find anything?” “Yes, we suspect the leak originates in the house somewhere at the point where the gas line feeds into the house. We need to check it out.” The door opened and a woman beckoned them in. She said, “I am the housekeeper. Is there anything to worry about? I don’t like gas ever since my mother was killed in a natural gas explosion in her apartment building in the Bronx.” “Ma’am, until we check it out, I can’t answer that question. Please show us to the cellar.” Once down in the cellar they made some noises and banged a few pipes and walked around with their meters. A few minutes later they came back upstairs to where the nervous house keeper was waiting. “Ma’am, it doesn’t look good. The leak is worse than we thought, but we can fix it. Is there anyone here besides you?” “No, I am alone, but the cook will show up in an hour.” “We think it best that you wait outside, you know, in case anything happens. We don’t expect a problem, but you never know.” Ang walked the housekeeper out and went to the van. He dragged the big canvas bag full of tools and big pipe wrenches out of the van’s back door. As he walked in the door, he turned and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed before the cook needs the gas stove to make dinner.” The house keeper smiled and went out to the lawn and stood still. She was a nervous wreck.
Once inside, Kee opened the IT case and gave Ang a handful of white Comm-Wafers. He took a handful, too. Kee said, “Ang, you take the upstairs and I’ll do the downstairs. Make sure every room is covered. If any ceiling isn’t white, let me know. We have additional colors. We now have about 55 minutes. Let’s get this task done fast. Thirty minutes later they were satisfied with their tests. The entire mansion, every room, was under surveillance. They knew that Cooper’s sweep for bugs wouldn’t uncover the bugs, as this technology was a few generations ahead of anything Cooper’s money could buy. They left and said, “You can return Ma’am, the problem is fixed.” They drove back to Kee’s car. Ang drove the van back to the utilities parking lot.
Later that day, Reverend Cooper returned to his mansion. The housekeeper greeted him and explained about the gas leak. Cooper’s suspicions bubbled to the surface. He called his Chief of Security. “Get over here now. I want you to check for bugs. The gas company came to fix a leak. I don’t remember smelling gas, but I haven’t been in the basement for a while. I want you to check around for bugs.” A few hours later, Cooper sat down to his dinner. His Chief of Security had given the house a clean bill of health. The MI agent on the monitoring shift chuckled as he watched the security guy check every room. MI was way better than Cooper’s Tech people.
The following morning Ms. Gates knocked and entered Reverend Cooper’s office. “Good morning, Reverend Cooper. I have found a forensic anthropologist. His name is Dr. Barry Fodor. He has a private office in Manhattan, so you won’t have far to go. Here’s his contact information.” “Ms. Gates, only one name? I expected a few choices.” “Yes, Reverend Cooper. I assumed you wanted the best, but someone who was also discrete. I can give you a few other names, but there have been rumors that they have betrayed confidentiality a few times. Given the anonymous donor, I assumed they wouldn’t do. I can look for some more names in Boston, if you wish.” Reverend Cooper wrinkled his brow at the mention of Boston. Travelling there would definitely expose him to paperwork, showing identification, and those ever watchful surveillance cameras. “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Gates. Thank you.” “Reverend Cooper, would you like me to make the appointment for you?” “No, that won’t be necessary. I can do it.” Cooper thought to himself. If she does it, she’ll use my name. That’s not good.
Reverend Cooper called up the Weather Channel on his computer. He was looking for a day with heavy rain. He knew that surveillance cameras had poorer resolution for car license plates and faces when it was raining hard. He could also pull up the hood and hide his face without looking too conspicuous. He called Dr. Fodor and made an appointment for the next day in the afternoon. There was a 100% chance of heavy rain. Cooper was insufferably pleased with himself on his careful planning. He called Ms. Gates on the intercom. “Ms. Gates, please cancel all my appointments for tomorrow afternoon. I won’t be here in my office.” “Yes, Reverend Cooper.” Ms. Gates smiled to herself. She already knew where he was going as did MI shortly.
The next day Reverend Cooper finished his lunch. He walked to his bedroom and slid the secret panel aside in his closet and pulled out the cosmetic case. He first dabbed on the make-up carefully on his face, neck and hands. It made his skin tone several shades darker. He then carefully glued on the fake mustache and goatee. Next be put on an elastic skull cap that flattened his hair. Then he carefully placed the wig on his head. He now had wavy white hair. He smiled in the mirror. Even his mother wouldn’t recognize him, God rest her soul. Next he opened a wall safe hidden behind a picture. He retrieved a thick bundle of one hundred dollar bills. Dr. Fodor was going to get cash, so untraceable. The Comm-wafer observed it all and transmitted it back to the New York City MI office. MI immediately notified the agents assigned to tracking Cooper’s movements. Next Cooper walked to the hall closet and took out an olive drab trench-coat with a hood. He put it on and pulled the hood up. However, instead of going out the door, Cooper turned and went to the basement door in the laundry room. He opened it and started downstairs. The agents stationed around the neighborhood watched the feed from the Comm-wafers and wondered what in the hell he was doing. He should be going to the garage where his car waited, complete with a tracking bug.
They watched Cooper walk over to a wine-rack filled with wine and pull on it. It slid silently to his right. He opened the door hidden behind it and stepped through, closing the door. Suddenly there were no more images other than the closed door. “Damn,” said the agent in charge, Vladimir Dubrov, from his car across the street. “This guy is more resourceful than we knew. Switch to the drone feed.” A few hundred feet above the neighborhood, a small silent battery operated drone circled, invisible to the eye with its underbelly camouflage that changed colors to match the sky. Today, it had a dark cloudy look, just like the rainy sky above.
Reverend Cooper walked through the underground tunnel for a few hundred feet. He walked up a few stairs and opened the door, stepping into a two bay garage. From the outside, the garage sat on a vacant lot and looked like a ramshackle structure. It had no windows. Looks were deceiving. The wood actually coated steel sheeting, making the garage resistant to break-ins. As back-up, it was alarmed with the best alarm system available, monitored by a no questions asked security service that pandered to the super rich. Cooper liked being super rich. Money could buy lots of things beyond the reach of others, for example, this garage and the tunnel to it. The garage was owned by a shell corporation that was difficult to trace back to Cooper. Besides, why would anyone care about who owned the rundown structure. The taxes were paid, so who cared. Cooper thought about all of this as he entered an older model, beat-up electric car with very dirty windows and mud smeared license plate. The car started right up and purred like a kitten. Again looks were deceiving. He p
ressed a code into the remote which deactivated the alarm system for two minutes and opened the garage door. Cooper drove out into the street and vocalized the address for Dr. Fodor’s office into the GPS built into the dash.
The overhead drone caught the car leaving the garage. Agent Vladimir Dubrov looked at the image and sent a command to the drone for telescopic close-up. “Damn,” he muttered, “The windows are dirty.” He couldn’t tell if it was Cooper. Dubrov made a quick decision. “Agent Montez, you and I will tail the car. We’ll use the on and off car switch so he won’t know. Montez, notify the other agents further ahead to join us in the switch. Agent Gallo, you stay behind and continue to observe in case this car doesn’t have Cooper. We’ll leave the drone here for you. Order the standby chopper to cover the route we go on. I’ll assume we are heading to Manhattan and Dr. Fodor.” Agent Julio Montez did as instructed and started his car and Agent Rosalie Gallo radioed the chopper.
Manney Lisko sat in his car watching the traffic go by. He wore a blue uniform that could pass for a police uniform. He played a dangerous game, pulling people over and impersonating a cop. So far he had been lucky and not been caught. He watched the dirty electric car pass. Hmm, he thought, dirty windows and dirty, obscured plate. That was illegal in that it screwed up the surveillance cameras. He put on his cap, reached out the window and mounted the blue dome light on the roof of his black car that could pass for an unmarked car. Cooper saw the flashing blue light in his rear view mirror. Of all the rotten luck, he cursed as he pulled over. He rolled down the window as the officer approached.
Manney flashed a realistic looking badge just fast enough to be seen, but not so slow as to be scrutinized. “Citizen, you are in violation of law 1524-18 which prohibits dirty windows, dirty plates or excessive window tinting. You know that it screws with our surveillance cameras.” Manney had sized up the driver and decided he was an easy mark. “I can issue you a ticket right now and you can appear in court. Or we can make another arrangement.” Cooper smiled. The cop was crooked. “What other arrangements, officer? I hate to take a day off from work and I’m sure you don’t enjoy having to be present at the court.” Manney smiled, this guy was a piece of cake. “Wait here. I’ll be right back. Manney returned with a squirt bottle and rag he kept for just such occasions. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll clean off the window and plate. That will make you legal again. It’ll cost you $500 for my labor.” Cooper smiled and reached for his wallet. He handed over the $500. Damn, thought Manney. I could have gotten much more. Still, it’s best not to be greedy. He cleaned the window and plate. He walked back to the driver’s window. “You’re legal now, citizen. Be on your way.”
Cooper smiled and drove off. A minor inconvenience, he thought. At least there was no written record. Not that it would be a problem. His fake license and plate would never trace back to him. Still, it seemed much better to avoid entanglements. Agent Vladimir Dubrov watched. His mini telescopic lens in the dark sunglasses confirmed it was Cooper in disguise. MI Agent Julio Montez spoke from the P-Com. “Should I pull the fake cop in?” “Negative, we need to concentrate on Cooper. I have the incident recorded as part of our total recording record for judiciary evidence. We’ll pay this guy a visit in a few days. He helped us out, so we’ll give him a deal. Either work for MI as a street resource or go to jail. I’m sure he’ll make the right choice. I’ll call the other agents to take over tracking for now. We’ll come back near the end when he nears Fodor’s office.”
As Manney reached for the door handle, he saw the black SUV pulling out from across the street. Manney’s neck hairs prickled. He could spot an undercover cop any day of the week. He froze, not knowing what to do. Run or get in the car like he had done nothing wrong. Before he could move, the SUV passed by him and kept going. Manney looked at the driver as the vehicle went by. The driver flashed him a smile. Damn, thought Manney. He had bad feelings about that smile. As he drove off, Manney decided to lay low for a few days. With $500 in his pocket, that wouldn’t be so hard.
Cooper looked up into his rear view mirror. Shit, he thought. That looked like the same black SUV that was behind him before he was pulled over by the cop. On the other hand, there were lots of black SUVs around, so maybe he had an overactive imagination. He noted the plate number just in case. Agent Dubrov saw the mirror check through the eyeglasses’ telescopic lens. He spoke into the air. “Car two, we might have been spotted. Turn right at the next intersection. Once you pull in behind us, we will take the next right. Keep your camera active and send us the signal. We’ll parallel you on the next street over.” “Car two, here. OK, will do.” As soon as Agent Dubrov saw the other silver SUV in his rear view manner, he took the next right. Cooper saw the SUV turn off and felt relieved. His nerves became less frazzled. Some blocks later, he pulled into the underground parking garage for Fodor’s office building. The silver SUV went by and parked on the street and tuned their video receiver to the frequency of the bugs in Fodor’s office. Agent Dubrov went by shortly later and parked. While he parked, Agent Montez tuned to the same frequency.
Cooper pressed the buzzer in the lobby for Fodor’s office. The disembodied voice spoke. “Yes, who is it? Step closer to the lens so I can see you better.” Cooper did as instructed. He was hoping for a less detailed photo record in the building’s visitor database. Oh, well, with his disguise he didn’t think it mattered much. “I am Jonathan Stokes. My appointment with you is for 2:25. I’m a few minutes late. Sorry, but I was unavoidably detained in traffic.” The door lock release buzzed and the voice said “Come on up. Use the elevator at the end of the entry hall. I’ll see you shortly.” Dr. Fodor looked at the door monitor and saw the approaching appointment. He released the door lock once he was sure that the approaching man was the same as the one he saw in the lobby. “Come in, Mr. Stokes. Have a seat.”
Fodor studied Mr. Stokes as he sat. From his years of experience in forensics, he knew immediately Mr. Stokes, if that was his real name, had altered his appearance. Fodor spotted the darker skin tone created by make-up and the fake mustache and goatee. He also knew that the hair was a wig. He pressed the button under his desk that started the concealed video camera and microphone. Fodor was not one to take any chances, given he wasn’t sure if Stokes was an undercover cop or perhaps a criminal or someone up to no good. Fodor smiled his most disarming smile and said, “Before I can be of assistance to you, Mr. Stokes, we need to have an understanding of my fee system. The first hour here will cost $5000. The charge is the same for less time, too. Any follow-up consulting will be billed at $1000 per hour. The first payment is due right now. If you agree to the terms, I’ll take your charge card now.” “Dr. Fodor, your terms are acceptable, but I prefer to pay cash, if that’s OK with you.” Fodor nodded his head yes and his suspicions grew some more. Mr. Stokes didn’t want a paper trail here. Cooper handed over two neat fresh, thick stacks of 100 dollar bills. Fodor accepted them and said, “Before we begin, would you like water, coffee, tea, soda or something stronger?” Cooper smiled and said, “No, nothing please. Let’s get started.” Fodor now knew something was up. Mr. Stokes didn’t want to leave any DNA sample or fingerprints behind.
“I represent a client who wishes to remain anonymous. I have been contracted by this Client, Mr. X. My task is helping Mr. X with some ancestry tracking. Depending on how well things go today, I can bring more of this business your way. Fodor recognized insincerity when he heard it. He would never see Mr. Stokes again. Stokes reached into his small portfolio and handed two pictures to Dr. Fodor. One was labeled person 1 and the other person 2. “Dr. Fodor, do you recognize either of these two individuals?” Fodor looked at both intently. He had the vague feeling that he had seen faces like these before, but couldn’t dredge up any names in his head. “No, I can’t say that I do.” Cooper was relieved. Things would go much better this way. If Fodor had come up with their names, Cooper was prepared to forfeit the fee and find some other forensic anthropologist. “Fine. Here’s my request. What is
the probability that person 2 is really person one after plastic surgery and other means of changing one’s appearance?”
Fodor took the photos over to the scanner. “I will have to scan the photos to the computer and then run them through my facial recognition software program, which was custom designed for me. It won’t take too long.” “Dr. Fodor, before you do that, I have one more requirement. My anonymous employer wants no record left of this task. You must not save the photos to your system. I will have to verify that you deleted them before I leave.” “Mr. Stokes, that request is highly irregular. That is not our customary way of operating here.” “I am prepared to pay another $2000 in cash if you agree.” Fodor thought briefly. The cash sounded good and he was beginning to worry about antagonizing Mr. Stokes. Although the door screening tool had found no obvious weapons on Mr. Stokes, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of some high tech weaponry that evaded the door frame screening. “Agreed, Mr. Stokes. You can watch me delete the files when we are done.” Fodor accepted the pile of cash and added it to the other pile in the desk. What he didn’t tell Mr. Stokes was that the program automatically archived everything, in case of an accidental deletion or in the event of a change of mind later. Fodor reached under his desk and palmed the pocket sonic blaster and discretely put it into his pants pocket.
The Manhattan Incident Page 37
