by J C Ryan
Feverishly, Dylan went over the records again. Last Wednesday. Yesterday was a Wednesday. But he didn’t take the same route. Not the same road, not the same time. Not a pattern. He followed the hunch, though. There it was—another trip on the first Wednesday after the bugs were planted. Not the same road or time, again, but all three trips traveled the roads around Hyde Field.
When it clicked into place, Dylan slapped his forehead. Why had it taken even a minute to see the connection? The “milk” plane made its runs on Wednesdays, usually arriving at Freydís around ten a.m. and back to Virginia before three p.m. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Gotcha, you bastard!
“Sean, come have a look at this!” he yelled.
Sean agreed it couldn’t be coincidence, which by the way, he didn’t believe in, either. But what could McCormick do from the distances he was keeping? He never got closer than five miles from the landing strip in any direction. There were no stops at all, not even one long enough to retrieve something from a dead-drop.
It was Sean who got the brainwave. “Let’s bring in some computer geeks. I want to know if there’s any way to transmit data during a drive-by? How far away can someone be from a hot-spot and still receive a private transmission? And how long would it take to retrieve the data from one of those mass storage devices?”
They questioned the egg-heads carefully, not revealing the size or even the existence of the mass storage device. All theoretical, right?
And the experts came through with the right answers.
Well, it depended on the device. With a cell phone, maybe thirty yards. But with different protocols and the right equipment, it could be up to hundreds of miles. Yes, high-speed transmission was possible.
What if the receiver of the data was moving? Could it get a signal and reliably download data without corruption at five to ten miles?
Sure, easily, and you wouldn’t even need a big router on the sending end to pick it up on your laptop.
After dismissing the technical consultants, who preferred that term to what Sean had been calling them, Sean and Dylan shared a high-five.
Bingo! They had the means. Now they just needed the method.
Russell drove near the jetport every Wednesday after the “milk” plane returned from Freydís, somehow activated the transmission from the “chocolate box” remotely, and downloaded the data from the mass storage device. The “chocolate box” must be programmed to retrieve the data from the storage device, probably during the flight, and transmit it when McCormick turned up.
Now they had to determine what he did with it. Probably kept it stored on his laptop until he could offload it to his handler, either by transmitting it securely, in the same way he got it, or maybe he copied it to another storage device and handed it off via dead drop.
Whatever method he used, the receiver of that data was the next link in the chain to the leak—maybe even the main culprit. Therefore, the next thing to investigate was what McCormick did with the data.
Kelly was most familiar with his routine while at work or with her, and she knew she’d never seen a laptop at his home. He had one at work, but it would have been extremely risky to use it for clandestine activities. Government laptops, even for the lowliest employees, had encryption built-in, safeguards against pirated software that would prevent a user from adding anything to the hard drive, and were subject to random recalls for the IT departments to make changes. It was therefore highly unlikely he’d use it, or even be able to use it, to download data from the “chocolate box”.
“What about phones?” Dylan asked.
“Two smartphones, one for work, and it has the same problems the laptop would. Plus, it’s like mine, it’s a couple of generations behind the times, and I doubt it would have the storage capacity. His personal smartphone is the best bet,” Kelly replied.
“Do you know the password?”
“It’s a Z-pattern he traces around dots on the screen. Yeah, I think I could duplicate it.”
Sean said, “Then you’ll have to check it. We’ll get the geeks to give you a scanning app. Assuming you can get hold of the cell phone long enough to do it.”
“I think I can. Dinner, wine, bed,” she said, lifting a corner of her lip as she said bed. “And to be sure he stays asleep after all that, a nightcap with some liquid Benadryl.”
The plan worked flawlessly, except for the fact that there was nothing suspicious in McCormick’s phone, Kelly reported.
“Maybe it was hidden so well the scan couldn’t detect it?” Dylan suggested.
“The IT guys told me it would have seen a blank area that it couldn’t read. It just wasn’t there.”
All three were silent for a few minutes as they thought about how someone would retrieve the information from the “chocolate box” on the plane without the help of the crew.
Kelly spoke first. “What about the maintenance crew?”
“We’ve dug up every secret, connected associates, and specks of DNA the crew and maintenance crew might have back to their great-great-great-grandfathers. They’re clean,” Sean said. It was only a slight exaggeration.
Dylan snapped his fingers. “Of course! We’ve been stupid. It’s another ‘chocolate box’. We’ve got to get a better name for the damn thing.”
Sean took up the idea. “You mean, Russell has one, too.”
“No doubt about it. And there’s probably another one he transmits to after he grabs the data.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sean cautioned. “It’s a good theory, but we need to verify it. Kelly, can you get McCormick to spend the night at your place again?”
“Sure. But why?” she asked.
“You’ll let us into the parking garage, and while he’s with you, Dylan and I will tinker with his car a bit. Just go with whatever happens.”
“Okay,” Kelly said, drawing out the syllables. “Are you guys going to take his car apart right there? My neighbors might get suspicious.”
“Nope. In the morning, it won’t start. Offer to call a mechanic, and we’ll take it from there. You can give him a ride to work.”
Kelly grinned broadly. “Okay, I’ve got it.”
***
Sean and Dylan waited where Kelly told them to, in an alcove opposite the elevator in her building’s parking garage. Wearing all black and with their faces blackened, no one could see them in the shadow. Sean’s cell phone buzzed a few minutes after they saw her car pull into its designated slot and Russell’s follow and park in a guest slot. There was just one word in the text from her: go.
They slipped between parked cars until they came to Russell’s. After a quick look around, Dylan slipped underneath the car, applied a clamp to the soft fuel line, and crawled back out.
“You sure that will work?” Sean asked.
“Yeah. Where I put it, the car will start and then die. After that, it will just act like it’s going to start, but it won’t be getting any fuel,” Dylan answered. “I did it to a guy that pissed me off in high school.”
“Good man. Remind me not to make you mad.”
The next morning, Sean got a call from Kelly. “A1 Mechanics? Hi. You guys helped me out when my car wouldn’t start a few months back. I have a friend who’s got the same problem. Can you pick up his car and take it to your shop for a checkup?”
Russell was happy she was making the arrangements with her mechanic; he had no mechanical skills. Kelly took him to work.
Shortly after they had left, Dylan met the CIA techs at the parking garage and pointed out the correct car. They towed the car away, and for the next few hours, they took the car apart and put it back together again, finding nothing but the “chocolate box” Dylan had suspected.
The box was hidden behind the side panel of the driver’s side door, and again the techs didn’t want to interfere with it in case doing so would alert Russell or someone else. They told Dylan that unless they could take it out and analyze it, all they could say was it was identical to t
he one in the plane as far as they could tell.
It was a good guess the thing was both a receiver and a transmitter, as they’d speculated about the one in the plane. Frustrating as it was not to be permitted to take it apart and figure it out, they simply couldn’t risk it. It could be rigged to blow up if someone interfered with it, or it could alert the very people Executive Advantage and the CIA were trying to trap.
It seemed the only way they were going to get to the bottom of it would be to interrogate McCormick. And that was going to be a political hot potato.
Chapter 44 - Planning a kidnapping
April 13
A debate among Dylan, Kelly, and Sean was raging. Dylan was all for kidnapping Russell McCormick and beating information out of him. Kelly thought the kidnapping was a good idea but wasn’t sure beating Russell would be productive. Sean agreed with the abduction, but wasn’t sure Bill would condone it.
Sean asked them to wait while he had a quick meeting with Bill. Half an hour later, Bill walked into the coffee shop where Sean had asked to meet him, and the two strolled out one after the other, as if by coincidence, with takeaway coffee in their hands.
“We’ve identified another of those black boxes like in the plane,” Sean said, not looking at Bill, who was by now walking in tandem but looking across the street.
“Where?” Bill glanced at the sidewalk as he spoke.
“In Russell McCormick’s car. We need to question him but without alerting his handler.”
“That bastard! You want me to set it up with Alec Burnett?”
“No. We want you to run interference if there’s any fallout after we kidnap him,” Sean said. Though Bill still wasn’t looking at him, he made a wry face.
“You’re not serious!” Now Bill did look at Sean, but Sean was examining the crowd around them in the reflection of the windows they were passing.
“We may have to get rough.”
“You’d better be damned sure he’s involved,” Bill muttered.
“Oh, we’re sure. There’s no question.”
“Then you have my full support,” Bill said firmly.
***
Ten minutes later, Sean gave the go-ahead for the kidnapping, and the rest of the conversation involved planning it.
Kelly had just one day to set up the trap. Her first move was to invite Russell for a weekend getaway. “I haven’t been myself lately,” she explained over dinner. “I think I need a break, and I’d love to have you join me. We could do something on the Outer Banks. I don’t want to go far.”
“Sounds like fun,” Russell said. He gave a slight leer as he asked if she’d be taking a bikini.
“I’m sure I will be,” Kelly responded, smiling, a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. Russell didn’t even notice. “I’ll make a reservation. This is my treat for a change.”
The next morning, she gave Sean and Dylan the address of the beach cottage she’d rented. “Will this be secluded enough?”
“It will do for the snatch. We’ll take him to one of our safe houses not far from there,” Sean answered.
“How many safe houses do you have?” Kelly asked. She’d already learned of several in the DC area where she and Russell had done fruitless raids to capture the Devereuxs.
“I’d tell you, but then,” Dylan said, smirking. “You know what I’ll have to do then…”
“I’d better go and pack. We’re driving down there tonight. When will you do your thing?”
Sean answered, “I think it’s better you don’t know. Just relax and know we’ll be there. That way you won’t get nervous just before the time comes and be honestly surprised when we do.”
“Oh, smart,” Kelly responded.
Chapter 45 - Tell us why
April 14
Even though she’d agreed to be in the dark about when the kidnapping would take place, Kelly sincerely hoped it would be before she had to go to bed with McCormick again. Admittedly, she was partly to blame for the situation she found herself in, but she felt she’d endured the unwanted relationship long enough. After tonight it would be over. Nevertheless, she’d do what she had to if it would bring him down, along with whoever he was working for.
When the door of the cottage burst open just as she was pouring the wine for the dinner she’d cooked, her first thought was Thank God! Her second was an irritated They could have waited another hour so we could eat this.
“What the hell?” Russell shouted, as Sean, Dylan, and a couple of their men grabbed him.
“Mr. McCormick, you’re coming with us.”
Russell continued to struggle and shout as they cuffed his hands behind his back and frog-marched him out the front door. Kelly noticed with even more irritation he hadn’t even once expressed concern about her. She followed the others and watched as Russell was stuffed into the back of one of two identical black SUVs.
She got into the second, and the two cars set out on the reverse route from the one she and Russell had taken from Washington, but somewhere near Grandy, North Carolina, they turned off the highway and made their way to an isolated farmhouse inland.
As soon as she got out of the car, Kelly could hear Russell shouting. She peered through the darkness to see he had a bag of some kind over his head. Looking around her, she was amused to see what Russell couldn’t. No amount of shouting was going to reach the ears of any human being. Not a speck of artificial light showed in any direction.
Dylan and his man muscled Russell into the house, and light bloomed through the windows. Sean, his man, and Kelly followed. Sean handed the two operatives a couple of brown bags, apologizing for the simple fare, and sent them outside to keep watch. He turned to Kelly.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to eat,” he said, handing her another brown bag. “I’m sure your dinner would have been better than this.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The food maybe. But the company is probably better right here,” she answered.
Russell jerked when she spoke. He still had the bag over his head. “Kelly? They got you, too?”
Kelly sent Dylan a questioning look. At his nod, she walked over and snatched the bag off Russell’s head. He blinked a couple of times and then frowned at her. “Kelly, what is this?”
“Why, Russell, I took you to be smarter than that. Based on the fact that you’ve been handcuffed and taken somewhere you didn’t intend to go, I’d say you’ve been kidnapped. My friends here” —she pointed at Sean and Dylan in turn— “have some questions for you. Apparently, you’ve done some things that annoyed the crap out of them. I’d advise you to answer them.” She leaned forward and whispered, “The big one over there,” she thumbed to Dylan, “would like nothing better than to beat the answers out of you.”
Sean raised his eyebrows and gestured for everyone to take a seat. Russell remained standing. “You’ll pay for this. Do you guys have any idea who I am? Did that bitch tell you? I can have you put away for the rest of your lives and then some. Your families will never know what happened to you.”
Dylan slowly unfolded from the chair he’d taken and walked up to Russell, standing nose to nose. “That’s no way to refer to a lady. Sit. Down.” He accompanied his clipped words with a poke in Russell’s chest, powerful enough to shove him into the chair.
Kelly wasn’t surprised when Russell continued to be defiant, lifting his chin and signaling his hatred of Dylan with a fiery gaze. She’d known he was arrogant from almost the first moment she met him. She gave a small shake of her head as she thought about how she’d admired that about him at first.
“That’s right, Kelly. Your boyfriends have the advantage of me now, but it will go even worse for them if they want to play rough. Tell them who I am.”
“They know who you are, Russell. The issue is they know who you really are, I mean other than what you do for a day job. You might as well cooperate.”
“Stupid bitch. You’ve been following my lead since we met. If I’m in trouble, so are you. You’ve been the perfect patsy.”
>
Kelly snarled, but waved Dylan down when he would have taught Russell some manners.
Russell seized the advantage to get in more digs. “I knew everything about you—more than your mother even knew—right down to your sizes, the color of your panties, before I even met you. Your favorite music, color, chocolates, boyfriends. Oh, and now I even know that none of your boyfriends ever gave you as good a time in bed as I did!”
That was the last straw for Kelly, who stood up, took two long strides, and slapped him. “You’re delusional. You’re the worst lay I ever had, asshole.”
“Kelly, that’s enough,” warned Sean. “McCormick, we know you’ve been stealing data—”
Ignoring him, Russell stared at Kelly. “I know your teammates at INSCOM call you Ice Queen. You’d be the last woman any of them approached after one too many drinks. In fact, it would take more than a few too many for any man who didn’t have an agenda to take you to bed at all.”
Kelly, who had remained standing after slapping him, screeched and went for him with both hands. Dylan jumped up and held her back.
“Kelly, take it easy. We need him alive.” He was having a hard time not laughing but knew his head would be next on the chopping block if he did. His amusement stemmed from the fact that Kelly hadn’t wanted to beat the information out of McCormick, but she was now ready to murder him over a few taunts. “You can kill him later,” he added, keeping his face as straight as he could.
“Kelly, please sit down,” Sean said firmly. “Russell, I swear I’ll turn her loose if you don’t start talking. And if you try to lie, I’ll turn Dylan loose. And if you make one more derogatory remark about Miss White, I’ll shoot you in the kneecap. Do I make myself clear?”
Sean’s outburst took Russell’s attention off Kelly, who was visibly shaking. Dylan saw Russell had pushed Sean’s buttons, too. If Russell knew what was good for him, he would calm down immediately. He made a small noise and got Sean’s attention, then gave a slight shake of his head.
“Okay, Casanova,” Dylan said. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. So, you did this brilliant job of setting Kelly up. Mind telling us why? Let me rephrase that. Tell us why.”
