Using Google, it took only minutes to identify the language as Kazakh, and to translate it into English. The translation was not perfect, but that was not the problem. What was the problem was that the language was in some kind of code. With other decoding software Jake had, he could break Cipher’s code, but it would take time. He would need one or more further “visits” to Cipher’s computer, but not until he first broke the code being used in the folder.
Jake didn’t know how long that might take. Complicating matters even further, one of the baristas in Starbucks had pointed out his extended stay to someone who looked like he might be the store manager. The manager came over to Jake. “Hi, name’s Neil. Something I can do to help you?”
“Nope, I’m good, thanks,” Jake said. “The Oatmeal Cookie Protein Shake and the Carmel Latte were both great.”
“Good to hear. It’s just that, you’ve been here doing whatever on your laptop for over two hours. You’re starting to draw attention to yourself and to make people nervous.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I had some work to get done, and the Wi-Fi in my apartment building was down for maintenance. I didn’t mean to cause any problems. I’ll pack up and be on my way.”
“No worries, man,” Neil said. “The Wi-Fi goes down in my apartment all the time. Didn’t really mean to run you off. Was just curious, I guess. Take as long as you need. By the way, I didn’t get your name.”
“Gerry,” Jake answered. “Gerry Ross.” Guess I’ve worn out my welcome here. Jake tossed his laptop in his backpack, placed two large cups of ice water in a cardboard container to see him through the drive back to D.C., and headed out the door to his car.
JAKE JOINED FRANK AND Charlie for dinner at the local pizzeria. Leah was stuck on some project at her office, which spared Jake from having to explain his whereabouts all day. The conversation was pretty much constrained to sports and politics—more sports than politics. Madison was having dinner with Cassie and her family. Someone’s birthday, it seemed. Cassie’s grandparents were there too. The grandfather, Supreme Court justice who was the target when Cassie was kidnapped.
When the boys got home, Jake excused himself, saying he had some work to do. He spent the night exploring software used to break codes. From what he found and read, such software was first developed during World War II. Today, it was being used by countries as part of their anti-terrorist operations. Lot more sophisticated today. He stayed with it until his eyes and his mind gave out. Tomorrow’s another day. He showered and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER 37
December 18, 2019, One Day Later
JAKE HAD A BIG day ahead of him—so did the country. Jake had spent a few hours breaking the coded files he had retrieved from Cipher’s computer. Three hours into his work, the headlines flashed across his laptop. The House had voted to impeach President Baker. Jake made himself a sandwich and read the details.
Remarkably, there weren’t that many details, and there weren’t that many surprises. The vote was mostly along party lines. Only one Republican voted to impeach. Now, that was a surprise. Just a couple of Democrats voted against impeachment. They must be in districts that vote red. The overwhelming consensus of the media was that the Senate would quickly vote to acquit, and all that would remain would be the political fallout—on both sides of the aisle.
Jake wondered what impact all of this would have on the election, now less than a year away. He returned to his decoding. Hmm, trying to decipher Cipher. Hah!
Actually, Jake had made a fair amount of progress. Most importantly, he had discovered an extraordinary number of files in the GL folder on Cipher’s computer, pertaining to an individual identified solely as MC. He guessed those two letters probably referred to a person whose first name began with C, and whose last name began with M. He wasn’t far enough along with his work yet to know just exactly what there was to make of the mysterious MC. In particular, until the occasion of his next visit to Cipher’s computer, Jake would remain curious to know if MC would prove to be the subject of still another seemingly deleted folder.
EVEN TOWARD THE END of this busy and eventful day, Jake’s mind wandered back to Anya. He opened up his phone and sent her a text:
THINKING OF OUR NICE LUNCH THE OTHER DAY. I HAVE LOTS GOING ON, BUT I HAVE ONE OF MY FAVORITE LOCAL SPOTS I’D LOVE TO SHOW YOU ON SATURDAY IF YOU’RE FREE. PICK YOU UP AT 1 P.M.? NO JOGGING, BUT WEAR YOUR JOGGING SHOES, AND A WARM JACKET. EARLY DINNER AFTER. JK.
A few minutes later:
HI JK, I WAS THINKING MAYBE YOU FORGOT ABOUT ME. :-(SATURDAY SOUNDS LOVELY. 1 P.M. IS PERFECT. ANYA.
Jake fired off one more text:
SEE YOU THEN. JK.
And one more even shorter from Anya:
:-)
ANYA THEN SENT AN encrypted text of her own. But it wasn’t an afterthought, and it wasn’t to Jake. It was just one word:
PROGRESS.
CHAPTER 38
December 19, 2019, One Day Later
Baker’s EYES SHIFTED BACK and forth between Austin and Baker, Jr. “Okay, so I’ve been impeached. Who gives a shit. Not the first president to be impeached, won’t be the last. The stupid DNC is just playing right into our hands. My hands. The GOP will acquit me in no time flat, and I’ll be able to tweet that I was innocent, like we said all along—that the impeachment was nothing more than ‘fake news’ politics. When will the trial be concluded? How are you guys doing with EBCOM?”
“Apart from making sure that your summary impeachment defense is in place, EBCOM’s plans are right on schedule,” Austin said. “The trial should begin mid-January, and be over in two or three days tops. Nothing else for us to do until then, and until everyone is back in D.C. following the holidays.”
“Will EBCOM be meeting by phone between now and then?” POTUS asked. He was surprised by the confused look on Austin’s face. “What?” Austin glanced at Baker, Jr., but said nothing in response to Baker’s inquiry. Baker, Jr. fielded his father’s question. “Hey, Dad, EBCOM doesn’t act by telephone. Too much risk. We’ve been over that.”
“I know that. I was just testing the two of you. Besides, your mom and I are going to our Florida home through New Year’s. I have some guests joining us for some rounds of golf and a couple of parties. If anything comes up that needs me before I’m back, just plan to come on down.” It never occurred to Baker that either of them might have any plans of their own that might have to be canceled on a moment’s notice.
Austin and Baker, Jr. nodded their understanding to the uncaring POTUS.
BIANCHI SAT AROUND THE table with the impeachment trial managers she had selected. “Of course, we know the outcome—that Baker will be acquitted by his cronies. There’s nothing we can do about that. Our goal is simply to take as much time as we can putting on the strongest case we can. Baker will argue the acquittal means he was innocent, as he has said all along. Our job is to see if we can get a couple of Republicans to break ranks and vote guilty, and to be able to argue that we discharged our constitutional responsibilities as we were required to do, and that Baker was in fact guilty of impeachable offenses. We’ll make as much of that as we can, and also attempt to make the GOP look bad for handing Baker a free pass.” She gazed at Ralph Sylvester, Chair of the House Intelligence Committee, who would be acting as the lead trial manager in the Senate.
“We understand, Madam Speaker,” Sylvester said. “Baker’s lawyers think they will be able to force a quick vote in a day or two. We believe we will politically milk the trial for all we can, using every trick we can, in the Senate and in the press, to drag the trial out for at least three weeks. Every day, we plan to hammer Baker over and over. He’ll get his acquittal, but we’ll make sure that as much of the country as possible will see how guilty he is. He’ll get to tweet up a storm about how innocent he is, but hopefully this trial will help us in November when the election takes place, and when matters really count.”
“I hope you’re right, Ralph,
” Bianchi said.
THE ALERT ON JAKE’S smartphone sounded. The words “Unidentified Caller” appeared on the screen. Ordinarily, he let calls he didn’t recognize go to voicemail. More often than not, they were spam calls and didn’t leave a message, even if they were a live caller. Legitimate callers left a voicemail message, and he could decide whether and when to return the call. Perhaps it was just the holiday season. He was feeling undisciplined and answered the call. “JK.”
“Mr. JK,” the voice said. “Big surprise. Amir is.”
“Amir! Nice to hear your voice. It sounds like you’re right here next to me. How is everything in Kazakhstan?”
“Not in Kazakhstan. Am here in D.C.”
“Here? In Washington? Are you okay?”
“Things very bad in Kazakhstan. Had to leave fast. Here now. You help me, please, Mr. JK?”
“Where are you, Amir?”
“Staying in Dulles Youth Hostel near Dulles Airport.” He gave Jake the address.
Jake looked at his watch. He punched the address into his phone. He looked at the route and time estimate. “I’ll be there in an hour, maybe a little less. Where will I find you?”
“Coffee shop off lobby. Like restaurant in Kazakhstan Hilton. I wait for you there, Mr. JK.”
“Okay, Amir, I’ll see you as soon as I can get there.”
JAKE WALKED INTO THE coffee shop. It was almost empty, but he didn’t see Amir. Suddenly, he felt a menacing hand from behind tugging on his shoulder. Startled, he quickly turned and raised his hands to protect his face from the stranger confronting him.
“Not to worry, Mr. JK. Am Amir.”
“Amir. Yes. Oh my God. You look so different than you did in Kazakhstan. I hardly recognize you. What happened? Are you okay? What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“Am okay now. Very long story. Please to sit. I explain.”
More than an hour later, Amir had described everything that had happened to him after Jake left Kazakhstan, and how he barely managed to escape and make his way to the United States. He showed Jake a Bermuda passport that identified him as Dhruv Bhakta. Given the change in the style and color of his hair, his looks more or less resembled the photo in the passport, rather than the Amir he remembered. He also showed Jake a series of selfie pictures on his phone that displayed a badly beaten Amir. The bruises were almost fully healed, but his gait was somewhat awkward, as if he still felt the discomfort of the fading marks.
More significantly, there were holes in Amir’s story not explained by his English deficiencies. Amir said he hoped Jake would help him to obtain asylum in order to remain in the U.S., but he was vague when Jake asked who did this to him, and why. He was even murkier when Jake questioned how he was able to put together the resources to flee Kazakhstan so quickly, and journey to the United States on a passport supposedly issued to look-like Dhruv Bhakta in Bermuda, and why he was perceptive enough to take and save those selfies? For that matter, how did this seemingly naïve and inexperienced street urchin from Kazakhstan have a smartphone that was getting cell service here in D.C.?
Jake thought there was a lot more Amir was holding back than he was sharing. He felt sorry for him and wanted to do what he could to help, but he wasn’t quite comfortable with the thought of bringing him to Leah and Frank. “Of course, I will try to help you, Amir,” Jake loosely said. “But for now, you need to stay here at the youth hostel until I can get the right information for you. I will call or text you, but it will probably not be until tomorrow.”
JAKE ARRIVED BACK AT Leah and Frank’s to find an empty home. Makes sense. It’s a weekday and it isn’t dinnertime yet. He had thought about what he was going to tell them on the way back from the youth hostel. He reviewed his thoughts one more time.
Leah walked in a few minutes later. “Hope you’re hungry,” she said. “Frank’s on the way home. He stopped to pick up some takeout. Knew I had too long a day to think about cooking. Charlie and Madison are at a friend’s, so it’s just the three of us.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jake said. He decided he would wait to tell them about Amir at the same time so he didn’t have to go through the saga twice. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”
By the time Jake came back downstairs, Frank was home, and Leah was putting the food out on the table. “C’mon guys, get it while it’s hot, or cold, as the case may be.”
The food was good. So was the small talk.
“I had an unusual experience this afternoon that I think you will find interesting,” Jake said. He then told them about Amir, and what Amir had relayed to him.
“That’s quite a story,” Leah said. “First Anya and now this Amir. I’m surprised you didn’t bring him home to meet us.”
Frank smiled but didn’t say anything.
“Actually, I met Amir before I met Anya,” Jake answered. “I thought about bringing him back here with me, but something about Amir is nagging at me. His story is all a little too pat. And not. Both at the same time.”
“You think?” Frank said. “Besides, whatever might be nagging you about Anya is probably a little different.”
Leah chortled.
“Right,” Jake said. “If we’re done with the jokes, can we talk about what we can actually do to help Amir?”
“I’m no expert on the subject,” Leah said, “but Amir is correct that what he needs to do is apply for asylum. I once helped someone pro bono with the asylum process. As I recall, you have up until one year from entering the U.S. to file the application with the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. People usually apply at the port of entry because they have to pass through the authorities to enter the country. Because Amir entered on a Bermudan passport that required no visa, he just passed right through and isn’t under any short-term pressure. His situation might be a little more complicated because he entered on a false passport.”
“That being the case,” Frank said, “if I were Amir, I’d lie low for the time being, until I figured out exactly what I wanted to do. In this case, I’d say don’t do today what you can put off until tomorrow. It might also be a good idea for you to speak to Judge Brooks. He usually has a worthwhile idea or two about almost everything. He also knows a lot of people.”
“I think talking to Cyrus is a great idea,” Leah said. “I have something else I need to discuss with him tomorrow. I can ask him about this as well.”
“Thanks, guys. I’ll tell Amir. Let me know what Judge Brooks says.”
“In the meanwhile,” Frank said, “it’s fine to be supportive, Jake, but you seem to have a lot on your plate. Might be a good idea not to make Amir too much of an additional project.”
Jake didn’t answer.
LEAH WAS NOT HAPPY. Damn, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. The thought of Jake sticking around “boring” college is looking grimmer and grimmer.
CHAPTER 39
December 20, 2019, One Day Later
LEAH FILLED JAKE IN on her conversation with Cyrus. “He said lying low for the time being was good advice, that speaking randomly with some low-level representative of the U.S.C.I.S. was more likely to complicate matters than help. He added that he has a friend there who might be able to help. He put in a call, but he’s away for the holidays. He said he’d be happy to try him again after the first.
“Okay, thanks, Sis,” Jake said. “I’ll let Amir know what Judge Brooks said.”
“Aside from the fact that no one useful in any federal agency is likely to be focused and on hand during the last week of the year,” Leah added, “there is one thing I recall that is odd about the way our immigration laws work. Amir may wish to obtain permanent residence in the U.S., or even U.S. citizenship, but that is much more complicated than obtaining asylum, and asylum allows the asylee to stay in the U.S. indefinitely. If one applies for a green card, or permanent residence, it may be necessary, depending on the timing of the application for permanent residence, to leave the country while that application is pending, even though open-en
ded asylum has already been obtained.”
“Sure sounds complicated,” Jake said.
“Anything involving the U.S. government typically is,” Leah replied. Little did she know how those words would come back to haunt them.
JAKE SENT AMIR A detailed text explaining everything he had learned. He said he would call Amir to set a date to get together. With Leah’s permission, he also gave Leah’s contact information to Amir.
Moments later, he received back the following reply:
THANK YOU. DHRUV BHAKTA.
LATER THAT DAY, JAKE called Amir on his cell phone. He received a message that the phone number was no longer in service. He called the youth hostel and asked to speak to Dhruv Bhakta. He was told that Mr. Bhakta had checked out. He did not leave a forwarding address.
THAT EVENING, JAKE TOLD Leah and Frank what had transpired with Amir.
“All for the better,” Leah said.
Frank didn’t say anything.
Jake wondered about what Leah said. All for the better for whom, Amir or me? At least I didn’t shine him off. Did what I could.
CHAPTER 40
December 21, 2019, One Day Later
JAKE WAS FEELING SERIOUSLY restless. He had promised Leah that the next two weeks would be devoted to quality time for the family—no work and no computers, not even cell phones. Not for any of them. It was going to be movies, television, jigsaw puzzles, and board games, book stores and restaurants. She and Frank had both taken the coming two weeks off from work to be with Jake, saying they knew it might be the last such occasion. Even Charlie and Madison had promised to go along. The least he could do was cooperate.
JK's Code (Brooks/Lotello Thriller Book 4) Page 12
