by Neil Howarth
“Shit.” Walter cursed in a low voice.
“What’s up?”
“He’s not coming.”
“What?”
“He says he’s too scared.”
“That makes two of us. Can we go home now?”
“He’s sent me an account and password. He says it’s one of Roberto’s.”
“You really are crazy.”
“We don’t need Carlo if we have this. If we can get into one of Roberto’s accounts, we can get at whatever we want.”
“Yeah, sounds easy. But first, we need to get on the main server farm’s private network. And to do that we have to get inside the main firewall. And the only way to do that is in that building.” Aldo pointed down the street, to a modern office building two blocks away.
“So what are we waiting for? Come on. The evening shift took over at six o’clock. The alarms are on, and everything is on remote surveillance. Which is in your hands. Apart from the security guard on the front door, the place is ours.” Walter shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather biker jacket and headed down the street.
“If they come out waving guns, I am standing behind you,” Aldo called out as he hurried after him.
“There’s enough of me to give you plenty of cover.”
The backup data center was on the Via della Conciliazione, a short road connecting Saint Peter’s Square to the Castel Sant’Angelo on the western bank of the Tiber River. It was physically outside the walls of the Vatican, but logically, as far as the technology was concerned, it was inside the primary network. The building hosted racks of computer servers that replicated the servers in the primary data center on the Via da Belvedere. It mirrored every action, every byte of data, and in case of a disastrous failure of the main server farm, it could take over in an instant. The process was called Disaster Recovery, and Walter had written the original plan.
From the outside, it looked like any other office block. There was a reception area and a security guard on the front desk.
“I hope your security passes work,” Walter muttered as he pushed open the front door.
He unzipped his leather jacket exposing his priest’s black shirt and collar and nodded across at the security guard, then headed for the security turnstiles that ran across the main corridor.
“Father,” the security called after him.
Walter stopped. “Yes, my son?”
The man waved a finger at Aldo. “He needs to check that bag through.”
Walter looked at the leather computer bag that Aldo had over his shoulder. He nodded at Aldo, then flashed a grin at the guard. “Sorry.”
Aldo pulled out a laptop and two iPads, then placed them and the bag on the conveyer belt to an x-ray system beside the security guards desk.
“I could do without working at this time,” Walter said making conversation with the guard to hide his nervousness. “But my boss insists we do this update outside of main hours.”
“Is it in the book?”
“Knowing my boss, it’s not. He called me at six o’clock this evening to tell me this was urgent. Which usually means he forgot all about it. Call him up if you want, but I’ll tell you up front, he’s usually in bed early, and he does not wake up nicely. I know that from first-hand experience.”
The security guard seemed to study Walter. “I’ve not seen you around here for a while.”
“They have me chained to a desk on the main site. They don’t let me out very often.”
A light of recognition seemed to come on in the guards head. “I remember you now. Are you not the one who?”
Walter held a finger to his lips. “Hush. We are not supposed to talk about that.” Walter forced a grin. “And you in Security.”
The guard seemed to see the funny side. “I guess you are right. Sorry.” He glanced across at Aldo. “He is good to go. But remember contractors need to be accompanied at all times.”
“No problem. He will not leave my sight.”
They headed over to the turnstiles and Walter put his plastic security pass on the card reader. His heart was pounding, and he held his breath. The turnstile clicked, and the light turned green. He pushed his way through, and Aldo followed suit. Walter waved back at the security guard. Walter picked up his stuff from the conveyer belt, and they headed over to the elevators.
“Basement,” Walter said as the double doors opened and he stepped inside. “The servers are down there. Supposed to be bomb proof.”
Walter jammed the doors open as they were about to close and pulled out his phone. He positioned his large frame in front of the surveillance camera with Aldo behind him. He dialed a number, and a phone began to ring on the security desk. As soon the security guard picked up the phone Walter indicated to get started.
“Hi, this is Father Walter, sorry to bother you, but did I leave my notebook on your desk?”
“Hang on a second,” the voice said on the other end.
Walter continued waving his hand vigorously behind his back.
But Aldo already had the control panel of the elevator open. He connected one of the iPads with a short cable.
“Sorry.” The security guard came back on the line. “Don’t see anything here.”
“I must have left it back in the office.” Walter smiled up at the camera. “I guess I’ll have to remember all the details in my head.” He let doors of the elevator close and turned to face Aldo who stood there looking innocent, with the control panel closed.
“Everything okay?”
Aldo nodded. “They always miss this one.” He said with a sly smile. “I’m surprised you missed it.”
“Who said I missed it.” Walter gave him a sly grin. “I always leave a way in.”
Aldo shook his head, unsure whether to believe him. “Okay, the record shows we are on the second floor. The security cameras in the basement are playing on the last hour’s recording. So we need to be in and out in the next sixty minutes.”
“I wasn’t intending to take that long.”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out into a darkened corridor, Walter in the lead. A low-level hum emanated from the room in front of them. They moved inside. It was lit only by the glow of a series of racked servers, each with green and white lights illuminating their status. Walter used the flashlight from his phone and led the way to a central control panel.
“Okay, you can get in here.”
Aldo stepped forward and connected his laptop to the control panel. His fingers danced across the keyboard.
“Son of a bitch.” Aldo cursed and continued to tap away again at the keyboard.
“What’s up?”
“Looks like they have changed the password.”
“Shit. Can you hack it?”
“Normally I would say yes, but this is one of Roberto’s accounts, so don’t hold your breath.”
Walter glanced nervously down the passage between the server racks.
“Keep trying. I think maybe someone is trying to play us.”
He headed back towards the elevator, peering into the shadows as he went. As he approached the entrance, a figure stepped out into the light. Walter recognized him straight away.
“Father Walter. I knew you would come.”
Roberto took a step towards him. The semi-automatic he held in his hand was clear to be seen.
“A gun, Roberto?” Walter said. “Not really your style. I would have thought running like a little schoolgirl to Cardinal Brennan and blabbering to him, was more up your street. Do you know how to shoot that thing?”
Walter took a step towards him. Roberto looked nervous. He thrust out the gun in front of him. His hand was shaking.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I think you might still have the safety on.” Walter pointed to the gun. “That little doofer there.”
Roberto momentarily let his eyes switch to the semi-automatic. Walter took another step, moving quickly for such a big man. He grabbed the gun with one hand and Roberto’s t
hroat with the other. He wrenched the weapon free and pushed his face up close to Roberto’s.
“You slimy piece of shit. I’m a man of God, but I’m sure he would forgive me if I snapped your scrawny neck.”
“Walter please. You don’t understand. That man is crazy. He was going to kill me. I had no choice.”
“No choice? So the message was from you.”
Roberto nodded as best he could in the grip of Walter’s hand.
“Where is Carlo?” Walter squeezed at his throat. “Tell me, or I swear I’ll squash the life out of you.”
“Please,” Roberto’s voice was a strangled whisper.
Walter took a deep breath and let go. Roberto collapsed to his knees gasping for breath and massaging his throat.”
“So where is he?”
Roberto would not look at him. “He’s dead. I’m sorry, there was nothing I could do.”
Walter had been putting it off in his head, though deep down he knew this would be the outcome. He had probably known it from the first day.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Please, I swear. I could do nothing about it. It was Brennan and that animal Father Juergen.”
“And you didn’t whisper any little details in their ears. Get Carlo fingered in the first place.”
“Walter please, they would have killed me too.”
“You may just wish they had.”
Walter grabbed Roberto’s shirt front and pulled him to his feet. He pushed his face in close. He could smell the harsh tobacco on Roberto’s breath. “Now listen to me, you little worm. If you want to live longer than the next five minutes, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you. And don’t for one moment think I won’t do it.”
Walter took him by the scruff of the neck and marched him back to where Aldo was still pounding away at the keyboard accompanied by a constant string of low whispered cursing.
“Holy shit,” he said as he spotted Roberto.
“Step aside. Let this worm in.” Walter held up a fat finger in front of Roberto’s face. “Get me in, and remember, any shenanigans and I’ll crush that scrawny skull of yours to a pulp, and eat it for my breakfast.”
Roberto seemed to be in no doubt he was telling the truth. He moved in quickly and made a short entry into the keyboard, hit enter, then stepped aside. “There. It is all yours.”
Walter gave him a look that could have killed on its own, then stepped up to the keyboard and pounded away at the keys with his fat fingers. “Now then, speak to me my sweetheart, it’s been far too long.”
58
Night Train, Zagreb — Zurich.
Fagan watched as the platform slid away. A solid lump of ice sat in the bottom of his gut. He had a sudden vision of Frankie, emerging from the concourse, running out onto the platform, trying to catch up with him. She was looking up at him, imploring, pleading with him. All he had to do was reach out and take her hand. But he was unable to move. All he could do was watch. For every step she took, the train pulled further away, until she was nothing more than a tiny figure in the distance. Then she was gone.
“Are you all right?”
Armena was looking at him.
“I’m fine, just a little tired,” Fagan said, trying to shake the feeling.
“Maybe you should get some rest.”
They had booked a sleeping compartment. It was small but clean and functional. There were two single, drop down, bunk beds with a white painted ladder leading to the upper bunk. There was a small sink, and a window looking out onto the platform, which was now rapidly slipping away.
“I need to take a quick look up and down.” He paused in the doorway. “I want you to lock this door and don’t open it until I knock.” He knocked twice then paused and knocked once more. “Okay?”
Armena nodded but did not say anything. She lay down on the lower bunk bed.
Fagan patted the Glock tucked into the back of his trousers then stepped out into the corridor and slid the door closed behind him. He turned left and headed down the train. The sleeping compartments were at the rear of the train. He made his way to the end before he turned and started his sweep. He headed back through the sleeping compartments and emerged into a standard seating carriage, with seats at either side of the central passage. He scanned the passengers as he walked, digging back on a skill he had developed many years ago. As his instructors had always told them.
You need to be able to tell the good guys from the bad guys.
He reached the front of the train, at least as far as he could go, and had seen no one that had raised his suspicions.
He made his way back to the carriage and rapped the prearranged code on the door. He heard movement inside then Armena’s voice.
“Mister Fagan?”
“It’s me. You can open up.”
Armena slid open the door.
Fagan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Everything looks clear out there.” He could see the fear, still clear in her eyes. “Don’t worry this will be over soon. And I promise you your life will be back to normal.”
Armena shook her head. “My life will never be normal again.”
Fagan wanted to say something to comfort her, but he knew she was probably right.
Armena got back on the lower bunk and picked up a leather backed book she had been reading. It looked like the one that Omar had given her.
“What are you reading?”
She held up the book for him to see. He stepped forward so he could see it. It was a copy of the Qu’ran.
She smiled. “What did you expect?”
“Does it give you comfort?”
“Sometimes. Other times it just makes me realize that few people in the world are doing what it teaches. Many are twisting its words to bring about their own selfish gains. I sometimes wonder if we deserve all that we get.”
“That’s not true. And it’s not just that book. My own religion is just as bad.”
“Do you believe in God?” It seemed to come as a shock to her.
“I used to think so. Sometimes I’m not so sure. Often I think it’s me, not him that is the problem.” Fagan almost smiled. “Believe it or not, I used to be a priest.”
Armena opened her eyes wide. “How did?” She began but didn’t finish it.
Fagan understood what she was thinking. She had seen him shoot two men. A part of him was surprised he was even talking about it, but he continued anyway. “It was not a path I really chose. It was presented to me. And for a while, it seemed the right one.”
“Why did you give it up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I was being tested. Maybe I lost my faith. I certainly lost my way. Then someone special came into my life and changed everything. Now she’s lost, and I’m afraid I’ll never find her again.” Fagan look at Armena. “I’m sorry. We both have someone out there. Let’s pray they will both be alright.”
He had walked right into that one, opened his mouth and put his foot right in it. He could see the pain written there in her eyes. She had lost much more than he had.
“Both our books tell us that love is the most important thing,” Armena said. “You should trust in your God, and I am sure you will find her again.”
Fagan wasn’t sure that God had helped him so far.
“Come on,” Fagan said. “We should eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Armena said.
“Maybe not, but trust me, we need to eat.”
Fagan led the way to the restaurant car. There were a few tables laid out with white tablecloths and bright cutlery, and a small bar in the corner. A few people were already dining. Fagan chose a table by the door. A young man with a wispy beard dressed in a white monkey suit came from behind the bar and took their order. Fagan ordered the steak. Armena was not interested. Fagan looked at the menu and ordered her the chicken salad.
Armena was looking out of the window.
“Do you think they will kill him? Marko.” She said it without taken her eyes from what she was
seeing out in the darkness.
“I’m sure Marko will be fine,” Fagan said. “When we get to Zurich, you can try calling him again. I’m sure he’ll turn up when things calm down.”
Armena shook her head. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “He is gone. I know it.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.” Fagan reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
Armena did not respond, she just kept on looking out into the dark.
The food arrived, and the soldier in Fagan made him eat. Armena pushed the chicken salad around the plate and at Fagan’s insistence ate a little. But eventually, she dropped her fork on her plate and looked up.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You already asked me that.”
“Why are you taking care of me, while your friend is still out there?”
Fagan gave a slight shrug. “It’s a question I keep asking myself. All I know is I made a promise.”
“What is her name?”
“Frankie,” Fagan said. “It’s really Francoise, but she prefers Frankie.”
“If she is out there against the Colonel’s men, she is either very brave or. . .” She stopped herself. “Sorry.”
“I can assure you she is far from stupid. And yes she is very brave. You asked why I am doing this. You and what you know is somehow tied up with something Frankie, and I got caught up in. She was sure that if I found you, I would find the answer. When I was injured,” he put a hand to his wound, “she led them away from me so I could concentrate on finding you. I still don’t know what connects us, but now I’ve found you, I know you need to be able to tell your story. Frankie said this was bigger than just the two of us, and I know she was right.”
“She sounds like quite a person.”
Fagan smiled and looked out into the darkness. “Oh, she is that.”
“Do you love her?”
Fagan looked back at Armena. He was not a man for sharing what he had inside. “Yes I do, very much.”
He could see the tears welling in her eyes. He knew she was thinking about Marko. He wanted to reassure her, but he knew these people.
