Mastermind- Rise of the Trojan Horse

by Tom Wheeler

  “Let’s hear him out. Continue, Tom.”

  Tom stood up as a slide revealed a diplomatic plate.

  “Most diplomatic plates are white with black letters or similar, like this one. But others are not so distinct,” said Tom, switching slides. “California 726YXQ was the plate Ralph said he read.”

  “Okay.”

  “YXQ is a location identifier for Beaver Creek, Canada,” Tom added.

  “In whose mind?”

  “Astronomers,” said Tom. “And 7/26 was the date of the Potsdam Declaration.”

  “You’ve taken the date of the unconditional surrender of Japan in WWII and the license plate Duncan gave us, and turned it into some psychotic code referring to 1945?” asked Crane, wondering if this man was brilliant or insane. The praying mantis and the hornet flashed into his mind, as did Mason’s dreams.

  “It’s a form of cryptography, deciphering, and decoding,” said Tom confidently.

  “Except your algorithms decode based on events, not letters,” Crane said. “Caesar sent coded messages to his generals; this seems more like psychic readings.”

  “Jonah Soul is from Beaver Creek, Canada; thus the reason for YXQ,” said Tom. “He was never formally convicted of involvement in the 1993 case in which Canadian officials confiscated a bunch of money, guns, and 130 grams of ricin, but he was a person of interest. Many thought he was at the heart of that incident.”

  “I thought we had cleared him of involvement,” Wesley said, apparently not having been briefed on this part.

  “Right. But digging a bit, we found out that Jonah Soul married the love of his life, Jada Williamson, in 1992, when Jonah was 22. Rumor has it that after the wedding, he discovered Jada had had an affair during their engagement, with Jonah’s . . .” Tom paused, glancing at Wesley.

  “Well, don’t stop now,” Wesley demanded as Crane grew visibly impatient.

  “With whom?” prompted the general.

  “His father, a police officer.”

  “Oh, geez,” said Crane, looking down at the table while putting his hand on his forehead. Wesley appeared stoic.

  “His heart was broken, permanently; at least as the story goes,” Tom said.

  “That doesn’t mean he’s a terrorist,” said Crane. “Although . . .”

  “Didn’t someone confess to getting the ricin for their own biological weapon?” Wesley interrupted.

  “Thomas Lavy, yes,” said Tom. “We don’t know what happened to Jonah as a result of that incident, but it appears he flipped.”

  “How so?”

  “He was arrested for assault and battery after beating up his girlfriend. It was dismissed, but the pictures I saw in the report were disturbing.”

  “Why was it dismissed?”

  “A technicality. He was also accused of tax fraud, which was also dismissed.”

  Crane’s forehead wrinkled as Wesley’s eyes widened.

  “Lavy also hung himself in prison,” Tom went on, “but something was fishy about the autopsy; the formal results were misplaced. Evidently several of his bones were broken, so nobody really knows if he hung himself or was murdered.”

  “Granted, this is a crap sandwich,” Crane said, “but I still don’t . . .”

  “Bottom line, we think Jonah Soul has a dark alter ego.”

  “You’re telling me the CEO of Phoenix, the corporation Mason Thomas used to work for, may be part of some Russian spy ring? And this is no longer speculation?” asked Crane. “And Capucine Foushé might be Dominika? Has everyone lost their minds?”

  “Well, if you’d let me continue?”

  64

  Deciphering and Decoding

  “Jonah made his money with IBM,” said Tom. “He was responsible for developing Canada into the significant market share for IBM, positioning him as the next CEO. According to the rumor mill, he went to then-CEO Akers to ask the US government to steal technology from the Chinese using a special forces unit that, evidently, had done this before.”

  “Speculation,” said Crane. “That assumes private companies have hired the federal government to steal secrets for profit.”

  “Corruption has no boundaries, and is often justified by those who put national security ahead of our Constitution,” said Tom.

  “Continue,” Crane said as he remembered his conversation with Dhilan about honoring commitments without abusing trust.

  “Don Akers recommended Raymond J. Gerstner Sr. to be the next CEO rather than Soul.”

  “When did that happen?” asked Wesley.

  “In 1993, just before Lavy was caught with the ricin. Jonah was also the voice inside IBM that pleaded with IBM to buy out Steve Jobs. They all said no, never believing Apple would amount to anything. Somewhere during this time, Jonah reached out to the Russians.”

  “Why the Russians?” asked Crane.

  “To steal technology secrets from the Chinese,” answered Tom with pursed lips.

  “You have proof?” Crane’s tone was skeptical.

  “Jonah contacted Yuri Dublinin, the former ambassador from Russia who had worked with President Crumpler on Crumpler Towers back in 2007. We kept eyes on him because of the ricin incident,” said Tom. “Nothing serious; curiosity with a cause. Evidently Dublinin made contact with the Shanghai Institute of Microsystem and Information Technology (SIMIT), a Mr. Ling Tie. But that’s as far as it went. That is the Chinese connection. Back then, nothing about Jonah’s contact with Russia or China raised any red flags; just a guy trying to make money. I believe the former president praised him for his connections.”

  “What does Ling Tie do?” the general asked.

  “Nanofabrication and sensors,” said Tom. “Smart robotics. He is reducing the size of nanowires, or conductors and semiconductors, while increasing bandwidth. He worked with Richard Murphy. He is also a former colleague of Dr. Mescher.”

  “So, what’s the big deal?” asked Crane.

  “Ling Tie disappeared a month later,” responded Wesley, jumping back into the conversation as if he had just made sense of the information dump.

  Crane took a deep breath.

  “And Richard Murphy is the developer from Phoenix Corporation who recommended Jonah Soul as CEO of Phoenix back in the day,” Tom blurted out. “But we don’t know if Murphy knew anything or not.”

  65

  World War III

  Before Crane could react he looked at the slide.

  “We found this picture of Jonah Soul meeting with Carlos DaSilva,” Tom said.

  “We’ve been over this. He may be ‘just doing business,’ ” said Crane, skimming his finger between his eyebrows.

  “Then why is the assistant director of the French Directorate heading inside the Russian embassy and shaking hands with Yuri Dublinin?” asked Tom.

  “Now you believe the Russians have infiltrated the French General Directorate?” asked Wesley. “And all of this is to steal technology?”

  “That is my theory, yes. I believe Jonah Soul was the driver of that car in California,” Tom said as Crane noticed Wesley’s face change at the same time Crane’s heart sank.

  “You think he robbed Wells Fargo? That is absurd,” said Wesley. “The man’s rich. That doesn’t make any sense,” he added as Crane continued to observe his reaction, which he found odd.

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” responded Tom, “or $15 million question,” he corrected.

  “Excuse me?” Crane said, his brows furrowing.

  “Each bar of gold is worth $500,000. Thirty are missing,” explained Tom, pursing his lips.

  Crane was still frowning.

  “I’m an analyst. I deal with facts,” Tom said as the general continued processing what he was hearing. “If I’m right, Russia is trying to blindside us. Jonah may have robbed that bank as a test to see how well his asset woul
d work.”

  “Blindside us? With what?” Wesley asked.

  “Troyanskiy kon,” said Tom. “A Trojan horse.”

  “Impossible,” said Wesley. “Nobody could pull that off . . .”

  Crane raised his eyes, knowing just about anything was, indeed, possible.

  “Do we know what technology Phoenix is working on?” he asked without commenting.

  “Besides their self-driving automobile, they have developed advanced AI more sophisticated than IBM’s Watson. They call it EVE,” said Tom.

  “EVE?” Crane prompted.

  “It’s an acronym. Evolved Vehicle Eclosion.”

  Crane took a deep breath as Wesley pulled on his lower lip.

  “I suspect you have someone on Jonah?” said Crane.

  “That’s up to Director Masters. Jonah’s been unusually difficult to track without additional surveillance. We were fortunate to intercept that call in South Dakota.”

  “What about Carlos DaSilva?” Crane asked.

  “He’s been difficult to track as well,” said Wesley. “What about Murphy?”

  “We believe Richard Murphy is running Phoenix,” said Tom. “But that is speculation. He’s normally in Sunnyvale at their corporate headquarters.”

  “I believe I understand what you’re saying, Tom,” Crane said. “But what does any of this have to do with Japan’s unconditional surrender and your psychic reading?”

  “You mean the Potsdam Declaration?” asked Tom as Crane nodded. “Well, it ended World War II.”

  “That’s what I mean. So what?”

  “I believe the Russians are using it as the beginning of another war,” said Tom quietly.

  “What war?”

  “World War III.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. If the Russians were going to start WWIII, they would have done it by now.”

  “Except you think it will be a physical war.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “I’m talking about a cyber war,” Tom said. “But at a level of sophistication unheard of in history. A war fought through artificial intelligence. The one we have been warned about for years by Leon Tuss and the late Stephen Hawking.”

  “Well, gentleman, I don’t know whether to thank you or fire you? I’d prefer the latter since the implications of this are grave, but you’re doing your job. Please have this sent to me in your report, Wesley. And . . .”

  “We will keep an eye on Jonah.”

  “I’d get someone on the inside. Perhaps Mason?”

  “Mason was on the inside, sir. NASA just hired him away from Phoenix,” said Wesley.

  “Has anyone ever considered if Mason is involved?” asked Crane.

  “Mason Thomas?” asked Tom with a peculiar look. “He was vetted. Not possible.” Wesley’s look remained stoic.

  “Not possible? I’ve heard that before. Sure would explain his premonitions.”

  “You don’t really believe . . .”

  “No. Figure it out, Director. I’ve got to get back to the White House.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  

  66

  The Great Reveal

  October 2

  NASA

  Cape Canaveral, Florida

  “Good morning, Dhilan,” I said as I entered the conference room where Dhilan was working on just another day.

  He tossed a DVD onto the table.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s what I was going to ask you,” he countered, arms now folded, his face showing an intensity I hadn’t seen before, even though we’d discussed some fairly serious situations.

  “Sorry, Dhilan, more data,” I said, concerned but without knowing why. “Does this have anything to do with the premonition I had about you?” I had told Dhilan my dream about something awful happening to him.

  “No, but it does give new meaning to the idiom ‘caught with your pants down,’ or should I say ‘off.’ I thought someone had sent me some good porn until I saw you were the star,” he said.

  I froze. An indescribable feeling of distress came over me.

  A split second passed.

  “It gets worse. On the disc is a file that was apparently sent to Hassan bin Laden with code that appears to be yours.”

  This can’t be happening, I thought. My face burned, eyes stung, and gut dropped simultaneously, as if I was having some kind of PTS moment.

  “Did you send anything out of this office on . . . ,” he looked at a sheet of paper and read, “September 14th?”

  My mind was racing—my world crumbling.

  “Mason?”

  “I sent Jack a fix for their actuator,” I said, feeling like all the life had been sucked out of me.

  “The note says you made the DVD yourself and are involved with the jihadists,” he said. I watched Dhilan’s lips move but didn’t hear a word he said after “jihadists.” Dhilan was staring at me as if studying me, dissecting my reactions. He sat down, his right hand balled into a fist.

  “Are you okay? You look pale,” he asked as we exchanged looks.

  “Water . . . ,” I said. Dhilan jogged to the break room and back, then handed me a bottle. I opened it and took a long swig, trying to gather my thoughts.

  “Where’d it come from?” I finally blurted out as beads of sweat formed on my forehead, my heart racing.

  “Mexico, according to the postmark,” he said, pausing while staring into space. “Mason, I am not judging you for the video; everyone is a decision away from a lifetime of regret,” he said, pulling up the code. “The code is the issue, as if a can of worms were opened; although your stint as a spiritual advisor to the president may not survive. You’re not a terrorist, are you?” he asked as he peered at me intensely. My heart felt like a knife had sliced it in two with that comment.

  He stared at me.

  “So now you don’t trust me?” I asked, flushed. “Let me see the code.”

  For the next moment, I loaded the code.

  “What is it?” he asked, as again my heart sank.

  “It’s my code. I did this work at CEDRA but didn’t finish it until a few days ago, when Adam asked me to do it as my final act,” I said as Dhilan looked it over again.

  “Geez. Are you a traitor, Mason?”

  “Please,” I said, rolling my eyes and gaining some confidence, since I knew I was being set up, although I didn’t know why. “Think about it . . .”

  “People are so full of crap these days, who even knows who’s telling the truth?” he said as he pushed the chair back from the long table and stood up. In the seconds that followed, I wanted to find the person who’d done this and take out their eye like it said in the Old Testament “eye for an eye” passage.

  “Yeah, well, who films random encounters?” I asked, interrupting, my breathing doubling its pace from where it had been when I’d entered the room on “just another day.”

  Dhilan took a deep breath. “Just about everybody nowadays . . .”

  “Not everyone was a psycho back when this happened,” I said as I continued to scan the data. I tried to take a full breath.

  “Apparently they were.”

  “Dhilan, someone is setting me up,” I said, standing up and putting my hands on my temples.

  “So that isn’t you in the DVD?”

  “Yes, but the only contact I’ve had with Hassan bin Laden was in a dream. I’m talking about the code.”

  “Who? Why?”

  “How the heck would I know?”

  “I am going to give this to the feds. There will be an investigation. I won’t do an analysis of the code or attach the note—not yet, anyway. But you won’t be able to work at NASA until this is worked out. I’m sorry, but I’ll be in jail if I don’t turn this over. Someone’s got something on you, even if it
’s a novice and clueless shmuck. The government can no longer trust you until an investigation clears you. I’m sorry, Mason. There is no other way to handle this.”

  “What did you say about the note?”

  “What note?” he said. “Don’t worry, it will eventually turn up; just not right now, Mason. I do trust you. You’ll have a few days before the snooping connects you, since nobody but us will understand the code.”

  “Thanks, I think. What about Capucine?”

  “That will be up to you, but the meeting is still set for this Wednesday,” Dhilan answered. “I’m sorry about the timing. You won’t be able to join us.”

  “Yeah. Once it’s discovered you’ve been exposed to the plague, you’ve got it. What the hell is next?” I said, lost in thought.

  “Mason?”

  I shook my head. Then I looked back at Dhilan.

  “Think. Who would want to hurt you?” he pressed.

  “Like I said, no idea, nobody. Morons. The devil,” I said, cotton-mouthed.

  “Who has been in your life since this event happened?”

  “Nobody,” I said in haste as I headed toward the door. Then I stopped and turned around.

  “Jack Dawson.”

  

  67

  Haunting Darkness

  October 6

  Phoenix Headquarters

  Sunnyvale, California

  Jonah Soul was standing at the door of the conference room, carefully loading his pistol’s magazine with 15 rounds of bronze 9mm, FMJ, 115-grain bullets. He held the magazine in his left hand while slipping in the bullets one at a time. Once the clip was full, he slammed it into his Glock and pulled back the hammer into firing position, which put one bullet into the chamber. The gun was cocked, safety on. He stuffed it under his jacket into the back of his pants. Then he sat in silence.

  He considered the hit on Ralph Duncan several weeks ago. He wasn’t happy that he’d had to eliminate the eager beaver, but once Duncan had had his encounter with the news organization, Jonah had known what he had to do. Fortunately, his ties with the local mob had paid off since they had an insider who didn’t ask questions, just arranged the shooting by one of their military-grade assassins. Jonah was disturbed by Jack’s inability to set up Capucine in Paris, but he’d take care of that frustration in a matter of minutes. He also knew Jack’s failure wasn’t a total loss, since it would implicate Jack further when his alter ego was revealed. Jonah looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. Moments later the door opened and Adam walked in, startling him despite the fact that he was expecting him.