by J C Ryan
Finally, Rehka could help him get wherever he needed to go in the most expeditious time. Much more easily than he could arrange the travel, especially if he needed yet another set of identification papers. Digger would also require false papers if the destinations were other than India, Thailand, or Peru, where he’d been recently. All that took time, and he might not have much time.
He arrived at the hut a step behind Digger, who’d figured out their destination several hundred yards ago. He took the time to praise Digger and let him out of his harness, give him some water, and stuff the Kong with dried fish nibbles to keep the dog occupied. Then he called Rehka.
Rehka had equipped them both with encrypted satellite phones. Rex’s phone was encased in a shockproof and waterproof casing, because he would be out and about in nature and some rough places with his phone. Hers was daintier and looked like a normal mobile phone.
The phones’ ringers were set to sound like a normal smartphone. On close inspection of the two phones, however, it was evident that the phones were programmed with only the other phone’s number. Rehka had only Rex’s number on her phone, and Rex had only Rehka’s number on his.
If someone were really, really technical, understood the latest and greatest in secure communications and encryptions, and had a lot of time, he might have been able to figure out that every call made through these phones were end-to-end protected. Each phone had an encryption app, developed by Rehka, running on it. Each app had encryption keys, and they expected and accepted only keys from the app on the other phone. In other words, it was impossible for a man-in-the-middle attack to be successful.
Apart from the encryption, the signals from the phones were digitized and sent over the Internet through a heavily encrypted virtual private network tunnel, which was routed and rerouted through no less than twelve virtual telephone switches located across the globe. Only after a worldwide tour through a maze of virtual telephone-switch destinations did the signal arrive at the sender’s or receiver’s phone, though the trip took less than a second.
It was not impossible to tap into their conversations, but to do it someone would need one of the phones in his hand, he’d need the password to unlock the phone, and he’d need to know the passphrases, which Rex and Rehka had agreed beforehand. He’d have to give that passphrase to the other party when they made the connection and before they would say anything. The passphrases were set up to sound like a normal greeting between two normal people about to have a normal conversation, but certain words in the phrases would signal if the other party was under duress or not. That is, any mention of weather meant things were okay. No mention of the weather meant things were not okay.
“Good afternoon, boss,” she answered with her usual cheer. “What can I do for you?”
Rex started by telling her how great the weather was in Vanuatu. Rehka responded with, “You know what Mumbai’s weather is like. Always the same. Hot and lots of rain.”
With the security checks out of the way, Rex explained as succinctly as he could, giving Rehka the assignments in the order he wanted them completed. When he was done, he asked her to repeat it back to him, to be sure she’d missed nothing. Her repetition was letter perfect.
“How soon can you get all this?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll update you in an hour or so with progress and give you an estimate of how long it will take.”
“Great! I’ll wait up for your call.”
Rex sighed as he ended the call. For the next hour, there was nothing at all he could do about Margot. He began pacing.
Maybe I should take Digger for another play on the beach? He’s earned it.
Chapter 22
Paris, France
IN THE AFTERMATH of the elections, President Aguillard had gone about his business after Margot left, and he’d been too busy to notice her vacation had extended beyond what they’d discussed. However, when Paris police were notified of her disappearance, and they informed him, his attention was forced back to her.
Maybe she’d been found by reporters and took off where they couldn’t find her again?
However, a few days later, things took a turn for the worse when the senior detective who’d gone to investigate the disappearance phoned and gave the news to Aguillard and his best friend, the Prime Minister, of the conclusion that she’d most likely drowned in a swimming accident. He delicately hinted that there would be no way to recover a body in those waters, without outright saying that predators would have consumed it. Aguillard was an intelligent man, though, and he managed to contain his horror and grief, presenting only a mask of the correct measure of sorrow that a close and trusted colleague had died.
He wasted no time in assigning the assistant as temporary Press Secretary while he sought out a more appropriate person to succeed Margot. Only after the day had ended and his wife had gone to bed did he give way to his real feelings. But to his surprise, they weren’t as deep as he’d thought. The dalliance with Margot had been a convenient outlet for his stress during the campaign. She was a beautiful woman, certainly, but nothing could come of their relationship, especially now that he was in office.
Public knowledge of the relationship would be disastrous, not only on a personal level, given his wife’s family money and its importance in his ambitions, but also within the party. The French people might forgive him—after all, l’amour was as stereotypically French as the Eiffel Tower or cheese and wine. But the party had certain standards of morality that they advocated, and that he’d acclaimed from every podium for years—the party would forsake him over something like that in a heartbeat.
With the party’s support, he could look forward to ten secure years as President—two terms, followed by a lucrative career as a highly-paid speaker. His autobiography would sell, along with any political treatise he wrote thereafter. Oh, yes, his life would be charmed, but only if this indiscretion of his remained a secret. Now that he thought of it, sad as it was, Margot’s death might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. He’d had his regrets about his inanity, letting his hormones dictate his judgment, and often he’d been agonizing over the possibility that she might tell all in an act of revenge someday. These types of improprieties, sooner or later, always found their way to the surface. But this way, heartbreaking as it was, there’d be no messy ending of the relationship, and no chance of it being discovered.
He turned out his study lamp and made his way to the bedroom where his wife lay sleeping. As a sop to his guilty conscience, he kissed her forehead as he settled in to sleep.
Had he known it was the calm before the storm, he would not have closed his eyes that night. Not that it would have helped much.
***
ONCE THE REPORT about Margot Lemaire’s presumed death reached the news media in Vanuatu, an alert news desk clerk for France24, a major TV station, who was assigned to watch international news for items of interest to France, picked up the tidbit and reported to his immediate supervisor. The supervisor recognized they had only a few minutes, at most, for a scoop. He pitched it to the news anchor, who instructed his assistant to phone the detective he recognized from the Vanuatuan news clips.
Less than half an hour later, TV programming was interrupted with the familiar Breaking News banners. In shopping districts where TVs were displayed, pandemonium ensued. Margot Lemaire was a popular figure in France, and particularly in Paris, where her face was as familiar to viewers as their own in the mirror.
Reporters flocked to the Élysée Palace demanding to know why they hadn’t been notified of the death, and the President was forced to declare a day of mourning, with flags lowered to half-mast. For a minor government official who hadn’t yet done anything of distinction except get a popular man elected as President, it was unprecedented.
Speculation about the circumstances would continue for weeks, until another juicy news story came along, and then, like people everywhere, most simply forgot about Margot Lemaire.
Chapter 23
; Port Vila, Vanuatu
TRUE TO HER word, Rehka called back in an hour. Rex was strolling back to the hut in the moonlight, Digger happily at his heels after a night time frolic on the beach. Unsure when she would call, Rex had taken the phone with him despite the weight in his beach shorts pocket.
After the usual weather passphrase followed by banter that indicated both were alone and not under duress, she got right down to business, first explaining that he had an early morning flight to Brisbane, Australia, thence to Mumbai.
“I’m sure you’re aware there are several private enterprises as well as government agencies that track shipping traffic across the globe. I’ve managed to document every vessel that was in Vanuatu on the last day you saw your friend and for now limited my search to those that have left on that day and the day after. I’m going through the satellite feeds now. By the time you get here, I’ll have it narrowed down enough to hack into their communications. When you’re here, you can help determine which one has your friend aboard.”
“Excellent work, Rehka. Remind me to give you a raise.”
Her tinkle of a laugh echoed down the link. “You gave me a raise last time.”
“Well, it’s time for another. Okay, I take it my boarding pass is at will-call?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks. I’ll start packing. It won’t take long. Traveling light, you know.” ‘Light’ was a relative term. What with Digger, his travel crate, dishes, harness and leashes, and the coms gear that went everywhere with them, there wasn’t much room left for items he could always pick up or borrow if he needed them only rarely.
“See you soon,” she said, giving Rex the impression she was anxious to get back to work.
“Yes, see you soon. Digger will be happy to see you.”
“And you won’t?” she teased.
“Of course, I will. Bye.”
Rex was grinning as he ended the call. Rehka had that effect on him. She was always a breath of fresh air when the situations he sometimes found himself in stank.
Rex hurried back to the hut to pack. Digger’s excitement made it clear that he has sensed a new adventure coming.
That night, Rex slept better than he had in the past week. Thanks to Rehka, he had a solid chance of finding Margot and getting to the bottom of this mystery.
Chapter 24
Mumbai, India
WHILE SHE WAITED for her boss to arrive, Rehka wasted no time. The man she knew as Ruan Daniels, her friend and rescuer, was an exacting but very fair employer. Some things he told her, others she surmised. He was a mysterious man, but one she respected and admired greatly. And one she didn’t want to disappoint.
Before she picked him up at the airport, Rehka wanted to have the fourteen vessels that had left Port Vila narrowed to no more than a handful for the SIGINT surveillance she and Rex would need to conduct if they were to find this woman he was determined to locate. Rex had told her that the witnesses all said it was a yacht she boarded, though the descriptions varied. Therefore, she eliminated the cruise ship and cargo vessels that had departed.
That brought the number down to an even dozen. Of those, two were too small to be ocean-going. They were probably pleasure yachts owned by locals that had departed for other islands in the Vanuatu archipelago. She eliminated those on the grounds that the other islands had been searched for the woman and came up empty.
That left ten, twice as many as she wanted to present to Rex by the time he touched down in Mumbai. She was able to determine through ownership records and specs on the yacht features that only eight of the remaining vessels had Internet capability. The other two she set aside for later investigation in case the woman wasn’t aboard one of those whose communications she could tap into.
Rehka put in a solid few hours of work after speaking with Rex, and then went to bed, knowing that once he left Brisbane, Australia, at nine a.m. the following morning, she’d have fifteen hours before he arrived locally. Admittedly, two or three of those hours would be devoted to finishing her night’s sleep. But that was plenty of time.
Rehka had routed Rex through Singapore, saving up to an hour over other routes. That was in case time became an issue, though if the woman was being taken almost anywhere in this part of the world, Rex would arrive days beforehand. Logic told her no one would be sailing east, as that would be a journey of almost six-thousand miles to a major land mass such as South or North America.
Just as well, too. Tracking a yacht in that vastness wouldn’t be easy.
The next morning, she got an early start and established that two of the yachts would stop in Australia where they would dock to undergo maintenance as their owners and guests departed to explore Australia for a month. She tracked each passenger through credit card usage and determined that it was unlikely Margot Lemaire was one of them. It was possible she was using a different name and a credit card established in that name, but it was improbable under the circumstances Rex had described.
That left six more for her to find through vulnerabilities in their communications networks and establish listening posts. Six was a stretch in the hours between then and the time she was to pick up Rex. Even if all she did was get the hacks set up and start recording them, it would be a big head start when Rex joined her to help her listen in.
***
REX TOOK A moment to stretch his legs upon disembarking from the plane. They’d stopped in Singapore, but headwinds had delayed their arrival, so the crew requested anyone traveling on to Mumbai remain on the aircraft. Rex could barely stand in the aisle for the few minutes between the other passengers getting off and new passengers getting on.
He could only imagine Digger’s discomfort. As soon as he’d restored circulation to his legs, he hurried to the cargo area to retrieve his dog. Digger was so glad to see him. He had to command him to sit twice before Digger settled down. It was all Rex could do to calm him before opening the cage door. The first time, Digger sat, but sprang up again as soon as Rex’s hand went to the catch on the door. Rex didn’t want him charging through the door and startling other passengers.
“I’m glad to see you, too, boy. Let’s get you some food and a chance to run.”
Digger’s behavior indicated he’d understood and agreed, but maybe the priority was reversed.
Rex knew Rehka would be in the terminal somewhere to meet him, and he called to let her know where he and Digger were waiting for his other luggage. In a few minutes, she arrived, breathless, and Rex had his hands full to keep Digger from jerking the leash out of his hand in his eagerness to get to Rehka when he saw her.
She gave Digger an enthusiastic hug through his licking, yelps, and whines of excitement. Finally, when Digger calmed down, she was able to hug Rex and kiss him on the cheek. She offered to take Digger to find a spot for his relief, while Rex continued to wait for the carousel to start disgorging bags, and Digger was more than happy to go with her.
Sucker for beautiful women—just like his master. Rex smiled as the thought crossed his mind.
It was not quite dinnertime, but the flight had been long, and Rex wanted to decompress before hearing Rehka’s report. He suggested she drive him to his studio apartment, where he could unpack, freshen up, and then join her at her apartment where she could show him her progress. Then they’d go out for dinner, leaving Digger in the apartment. After dinner, they’d begin combing the data her passive listening had picked up to see if they could narrow the six yachts to fewer. One way or another, they’d have to work through the recordings as quickly as possible, until they found the right yacht or caught up with real time communications.
Rex couldn’t fault her logic that the yacht wouldn’t have reached its destination yet, but they had no idea on which yacht she was and where it was headed, neither did they have any idea if Margot was in danger or not.
As far as Rex was concerned, and Rehka agreed, they were up against the clock.
Chapter 25
Mumbai, India
EARLY THE NEXT m
orning, Rex kicked lightly at Rehka’s apartment door. He was juggling a box of Indian pastries, one large takeaway coffee for himself and an Indian masala chai tea made from cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, black tea, sugar and milk for Rehka. He also had Digger’s lunch, a roasted chicken, and his harness and leash, which he’d brought along for breaks, so they could walk Digger in a nearby park.
Rehka opened the door, laughed out loud at Rex’s predicament, and took the drinks off his hands, freeing him from the imminent danger of scalding his feet if he dropped them. She stood aside for him to enter the apartment and shouldered the door shut after Digger followed him in.
Setting the drinks on a nearby table, she bent to greet Digger, who returned the gesture with great enthusiasm. Rehka laughed again at his antics.
“Any news?” Rex asked. He assumed she’d have been up for an hour or more, and her answer confirmed he was correct.
“I’ve been able to eliminate two more of the signals I’ve been tracking. One was from a flybridge that I thought was marginal in the first place. This morning I confirmed it is occupied by a retired couple, who have stopped for some fishing in the Gulf of Carpentaria.”
The Gulf of Carpentaria was the shallow sea off the coast of northern Australia between Australia and Papua New Guinea.
“Okay, yeah, sounds like that isn’t the one.”
“The other turned south and is headed along the southern coast of Australia toward Melbourne.”
“Why did you eliminate that one?”
“Gut feeling, mostly. It appears to be a party of old friends, three couples, who are playing poker, drinking, and talking about sailing all the way around Australia.”
“That’s going to take them a while, it’s an enormous country.” Rex smiled. “And I’d say your gut feeling is right. That one wouldn’t be carrying her, either.”
