Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

  The two giant airliners tobogganed downward into the cloud layer, one above the other, inching nearer each other with each passing second. Baker looked at his gauges, wishing there was something he could do. But his engines were already straining with everything they had.

  Baker was about to say his final prayer when a realization hit him. By God, that’s it. We need less speed, not more.

  Praying this would work, Baker eased back on their speed, and the whine of the giant engines decreased as they slowed their thrust, allowing the other airliner to rumble past. When it did, Baker dipped the nose of his aircraft out of its jet blast and banked away to the south.

  Once they were safely away from the other jumbo, Baker felt his blood pressure return to normal. How could this have happened? He turned the question over in his mind as they leveled off. Three aircraft – two commercial airliners and a fighter jet – in near-collisions over the Pacific.

  Without any warning from Air Traffic Control.

  Baker switched channels and listened to the chatter. From the sound of things, no one else had experienced anything remotely similar. Not only that, nothing alarming was being discussed. Just normal conversations between various pilots and air traffic control. That meant no radar or satellite had observed the incident. The absence of any chatter meant the other jumbo pilot had no idea about what had just happened. The fighter pilot of course would be using one of his military channels to communicate with ground control, not that he expected the military to admit to anything. For now, at least, everything appeared normal.

  Except that it was not normal. It was not normal at all.

  How the hell could this have happened?

  “Dave, are you going to get that?” Blair asked for the third time.

  Baker replied with a blank stare, then refocused when he realized the intercom was ringing off the hook. Fists were still pounding on the cockpit door.

  “They need assurance,” said Blair. “An explanation.”

  Baker glanced toward the cockpit door, then pushed a button and brought the phone to his mouth. When Terry answered, Baker said he would make an announcement in a moment, and without waiting for a reply, clicked off and sat back with the phone still in his hand, thinking about what to say.

  In truth, there was not a lot he could say, mainly because he was clueless himself about what had actually occurred. Obviously, he could not tell passengers they had narrowly escaped two midair collisions. Reassurance, not information, he told himself. That’s what they need to hear.

  Baker brought the phone to his mouth again and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain,” he began before telling everyone how they had experienced technical difficulties but that everything was now under control. He then clicked off.

  Blair gave a start. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “That’s all they need to hear.”

  “We were nearly killed!”

  “But we weren’t,” said Baker, “and the fact that we came close is not something we’re going to be telling people right now.”

  “People need to know what happened.”

  “We don’t know what happened, and I’m not about to start fueling the fires of speculation. Here, take the controls.”

  “Why? What are you doing?”

  Baker switched radio frequencies and again put the phone to his mouth. “Finding out what the hell did happen. But if I’m right – and I hope to God I’m not – I’m guessing none of our people know.”

  “Someone has to know.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “That our GPS network has been hacked. Someone wanted us to crash.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The locked door was opened for Diane Gustaves and she was admitted into the security council meeting, where a whole alphabet soup of Federal officials, including the president, DNI Shaw, and several of the joint chiefs, were watching a bank of television monitors. The pilot of the F/A-18E was on one of the screens, his flight helmet in hand. He was speaking to a reporter against the thunder of jets from the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan. Gustaves listened to him describe the near-miss and how his instruments had shown nothing coming toward him.

  Hooray for embedded reporters, Gustaves thought with a shake of her head.

  She turned her attention to the next monitor, where a Chinese official was being interviewed, then to the next monitor, where a senior airline executive was speaking. On other monitors were more officials and experts. On others, the talking heads were having a field day with analyses and opinions. One expert was blaming climate change.

  Glancing around, Shaw saw Gustaves and threaded his way over to where she was standing.

  “This is on you!” he hissed. “A dead secretary, two near-misses over the Pacific, a computer virus infecting half of Washington. The common denominator to all of this mayhem: Talanov! And who’s responsible for bringing him aboard? You and Wilcox and that phony hearing of yours. I know what a Cold War hero you say he was. In my book, he was nothing more than a disgruntled Commie wanting to cash in big, which we were happy to accommodate because we needed information. So we used him until the Soviet empire came crashing down. But instead of kicking him to the curb, you and Wilcox open the gates of the city, and in he comes, like the Trojan Horse that he is. And now this.”

  Shaw drew to within inches of Gustaves’ face.

  “You will pay for this, Madam Congresswoman,” he vowed, “and so will Talanov. Now, get him back here so that I can lock his sorry ass behind bars until we determine exactly what part he played.”

  And with a parting sneer, Shaw made his way back to the front of the room, where he joined the circle of advisors surrounding the president.

  A few people glanced discreetly at Gustaves. She smiled awkwardly, glanced at her watch, and left the room.

  Out in the corridor, Gustaves made her way to the women’s bathroom, where she leaned over the sink and stared at herself in the mirror, knowing she would forever bear the guilt of what had happened to Amber. She also knew this was not the time for grief. Right now, she had work to do.

  With a quick glance to make sure no one else was in the bathroom, Gustaves took out her cell phone and dialed a private number that was routed through an encrypted bandwidth in the CIA’s Advanced Extremely High Frequency network, which utilized a constellation of satellites operated by the United States Air Force. The call was answered on the first ring by Charlie, who was still at her desk at Langley. She had been watching the live feed of news reports being broadcast from the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan.

  “Charlie, this is Diane,” Gustaves said.

  “Yes, Madam Congresswoman?” answered Charlie, sitting forward and muting the news.

  “I take it you’ve heard?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There’s a reason I’m calling you on a secure line. This conversation stays between us.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “The virus. Tell me what happened.”

  “I’ve walked the cat backward and confirmed their point of entry to be Amber’s laptop. What I didn’t realize until a few minutes ago was that they planted what I call an onion virus – one with many layers – with the center being where the real danger lies, like a bore worm, with the outer layers keeping us occupied long enough for the bore worm to do its work, which in this instance was entry into and control of our GPS network by way of classified access in your name, which spoofed us into thinking our planes were on course when in fact they weren’t.”

  “Forgive me, Charlie, but I’m exhausted. Can you translate that into something I can understand?”

  “Of course, ma’am. As you know, navigation these days – both civilian and military – depends on electronic signals broadcast via our global positioning satellites, which we call GPS. The hackers, whoever they are, took control of our GPS signal by way of Amber’s laptop, where they were able to redirect those planes t
oward one another without any of the pilots realizing it.”

  “So they weren’t just looking for Talanov?”

  “They want him, no question, although we don’t yet know why. But they specifically targeted you because they also wanted access to our GPS network, which is what Amber’s laptop provided.”

  “But Amber did not have access.”

  “No, ma’am, but yours did, and she had access to yours via our secure intranet. She had obviously saved your passwords and access codes on her laptop, and once inside our system, they fed in false coordinates for the selected aircraft while invisibly steering them toward one another. That’s why no one picked it up. All instruments – on board the aircraft and on the ground – kept receiving the false coordinates, while a separate signal – a cloaked signal – took over their steering. Quick thinking on the parts of the fighter pilot and one of the commercial pilots kept this from becoming a catastrophe.”

  “Do we know yet who was behind this?”

  “The signal appears to have originated in Beijing, although I detected ghost trails back through several other servers in several other cities, so at this point, I’m not really sure.”

  “Is the Chinese government behind this?” asked Gustaves.

  “Someone wants it to look that way.”

  “But you don’t agree?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

  “Why is that?”

  “A number of keyword intercepts enabled my software to have recorded a partial conversation between an unidentified male in Hong Kong and an unidentified female in San Francisco. That recording makes me think Dragon Head is behind this. Terms and phrases were used, such as the USS Ronald Reagan, Babikov, electronic mirrors, Shenzhen, Kunming, Chengdu, Nunjing, Qingdao, Beijing, and Straw Sandal, plus something called Shāng Yī – which translates to Entropy One – plus the repeated use of Talanov’s name.”

  “Talanov’s name was part of that communication thread? You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He and Shāng Yī were the two main subjects of conversation, along with several references to Straw Sandal. Factored together with everything we know, this unmistakably links Dragon Head with both the USS Ronald Reagan and Talanov. What the connection is, I’m not yet sure.”

  “This definitely ups the ante on questioning Talanov. Has Bill managed to locate him yet?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but there’s a problem. Some kind of an attack by Dragon Head’s people.”

  “What happened? Was anyone hurt?”

  “Bill didn’t elaborate. He said he would fill me in later, although he did confirm that one of the women who murdered Amber had been taken prisoner.”

  “This changes everything,” said Gustaves. “We need to question Talanov and that woman. In fact . . . hang on a minute.” Putting Charlie on hold, Gustaves dialed Wilcox, but after two rings, the call went to voicemail. Gustaves left Wilcox an urgent message for him to bring Talanov and his female prisoner back to DC for questioning, saying this was Alpha Priority. After ending the call, Gustaves reconnected with Charlie and said, “I tried reaching Bill but the call went to voicemail.”

  “Want me to keep trying?”

  “I left him a message to bring Talanov and his prisoner back to DC for questioning. In the meantime, we’ll keep giving Bill whatever help he requires, by whatever means.”

  “Of course, ma’am, but when you say, by whatever means, what exactly are you referring to?”

  “Are you willing to bend some rules?” asked Gustaves. “Full disclosure: it could land us in a shit-storm of trouble.”

  “Great sales pitch. Count me in. What do you need me to do?”

  “Set up shop away from the office. What we’ll need from you – and by ‘we’ I mean Bill and I – are results – i.e., information – by whatever means are required to obtain that information. You will be housed in an offsite facility, away from prying eyes.”

  “I assume you mean Shaw, and, no, I’m not asking you to confirm that. What I would like to know is whether this offsite facility will be properly wired and equipped.”

  “It already is,” said Gustaves, “including a secure line through an encrypted bandwidth so that we can talk freely. Let me know if there’s anything else.”

  “Does an espresso machine count?”

  Gustaves smiled. “I’ll have one delivered. With a supply of organic, shade-grown, fair-trade, single-plantation Central American espresso beans.”

  “Madam Congresswoman, you never cease to amaze me.”

  “I feel the same about you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “From this point on, it’s total secrecy. Our eyes only. Yours, mine, and Bill’s.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “Alex is already on very thin ice with Shaw, so we need to control what happens next – i.e., the questioning – and I cannot emphasize that enough. There’s a connection between Talanov, Dragon Head, and that virus, and we need to find out what it is.”

  “Do you think Dragon Head will strike again?”

  “I think he’s just getting started.”

  CHAPTER 34

  On their way to the motel room, Zak stopped by several ATMs, where Talanov withdrew his limit in cash from each of the machines. Zak was careful to park in blind spots away from the surveillance cameras, and after Talanov was finished, continued south for another twenty minutes before turning east on the 92.

  Following the map on Talanov’s phone, they took an exit ramp, turned right, then wound their way past some industrial parks and apartment complexes to the motel, where Zak parked in another darkened blind spot, next to an office building that shared the same parking lot. Unlike the motel, which was a relic of the eighties, the office building was sleek and white and triangular-shaped, like a stealth bomber, with seven rows of what looked like dark slits for windows. There were a few other vehicles parked around the building, but for the most part, the lot was dark and empty.

  Once Zak switched off the engine, Talanov outlined what was going to happen. He would take Straw Sandal to Hong Kong and negotiate the release of Su Yin. Everyone else would remain with Zak.

  “The first order of business,” said Talanov, “is making sure you’re all safe. And that means disappearing completely.”

  “How did they find us?” asked Jingfei. “I mean, we know they were looking for you, but how did they know where to look?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out.”

  Talanov handed his money to Zak and told him to use it for whatever was needed.

  “It should last a few weeks,” said Talanov, “and if you need more, I’ll get it to you.”

  Zak nodded and pocketed the money.

  “What do you mean, disappear?” asked Kai.

  “Someplace remote. Where nobody knows who you are.”

  “You mean, like, out in the woods?”

  “One of our donors owns a cabin in Twain Harte,” said Zak, “which is a charming mountain village east of here.”

  “From now on, you purchase everything with cash,” said Talanov. “No credit cards, no bank cards, no phone calls to clients or friends. Nothing that can be traced. Keep to yourselves and stay inside. You’re not there to make friends. You’re there to disappear until this is over.”

  “How long will that take?” asked Kai.

  “A week, maybe two. Hopefully, not longer.”

  Talanov looked out the window and saw Wilcox standing in a dark spot near the motel office. His face was not visible although his silhouette was unmistakable.

  “Okay,” said Talanov, “let’s go inside.”

  “Can we sit here for a minute?” asked Kai.

  Talanov looked over his shoulder and saw Kai huddled in the corner, arms crossed like he was cold, his hands tucked out of sight.

  “Sure,” said Talanov with an understanding smile.

  Talanov knew why Kai wanted to linger. The familiarity of Zak’s old van made him feel safe. His home, the communi
ty center, was now a murder scene. His sister had been kidnapped. His whole world was being threatened. Except this old van, and not just because it was Zak’s van, but because the people he loved were all here, too, except for Su Yin, with her absence only heightening the importance of being anchored in the one remaining place he felt safe.

  “May I see that picture again?” asked Jingfei, leaning forward between Ginie and Emily. “The one the kidnapper sent of Su Yin?”

  Talanov handed his phone to Jingfei, who opened the image and scrutinized the photo.

  “Something wrong?” Talanov asked, reading Jingfei’s troubled expression.

  “This image came as an attachment to a text message, right?” asked Jingfei, returning the phone.

  “Yeah,” said Talanov just as Wilcox rapped hard on Talanov’s window, scaring everyone.

  Seeing it was Wilcox, Talanov rolled down his window and said, “Quit creeping around like that.”

  “How long are you going to keep sitting out here?”

  “We’re coming in now.”

  After rolling up his window, Talanov opened his door and stepped out just as Ginie opened the side door and did the same. After everyone had gathered together, Talanov asked Wilcox for the key card, which he handed to Zak. “Go on ahead,” he said. “Bill and I need to talk.”

  “And our guest?” asked Zak over the muffled cries of Straw Sandal kicking against the rear door of the van.

  “I’ll bring her inside when I come. She still sounds a little upset.”

  Zak took Talanov by the arm and led him a few steps away. “I need a favor,” he said.

  “Of course,” said Talanov. “What is it?”

  “I need to know you’ll take care of these kids if something happens to me.”

  “Nothing is going to happen. That’s why you’re taking them to the mountains.”