The Wolves of Freydis

by J C Ryan

  Miller opened his mouth to say something then closed it and sat back in his chair. Stepping things up last time is what got us into trouble.

  Gordon saw Miller was ill at ease. “You don’t look comfortable with that request Dwayne; what’s bothering you?”

  “It might be a bit tight to pull it off in six weeks. However, I’ll …”

  Gordon interjected. “Wait, sorry. I didn’t mean they want to complete the operation in six weeks’ time, only that they want a detailed plan in six weeks.”

  “Oh okay, I understand,” Miller breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll get to work on it immediately and will keep you posted.”

  “There’s just one more thing to be aware of, Dwayne; NTC says his friend told him he is going to pull all the Saudi Arabia contracts if we fail again.” Gordon got up, thanked Dwayne for the coffee, and left.

  Miller dropped his head into his hands, elbows on his desk. Swell. Over the past few weeks, he’d spent many hours pondering his resignation from CRS. Getting a doctor’s certificate confirming a fake health issue that prevented him from continuing his work might do it. If the doctor booked him into a private clinic and while there, he handed in his resignation he could relax. He had enough money to retire, not quite as comfortably as he would have liked, but there was enough.

  There was only one thing that prevented him from doing it. He was sure that neither Nate Gordon nor any of the other four directors would accept his resignation.

  His CEO role at CRS was a tacit until-death-do-us-part job.

  ***

  After the meeting with James in Hamburg, Ben Friedman had briefed his operatives in Greece to put the tabs on Professor Anatolio Kakos. It took them a few days to set things up, but then the information started filtering through to Ben.

  He kept James up to date with their progress. After two weeks of observations, which included not only following Kakos, but also getting access to all his electronic records, computers, emails, and phones, a picture of the real man emerged.

  Professor Anatolio Kakos was not only an academic interested in rare books; his primary interest was rare artifacts, and he didn’t mind crossing ethical divides to get his hands on them. He had a solid network of legal and illegal artifact dealers who were happy to pay good money for genuine items.

  Carter, James, and Irene had gathered to discuss Ben’s first report.

  “Look at this,” James said. He was pointing at the financial section of the report. “He has offshore accounts in the Bahamas, how convenient.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if we find a bank account or two in Switzerland as well,” Irene commented. “On the other hand, he probably knows that Switzerland is the first place people will look if they investigate him. The Bahamas have tight banking secrecy due to their privacy laws which makes it an excellent alternative to Switzerland.”

  “Well, looking at the financial transactions going through his Bahama accounts over the past year, he has been doing well for himself,” James noted. “It’s very clear that his full-time job at the University is not nearly as lucrative as his part-time job.”

  They were looking at his contacts and associates when Carter said.

  “Hang on, here’s a name I’ve seen before; Mark Miller. He’s the guy who had a little side business dealing in stolen artifacts at the Cusco dig. Jacob caught him red-handed, and he was fired. In fact, he was arrested and as far as I know he is in jail.”

  “Well, looking at the last date he and Kakos were talking to each other, Miller is either dealing out of a prison cell with a telephone and internet connection, or he is not in jail anymore,” James grinned.

  “Yes, look at this,” Irene said. “The contact dates coincide with the time when that article about the Sirralnnudam was published, a few weeks before and a week or so after.”

  “Let’s see if any financial transactions were going on at the same time,” Carter said. “Here you go; $5,000 was deposited into his Bahama account three days after the date of this article. It came from a Swiss account.”

  “Mark Miller has just appeared on our radar,” James said.

  Irene nodded. “I’ll brief Sean and Dylan.”

  ***

  Xavier Algosaibi smiled from ear to ear when he saw the title of the unencrypted folder on his computer. It was a good thing I went to Washington. I haven’t lost my powers of persuasion yet.

  Professor Devereux’s latest reports had him excited. Although there was no direct evidence of an ancient nuke, Devereux’s arguments about the advanced technological state of the civilization of the Giants held a lot of promise. In the end, they might not have had a nuclear weapon, but they might have had something similar, maybe even more powerful.

  How will we ever know unless Professor Devereux returns to the site and finds it?

  The Institute of Scientific Research and Development, six miles south of Mecca, was less than 500 miles from the City of Lights. A Special Forces team from Hassan Al-Suleiman’s army would be able to get in and out of the City of Lights before the Egyptians could blink an eye.

  I’ll ask my friend to hasten Professor Devereux’s return to Egypt.

  Chapter 49 -

  The book is ready

  Dylan was overseeing the Canadian operation to collect information about the drones that were spying on the occupants of Freydis.

  The two operators were doing an excellent job. They’d completed the first part of the mission in Toronto, collecting all the information about CanSec, the company who owned the drones and whose operators were controlling them as they soared over Freydis. They’d also obtained the detailed floor plans of the headquarters, took hundreds of photos of the employees, their vehicles, and carefully noted their office routine and security measures.

  During the second part of the mission, they had relocated to Quebec and set themselves up a few miles away from the farmhouse where the drone operators controlled the drones on their flights over Freydis, 25 miles away.

  The two men were constantly in contact with Dylan. They were able to establish the drone operators’ routine and reported the two men as indolent, slack individuals who were undoubtedly bored out of their brains. They also didn’t have the slightest clue that the roles had changed somewhat, and they had now become the watched.

  Dylan’s men were able to get inside the farmhouse one night and planted a few microphones around.

  When Carter, Roy, and Andre returned to DC, the drone operators suspended their observation activities and returned to Toronto for a bit of R&R. Dylan’s men used the opportunity to bug the farmhouse appropriately and then returned to DC.

  ***

  Ben Friedman had a report about the Middle Eastern laboratories ready for James and called him to advise him to expect the report. He requested that James call him back after he had read it so they could decide on the appropriate action.

  When Rick told him the information had arrived and had been decrypted, James and Irene met with Sean and Dylan at a safe house to discuss the contents.

  “So we have five labs of interest,” James said after they’d all read the report. “The labs in Syria and Iraq which they were interested in before have all been destroyed, no activities going on there anymore.”

  “You have to admire those Mossad guys,” Sean smiled, “they are good. Recruiting insiders onsite at all those labs across the Middle East couldn’t have been an easy task.”

  “When it comes to intelligence gathering, we can learn a lot from them,” James replied. “They are unrivaled; I suppose you have to be when you live in the midst of almost 300 million people who want to obliterate your country.”

  Sean nodded. “That’s for sure. You must be doing something right to survive overwhelming odds like that for so long.”

  “Looking at the five labs he discussed in his report,” Dylan said, “it seems as if we can put the two in Iran and the one in Riyadh on the back burner for now. From his report, I’m satisfied that they know what is going on in those labs
, and their intel suggests there is nothing untoward. However, the information about the remaining two, that lab in Jordan and that one there in the Southwest of Saudi Arabia near Mecca seem to be a bit flimsy. What do you reckon?” Dylan looked at James, Irene, and Sean in turn.

  James nodded. “Yes, I agree. I’m a little bit surprised that the lab in Jordan is on their watch list. Israel and Jordan signed a peace agreement in 1994 and since then they have always maintained good relations. On the other hand, the Jordanian population is mostly Palestinian, and they despise Israel.

  “Israel’s relationship with Saudi Arabia has been very different from their relations with Jordan. As a result of Saudi Arabia’s refusal to recognize the State of Israel’s right to exist within its current borders, the diametrically opposing views have assured that there are no diplomatic relations between them.

  “The only alliance between them is covert, behind-the-scenes diplomatic and intelligence cooperation, and that is only because of their mutual fear of the expansion of regional influence by Iran. Although they try to keep it secret, we know that the Saudis have promised to provide Israel with an air corridor and air bases for rescue helicopters, tanker aircraft and drones in the event Israel decides to bomb Iran’s nuclear plants.”

  “Politics sometimes make for strange bedfellows don’t they,” Sean chuckled. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend I guess.”

  “Sean, didn’t you mention a while ago that you have a few Desert Phantoms on standby?” James asked. “I think we need to get them to go and check out that lab close to Mecca and see if Ben can get some of his contacts to get more information about the one in Jordan. I think he would prefer to stay out of Saudi Arabia if at all possible.”

  Sean nodded. “Yes, they’re ready. They are in Muscat, the capital of Oman. From there to Mecca is a three-hour flight. If you would, get as much information as possible that is available about this place, including satellite images et cetera, from Ben, while Dylan and I see what we can collect from CIA sources, then we’ll brief the Phantoms.”

  ***

  Dylan’s contact called him to come over and inspect the faux ancient copy of the Sirralnnudam, which he had painstakingly been creating over the past five weeks. Dylan was impressed; he had no expertise in ancient relics, he could only make a visual comparison between the pictures that Mackenzie had taken of the original book, and the one he was looking at now. He had a keen eye for detail, but he could not spot any inconsistencies. Every bit of detail he could see on the pictures was present in the real book; he was more than happy to pay the artisan.

  With the book and the detailed information about Professor Anatolio Kakos in hand, they were ready to proceed.

  James looked at Irene and tried to suppress a smile. “Irene, I’ve been thinking how we should go about setting this all up.”

  She nodded, “Tell us about it.”

  “We should get an old lady to email Kakos and tell him she’s got the Sirralnnudam. She inherited a whole library of rare books from her grandfather, and it was one of them.”

  “Okay, so far so good,” she replied. “Who is the old lady?”

  Carter, who was watching James’ face, saw what was coming, stifled a snicker and glanced at Sean and Dylan, who were already hiding their faces behind their coffee mugs. Their twinkling eyes gave them away.

  James went quiet and stared at Irene. She looked at him, waiting for an answer but as he didn’t offer one, she looked at the other three who were also staring at her and then it dawned on her. “James Rhodes! Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to-? Are you serious?” She looked at each of them in turn, trying to find support; maybe even a little sympathy, but she would’ve found a lot more empathy in the face of the Sphinx.

  She tried again; opening her mouth to protest, only to close it again without uttering a word. They all started laughing. Fortunately, Irene was a good sport and joined them in the fun, explaining in between their bouts of laughter how many different forms of pain she intended to inflict on the four of them.

  Once the fun was over, and Irene had forced four half-hearted apologies out of them, they discussed the details. Despite the initial shock to her and the subsequent humor, Irene agreed to be the front person in the sting operation. After all, she had been an experienced CIA field operative, and although she’d never had to present herself as an old woman with a walking stick, bad hearing, and bad eyesight, she was capable of playing the role.

  ***

  Professor Kakos could feel the surge of excitement when he saw the email heading – Copy of the Sirralnnudam – among the other emails in his inbox.

  When he wrote the article and received $5,000 for his effort, he was almost sure he’d never hear another word about it. Now he was looking at a potential $25,000 payday. All he had to do was persuade this widow to let him make a copy of the book. He didn’t have any idea why an artifact dealer would want to pay so much for a copy, but for $25,000 he was more than happy to get it, ask no questions, and keep his mouth shut. If only all of his assignments were so easy.

  The only inconvenience would be that he had to fly to Washington DC to meet with Margaret O’Connell, an octogenarian widow whose physician wouldn’t allow her to travel to Greece.

  However, Professor Kakos had been in the artifacts business long enough, and had burned his fingers enough times to know how this game was played. Before he would even consider booking flights anywhere, he wanted proof. Therefore, he asked Margaret O’Connell to send him a few pictures; he wished to see the cover, the table of contents, a few pages, and the back cover. The more pictures she could send him the better.

  The email conversations back and forth with Margaret, and of course in secret to his client, to get Professor Kakos to the point where he was convinced that she indeed was in possession of the Sirralnnudam, took more than two weeks. The final evidence that swayed him to book his flights was the picture of Margaret holding the book in her hand next to that day’s edition of the Washington Times, the date on the newspaper and the headline news of the day, clearly visible.

  He would meet Margaret for lunch in three days’ time at an elegant little French restaurant on Wisconsin Ave in Tenleytown, Washington, DC.

  On the one hand, he was a bit worried that Margaret didn’t want to set a price for a copy of the book. She just kept insisting that he ‘first have a look at it and make sure it is indeed the book you want, and then we can talk price.’ On the other hand, he appreciated the fact that she was not much interested in the money; maybe there was an opportunity for him to make a bit more out of the deal. How would his client ever know what price he’d agreed to with her?

  ***

  Once Ben Friedman’s operatives got access to Professor Kakos’ computers, his life and actions became an open book to them as they tracked every one of his communications and activities. They had a copy of his email contacts, his phone contacts, and email archives, everything he ever did on his computer since the day he bought it.

  They saw Margaret O’Connell’s email arriving and ‘followed’ him around on his computer as he logged into one of his many Gmail accounts and left an email message in the drafts folder for his client. It was an old trick, used by spies and terrorists. At one point, quite a few years ago, it was a fairly secure method of hiding messages, but it didn’t last long. The Mossad, CIA, and other intelligence agencies knew about the practice and figured out how to overcome it. With access to Kakos’ computer, it was a no-brainer; they didn’t even need special software or favors from Internet Service Providers or the NSA.

  They waited for Kakos’ client to visit the email account, and when he did about 18 hours later, they scanned the IP address of his computer and passed it on to Rick Winslow. It took Rick less than 30 minutes to track the man down where he lived in New York and provide his details to Sean and Dylan. It was Mark Miller, the person who was supposed to be in jail for illegally selling artifacts from the Cusco dig in Peru.

  However, this situation
was different from what Miller did in Cusco; this time there was nothing illegal about Miller’s or for that matter, Kakos’ actions, to get a copy of the Sirralnnudam.

  With Rick’s help, tabs were placed on Mark Miller, and by the time Professor Kakos was en route to DC, Sean and Dylan knew everything there was to know about him; right down to his shoe size. They knew he was divorced, living in a studio apartment in Manhattan, and that he had one brother older than he was, Dwayne Miller, who was the CEO of Competitive Response Solutions in DC.

  James read the information about Mark Miller and sat back. Competitive response; competitive intelligence gathering; competitive analysis; all catch phrases for industrial espionage. He called Irene and asked her and Carter to join him in his office.

  “Have a look at this; all the information about your lunch date’s client.” He chuckled and looked at Irene.

  “Jim, my children have a saying; ‘you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’,” Irene said pretending anger. “Doubling my age – you could have been a gentleman and added only 20 years or so but no, you had to rub it in and double it.”

  Carter put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from exploding into laughter.

  “Okay, I didn’t call you two in here to discuss Irene’s age,” James changed the topic. “Have a look at this guy’s brother, Dwayne Miller, CEO of Competitive Response Solutions in DC.”

  “What about him?” Carter asked.

  “CRS is in the industrial spy business; I know they have all these fancy names for them these days: competitive intelligence gathering, competitive analysis et cetera. Whatever you want to call it, it’s industrial espionage. Granted, some of it is above board and legal, but much of it is not.”

  Carter and Irene nodded in harmony. “You think this is another tree that needs shaking?” Irene asked.

  “Yes, definitely; I’d like to know the whole family,” James grinned. “No harm in too much information.”