Evil Riches Page 2

  “I think the graphic arts team did a great job throwing it together,” Jake said.

  “I didn’t know I had a book,” was Zach’s surprised reply.

  “Well, you do now. When and if we need to create a cover story for your travels, a tour to promote your book should work.”

  “That sounds great. I thought my climb of Mount Roraima was an unwanted distraction from our mission,” with a chuckle Zach added, “and a book-signing would be much easier.”

  “More importantly, it means you can go places where there are no ‘adventure’ sites, but enough of that, let’s get down to why I called you here.”

  “Before we begin, I have to ask, why my team? There are several teams with more experience to handle this kind of threat.”

  “While experience has its virtues, a team can miss things because they think they know the answers. The fact you’re a newer team means you’re less likely to overlook things. This assignment needs a fresh set of eyes.”

  “Makes sense. I guess,” Zach said, still not convinced.

  “While all the data suggests a coordinated plan to attack multiple locations, something about the chatter bothers me, Zach.”

  “I’m not following you. From what little I read it sounds like a bunch of extremists plan on killing Americans.”

  “The communications don’t follow the known signature’s of any terrorist organization we monitor. Let me show you what I mean.”

  Jake motioned for Zach to sit down across from him. On his desk were a pile of papers with yellow highlights running through parts of the text. He slid the papers in front of Zach. “There are keywords or phrases that come up in chatter that helps us identify a group. Check out the highlighted text. Those are what we call identifiers.”

  After studying the papers he pulled the reports from his briefcase and gave them a cursory scan. He set the papers on the desk and gave Jake a puzzled look, inviting a clarification.

  “You see. This time there’s nothing matching any organization we recognize,” Jake said.

  With concern in his voice, Zach replied, “So what you’re saying, is a new terrorist group is emerging?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Besides the communications not having the earmarks of a known terrorist group, some appear to originate in the United States.”

  “Has Bigfoot been able to track down the locations or sources?”

  Bigfoot was the name given to the research team at FAPS. The nickname came about because they rarely saw the team, always having their heads buried in a computer monitor.

  “No. The threat’s communication channels are highly sophisticated and they’re doing a damn good job of masking locations.”

  “Not to belittle Bigfoot, but maybe Chris and Ray can help identify the origins.”

  “That’s another reason I want your team on this. I’m hoping Chris’s hacking notoriety and Ray’s network skills will come in handy. But right now I’m not sure, like I said, these guys are on a par with us in hiding their tracks.”

  “I’ve seen firsthand what those two can do, if anyone can identify who’s behind this it would be them.”

  Zach and Jake went about reviewing all the reports that detailed the increase in thefts and black market sales of radioactive materials. Of the various radioactive elements stolen, the three that caused them the most concern were; cesium-137, cobalt-60, and strontium-90. Either individually or in combination, an area contaminated by a dirty bomb that contained a significant quantity of those materials would require years to clean-up.

  The intercepted chatter talked about a systematic attack on American interests. What the reports lacked were specific targets and timelines. Before calling in Zach, Jake had already informed the agency’s worldwide network of field agents to put out feelers and now faced a waiting game.

  “Until we hear from our field agents, I want your team to focus on the communications originating inside the United States. I want to know if it’s Americans or foreign nationals inserted in our country. I also want to know their role in the overall plan.”

  “I’ll get Chris and Ray on this right away, I won’t need the rest of the team for now. Not sure where to start, but we’ll do what we can.”

  Jake could sense Zach was not fine, despite his earlier claim, and said, “Zach. Zach. Zach. I tell you what. Since you need to get settled in at the hotel, why don’t I come with you, we can grab a beer and talk.”

  Shortly thereafter, the two men exited the town-car in front of the agency’s private hotel.

  The building was an old converted colonial house that had eight luxurious rooms, a bar, and an exercise gym. With no name on the outside of the building, the average person wouldn’t go inside in search of a guest room. The house was a company retreat intended only for guests associated with FAPS.

  The same burly man from a year ago greeted them. Zach’s first thoughts were the same, this desk clerk belongs in a dive motel in a seedy part of town.

  He turned to Jake and said, “I’ll go put my bag in the room, call the guys, and meet up with you in ten minutes.”

  “Take your time, I’ll grab us a couple of beers.”

  In his room, Zach adjusted the mattress’s firmness, not wanting a repeat of the last time he was here.

  When he called Chris and Ray, Chris saw it was Zach and answered the phone, “Computer wizards extraordinaire.”

  “So, that’s what you two call yourselves?”

  “No, but thought you would get a kick out of the name, let me put you on speaker so Ray can hear.”

  “Hi, Ray. Are you keeping Chris out of trouble?”

  “Trying to. Occasionally I have to remind Chris that what he wants to do is illegal.”

  "I’m counting on you to keep Chris honest. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is we have a new mission, and it’s right up your alley."

  Chris asked, “What is it?”

  “I’ll fill you in tomorrow when you get here. One of our planes will be in Memphis tomorrow afternoon to pick you up.”

  Downstairs, he joined Jake sitting at a small table off to the side of the bar. Jake noticed Zach’s footsteps weren’t as heavy as he approached the table, but knew his mental frame of mind hadn’t magically fixed itself.

  “You’re looking a little more upbeat,” Jake said.

  “I guess talking to Chris and Ray emphasized the mission’s importance and helped put everything else in perspective.”

  “So tell me, is it the mission or is there something else troubling you?”

  “It’s not the mission, but I don’t understand why the FBI or CIA aren’t in charge.”

  “Simple. The president doesn’t want the public to get wind of someone playing with dirty bombs.”

  “The CIA is pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  “Pretty good, isn’t good enough for this one. You know this town. It’s full of loose lip blabber mouths.”

  “I have to admit more stuff seems to get leaked to the press.”

  “Can you imagine what would happen if some junior congressman hears something off the record and wants to make a name for himself? Bam, instant front-page headlines.”

  “Widespread panic, that’s what would happen.”

  “That’s why the president wants us to handle it. Make sense now?”

  “Yes. Once Chris and Ray get here, I’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  While Zach’s mood seemed improved, Jake could tell there was still something troubling him. “Call on any resources from across the agency you need, but enough dancing around the elephant in the room. What the hell is bothering you?”

  “Okay. If you must know, I guess I didn’t realize how much I would miss not being in charge of my schedule. I didn’t even have enough time to enjoy my cabin retreat before you called.”

  As if stabbed in the heart by his closest friend, support and empathy vanished. Jake was livid. Here was a man recruited for his ability to focus on the task, pouting about personal
time. In a tone Zach had never heard from him, Jake shouted, “If you can’t handle it, then maybe you aren’t the person I thought you were. Either resign or get with the program.” In a calm voice he added, “I know that’s harsh but you need to snap out of this funk.”

  “No. I don’t want to quit. I shouldn’t have said anything. My team can do this and don’t worry about me. From here on out I’m one hundred percent engaged.”

  “I hope so. Now back to why we’re here. For the record, I’m less concerned with the bombs than I am the people behind this.”

  “That sounds rather callous.”

  “No. Not callous, realistic. It’s not like we’re talking about a nuclear bomb going off. The amount of explosives used will determine the extent of physical damage. The main purpose of a dirty bomb is to scare people, not kill them.”

  “I understand that, but there still could be casualties if we don’t stop them before they detonate any bombs.”

  “Possibly. However, from their communications we know they’re sophisticated. So the question is; what’s their motive behind waging psychological warfare that will disrupt access to targeted locations?”

  “I see what you’re saying. Unlike a typical terrorist group, their plan must be more involved than simply setting off a bunch of bombs.”

  “And your job is to discover what that is.”

  “Got it. If you will excuse me, I want to review the reports again.”

  “I’m counting on you, Zach.”

  Chapter 3

  Virginia

  Back in his room Zach chastised himself for being so petty. Here he was, tasked with saving America from some crazed group yet concerns about his free time dominated his thoughts. He felt Jake had good reason to express a level of anger not shown before. After all, if he failed, would he still own a cabin retreat that selfishly robbed his focus? Without knowing the enemy’s true intent, it was a question he couldn’t answer. Whatever future events might arise, he resolved to never again let personal injustice interfere with his assignments.

  Zach studied the reports throughout the night and into the next day. He grew frustrated as he paced back and forth searching for any clue that would elicit an ‘aha’ moment. Nothing. What was he hoping to find? Where were the words that screamed ‘pay attention to this part’? Looking at the clock, the best he could hope for was something would ‘scream’ at Chris or Ray when they read the reports.

  With their arrival imminent, Zach headed to headquarters to set up a workspace in one of the massive conference rooms. He also created a plan to optimize their time. The agency’s cafeteria had some of the best food in town. Rather than waste time finding restaurants in the area, they would rely on the food there.

  When the two men arrived at Reagan National, the driver took them straight to the hotel. En route the three men joked and carried on like they were long-lost friends. The driver knew the two passengers were associates of Zach’s and offered them a friendly warning, “The guy you’re here to work with was a real son-of-a-bitch yesterday. I hope you have your Kevlar armor on.”

  This wasn’t the team leader the men had grown close to and exchanged a quizzical expression. They both knew they would find out shortly what happened between Zach and the driver and chose not to say a word. The driver gave them fifteen minutes to get settled in their rooms before taking them to headquarters.

  When they entered the building the receptionist waved and shouted across the open space, “Conference room two.”

  On the ride to headquarters, the two agreed not to mention the driver’s comment unless there was a reason to bring it up. Entering the conference room, Chris said, “Hi Zach, let’s hear about the mission.”

  Zach handed copies of the reports to Chris and Ray, “See if anything jumps out at you.”

  Besides the lack of a welcoming salutation, neither man noticed any difference in Zach. They dismissed the drivers impression as a simple misunderstanding. Ray asked, “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Anything that might shed some light on; who, where, and when they plan on using the bombs they are talking about.”

  Zach sat and watched the clock, the room’s silence mimicked an empty library. Despite being a digital clock, he swore he heard the seconds tick by. After almost thirty minutes and a hushed conversation between Chris and Ray, they set the reports down. Chris said, “Okay, besides knowing they are gathering radioactive material the reports don’t tell us much. We need to see the raw data and examine the metadata and packet headers.”

  “Don’t you think Bigfoot would have already done that?” Zach asked.

  “I’m sure they did, but I doubt they could hack into every router and computer that the raw data identifies. Give me enough time, and I should be able to give you the name of the sender’s grandma and what she had for breakfast.”

  “Not sure what good that will do, Chris, but knowing the identities of the senders will be great,” Zach said, chuckling. Then asked, “How long will it take?”

  “Hours, days, weeks, months, hard to say. It depends on the security protocols used and the number of proxy sites.” Chris replied.

  “I’ll build a network map to help you visualize how the data is moving around the world,” Ray said.

  “What can I do to help?” Zach asked.

  “You know how you can help, leave us alone to work on this... On second thought, something to eat would be nice. See if the cafeteria knows how to make normal food, not all that foo-foo crap you like. A couple of pizzas and a gallon of Mountain Dew sounds like great research food,” Chris said.

  Ray added, “Oh, and speaking of foo-foo no duck breast with a port infused raspberry glaze for a pizza topping. Good old-fashioned double cheese and pepperoni will do just fine.”

  “I can do that.” Zach said, and left.

  Ironically, while not with a raspberry glaze, the cafeteria had a seared duck breast on the menu and Chris’s comment planted the seed, Zach ordered the duck breast.

  The waiter interrupted his dinner when he showed up with two six-packs of Mountain Dew and two large boxes. He opened one to show what the kitchen had prepared. Inside was a rectangular pizza with pepperoni arranged to replicate lanes from an old Pac-Man screen. To complete the picture, a larger piece of Canadian Bacon with a triangle cut out had four pieces trimmed in a rectangular shape directly behind it. Immediately one could visualize Pac-Man being chased by the team of ghosts. Zach snickered at the creation.

  The waiter said, “When I told the kitchen staff your men don’t like foo-foo, this was their response.”

  “Tell the kitchen, great job, and I’m sure the guys will love it.”

  When Chris and Ray opened the pizza box, they grabbed slices and imitated the whoop-whoop sounds of the game as they chomped down in exaggerated bites. Zach was glad to see their lighthearted approach to the situation. “I know it hasn’t been long but have you come up with anything?”

  “Well, whoop-whoop,” as Chris munched on his pizza, “nothing that Bigfoot didn’t already know, whoop-whoop.”

  “Cut out the whoop-whoop crap and tell me what you know.”

  “Fine. We can narrow down the source of transmissions to certain areas, but that’s it for now. Best we can tell, they send everything through repeaters as broadcast packets, which means there are no targeted destinations for a message.”

  Ray jumped in, “Here, let me show you.” He tapped a key on the keyboard and the wall-mounted monitor came to life. An image of the world appeared. There were multiple circles with slim short lines protruding in all directions ending in question marks. Fatter lines connected all the circles.

  Zach said, “Reminds me of the diagrams of our communications network we saw at training.”

  Ray said, “Sort of, the circles are either where messages originate or are repeaters re-transmitting what they receive.”

  Puzzled, Zach asked, “What are all the little lines with question marks at the end?”

 
“I did that to illustrate a point. Whoever is receiving the messages could be anyone. They’re not making this easy. We haven’t had time to analyze every transmission. By tomorrow there will be fewer question marks and more circles,” Ray said.

  Chris recognized the blank look on Zach’s face and tried to explain. “Let’s say you are making a phone call, your number is the source, and the phone number you are calling is the destination. Since we know both numbers location, the answer is right in front of us. Okay?”

  “With you so far,” Zach said, unsure of the connection.

  “Now let’s say you call a different number, give that person a message and they call the destination phone number and relay the message. They are ‘repeating’ your message, and it no longer looks like it came from you, make sense?”

  Zach nodded.

  “Now let’s say it gets repeated a hundred times before reaching the destination. Your location becomes increasingly obscure, but still straightforward to track down,” Chris paused and took a big gulp of soda, “here’s where it gets complicated. What if after dialing just the area code or area code and prefix every phone associated with that set of numbers rang and everyone answered their phones?”

  “That would be a ton of people answering their phone’s,” Zach said.

  “About ten thousand if the number included the prefix, with just an area code it would be eight million. You have all these people answering their phone’s, and all they hear is gibberish, so they hang up. However, someone out there doesn’t hear it as gibberish, and they listen to the message. That person is the intended destination.”

  “Okay, can’t we narrow down who the destination is when they acknowledge receiving the message?” Zach asked.

  “You would think, but there’s never an immediate response.”

  “So how does the sender know the right person got their message?”

  “They don’t, well at least not right away. This is a patient bunch. So far we have found no direct links between different messages. My guess is, at some point what appears as an unrelated transmission confirms the original message’s receipt.”