Authors: Alan Jacobson
“If he hasn’t already.”
DeSantos closed his eyes. “We’ve irreparably altered British politics. And the very man we were relying on to watch our backs and feed us intel on how to stop the ricin attacks has set us up.”
Think of something, Karen. Think! There’s gotta be a way to fix all this.
“The lights,” DeSantos said.
“What lights?”
“Everything was off in the house, the power. Someone cut it. Walpole probably looked out his window and saw that his neighbor had electricity on, so he grabbed a flashlight and went down to the circuit breaker to see what the hell was wrong.
“But I walked in and scared the crap out of him.” He slammed the steering wheel again, then took a deep breath. His demeanor changed; his brow hardened and his eyes narrowed. “Okay. We can’t worry about Basil Walpole. So—”
“What are you talking about? We just killed an innocent man. We murdered him. How can we just push that aside?”
“For now. We compartmentalize it, lock it away, because we can’t fix it and we’ve got a job to do.”
Vail turned away.
“What would you have us do, walk into the nearest Met station and confess? Sorry guys, it was all just a misunderstanding. Now we’ll be on our way to head off a ricin attack that you know nothing about.”
“Of course not. But how can you just forget that we killed that man. He’s got two kids—”
“I know, okay? We fucked up.” He sat there a long moment. Finally he said, “Right now, Karen, we have to shove our feelings in a drawer so we can complete this mission.”
Vail sat up straight. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m tired, I’m—I’m being emotional.”
Did I just admit that?
DeSantos pulled away from the curb.
“We need to radically alter our appearance. Caps and glasses won’t cut it.”
DeSantos checked his mirrors to make sure they were not being followed. “How do you figure?”
“Whoever set us up is going to leak to the press and the police, or both, that we kil—that we were seen leaving the scene. This wasn’t some last minute frame-up. It was well planned, well timed, and well executed.”
DeSantos nodded. “You’re right. Fine. We’ll find a place to crash for the night. We’ll need to get new SIM cards because the ones that Buck gave us are likely in their system by now and they may’ve voice ID’d us to those cards.”
“And that brings us back to figuring out what the hell’s going on. The most logical person behind this is not the Russians, or the BHP, or other radical far right groups. It’s Rudenko. He’d be hit hard if money laundering rules were changed and he suddenly couldn’t move his funds around—or hide them.”
“Agreed. So, what? Buck’s been working with Rudenko all along? Is he the mole who exposed all the security service agents? Why?”
Vail considered the question a moment. “Because if he takes out his entire domestic and international spy network, or disables it for a bit, then Rudenko is free to operate as he sees fit, giving him enough time to launch his attack.”
“But why bring you and me here?”
“To make a good show, to stall. I’m sure he got pressure from the prime minister to take action, to track down Rudenko and find this ricin shipment that landed on their soil. And he probably didn’t see you as a threat. He was definitely surprised when you keyed in on Paxton.”
“There’s only one person involved in this thing that we can find, right?”
“Yeah,” Vail said. “Buck.” She turned to DeSantos. “No.”
“It’s the fastest way to answers.”
Vail shifted in her seat. “That’s a mistake.”
“Kidnapping the director general of MI5 isn’t a whole lot worse than anything else we’ve done the past few days.”
“Don’t remind me.” Vail rubbed both hands over her cheeks. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
DeSantos pulled the car over again. “I am.” He assembled his phone, powered it up, and typed out a text. When it had sent, he removed the battery again.
“What was that?”
“I just sent Knox a coded message.”
“What kind of coded message?”
“An electronic SOS.”
43
D
ouglas Knox, seated with Earl Tasset and Senator Tom Hendricks as they polished off their after-dinner drinks, stole a look at his BlackBerry. The screen had lit up and the handset was vibrating on the table in front of him.
He puffed on his Hoyo de Monterrey Double Corona, which was perched between his teeth, and tilted his head back to read the message.
“Shit.” He removed the cigar and set it on the edge of the crystal ashtray.
“Everything okay?” Hendricks asked.
“The usual. I’ll be right back.”
Knox donned his wool overcoat and walked outside. He dialed a number and waited while it rang.
“Agent Uziel, this is Douglas Knox.”
“Good evening, Mr. Director.”
“We have to meet. Fifteen minutes, at the Pennsylvania pillar of the World War II memorial.”
“I’ll be there.”
UZI, LEANING AGAINST the stone wall, looked out at the brightly lit Washington Monument. The wind was chilled and strong, and the vapor escaping from his mouth obscured his view.
Douglas Knox cleared his throat and Uzi pivoted around.
“Mr. Director.”
Knox gave a quick survey of the area—which immediately set Uzi’s senses on edge—and he, too, started taking note of who and what was nearby.
“I received a message from Hector.”
He swallowed hard, expecting the worst. “What did it say?”
“It was in code, but the gist is that he’s in trouble and needs help. If I interpreted his code properly, he wants you and Troy Rodman to get to London ASAP. Do you have a go-bag in your trunk?”
“Always, sir.”
“Go directly to Dulles and grab the United flight at ten. I’ll have whatever equipment you need from your office or house brought to you. Rodman will meet you there and bring your kit and boarding pass.”
“Have you gotten a SitRep from him?” Uzi asked, referring to a situation report.
“He’s dark—and black. So we’re not having this conversation. And no, I don’t know what the problem is. I’ve told Rodman to prepare for a real shit storm. I suggest you do the same.”
44
V
ail and DeSantos switched license plates with another vehicle, and then drove around for an hour until they located the same make and model sedan as the one they were driving. They then repeated the process, several miles away.
Finally, around 2:00
AM
, they pulled into a dark, secluded neighborhood and spent the night in the car; it was safer than attempting to find a hotel and taking the risk of being identified. Until they devised better disguises, each minute they were out in public, the greater the chance they would be recognized.
They awoke at dawn and moved the vehicle to another suburban area, where Vail found a drugstore. The plan was for her to buy various accoutrements, including hair coloring, disposable razors, hats, and Adonis Bronzing Spray. DeSantos, meanwhile, went in search of a mobile accessories store to purchase SIMs or throwaway phones.
They had to conserve their cash because using a credit card was out of the question: their electronic footprint would be located in seconds.
Once back in the car, DeSantos put the battery into his Nokia and powered it up with a new SIM and swept the vehicle for electronic tracking devices using an app that Uzi had preloaded on his phone. He had wanted to do it last night but could not risk using the phone more than he already had. It would have acted like a beacon straight to their position. He decided to take the risk that the vehicle was clean, and his sweep now indicated that was the case.
Hoping that Knox had understood his message, DeSantos texted Uzi and told him this was now his number for the near term, and to contact him when possible.
He walked back to the car, waiting for Vail to return…and for his phone to vibrate.
WHEN VAIL KNOCKED on the car window, DeSantos hardly recognized her. She had cut her hair short and colored it.
“Not bad as a brunet,” he said. “I’d definitely be checking you out if you walked by my park bench.”
She pulled down the visor and examined her handiwork in the mirror. “I haven’t had short hair in twenty years. My mom had a brilliant idea that it’d be cute. I hated it.” She thought about her mother, now in a home with Alzheimer’s. Realizing DeSantos was staring at her, she pulled her thoughts back to the present. “What?”
“You look so different.”
“Good. Now you.” She handed DeSantos the bag containing the scissors, razors, and spray-on tan.
“You know this is only a partial fix,” he said.
“Why is that?”
“We’ve got two problems: physical visual identification and CCTV identification.”
“Do their cameras use facial recognition?”
“Some are outfitted with it, some aren’t. And it depends whether we’re talking about government cameras or private security. Bottom line, it’s best to stay off them or give them a bad look at us. We’re at risk, there’s no way around it. A hat, a pair of eyeglasses, a different hairstyle—all that stuff will prevent a cop from picking us off the street from a photo array he saw in roll call. And it’ll help prevent a guy from watching a screen at the Met’s Communications Division from recognizing us. But it’s not going to help us much with cameras that have facial recognition.”
“They compensate for different hair styles?”
“The technology is always improving, and I don’t know where the UK falls on that spectrum.”
“Then we’ll have to settle for defeating two of the three systems.”
“Except that there are a ton of cameras in the UK—anywhere from several hundred thousand to four million, last I heard. The average person is photographed dozens of times every day.”
“Thanks for making me feel better.”
“Just pointing out what we’re up against.”
“We can only do what we can do. And right now, that means you taking the stuff in that bag and going at it. But I am sorry.”
“About what?”
She reached over and ran her fingers through his thick hair. “I look kind of cute this way. I’m not so sure you’re going to get the same result when you shave your head.”
He frowned and grabbed the bag. “We’ll see. I’ve always wanted to try the badass look.”
“Don’t you mean
bare
ass?”
He slammed the door, leaving without a word.
45
T
he Nokia buzzed at 9:49 AM. DeSantos snatched it up and, reading the display, said, “Uzi just landed.”
He handed the phone to Vail. “Tell him we need a live drop, and warn him.”
She typed:
have something for you. we’re very hot but need an LD.
“Any ideas where? Does Uzi know England?”
“Pretty well,” DeSantos said. “As to where, we need to head toward London and keep off the cameras.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s gonna happen; nothing we can do about it. But the longer we can put it off, the better.”
“Then where? Where can we go to get away from the cameras? They’re everywhere.”
DeSantos thought a moment. “Cranford Park. It’s near Heathrow, right off the M4. Tell him to take the road across the river and meet us in the parking lot. Our hood will be up.”
Vail sent off the message. “Anything else?”
“Tell him to check things out before he approaches. And ask him if he remembers our buddy Tad Bishop.”
Vail stopped typing. “Bishop. The informant you were working with who was ultra-paranoid?”
“
Uzi
was working with him, not me. But yeah, that’s the one. He also happened to be bald.”
“Got it.” She typed out the second message.
careful. survey b4 approach. oh I look like tad bishop now ;-)
Seconds later, Uzi texted back:
copy. c u soon
DeSantos took the phone back and did a double take. “You’re staring at me.”
“I like it more than I thought I would. You used the bronzing spray.”
“Of course. My scalp hasn’t seen sunlight since I was a baby.”
“And your scalp still hasn’t seen sunlight. You’re in England, remember?”
THEY ARRIVED AT Cranford Park and pulled into the parking lot, which was already occupied by half a dozen vehicles. DeSantos pointed the car’s nose in, against a stand of trees that formed the western side of the park.
DeSantos had dropped Vail off along the road, about fifty yards away. She gave a look around to make sure no one was following them, and that it was safe for the meet to take place. She saw nothing untoward—and equally important, no CCTV cameras.
As Vail approached, DeSantos got out and opened the hood. Although they felt reasonably sure that they were not being watched, DeSantos made an effort to look like he was working on the engine.
A few moments later, a panel van containing two men pulled into the lot.
The large black dude—Rodman—remained in the passenger seat. The large white dude—Uzi—got out and made his way over to the “disabled” vehicle.
“Boychick,” DeSantos said, using his nickname for Uzi. “Good to see you.”
“Same here. Need a hand?”
“You have no idea,” Vail said.
DeSantos removed the CLAIR from his pocket and placed it atop the battery. “That’s yours. It’s a comms device given to us by Aden Buck.”
“Buck. Really?”
“It’s set up to transmit a secure message only between this and another identical handset. It’s a high—”
“High bandwidth low power reprogrammable SDR with a full-duplex RF transceiver. Microburst architecture.”
“You know,” Vail said, “I love it when you talk techy.”
Uzi winked. “Now—to your problem.” He reached into the engine compartment, palmed the CLAIR, and slipped it partially up his sleeve. “I’ll get to work on it. I brought my ‘mobile lab’ with me, so that should give me everything I need. I don’t know how long it’ll take. It depends on how strong the MI5 firewalls are. I’m assuming they’re pretty damn good.”
“No match for your skills.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“Once you turn it on, work fast. The thing self-erases.”
“Nothing like a good challenge.” Uzi stuck a hand into a pocket of his 5.11 tactical pants and pulled something out. He reached forward and touched the engine. “Here’s the problem. Clogged air filter.” He tapped twice on the metal housing. “Much better. That should do it.” When he removed his hand, an iPhone was nestled on the crank case. “Latest model, specially outfitted. It should allow us to communicate securely.”
“Should?” Vail asked.
“Hey, I’m good but I’m not perfect.”
“I’m going to use that against you someday.”
“I’ll deny I ever said it.”
“I have a witness.” Vail tilted her head left, indicating DeSantos.
DeSantos squinted. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Before I forget,” Uzi said. “That document we found on Rudenko’s PC, the mustard agent attack on Yankee Stadium. Looks like it wasn’t an actual plan. They were just brainstorming on how it could be carried out and where to get the mustard agent. NSA’s still working on decrypting the other docs, but so far, it looks like the ricin’s the only clear and present danger.” He bent slightly at the knees. “I’m dropping a gift bag by your feet, Santa. Pick it up before you head out.”
DeSantos did not look down. “Got it.”
Uzi turned to him and gave his face a once-over. “You are gonna grow back your hair, right?”
“You don’t like the badass look?”
“I do. But yours looks more
bare
ass than badass.”
Vail slapped the fender. “That’s exactly what I said!”
Uzi suppressed a smile. “Good luck. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve got something.” After he’d walked a couple dozen feet, he turned around and pointed at the vehicle. “Go ahead and give it a try. I think it’ll start now. I’m really good with car engines, too.”