Authors: Leslie Wolfe
After shaking Mason’s hand warmly, Sam Russell sat quietly for a few seconds, and Mason didn’t disrupt the silence either.
Sam absorbed the visual details in Mason’s office. The office had stayed the same, unchanged, over the entire time he’d been consulting for Mason. It had barren walls, no artwork, no plants, and no décor whatsoever. It was a practical, cold, impersonal, almost monastic space, furnished with efficiency in mind.
He looked at Mason and had to repress a smile. They must look really funny, the two of them. Both had shaved heads, wrinkled foreheads, and had preserved their athletic builds. Both were wounded warriors of a bygone era. Sam’s CIA days were just fond memories now, and so were Mason’s Secret Service days. Oh well. . . time does fly. Yet both of them still had a lot of fight in them, still had a lot to offer.
They went back a long way, the two of them. Sam always chuckled when he remembered how the two of them had met. Sam had been invited to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in reward for forging one of the most enduring alliances between the CIA and MOSSAD. The alliance between the two agencies, initially based on the friendship between two intelligence field agents, had evolved beyond Sam’s wildest dreams when his old MOSSAD friend took the reins of the Israeli government as prime minister. That course of events had brought him the invitation to attend the correspondents’ dinner.
Sam had never been a guest at the White House before and was a little uneasy about the whole thing, not really knowing anyone there, not sure where he could and couldn’t go. No wonder he took the wrong turn at some point and entered the wrong men’s room, one that was not open for guest access. Oblivious to his error, he had proceeded to the nearest urinal, pressed by an urgent need to relieve the pressure on his bladder.
In that very personal moment, he had felt a firm hand on his shoulder. A Secret Service agent escorted him out, barely giving him the time to zip his pants, and pointed him in the direction of the guest men’s room. That agent was Mason Armstrong, and, over the years, their unusual encounter led to a strong friendship. After Sam had retired from the CIA, Mason had extended him a consulting contract with Walcott, engaging him whenever the business needs required it.
Sam decided to open the conversation.
“This can’t be easy, Mason; how are you holding up?” Sam asked.
“I’m fine, it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s everything else. Our CEO and SecNav want this entire issue contained and the case closed ASAP.”
Mason stretched his left leg to the side of his desk.
“That’s tight,” Sam said. “In all the years we’ve been working together I haven’t seen such an ugly one. What does SecNav say?”
“He’s livid, and that was to be expected. He calls me three times a day, and I’m sure he’s calling the directors of the FBI and NCIS just as often. It’s our best weapons technology, so new we haven’t even deployed it on our fleet yet, and it could have been compromised already. He’s pressing us for a sitrep within forty-eight hours, and twenty-four are already gone.”
“What does the FBI say, or NCIS?” Sam asked quietly.
Mason rubbed his forehead for a few seconds before answering.
“You’re not gonna believe this, Sam. The federal agents deployed on this case were involved in a traffic collision with a tractor-trailer, and now they’re both in the hospital, fighting for their lives. They’re deploying someone else now.”
“Coincidence? Or not?” Sam probed.
“I think it’s too early to be anything else but a coincidence. But we’ve lost a day, nevertheless. And a day can make or break a case like this, you know that.”
Sam nodded, regretting he couldn’t light up in that office. Smoking cleared his mind, and somehow increased his perceptive skills. He’d just have to wait.
“Let’s go through the facts, Mason. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Mason picked up a document enclosed in a transparent envelope, and pushed it toward Sam.
“Our fleet guy found this when he detailed the corporate van.”
Sam whistled in amazement. “Unauthorized copy, huh?”
Mason nodded, while his eyebrows came together in a frown.
“You know,” Sam said, “there’s no logical reason to assume that this document was the entire breach. You know that, right?”
Mason nodded again.
“Most likely they copied the entire file, and only lost the first page, the cover page,” Sam continued.
“The entire file, or more files,” Mason added grimly.
“Yes, there could be more.”
Sam examined the document through the transparent envelope in detail.
“How or where the hell did they make the copy?”
“IT is looking into the usage logs for all the copiers in the building, and cross-referencing those logs with all authorized copies that were made in the past two weeks. We have an internal team on that. But it will take a while. We have seventy-eight copiers and forty-three fax machines, all digital and requiring access codes.”
“OK. Let’s change direction, then. Who used the van, do we know? Any video?”
“No, no video, but we do know who used the van between the previous detailing and the moment the document was found.”
“OK, let’s work that list,” Sam said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Go,” he invited Mason.
“There was one senior executive returning from a business trip, it was an airport pickup,” Mason said, looking at his notes.
“I think we could safely eliminate any inbound pickups, don’t you agree? Anyone stealing secrets from Walcott wouldn’t bring them inside the company once they were out, right?”
“Right . . . yes,” Mason confirmed. “It makes sense. Then that eliminates the delegation from South Korea, also an airport pickup.”
“Yes, scratch them off the list too. Who else?”
“I’m sure we can eliminate the CEO’s wife going on a shopping trip to France, don’t you agree?” Mason asked.
“Well, maybe not entirely.”
“The van picked her up at her house, not here. And she doesn’t have any access, obviously.”
“It was just a courtesy pickup and drop off? Then yes, she’s off the list too. I’m guessing you’re happy about that one, aren’t you?” Sam smiled.
Mason looked in Sam’s eyes and relaxed a little. “You have no idea,” he confirmed, a faint smile showing on his list for a split second.
“OK, then, who’s left?”
“Two engineering teams. They both left Walcott to go to two different engagements on a Navy vessel in Norfolk Harbor and their return trips. But that’s not all.”
“Oh?” Sam said.
“Both teams were deployed to work on the USS
Fletcher
. And the technology that was leaked is being installed on the
Fletcher
. That makes these people our most likely suspects.”
“I see. How big were the teams?”
“One was five people, one was six,” Mason said, after consulting his notes briefly.
“Any disgruntled employees on those teams, any motive, any issues we know about?”
“No, none whatsoever. That’s the first thing I checked.”
“All of them have clearance? What levels?”
“Yes, all were top secret clearance; very few Walcott employees are not cleared at that level.”
“Have you interviewed them?”
“Not yet. The feds made it very clear we’re not to engage the eleven employees in any way. They want to handle it themselves, have the first stab at it.”
Sam frowned a little, thinking. “Then why am I here, Mason? How can I help? You seem to have it all covered really well.”
“To some extent, Sam, to some extent. Yes, the feds are on it, and NCIS is partnering with them all the way, but they represent larger interests than Walcott Global. No one is looking after Walcott’s reputation during this investigation, and we need to have someone to represent and safeguard our interests. Not at the expense of, or against national security, of course, but just be there, keep us informed with potential pitfalls or media disasters.” He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts. “If we lose the Navy as a client, we are done, out of government business permanently. We can’t afford any screw-ups. You do understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Perfectly,” Sam confirmed, deep in thought.
That was one tall order. It wasn’t that obvious how to get someone to tag-team with not one, but two law enforcement agencies conducting a counterintelligence investigation, on what could easily prove to be the biggest espionage scandal in recent history.
“Wow,” Sam said quietly, “you do know how to make life interesting, Mason. This isn’t going to be easy, you know.”
“I know,” Mason replied, looking at Sam with a serious, intense gaze.
Sam thought for another minute or so, regretting he had earlier declined the invitation to get a cup of coffee.
“I might have a solution for you,” he said. “
Might
being the operative word here.”
“I’m all ears,” Mason replied calmly.
“There’s a private investigations firm called The Agency, have you ever heard of it?”
“No, never,” Mason replied.
“I didn’t think so. Their experts specialize in corporate covert investigations. They infiltrate organizations and conduct their analyses from within, discreetly, no one being the wiser. Then they report their findings to the company owners or leaders and disappear, just as naturally and inconspicuously as they had appeared. They might consider taking your case.”
“Interesting,” Mason said, a trace of optimism coloring his voice. “Are they government contractors? Will there be a conflict of interest?”
“No, they’re not,” Sam replied, unable to repress a chuckle. “The owner, Tom Isaac, would never even consider becoming a government contractor. He loves being a free, unregimented spirit.”
“Then they probably don’t hold the clearance to even hear my case,” Mason said, all optimism disappearing from his voice.
“One of them does, Alex Hoffmann is her name.”
“How come?”
“Well, not sure if I should share this with you, but here it is. She handled the NanoLance drone case.”
“By herself?” Mason reacted.
The NanoLance drone incident was a well-known subject in government circles, where just months before a congressional hearing had taken place to examine the facts leading to several incidents involving military drones. Some of those incidents had been responsible for a substantial loss of lives, both in the United States and abroad, in combat zones.
“Not entirely, but she was the lead in the investigation, the only Agency executive deployed inside NanoLance. She’s not your average investigator, you know. She’s a CalTech computer science major with an IQ that’s thirty points or so north of genius level. She took a director of technology job with NanoLance to get inside, and no one was the wiser. That’s how she does it.”
Mason whistled appreciatively and scratched the back of his head, thinking.
“Now that you mentioned it,” Sam continued, “there might be a second Agency employee with top-secret clearance. His name is Louie Blake; he’s a computer expert of sorts. He used to work for NanoLance, so he must have been cleared.”
Mason thought for a minute, then said, “I’m not sure what they could do for me, but if this is your best bet, Sam, why not? Let’s give it a shot and see how it goes. I’ll have to clear it with the boss, but I’m sure he’ll be OK with it. Go ahead, set it up.”
Sam looked at Mason for a second, to see if he was sure about that. Satisfied, he pulled out his cell phone and retrieved a number from memory.
A familiar voice picked up almost immediately, expressing loudly a string of complaints sprinkled with expletives.
“Yeah, kiddo, I know it’s 6.00AM in California, but how would you like to hop on a plane and come work on a case with me?”
He put the phone back in his pocket and smiled. “She’s on her way.”
Mason Armstrong’s office seemed small and crowded with so many visitors, yet they all crammed in there instead of moving to a conference room.
Jeremy Weber came in last, seven minutes tardy for the unexpected early morning meeting that had been announced late the night before. Surprised to see such a large audience, Jeremy closed the door behind him and studied everyone’s face, not recognizing anyone other than Mason.
He had to stand; Mason’s two other visitors had taken the only two visitor chairs available, while Mason took his own, behind his desk.
Jeremy shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and frowned. This investigation was turning into a corporate circus.
“Come on in, Agent Weber,” Mason greeted him. “Thank you for taking the time to come in this morning.”
He nodded a silent greeting to all those present.
“What is this about?” Jeremy asked, cutting to the chase.
“Agent Weber, please allow me to introduce Sam Russell.”
The two men shook hands.
“Sam is a security consultant with Walcott Global. He is former CIA, and he’s helping us handle this investigation on behalf of Walcott,” Mason continued. “Alex Hoffmann works with Sam. She will also be involved on behalf of Walcott Global.”
Jeremy shook Alex’s hand and was a little surprised to see the woman shook his hand firmly and openly, the type of handshake he’d expect from a man.
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“Agent Weber,” Mason said, “Walcott Global would really appreciate it if you’d partner up with our consultants during the investigation. They both bring a lot of value and can assist the FBI and NCIS teams. Considering the time pressures and the sensitivity surrounding this issue, Walcott believes that a joint task force should conduct the investigation. Our CEO is ready to make the necessary calls to your director, if need be.”
“Mr. Armstrong,” Jeremy replied, “are you suggesting we bring into our investigation civilian contractors? Uncleared civilians, no less?”
“They’re not just any civilians,” Mason said in an appeasing tone. “Sam Russell is ex-CIA, and Ms. Hoffmann holds a top-secret clearance and a portfolio of achievement in covert investigative work inside government contractor organizations. I hope you’ll reconsider.”
Jeremy struggled to contain his irritation. SAC Taylor was gonna have his ass on rye with mayo if he let this happen. There wasn’t an excuse in hell he could find to justify this. And why should he? There was no valid reason for that. He didn’t need to trail on some retiree and some chick during the entire time, just to make Walcott’s fat cat happy. They’re gonna call the director? So be it . . . at least this time he was gonna follow procedure.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, “This is simply not going to happen. We have procedures to follow, and this is a high-profile case, where we can’t risk making any mistakes. I hope you’ll understand,” he ended, as politely as he could, getting ready to leave.
“Again,” Mason insisted, “we are willing to make all necessary phone calls to get the approvals to make this happen. Just let us know who to call.”
“We have procedures for a reason,” Jeremy said, almost entertained to hear himself making the case for procedures, him of all people. He continued, “There’s simply no way this can happen. Plus, in all fairness, and pardon my blunt honesty, I don’t see the value in this partnership. It would slow us down and risk compromising the outcome of the investigation. If you feel the need to make those phone calls, please do. Have a good day.”
He turned away and grabbed the doorknob, getting ready to leave.
“She worked the NanoLance case,” Mason threw out. “Ms. Hoffmann did.”
Really?
Jeremy thought. That was maybe worth spending a few more minutes, but he still wasn’t gonna change his mind.
He let go of the doorknob and turned toward his host, registering the sudden blush in Hoffmann’s face and the frown on Sam Russell’s.
“All right,” Jeremy said, “how exactly do you see us partnering on this, Ms. Hoffmann?”
“It’s Alex,” she replied. “I can bring a different angle to the investigation; gather information without hard handing it, without any visible authority. Your kind of authority scares people into silence, Agent Weber. I bypass that.”
“Pfft . . .” he scoffed. “Ms. Hoffmann, do you even know what’s at stake here?” Jeremy asked, feeling a little embarrassed to hear how assaholic his voice sounded.
“No, can’t say that I know any of the details yet. I just arrived late last night.”
“Let me tell you exactly what this is about. We have developed a new weapon, the laser cannon. It’s the biggest breakthrough in weapons technology this country has seen in decades. It can be installed on any military vehicle, air, sea, or land, from destroyers to MRAPs to drones, since you’re so goddamn familiar with them. Why is it such a big breakthrough? Because that cannon can blow anything out of the water or out of the sky with precision and for under a buck a shot! Yes, you heard me,” he emphasized, registering her reaction, “less than one dollar per shot. And someone just stole that technology and gave it, or is planning to give it to our enemies. Now, can you please explain to me exactly how you think you can bring value to our investigation?”
She didn’t seem intimidated; she looked annoyed. She cocked her head defiantly, and her lips curled up just a little, in the most irritating hint of a smile he’d ever seen. When she spoke, her voice was calm and cold, factual.
“Well, maybe you’re right and I can’t assist in this case. But don’t get me wrong. That’s only because you’re one of the most stubborn, head-up-your-ass, sorry excuses for an agent I’ve ever met. I can’t work with someone who’s so closed-minded. We wouldn’t be able to communicate; we don’t coexist on the same planet.”
She stood abruptly and walked toward Sam, and quickly leaned down and kissed him on the top of his clean-shaven, shiny head.
“Sorry, Sam,” she whispered, then turned around and left, closing the door gently behind her.
Jeremy stood speechless, watching her leave without being able to articulate an answer. He saw Mason covering his face with both his palms.
“You idiot!” Sam said. “You just blew your only chance to infiltrate that group of people. If the feds want to go undercover on this, it will take you weeks to prep.”
Jeremy looked at Sam. “Are you kidding me? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“I wish I was,” Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief. “If you’re thinking of investigating this with guns blazing, locking each one of your eleven suspects in a room with a polygraph and hoping you’ll find who-done-it, well, think again.”
“Why?” Jeremy asked and instantly regretted it.
“Because the moment the word gets out there that we’re looking at this, whoever’s done it will run for the hills, expedite whatever delivery he had planned, and take as much intel with him as he can carry. Your only shot is to somehow start the interrogations and polygraphs with the traitor first, before anyone else. You keep forgetting you
must
contain the information leak
and
identify the uplink—find the handler, not just catch the traitor. And you’re running against the clock, you need to infiltrate that group today. How do you like your odds now?”
Jeremy didn’t reply; he processed Sam’s point of view, trying to poke holes in it and couldn’t find any.
Motherfucker,
he thought.
Who the hell are these people?