The Forgotten Soldier: A Pike Logan Thriller (37 page)

74

K
halid flipped through the Afghan passport, seeing nothing but the new visa for Norway. He said, “Sabour Jarden. A Pashtun name. What city?”

Sipping tea and eating a fig, Sabour said, “I’m from Palmyra, Syria.”

“But we were given this name for the passport. Specifically given
this
name. Why?”

Sabour smiled and said, “I don’t know. I guess because we were going to Afghanistan. My first name is Sabour, but Jarden is made up. A tribal name.”

Khalid laughed and said, “How on earth were you supposed to infiltrate anything in Afghanistan?”

Sabour set his tea down, a movement made delicate by his long fingers. Khalid thought everything he did was delicate, like a bird. He was slight, with a sad smile perpetually on his face, and so far had not questioned a single thing, as if he had completely given his fate over to others. A fact that intrigued Khalid.

Sabour said, “I was the only one in our camp that had ever been to Afghanistan. I spent a year in Gardez.”

“And now you’re with us in Oslo instead. Do you have any doubts?”

The sad smile slipped out again. “No. Allah has chosen me for a great mission. I go where he tells me to go.”

Khalid laughed again and said, “You believe Allah is speaking through Haider and his father?”

“Yes. Do you not?”

When Khalid didn’t answer, Sabour said, “Why are you here, if not for the caliphate?”

The question was confusing, precisely because Khalid had never really given it any thought. In the end, simple anger drove him forward. He was not seeking anything more than to prove his own self-worth. He wanted to be like Sharif, a self-made man, and so he continued leveraging Haider for a lost cause of tribal affiliation. He was Muslim, of course, but other than its providing an outlet for his hatred of the West, he’d never really given Islam or the caliphate much reflection.

Khalid said, “I do what I do for my own reasons. I’m curious about you, though. You know what you’re here for, right?”

He didn’t say it out loud, as if the fact that Sabour’s success involved giving his life was somehow not to be verbalized.

“Yes. Of course.”

“And you have no qualms? No fear?”

The smile appeared and left, like a shadow. “Of course not. All I am doing is moving on to something greater. I’m leaving this mortal land for paradise. Most must endure a lifetime before entry, but I will be granted access by virtue of my sacrifice.”

Khalid nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t. Haider’s phone rang, and Khalid picked it up, seeing the country code for Qatar. He knew who it was, and expected the usual excoriation from Sharif. He was pleasantly surprised.

“Where is my son?”

“Sir, he’s with the secretary of state. They’re talking about the peace meetings.”

“Good, good. You are the one I wanted to talk with anyway. You had no trouble getting into Oslo with the
shahid
?”

The statement confused Khalid, but he didn’t let it show in his
voice. “No. Secretary Billings took care of his entry, just as you said would happen.”

“And Haider knows the meeting location?”

“Not yet. He’s finding out now . . . sir, what did you mean, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Write this down.” Khalid grabbed a pen, and Sharif relayed an address in the Gronland section of Oslo. He had Khalid repeat it, then said, “That is an automobile shop in the city near the Islamic Cultural Center. The men there will give you the keys to a Range Rover. You will bring it back to the
shahid
.”

“Yes, sir. Do I pay them?”

“No. They have been well compensated. But you will go alone.”

Khalid’s instincts kicked in at the words. Sharif had shown him only scorn in the past, so if he wanted Khalid to go alone, there was a reason, and it probably involved protecting his son. He said, “I’ll need the
shahid
to learn. I’ll take him with me.”

“You can teach him when you get back. You go alone. There will be a man named Abdul-Haq, and he’ll also provide you weapons for emergencies. I want you to use them on him.”

Khalid said nothing. Sharif said, “Khalid, can you do this?”

“Why?”

“He is a link. A weakness. I want him removed to protect the mission.”

Khalid didn’t respond. Sharif continued, “Khalid, you have shown a willingness to do what’s necessary, and an intelligence to get it done. You killed in Afghanistan, correct? That’s what Haider tells me.”

“Yes. I did.”

“The Americans? You killed the one they captured?”

“Yes.”

“And you survived the attack in Greece without panicking. Haider said the
shahid
was a bundle of nerves afterward, but you were in control. Is this true?”

“I guess . . .”

“Khalid, Haider does not have it in him. If I send him, he will fail. You do this, and you will become my second son.”

Khalid could not believe the words. The promise it held. He said, “Are you toying with me?”

“No. I mean what I say.”

“Okay, sir. It will be done.”

Sharif disconnected and Khalid set the phone on the table, lost in thought. The door to the room opened, and Haider entered.

The first words out of his mouth were, “Sabour, never, ever speak to the secretary again. He’s starting to question.”

Sabour nodded and Khalid said, “From the plane?”

“Yes. From the plane flight.”

After takeoff, the first thing Secretary Billings had done was question the attack at Delphi, playacting as if he had no idea why it had occurred and ensuring they knew that the United States had protected them by eliminating their connection to the Audi. No mention was made of the man who’d died, Secretary Billings acting as if he were the innocent bystander proclaimed by the press.

Khalid had thought it was ludicrous, as both of them knew it was the work of the United States, but for whatever reason, Secretary Billings preferred to pretend. As long as he kept facilitating their mission, Khalid would let it go. Especially since the man who’d been hunting them was now dead.

Eventually, the talk turned to the meetings, and Secretary Billings had given Sabour a greeting in Pashto. When Sabour had simply looked at him, Billings had asked where he was from, in English. Haider had translated into Arabic, and, puzzled, Billings had asked why he was using that language instead of Pashto. Thinking fast, Haider had said he didn’t speak Pashto, and Sabour didn’t speak English, so they would use Arabic to talk. Billings had taken that in, and
then asked questions about the Taliban sects and the fractures after the death of Mullah Omar.

Haider had pretended to hold a conversation with Sabour, then gave out general platitudes. Not satisfied with the answers, Billings had probed deeper. Eventually, when the answers remained shallow, Billings had quit asking, looking as if he were doubting Sabour’s expertise. Khalid had redirected the conversation to the attack at Delphi, and Secretary Billings became recalcitrant, no longer eager to talk. They flew the rest of the way in silence.

Khalid said, “Is it going to be an issue?”

Haider waived his hand and took a seat, looking out at the Oslo cityscape. “No. He just thinks I’m stupid for bringing Sabour. He doesn’t suspect us of anything.”

“Where are the talks? Here, in the city?”

“No. They’re in the old town of Fredrikstad, about an hour and a half away. He’s got some work here in Oslo tomorrow, then we’ll travel down the day after tomorrow. He asked if we wanted to go with him in his vehicles.”

“And what did you say?”

“What do you think? I said we had our own vehicle arranged by the QIA. Any word on that from my father?”

“Yes. I pick up the car tomorrow. By myself.”

75

J
ennifer ate the last of her Clif Bar and wadded up the wrapper, tucking it into a pouch attached to her hip. She checked the time, seeing it had crawled past eleven p.m. She clicked her radio and said, “Pike, Pike, this is Koko. I’m ready to move. Does Creed have control yet?”

“He’s getting there. Hang on. It’s taking some additional work.”

She shifted on her metal I-beam, biting back a retort. She knew everyone else was on the net, and it wouldn’t do to snap at Pike. Even though he deserved it.

Four hours, my ass.
Which is what Pike had said. She’d been stuck up in the ceiling above the ladies’ toilet for close to ten hours, smelling grease and hearing toilets flush, holding her breath every time the door opened. Things had slowed down after five, and then had begun to crawl by seven, but Pike refused to let her leave until Creed—their magic little hacker—could penetrate the internal security cameras for the bank, in effect giving her fair warning as she moved about. Irritated, she whispered, “I thought Creed said that damn slave device was going to alleviate all of this hacking work?”

Earlier, as soon as she’d entered through the ceiling tiles, she’d found a bundle of fiber-optic lines running through the space between the floors, and, guided by Creed, she’d spliced into one with a digital slave device that was supposed to make penetration easy.

Pike said, “It is, it is. According to Creed, without it, we wouldn’t stand a chance of breaking encryption. He’s working it. Just a little longer.”

Little longer. I should have taken Knuckles’s job. Let him do this.

She and Knuckles had entered the huge Alpha Bank complex between Panepistimiou and Stadiou Streets, near the university and the national library, ostensibly to rent a safe-deposit box. This, of course, they did, but their true purpose was twofold: one, determine the layout of the bank, to include the safe-deposit room, and two, for Jennifer to remain behind, setting up the escape.

After filling out the necessary forms in the old granite wing of the bank, they’d traveled four floors underground, to the vault area. Accompanied by a bank manager the entire time, they’d passed through a giant vault door like one seen on a movie set, and another steel cage door, then entered the safe-deposit-box room. The manager had given them a quick tour, then showed them their box. He’d turned one key and Knuckles the other, withdrawing the box. The manager had given them privacy at that point, whereupon they’d placed exactly nothing in the steel container.

They’d repeated the trip back to the first floor, thanking the manager and heading on their way. As soon as he was out of sight, Jennifer had split off. Knuckles had exited, and Jennifer had walked to the elevator. She took it to the fourth floor, entering a small lobby and seeing a closed double door with a keycard reader mounted on the wall. To the right was a pair of restrooms, one for men and one for women, just as Creed had said.

From her purse, she pulled out a device the size of a US quarter and peeled off a strip of paper, exposing adhesive tape. She’d pretended to try opening the door while sticking the device on the side of the key reader. Feigning disgust at not being able to enter, she’d then “gone to the bathroom.”

She’d been hiding ever since.

Pike came back on, “Koko, Koko, you ready?”

“Is that a joke? Yes.”

“Okay. You’re a go. We have God’s eye of the place. It looks empty on your floor. Some security below, but nothing with you.”

She came close to saying,
Yeah, I heard them all leave
, but didn’t.

Pike continued, “You’ve got a camera on the northeast corner near the elevator. When you leave the restroom, hug the wall. It’s got the door in view, but not the reader. You’ll be on camera for a second, but that can’t be helped. Once you’re through the first door, there’s another camera midway down. It’s focused on the offices, but I can see the edge of the server room door. I don’t want to see you on that one.”

She started slinking toward the tiles she’d used to get into the ceiling, saying, “You won’t.”

“Let me rephrase. Creed only got access to the feed. He hasn’t penetrated the system yet. If you’re on them, you’re getting recorded.”

She removed the tiles, hung for a minute in the dark, then dropped to the floor of the bathroom. She said, “Tell him he’s no longer on my favorites list. That’ll get some work out of him.”

Replacing the tiles, she heard nothing from her earpiece, then Brett came on. “Jeez, Jennifer, you’re getting cold and crusty for so little time here. Pike wouldn’t be so harsh.”

She smiled and crept to the door. “Okay, okay, don’t beat him up. He’s still my favorite. But I’d really like to know if there are any motion detectors. Can he help with that?”

Pike said, “Yeah, he’s got them, and they’re all on the ground floor, where the bank is. Nothing on your floor.”

She peeked out the door and said, “He’s back on my list. You can tell him that.”

She heard the aggravation in Pike’s voice even through the radio signal. “Would you screw all that ‘list’ shit and get on with the mission?”

She slipped out the door with a real grin breaking out, realizing Pike was right. She
did
love this stuff.

Brett said, “Pike, I think when you say ‘screw all this list shit,’ that’s what she meant. It gives Creed hope.”

She slid down the wall, her back to it, eyes on the northeast corner. She said, “Moving.”

Pike came on. “Everyone clear the net. Clear the net. No more jokes.”

She reached the keycard access and peeled away the device. She heard Brett say, “Man, talk about no humor . . . ,” then Pike, “Clear. The. Net.”

She said, “About to attempt entry. Brett, you ready?”

“Yep. Engine’s running. You call, I’ll be waiting, but you still have to get out.”

“Roger all.”

She held the small device to her phone, waiting on it to register with the cards that had used the key reader while she was hiding in the ceiling.

The majority of keycard readers used throughout the world were fairly secure, with massive encryption designed to prevent anyone from hacking the system, but most used a protocol that had a glaring flaw when the card actually talked to the reader. Since the distance was literally inches, it hadn’t been seen as a problem when the protocol was designed in the late ’90s. But like everything in the modern world, build a vulnerability and the hackers will come.

Her little device, based off of something called a BLEkey, intercepted the communications between the card and the reader in the nanosecond they talked, then translated the key. You couldn’t get the information from the reader without a two-thousand-year brute-force attack, and you couldn’t get it from the card, but when the two talked, it was as if they were speaking unsecure. All she had to do was download the results to her phone and she’d now have access.

Theoretically.

The downside was that if this was one of the few that had
mitigated such attacks, the card reader would know it and would send an alarm when she tried to penetrate. Which is where Brett came in.

She saw the algorithm register in her phone, then manipulated an app. It asked if she wanted to duplicate, and she tapped
YES
, then held the phone to the card reader.

The light went from red to green. She was in.

She pushed open the door and slid down the wall, stopping short of the first door on the left. In the dim light of the hallway, she saw the dome camera Pike had mentioned. She leaned forward and touched her phone to the keycard reader outside the door. It flashed green. Before turning the handle, she manipulated the screen of her app, bringing up a separate protocol. She turned the handle, opened the door, then touched the card reader with her phone again.

The light switched off.

She entered a room full of blinking servers, fiber-optic cables, and other mishmash, a short hallway leading off in the darkness. She keyed her radio and said, “I’m in. Keycard reader to this room is down.”

She heard the relief in Pike’s voice. “Good job. Saw you enter the hallway, but no reaction from security. They missed it. Let me know if Creed’s floor plan is correct. Everything hinges on that.”

She said, “Roger,” and put on a small Petzl headlamp, the tiny LEDs barely illuminating the hallway. She went down it slowly, finally ending at a dead end, a large access panel held in place by wing nuts to her front, looking as if it was used for the HVAC system. It wasn’t.

She unscrewed the wing nuts, removed the panel, and was staring down a giant shaft, multiple cables running up through the center of the space.

She said, “It’s good. I’m looking into the south elevator shaft. I can execute.”

Brett said, “Roger all, Koko. I’ll let Creed know he gets a favor from you. Can I roll?”

She smiled and said, “Let Creed know he did well. Nothing more. And yeah, you can roll.”

Pike came on. “Koko, get some sleep. You got the hard job. We’ll be coming in between noon and one, whenever the crowd’s the largest.”

She said, “Roger that. More Clif Bars for breakfast.”

“I’ll buy you a steak dinner. If we actually make it out of there.”

The words reminded her that this wasn’t all fun and games.