The Identity Thief (30 page)

X agreed. "Every player sometimes drops the ball. All I will need is a computer and access to your account. And as soon as it is done, I must be allowed to speak to my wives on the phone."

* * *

They reached the small unmarked room that housed the computer. Entry had required two keys, one turned by Dr. Zawari and the other by The Chief. As Dr. Zawari turned the second key and prepared to open the door, a pair of aides came running down the hall. The spokesman wore Coke-bottom-bottle glasses that looked as if they could barbecue a 400-pound hog under the sunlight. Unlike everyone else here in terrorist Wonderland, he didn't wear a turban, but rather an American-style baseball cap with a Batman insignia.

"We did as you said, Dr. Zawari. Took the laptop apart piece by piece, examined every piece of data even recovering all information on the hard drive someone had attempted to erase."

His voice was monotonic, reminding X of an after-school special he'd seen ages ago about Asperger's syndrome.
Perhaps he's an idiot savant computer genius,
X speculated.
That's why they tolerate eccentricities like the silly hat.

Dr. Zawari turned from the door and looked at X.

"I don't imagine you anticipated that we would have a forensic computer team down here?"

"No, I am indeed impressed," X replied. "I am eager to hear what you found."

The terrorist Rain Man showed them a tiny chip smaller than a ladybug.

"This is a tracking device," he said in that disconcertingly robotic voice. "We also found evidence of multiple attempts to hack our computers. There were also encrypted messages sent. We have been able to unlock only one. It is in Hebrew, but coded.

"Six message we have traced to an IP address in Tel Aviv. There is one other we have traced to an IP address in Brazil."

"Brazil?" Dr. Zawari said, his brows knitting.

X nodded. "I've heard that the Israelis have bases in both Brazil and Argentina. They started out as safe houses for Nazi hunters."

Dr. Zawari snatched the tracking device and angrily crushed it under his heel.

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for that," X pointed out. "We must accomplish our task before this place is reduced to rubble."

* * *

The Chief, Dr. Zawari and Fareek clustered around X as he sat at a terminal in the cramped confines of the computer room. The identity thief prayed they couldn't see the sweat trickling down his forehead. His partner Samantha always handled the computer work. He was far from computer illiterate, but beyond a little phishing, he was a rank amateur.

The Chief told him how to access the funds of the Warriors of Allah. They were racking up interest in a Swiss bank account. X was a bit surprised. He didn't think evildoers trusted the Swiss anymore. Hadn't they given up their criminal clients and corrupt rulers under pressure from international investigators and gone straight?

The Swiss must be up to their old tricks. I should have known they wouldn't go back to making cuckoo clocks.

"The account number?" he asked The Chief.

"It's 8502-384-95871-9687," the elderly man said, referring to a slip of paper in his hand, as X punched in the numbers.

"And the password?"

The Chief hesitated. X shifted in his seat uneasily. Was the oldster finally growing suspicious? Surely 20 years of running a terrorist organization must have given him heightened survival instincts.

"The password, sir?" X repeated in as even a tone as he could muster.

"Give me a moment," The Chief said. The Chief's eyes narrowed and he seemed to be scrutinizing X.

The party's over,
the conman thought.
Unless ... you've got to be kidding me. The old duffer really is going senile. He's forgotten the number!

"Your child's birthday?" Dr. Zawari suggested.

The Chief seemed offended. "I would never choose something so obvious."

"The Chief is far wiser than that," Fareek scolded the physician.

"Perhaps a line from one of your favorite poets?" X suggested.

"Of course," The Chief said, clapping his hands in delight. "It is 'Xanadu.' "

First X remembered this as the title of a dreadful '80s roller-skating musical starring Olivia Newton John. Then the opening of Coleridge's poem, last read in high school, came back to him.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a sacred pleasure dome decree ...

X found it puzzling that The Chief had chosen an English poet. But he typed in X-A-N-A-D-U and sure enough the account popped open.

$45,401,033,656.07

X stared at the figure and resisted the urge to whistle. He'd never seen so many digits. He was literally salivating and wondered if dollar signs were flashing in his irises like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Leaving that account open on the screen, X visited the site of the "National Bank of Zimbabwe" and accessed an account held under the name of the International Crusade to End World Hunger. The Web site displayed the bank's logo, featuring the country's flag. The account held $20 million.

Dr. Zawari raised an eyebrow. "Only $20 million? I thought your fortune was far greater than that, Mr. Nazeer."

The Chief chuckled, "That from a country doctor who made $20,000 a year treating farmers for sores on their penises."

The aide blushed. "I was only saying ..."

Dr. Zawari, a urologist before signing up, was sensitive about money matters. He'd never raked in as much as his father, one of King Abdullah's personal physicians.

"These are emergency funds," X explained. "I have accounts in eight other countries. I don't believe in putting all my eggs in one basket."

"We should diversify too," Fareek said. "I've always said so."

The Chief nodded. "This is true, but for now, we must concentrate on keeping our funds safe from the Americans. Transfer the funds to your account."

X shook his head. "It is written that wise men live together like brothers and do business like strangers. Let us do this in such a way that no one can be accused of chicanery. When I transfer your funds to the Zimbabwe bank, let us give you a new password so that no one except you will be able to access the account, not even myself."

"Is there time for all this?" The Chief asked. "The Americans..."

"Oh yes," Dr. Zawari jumped in, clapping a hand firmly on X's shoulder. "Trust me, there is most certainly time. I insist."

"I would feel more comfortable doing it this way," X said.

The Chief nodded. "Let it be so."

X's fingers flew over the keyboard deleting the old password. A screen popped up asking for the entry of a new password. He swiveled around so that his back was turned as The Chief typed in a complex phrase. It had at least 20 letters and the odds he'd forget it by the afternoon seemed high.

"Finished," said the old man at last.

"Now we can transfer the funds," said X, the cursor poised over the "Confirm" button.

At that moment, Hamid burst into the room and all the men turned to him.

"The information has come from our agents in Kuwait," he said, hyperventilating. "Their investigation of Ali Nazeer has borne fruit."

"You could not have arrived at a more auspicious moment," Dr. Zawari said.

"Our agents have discovered th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th—"

X's hands hovered over the keyboard as the men waited for Fareek with bated breath. It took half a minute for the young aide to put the brakes on his stuttering.

"Our agents have discovered that Ali Nazeer is clean of any involvement with the infidels," Hamid declared. "His entire organization is devoted to the Cause."

X's fingers unfroze.

The Chief smiled broadly. "Of this I had no serious doubt," he said. "Transfer the funds."

X punched a key and up came the prompt. "Well, Chief, are you sure you want to execute this transaction? Speak now or forever hold your peace."

The Chief nodded and X clicked on "Confirm."

It took a moment for the transfer to take place, a green bar creeping snail-like across a little rectangle in the middle of the screen. Ten percent ... 20 percent ... 40 percent ...

As was said at the outset, X found occasions like this rather nerve-wracking. But trying to play it off, he leaned back in the swivel chair with his fingers interlaced behind his head.

"After this I must have some of your fine tea and read that children's story in its entirety," X said. "Once I have confirmed that my family is safe, of course."

"You deserve much more that that for your service," The Chief said, beaming. "When it is complete, I will send you a signed first edition."

"That I would surely treasure."

Dr. Zawari rolled his eyes.

On the right side of the screen the number $45,401,033,656.07 showed up in the Zimbabwe account, while on the left side of the balance of The Chief's account read zero.

The Chief gave a sigh of relief. "It is done."

"The CIA has no knowledge of this bank in Zimbabwe," X said. "But you must remain vigilant and be prepared to move the funds again in the future."

"Glory be to Allah," Hamid said.

The Chief embraced X. "You have done a wonderful thing, my young friend."

"There is no power nor strength except Allah," X said.

"True, but there has never lived a man who has given more to the cause of the Jihad," Dr. Zawari said, surprising X with this tip of the hat. "If the Americans had seized those funds, all our years of planning ..."

"You give me too much credit," said X. He slumped on the chair. He didn't have to fake exhaustion. The stress had nearly killed him.

The Chief gestured for him to rise. "Now you may have some of my tea," he said.

The leader of the Warriors of Allah smiled and led X to his study. He allowed his valuable ally the honor of sitting at his mahogany desk and poured him a cup of tea.

"I am sure that as an Eton man, you will appreciate this," he said. "It is a special blend from Salisbury."

He phoned his men at Ali Nazeer's mansion and gave them the order to set the hostages free. Then he handed the phone to X. "Ascertain for yourself that they are safe," he said. "Pass on to them my humble apologies."

"I will tell them that they were in no danger, that it was all in the service of the Jihad," X replied.

"Good man."

X delivered that terse message to the billionaire's still distraught, weeping wife and assured her they would speak again soon. He returned the phone to the Chief, who put it back in the box.

"Relax a few minutes and enjoy, my friend," the leader said, beaming. "You have earned it."

There was a bowl of candies on the desk, including mints, chocolates and Jolly Ranchers. X saw a yellow hard candy on top.

"May I?"

The Chief gave the kind of smile a dad might give a son who'd just batted in a homerun in Little League. "Of course."

X popped the lemon candy in his mouth.

"I would join you for some tea and a discussion of the book, for I value your suggestions," the Chief said. "But I must supervise the evacuation."

X couldn't imagine the logistics in getting that many men and, presumably, their weapons out of the caverns, but it was obvious the terrorists had drilled for such an eventuality.

The Chief looked around the library wistfully.

"In a few minutes someone will come for the books. I wish I could take them all but my old Britannicas will have to stay. I shall have them burned rather than be soiled by the infidels. Have you heard that the company has ceased to publish the print addition? Philistines!"

As he left, X sat back in the leather-backed Captain Kirk chair, savoring the citrus taste.
So this is what it feels like to command a terror network,
he thought.

* * *

Traci was in bed in her private quarters at Fort Freedom, located at the base of a mountain in Afghanistan near the Pakistan border, when a knock came on the door.

"You have a phone call, Miss Washington," the young officer said. It had taken nearly a week, but she now responded to the false name without hesitation. (She wasn't all that happy with the Committee's choice, by the way. Why does every black person have to be a Washington?)

"I'll take it my office."

She had been airlifted to the secret base by chopper from the extraction point, after radioing in. (Where exactly on her person that tiny transmitter was hidden will remain her little secret.) She hated being reduced to overseeing the operation from afar - "playing Zeppo" as intelligence officers often called those who remained behind the scenes manning recording devices.

The agent sat at the desk in the cluttered office - from which a captain had been booted, much to his chagrin - and was surprised when she heard Mr. Jones's distinct voice on the line. She had expected to receive notice via an encrypted email.

"The funds have been received," the spymaster told her. "It's a go."