FATAL eMPULSE (8 page)

Somehow, her need to know might not be enough to keep her rear end out of trouble. And her prior contact with Gerrit only complicated matters. Really complicated matters—professionally and personally.

More must be going on than she knew.

Devon McAllister reached the outskirts of Miami when his cell phone pinged. Incoming text message. He snatched the phone and scrolled through the message.

Pay dirt! A location for Gerrit and his sidekick at a hotel in Miami. One of his crew knew a local businessman who provided security cameras for all the car-rental agencies around the airport. And for those the businessman did not provide, he found a way to access his competitor’s business network. For a hefty fee, Devon’s contact paid the guy to search all rentals for a specified period of time prior to the estimated arrival of Gerrit and the woman.

The long shot paid off. The contact scored a rental car, replete with an activated GPS locator, and the alias Gerrit used to rent the car. The rental car’s path was traced from where they parked near Gloria’s hotel to another hotel about a mile away.

Stupid idiot staying so close to their target location. That mistake was about to cost them dearly. Devon texted back to have the others set up a perimeter with an eyeball on the target’s car. He tapped in:
Don’t scare them off. Wait until I get there to move in
. He hit the Send button before dialing a preset number. Stuart Martin answered.

“Sir. We’ve located them and my men have their hotel surrounded. Do you want us to terminate the targets or snatch and grab?”

“I don’t want to risk another security breech. What’s the expression down there?
Feed ‘em to the sharks
.” Stuart clicked off.

February 23
Honolulu, Hawaii

A
Customs agent fingered Richard Dunsmuir’s passport. Tucked inside his suitcase—secreted in a false compartment even the best X-ray machines could never detect—he had another passport. Through a contact, he would later clear that second alias as having reentered the U.S. from the East Coast. He needed to travel under the radar while visiting the island state of Hawaii.

Today, he carried credentials of a businessman from Hawaii. One of several documents he got from his contacts in the State Department.

“Richard Dunsmuir. Welcome back to the U.S., sir. Do you have anything to declare?”

He shook his head. “Just a suitcase full of dirty laundry and a gift for my little girl. Can’t wait to get home.” He calmly smiled.

The agent gave Richard his passport and waved him on. “Two months overseas. I’m sure your family will be excited to see you.” He motioned for the next person in line.

Once outside the terminal, Richard climbed into a cab, directing the driver to the Hilton Hawaiian Village on Waikiki Beach. He rolled down the window and enjoyed the warm afternoon breeze. It seemed only minutes before he saw the palm-shaded Hilton. Beyond the hotel lay the sparkling-blue Pacific Ocean, whitecapped waves dotted with surfers and swimmers.

He gave the driver a hefty tip to add to the fare before entering the airy hotel lobby. As he waited for service, he glanced across the spacious veranda, enjoying the peaceful comforts of this resort. Another time, he might be more apt to relax in this laid-back setting, but today’s visit to the islands filled him with anxiety. It was critical that he make certain this one individual bought into his plan. If not, all the agreements he made with others would be useless.

A valet took his bag as Richard completed check-in, and they made their way toward the Ali’l Tower. They rode an elevator to one of the top floors, then entered a deluxe suite overlooking a white ribbon of sandy beach that narrowly separated a blue glistening ocean from palm groves and green lawns.

He stepped out on the balcony and breathed in the cooling breeze. Below, at the beach’s waterline, a wooden finger of a pier led to a boat launch. Sunbathers lay stretched out, paying homage to the tanning rays of the sun’s golden orb.

After tipping the valet, Richard walked to the bar to pour himself a drink. He glanced at the time and he had about an hour before his visitor arrived

When Richard left in the morning, he must remember to wipe this place down of any prints and to make sure to take the garbage with him—including the remnants of the beverage he was enjoying at this very moment. The last thing he needed was for his visitor to get cold feet and call the feds to search this room. Cleaning up after himself had become a part of how he did business, how he always stayed one step ahead of those who wished to destroy him.

He could always call those with the power to pull information, change data, or simply erase documentation about himself that might be locked away in so-called secure sites in several countries—including the United States. He rarely needed to do that. Fingerprints and DNA made things a little more challenging, but not impossible. A digital sleight of hand had served him well for many years. As technology changed, so did the process by which he and his organization functioned.

He walked out on the balcony, stretched out on a lounge chair, set his watch alarm, and tried to rest.

A rapping on the hotel door woke Richard from a light sleep. He glanced at his watch and saw his visitor had arrived early. Good. The man must be anxious.

Tiredness gripped him like an old acquaintance. International travel and his age had forced him to exist on little sleep. The few minutes of rest barely replenished his batteries. He swung the door open. “Come in, Mr. Henderson. Welcome to the islands.”

The man—middle aged, with a balding pate already pink from the sun, a bulging midriff, and a Hawaiian shirt bearing a confusion of colors that screamed
haole
—looked up and down the hallway before entering. He brushed past Richard and glanced around the suite as if he might be expecting others. “Are we alone, Mr. Dunsmuir?”

“Yes, Scott. Make yourself a drink and get comfortable.” He motioned toward the bar in the kitchen area. “And while you’re at it, refresh mine.” He handed Henderson his glass. “Scotch. Neat.”

Henderson took the glass and scurried toward the bar. A few minutes later, he returned with the drinks. They sat around a table that overlooked Waikiki Beach.

Richard cocked his head to one side. “First time to the islands?”

Henderson shook his head, his face tense. “Can we get down to business? I am a little worried about what you’re asking me to do.”

Richard toyed with how best to approach this man. Greed and the threat of exposure seemed to be good hands to play. Henderson allowed himself to be vulnerable because he desired opulence, a better life, and recognition at any price. Time to pay for these indiscretions.

“I am offering two million dollars, Scott. One million to be paid to any account of your choosing when we start. Another million upon completion of your part in this operation.”

“Sounds risky. I don’t know if that will be enough for what you’re asking me to do.”

Richard could not believe this scum would try to barter. Scowling, he leaned forward, a twitch in his left eye signaling that he needed to calm down. Time to add pressure. “I believe we are being very generous given your circumstances, Mr. Henderson. Very generous, indeed.”

Richard folded his hands on the table and considered what he should say next. “Let’s be frank. You got yourself into a bit of a pickle. I know you are under investigation for releasing classified information. If they can prove this—”

“That’s a bold-faced lie. I never—”

Richard held up his hand. “Whoa, slow down, Scott. First, we both know better, don’t we?” He let that statement sink in for a moment.

Unknown to Scott, military leaders and intelligence officers—when they learned someone had gained access to the plans—began to sweat bullets. Heads might roll if their secret got out. And Scott knew what he had done. Denial had just become second nature.

Richard acquired the plans of a system that had already been used against the enemy—most noticeably against Syria in 2007. He had targeted this design once he saw its effectiveness. Israeli jets penetrated Syrian airspace without detection and destroyed a facility at Dayr az Zawr believed to be used to develop nuclear weapons. The Israel’s F-15s and F-16s caught the air-defense system, provided by the Russians, with its pants down.

The Israelis—with Americans looking over their shoulders—zapped the Syrian air defense using two integrated programs. One identified as NCCT—network-centric collaborative targeting—by the military allowed operators to locate targets with minimum manipulation by human hands. Once NCCT found these targets, it handed the locations off to a system dubbed the Suter program. This second system electronically reduced the size of the target and zapped it with electronic impulses to corrupt the enemy’s system. Senior Suter entered that system—bouncing from network to network—until it penetrated the enemy’s communications loop, providing false information and signals that confused the enemy, even creating false targets and threats.

It was this system that Scott sent to Richard. And Richard, in turn, sold to the Russians.

Richard continued. “I said
if
they can prove it, you face substantial time in a federal penitentiary. That is, after the government gets through wringing every bit of information out of you. They might use words like
espionage
and
treason
at your trial. They really frown on that sort of thing. Do you understand where I’m going?”

Scott squirmed as he contemplated his situation.

“On the other hand,” Richard enjoyed the man’s discomfort, “I could protect you. And, as I mentioned before, offer you a very generous amount of money for what will total one day of work. How many others would promise you two million dollars? Right now, I understand you can’t even find work in your field. Something about being blacklisted because of trouble with you last employer.”

“Those were lies they spread. They said I tried to sabotage the project. An outright lie. They can’t prove anything—because I’m innocent.”

“Whoever set you up, Scott, they made it look like you purposefully inserted malware in the program you were asked to create after handing the plans off to an unknown party.”

“I don’t understand how that happened. I never programmed that virus. It would have been idiotic for me to do that.”

Richard nodded, trying not to smile. Henderson did not plant that virus. One of Richard’s contacts did and made it appear as if Henderson did it. Scott became an investigative target early on when they learned about his fight with the company over patent right and dividends. The company did not see it the same way, and Henderson flared up in front of witnesses. After they discovered the virus with a little help from Richard’s people, the company summarily fired Scott. Then Richard spread rumors throughout the industry about the incident, and Henderson could not find work anywhere. Now, Scott was ripe for the plucking.

Henderson ran a hand through his thinning hair. “How can you protect me? And what do you want me to do?”

A moment of decision. Would Scott agree to the plan? Not the whole plan. He would never find out the whole plan. Richard would reveal just enough to get Scott in so deep that he could never back out without facing personal consequences. Richard moved in for the kill.

“All we want you to do is to use your expertise in a training operation we’ve planned. We believe our air-defense system is vulnerable. We want you to help us prove this hypothesis to be correct. It will mean traveling overseas and staying there until we are ready for the test. You like the Mediterranean?”

“I don’t know. Never been there.” Henderson shrugged and stared at Richard’s face, maybe looking to see if there might be more danger to this plan than had been revealed. Maybe he was looking for a savior, someone who could pull him out of his Kafkaesque nightmare. “Okay. I’m in.”

“Fantastic, Scott. Just give me—”

“Here’s where you can send the money. An overseas account I set up. I’d hate the IRS to catch wind of this.”

Sneaky greedy devil.
In a way, Richard felt better about this arrangement. The man seemed to have gotten past his concern over the morality of this situation and moved on to the benefits. Would Henderson have been so eager if he knew that there was little chance he might survive?

The second this slimeball left the hotel, he would be under constant surveillance until the operation ended. The man was too big of a risk. One way or another, Scott Henderson was not long for this world. That thought made Richard smile.

February 23
Miami, Florida

U
pon Gerrit’s return to the hotel, he realized his cell phone had been left behind. He switched it on and saw Willy sent a 911 alert. Cursing himself, Gerrit hit the speed dial.

Willy picked up the call so fast, the guy must have been watching him dial. “Where you been, Mr. G.? I’ve been trying to reach you guys all night.”

“Calm down, Willy. What’s the problem?”

“Someone in Miami knows both Alena’s and your aliases and the car you checked out.”

“Tell me who and how you know this.”

“I can’t tell you
who
, Mr. G., but I can tell you
how
. They latched on to your aliases at the airport—either through the airlines or the rental-car agency. My bet is the latter. They started running your names like crazy, using credit-card information you used. Wherever you used that card, I’d bet they have people there right now. Restaurant. Hotel. Everywhere. I had your aliases flagged and learned they searched your information.”

“Okay. I’m at the hotel. Did you tell Alena?”

“No, man. She’s not picking up.”

He glanced over at the hotel room door. Illuminations from the hallway shone under it. He started to turn back in his chair when he saw a shadow cross the doorway. The shadow disappeared and then returned. Someone was pacing in front of his door.

“Got to go, Willy,” he whispered, then shoved the phone into his pocket.

He rolled across the bed and knelt behind it as he pulled a weapon from his ankle holster. He flicked off the safety and switched off the light near the bed. Aiming toward the door, he waited, trying to decide when to fling the door open and attack. Twenty feet to the door. A second to fling it open. Grasp the element of surprise. Eliminate the threat. Check for the next threat. Thirty seconds. Tops.