Wired. Part 11

"If she's wrong, we'll have wasted time and inconvenienced the colonel. But if she's right, we'll have saved his life." Desh paused. "I a.s.sume you have a car, correct?" he persisted.

Griffin looked ill but finally nodded unhappily. "What if I'd prefer to stay here and let you meet with this Connelly by yourself?"

Desh shrugged. "Suit yourself. But in that case I won't be able to tell you what you're up against until I see you again. And you have to ask yourself if you feel safer on your own right nowa"or with me."

Griffin frowned. "I'll go," he mumbled unhappily.

"Good. Can you jump on the computer and find the midway point by car between here and Fort Bragg, North Carolina?"

Griffin sat at his computer and seconds later a satellite map appeared on the large plasma screen. The image of the East Coast of the United States was almost uniformly green and not a single sign of human habitation, including the largest cities, could be detected. The Atlantic Ocean appeared as a much deeper and more vibrant shade of blue than when viewed from the beach. Griffin overlaid the satellite imagery with a driving map that highlighted the route between the two locations, spotting a promising town almost immediately. His hands flew over the keys.

"Emporia Virginia," he announced. "It's 172 miles from D.C. and 155 miles from Bragg."

"Good," said Desh. "Any State Parks? Woods? That sort of thing."

Griffin worked the mouse to display a helicopter's-eye view of Emporia and its vicinity and began to fly this virtual helicopter slowly forward. He called up further information on the town and displayed it on one of the smaller monitors. "There's a hydropower dam in Emporia on the Meherrin River. The river flows northwesterly from the dam."

"Find a two-lane road that parallels the river and woods and follow it northwest," instructed Desh. He had decided to borrow from Kira's playbook. Her choice of motels had been tactically ideal. "Try to locate a quarter-mile to a half-mile chunk of woods flanked by roads on either side. Easily accessible but fairly isolated."

Griffin swooped down to the Meherrin River dam and found a nearby road that fit Desh's requirements. He followed the road as instructed, zooming closer when he found a candidate location and back out again when he needed a more panoramic view. Whatever satellite database he had hacked into allowed him to get clearer pictures and zoom in more closely than he would have been able to do using the satellite imagery available to the general public.

"I think I've got it," said Griffin.

Desh studied the screen. Sure enough, about twenty miles from Emporia another road appeared on the right flank, sandwiching the woods between it and the road Griffin had been following. The roads ran parallel on either side of the woods for several miles.

"Continue to follow your original road, but slower and from a lower alt.i.tude," said Desh.

Griffin swooped in closer and did as instructed. Desh pursed his lips in concentration and studied the rapidly changing landscape. "Stop," he barked. "Back up just a little."

Desh pointed to an area of road that ab.u.t.ted a section of the tree line that had a break in it. A car could pull off at this point and circle back around without hindrance to a pocket-shaped clearing, about fifty yards away, that couldn't be seen from the road. He only hoped that enough of the trees had retained their leaves to provide adequate cover. Since the satellite data was somewhat dated, it was impossible from the imagery to know for sure.

"Get the GPS coordinates for this break in the tree line and write them down for me while I make a call," said Desh.

Desh lifted the receiver of Griffin's phone. It was cordless but still a landline, which was what he needed. Cell phone traffic was far too easy to intercept. He had checked the phone carefully for listening devices previously and it was clean. He dialed Connelly's scrambled line at his office at USASOC, praying he would be in.

It was picked up on the fist ring. "David?"

"That's right."

"I'm glad you called. And on my secure line at that," added Connelly approvingly. "I've begun looking into this Kira Miller case more carefully and I'm hitting roadblocks that shouldn't be there for someone with my clearance. I think you're right. There's a lot more going on here than meets the eye."

"Colonel, I've learned more since we last spoke. Not enough to complete the picture, but enough to suspect you may have just kicked a hornet's nest. I think you could be in danger. I recommend you leave your office immediately. Write this down," he said. Desh gestured to Griffin who handed him the newly scribed GPS coordinates. Desh read them carefully to Connelly. "The coordinates I just gave you are to a short break in the tree line that parallels the road you'll be on. Otherwise the tree line is unbroken for many miles. If you go off road there you'll find a pocket in the woods, hidden from the road. Meet me there in as close to three hours from now as you can manage. First check your clothing and car for bugs and a.s.sume you're being followed."

"Roger that," said Connelly, trusting Desh enough to follow his instructions without asking any questions.

"I'll be with a friend: about six-five, 300 pounds, bushy beard. I'll explain everything when I see you." Desh paused. "Before we sign off," he added, "has Smith contacted you yet today to explain what last night was all about?"

"Smith?"

"It's an obvious alias. I'm talking about the person you asked me to call in when I found Kira Miller. Black Ops officer; short, wiry. Scar under his ear."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, David," said Connelly in alarm. "Black Ops? I was told that number is to the private cell phone of my boss at MacDill: Brigadier General Evan Gordon."

22.

The army, navy, air force, and marines each had their own Special Operations Command, but all four reported in to the US Special Operations Command, or USSOCOM, at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida, headed by a four-star general. It made sense that this case warranted attention higher up the chain of command and that the contact information had been for Connelly's boss.

Desh felt his skin crawl. The news that Smith wasn't who he claimed to be significantly increased the chance that Kira had been right and Connelly was in imminent danger. This called into question the veracity of everything that Smith had told him. Desh knew he needed to consider the full implications of this new information and discuss this further with Connelly, but that would have to wait for another time. He ended the conversation quickly so the colonel could begin taking steps to protect himself.

"Ready to go?" asked Griffin when Desh was off the phone.

"Not yet. I need to think," said Desh. He lowered his head for almost a full minute as Griffin waited anxiously.

Desh finally lifted his head and looked at Griffin thoughtfully. "It's possible that we're no longer under surveillance or we're being surveilled by friendlies," he said. "But we can't be certain of this, so we need to freeze anyone watching. We need to make sure they don't have any reason to point their satellites at the exits of this building while we're leaving."

"What are you talking about? Whoever is after us can't just access satellites and get real-time imagery of whatever they want on a whim."

Desh raised his eyebrows.

Griffin swallowed hard. "Come on, David," he said nervously. "Are you saying these people are so high up in Big Brother they can authorize real-time satellite surveillance of us?"

"I have reason to believe so, yes."

"Holy Christ!" barked Griffin. "We're totally and completely screwed."

"Don't count us out just yet," said Desh. "I have an idea. If we can convince them we'll be staying here for a while they'll have no reason to point a satellite at your apartment complex."

"How do you know they aren't watching the exits the old fashioned way?"

"I'll reconnoiter the area before we leave, but I don't think they are. They've told me they're calling off the dogs to get my cooperation. They know I'll be checking carefully to see if they've gone back on their word."

Griffin didn't look convinced. "So what's your plan?"

Desh told him. He would remove the bugs from the container in which he had placed them and a.s.sume they were still active. Then they would put on a little play for their audience. "For a hacker with your social engineering skills this should be a snap," said Desh encouragingly. "Don't overact, don't speak woodenly as if you're reciting lines, and don't speak directly into the bug. They'll pick up your voice from wherever you are. Just be yourself. If this seems staged it'll blow up in our faces."

Griffin frowned. "Thanks for not putting any pressure on me," he said dryly. He paused for a few seconds to get things straight in his head, took a deep breath, and then gestured for Desh to proceed.

Desh carefully removed the bugs, putting a finger to his lips unnecessarily, and then nodded at Griffin to begin.

Griffin's face was a mask of concentration. "David?" he said in disbelief. "David Desh? Wake up."

"Whaa"" mumbled Desh.

"Wake up and tell me what the h.e.l.l's going on here?" demanded Griffin accusingly. "Why did I just wake up in the middle of my floor? What the h.e.l.l are you doing here sleeping on my couch?" He delivered the lines convincingly, throwing himself smoothly into the role as Desh had hoped he would.

"Sorry," said Desh, doing a good job of sounding groggy. "I stopped over a few hours ago and couldn't get you awake. I fell asleep myself while I waited for you to sleep it off. I was exhausted." He paused. "Still am for that matter."

Desh went on to repeat the conversation they had had earlier when he had filled Griffin in on the night before. He then repeated the specifics of the a.s.signment he wanted Griffin to work on, an extensive foray into Kira Miller's past. "Look, Matt, I'm really sorry about this, but I still need to regenerate. Do you mind if I continue to sleep on your couch while you work?"

"Go ahead," said Griffin.

"Thanks. Can you wake me in exactly two hours and give me a progress report?"

"Will do," responded Griffin.

Desh gave the thumbs up signal to Griffin and then put his finger to his lips. He carefully returned the bugs to the soundproof container.

"Nicely done, Matt," he said appreciatively.

With any luck anyone keeping tabs on them would relax for a while and decide that any satellite use for the next few hours would be a waste of resources.

Desh continued to visualize different scenarios that might arise and considered making a stop at his apartment for bulletproof vests, but quickly ruled this out. It would be risky and take too much time. Besides, the vests could only stop handgun fire and not rifle-fire. If the military were involved in this, even a small rogue element, they would a.s.sume he was wearing a vest and choose their weaponry accordingly. In this case the vests would be a disadvantage rather than an advantage. He enjoyed the Star Wars movies as much as the next guy, but had always seen Storm Troopers as the height of stupidity: their head-to-toe white body armor did nothing but slow them down and make their movements awkward while failing to protect them one iota from even the weakest blaster.

Desh removed the thick wad of hundreds from the case he had brought and held them out in front of his face to show Griffin. "An ample supply of cash can prove just as useful in certain emergency situations as a weapon can," he said, and then shoved the bills into his front pants pocket.

Griffin raised his eyebrows. "And here all these years I was under the impression that carrying a huge amount of cash actually put you in greater danger, not less. Who knew?"

Desh grinned. "Do you have a cell phone on you?" he asked.

Griffin nodded.

"Leave it. I'm sure you know they can be used as homing beacons."

Griffin pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on his desk. "Okay," he said, nodding toward Desh. "What about your phone?"

"It's a special design issued by my firm. It can't be tracked. You can't protect people effectively if their enemies can track you."

Desh slipped out the door and scouted the area for ten minutes, until he was satisfied the coast was clear. Even so, they took separate exits from the building, keeping their heads down and walking as un.o.btrusively as possible.

Griffin retrieved his car, a blue Chrysler minivan, and met Desh two blocks from the apartment complex. Griffin slid over into the pa.s.senger seat. Desh jumped in, quickly adjusted the seat and mirrors, and drove off. The minivan hadn't had a bath in some time and it was cluttered with empty water bottles, Starbucks containers, and even an empty pizza box.

Desh turned to Griffin and raised his eyebrows. "A minivan?" he said with a smile. "Interesting choice for a single guy like you, Matt. I hear these are real chick magnets."

"You Special Forces sissies may need flashy sports cars to attract the fairer s.e.x, but not us hackers," responded Griffin with mock bravado. "Women find us irresistible. We get swarmed like rock stars."

Desh laughed. "I see. So the minivan is actually a tactic to fend them off?"

"Exactly," replied Griffin with a grin.

"Good choice, then."

Griffin laughed. "Actually," he said, "I use it to haul around scores of old computers, sometimes rebuilding and reselling them and sometimes cannibalizing parts." He smiled slyly. "And as for women, I do very well for myself. And I really don't need a fancy car. I meet and attract them all the old fashioned way."

Desh gazed at Griffin quizzically.

"Online, of course," he said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Desh's smile remained for several seconds. When it was finally gone, a grave expression replaced it. "All right, Matt," he said. "It's time to tell you what I know, incomplete as it is."

Griffin's face reflected both eagerness and anxiety, in equal measure.

Throughout the long drive to Emporia, Desh told Griffin everything he knew and the current state of his a.n.a.lysis, forcing himself to obey the speed limit as he did so; battling his nature so they wouldn't risk getting pulled over. The day remained overcast, with intermittent rain, although it appeared they were driving away from the rain rather than toward it.

When Desh had finished, Griffin was dumbfounded. "This is truly astonishing stuff here, David. If any of this is true the implications are staggering," he said.

Desh pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. "I know I've managed to put you in the middle of all this, but if it makes you feel any better, you and I could be standing at the crossroads of human history. The decisions we make now could well play a role in stopping a bioterror threat and bringing the fountain of youth to the world."

"Thanks David," said Griffin, a pained expression on his face. "Now I feel a lot more relaxed."

"I was shooting for inspiration."

"And you succeeded. I'm inspired and freaked out at the same time."

Desh smiled. "Why don't you tell me what you learned about Kira while I was asleep," he said.

Griffin was five minutes into his report when Desh's cell phone went off. He pulled it from his pocket and eyed the screen warily. It was Connelly. And given the call was unsecured, it had to be urgent. Connelly's cell, like Desh's, was untraceable, but it paid to keep the communication short and to the point.

"Yes," snapped Desh as he answered the call.

"I'm tracking non-stop toward our rendezvous point, with an ETA as planned," said Connelly. "Managed to flush out some company. I think I lost them but can't be sure."

"Understood," said Desh. He paused in thought for a moment and then added, "Stick with the original plan. I'll monitor your perimeter after you arrive."

"Copy that," said Connelly, ending the connection.

Griffin eyed Desh questioningly as he put his phone away.

"The colonel detected a car following him," explained Desh. "But he thinks he lost them."

"Thinks he lost them?" said Griffin nervously.

"We have to a.s.sume he hasn't."

"But I heard you say, *stick with the original plan.' Why would you do that if you still think he might have been followed?"

"Because we need information and this might be our best chance to get some."

"How?"

"By setting up an ambush for any unwanted guests," responded Desh gravely.

Griffin shook his head vigorously. "No way!" he croaked, his lofty vocabulary invariably coming down to earth when he was scared or angry. "That's not what I signed on for. You may thrive on all this macho military bulls.h.i.t, but I'm not interested in any of it."