The Insider Threat (24 page)

O
mar trudged up the stone path into Tirana Park, eyes downcast and avoiding contact with anyone. Dressed like a local, with his red hair and blue eyes, he didn’t look at all like a fanatical follower of Islam. The only indication would be the bulky left side of his coat, drooping low, as if he were carrying a bunch of lead weights in it. Had someone searched him, they would have found a Czech CZ 75 pistol in his coat pocket, chambered in 9mm. Definitely not useful for a late-afternoon stroll.

He passed a couple pushing a newborn in a carriage and smiled, then took a left on a footpath. Unmarked, nothing but dirt well worn through the grass, it led steadily uphill. He reached the top, hitting another flagstone path, this one much bigger. To the left was a monument for historical figures in the life of Albania. To the right was a restaurant. He went right, climbing again. He passed a man incongruously selling chances to shoot a small rifle at a target, the proprietor listlessly sitting next to the weapon and smoking a cigarette. Omar passed him, amazed. The man hadn’t been here when he’d conducted reconnaissance the day before, and he found it incredible that someone could sell chances at shooting a target on top of a mountaintop full of parents and strollers. He wouldn’t have allowed that even in Syria.

He crested the hill and saw the amphitheater to the left, the artificial lake of Tirana beyond, the area blanketed with families out enjoying the fading sunshine. He paused a beat, trying to spot his Georgian friends. He could not, but assumed they were near. He left the path, heading downhill toward the amphitheater.

Created when Albania was a member of the defunct Soviet empire, it was built to resemble a smaller version of one of the great coliseums from the Roman Empire. The difference was that instead of being carved from granite and limestone, it had been created on the cheap, poured from concrete, with cement chairs and a slab of a stage, all of which had seen the ravages of time much, much more than the ancient structures it supposedly represented.

Covered in graffiti, it looked a lot like a section of the burned-out city of Kobani, Syria. At the top, on squat cement blocks, was a square concrete building, used for lights or other artificial help for the stage below. A set of metal stairs led up to a single steel door, looking like the entrance to a prison cell.

The meeting site.

He walked up the steps, the rust flaking off the railing. He reached the landing and banged on the door. It was opened by a man with a prominent nose and a threadbare woolen blazer. He simply stared at Omar.

Omar said, “This place reminds me of Aleppo. Have you been there?”

The man smiled, showing rotting, gapped teeth, and said, “No, but I can help you get it back.”

He swung the door open, and Omar entered, seeing a barren concrete room. Another man, standing in front of a table, moved forward and held out his hand.

“It is good to meet you. We’ve heard of your success, and support you.”

Omar knew they were working for money alone, their only real contribution being the security they afforded as Muslims. That, and the enormous amount of cash they were being paid, money gathered by Islamic State kidnapping and extortion, something the men in the room understood very well. The difference was every penny of the Islamic State’s income went to develop the caliphate, whereas their income went to their own satisfaction.

A fact Omar had no intention of forgetting. The meeting here was set up with the Islamic State, but it was facilitated by Jabhat al-Nusra. Men he’d tried to kill in the past. Men who were now in the upper echelons of power. A higher bidder, Muslim or otherwise, could cause his downfall.

He shook the man’s hand and saw artifacts on the table. Strange cases the size of cigarette packs, and a smartphone.

*   *   *

Shoshana saw my face and knew something had gone terribly wrong. She said, “What? What happened?”

She’d heard my end of the conversation, but not what Retro had said. While we could outfit the Israelis with mechanical things like beacons and weapons, the classified capabilities of the Taskforce smartphone were something beyond what I was able to transfer, even if I wanted to. Each one was configured for the specific team using it before deployment, including biometrics for security to prevent unauthorized access, so it would have done no good to give her one. I had spares, but unless she could duplicate some seriously technical aspects of the team’s biometric profile—voice recognition and fingerprint scans—the phone would simply shut down, reformatting itself.

Which meant Aaron and Shoshana were relegated to simple cell phone contact.

I ignored Shoshana, saying, “Retro, give me a grid. Break, break—”

He came back. “Already did. It’s in a section called Blloku. About a quarter of a mile away.”

I said again, “Great. BREAK, BREAK, nobody interrupt. Koko, you on?”

“Yeah, I got you. I heard. We’re outside the soccer stadium. I got the location from Retro. What’s the call?”

“Get to the target. Get Aaron inside. See if he can beacon the guy. Everyone else, box the area and stand by.”

Knuckles said, “Moving.”

Brett broke in. “Copy, copy. We don’t know what the guy looks like. Get a picture.”

I said, “I know, I know. Koko, you copy?”

She said, “Yeah, got it. We’re two minutes out. Dropping Aaron as a Foxtrot. He won’t have commo.”

Foxtrot
meant Aaron was going on foot. I stood up, nonchalantly throwing bills on the table. “I got it. I understand. Just get a fix. Give him instructions, and get a Dragontooth on the guy.”

The Dragontooth was a Bluetooth beacon about the size of an SD card with a pretty cool adhesive on the back. It could be placed against all manner of material and persistently stick, which was the extent of its NASA capabilities. As far as beacon work went, all it did was throw out a signal that we could pick up if we were in range. Which was about seventy meters.

Like a lot of Taskforce equipment, the R&D section had scoured the commercial sector and had found a unique device designed to locate lost items. You placed the device, called Tile, on whatever was prone to being lost, and it linked to a smartphone via Bluetooth, allowing you to find it if you were in range. The cool thing was that
anyone
who used Tile became part of an ecosystem, so that their phone, working in the background, would register your device and alert
you
. Lose your keys in a bar? If someone else entered and had the app, it would tell you where they were. It was crowdfunded surveillance, and the Taskforce had taken notice.

The Dragontooth operated the same way, only the Taskforce had an app that was implanted through malware into a host nation’s phone service, whereby our system was completely in the background. Basically, we hoped to turn the entire population—at least anyone with a smartphone—into unwitting surveillance drones. It was still in beta testing, but showed promise. Right now, the only devices with the app would be the Taskforce smartphones, but that was better than nothing.

The Tile system claimed a one-year shelf life, but it was operating on low-voltage Bluetooth. You had to be fairly close to the device before it registered. Ours was broadcasting a much more powerful signal, and that, coupled with the size restrictions, gave us a useful life of about forty-eight hours. That was it. Anything more would require a bigger battery, and that would require a bigger beacon. Unlike Hollywood, even the Taskforce couldn’t break the laws of physics.

Jennifer said, “Roger. Got it. Moving.”

Brett came on. “The Internet café is on a street with multiple avenues of approach. We can box it, but if he’s leaving on foot, we can’t cover all the alleys.”

Walking down the stairs, I realized I didn’t have a car to control the surveillance effort. I was supposed to take Jennifer’s car when she entered. I said, “Knuckles, Knuckles, come get me.”

He came on. “I can’t. If I do, we lose the exit to the north. I’m already moving.”

I looked at my phone, seeing the dots showing the team. I said, “Blood, swing right. Pick up Knuckles. Drop him off north of the café, then circle south. Knuckles, leave the keys in the ignition. We’ll be there in five.”

Knuckles said, “Pike, the streets are all one way. We do that, and we’re going to lose him. Blood will have to do a loop, crossing the canal. He’ll be tied up in traffic trying to get back and won’t get in position. Stay Foxtrot. Catch up when you can.”

The call countermanding me was uncharacteristic for Knuckles, and made me rethink my plan. If he said it was an issue, it probably was. But that didn’t alter the fact that I couldn’t control a surveillance effort walking on the sidewalk.

Jennifer came on. “Pike, Pike, this is Koko. I dropped off Aaron. I’m circling around. I’ll be across the river and cut back down the avenue leading to the soccer stadium. I’ll be there in five.”

I said, “Roger all. Meet us there.”

I heard the calls from the team, all trying to find a location that would prevent the escape of the target.

Shoshana, sick of being out of the loop, said, “What the hell is going on?”

I said, “Rashid went to a different Internet café. Your lover boy is in play. Hopefully, we get something.”

Her face turned feral and she said, “We will. If Aaron’s in with him, we’ll get all we need.”

I started jogging up the street, running past the host-nation police guarding our embassy, then paused at the crosswalk for the road leading to the stadium, Shoshana following without question.

Brett came on, saying, “I’ve got a reading from the Dragontooth, but no picture. Is it a false signal?”

I stopped, telling Shoshana, “Call Aaron. Find out his status.”

She did. I waited at the intersection, seeing the soccer stadium in the distance. Jennifer came on. “I’m here. Where are you?”

I said, “Hang on. Stand by.”

Shoshana hung up and said, “He got the beacon on, and got a photo. Coming out now.”

My phone buzzed, and I saw a picture of a middle-aged swarthy man, could be Italian or Mexican. But I knew what he was. I said, “Everyone got it? Blood, you got it?”

He said, “Yeah, I got it, and I’ve got eyes on. Moving south towards the park. I’m on him. Gotta ditch the car, but if I do and he gets picked up, I’m done.”

“Do it. Knuckles, pick up Aaron, then vector on Blood’s signal.”

We crossed the street, headed to the soccer stadium, and Shoshana said, “Are we doing anything for the surveillance, or just getting exercise?”

I realized she was still out of the loop because she wasn’t on our communications net. I filled her in on everything I knew.

R
ashid continued walking nonchalantly, not hurrying or doing anything that would spike the dozens of security cameras on the bars and stores he was passing. Blloku—or the Block—had been the heart of the Soviet empire in Albania, a section of the city that had housed the communist elite of the regime. Surrounded by vestiges of the old police state, with preserved pillboxes and sections of barbed-wire walls, Rashid understood that others believed the relics showed the death of the old guard, but he held no illusions that the surveillance state had gone with it.

He continued south, crossing streets and keeping a wary eye. He eventually reached a small restaurant outside the gates of Tirana Park, two policeman standing guard. He slowed, watching them as he pretended to wait on the traffic. Clearly bored, they spent more time looking at the women coming and going than for any potential threat.

He skipped across and threaded between them, drawing no attention, but it reminded him to be careful on the return. When they were following Omar.

He walked about a hundred meters and saw two men leaning against a small wooden bridge spanning a creek. His men.

They saw him coming and stood. He took a left onto a footpath, walked uphill fifty meters until he came to a park bench, and sat down, waiting for them to catch up.

When they did, he wasted no time. “Where is he?”

“At the amphitheater. As predicted. He’s inside right now.”

Rashid nodded. “And he came up this path?”

“Yes.”

“Can he leave without using this path?”

Hashim said, “Well, yes. Of course. This park has multiple exits with official stone walkways, and maybe forty more like the one we’re on now. Just dirt paths leading back to the city.”

Rashid nodded, thinking. He said, “Okay, so we have to get close. But not too close. We don’t want to upset the meeting. Just follow him to where he’s staying. I do not want to scare him. Let him do the mission, then follow. Understood?”

Both nodded their heads.

He said, “Can we see the theater from a distance?”

“Yes and no. It’s in a bowl, leading to the lake. From the top, we can see the building he’s in, but if he leaves through the amphitheater, going to the lake, we’ll lose him. We need someone low and high.”

“And you’ve been there? You know where you can spot the exit?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. There are people all over the area, most just sitting on benches or lying in the grass. It won’t be an issue. The problem will be following him if he doesn’t take the flagstone walkways. If he takes a footpath, we’ll be behind him and he’ll know. We can’t follow him through the woods like that.”

Rashid said, “One problem at a time. You both are armed?”

Hashim said yes, but looked alarmed. Rashid said, “Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything to happen, but I told you, this man is death. He has an instinct. Don’t give him a reason to use it.”

*   *   *

I saw Jennifer patiently waiting outside of the soccer stadium and sprinted to catch up, Shoshana right behind me. I slid into the passenger seat, hearing Shoshana slamming the back door. I looked at the icons on my phone and said, “Get to the front of the park. Stop short of the entrance.”

She put the car in drive without a word and I started working the radio. “All elements, all elements, this is Pike. I’m mounted and headed to the university parking lot. I’ll control from there. Status?”

Brett came on first. “This is Blood. I’m still the eye. He’s inside the park, and he’s meeting two other targets. He’s got a team here, and something’s going down. Stand by for photos.”

Shit.

My phone blipped and I saw two more swarthy individuals. I said, “I want you to be clear: You think he’s operational right now? As in an attack?”

I heard, “Stand by.”

Then, “Meeting’s breaking up. They’re spreading out. Two UNSUBS and the target. All headed separate ways.”

I thought about the ramifications. The park was full of kids and families. Why on earth would he do an attack here? What would it get him? Albania wasn’t exactly on the list of crusader heathen states, being a majority Muslim country. I asked Brett again, putting a lot on his shoulders, “What’s your read? Do we need to close for intervention? Is this a threat?”

The Taskforce charter in no way extended to hostile threats against foreign interests, but I wasn’t about to sit back while that asshole conducted a Pakistan-schoolhouse-type attack, killing kids left and right just because he could.

After a pause, Brett said, “No. I don’t think so. They may be armed, but it’s pistols only, if they are. No backpacks and no long guns. I don’t think it’s an attack. They’re doing something else.”

Whew.

“Okay, okay. Knuckles, status?”

“Just pulled up to a B&B. Got Aaron and Retro.”

“Roger. All elements flood the park. Blanket him, but loosely. No idea what he’s doing, but I really don’t care, unless he shows a threat. Ignore the UNSUBS. I don’t give a shit about them unless they’re going to compromise you. Keep tabs on them to prevent that, but if they choose to leave, let ’em go. Everyone have their pictures?”

I got a roger from all, then Shoshana said, “Stop the car. Let me out.”

I said, “What for?”

“We’re paralleling the park right now. I can see it through the woods right there. Let me out. I’ll enter from here.”

“You’ve got no comms.”

“I’ve got a cell phone. This isn’t hard. If he comes this way, call me. I’ll pick him up. All of your guys are behind him. Put me ahead.”

Jennifer had already pulled over, looking at me for a decision, the park right next to us, hidden by a string of forest as thick as Brer Rabbit’s home. I said, “How are you going to get in? There isn’t a path here.”

She pointed, and I saw a gap through the woods, a trickle of water running off of a worn concrete sluice. The break was only about a foot across, but I knew the woods were thickest at the sunlight. She could crawl through, and I was sure it would open up. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to turn her loose.

I turned around in the seat, looking at her. She said, “You don’t think I can get through the woods?”

I saw her eyes and knew she’d already read me in her creepy way. That wasn’t what she was asking. I said, “I’m sure you can get through the trees, but I’m not so sure about getting out of the forest. The one in your head.”

She leaned down and screwed a suppressor into the Glock we’d given her, saying, “I told you: This mission is yours. The mission comes first.”

She sat back up and said, “I’ll kill no one unless you tell me to. And I’ll die if it’s called for, without pulling a trigger. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, damn it. That’s exactly what I
do not
want to hear. Get up there and box him in, but don’t do anything stupid. We’ve got the beacon, and worst case, we can always go back to the Internet café.”

She opened the door and said, “Sounds good. I didn’t want to miss my first date anyway.”

She slid out, and Jennifer watched her slink into the culvert. She said, “That was a good call. She’s really, really skilled.”

I said, “Yeah, she’s skilled all right. Skilled at mind control. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.”

Jennifer put the car into drive, heading toward the entrance to the park. She said, “It wasn’t, but what was she talking about?”

She wove through the traffic, looking at me while trying to hide a grin. I said, “What do you mean?”

“What ‘first date’?”

I spluttered for a moment, and Jennifer’s grin broke out for real. “I can’t wait to tell Knuckles he was right. She’s smitten with you.”