Wired (14 page)

“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 altitude,” 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 abutted 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 first 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 assume 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, three hundred 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 assume 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.”

“Wha—”
mumbled Desh.

“Wake
up and tell me what the hell’s going on here?” demanded Griffin accusingly. “Why
did I just wake up in the middle of my floor? What the hell 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
assignment 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 assume 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 unobtrusively as possible.

Griffin
retrieved his car, a blue Chrysler minivan, and met Desh two blocks from the
apartment complex. Griffin slid over into the passenger 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 sex,
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 amusement.

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 analysis, 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 assume 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 bullshit, but
I’m not interested in any of it.”

Desh
let out a heavy sigh and frowned deeply. “Me either, Matt,” he mumbled wearily.
“Me either.”