Predator's Game, page 31
part #6 of Scott Wolfe Series
I nodded my head to the side, weighing his obfuscation with the facts. He had a minor point, but it still didn’t relieve me of my guilt. “I’m going to get these guys,” I said before I turned to walk away. “First I’m going to take their money, and then I’m going to gut them like a fatted calf.”
“Do you want Agency assets once we have the systems cleaned out?” he yelled at my back.
I shrugged. “I’ll let you know.”
“Hey,” he yelled as I got further away. “Why’s the plane still here if you aren’t going to use it.”
I stopped and turned. “A gift…something to make Combine nervous.”
Penny walked up the stairs and disappeared briefly before returning with a smile on her face. “That was fast thinking,” she yelled at me before looking at John. “He’s got our ADMAX prisoner on life support in the back.”
“He won’t tell you much,” I said. “But he’s going to make a great target.”
John smiled and shook his head.
“Your pilot is tied up in the back of the plane…he seemed a little skittish,” I yelled before walking around the hangar.
After making my way to the terminal, I spotted Kathrin in an airport restaurant. Some guy was sitting next to her, totally not reading her body language that he needed to back off. I joined her, pulling up a stool next to her at the bar. The guy who’d been leaning in close to her shot me a menacing glare.
“How’s it going?” I asked her in a sexy, pick up voice.
“Good, how about you?” she replied, sporting an authentic-sounding Mid-Atlantic accent.
“I’m doing okay…hoping to get out of here today.”
“Me too,” she muttered as she nodded her thanks to the bartender when he brought her a second plate of hot wings.
“Really? Where you headed?”
“Just out of here,” she replied after sucking the meat off a wing.
“Mmm. Those look good.”
She pushed the plate toward me. “Help yourself.”
The guy on the other side of her shot me a disgusted glare. “You got a problem, buddy?” I asked.
He turned away moving himself and his cocktail down a few seats.
I leaned over and whispered in Kathrin’s ear, “Where’d you put the rifle?”
She giggled before flashing very flirty eyes at me. “I took it apart and put it in a locker,” she whispered before leaning closer and kissing my ear. “The key’s in my bra…you want to find it?”
I pulled her top open a little and saw it tucked nicely between her breasts. When I looked up, I noticed the bar guy glaring at me again. “Dude, if you look at me one more time, I’m gonna—”
Kathrin grabbed me by the sleeve as she picked up her bags, tugging me to the exit. I tossed one of John’s hundred dollar bills on the bar as we left.
“Where’d you get that?” she asked.
“A going-away present from John,” I replied, looking over my shoulder toward the bar. “Did you get the tickets?”
“Not yet. I didn’t know which ID you wanted to use,” she whispered. “Your bag is in the locker with the weapons.”
I nodded and opened Penny’s messenger bag, pulling out the envelopes. I opened them as we walked toward the ticketing counters. Inside each was a clean ID from Nick’s off-the-books cobbler—complete with credit cards, library cards, and various other photo and non-photo IDs.
“Those are good quality,” she said.
I tucked all but one back into my bag as we detoured to the lockers. “Do you have a US passport in your stash?”
She nodded.
I handed her the passport I was going to use to enter the Caymans. “How would you feel about honeymooning in the Caymans, Mrs. Rayneman?”
“Rain man?”
“I know…it’s Nick’s idea of a joke,” I said pulling my bag out of the locker and then closing it again, leaving the guns behind.
“I’d be very pleased to be Mrs. Rain man,” she replied. “But you have to let me pick out the rings.”
I smiled, letting the warmth of that fantasy tempt me for a split second. “That sounds like a very good trade… I made out like a bandit.”
As we moved back toward the ticketing counter, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to John—one of the few cell phones at the Agency I knew I could trust. “Tactical package ‘D’ in locker 5389A, Hobby Airport. You might want to get it out of there.”
Before I repocketed my phone, I noticed there was a voicemail flag for my old home phone…I hadn’t had a message there in months. When we got to the counter, Kathrin walked up to the clerk as I dialed and checked my message.
“Scott, it’s Bonbon.”
My heart contracted hard. There was no possibility she had survived.
“It’s just like you to disappear before I have a chance to apologize for being such a turd.”
I could feel my cheeks burning again the way they had after the explosion as I realized I was listening to Bonbon’s last words. Kathrin turned to me, smiling, before her mouth pulled down into a confused frown upon seeing my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Anyway, damn it, I’m sorry. I know what you’re doing is important, and I keep forgetting you’re a grown up. It’s much easier to think of you and Storc as a couple of testosterone-driven schoolboys trying to convince the world you aren’t geeks.”
I wiped my eyes and stared into Kathrin’s, suddenly wanting to disappear inside her protective gaze.
“I’d have rather told you this to your face but you’re so damned sneaky, you got out of here befo—”
The message ended abruptly. I didn’t have to guess why—I had been outside the building when it happened.
“What is it?” she asked again, more gently.
I shook my head and wiped my eyes again before putting my passport on the counter, smiling. “My wife and I would like to go on our honeymoon…do you think you could help us out?”
**
10:30 p.m. local time—BeauLac Estate, in the south of France
The last of the couriers had arrived in the night. Forty-two of the forty-eight ballots had been completed. Six had been returned with a line drawn through them—billionaires unwilling to take sides of any sort. Once they were tallied, a conference call was set up to reveal the results and plan for the next step.
“I just want it to be known I will take no part in the assassination of a member,” Sir Thomas said.
“I understand, Thomas,” Adolphe BeauLac replied. “But the membership has spoken…George Harp is our new chairman. We must make the arrangements.”
“The membership has voted. We have a duty to discharge,” Harp said over the intercom. “And as distasteful as it may seem, it is for the survival of the organization that we must proceed.”
That piqued Sir Thomas’s interest. Direct assessment sounded very uncharacteristic coming from Harp. Harp was usually quiet, passive, bending to the will of the majority of the board. He rarely spoke of decisive action unless it was to parrot what the others were saying.
“How do you propose we proceed?” Thomas asked, plucking at the new Harp to see how much change might have taken place.
“I have taken the liberty of bringing in someone who will aid us in our next steps,” Harp said. “He has intimate knowledge of the Spryte operation and has recently been given a great deal of motivation to aid us in retiring William and Edward.
“I know many of you are concerned about Heinrich’s long relationship with William and Edward,” Harp continued. “But in their recent efforts to clean up, they have decided to sweep him under the rug with many of their mistakes. I can assure you, Heinrich has every motivation to see the will of Combine to fruition.”
“You should have told us, George,” Pieter Loukis protested. “You have exposed us to potential betrayal.”
“I can assure you, nothing could be further from the truth,” Heinrich said over the intercom, startling Sir Thomas. “I have watched for the past several years as William Spryte has spiraled out of control…his actions becoming more and more reckless. My dedication to his family was the only thing that held me at his side for so long. I had no idea that my dedication would be turned against me.”
There was silence on the speaker. Clearly, Thomas wasn’t the only board member caught off guard by Braun’s presence on the call.
“I have no doubt there are questions concerning my allegiances, but rest assured, my role with the Sprytes was as a servant to Combine...and William was merely the arm that wielded my services,” he continued. “It would seem shortsighted of me and the board if my actions on behalf of the organization were not recognized for what they were—execution of the will of Combine.”
“Our next steps, then?” Jonas Schultz asked.
“I propose a change in structure of the board,” George Harp replied. “The executive arm of the organization has proven too much of a burden when tied to the financial aspects. I feel that is one of the reasons William has failed us.”
“What are you getting at?” Collins snapped.
“I would like to ask Philip Collins if he would be interested in taking over the management of our funds and feeding the resources of the organization into the executive accounts,” Harp replied.
Sir Thomas was shocked. The power over the organization’s purse strings was seen as the real power behind the Executive Chair. If Harp delegated that authority to Collins, the power behind the throne would be his. What possible motivation would there be for Harp to cede that much power? he wondered.
“I would be honored to take on that burden,” Collins said, sounding quite the humble soldier.
“Excellent. I will leave it to you and Heinrich to make the necessary arrangements for the closing of the remaining accounts and reorganizing them in a more secure fashion,” Harp said. “I understand we are currently holding approximately one hundred billion in liquid assets, with roughly thirty billion being earmarked for ‘strategic remuneration’. We must make sure there is no interruption of service from our purchased political power.”
“What of the ones who seem to be defecting?” BeauLac asked. “William’s failures seem to have put a dent in their allegiances.”
“That matter is already being taken care of,” Harp said. “Heinrich already has an understanding of the need, and with some minor modifications, William’s plan for damage control will be executed. The difference is the target list has changed to include only those who hold sway over other purchased assets.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are getting at, George,” Sir Thomas said. “Do you mean to say we will assassinate wayward assets? That is precisely what we had hoped to avoid by removing William.”
“I understand,” Harp replied. “That was my hope as well. However, we must stem the flood of defections. The most effective way to do that is to clearly show that dissent will not be tolerated...regardless of one’s position.”
“I feel that is dangerous,” Schultz replied. “William has already exposed us. We should be taking action to shift attention away from ourselves...not draw more.”
“Fortunately for us, William has already made sure we cannot be implicated,” Harp replied. “Any actions taken will reflect on Spryte Industries, Edward and William…not on Combine. Our actions will be quite invisible.”
How easily they were swayed, Thomas thought bitterly. George Harp is another William Spryte…of course they like him.
**
5:15 p.m.—Cayman Brac
STORC looked up and saw Jo’s feet sticking out on the other side of the couch. She had fallen asleep in the living room while watching news updates.
“Jo,” he said softly.
There was no response. He got up and walked over to the TV before switching it off. As soon as he turned, it clicked back on.
He looked down at Jo with pleading in his eyes. “Jo, turn it off.”
“I can’t watch it if it’s off.”
“You are going to drive yourself insane,” he said.
No response.
Storc leaned down and took the remote from her hand before turning it off again. She didn’t even bother looking at him. She just climbed down out of her nest on the couch, crawled to the TV on all fours, and then turned it on manually before plopping down on the floor in front of it.
He sat down and wrapped his arms around her from behind without saying a word. She rested her head on his arm and began crying again. He squeezed her more tightly, silently holding her for a long while.
“What are you looking for?” he asked softly into her ear.
She tipped her head back on his shoulder and breathed out, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Someone who made it.”
He kissed the top of her head and held her, not knowing how to tell her to stop when it was the same thing he was hoping for.
“Help me,” he whispered after several minutes.
“I’m no hacker.”
“You see things I don’t,” he replied. “You’re like Scott. You can see patterns that others can’t see. Let’s find these bastards and hit ’em where it hurts.”
She stayed motionless for several seconds then pushed herself up from the floor.
“Show me the new data,” she replied.
Storc smiled and led her back to the computers. He disconnected one of the laptops from its power supply and spun it around for her to look at.
“This is everything up to ten minutes ago,” Storc said.
She took the computer and returned to the couch, scrolling through the transactions that had been traced so far. Storc returned to monitoring the account flow from his servers back in Falls Church.
On the TV, they listened to a panel of “experts” talking about the bomber.
“I think we need to be careful placing blame on anyone other than the bombers here,” said a woman on the screen. “After all, you can’t deny the fact that a Middle Eastern Muslim has been confirmed as the bomber—a man who the US took in and provided opportunity to. And this is how he repaid the freedom we offered him. I wouldn’t be surprised if the family was on welfare too—it breeds contempt.”
She was shouted down by other members of the panel, pointing out the factual and logical mistakes in her argument.
“If you watch TV for five minutes, you can identify a person’s political alignment and the depth of their financial stake in their arguments,” Storc said. “The more ridiculous and inflammatory, the larger the compensation.”
“Yeah,” Jo replied without looking up from her computer screen. “That’s what Mark mapped out as well. The on-air mentions alone showed the path the money took.”
Suddenly her head snapped upright and she closed her eyes tightly.
“Got something?” Storc asked.
“Shhh,” she said and then, after a moment, she turned to Storc. “I’m only seeing cash deposits here in the Caymans, other than the European money that’s been diverted.”
“Yeah. That’s what I saw as well...but I can’t find a single record with a name or a signature card,” he replied. “Everything is numbered.”
“Do you have access to bank video through your hack on Alisha’s program?”
“Not currently. But it would be easy enough to set up,” he replied. “How does that help us if we don’t have a reference, though? No name, no ID, no photo...”
“We have timestamps on the transactions,” she replied as a slim smile began to form on her face.
Storc paused and thought about that for a split second before his eyes opened wide. “See! I told you. There’s a reason Scott put you in charge!”
He immediately began altering his Trojan code to access the video security systems in the banks on Grand Cayman. In a matter of minutes, he had the first system available for search.
“Okay. I’ve got Banco BPT online,” he said. “Stream me the timestamps and I’ll do an indexed match.”
Jo sent the data, and Storc began constructing the search matrix. His script captured one minute intervals surrounding the deposits. The script ran for several minutes, extracting the footage and linking them to the transaction timestamps. When he had roughly one hundred entries, he began scanning them to try and identify the depositor. Jo walked around behind him to aid in the search.
“There!” she said. “He’s in two of the images.”
“Yeah. But he’s not in these,” he replied.
“What about her?” she offered. “She’s in these four.”
“But not in the others,” he said.
He pulled up twenty stills and began comparing them. “I don’t see anyone who is in ALL of the shots,” he said.
“But...” Jo said, moving her hand to Storc’s mouse, briefly touching his hand before he relinquished it to her.
She proceeded to arrange the images into three separate groups. All of the groups contained the image of one of three individuals. She pulled up more from the capture file and began sorting them as well. In every video capture, one of the three was in the shot. She sorted through all one hundred images that Storc had downloaded and all of them followed the same pattern.
“One of these three people show up in every instance of a cash deposit.”
Storc nodded. He began pulling images from other bank systems.
“See…all the banks are the same,” Jo said. “These three people have been doing all the physical deposits.
“We should send Mark to follow them,” he said.
She smiled. “Not yet,” she said. “First, you need to run every single second of footage from all the banks through the facial-match software.”
“Why?” he asked. “We see who they are, right now.”
“Yes. But those are only the cash deposits from the transaction numbers we have. But now that we have their facial patterns, we can get timestamps and account numbers for every transaction they’ve made…we aren’t limited by our account lists anymore,” she said, smiling widely. “We can have them all!”
“Genius!” he exclaimed. “I’m in the presence of genius!” He grabbed her by her shoulders and kissed her on the lips.
