Exit Node : A psychological thriller (Darknet series Book 3), page 7
Old habits died hard. Jonathan took the roll of narrow black tape from his bag, and using the torch on his phone, adjusted the letters in the numberplates, front and back. C became O, and I became F. They wouldn’t pass a detailed scrutiny, but if the police were actively looking for this car, he might fly under the radar a little longer. They needed a change of rental car in the morning, but he had a plan for that.
Half an hour later, they strolled into the Crowne Plaza Hotel. The car had been left in the airport short-stay carpark, and they’d caught the free airport shuttle to the hotel—as though they’d just stepped off their flight.
They checked in using bogus names, and at Jonathan’s instruction, had a lively debate at the Reception desk about whether or not it was too late to go into the city for dinner, before heading upstairs to their rooms.
They convened in Jonathan’s room. “That discussion we just had downstairs with the receptionist?” said Emma. “Why did we do that? They might remember us.”
“Exactly. They will—but for the wrong reasons. We hide best in plain sight.”
Caleb nodded. “Makes sense. This place is teeming with business people.” He looked at Emma. “Like when we went into hiding last year. We rode a motorbike and hung out with bikers. We made ourselves invisible, and that’s what we did downstairs.”
“I guess.” She didn’t sound convinced. “So what happens next? You have a plan, Jonathan?”
Okay, this was a start. Emma was looking to him for leadership, instead of automatically turning to Caleb. Jonathan nodded. “Yep. Let’s start with ordering some food. Then we’ll compare notes and see what we know.”
“How does it feel to be a fugitive?” Caleb asked with a cocky grin. “Welcome to the club.”
“Funny. Splitting my sides, here.” Jonathan was silently freaking out. The situation was usually the other way around, with him issuing warrants for detention and searching for criminals. “The hunter becomes the hunted,” he murmured. “Between us, we have enough skills to evade the authorities. Agreed?”
“It’s a minor point,” said Caleb, “but you’re the one in the spotlight. Not Em, and for once, not me. If the shit hits the fan, my priority is to get Emma home safely.”
“Whoa.” She stood, her face flushing. “I’m right here, y’know. This isn’t a game of pass the parcel. I came here to find Mark, and that’s what I intend to do.”
Jonathan agreed with Caleb, but he kept that to himself. “Come on, guys. Chill. We’ll feel more together after dinner and a good night’s sleep. In the morning, we’re gonna take an early shuttle to the airport, maintaining the story that we have a flight to catch. When we get there, we’ll pick up another rental under one of the fake IDs. That should give us some breathing space and a chance to move location freely.”
“We could also book seats on a London flight, using our real names,” said Emma. “We don’t have to use the bookings, but it might send the police in the wrong direction. Domestic flights in Britain are pretty cheap.”
“Good idea,” said Jonathan. Why didn’t he think of that? His focus was shattered—that was why.
While Caleb phoned down for some food and Emma freshened up in the bathroom, Jonathan fired up his laptop and started making notes. He wanted to get his thoughts in order.
They ate surprisingly good burgers and fries, washed down with bottles of alcohol-free beer. Jonathan wanted to avoid anything that might make them sluggish. In case their cover was blown, for instance, and they had to leave in a hurry.
When the food was gone and they’d moved onto a large pot of coffee, Jonathan opened up his laptop. “We start at the beginning,” he said. “We know Mark was an undercover agent for IG-6, initially tasked with acquiring Caleb for his hacking skills, and had approval to use SIA resources, which is where I came in. My role was to be Mark’s liaison. Then, when the UK was targeted in the GoldRush cyber-attack and Caleb helped them safeguard their systems and data, SIA were able to facilitate his parole, on the understanding that he worked for us. At that time, Mark was also arranging a secondment to SIA, with the intention of migrating permanently to EnZed. Correct so far?”
The others nodded. Jonathan continued. “Mark said he had some handover to complete with IG-6, which could take a couple of weeks. But then he told you something different, Caleb?”
“Yeah. He was worried he was going to become the scapegoat for the GoldRush attack. He also thought it had originated from within IG-6, rather than from Russia, which was the official verdict. He left me with his planned schedule and details for whom he described as his trusted contact—a guy called Aiden Bradley. Mark also told me he carried one of those prototype tracking pills and explained how to monitor it, if it activates. There’s an alert set up on my phone for that, by the way. I’ve diverted it to the burner. If it activates, it’ll send a ping every half an hour for up to three days. Mark checked in twice. On the second call, he said he might have to stay longer and asked me to look after Emma.”
“Then he called me, to break up with me,” said Emma. “And there’s been no contact with him since.”
“I tried phoning Aiden,” said Caleb, “but he isn’t taking my calls and hasn’t responded to my voicemails. Probably because he’s in hospital. We’ve no idea if Mark talked to Aiden, or what—if anything—the guy knows.”
Jonathan rapidly typed as the others spoke, capturing the details and creating a timeline. “Okay. Next, Emma left for the UK, and that was when I took a call from my director, telling me that Mark had died. How long after he left EnZed was this? It can’t have been long.”
“I can tell you when he left,” said Emma. “Mark flew out on Wednesday the third of April. A week ago.”
“The last time he checked in with me was that Friday night,” said Caleb.
“And he broke up with me on Saturday morning,” Emma continued. “As you know, I flew out on Sunday night, EnZed time.”
“It’s Wednesday morning in EnZed now,” said Jonathan. “Andi’s message would have been early in the morning for her, right? And while I remember, is there anything more from her yet?”
“No update yet,” said Caleb, frowning. “With the time difference, it would have been around five for Andi, so either an early start, or a late night which she’s currently sleeping off.”
Jonathan sat back and stared at his screen. “I’ve added the report of Morgen’s death and our movements since we got here. Let’s figure out the unknowns. The questions we need answers for.” Pretty much everything sprang to mind, but he needed to break it down into bite-sized pieces. “Emma, do you want to start?”
“If Caleb’s network has been compromised”—she spoke slowly, a frown creasing her forehead—“how confident are we that your laptop is clean? Caleb’s too?”
“I like the way your mind works. Sure you don’t want to come work for the SIA?” Jonathan was trying to make her smile, and it worked.
“Not a chance. But thank you.”
He nodded. “As far as I can tell, mine is clean.”
“This is my personal laptop,” said Caleb. “Squeaky clean. There are some extra routines I can show you, Jonathan, if you want another layer of protection.”
“Thanks. Show me later. Another question, Emma?”
She blew out a ragged breath. “Why go to these lengths, to pretend Mark is dead? Is it just to keep us away, so that we’ll give up on him and go home? It seems elaborate, don’t you think? Or is this how spies always work?”
“Not in my experience. Mark must have been onto something big.”
“But what’s that got to do with Caleb’s network going down or your being set up for that guy’s death?”
“I know I’m as paranoid as they come,” said Caleb, “but while these events don’t seem to be related on the surface, the timing is dodgy as fuck. Do you see what the common factor is?”
Jonathan wanted to scoff, but he forced himself to consider Caleb’s suggestion. “You wrote the original code that was used in the GoldRush attack—the same cyber-attack we think Mark is being framed for. Morgen was in custody for his part in framing you for the attack on Nicole Golden. And the Red Team are working under your direction.”
Caleb folded his arms and winced. His ribs had to be aching badly by now. Had he taken any painkillers recently?
“But why are they trying to arrest Jonathan?” asked Emma. “Whoever they are.”
The answer was obvious. “They’re using me to get to Caleb.”
“If we’re right,” said Caleb, “should we split up? Divide and conquer?”
Jonathan thought about it. “Tempting, but until we know who we’re up against, I think our combined skills are better than our going solo. We’ve still more questions than answers.” He took a slug of coffee. It was cold. He didn’t want to break off from this train of thought, to make more. They were close to something; he felt it in his guts, and he was a big believer in instinct. “IG-6 are driving at least part of this. They’ve got the power to make it look as though Mark is dead, but if you’re right, and they want you as well, Caleb, why not just take you at the airport on the way home? Why go to the lengths of framing me for Morgen’s death? We’re missing something.”
“Lots of somethings,” said Emma. She curled herself onto the sofa and hugged a cushion to her chest. “It feels like we’re going around in circles.” She gazed at Caleb, currently hunched in his chair, eyes half-closed. “You’re thinking this is about Ekho, aren’t you?”
Caleb had mentioned that once before. Jonathan dug through his memories but came up blank. “Ekho?”
“It’s a tool I wrote—the one the Russians wanted.”
“And?”
“It works by leaving a hidden breadcrumb trail. Used correctly, it removes the concept of anonymity from dark-web transactions.”
Whoa. Jonathan was already in awe of Caleb’s master hacking skills, but this sounded genius. “Does it work?”
Caleb smirked. “Of course.”
“And the Russians know about this, which is why they wanted you.” Jonathan spoke his thoughts aloud. He paused, a surge of ideas jostling for position. “If GoldRush was actually engineered from inside IG-6, then it’s possible someone within IG-6 knows about Ekho?”
“Sure. Every fucker wants it. I still don’t know who spied on my house and killed my sister, but they were looking for Ekho.”
“How much does Mark know about it?” Jonathan asked.
Emma sat up straight and glared at him. “He knows as much as you do. If this was another attempt to get at Caleb for Ekho, there are hundreds of easier ways.”
“I’m not suggesting Mark’s behind this.” The thought had crossed Jonathan’s mind, briefly, but a story this complex smacked of more than the acquisition of a single piece of software, no matter how good it was. “Look, we’re all tired. Let’s call it a day and hope that Andi’s made contact by morning. We leave at six, remember. It has to look as though we’re catching the early shuttle to Heathrow.”
“How are we settling the bill?” Caleb asked. “Obviously not with our credit cards?”
“I’ve a valid card for my current ID. I’ve already paid for all three rooms.” He had valid cards for each of the fake IDs in his bag, each with several layers of identity to slow down any attempts at tracing. “Get some sleep, folks. Meet me here just before six tomorrow.”
Caleb and Emma said their goodnights, and then left.
Sleep sounded like a great idea in theory, but the reality was a million miles away. Jonathan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. His brain was wide awake, his logic processes churning through the options. At one time, he could sleep anywhere. During his training with MI5, he learned the skill of taking combat naps, but that was a few years ago.
Was he really being framed, for killing Erich Morgen? That was tenuous. Someone slipped Morgen some N-BOMBe. Unless he already had it on his person? Jonathan didn’t know much about that particular drug. While he was awake anyway, he might as well put the time to use and do some digging. He sat up in bed, laptop on his knees, and established an anonymous connection to the internet.
An hour later, when his eyes were itching from tiredness, he sat back and reviewed his notes—all drawn from publicly available sources.
N-BOMBe—a synthetic LSD.
Street names: N-Bomb / Smiles / Dime / New Nexus / Solaris.
Real name: 25B-NBOMe or 25I-NBOMe.
First seen in NZ in 2012. Usually manufactured in China / India and brought into the country. Sold on the DarkWeb and not technically illegal. It’s an unapproved substance under the Psychoactive Substances Act, but isn’t a class A, B or C substance like other drugs. This means the penalties for possession are relatively minor.
Most often sold on tiny pieces of blotting paper. Users place the paper under their tongue and absorb the drug. N-BOMBe hits more slowly than other hallucinogens, and confused users will often take another tab / blotter, which pushes them into overdose.
Can be concealed under postage stamps and the practice is rife in Rimutaka Prison.
Also sold in pills. Any amount over half a milligram is potentially lethal.
There were rumours of one main retailer in the country. Was that a possibility? A side issue was that the NZ drug market was currently being flooded with meth. This suggested the authorities were focusing on the meth issue rather than N-BOMBe.
Caleb served his sentence in Rimutaka Prison. Would he have any extra information on it?
Wednesday 10 April (UK-time)
Chapter Nine
Jonathan slept badly, with disjointed stress-filled dreams that ended with him behind bars, while an unseen man told him he deserved it. Jonathan might have had the chance to prevent the Christchurch massacre, said the voice, so why didn’t he?
Morning came too soon, and it took Jonathan a longer than usual cool shower to wake up properly. The dream played on his mind, and he had to force himself to think about something else. This was no time to stress about previous ops. He wasn’t going down that rabbit hole today.
His burner pinged with a message while he was getting dried.
Caleb: Andi is online in the chat room. You free now?
Jonathan called him back. “I’m getting dressed. Gimme a couple of minutes? Do you know if Emma is up yet?”
“Yeah, she talked to me. We’ll come to your room in five.”
Jonathan was in dire need of caffeine, so he set a plunger jug brewing. When Caleb knocked on his door shortly after, with Emma at his side, Jonathan was ready with three mugs of steaming black coffee, and they settled into seats.
Emma had shadows under her eyes and tired lines cutting across her forehead.
Caleb didn’t look much better. He took a swig of his drink and opened his laptop onto the coffee table. “Andi’s in the private chat room we use. We can speak openly—and before you ask, I’ve already verified her identity. What should we ask her first?”
“What she meant about the Red Team being compromised,” said Jonathan, “and if she knows why your network is offline.” He moved to stand behind Caleb, so he could see the conversation on screen.
Caleb nodded and typed. Her reply was fast.
Sonic: Red Team network is infected with a new banking trojan – JackBot. It looks as though it’s come in from the SIA link, poss. piggybacking on a legit email. JackBot doesn’t just steal financial credentials, it also monitors email and messaging systems. We’ve taken the network down while we purge it. I told the team we’d route all comms to you through this channel until we’re clean.
“What’s a banking trojan?” Emma asked.
“Malware,” said Caleb. “Originally used to steal personal banking logins and passwords, but way more sophisticated now. I’ve not come across JackBot.” He typed his reply as he spoke.
Captain Mal: Thanks. We’re flying under the radar here, with phones offline. If you get any updates, post them in here. Can you track who in SIA it came from?
Sonic: Working on it. BTW we asked for a 3-day pause on the exercise while we clean house. You might be back from the funeral before we resume. Hope things are going ok.
Of course. The Red Team had no idea about the deepening mystery surrounding Mark’s whereabouts.
“Should we tell her?” Emma asked the question Jonathan was thinking.
Could they trust Andi? Caleb seemed to. Jonathan could count on one hand how many people he implicitly trusted. “Wait. Let’s stop the server purge,” he said. “How about we give whoever is monitoring our comms a few false leads to follow?”
“Nice one,” said Caleb. “Let’s send them running in the wrong direction.”
“I’m not happy about the idea of a mole in the SIA, but if there is one, we might be able to flush them out. Tell Andi what’s going on.”
Caleb explained the bare bones of the story to Andi and asked her to send emails to himself, Jonathan, and Emma, confirming flight details from Heathrow to Auckland due to leave tomorrow. That might buy them some time, if this message was relayed to the UK authorities.
That done, they prepared to go.
Jonathan’s bag was packed, and he hustled Caleb and Emma into leaving early. They caught the shuttle bus to Manchester Airport—maintaining the fiction of catching a domestic flight—and then walked briskly through the terminals to the Hertz rental-car office. There, he rented an anonymous four-door car, and they climbed in.
Since leaving the hotel, they’d said nothing apart from neutral comments on the weather and the level of amenities in the hotel. Just like any other business traveller.
Now they could speak freely again.
“Where are we going?” Emma asked. “I’m guessing you have a plan—you always have a plan—but would you care to share it with us?”
Nope. No plan, but Jonathan wasn’t going to admit it. He adjusted the mirrors, glanced at the map on the SatNav, and started the engine. “We’ll head into Manchester City Centre and find a multi-storey carpark, and then we’re going to get some breakfast. On the off chance anyone is watching us, we’ll be harder to track in the rush-hour traffic.”
