Chapter 59
At thirty minutes before midnight I entered the TOC, finding Brett staring at two laptops connected by an umbilical cord.
I said, “Anything new?”
“Yeah. Creed’s found an encrypted sack buried on the hard drive, but he still hasn’t cracked it.”
“Well, that’s better than we had before. At least it proves he’s got something to hide. Any word from Veep?”
“Yeah. He’s left the pilots and they’re working their end. He should be back any minute.”
I’d called a meeting at 9 p.m., giving Creed six hours with both the phone we’d found on the body in the park and the computer
we’d taken from the hotel room, but when the meeting time had arrived, Creed was still working on the computer. He’d told
us that the phone’s SIM was relatively new, had been purchased in Argentina, and only had four numbers in it from previous
contacts. Unfortunately, while all four numbers were active, every one of them were unresponsive from the cell network, which
meant one of two things: either the phones were turned off, or these guys were switching SIM cards like candy.
I was betting on the latter, but even so, I’d decided to get the Rock Star Bird into play.
It had a much more powerful version of the Growler built into its fuselage, one that could range a hell of a lot more than a city block.
With its altitude, it could find those phones in a larger footprint of the city, and it also had a pass-through feature, meaning while it could lock the phones, it would also allow them to connect to a real cell tower so coverage wouldn’t be interrupted and possibly spook the target—or worse, create a thousand angry calls to the cell providers, causing them to investigate the outages.
After the meeting, I’d given Veep the task of coordinating with the pilots. They’d file a flight plan for maintenance checks
in the Buenos Aires airspace, and he’d work the system so we could be up and running tomorrow morning.
I looked at the computer over Brett’s shoulder, it in turn plugged in to our own laptop and connected to the Taskforce Network
Operations Center, the screen running a bunch of script like we were in the Matrix. I said, “What’s the encrypted sack tell
us?”
Brett said, “Well, number one, like you said, it tells us the guy isn’t some oilman from Qatar, because he’s trying mighty
hard to hide something, and I’ll bet it’s not a secret porn stash. Number two, given the encryption trouble Creed’s having,
it’s a state system. I’m betting an Iranian Quds Force guy owns this thing.”
A third laptop was connected to an encrypted VPN, showing the Taskforce situation room, currently empty, which wasn’t surprising,
given the time.
Brett saw me glance at it and said, “Believe it or not, the boss is still in the office.”
“At this hour? What for?”
“According to Creed they haven’t made any headway on the suspected Quds Force guy running around in the US. They’re starting
to shit bricks, which may be why our stuff is taking a little longer than expected. He’s got all the horsepower split between
the two targets.”
Shit. “I told him I’d send you and Knuckles up there to help, but he wasn’t having any of that.”
I caught a change on the computer connected to the NOC and focused on it. The matrix screen cleared, and I saw what looked
like a bunch of Arabic text. The laptop with the VPN showed movement, and I recognized Creed’s bulbous head with his thick-framed
glasses, a huge smile on his face.
I said, “I guess that means you cracked the encryption.”
Practically giddy, Creed said, “I sure did, and I found a Signal account on it. Unfortunately, he had the account set to auto
delete, so we only got one chat. It’s the last one he sent, to a person in the United States two days ago. That’s the one
on the screen.”
I said, “Creed, I can’t read Arabic.”
His face clouded, then he said, “Oh, wait. Sorry. It’s not Arabic. It’s Farsi. Translation coming up.”
The screen split in half, with the Farsi on the left and the translation on the right.
I leaned in, having to scroll to read it all.
Sender: How was your entry? Any problems?
Receiver: No. Came in through the ratline that we used with the Ghost. Made it to Tucson and got a rental with the Qatar documents.
You?
Sender: We’ve had some issues. Someone is tracking us through our credit card account we used for infrastructure. We had to shift
hotels. The police investigated but missed us. The Ghost recommends you switch cards as well, if you’re using any tied to
Cyrus.
Receiver: Who was it? How did they find the card?
Sender: We don’t know, but we think the operation is secure. Someone knows we’re here, but doesn’t know anything other than that.
They’re looking for us but have no idea where to search.
Receiver: If it was the Argentinian police, then it must be from a liaison service. Either Isreal or America. Watch your steps. Remember
what Israel did to us in Lebanon and Iran. They have eyes everywhere.
Sender: We will, we will. How about your mission?
Receiver: I’m stopping in Nashville tonight. I’ll talk to Nomad when I get there. God willing, I’ll meet them in Washington the day
after.
Sender: Did Nomad manage to get the truck?
Receiver: Yes. They have the truck. I still need to convince them to continue.
Sender: I said from the beginning we needed help there like we’re using here. We should have brought our own expertise.
Receiver: It won’t be a problem. Americans are greedy. They’ll kill their own people easily if there is enough money in it. They freed
the Ghost after all.
I stopped there, realizing that the men—the Americans—helping Iran were the same ones who had murdered Sherrif Bob Marley.
The realization sent a spike of rage deep inside. I forced the feelings aside and continued reading.
Sender: Agreed. What about the final mission? Did the material get infiltrated?
Receiver: I don’t know yet. I’ll find out tonight, but I know the Pasdaran took control of part of it. It will depend on their routes
and contacts that remain in Syria to get it into Jordan and then into Palestine.
Sender: That one won’t be initiated without the order from the command, correct? They won’t go early, will they? They will wait on
us to initiate?
Receiver: Correct. Why?
Sender: The Ghost was asking me about it. He is more than curious about that mission. He did not like it when you said his “people” would be the ultimate “martyrs.” He may become a liability after our mission is complete, and most certainly will if it happens before.
Receiver: You didn’t tell him anything, did you? No locations or targets?
Sender: Of course not. All he knows is what you told him, but it made him concerned. He is a hired gun and cares more about his people
than he does ours.
Receiver: Keep him in control. Execute the mission, then eliminate him.
Sender: God willing, it will be done. I’ll contact you when we’re complete.
I finished scrolling through the text, the words on the screen incredible. It wasn’t one or two attacks, it was three, spread
out over three continents.