The End Game

He was right.

“Will you make the call?”

She heard typing.

“Done. I’ve sent word. As soon as I hear something, I’ll let you know.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. Doesn’t matter. What I have in mind he can do from anywhere.”

“Will you be able to sleep now?”

He laughed. “Yes, I do believe I will. Sweet dreams to you, Agent Caine. Thanks for the ear, and the agreement.”

Fancy that, Nicholas had acted like a real partner, called her to get her opinion before acting. She smiled as she climbed into bed. Sweet dreams? You bet. But short ones, given it was four something o’clock in the morning.

23

QUEEN TO A3

Chicago

Adam Pearce was staring at the brightly lit Chicago skyline when his phone beeped that an encrypted e-mail had arrived. It wasn’t his personal phone, but the special cell the FBI had provided.

It was the middle of the night. Why had they chosen now to make contact? He hadn’t heard from them in weeks, not since he’d been placed in this apartment and told to lie low. He was bored. He needed to work, to stretch his brain, to do something.

The e-mail was simple.

We have a job for you. Call in.

At last! His brain lit up like Christmas, his blood roared. Even though Adam still chafed at the idea of working for the government, it was better than rotting in a federal prison or being extradited to one of the many countries he’d worked against. His call sign was no longer Eternal Patrol. Now his call sign was Dark Leaf. He’d spent the last few weeks skimming around the darknet, spying on his brethren. Carefully. If the rest of the hacker world knew he was working for the government, there’d be a contract on him by morning. There were still a lot of very powerful people in the world who would like to bury him deep.

He built in a second layer of encryption so his voice would be garbled to anyone who might be listening in and dialed the number. Paranoia had always been his watchword.

Nicholas Drummond answered the call, said immediately in his posh British accent, “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

Nicholas laughed. “Ever the hacker, keeping night hours. I don’t sleep much myself. How are things? You’ve been comfortably relocated, I trust?”

“Yeah, yeah, things are fine, but Nicholas, I’m so bored I’m tempted to hack Director Comey’s computer and tell him to give me something to do. Please tell me that’s why you called.”

“It is, my friend. You’re aware of a group called COE?”

“Celebrants of Earth? Of course. Dorky name. They’ve been doing bad things, making you guys look like monkeys. Wow, I guess I’m now looking like a monkey, too, since I’m officially one of you. Are they behind the attack on the oil companies tonight?”

“You’ve heard about it?”

“Sure. The whole Net is buzzing. A Shamoon attack, was it?”

“No comment. Have you ever come across Gunther Ansell?”

Adam whistled. “The Blue Whale? Sure, everyone has. He does superior work, for an old guy. He’s what, thirty?”

“Yes, nearly ready for the glue factory. Adam, he’s dead, murdered.”

There was a long moment of dead silence, then, “All right, you’d better tell me all about it.”

Nicholas did. “I’ve got a request in for everything he was working on, maybe something’s there to nail COE. But I really don’t need it, I know COE. And I know they’ll need someone new to keep up the cyber-attacks.” He paused, waited. “Adam, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m trying to get my brain around this. Gunther, gone, it’s crazy, dude. So, Nicholas, you want me to offer my services to COE?”

“You’ll need to show them you’re better than their people, ah, and that you share their values and goals, which, at this moment, we’re no longer sure we know. They’d been so focused, and now they’ve switched gears, and I’m simply not sure if their fanatical hate is at the core of it now.”

“I do share some of their values, Nicholas.”

“Yes, I assume they hate the government, too, which makes you perfect for the job. Get in, Adam, and do it quickly. We need to stop them before more people are killed. We didn’t know until tonight with the cyber-attacks on the oil companies that they even had a hacker on board.”

“You said Gunther was killed three days ago. That means they’ve got to have someone already on the inside with enough smarts and know-how to implement his plan. I assume Gunther was killed because someone was afraid he’d talk?”

“Probably. Adam, you’re fresh and clean in cyberspace now. We’ve helped you establish a whole new identity. You can get into their organization from afar.”

There was a moment of silence, then Adam said, his voice formal, “I owe you my life, Agent Drummond. I’ll report in when I have news.”

Nicholas said, “Good, we all appreciate it. You know I can’t do it, I’d be outed immediately, and besides, I simply couldn’t give it enough time at this point. Adam, be sure to cover your tracks at every turn. Create a false trail, leave as much disruption behind as you can, and bread crumbs galore, so when we’re done, we can blow them out of the water. I’ve been working a backstop to verify the information—they will come searching for your credentials, and I promise you they will be watertight. And Adam? Hurry. We’re ru

“I hear you. I’ll be in touch.”

Adam hung up the phone and the e-mail dinged again—the legend Drummond created for him had arrived. It was distinctly criminal, with a number of outstanding hacks to the identity’s credit. Adam memorized everything, then started sending out feelers to COE. With luck, he’d find a way in tonight. A pity Nicholas couldn’t join him; it would be fun, the two of them fighting it out with the bad guys in cyberspace.

He quickly saw that every hacker with a keyboard was out and about, speculating about how COE had gotten past the oil companies’ firewalls. Adam didn’t see Gunther’s name once, which meant Drummond had been inside the hack himself, looking for the golden thread, shutting down any ties to the Blue Whale. He was impressed; Nicholas was nearly as good a hacker as he was. Well, perhaps he was better, since he was nearly old enough for Social Security himself, at least as old as Gunther had been. Adam would miss Gunther, a great talent, but he’d been sloppy and Nicholas had caught his signature.

Adam began whistling, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Tuesday

7 a.m.–2 p.m.

24

KNIGHT TAKES C3

Atlantic City, New Jersey

Zahir Damari—known to Matthew and his little group of ideologues, fanatics, and crazies as Darius, only Darius—drove his stolen Jeep into Atlantic City before sunrise. The ramshackle abandoned hotel where he was to meet his contact was two blocks off the main drag. There were no lights and the building was falling down. He heard rats scurrying around when his flashlight hit them.

Atlantic City was dying, and soon this whole country would collapse under greed and endless bureaucracy and people so contentious and self-interested that anything needful would never get done, no movement at all until it was too late.

It was too late now, far too late. He should know, since it was his job to give it a big push, and when he and Matthew finished, the U.S. would buckle and collapse under the pressure.