Читать книгу Decision Point - Don Pendleton - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

In spite of his first-class accommodations, the red-eye flight from Singapore to Washington, D.C., hadn’t been very restful. But Kabilan Vengai was used to going without sleep. He’d been running nonstop for almost a year and rarely slept more than a few hours a day. Many men would be exhausted under such a strain, and it would show in everything about them: their appearance, mental state and the decisions they made would be compromised by the constant drain. Kabilan, however, thrived on his role, and if someone were to compare him to a vampire that feeds on power, he wouldn’t have been deeply offended.

Standing in a small ballroom in the Ritz-Carlton, he looked up at the ornate ceilings and took a deep breath. Part of him wished that his army was nearby so that he could order the hotel ransacked, hostages taken for ransom, and then allow his men hot showers and a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. The other part of him knew that such luxuries weakened men like those who served him—they were field men, one and all, and while they might enjoy the sleep, it would only distract them from their true purpose. He slugged down the last swallow of the watery cocktail he was holding and shook his head. This wasn’t where he wanted to be at the moment.

But the ostentatious reception for the Tamil People’s Action Committee meant to raise funds for his people was necessary. It was another tool—a sometimes laughable, often degrading one—but a tool nonetheless. Kabilan knew that perception mattered a great deal in the world, and if he was going to restore the rightful sovereignty of the Tamil people, he had to play on this stage equally as well as he did when he was leading his men to successful raids on the ocean. He put his empty glass on the bar and ordered another, then turned his attention to the room.

Most of the people here were displaced Tamils who had come to the United States and made enough money to support the cause of their people back in Sri Lanka, India and other parts of Indonesia. A handful were businessmen with interests in that part of the world—a couple of whom were more than willing to overlook the defeat of the Tamil Tigers and continue to use them to work around the Sri Lankan government whenever possible. He would walk through the room, shake hands, nod in understanding at their sincere concern at the plight of his people. He would watch as they opened their checkbooks and tried to solve problems with money. In turn, he would present those checks to the executive director of TPAC, then take the money for himself, buy the weapons and equipment he needed, and so, in a sense, solve problems with money. He hated the deception, and it was a far greater crime than any piracy he sanctioned. It was also necessary.

Still, the money raised here was simply a cover for his true purpose, and Kabilan scanned the room once more. While holding the hat here and conducting good raids on the seas had proven lucrative, neither was cost-effective or fast enough for his long-term goals. Though his recent capture of President Daniels’s daughter had been unanticipated, and he held few doubts that the man would pay her ransom as soon as he realized that her death would be the only thing he could accomplish by not paying. If they didn’t pay, her death would serve their cause just as well. Killing such a high-profile hostage would be a show of power unlike any other and show the world that they weren’t to be trifled with. But money wasn’t everything and while it could buy many things—weapons, especially—what he truly needed was something that would level the playing field.

This night he was going to take delivery of that weapon. The Ocean Tigers, who had once been known as the KP Branch of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, were one of the few remaining hopes for the Tamil revolution. When Kumaran Pathmanathan had disappeared at the hands of the Sri Lankan Secret Police, it had been left to him to find a way to continue.

Vengai had immediately moved his forces into a new area and modified the immediate mission to piracy on the high seas. Much of the work his men had done was blamed on other groups, and the ransoms paid were an excellent way to raise funds. They simply weren’t enough, the Daniels girl notwithstanding. Using contacts he developed in the technology field, he’d groomed a new contact over the past year and the moment of delivery had finally arrived.

Unfortunately his contact had yet to put in an appearance.

He moved away from the bar and began making his way across the room. He paused from time to time to talk with someone or to answer a question. About halfway, he felt a light touch on his arm and looked down to see the executive director of TPAC, a dark-haired woman in her early thirties, hired for her lobbying skills, staring at him. She was Tamil, but only in the most remote sense. Her grandparents had been from there, but she had no real idea what being from Tamil meant.

“Mr. Vengai?” she asked. “A moment of your time, please.”

Seeing that she had someone in tow, he softened his gaze and allowed a faint smile to pass across his features. “Of course, Ms. Nilani. What can I help you with?”

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she said. “This is Mr. Borelli. He’s quite interested in our cause, and wanted to be introduced.”

“Ah, Mr. Borelli,” Vengai said, offering his hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Borelli was a stout figure, almost portly, with thinning hair and an off-the-rack suit that fit improperly. His hands were soft. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Vengai. I’ve been looking forward to this since USTPAC announced you’d be in attendance. How goes the battle?”

“Not as well as we would like,” he said, “but it’s not over—what is the saying?—until the fat lady sings.”

“Well put,” Borelli said. “Well put, indeed.”

The man affected a near-British accent, but he obviously was American. “So, Ms. Nilani says you have an interest in our cause?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’ve read about the situation quite extensively as part of my job, and I must say, it seems that the Tamil people have been very shabbily treated.”

“I see,” Vengai said. “And what do you do, Mr. Borelli?”

Borelli smiled then, and for a split second, a very different person was standing in front of him. “I work as an analyst, Mr. Vengai. In Langley.”

So, he was CIA. Interesting that he’d be so direct in his approach. “How goes the battle for you, then?” he asked.

The man laughed. “Don’t misunderstand, sir. I’m not here in any official capacity! I’m just an analyst. I don’t make all that much, but I’d like to contribute—provided that my contribution is completely anonymous.”

“That can be easily arranged,” he said. “Simply make your contribution with cash.”

“And should that go to you or to Ms. Nilani?” he asked quickly.

Damn the man. He knew that TPAC was a front. If he told him to give the money directly to TPAC, she’d have to deposit the funds in the main account; if he said to give it to him, she’d have a lot of questions. “Ms. Nilani can handle that for you,” he said with barely concealed ire. He wondered if Borelli were playing some kind of game, for his own amusement, or for more serious purposes.

“Very good, then,” Borelli said. “I’ll bring it by the office on Monday.” He offered his hand once more. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Vengai. Thank you.”

Vengai nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Borelli. Drive safely tonight.”

Recognizing the vague threat, Borelli grinned once more. “And when you return home, you do the same. Travel safely, that is.” Then he turned and walked into the crowd.

Ms. Nilani, who’d been silent the entire time, shook her head. “That was strange,” she said. “I’m not sure I understand what he was doing here.”

“Neither do I, Ms. Nilani, but I expect that you could find out. Why don’t you make a phone call and see what you can learn about Mr. Borelli?”

“Right now?” she asked. “In the middle of the fundraiser?”

At that moment Vengai saw his contact come into the room and linger near the kitchen doors. “No, but make no mistake, people like him come to events like this for two reasons—one, he wants to upgrade his contacts and has something he wants to sell, or two, he’s here to tell us that he’s watching. I have a feeling that it was the latter,” he said, waving her off. “But I want that information by Monday at the latest.”

“Of course,” she said, then turned and resumed her role in working the room. Briefly, he watched her go. She was good at her job, but not a very observant person. On the other hand, a person who did what he or she was told without asking too many questions was perfect for his uses.

Before he could be engaged again in a lengthy conversation, he moved quickly across the room to where his contact, a computer programmer named Tim Wright, was waiting for him. Wright’s appearance matched his profession: dark hair, cut short in a functional style, a short-sleeved, polyester dress shirt, khaki pants and loafers. He stood almost six feet in height, but wasn’t in great physical condition. The spare tire around his midsection suggested a life spent sitting, and not on the ab-cruncher machine at his local gym.

Vengai offered his hand in greeting when he got close enough. “Mr. Wright? It’s good to meet you in person.”

Nervous, Wright nodded. “Yes, I’m…it’s good to meet you, too.” He held up his attaché case. “Should we go somewhere to talk?”

“Yes, let’s get out of sight before you disappear into a puddle of sweat.”

The nervous man pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow as they ducked out of sight. Like most conference hotels there were any number of places that seemed to be in view of everything and yet completely secluded at the same time. Vengai led him to an unoccupied conference room that was set up for the next day. The dark room was illuminated only with light spilling in from a small break in the air wall that separated the one larger room into two.

“You are not used to this kind of…work, are you, Mr. Wright?”

“No, I’m usually as loyal and patriotic as they come, but I need the money.”

“Your words do not reassure me. How do I know that we won’t complete our business, and then I’ll step outside to find myself surrounded by federal agents?”

“Mr. Vengai, they may set up elaborate schemes in movies, but if I were caught trying to steal this software from the office, I wouldn’t be here. They don’t set up stings, just deal with what’s in front of them. I just want to get this done, get my money and get out of here.”

Vengai watched as Wright shifted his weight back and forth, carefully holding the case in front of him as if it were an explosive. He grabbed the handkerchief and mopped his brow once more but then immediately readjusted the case so it was away from his body.

“Show me,” Vengai said.

“There’s nothing to show, really. Your guys know how to upload satellite data, I presume?”

“Yes, of course.”

Wright popped open the case and pulled out a small box. He opened the box and displayed a portable hard drive.

“This contains the software to get me into military satellites?”

“Yes. This is a new program that I wrote. The software on here will give you access to virtually every military satellite in the world.”

“How is this possible?”

“The hardware components for military satellites are the same in almost every industrialized nation. Private industry tries to keep things proprietary, but the militaries are so concerned about what one has and one doesn’t that things are pretty similar. There are minor variations in the coding, but they are easily decoded by the algorithm included in the software. You must, however, be careful when you tap into an actively running program. The satellites can be fed and controlled with this software, but if there’s an active command running, and you try to piggyback on top of it, the analysts will see the deviation.”

Vengai grunted in disgust. “This seems worthless. How can I make use of satellites that aren’t running?”

“No, Mr. Vengai. You don’t understand. Unless there is current monitoring, you won’t be detected, and even if you are you can override and take over completely, but then they will trace it out eventually. Most constant monitoring happens on satellites that are tasked for research from universities. Most military-use satellites are simply tasked with a single event. When the program provides it, they move on with their mission, ignoring the satellite until they need it again.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see, but looking at what others do is not all I wanted. You promised more.”

“This software is not just passive observation of data,” Wright continued, warming to his subject. “You can send commands to the satellite, giving it a specific task, such as scanning satellite phone signals, surveillance operations and even bouncing remote detonation signals for embedded weapons. So long as the satellite isn’t being tasked with something else, your commands won’t be detected at all! With this software in place, you could peek inside a bedroom of the White House and no one would even know. The military would see it as simply their satellite passing by. If your guys are smart and things are well planned, you could use a Russian satellite to remote command a U.S. bomb and the Russians would be blamed, not you.”

“Yes,” Vengai said. “And if we simply want to watch what commands are being given to a satellite…?”

Wright nodded enthusiastically. “You can do that and be totally unobserved. It’s everything you asked for.”

“Good,” he said.

“And now…what about what I asked for?” Wright said. “I’m not providing this to you for free. I told you the debts I have to pay. The guys who want their money are serious, but I have a feeling that my luck is about to change.”

Vengai looked at the nervous programmer who talked so fast he had a hard time keeping up, but he’d heard the most important things he needed to know. He could spy on anyone and his satellite expert would have no problems using the device. “I have your payment,” he said, pulling an envelope from inside his suit and placing it on the table.

Wright barely hesitated before shoving the hard drive at him and grabbing the envelope. Vengai smiled as Wright flipped it open and, leaning over the table, laid out the bills. His hands trembled as he began to count the money, but the profuse sweating subsided as his thrill replaced his fear.

“It’s all there, per our arrangement,” he said. “Ten thousand in cash and the account number for a fund in the Cayman’s containing another ninety thousand. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and decided that you want to be a part of our team.”

“No. I’m an American. I wouldn’t be helping you guys if I had any other way out my current predicament. I wouldn’t do well in the back jungles of some third-world country.”

Wright continued to count, Vengai rolled his eyes. Without hesitation he reached out, grabbing the back of Wright’s head, and slammed it into the table. Vengai took advantage of Wright’s dazed state—keeping one hand on the back of his head, he used the other to provide the counterpressure he needed and twisted until he heard the satisfying crunch of the vertebrae popping out of place, cracking, then severing the spinal cord.

Wright crumpled on top of the table. Vengai replaced the money in his coat and grabbed the limp form under his arms, then dragged him into the nearby audiovisual room. He pushed the rolling carts with projectors and microphones out of the way, and shoved the body inside and out of sight. Then he calmly closed the door, grabbed the briefcase and returned to the fundraiser.

He should have taken my offer, Vengai mused.

VENGAI SMILED WHEN HE opened the door to the luxury hotel room. He held the smile through the initial software boot up and even when they hit their first wall, but his smile turned into a smoldering glare when his technician told him that the code was incomplete.

He roared with fury and threw the glass in his hand into the wall. He paced around the room, ranting about Wright and the expense of setting him up. He should have known the sweaty technician was up to something when he handed over the hard drive so easily. The situation had nagged at him, but he knew Wright would never have kept the secret for long and so killing him had been the only solution, but it was too soon.

“Sir, I think I have something,” one of the technicians said.

Vengai stopped his ranting and stood in front of the computer. The young computer technician trembled as his fingers moved over the keyboard. He was new to the Ocean Tigers and very willing, but Vengai hated his timidity. The youth was a prodigy, and he recognized that while he could train the village idiot to fight there were few in their ranks that possessed the same kind of technical skills. Once he had gotten past his initial fear he reprogrammed all of their computers and helped to reroute the bank funds so nothing could be traced back to the Ocean Tigers. With his help they had stayed hidden and would remain so until he wanted the world to know the power they had.

“What is it, Dilvan?” he asked, trying not to snap. “What have you found?”

“He left the information for the pieces of the code. They’re attached to the bank account he set up. Once the money is verified in his account, then the code will be released.”

“Well, since he won’t be getting the money, how do we get the code?”

“I might be able to hack his bank account, but this guy was careful. The code for this will only recognize his computer. I need access to that if you want me to get the code.”

“Can’t you fill in the missing code?”

“No, sir. Computer codes are like a math problem. Sometimes if you have enough variables you can piece together what is missing by creating a formula, but he was clever and left an unsolvable puzzle without his personal code.”

“Damn! Fine, we’ll get you his computer. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be even more that we can gain from his system.”

“I would say that is certain, sir.”

“Why is that?”

“If I’m reading the code right, this program isn’t just a satellite program.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that this software is built to hack almost any form of military programming out there. If we can get the rest of the code, it’s possible that we could hack into almost any military or intelligence database in the world, completely undetected.”

Kabilan felt the smile return to his face. Wright’s deception was a minor setback, but it appeared that he was going to get even more than he’d paid for, if he was just a little patient. “We’ll get the code,” he promised. “One way or another.”