Its specials ops capabilities likely dwarfed that of any government on Earth. Each Clocktower cell had three groups. One third of the staff were case officers, similar to the CIA’s National Clandestine service; they worked undercover in actual terror organizations, cartels, and other bad-guy-run groups or in places where they could develop sources: local government, banks, and police departments. Their goal was Human Intelligence, or HUMINT, first-hand intel.
Another third of each cell worked as analysts. The analysts spent the vast majority of their time on two activities: hacking and guessing. They hacked everyone and everything: phone calls, emails, and texts. They combined that Signals Intelligence, or SIGINT, with the HUMINT and any other local intel and transmitted it to Central. Josh’s chief responsibility was to make sure Jakarta Station maximized its intelligence gathering and to draw conclusions about the intel. Drawing conclusion sounded better than guessing, but his job essentially came down to guessing and making recommendations to the Station Chief. The Station Chief, with council from Central, then authorized local operations, which were conducted by the cell’s covert operations group — the last third of the staff.
Jakarta’s covert ops group had developed a reputation as one of Clocktower’s leading strike teams. That status had afforded Josh something of a celebrity status at the conference. Josh’s cell was the de facto leader of the Asia-Pacific region and everyone wanted to know what their tricks of the trade were.
But not everyone was star-struck with Josh — he was glad to see many of his old friends at the conference. People he had worked with at the CIA or liaised with from other governments. It was incredible, he had been communicating with people he had known for years. Clocktower had a strict policy: every new member got a new name, your past was destroyed, and you couldn’t reveal your identity outside the cell. Outbound phone calls were computer voice-altered. In-person contact was strictly forbidden.
A face-to-face meeting — with every chief analyst, of every cell — shattered that veil of secrecy. It went against every Clocktower operating protocol. Josh knew there must be a reason — something extremely compelling, and extremely urgent — to take the risk, but he never could have guessed the secret Central revealed at the conference. He still couldn’t believe it. And he had to tell David Vale, immediately.
Josh walked to the front of the elevator and stood close to the doors, ready to make a bee line for the station chief’s office.
It was 9 am, and Jakarta Station would be in full swing. The analysts pit would be lit up like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, with analysts crowded around banks of monitors pointing and arguing. Across the floor, the door to the field ops prep room would be wide open and likely full of operatives getting ready for the day. The late arrivals would be standing in front of their lockers, donning their body armor quickly and stuffing extra magazines in every pocket on their person. The early risers usually sat around on the wood benches and talked about sports and weapons before the morning briefings, their camaraderie interrupted only by the occasional locker room prank.
It was home, and Josh had to admit that he had missed it, although the conference was rewarding in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Knowing he was part of a larger community of chief analysts, people who shared the same life experience as he, people who had the same problems and fears as he did, was surprisingly comforting. In Jakarta, he was head of analysis, he had a team that worked for him, and he answered only to the Station Chief, but he had no real peers, no one to really talk to. Intelligence work was a lonely profession, especially for the people in charge. It had certainly taken its toll on some of his old friends. Many had aged well beyond their years. Others had become hardened and distant. After seeing them, Josh had wondered if he would end up that way. Everything had a price, but he believed in the work they were doing. No job was perfect.
As his thoughts drifted back from the conference, he realized the elevator should have opened by now. When he turned his head to look around, the elevator lights blurred, like a video in slow motion. His body felt heavy. He could hardly breathe. He reached out to grab the elevator rail, but his hand wouldn’t close; it slipped off and he saw the steel floor rushing up.
CHAPTER 10
Interrogation Room C
West Jakarta Police Detention Center
Jakarta, Indonesia
“Why won’t you listen to me? Why the hell aren’t you out looking for those two boys?” Kate Warner stood, leaned over the metal table and stared at the smug little interrogator who had already wasted twenty minutes of her time.
“We are trying to find them. That is why we are asking you these questions, Miss Warner.”
“I already told you, I don’t know anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” The little man tilted his head side-to-side as he said the words.
“Maybe my ass. I’ll find them myself.” She stepped toward the steel door.
“That door is locked, Miss Warner.”
“So unlock it.”
“Not possible. It must be locked while a suspect is questioned.”