“I’m glad you called. And on my secure line at that,” added Connelly approvingly. “I’ve begun looking into this Kira Miller case more carefully and I’m hitting roadblocks that shouldn’t be there for someone with my clearance. I think you’re right. There’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.”
“Colonel, I’ve learned more since we last spoke. Not enough to complete the picture, but enough to suspect you may have just kicked a hornet’s nest. I think you could be in danger. I recommend you leave your office immediately. Write this down,” he said. Desh gestured to Griffin who handed him the newly scribed GPS coordinates. Desh read them carefully to Connelly. “The coordinates I just gave you are to a short break in the tree line that parallels the road you’ll be on. Otherwise the tree line is unbroken for many miles. If you go off road there you’ll find a pocket in the woods, hidden from the road. Meet me there in as close to three hours from now as you can manage. First check your clothing and car for bugs and assume you’re being followed.”
“Roger that,” said Connelly, trusting Desh enough to follow his instructions without asking any questions.
“I’ll be with a friend: about six-five, three hundred pounds, bushy beard. I’ll explain everything when I see you.” Desh paused. “Before we sign off,” he added, “has Smith contacted you yet today to explain what last night was all about?”
“Smith?”
“It’s an obvious alias. I’m talking about the person you asked me to call in when I found Kira Miller. Black-Ops officer; short, wiry. Scar under his ear.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, David,” said Connelly in alarm. “Black-Ops? I was told that number is to the private cell phone of my boss at MacDill: Brigadier General Evan Gordon.”
22
The army, navy, air force, and marines each had their own Special Operations Command, but all four reported in to the US Special Operations Command, or USSOCOM, at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida, headed by a four-star general. It made sense that this case warranted attention higher up the chain of command and that the contact information had been for Connelly’s boss.
Desh felt his skin crawl. The news that Smith wasn’t who he claimed to be significantly increased the chance that Kira had been right and Connelly was in imminent danger. This called into question the veracity of everything that Smith had told him. Desh knew he needed to consider the full implications of this new information and discuss this further with Connelly, but that would have to wait for another time. He ended the conversation quickly so the colonel could begin taking steps to protect himself.
“Ready to go?” asked Griffin when Desh was off the phone.
“Not yet. I need to think,” said Desh. He lowered his head for almost a full minute as Griffin waited anxiously.
Desh finally lifted his head and looked at Griffin thoughtfully. “It’s possible that we’re no longer under surveillance or we’re being surveilled by friendlies,” he said. “But we can’t be certain of this, so we need to freeze anyone watching. We need to make sure they don’t have any reason to point their satellites at the exits of this building while we’re leaving.”
“What are you talking about? Whoever is after us can’t just access satellites and get real-time imagery of whatever they want on a whim.”
Desh raised his eyebrows.
Griffin swallowed hard. “Come on, David,” he said nervously. “Are you saying these people are so high up in Big Brother they can authorize real-time satellite surveillance of us?”
“I have reason to believe so, yes.”
“Holy Christ!” barked Griffin. “We’re totally and completely screwed.”
“Don’t count us out just yet,” said Desh. “I have an idea. If we can convince them we’ll be staying here for a while they’ll have no reason to point a satellite at your apartment complex.”
“How do you know they aren’t watching the exits the old fashioned way?”
“I’ll reconnoiter the area before we leave, but I don’t think they are. They’ve told me they’re calling off the dogs to get my cooperation. They know I’ll be checking carefully to see if they’ve gone back on their word.”
Griffin didn’t look convinced. “So what’s your plan?”
Desh told him. He would remove the bugs from the container in which he had placed them and assume they were still active. Then they would put on a little play for their audience. “For a hacker with your social engineering skills this should be a snap,” said Desh encouragingly. “Don’t overact, don’t speak woodenly as if you’re reciting lines, and don’t speak directly into the bug. They’ll pick up your voice from wherever you are. Just be yourself. If this seems staged it’ll blow up in our faces.”
Griffin frowned. “Thanks for not putting any pressure on me,” he said dryly. He paused for a few seconds to get things straight in his head, took a deep breath, and then gestured for Desh to proceed.
Desh carefully removed the bugs, putting a finger to his lips unnecessarily, and then nodded at Griffin to begin.
Griffin’s face was a mask of concentration. “David?” he said in disbelief. “David Desh? Wake up.”