He sauntered toward the front of the yacht until he came to a roped-off section. A sign in English hung from the rope: PRIVATE. The deck beyond the sign was in darkness. Razov had kept his strong-arm boys out of sight so as not to scare the guests. But as Austin was checking the off-limits area, a stocky man with the unmistakable bulge of weapon under his suit walked by. He saw Austin and said, "Is preevat," in a thick Russian accent.
Austin gave him a drunken smile and offered his plate. "Sausage?"
The guard replied with a sour look and kept on his rounds. Austin waited until he was out of sight and prepared to duck under the rope. He turned at the sound of a light patter on the deck and saw two white ghosts sprinting in his direction. Razov's wolfhounds. Trailing their leashes, they jumped up on his chest and almost knocked him down, then stuck their long curved snouts into the plate he was carrying. He put the food down on the deck. The dogs noisily gobbled down the sausages and prime rib, licked the plate clean, then looked up at Austin as if be were holding out on them.
Someone was running toward them. It was the dogs' trainer. He said something in Russian that might have been an apology, grabbed the leashes and led the dogs away. Austin waited until he was once more alone, then ducked under the ropes into the restricted area. He made his way forward, as silent as a ghost. With his black outfit he easily melted into the shadows.
After a few minutes, he stopped at a vent that was taller dim he was by a foot. He reached into his pocket, brought out an object about the size and shape of a Palm Pilot and hit the On button. The small dial glowed pale green, and a set of numbers appeared. Yaeger's "sniffer" was ready to go to work.
An excited Yaeger had called while Austin was getting ready to go to Boston. "I think I know how to plug into the yacht's system," Yaeger said. "Wi-Fi."
Austin no longer blinked at the strange language Yaeger used. He assumed that computer geniuses like Yaeger were on another planet and sometimes they reverted to their native tongue. He'd asked for an explanation. Yaeger said that Wi-Fi was shorthand for the wireless computer networks that were coming into use at major complexes.
"Say you're running a big hospital," Yaeger explained. "You want your people to have access to vital information so that if they're away from their computers on the other side of the building, they don't have to go running back. You set up a wireless computer network that only covers the building or complex. The key staff carry laptop computers. They simply switch them on, tune in to the right frequency and they have instant access to the main system."
"That's very interesting, Hiram, but what's it got to do with our problem?"
"Everything. The Ataman yacht has Wi-Fi."
Austin still wasn't sure where Yaeger was going, but Hiram's enthusiasm was contagious. "How do you know this?"
"It's Max's idea, really. After we fell flat on our faces trying to decipher Ataman's code, she started to pullout everything she could find on the yacht. There wasn't a lot, because Ataman built the ship at its yard on the Black Sea. But the electronics were beyond anything the Russians had, so they bought American equipment and had it installed by a French team. Max got into the French company's file. They set up Wi-Fi for the yacht."
"I can see a hospital using something like that, but why a yacht?"
"Think of it, Kurt. A boat that size is a community unto itself. Say you're the purser, and a question on the payroll comes up while you're away from your office at the other end of the boat. You flick on your laptop, and there you have it. Same thing goes for the chef. Maybe he's in his cabin and has to check inventory. Or you're the first mate and you're on break in the mess hall when you need information on who's manning a shift."
"How's this help with our main problem, the missing password?"
“The password must be in that ship. If Max and I could plug directly into the network. we could take stuff out at our leisure and look closely at it."
"What's stopping you?"
"A couple of things. First of all, the information is bound to be encrypted against unauthorized use. Second, the wireless signal is a weak one that only covers the yacht itself. I need somebody to place a 'sniffer' on board."
"You're talking computer weird again."
"Sorry. A sniffer is simply a device that can tap into the network, pump up the signal and send it to the waiting arms of Max."
"Impressive. You say the files would be encrypted. What's to say the code won't stop you again?"
"Nothing. But it's not a dedicated encryption like the one on the mystery ship. We can come in sideways from different angles. And besides, Max is determined."
"Nothing like a determined woman, even a cybernetic one. Where can I pick up these electronic noses?"
"There's a NUMA courier on the way over with a package. Instructions included."
The instructions had been simple. Click the sniffer on, check to make sure it's picking up a signal, then use the magnet attached to the back of the transmitter to attach it. Yaeger had given him a second sniffer for backup.
Now Austin reached into the vent and placed the sniffer out of sight. Then he worked his way over to a lifeboat and felt his way down to where the davit joined the deck. He got down on his hands and knees and found a small hollow space in the steel support. He slipped the second sniffer inside and started to rise, when he heard a soft click on the deck behind him. Something hard pressed against the small of his back.
32
YOU'RE GETTING CARELESS in your old age, Kurt Austin. The next time it could be fatal."
The hard pressure was removed from his back. Austin turned and saw the livid white scar on Petrov's face in the silvery moonlight.
"I aged at least ten years when you stuck that gun in my ribs, Ivan. A simple hello would have been sufficient to grab my attention."
"It keeps me in practice," Petrov said "I don't want to lose my edge."
"Believe me, your edge is as sharp as ever. Who let you in my country?"
"Unlike your unsanctioned adventure in Russia, my visit here comes with the blessing of your State Department. I'm in the U.S. on an agricultural trade mission for Siberian Pest Control and asked the local Russian consulate to include me on the guest list for this reception."
"How did you find me?"
"I saw you leave the grand salon and followed you into the restricted area of the ship. Your face threw me off, I must admit, but it was impossible to hide those wide shoulders and that confident walk. I've been wondering, where did you get that incredible wig?"
"I bought it at a KGB yard sale."
"I wouldn't be surprised at that the way things are going. May I ask why you were crawling about in the dark on your hands and knees?"
"I lost a contact lens?"
"Really? I don't remember your dossier saying anything about contacts."
Austin chuckled and told the Russian about the electronic sniffers. Ivan was duly impressed and asked only that he be kept informed as information developed. "I suggest that we rejoin the festivities," he said. "Most of the guards are watching the guests, but a few are making the rounds."
Austin knew they were already pressing their luck. They moved toward the lights and music, taking advantage of every shadow or pocket of darkness. They saw only one guard and ducked behind a bollard until he passed. Moments later, they were strolling along the deck.
Petrov, who looked debonair in his tuxedo, lit up an American cigarette. "What are your plans now?"
"You didn't see Razov's pet monk, did you?"
"I suspect that Razov prefers to have Boris stay out of sight on public occasions. He mayor may not be on the ship. We're not likely to see him."
"In that case, maybe I'll spend a few minutes talking to our host."
"Razov? Do you think it's wise to play your hand here on his territory?"