Charles shook his head. “No.”
“But if…”
“This is only going to increase the pressure on us, I’m afraid. If we don’t put on a good show next week, the different stakeholders might get spooked.”
“But the cybersecurity investigators said that they weren’t able to penetrate all of our firewalls.”
Charles looked out the window of the jet as he spoke. “You went over the data they stole. What do you think?”
Maria looked glum. “They have the Fend 100 aircraft blueprints. Those alone are worth a lot to us. But they weren’t able to access the servers that held the AI program.”
“So? What’s your prognosis, doctor?”
“If our aircraft design gets into competitors’ hands, that would be bad. And Wall Street will punish us if we don’t secure the FAA’s NextGen contract. That’s the most important thing to us now. We need that government contract finalized.”
Charles tapped his fingers against his armrest. “Our corporate cybersecurity experts tell me that these hackers are like Somali pirates. They’ll seize our precious information and hold it hostage for an indefinite period. Or like you suggested, sell it to the highest bidder. We can’t postpone the Fend 100 flight. If we delay that flight, we give the hackers and our competition more opportunity to hurt us. Delaying the Fend 100 flight would delay the finalization of the NextGen contract with the FAA — or worse, put it in jeopardy.”
“That would be awful for the company.”
“Yes, it would.”
“So what do you want to do, Charles?”
“We need to ensure that we improve our cybersecurity efforts. The FBI tells us that the hackers attempted to steal our AI technology, but they were unsuccessful. Fine. But they also warned us that they would keep trying. I want you to make sure that we are improving all of our security. Under no circumstances will we allow someone to steal the Fend 100’s AI program.”
“I understand. Who would do this sort of thing?” Maria asked.
Charles continued to look out the window. “The leeches of the earth. The Fend 100 flight must go off without a hitch. The sooner that happens, the less vulnerable we will be.”
The stewardess walked back down the aisle. “Mr. Fend, you have a phone call, sir.”
He thanked her and walked to the front of the jet, where the corded satellite phone was plugged in.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was one that he hadn’t heard in quite some time. “Hello, Charles.”
Charles closed his eyes, tightening his grip on the phone. “I had hoped that we were finished.”
Charles could see Maria trying not to be too obvious in her attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation.
The voice on the other end said, “We were finished, Charles. We were. But it seems that our old friend has renewed his interest in you and your company. And now there is another consideration, I’m afraid.”
“And what is that?”
“Your son.”
9
The fact that Max Fend had been working for the CIA wasn’t a problem, per se. But the fact that Max had lied about it to the FBI during their investigation — well, to Jake Flynn, that was a problem. Maybe that was standard procedure for them. Flynn didn’t know. But he needed to find out.
Flynn drove down early in the morning. He could have gone to Langley. But if Langley was anything like the FBI headquarters, Flynn preferred to stay as far away from there as possible. The farther away you get from government headquarters, the more people smile, and the looser their lips become. Although he wasn’t quite sure if that would apply in this case.
The Farm, as it was known, was the CIA’s training ground near Williamsburg, Virginia. Officially, the place was known as the Armed Forces Experimental Training Activity, or Camp Peary. The land was owned and run by the US military. But much of the base was used to train officers in the CIA’s Directorate of Operations. He’d had to get special permission from both the FBI and CIA to gain access to the base. His interview was set up with someone the CIA thought would best be able to help him out.
The CIA man’s name was Caleb Wilkes. By the looks of it, he was in his late forties. Maybe early fifties. Thinning gray hair. Suit jacket with no tie. Top button undone.
“You comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” replied Flynn.
Wilkes closed the door and sat down across from Flynn. “We were surprised that you called us asking about Max. Mind if I ask what led you to believe that he worked for us?”
“Sure. I’m looking at Max Fend as part of an ongoing investigation into Fend Aerospace. When I was looking at Max Fend’s background, I came across his Defense Department security clearance form. He worked for the DoD for a few years after college. So I talked to his contact that he had listed on his security clearance for when he worked at the DoD.”
The CIA man listened but didn’t speak.
Flynn went on. “So the guy gets talking, and he tells me that he thinks that they get a few people a year stashed there by CIA’s personnel department, awaiting further assignment. He said he thought Max was one of them, but couldn’t be sure. The more I thought about it, the more his job overseas seemed like a good cover for CIA employment. I think the fact that we’re both sitting here tells me that I’m warm.”
Wilkes nodded. “Is that it? Anything else I need to be aware of? You understand the sensitivity here. If there’s a way that we can improve our process, I’d like to get that feedback.”
The CIA man’s voice was impassive. Flynn wondered if he already knew about Max Fend fleeing in a car chase yesterday.
Flynn said, “That’s it.”
“And the reason you’re investigating Max Fend? What’s his connection, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“We’re just looking into a recent Fend Aerospace incident, involving their automated flight system.”
Caleb Wilkes stayed still. “I see.”
Flynn flipped open a small notepad and clicked his pen. “Mind if I take notes?”
“Actually, I’d rather you didn’t. This is a courtesy discussion. And I’m afraid it will be a short one. Normally we never discuss former employees, but we’ll make an exception to help aid your investigation. You see, Max Fend actually didn’t work here for very long. Your friend at the DoD was probably right. I’m afraid that we do stash people there — and in various other jobs within the government — while we’re running background checks. We can’t be too careful.”
“So you’re confirming that Max did work for the CIA?”
He held up a finger. “Yes, but not for long. He washed out of the program.”
“Why?”
“Performance. He just wasn’t up to our standards, I’m afraid. But I implore you — keep this to yourself. We don’t normally provide information on anyone who has been to this school, and that includes washouts.”
Flynn lowered his voice a little. “You mind if I ask you a question? Is this place really what everyone says it is? It’s really a spy school?”
Caleb smiled. “It’s not exactly a well-kept secret. They have many books and TV shows about it. But most of them aren’t very accurate.” Flynn noticed that he didn’t really answer the question.
Flynn nodded. “But you are sure that Max Fend never worked for the Agency beyond being here?”
“Correct.”
“And how long was he at this… school?”
“I would have to check the record again. Sorry. I only glanced at it just before you arrived. I think it was a matter of weeks. Maybe a month, tops. It’s quite rigorous training.”