“Know anywhere we can find a rental on short notice?”
“I know a guy, sure.”
The “guy” was mopping up the inside of a bar on Duval Street. It was early morning, and the only people outside were the walkers and joggers. Renee negotiated a price, and they were able to rent out a two-bedroom cottage a few blocks away from the center of town.
Max collapsed on the couch shortly after they got in the door. Renee went into one of the bedrooms and did the same. They hadn’t slept all night, and the adrenaline had long since worn off. They both slept for several hours.
Max awoke in the late afternoon. He walked through the home and out onto the tiny back deck. The small area was surrounded by green tropical plants. A quaint blue swimming pool. Three wicker deck chairs.
He changed into a pair of running shorts — the most appropriate thing he could find in his bag — and walked out to the private pool area. He placed his phone on the outdoor table and slid into the cool water. He dunked himself, got out, and lay down on one of the deck chairs. He grabbed one of the colorful folded towels that had been laid out by the property manager and used it as a pillow. Max took his phone and started catching up on the day’s news.
The incident in Georgia wasn’t being reported accurately. The local papers were calling it a burglary. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution mentioned something about a possible meth gang. While the news stories didn’t give him much information, the pictures did.
Special Agent Flynn, the man who had questioned him in D.C. two days before, was photographed on the scene, wearing a navy-blue FBI raid jacket.
Renee walked out onto the pool deck. “Enjoying the vacation?”
“I hate to waste a chance to relax.” He gripped her shoulder. “Are you alright? After last night, I mean?”
She stood close to him. Nodding ever so slightly, she whispered. “Yes. I think so. I’ve never seen or done anything like that before.” He could see how upset she was.
“Like I said, you did well. Thank you. Look, if any of this gets to be too much… I’ll understand if you need to stop.”
Her expression changed, determination flashing in her eyes. “You need my help.”
He nodded.
She sat on the chair next to him and opened up her laptop. Max watched her type for a few moments. He admired her bravery. It couldn’t have been easy for her.
After some typing, Renee said, “I just started looking at the tracking data I was able to collect last night. The hackers who located us — when they did that, it allowed me to collect some of their electronic identification info. I know more about them now.”
“And who are they?”
“I think they’re connected to an outfit called Maljab Tactical.”
“I know that name.” He searched his memory. “How do I know that name?”
“Tell me about the Russians that ended up dead at your home in France,” Renee said.
Max looked up at her. “They were part of an arms deal.”
“Were they connected to the Russian mobster that got killed in Gibraltar? Sergei?”
“Sergei set up the introduction, but they weren’t Russian mafia.”
“How were you involved with Sergei?”
“I ran him. He was an informant and an asset. Because of his mafia affiliation, he was well plugged in.”
“Did you trust him?”
“I never trust any informant as far as I can throw them. Informants get to where they are by being either too dumb or too morally corrupt to know better.”
“So Sergei introduced you to the two Russian arms dealers, and then you killed them? He must have been pissed off at that,” said Renee.
“He didn’t give a shit. Sergei was paid off. Cash cures all kinds of heartache in that line of work.”
“You paid him as a way to say sorry?”
“That’s the way things are done. The Russian arms dealers I killed weren’t part of his organization, so he didn’t care as long as it didn’t get him in any trouble. We made sure it didn’t point to either of us. Officially, I was out of town.”
“When did you kill those two men?”
“The incident happened about a year ago.”
“And you were pulled out of France when?”
“Shortly after.”
“A year ago.”
“Yes.”
“So that was the last time you were in touch with Sergei?”
“Yes.”
“So then he gets in touch with a hacker group and what… remembers his old rich friend Max?”
“Maybe he saw an article about the Fend 100 and thought of me?”
“Okay, so let’s play that out. So they come up with a plan to hack into the Fend Aerospace Company and steal all their data. They might sell it to the competition. They might hold it for ransom and have the company pay them off. That’s the way those things normally work. But when you go after big fish like that, a company like Fend Aerospace… they usually can afford to bankroll their own white hat or black hat hackers. People like me. People who can track down and upend the ransomware.”
Max rubbed his temples. “So what are you saying?”
“None of this makes sense yet. It doesn’t make sense that Sergei would find a hacker group all by himself and come up with this plan. And it also doesn’t make sense that they would frame you.”
Max said, “Well, we know it isn’t Sergei’s family mafia business that’s after me anyway. They wouldn’t have killed him.”
“What about the two arms dealers?”
“You think that’s what this is about?” Max asked.
“The men who attacked us in Georgia and the arms dealers are both Russian, for starters.”
“Yeah, but those two were low-level nothings. The people who just attacked us in Georgia were professionals, Renee.”
“Tell me more about how it happened in France,” she said again.
Max sat up, eyeing her. “The DIA had me facilitate a meeting between the Russian suppliers and one of our assets in northern Africa. Libya, I believe. I was essentially just a matchmaker. A middleman. I would help connect people who were looking for certain hard-to-get items with the type of people who could procure them.”
“And?”
“As you’re aware, the rule of law is not quite as strict in different parts of the world. So while most of the matchmaking I did was legit, much of it was not.”
“How did you not get in trouble with French authorities?”
“The DIA took care of that. The French government knew enough not to get in my way.”
“And these small-time Russian arms suppliers — these were men that the DIA instructed you to set up a deal with?”
Max nodded. “The agent was embedded with a terrorist group in Libya. He needed to prove to his group that he could get them access to arms. We were trying to help him set up that deal.”
“Why didn’t you go through another channel? Why use this Russian group?”
“Part of my job was to continuously make new contacts. In this case, I was trying to establish a connection with the Russian group. It was two birds with one stone. I figured they’d supply the arms, and the DIA agent in Libya would get what he needed.”
“But it didn’t work out that way.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“I think I’m starting to see a connection. The hackers that found us in Georgia were part of Maljab Tactical. Maljab Tactical worked all over the Middle East, including Syria. And they specialized in cyber operations, among other things.”
Max raised his head. “Very good, Renee.”
“Maljab Tactical is the subsidiary of a larger Russian mercenary organization — Bear Security Group. I’m curious if those ‘small-time’ arms dealers you were with might have been connected to Bear Security Group as well.”
“I know Bear Security Group. They’re huge. They’re the primary Russian mercenary group in Syria and Crimea.”