There was no doubt about it. It was a body.
An hour later, the Promenade was swarming with policemen. Sergeant Wei had provided a statement and the homicide detectives had taken over the case. Wei couldn’t believe he had run across a murder. A Caucasian man had been shot in the head, wrapped in burlap, and dropped in the water. The strange thing was that the killer or killers wanted the corpse to be found; hence, it was tied to the waterfront.
The dead man was logged as a “John Doe” at the morgue. It would take several days before the corpse was successfully identified as Professor Gregory Jeinsen.
It was crunch time again at Third Echelon.
Carly St. John sometimes brought a bedroll with her to work when things got bad. As temporary technical director, she was more or less second in command of the team, reporting only to Colonel Lambert. Anna Grimsdottir, her superior and the regular technical director, was on the Company’s mandatory annual psych leave and was due back soon. In the meantime it was Carly’s responsibility to make sure Third Echelon functioned efficiently and accurately — mistakes could come back to haunt her and everyone involved in the security of the nation. That was why last year’s leak of Splinter Cell names to the Shop was so demoralizing. She’d never rest until she learned how it had happened.
She had stopped working at twelve-thirty A.M. to try to get a little sleep so that she could be up and pounding on her keyboard before the colonel arrived at seven. But something was nagging at her brain and Carly knew she was close. When she realized she’d never get to sleep, Carly sat up in the bedroll — still dressed in her work clothes — and decided to go back to the computer. The clock in her office told her it was three o’clock in the morning.
As she sat in front of her monitor, the same thought kept coming back to her.
What am I overlooking?
After all the time she had spent hacking into every employee’s computer, examining every byte of the firewall, and reprogramming the security system, Carly St. John was finally on the verge of learning how sensitive information had been leaked. But something was eluding her.
She sighed and decided a pick-me-up was needed. She left her office and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. Even though her mind was racing, her body needed some caffeine to catch up with her gray matter. When she finished the preparations, she heard noise coming from Mike Chan’s office. Carly moved to his door and gave it a tap.
“Mike? You in there?”
“Huh? Yeah.” Chan sounded sleepy. After a couple of seconds, the door opened. Carly was startled by his appearance. He was unshaven and appeared to be wearing three-day-old clothes.
“What do you want?” he asked. No hello. No smile.
“I didn’t know you were working late,” she said. “I thought I was alone, that’s all.”
“Nah, I’m here. I’ve been here since yesterday morning.”
“What are you working on?”
“The usual.” Mike Chan was one of Third Echelon’s research analysts. He reported to Carl Bruford, the director of research. Carly had never found Chan particularly friendly. Chan was very no-nonsense with regard to fellow employees. He was a serious guy, difficult to get to know.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone, then,” she said. Carly started to walk away but Chan stopped her.
“Wait, Carly. Sorry, I guess I fell asleep and you woke me. You know how it is.”
She turned and nodded. “Yeah. You want some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
“I’m making some now. In the kitchen.”
The brew was ready so she took two mugs from the drainer sitting next to the sink. “These look clean,” she said. “I think.”
Chan followed her into the kitchen and stretched. “So how you coming with your project? Do we still have a firewall?”
“Yeah. I don’t think anyone’s going to be hacking us again.” She handed him a cup. They took turns putting in cream and sugar. “Actually, I think I’ve almost solved our problem. I’m this close.” She held her fingers up to indicate an inch.
“Really? How’s that?” Chan asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Thinking out loud.”
“No, I’m interested. Try me.” Carly was surprised. Mike Chan had never paid much attention to her before.
“Well, I discovered a back door in the old firewall that was breached. Someone from our office created the back door. Someone outside the office breached it with the insider’s help. That much I know.”
“Jeez,” Chan said. “Who could it be?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. There are traces of two ISP addresses that have gone through the door. Would you believe that one of them is in Washington, somewhere near the Senate building? The other one originated right here at Third Echelon.”
“Holy shit,” Chan said. “Does Lambert know this?”
“I’m going to tell him this morning when he comes in. I was hoping I’d be able to tell him even more by then. Hey, that reminds me. Do you know anything about Triads?”
Chan blinked. “What?”
“Triads. You know, Chinese criminal organizations.”
“Yeah, I know what they are. Why do you want to know?”
“I uncovered an encrypted e-mail that mentions a Triad in Los Angeles called the Lucky Dragons. Ever hear of them?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“I’m trying to figure out who received that e-mail. It may be a part of the puzzle.”
“You think you can?”
“Wish me luck.” She gave him a little wave and walked out with her coffee. Chan watched her go and shook his head. Carly St. John was a little dynamo. She was less than five feet, five inches tall, was twenty-nine years old, and possessed a brain that could power a computer. The joke around the office was that she should wear a sticker on her head that read INTEL INSIDE.
Chan went back to his own office and looked around the mess until he found the backpack he always brought to work with him. He opened it and retrieved a Smith & Wesson SW1911.45-caliber semiautomatic. He checked to make sure it was loaded, attached the sound suppressor that was custom-made for the weapon, racked the slide, and carried it with him toward Carly’s office. Chan couldn’t concern himself with the security cameras that lined the hallways. The situation had reached the breaking point and there was only one thing to do.
She had left her door ajar. He peered inside and saw her sitting at her desk. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she stared at the monitor.
Chan knew that Carly St. John would solve the puzzle. It was only a matter of time. For months he had kept a close watch on her, trying to intercept any information she provided to Lambert. If Carly said she was close to uncovering the traitor in Third Echelon’s midst, then it had to be true. And if she exposed the Lucky Dragons…!
Chan couldn’t allow that.
He quietly pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. Chan raised the pistol, pointed it to the back of Carly’s head, and squeezed the trigger. The gun recoiled with a PFFT! and the woman slumped over the keyboard. She might have appeared to be asleep if it weren’t for the mess that was made over the desk. Chan grimaced and moved closer. He aimed at the computer tower on the side of her desk and emptied two cartridges into it. The machine sparked and went dead. Chan then kicked it over and stomped on the casing. The covering came off and he was satisfied that the hard drive had been destroyed.
He quickly went back to his own office and stuffed his personal belongings into the backpack. His heart was beating furiously and he had to sit a moment to catch his breath. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed a number and waited.