Taylor raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Ain’t that kind of neighborhood.”
Deion and Valerie watched the apartment manager leave, then opened the trunk of their Honda and carried their suitcases in the newly-rented apartment.
Not long after, Eric’s com crackled to life. “We’re here,” Deion said. “How do you want to do this?”
“Point the microphones at the wall facing Sadir’s apartment,” Karen said. “We’ll start recording as soon as we receive audio. Mark, point your gear to his window. I can use the laser to clean up sound.”
“Roger that,” Mark said. They waited as he pointed his gear. “Laser online.”
The laser bounced off the windowpane, and when it vibrated, the photo receiver picked up the vibration and amplified it. In conjunction with the audio from Deion and Valerie’s gear, it allowed Karen to filter out unwanted noise and hear inside Sadir’s apartment with crystal clarity.
“How long before you hack his Internet connection?” Nancy asked.
“I’m still tracking IP’s registered to his ISP,” Karen said. “I have to account for each computer connected to their network and registered to subnets in that area. I’ve gone through hundreds. As soon as I can find a computer that matches, I’ll fire up the penetration software.”
Eric sighed. “Okay, folks. Looks like we have a long afternoon ahead of us. Mark, I hope you packed coffee.”
The radio crackled, and he heard Mark laughing. “There’s two thermoses in each van,” Mark said.
“That’s why I love that man,” Taylor said. “His attention to detail.”
They waited for hours. Cars and trucks rolled by on the street outside, and the custom chillers in the vans worked overtime to quietly cool them. Soon, the computers and other equipment brought the temperature in the van to a low boil.
“Karen?” Eric finally asked. “Got anything on his computer?”
“Not yet,” she said. “It might be turned off. I’ll have to wait for him to power it up.”
He shook his head. They continued to wait until a beat up blue Nissan pulled into the apartment parking lot and parked in front of Sadir’s apartment. The man who got out was clearly of Arabic descent, dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt, with a thick shaggy beard and wire-rimmed glasses. He was bigger than Eric expected, and he moved quickly, glancing around before pulling keys from his pocket, opening the door, and stepping inside.
“Has to be Sadir,” Eric said. “Deion, carry some trash to the end of the complex. Make it look like you’re moving in.”
“Roger that, Steeljaw,” Deion said. “The last tenants left some empty boxes. And, a stink you can’t begin to imagine.”
Eric turned to Taylor, who was barely containing his laughter. “Better you than me, brother.”
In a few moments, the door to their apartment opened and Deion stepped outside, carrying a stack of newspapers and a cardboard box. He walked the length of the building, threw the trash in the blue dumpster, then walked back. He entered the apartment and closed the door. The radio crackled again. “There’s no sound coming from his apartment,” Deion said. “You want me to put a tracer on his car?”
Eric looked out the window and squinted. “Still too much light.”
Nancy shook her head. “Mark can follow him if he leaves,” she said. “Otherwise, it’s safer to tag his car after the sun sets.”
Eric gave Nancy a sidelong glance. He would have preferred to have given the order, but technically he was only there to supervise. He didn’t begrudge her stepping up. She was the senior commander on the operation. He read the license plate number to Karen, who started searching. It was only a seconds before she replied, “The car is registered to Abduhl Sadir,” she said. “I’m still working on the computers.”
“Are you getting any audio?” Deion asked.
“I’m receiving,” Karen said. “Filters are running. This would be a lot easier if he had a freaking cellphone I could remotely activate. HUMINT. It’s like living in the stone age.”
Nancy shook her head. “Have you found anything useful?”
“We have audio cleaned up,” Karen said. “Sounds like he’s just moving around the apartment.”
It wasn’t long before they heard Sadir speaking in Arabic. “It’s hard to make out,” Deion said, “but I think he’s asking about an operation.”
“It’s a VOIP call,” Karen said. “I just registered an outbound connection to Syria from an IP on his subnet.”
“Can we hear the other party?” Eric asked.
“I’m boosting the gain, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Can you decrypt the voice call?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t have enough horsepower to decrypt it in real-time,” Karen said. “I can break the encryption, but it’s going to take me a couple of hours.”
“That’s better than nothing,” Eric said. “Do the best you can.”
“Wait,” Deion said. “He just said something. Sounds like he’s giving orders.”
“Definitely our guy,” Taylor said. “You sure we shouldn’t just grab him?”
Eric shook his head. “No, we’ve got to find out who is on the other end of that call. Karen, are you recording the entire conversation?”
“Yes,” Karen said.
They listened for several minutes. Occasionally Deion would interrupt, translating Sadir’s end of the conversation. Most of it carried little meaning.
If only we could hear the other end.
Finally the man said something, and Deion translated. “He’s asking about Syria,” Deion said.
“Karen? Have you tracked the other IP address?” Eric asked.
“It’s an Internet café in Aleppo,” Karen said. “I’m trying to install malware on that computer, too. If there’s a camera, I can activate it and take a photo.”
“He’s winding down,” Deion said.
“Karen? We need something,” Eric said.
“I’ve installed a backdoor,” Karen said triumphantly. “There is a camera. Activating it now.”
Eric’s laptop displayed the screen capture. Halfway around the world a small room was filled with young people, all typing away on computers. It was dark and the picture dim, but the Arabic man’s olive skin was clearly visible, as well as the scar across his cheek.
“Good work,” Eric said. “How long before we can ID him?”
“I’m cleaning up the image,” Karen said, “to give the software a better chance of a hit. We should know something in a few hours.”
Liu Kong’s face appeared on Huang Lei’s computer. The short man was calm, his face passive.
“Yes, Kong.”
“Preparations are underway.”
Huang Lei nodded. “Do you expect complications?”
Liu Kong shook his head.
“Thank you, Kong.” Huang Lei pressed the button to close the video call. He turned to stare out the window, his eyes watching the vast ocean, still fascinated by the breakers near the shore.
Kong would do anything for him, and he felt no small affection for the man.
The boy was wild, almost feral, when he found him on the streets of Tianjin. He took the boy in, even though he was not much older, and raised Kong as his own. He fed him, clothed him, and educated him in the history of China. He took Kong to his first museum, introducing him to a world the boy never imagined.
He tried to be a father to the boy, because his own father’s passing had struck close to home, a wound to his heart that time would never heal. He remembered everything his father said about the Americans and Russians, and when the time was right, he taught Kong everything his father had taught him.