Felix could always count on Camilla to miss the obvious—if it wasn’t fashion or society related. When it came to keeping up with the Joneses and manipulating public perception, she was a savant. “By knowing nothing I meant biographical data. He is, of course, intimately familiar with what you look like and sound like from the videos you provided as part of the replacement process. He can’t operate without that information.”
“Of course. I forgot. Too much wine.” Camilla raised her glass.
“Can’t he trace this call to our location?” Aria asked.
Aria had a delightfully disarming way about her. Felix considered it her secret weapon. She was much more savvy and intelligent than you’d think at first glance, because at first glance you were thinking that you’d like to take her clothes off—and she just might let you.
“No. Like your burner phones, this video call operates over a Darknet VoIP service that provides no geolocation.”
Felix looked around. “Any other questions?”
“How many people are on his team?” David asked.
“Tory works alone. He subcontracts when necessary—programmers and limo drivers and such—but those people know nothing about how their little piece of action fits into a larger puzzle.” Felix’s phone vibrated as he spoke.
He checked the screen. “I see that Tory is online, so we’ll pause the questions if there are no objections?”
Felix did a quick visual survey of the room, then hit the button that brought the big flat screen to life. Tory’s distinctive face, with its chiseled cheekbones and butch-cut strawberry-blond hair, came into focus. He locked his pale blue eyes on the camera and said, “Good afternoon.”
13
Tastes and Tactics
LISA COULDN’T HELP being reminded of Vladimir Putin whenever Tory Lago smiled. While the Finn had more hair than the Russian president, and his cheekbones were far more pronounced, the two predators shared the same crocodile stare. Cold, cunning, and clearly willing to make a snack out of her.
While she silently questioned the wisdom of employing such a man, Felix turned toward the freshly illuminated screen. “Good afternoon, Tory. We’re all gathered and ready for your update.”
Tory’s reply came with a two-second delay. A result of the VoIP relay, no doubt. “I’m happy to finally have the opportunity to address you all at once. As you know, I’ve been at this for six months now. During that time, I’ve identified replacements for all nine of you and have completed seven.”
Despite his militant appearance, Tory had a smooth voice. It came across as intelligent and sincere, again reminding Lisa of the Russian president. Undoubtedly, that charisma was working in the Immortals’ favor, given the interactive nature of his assignment.
“So far there has been just one hiccup, and as luck would have it, that hiccup happened earlier this morning. David ran into someone looking for his replacement at the very moment he happened to be there closing out business. Fortunately, David called me right away. I was able to eliminate the security breach before it could become a threat.
“Regardless of that blip, I expect to have the two remaining replacements—those for Aria and Felix—completed within a month.”
“Are you confident that you’ve cured my hiccups?” David asked.
Taking tone into account, Lisa surmised that David considered it closer to a heart attack than a hiccup.
Tory didn’t blink. “Well, first of all, that was the one and only time you’ll be required to interface with your replacement’s life. Now that all his accounts have been closed, you’re free and clear to operate elsewhere as Lars de Kock.
“Furthermore, as you know, my contract calls for the ongoing monitoring and managing of all replacements. I can’t predict the future actions of others, but I can commit to swift resolutions should any such instances occur.
“It’s also worth noting that my work in that regard is not just reactive. I put considerable effort into identifying introverted replacement candidates with extremely limited family and friend networks. That said, none of the replacements are actual ghosts, so the potential will always exist. Hence the ongoing contract.”
Pierce cleared his throat as David settled back into his chair. “I’d like to learn more about the tactics you’re employing to make the transitions work. I’m particularly interested in how you forestall family and law enforcement investigations?”
Tory brushed an imaginary hair off his shoulder before answering. Lisa didn’t know him well enough to gauge whether it was a subconscious tell or a conscious suppression tactic. “In each instance, I designed a con that got the replacements to first volunteer extensive background information and then relocate to a place where they had no family or friends. If you think about it, friendships are almost always tied to common geography. If a person isn’t family, then when they move, the connections wither and die.”
“You can’t count on that in the age of social media,” Pierce pressed.
“Correct, but people regularly back away from those platforms for other reasons. Facebook accounts are canceled all the time. Turning them off is a growing trend, given rising concerns about privacy, addiction, depression, and other related maladies. In a word, abandoning social media doesn’t raise red flags.”
While Pierce nodded along, David hopped back in. “Will you give us an example of one of your cons?”
Tory inclined his head. “Most recently, in your case as a matter of fact, I posed as a CIA recruiter. This allowed—”
“I get it,” David said. “That’s brilliant.”
“How do you find our doppelgängers in the first place?” Allison asked. “I’d think that would take an army of spies, but Felix insists that you work alone.”
Tory tilted his head the other way, but his facial expression didn’t change. “Twenty years ago, it would have taken an army to accomplish. Not today. Everyone we’re interested in has a broadband internet connection, and most are actively engaged with social media. These days, people constantly post videos and pictures of themselves. Particularly people in your age group and younger.
“To access and harvest that treasure trove, I contracted with a Russian company. They wrote a program that scours all the major American social media interfaces—and some government ones. It identifies matches for any face I upload. The software is sophisticated enough to ignore alterable characteristics, things like facial hair and blemishes, hairstyle, hair color, and eye color. It can even adjust for weight gains and losses, although I’ve never needed to use that feature.”
“But there’s more to it than matching appearances,” Allison pressed. “We need loners, and in some cases specific skill sets.”
“Indeed you do, and again the software comes through. As I mentioned, most of the matches come from social media sites or government databases. In both instances, profile data accompanies the photos, and with social media it’s also paired with posts. Once the software finds a photo it likes, it scans the accompanying documentation for helpful keywords.”
“Such as?”
“Words like relocation, depression, abandoned, and orphan. Please bear in mind, we’re dealing with enormous data pools. In any given five-year age band, there are approximately ten million American men and another ten million women. Seventy-two percent of them are Caucasian, like you. That means I get to select from among 7.2 million people who fit your basic demographic profile. That’s a lot of job candidates—all of whom have eyes, ears, and noses in roughly the same place you do.”
Lisa found herself chuckling along with her peers at Tory’s last remark but noted that Felix was busy surveying the room. No doubt he was happy to see the positive reaction to Tory’s presentation. Felix had recruited the consultant, and he managed him, so he shared in Tory’s successes and failures.