The End Game (A Brit in the FBI 3)

“It is, my friend. You’re aware of a group called COE?”

“Celebrants of Earth? Of course. Dorky name. They’ve been doing bad things, making you guys look like monkeys. Wow, I guess I’m now looking like a monkey, too, since I’m officially one of you. Are they behind the attack on the oil companies tonight?”

“You’ve heard about it?”

“Sure. The whole Net is buzzing. A Shamoon attack, was it?”

“No comment. Have you ever come across Gunther Ansell?”

Adam whistled. “The Blue Whale? Sure, everyone has. He does superior work, for an old guy. He’s what, thirty?”

“Yes, nearly ready for the glue factory. Adam, he’s dead, murdered.”

There was a long moment of dead silence, then, “All right, you’d better tell me all about it.”

Nicholas did. “I’ve got a request in for everything he was working on, maybe something’s there to nail COE. But I really don’t need it, I know COE. And I know they’ll need someone new to keep up the cyber-attacks.” He paused, waited. “Adam, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m trying to get my brain around this. Gunther, gone, it’s crazy, dude. So, Nicholas, you want me to offer my services to COE?”

“You’ll need to show them you’re better than their people, ah, and that you share their values and goals, which, at this moment, we’re no longer sure we know. They’d been so focused, and now they’ve switched gears, and I’m simply not sure if their fanatical hate is at the core of it now.”

“I do share some of their values, Nicholas.”

“Yes, I assume they hate the government, too, whi

ch makes you perfect for the job. Get in, Adam, and do it quickly. We need to stop them before more people are killed. We didn’t know until tonight with the cyber-attacks on the oil companies that they even had a hacker on board.”

“You said Gunther was killed three days ago. That means they’ve got to have someone already on the inside with enough smarts and know-how to implement his plan. I assume Gunther was killed because someone was afraid he’d talk?”

“Probably. Adam, you’re fresh and clean in cyberspace now. We’ve helped you establish a whole new identity. You can get into their organization from afar.”

There was a moment of silence, then Adam said, his voice formal, “I owe you my life, Agent Drummond. I’ll report in when I have news.”

Nicholas said, “Good, we all appreciate it. You know I can’t do it, I’d be outed immediately, and besides, I simply couldn’t give it enough time at this point. Adam, be sure to cover your tracks at every turn. Create a false trail, leave as much disruption behind as you can, and bread crumbs galore, so when we’re done, we can blow them out of the water. I’ve been working a backstop to verify the information—they will come searching for your credentials, and I promise you they will be watertight. And Adam? Hurry. We’re running out of time.”

“I hear you. I’ll be in touch.”

Adam hung up the phone and the e-mail dinged again—the legend Drummond created for him had arrived. It was distinctly criminal, with a number of outstanding hacks to the identity’s credit. Adam memorized everything, then started sending out feelers to COE. With luck, he’d find a way in tonight. A pity Nicholas couldn’t join him; it would be fun, the two of them fighting it out with the bad guys in cyberspace.

He quickly saw that every hacker with a keyboard was out and about, speculating about how COE had gotten past the oil companies’ firewalls. Adam didn’t see Gunther’s name once, which meant Drummond had been inside the hack himself, looking for the golden thread, shutting down any ties to the Blue Whale. He was impressed; Nicholas was nearly as good a hacker as he was. Well, perhaps he was better, since he was nearly old enough for Social Security himself, at least as old as Gunther had been. Adam would miss Gunther, a great talent, but he’d been sloppy and Nicholas had caught his signature.

Adam began whistling, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Tuesday

7 a.m.–2 p.m.

24

KNIGHT TAKES C3

Atlantic City, New Jersey

Zahir Damari—known to Matthew and his little group of ideologues, fanatics, and crazies as Darius, only Darius—drove his stolen Jeep into Atlantic City before sunrise. The ramshackle abandoned hotel where he was to meet his contact was two blocks off the main drag. There were no lights and the building was falling down. He heard rats scurrying around when his flashlight hit them.

Atlantic City was dying, and soon this whole country would collapse under greed and endless bureaucracy and people so contentious and self-interested that anything needful would never get done, no movement at all until it was too late.

It was too late now, far too late. He should know, since it was his job to give it a big push, and when he and Matthew finished, the U.S. would buckle and collapse under the pressure.