BRAINRUSH, a Thriller (26 page)

“All my life. He is our chieftain, our
sheikh
.”

Jake whirled at this tidbit. He sat down in the wide reading chair to get eye level with the boy. “Ahmed, we need to talk.”

Ahmed didn’t hesitate. Talking was one of his favorite things to do. He spoke nonstop, telling them of his village high in the mountains of Afghanistan, of his friends making fun of him because he was different, all except Rajid, Battista’s son. Rajid protected him from the other boys, taking him under his wing almost as if it were his sacred obligation as next in line to be the tribal leader. They’d become inseparable friends, until the day of Rajid’s seizure. Ahmed’s friend, his protector, left on a helicopter for Kandahar. He never returned. Battista later explained that Rajid would spend the rest of his days at a special hospital. It was Allah’s will.

Ahmed paused for a moment before he continued. He pointed to the wall of glyphs and said, “That’s the secret cavern. None of the other children were permitted to go there. It’s holy.” Ahmed’s thumb and forefinger on his right hand were unconsciously flicking at his side, spinning an imaginary object in the air. He said, “But Rajid knew the tunnels. And he took me. The other boys couldn’t tease me there. They were too afraid of getting caught. But Rajid and I played there all the time, hiding from the soldiers.”

Jake and Tony exchanged worried glances. “Soldiers?” Jake asked.

“Warriors of Allah. There are lots of them. They live there. In the tunnels.”

From the other office, Marshall shouted, “I found it!”

Jake, Tony, and Ahmed hurried into the room and circled around the back of Battista’s desk. Lacey said, “Marshall meant to say
we
found it.”

“Anyway,” Marshall said with an exasperated shrug, “there are still a lot of encrypted files that
we
haven’t gotten into yet, but by tracking the institute’s purchase orders, we found a long list of items being shipped over the past several years to a distribution center in the city of Mazar-e-Sharif in northeastern Afghanistan. From there it’s being picked up by truck. We still haven’t identified the final location.”

Jake turned to Ahmed. “Can you show us where your village is on a map?”

Ahmed scowled. “From Mazar-e-Sharif, it takes eight hours to get there in a truck. It’s a bumpy ride.”

Marshall smiled. “Well, then, one problem solved.” He motioned to Lacey to scroll down the list on the screen. There was page after page of items. “We’re talking about a lot of stuff here—  computers, building materials, a ton of high-end lab equipment, beds, food, medicine, not to mention the weapons. They’ve got enough here to outfit an extensive R&D lab, a well-equipped medical clinic, and a small army.”

Jake knuckled his eyes. Around every turn there seemed to be a dozen more obstacles. He shook his head and looked over at Mario, a sullen heap on the couch. He thought of Francesca and Sarafina, huddled and frightened thousands of miles from home. Giving up wasn’t an option. But what could they do? 

Jake looked at each of his friends. Marshall bandaged and hurting, but still prepared to move forward. Lacey was at his side, eager and competent in ways Jake would not have imagined. And Tony, steadfast and determined. Each of them ready to follow his lead.

Watching Jake, Marshall said, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, we’re going to need a lot of help. We’ve got to call the authorities.”

“But who do we call?” Jake said, looking to Tony.

Tony scratched the stubble on his chin. “The local PD doesn’t have jurisdiction on the kidnapping, and the Italian federal police are gonna drown us in so much red tape that it’ll be months before any kind of a rescue operation would be mounted.”

Jake gave Tony a knowing look. “What about hired help?”

Tony thought about it a moment. “We’d need a highly experienced infiltration team. A small group for a quick smash and grab. I’m not talking about slouches here. They gotta be seasoned pros, the toughest badasses in the business. We’d have to be in and out of there before anyone knew what was going on. That means advanced intel, overhead imagery and surveillance, state-of-the-art equipment, the works. Not to mention one hell of a thorough plan.”

Jake placed his hand on the top of Ahmed’s head. “We can get a lot of our intel right here. Ahmed, you can give us the layout inside the caverns, right?”

Ahmed nodded. “Easy.”

“Tony, where would we get the kind of team you’re talking about?”

“This is crazy, man,” Marshall interjected. “This kind of an operation would cost a friggin’ fortune.”

Jake waved away Marshall’s concern, his focus still on Tony. “Forget about the money. Could you put together a team?”

Tony never talked much about his ops background. Most of it was classified. After twelve years of clandestine ops, he’d been on several teams that were the kind Jake was talking about. Jake knew his buddy was still connected to that world.

Tony said, “For something like this, there’s only one option.”

“What?” Jake asked.

“Not what, but who,” Tony said. “A guy I know, let’s leave it at that. But he could put the team together, arrange for the equipment, everything—a one-stop shop of mayhem, if you catch my drift. But Marshall’s right, we’re talking huge bucks—five or six million euros, minimum. Hell, it could be double that to get the best guys available. Where are we gonna get that kinda cash?”

Marshall added, “Even if we had the money, we still have a major problem.” He pointed to an item listed on the computer screen. “You see that? That is the newest generation Zodar security system. It was designed by a consortium of some of the top hackers in the world to make it virtually impregnable. I know one of the guys on the team that built it, and believe me, there’s no way to penetrate it from the outside. The only way into that system is by sitting at one of the inside terminals.”

Glancing down at Ahmed, Jake sorted through the genesis of a plan. It was a wild-ass plan, to be sure. But was it possible? Maybe, with his new talents…“Suppose I could get to one of the terminals. Could you teach me what to do to get around the system?”

Marshall studied Jake. “You know, if you had asked me that question a week ago, I would have just laughed my ass off and ordered another beer. But now, with that new processor you’ve got between your ears? Yeah, I think we could do it. I’d have to create a specially prepped flash drive that you could plug into the terminal. With the flash in place, and if we do a little work on your typing skills, we could backdoor it in less than a minute or two. After that, you can walk away, and as long as the flash drive remains plugged in, I should have full access to the security system from an outside terminal.”

Tony said, “When you say full access, whad’ya mean?”

“The works. I see what they see:  video surveillance, alarm monitoring, fire suppressions, PA system, everything.”

Mario joined their close-knit circle, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Tony pressed on with Marshall. “Can you do more than just watch? Can you manipulate the system, like shutting down parts of the perimeter alarm or videocams?”

“Sure. But that’s where it gets tricky. As long as I remain a passive observer, there’s no problem. But once I start changing things, they’re going to know something’s up. It will take them a little while to isolate where the trigger device is located, but once they do, we’ll be locked out.”

“Once you go active, how much time before they find the flash?”

“Ten minutes, tops.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. “That could be enough.” He looked from Jake to Ahmed. “If we had accurate intel...”

Jake patted Ahmed on the shoulder. “No problem.”

Lacey said, “But Jake, we don’t have six million euros. So what’s the point?”

“She’s right,” Tony said. “And we have an even bigger problem than the money.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, we probably broke a dozen laws last night by taking matters into our own hands and storming the palace with guns blazing. People were killed.”

Damn it, Jake thought. And the federal police would be here soon. “We gotta get the hell outta here.”

“Ya think?” Tony said. “But the ground floor’s swarmin’ with cops.”

Jake turned to Mario, but he was already on his cell phone. He held up his index finger, indicating he needed a second. He issued a hushed order in Italian and slammed the phone closed. “A boat will be waiting at the back entrance in five minutes.” 

Jake snapped out instructions. “Lacey, unplug Battista’s computer. We’re taking it with us. Tony, you’ll need to subdue the guard posted outside the door. I’m going to pull the blowups of all those glyphs off the wall in the other room.” Something told him that deciphering their meaning was critical.

In spite of the urgency of Jake’s words, nobody moved. They glanced back and forth between one another, as if they wondered if Jake was losing it.

Lacey asked, “But what about the money?”

Jake clapped his hands together to snap them out of it. In the same instant, he blinked his eyes at a pile of papers on the desk, grabbing them with his mind and flinging them into the air as though a gust of wind had blown them. Then he focused on the light switch and snapped the lights off and on a couple of times. “Move! I’ll explain on the way.”

They moved. Fast.

The Principality of Monaco

M
onaco—playground of the jetset elite. The tiny cliffside principality is only three kilometers long and sits on a large rock named Mont des Mules overlooking the sea. The twists and turns of its steep streets are lined with quaint shops, restaurants, and hotels. And in the center of it all sits the Grand Casino de Monte Carlo. Just the name conjures visions of glamour and wealth, a place for the rich and famous to see and be seen.

Jake leaned against the rail of the third-floor balcony off a room at the quaint Hotel Ambassador, situated just a short stroll away from the casino’s square. The picturesque sheltered harbor was spread out in front of him, the full moon low on the horizon spilling a rippling highway of sparkles on the black water. Deck lights illuminated several of the luxury yachts and cruisers that lined the famous cove.

In his mind’s eye, Jake pictured James Bond skimming across the water in a speedboat, on his way to save the world with the help of a drop-dead gorgeous Russian girl with pouty lips who couldn’t resist his charms. Bond is wearing his signature evening attire—jet black pants, white dinner jacket, white shirt with gold cuff links, black bow tie, and a smile that could weaken the knees of a prima ballerina.

Jake pulled the cuffs of his pleated white shirt. Yep, he had the outfit, thanks to Lacey’s shopping spree this afternoon. And with Lacey dressed to the nines in her low-cut, black cocktail dress, he’d even have the gorgeous girl on his arm. But matching that cocky Bond smile just wasn’t going to happen, not while Francesca and Sarafina were locked up somewhere. Or worse.

  Another Maserati drove by on the cobbled street beneath him. Limos and expensive cars were as common around here as jeweled chihuahuas in Beverly Hills. Money seemed to ooze from the streets in this town.  

Jake glanced into the room. Ahmed was sitting on an overstuffed chair in the mini-suite’s living area, listening intently as Tony huddled in a corner on the phone with his mercenary contact. The boy had grown attached to Tony on the six-hour drive from Venice, the two of them talking easily in Dari. Tony had been on the phone for nearly half an hour, checking off items from the two-page list he’d put together. The conversation had grown heated.

“I don’t give a shit what it takes, Karl. It still needs to get done in less than twenty-four hours and it’s gotta be first-string only.” After a short pause, he said, “Yeah, I’ll wire the money before sunrise. You know I’m good for it. Just do it, man. I’m counting on you.” He hung up the phone and joined Jake on the balcony.

Tony shook his head. “Brother, I hope you know what you’re doin’. I got my neck stretched out a mile. If we don’t come up with the dough by tomorrow morning, I’ll be in some deep shit.”

Trying to sound more certain than he felt, Jake said, “I’ve got it under control.”

“I sure as hell hope so. Because if you can’t turn that thousand-euro stake into millions before morning, then I’m gonna get hunted down by some very bad dudes and this whole rescue mission is down the crapper.”

Jake stretched his neck from side to side trying to loosen his bunched-up muscles. Tony was right. Everything hinged on his crazy scheme. Francesca, Sarafina, his friends—all of them at risk and depending on him. What was he thinking? How the hell was he going to pull this off?

Jake was startled when Lacey slipped in behind him, slid her hands up the back of his dinner jacket, and squeezed the muscles on either side of his neck. With a sultry Russian accent, she said, “Don’t pay any attention to him, Mr. Bond. He obviously doesn’t appreciate your unique talents.”

Jake had to smile. He and Tony turned around to face her. 

Lacey spun in a classic model turn. Her long blond hair caressed her bare shoulders with a silky shimmer. A dainty, jeweled gecko clung to the curve of one ear, setting off her sparkling blue eyes. A thin, silver snake coiled around her wrist and up her forearm; its tiny emerald eyes stared adoringly up at her. Her scoop-back, silk cocktail dress flowed over her curves like black oil, leaving little to the imagination.