The God's Eye View (30 page)

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47

E
vie looked around as the cab pulled away, fighting the feeling they were being watched. It was true that the senior center was a “nexus,” as Marvin had put it, and they might be able to connect her to it. But so what? Even if NSA was monitoring taxi dispatches—and at this point she assumed they were monitoring everything—they’d have to parse a lot of data if all they had to go on was that she had taken a cab to BWI. And tracking her in a new cab from the airport, where she planned to catch another one at the curb, would be even harder.

What about Marvin? Could he have followed you?

No. Marvin had been asleep when they’d left. And she’d checked
behind them on the way to the senior center, more than once. There had
been no one. All right, she was just feeling jumpy. Not exactly a surprise.

What about your camera network?

That might be more of a problem. She assumed they had made it a p
riority to get someone else up to speed on the network’s operation so they had as many tools as possible devoted to running her down. She knew she couldn’t stay ahead of them forever, or even for long. In the twenty-first century, people threw off data like dead skin cells. And sooner or later, some of those dead cells would get sucked into the maw of the colossal vacuum the director’s “collect it all” fever dream had conjured into being. But “collect it all” entailed one weakness—one Achilles’ heel amid all those torrents of raw data. And that weakness was latency.

You could collect it all, yes. But understanding what you’d collected took time. Maybe not a lot of time—look how fast she’d discovered Hamilton and Perkins, after all, and how fast the organization had acted on that discovery—but a little time was all she needed. The trick was to keep moving, and be careful, and most of all, to get the thumb drive to Leed as soon as possible. So that by the time the director’s God’s Eye saw what was happening, it would already be too late to do anything about it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were getting out of the cab in the BWI departures lane. She tipped the driver well, but not so well that the tip itself would make her memorable. She was starting to get low on cash, which wasn’t good. It wasn’t like she could go to an ATM, after all, or use a credit card. But with luck, this would be over very soon.

They went inside. Dash looked around and signed,
Mommy, I don’t get it. Are we flying somewhere? Where’s Mr. Manus?

She ruffled his hair.
There’s so much to explain, hon, and I don’t have time right now. It’s a kind of scavenger hunt. And Mr. Manus is helping.

A scavenger hunt? I thought that was just a kid thing.

She smiled.
Grown-ups do different kinds of scavenger hunts. For this one, it’s really important that I win. And if we hurry, I think I could.

There’s a prize?

A big one.

What is it?

Well, remember how happy you were when Mr. Manus gave you the game ball?

Dash nodded, smiling at the memory.

Well, it’s worth at least that much.

What?

I need to make a call first. Tell you in just a little while, okay?

He nodded and looked around again.
Mommy, I’m tired.

She kissed the top of his head.
I bet you are. You are doing so well and being such a big help.

How am I helping you?

For a moment, she had to fight back tears.
Hon, you help me in ways I don’t think I could ever explain. But you’ll understand one day.

He gave her an affectionate scowl.
You always say stuff like that.

She kissed him again.
Only it’s because it’s true.

They walked over to an unused baggage carousel. Dash sat on the floor and settled into one of the comics she had bought him. Keeping her back to the wall, Evie activated the prepaid phone and called the number Leed had given her via SecureDrop. One ring, then a woman’s voice, slightly husky and reassuringly confident: “Hello?”

She suddenly realized she didn’t know what to say. “I . . . got your message.”

“Do you have the item we discussed?”

“Yes.”

“And can you meet as we discussed?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “I wish I had some way of knowing you are who you say you are.”

“I gave you the bona fides in my message. About your daughter. Our friend told me that would be enough.”

“I would describe those bona fides as necessary, but not sufficient. I have a whole team of smart lawyers here telling me not to take this meeting. Warning me this could be the government, trying to entrap me into accepting information it will then claim is stolen, so they can do a Julian Assange to me and the organization I work with.”

“And what did you say to them?”

“That I owed it to our employee to take that chance. That I wouldn’t be worth a damn as the head of the organization if I played it any other way.”

“They probably told you the government would know you’d feel that way, and exploit it.”

“That’s exactly what they told me.”

It was frightening. Could this woman really blow her off, when they were so close? “Look,” she said, “if you won’t meet me, if you won’t take the item I have, your employee . . . I don’t think he’s going to make it. And I don’t think I’m going to make it, either. And I have a child who depends on me. So, apologies for playing the guilt card, but I want you to know that when you read about my having been raped and murdered in some apparently ‘random’ crime, that’s one of the things you could have prevented.”

No response. Evie tried to wait, but couldn’t. “You know,” she said, “I’d really like to do this in whatever way most keeps me out of it. I never intended to get mixed up with any of this, and all I want to do right now is get you what your employee wanted to get you himself. But if you won’t meet me securely, then fine, I’ll take my chances marching into your damn offices.”

“Don’t you think I wish we could just bring you in? We can’t. We’re heavily watched. On any given day, we have one to three ‘maintenance’ vans parked in the area. Well, for the last forty-eight hours, it’s more like six. Not to mention all the new gardeners, and telephone-line repair people, and delivery people. Maybe you could just pull up and try to sprint inside. And maybe they’d tackle you en route. Or just follow you in and arrest you on the premises. It’s not a high-percentage option.”

Evie felt a jolt of hope. “Then you believe me?”

Another pause. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to.”

Evie blew out a long breath. “Okay. Good. Look, traffic is light right now. I can be at the meeting place in an hour.”

“It’ll take me a little longer. I have to take some pretty elaborate precautions to ensure I’m not being tailed. You need to do the same. There are some quiet neighborhoods not far from where we’ll be meeting. Use them. It’ll be hard for anyone to follow you when there isn’t any traffic to hide in.”

“We don’t have that much time. Your guy is going to call you soon, remember? And you need to be able to tell him you have the item or he won’t tell you what you need to use it.”

“Okay then, let’s meet in ninety minutes. That should give us a few minutes extra just in case. If you’re followed, if you see anything or anyone that doesn’t feel right, abort. We’ll go back online and figure something else out.”

“Okay,” Evie said, feeling an odd combination of relief and nervousness. “Oh, and that child I mentioned? He’ll be with me. Just don’t want you to be surprised. I guess that’ll make it easy for you to know who I am.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not leaving him alone until this is done.”

“Up to you. The phone you’re on now . . . can you take out the battery?”

“I’m just going to leave it here. Probably someone will pick it up and carry it off. And hopefully take anyone who might be geolocating on a long, wild goose chase.”

“Good idea. You won’t be able to reach me at this number, either.”

Evie felt a sudden surge of nervousness and blew out a long breath, trying to manage it. “Okay. See you in ninety minutes. Let’s get this done.”

Manus kept the truck idling at the curb in the arrivals lane, at the end of a long row of incoming and outgoing cars and taxis. He hadn’t anticipated that the woman would come to the airport. She had good instincts. He had no way to follow her in without abandoning his truck in the departures lane. And once she was inside the airport, she had a lot of options. There was Amtrak, the MARC train, and the light rail train. Not to mention numerous buses, sedans, and taxis.

He didn’t expect her to fly anywhere—there was too much scrutiny of passengers for that to make sense. And a rental car would require identification, as well. So he was left to try to get in her head again, to anticipate her next move. She was smart, but not experienced. She was in a hurry. She was afraid of cameras. And he doubted she wanted to be around lots of other passengers—a woman with a small deaf boy would be too easy a description to follow.

She’d taken two cabs already. She was clearly comfortable with that mode of transport. His gut told him she was going to use it again. So he drove around to the arrivals area and waited, hoping his intuition was sound. If it wasn’t, he’d lost her.

A traffic cop came by and knocked on the window. Manus rolled it down. The man said, “You can’t park here, sir. Passenger pick-up only. No waiting.”

Manus was prepared for this. He pulled out government-issued FBI identification. He’d used it many times in similar circumstances, and always to magic effect.

It worked this time, as well. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” the traffic cop said, instantly deferential to the big, bad Bureau. “I didn’t realize. I’ll, uh, make sure you’re not disturbed.”

Manus nodded his thanks and the man went away. But as it happened, it made no difference. Because there they were, Evie and Dash, getting into a cab at the front of the line. Manus nodded grimly to himself and pulled out a moment after the cab did.

When they got out of that cab, Manus would move in. He hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. But he was going to get that thumb drive. They were all dead if he didn’t.

CHAPTER
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48

R
emar felt like a man who’d stepped on a merry-go-round that was now spinning so fast and wobbling so hard he couldn’t get off it. He and the director hadn’t left the building all night. Hadn’t slept. An aide was funneling in food and coffee while they ran the director’s office like some kind of wartime command center.

They’d diverted just about every far-flung supercomputer, every bit of processing power they had, to God’s Ear—already the biggest data take in the history of intelligence collection, and now substantially augmented by the feed from the JLENS blimps and the CIA/Marshals program. Amazingly, it seemed to be working. They had picked up Gallagher’s voice calling from a landline located at the nursing home where her father was cared for. They’d looked more closely, and someone had accessed an online baseball game from the facility’s IP address. It turned out Gallagher’s son had an account—further confirmation that the voice they’d picked up had been Gallagher’s. She had called a cab, and they were scrambling to track it when they’d picked up her voice again, calling from a prepaid unit at BWI, bought not twenty minutes earlier at the Walmart just outside the damned NSA campus. Remar had already sent units to BWI. He supposed they might get lucky, but he had a feeling Gallagher was too smart to stay there. Still, they were getting closer. The first intercepted call had taken nearly a half hour to process. But the confirmation had enabled them to filter out a lot of background noise, and they nailed the second call less than ten minutes after it had actually happened. A little more time, and just a little luck, Remar thought, and the next time they picked up Gallagher’s voice, they’d be right on top of her.

The door to the inner office opened and the director strode out. “Manus,” he said. “I told you.”

He showed Remar his phone. There was a text message:
I’m on her. I’ll get you the thumb drive. And make her promise never to tell. But you have to promise not to hurt her. Or the boy.

There was a reply. It said,
If you can make her promise, then I promise. Yes.

“Burner,” the director said. “But it’s Manus. Geolocated at BWI. He’s following them.”

“Are you tracking him now?”

“No. He pulled the battery.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He isn’t certain. He wants to do this on his own terms. But I told you. He still believes we’re all on the same team.”

Remar nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “A dangerous error in judgment.”

“Yes, well, let’s not make one of our own. Stay on the woman. If we can get to her before Manus does, so much the better. Eliminate the middleman.”

He returned to his office, closing the door behind him.

Remar’s secure line buzzed. He looked and saw it was Jones. He picked up and said, “Vernon. How are we doing on that local detachment?”

“I got four handpicked door kickers locked and loaded and waiting in your very parking lot. Hard men who will do as they are told with no questions. But you don’t get to use them until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Mike, a bullshitter knows a bullshitter. What’s this new bomb threat I’m hearing about?”

“Terrorist chatter. Just taking precautions.”

“Terrorist chatter my ass. That horseshit is what we feed to the morons running the six o’clock nightly news to give the rubes a sense of meaning and make them think we’re on top of things we in fact know nothing of. Are you trying to insult my intelligence?”

“No,” Remar said. “Anyone who did that would have to be stupid himself.”

“And you’re not stupid, Mike.”

“I’ve never thought so before.”

There was a pause while Jones absorbed that. “Is something different now?”

Remar looked over at the closed door to the director’s office. It was time. Past time.

He sighed and said, “You and I need to talk.”