end of the hallway.
The biggest risk was Retro being found in the room. Jennifer, as a maid, could easily have talked her way out, but Retro would have some serious splainin’ to do, which is why I had given him a time limit.
Retro came by our position carrying a clipboard and a radio, looking like an important member of the hotel staff. He ignored us, and I waited on a SITREP of entry.
The seconds ticked by, then finally I heard, “Pike, I’m in and we have a problem. There are five CDs here. What do you want me to do?”
Retro had entered with a specially constructed portable compact-disc ripper, intending on working with a single CD. While getting whatever information was on the CD was great, what we really wanted to do was identify the guy’s boss. In addition to copying the CD, the ripper would implant a small Trojan horse. Whenever the CD was booted, the virus would reach out to the Internet and contact the Taskforce. From there, the hacking cell would exploit whatever they could find and hopefully identify the moneyman. After that, it was a US government call as to what would happen with the information. Maybe another Taskforce team would get Omega authority for the guy, but more than likely the information would be passed to the CIA for them to leverage with the Saudi liaison services. The problem here was that the ripper took fifteen minutes. With five CDs, Retro didn’t have time to complete the mission in the room.
I said, “Do they look like the blank CDs we have in the TOC?”
“Yeah, the CDs do, but the cases are different.”
I looked at Knuckles and said, “I’m sending Knuckles up to get them. Meet him in the elevator. Switch out the CDs and rip all of them in the TOC.”
Knuckles stood, finally with a grin on his face, a perverse sense of pleasure coming from the curveball, like it had happened because I’d sent Jennifer home.
Retro said, “But what if he comes back while I’m upstairs?”
“Is there a laptop in the room?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Don’t worry about it, then. He won’t check the CDs for information. It’s just eye candy so you can rip them.”
“Pike, I’ll still have to get back in here to replace the real CDs.”
“One step at a time.”
Retro passed by me moving at a good clip, was gone for a minute or two, then came back holding the blank CDs and disappeared down the hall. Knuckles returned in time to see him scurry by again with the target CDs in his hands, headed to the TOC on the twelfth floor.
Knuckles said, “There’s no way Jake’s going to work out for an hour and a half. What are you going to do if he returns?”
I said, “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Ten minutes later, the cursed bridge appeared. Decoy came on. “Jake’s headed back. He’s out of the gym.”
What? Who works out for twenty minutes?
With a bemused look, Knuckles said, “Maybe he forgot his iPod.”
I said, “Those CDs ended up being a blessing in disguise. If there had only been one, Retro would have been caught.”
We waited, and Jake didn’t reappear.
So much for the iPod.
I said, “What do you think?”
“Fire alarm. Trip that and get him to the lobby. That’ll be enough time.”
“Yeah . . . but we don’t know what their procedures are. They could come knocking on every door. Or simply reset it after five seconds.”
“Phone call? From the lobby using an internal landline?”
“What’ll we say?”
“Tell ’em that he has a package waiting. All we need is a few minutes to get back in the room. The elevator ride itself will be enough.”
I thought about the pros and cons. Tripping the fire alarm would garner a lot of attention and would force us to vacate our surveillance positions. But the biggest problem was that we just didn’t know what the official reaction would be. On the other hand, the phone call would make Jake suspicious because he wasn’t expecting a package, then grow more so when there was nothing
The biggest risk was Retro being found in the room. Jennifer, as a maid, could easily have talked her way out, but Retro would have some serious splainin’ to do, which is why I had given him a time limit.
Retro came by our position carrying a clipboard and a radio, looking like an important member of the hotel staff. He ignored us, and I waited on a SITREP of entry.
The seconds ticked by, then finally I heard, “Pike, I’m in and we have a problem. There are five CDs here. What do you want me to do?”
Retro had entered with a specially constructed portable compact-disc ripper, intending on working with a single CD. While getting whatever information was on the CD was great, what we really wanted to do was identify the guy’s boss. In addition to copying the CD, the ripper would implant a small Trojan horse. Whenever the CD was booted, the virus would reach out to the Internet and contact the Taskforce. From there, the hacking cell would exploit whatever they could find and hopefully identify the moneyman. After that, it was a US government call as to what would happen with the information. Maybe another Taskforce team would get Omega authority for the guy, but more than likely the information would be passed to the CIA for them to leverage with the Saudi liaison services. The problem here was that the ripper took fifteen minutes. With five CDs, Retro didn’t have time to complete the mission in the room.
I said, “Do they look like the blank CDs we have in the TOC?”
“Yeah, the CDs do, but the cases are different.”
I looked at Knuckles and said, “I’m sending Knuckles up to get them. Meet him in the elevator. Switch out the CDs and rip all of them in the TOC.”
Knuckles stood, finally with a grin on his face, a perverse sense of pleasure coming from the curveball, like it had happened because I’d sent Jennifer home.
Retro said, “But what if he comes back while I’m upstairs?”
“Is there a laptop in the room?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Don’t worry about it, then. He won’t check the CDs for information. It’s just eye candy so you can rip them.”
“Pike, I’ll still have to get back in here to replace the real CDs.”
“One step at a time.”
Retro passed by me moving at a good clip, was gone for a minute or two, then came back holding the blank CDs and disappeared down the hall. Knuckles returned in time to see him scurry by again with the target CDs in his hands, headed to the TOC on the twelfth floor.
Knuckles said, “There’s no way Jake’s going to work out for an hour and a half. What are you going to do if he returns?”
I said, “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Ten minutes later, the cursed bridge appeared. Decoy came on. “Jake’s headed back. He’s out of the gym.”
What? Who works out for twenty minutes?
With a bemused look, Knuckles said, “Maybe he forgot his iPod.”
I said, “Those CDs ended up being a blessing in disguise. If there had only been one, Retro would have been caught.”
We waited, and Jake didn’t reappear.
So much for the iPod.
I said, “What do you think?”
“Fire alarm. Trip that and get him to the lobby. That’ll be enough time.”
“Yeah . . . but we don’t know what their procedures are. They could come knocking on every door. Or simply reset it after five seconds.”
“Phone call? From the lobby using an internal landline?”
“What’ll we say?”
“Tell ’em that he has a package waiting. All we need is a few minutes to get back in the room. The elevator ride itself will be enough.”
I thought about the pros and cons. Tripping the fire alarm would garner a lot of attention and would force us to vacate our surveillance positions. But the biggest problem was that we just didn’t know what the official reaction would be. On the other hand, the phone call would make Jake suspicious because he wasn’t expecting a package, then grow more so when there was nothing
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