Point of Contact

“If it was so important, why didn’t you download and copy it?”

Jack had been wondering the same thing. Why didn’t Paul download it? It seemed an obvious thing to do, and Paul was a sharp guy. Did he really just forget, or was it intentional?

Hell, maybe Paul’s the one that deleted the file, Jack realized.

“I guess we blew it. But I promise you I’m going to keep digging until I find it.”

“Good, that’s your job.”

“Agreed.” Jack stood to leave.

“I’ll warn you once, Jack. If I catch you doing anything illegal, I’ll have you arrested.” She smiled. “Nothing personal.”

“Yeah.” Jack started to leave, then turned around. “You said that you were going to run those Aussie IDs past a friend of yours in the PD. What did you find?”

“Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you. Two of them have been released from hospital and deported. The third is still in hospital but scheduled to be released and deported tomorrow. All three have criminal records in Australia — mostly petty crimes, a few dropped assault charges — but no evidence of IC or military status.”

“So we just got lucky and were jumped by the only three criminals in Singapore?”

“They were here illegally, too. Hooligans, the lot of them.” She paused, then added, “Good riddance.”

“Is ‘Good riddance’ for them or me?”

Lian smiled. “Good day, Mr. Ryan.”

55

Paul turned to Bai. “Why don’t you go use Jack’s phone next door and call your mother, make sure she’s okay, then go and get us a couple of hot coffees.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

Bai shrugged. “C’mon, Mr. Brown. You know my job is to keep an eye on you.”

“I’ve been a big threat, haven’t I? Doing all kinds of crazy things.”

Bai smiled. “No, not really.”

“But this storm is a problem, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m worried about my mother.”

“Then go call her on Jack’s phone over there. Make sure she’s okay. And if she is, why don’t you run to the kitchen and fetch us a couple of hot coffees and something sweet? I won’t leave here, I promise. Okay?”

Paul watched the wheels turning behind Bai’s eyes. Finally he said, “Okay. Cream and sugar, right?”

“Plenty of both. Thanks.”

Bai stepped over to Jack’s office and dialed his mother as Paul logged on to his Dalfan desktop computer and opened his hard drive.

Paul watched Bai’s animated gesturing through the glass as he spoke with his mother over the phone. An argument of some sort, Paul guessed. Bai was completely distracted by his conversation with his mother, so Paul used the opportunity to pull up the CIA file on his laptop.

As soon as Bai hung up the phone and headed for the break room, Paul pulled out his Dalfan USB drive from his desk and loaded it onto his laptop. The USB drive icon appeared on his screen. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Thirty seconds later, a file labeled BIGDADDYG appeared on his laptop.

Paul ejected the Dalfan USB and replaced it with his CIA drive, smuggled in his left shoe and fetched out in the bathroom earlier. He dragged BIGDADDYG onto it.

According to Gavin, that was it. The CIA drive could now be loaded onto a Dalfan computer. All he had to do was install it into the Dalfan desktop computer and type in his passcode when prompted, and the mission would be complete — in thirty seconds or less.

Paul gripped the CIA drive between his thumb and index finger and pointed it at the USB port on the Dalfan computer. Just as the silver tongue of the USB drive was about to seat in the port, Paul stopped. He checked to make sure Bai was still gone, then opened his laptop back up. He pulled up the CIA file and opened the file folder, then drilled down into the files, digging deeper until he opened up the lines of code. He read them like a Talmudic scholar, his eyes raking over the numbers and letters, mumbling to himself as he read along.

And then he saw it. A familiar line, connected to another, and another.

“Holy schnikes,” he whispered. “No way.” He wished to God he could call Gavin and show him this. Incredible.

And incredibly dangerous.

“What the hell is that?” a voice said.

Paul glanced up, stunned by the voice. It was Yong, his face hard as flint. He pointed at the lines of code on Paul’s screen.

Paul swallowed hard. “This?”

Yong stepped closer, furious. “Yes. That.”

JAKARTA, INDONESIA

Sania Masood sat at her workstation in her private office, curtains drawn, door closed. She studied the screen in front of her, but her mind was on the package in her drawer. It was nearly noon.

Her phone rang. She picked up.

“Deep Convection Analysis.”

“Have you opened the package yet?”

Masood smiled. She recognized the man’s voice. “The instructions said to wait until noon.”

“Yes, I know. But please, do it now, while I’m on the phone.”

“As you wish.”