The Special Agent Jana Baker Spy-Thriller Series

Decrypting the Data

22

Decrypting the Data

“Well find them, dammit!” Stone barked into the radio. He broke into a run doing his best to weave in and out of people on the sidewalk in front of him, but then remembered that Jana was wearing the tiny tracker device. As long as she was outdoors, he could find her location. He pulled out his phone and opened the app. “We’re okay. I show her taking a left on Fifth. They’re headed right where they said they were, to Jeffrey Dima’s building. We need to put eyes on them immediately. And when you reacquire, don’t lose sight of them again.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply from one of the mobile surveillance specialists as he panted, trying to catch his breath. A few moments later, the specialist said, “Six, six, this is mobile three. We’ve got her in visual. Heading down Fifth. Hold on, six . . . looks like, yes, looks like they’re entering a nightclub. The Forty-Forty Club. It’s an upscale place at the bottom of the 10 Madison Square West building.”

“Roger that, mobile three. Don’t make it obvious, but get in that club and observe. I don’t want her alone with that thug unless we can see what’s going on.”

“Ah, sir?” mobile three replied, “that might be kind of a problem.”

“And why is that?”

“That’s an exclusive club, sir. Members only. I’ll never get inside there without drawing attention.”

“s**t,” Stone said to Agent Fry. “I don’t want her alone.”

“Stone,” Fry said, “this is part of the deal. She’s already committed to going to the guy’s penthouse, where she knows we can’t listen in. This nightclub isn’t as dangerous as when she goes upstairs. It might be a members-only club, but it’s a public place. He isn’t going to harm her in there.”

“I hear you, but dammit, if anything happens to that girl . . .”

“Jesus, to listen to you, you’d think it was your daughter we’re talking about.”

Stone picked up his pace again. “My daughter? My daughter? No s**t, Fry. I guess you didn’t notice what Jana’s birth date was. What am I talking about? You wouldn’t know the significance anyway.”

“Her birth date? What about it?”

“October nineteenth, 1986,” Stone replied as he sidestepped a woman pulling a rolling suitcase up the sidewalk.

“What’s October nineteenth?”

Stone paused a few moments. “It’s my daughter’s birthday, to the exact day and year.”

Fry’s gaze trailed off into the distance. “Your daughter . . . I didn’t know you had kids.”

“My son is twenty-four now. My Jennifer . . . we called her Jenna, was born on October nineteenth, 1986, same day as Jana Baker,” Stone swallowed a lump in his throat. “She was a preemie, though. Only one and a half pounds. She was a fighter. Toughest little thing I ever saw. She was only with us nine months before . . .”

“God, I’m sorry,” Fry said. “You never told me. Listen, Stone, I know you’ve gotten close to Jana. But look at me, she’s going to be all right.”

“Thanks, man, but I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

“There are twelve of us on-site here. That’s a lot of guns. We’re going to do everything we can to keep her safe.”

“Mobile two, three, four, and five are all in position,” barked Stone’s radio.

“Roger that,” Stone said into the mic. “I don’t care that we can’t laser-mic the penthouse. I want two sets of eyes in the building across the street. We still might be able to see through the glass.”

“This is mobile two. Roger that, sir. And, sir? I’m familiar with Jeffrey Dima’s building. Be advised, the subjects won’t have to exit the club if they intend on going up to the penthouse. The club is enormous. It takes up much of the first floor of this building. There’s an entrance from inside the building lobby to the club, and an elevator right there.”

Stone again spoke into the mic. “Mobile two, you seem awfully familiar with the layout of this building.”

“Been here before, sir. Back when we were assigned to surveil the CEO, Rune Dima. He lives here too.”

“Both cousins live in the same building? How convenient,” Stone said to Fry.

Fry replied, “Right. Rune is a floor below Jeffrey. Sorry, never mentioned the fact that they live in the same place.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stone said. “But it is kind of odd, isn’t it? I mean, the fact that the CEO of the company lives in a less expensive place than the CFO.” Then into his mic, he said, “Roger that, mobile two. Rune Dima is not our target. You just focus on Jeffrey. And put a unit inside the lobby. Tell him to talk his way past the doorman. I want to know when the subjects hit that elevator.” Stone lowered the mic then closed his eyes and thought about his next tactical decision. “Fry, is our Enhanced Special Weapons and Tactics team in position?”

“It’s not an enhanced unit, just the standard SWAT team out of the Manhattan field office. But yes, they’re in place. We’ve got them split into two minivans, parked on opposite corners of Madison Square Park right now.”

“Why the hell didn’t they send the enhanced unit? Dammit, I specifically said I wanted Enhanced SWAT.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger. You know as well as I do that there are only nine enhanced units in the bureau, and one of them is deployed overseas at the moment. The director holds them and all hostage rescue teams in reserve for counter-terrorism operations, and you know it.”

“And what the hell does he call this? Rune and Jeffrey Dima are known terrorists.”

“Other than the communiqués with Al-Jawary, and the obvious fact that they’re almost certainly in possession of insider trading information, we have nothing on them. If the director thought they were about to attack the United States, he’d send us one of the enhanced teams, a team from FBI Hostage Rescue, a couple of Navy SEALs, and even my mother-in-law. But as it stands, we have squat to offer him.”

“All right, all right. I just expected more firepower, that’s all.” Stone smirked. “Your mother-in-law? She’s a piece of work, huh?”

“Don’t get me started,” Agent Fry replied.

“So wait, the SWAT team is sitting in a couple of minivans?”

“Yeah, you wanted us to blend in and not be seen, remember?”

Stone looked through a compact set of binoculars toward the entrance to The 40/40 Club. “So where did we get ahold of minivans? We don’t have anything like that in the motor pool.”

“To be honest, I only know where one of them came from.”

“Which was?” Stone said, still focusing through the binoculars.

“It’s that guy the director talks to at NSA. It’s his wife’s.”

“Bill Tarleton? You’re telling me that the guy known as Uncle Bill lent his wife’s minivan to us for this operation? Boy, the director is really calling in favors.”

“Oh, it gets better. Uncle Bill is apparently driving it himself. He’s here, parked just behind the building.”

“He’s here?” Stone pulled the binoculars away from his face and looked at Fry. “He’s a directory head, or a section chief, or some other such thing at the National Security Agency. What the hell is he doing here with my SWAT team?”

“Remember, he and FBI Director Latent were roommates at Georgetown. They’ve known each other for years. And something else—Bill Tarleton has apparently been chewing Latent’s ear off about what he believes to be a pending attack. Uncle Bill insisted on being on-site here to decrypt the data as soon as Miss Baker gets her hands on it.”

“How is it that I wasn’t told about this?”

“You assigned me to relay info back and forth with Director Latent to keep him up to speed on the case. Guess it slipped my mind, Boss. Sorry.”

Stone put the binoculars back to his face and again focused on the entrance to the club. “Slipped your mind? Hmmm, I wonder what might have slipped my mind recently. What was it that crossed my desk last week? Let me think. Oh yeah, that request you put in for transfer to the bureau’s Hazardous Material Response Unit. You know, I would approve it for you, but it slipped my mind.”

“Very funny, Boss. Very funny.”