The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI #5)(17)
In the elevator, Roman fixed his dark eyes on Raphael. “I am increasing my efforts to find Temora. Even so, he should not have been able to get into MATRIX. This was done on your watch, Raphael. Should I fire you?”
“I would prefer to offer my resignation, sir.”
Roman contemplated his manager. Fifteen years, and he’d done a spectacular job, no denying that fact. And this short, bespectacled little man was too good to lose, especially now. And Roman had to hand it to him: at least the man was looking him in the eye, even though Roman could smell his fear.
“No, I don’t think so. That would be too easy. You will personally oversee this project, Raphael. You will repair and patch and fix MATRIX, and make sure every single client is up to date. You will ensure that MATRIX is made impenetrable. And you will give me the name of the one who stopped Temora’s attack.
“I will track down Temora and shove code into his terrorist systems that will disable him and his compatriots forever.”
Roman looked pensive, then said in his terrifying soft voice, “Do you understand what I will do to you if you fail?”
Raphael straightened, and Roman was struck again by the show of courage. Beaten but not broken. Good.
“Yes, sir. I won’t disappoint you again. I swear it.”
“See that you don’t. Give me the name as soon as you find it. Now, I need updates on Project Cabal. Where do we stand?”
Raphael realized that was why he wasn’t dead or ignominiously fired. He needs me to keep track of the shipments.
“Follow me, sir. The hanger is almost full. The shipments have been coming in regularly from your six building sites, and I’ve been handling the deliveries myself, no one else, like you said.”
The hangar was ten minutes away. Raphael gave him updates as they walked. “The boats come in after dark, as you wanted, and the crates are unloaded by the boat’s foreman himself. Then I move them here. I’ve been very careful.”
The hangar doors opened. Inside was a small Cessna, retrofit for battle, with missiles and guns, stripped down so as not to over-weigh the plane, customizations Roman had designed himself. And behind the plane were endless stacks of crates, floor to ceiling. Only Roman knew what was inside. And of course, his supplier knew, but Raphael had no idea, no idea at all, unless—
His soft voice. “Have you ever opened one of these crates, Raphael?”
Raphael looked shocked. “Absolutely not, sir, I would never—”
“I believe you, Raphael. Now, I’m going to share a little secret with you. I’m sure you’ve wondered what’s been coming in from my six building sites, so I’m going to tell you what’s inside the crates. And you will understand the necessity for privacy and discretion.”
Raphael’s eyes bugged out of his head at Roman’s next words.
CHAPTER NINE
Old Farrow Hall
Farrow-on-Gray, England
Mike had been gone only moments when Adam was back on Nicholas’s screen again. “I spoke to Fourtnoy, and all is good. Nicholas, I ran a few quiet inquiries about the murdered men. What do you know about Heinrich Hemmler’s background?”
“Very little. He wasn’t on my radar until he was killed this morning. I was told he was supposed to talk to the prime minister this morning about loosening the numbers of refugees the U.K. will let in yearly. Not unexpected, and no reason for murder I can see.”
“Hemmler’s been a rather vocal opponent of Brexit, and, like the chancellor, believes shutting down the borders of the U.K. is going to hurt Germany. I also heard talk about streamlining an ‘allies’ program, where British and German citizens could pass through security without visas.”
“Interesting. But again, hardly worth killing over. What about Chapman Donovan? He’s a councilman from Northern Ireland, specifically Belfast West. Did you find a connection between the two men?”
“No, but I did turn up that Hemmler traveled to Northern Ireland last week and happened to see Chapman Donovan in a local meeting. Could be something to it. There was some talk about Donovan’s loyalties, but nothing specific. Maybe I could get some inside information on both men that would shed some light.”
“You mean the kind of information only the government would have?”
“Sensitive info, yes.”
“Adam, no hacking into the Brit databases, you hear me? Anything else is fair game, but my father would have my head if I let you have a go at their servers. I can ask directly, politely, instead.”
“You’re no fun.”
Nicholas said, “Mike thinks I’m a barrel of fun.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t count.”
Nicholas wasn’t about to ask him why he thought she didn’t count.
“Nicholas, moving right along to the really important discovery. My Spidey senses were tingling. No, not about the murders. No one’s claiming responsibility for the ransomware attack, and that’s weird. Even chatter in the dark web has been off. It feels bigger than an attempt to rake in the bitcoin to me, Nicholas.” Adam swigged the last of his Red Bull. “It could very well be North Korea. You know they’re convinced the U.S. is working with Britain to attack them, so they would want to know everything they could find out. Yeah, a bundle of bitcoins is good for their empty coffers if the ransomware attack had worked, but that wouldn’t be their main objective. But this is: Nicholas, hang on to your hat. This is the biggie—I found evidence of keystroke analysis, and you know MATRIX is designed to kill intrusions like this. You and I stopped the ransomware attack easily, but with the keystroke analysis, it could mean all government servers could be compromised.”