Chapter 39 - Queen's Gambit IV
After all these years, now after all this time spent on this. Panic said it before. When things finally begin to change? They can sometimes change very quickly. Once everything was in place? JG was right. It was practically too easy. The shadow boat had been located, and we had a transponder ID.
Planes have an official ID, its actually a call sign. You see it on every aircraft, its that serial number. On most planes, its on or near the tail section. Pilots informally refer to their plane, by the last trailing letters. Our plane, for instance. The private sport jet? The last two letters are TC. Which makes us, Tango Charlie.
Boats, everyone is used to the name. Small private boats, have illustrious names. The Drunken Marine. A left handed former relief pitcher when he was young, that Panic sometimes fishes with at home? His bass boat is Portsider. If you stand at the console? To your left, is the port side. Historically, cargo ships docked and gang planked on that side. So, left is port. If you ever wondered why the right side, is starboard? When docked, you looked out the left side window, you'd see... port. You looked out the other side window? You'd see... the stars. Boats had the rooms below the main deck back then. The little porthole window? Was just above that wooden deck. You'd see... stars, and the deck boards. Starboard.
Boat owners go to great lengths, to christen their boats with the most colorful or funniest name. On one of the great lakes, we went with one of Panic's hometown friends that had a decent size boat. That boat, was... wait for it. Spank Me. We stayed at the guy's camp right on the shore, and the neighboring trailer was his friend. His boat, similar sized? Was Ooh Baby.
We didn't think much about it, until we were out on Lake Erie. Protocol there, on VHF marine radio? Is to announce your call sign, which is your boat name clearly, three times. The person called? Protocol is to return your boat name, again three times.
So. These boats cover two spots, both looking for the herd of fish they know is somewhere in the vicinity, then they converge. Every so often, you hear the exchange. Spank Me, Spank Me, Spank Me... then? Ooh Baby, Ooh Baby, Ooh Baby. And? Any other boat within transmission distance, people crack up.
We just know our object boat's last so many call numbers and letters. That's what comes up on the transponder screen. We actually know the full registration serial number, that's issued and doesn't change. The communications officer can get it. The screen just uses the last several for brevity. But, we don't know the... given name. That's easier to look for. Ask around lake Erie. Hey, anyone see Spank Me this weekend? You might get a response. Ask for him by a string of numbers and a few letters? Not so much.
So. There's a number of boats at the many docks at Bermuda, and go figure. We have to all fan out, and not look like were checking boat registration numbers, when we actually are. The boys decided, to use binoculars. Guys at the beach, play games. You have a few beers, and get the binoculars out. You girl watch. You see nice titties and ass? You talk your buddy over to check it out too. When you have expensive zoom binoculars? Well, you can get right up in her tits and ass, visually.
Rob, Panic, Skykid, JG and Vladimir? Pretended they're drinking in portable chairs, and... having the binoculars girl watching game. There's a lot of rich guyshave hot little numbers with them, on all these expensive boats. The game passes for very normal. They finally located their boat. Now? They have a name.
The Mediterranean Pride. Panic has digital binoculars, that take digital pictures. Sure enough, there's always someone on it. A guy, looks to be about in his thirties, approaching forty. He has a woman about his age with him. They got me to take a look. Honestly? After an extended look, I gotta say. I don't see the little body language of a couple I'm looking for. I'm looking for the little things. The little looks, the little glances. The eyeballing each other. To me, they act more like... friends, than lovers.
The boys are more convinced than ever, they got their target. You don't need a transponder on a boat, to own and operate it legally. But? A lot of people with nice boats, like to have one. Some big docks and ports? Require it. Bermuda is one. The boys can't count on tracking the transponder forever, though. No doubt they'll shut it off, when they leave and float off. And so, tag and release.
The trick, is to get a twelve volt GPS broadcasting a signal. On a car? You can wire it in anywhere you can grab a power and ground wires. Same on the boat, but you need it above the water line. Once its broadcasting, JG can have it relayed and put on a map. But, by far the much more important thing, is to get their cell phone information. If their phone is on, its broadcasting the phone's ID to the nearest tower. The trick is to get close enough to the phone turned on even if not being used, and the handheld device locks onto the strongest nearest phone signal and saves it. Now, you have the cell phone's official ID and number.
You can track that phone anywhere.
To look like a normal couple vacationing at Bermuda? They have to go out and go fishing regularly. When they did, the boys just ran a boat past them, with all our own cell phones off and batteries taken out. The first pass got one cell number, and several subsequent passes on the other side? Got the second one. To do this and look credible? The boys acted like they were drunken assholes, giving the couple the wake treatment.
You fly by, and rock their boat with your wake, the waves you make. Its annoying, and you're being an asshole when you do it. You can knock a smaller boats drinks over, or tackle boxes spill contents. So? The Spoiled Princess had its own version of the SS Tadpole. His wife's matching yacht, for her use. Cute name, if you know enough about the couple and their story. Her yacht? Is... SS Devilette. Female devil, wife of the devil.
The boys acted like drunken yahoos, as I related. They waked their smaller boat a number of times, hooting and hollering, acting like drunken assholes. After enough times the guy got pissed, they kept doing it. They're actually drinking iced tea, so it looks like they're getting sloshed on whiskey.
After enough times the guy has to say something, or it looks out of place? The boys acted like complete drunken assholes, trying to start a fight. Not content to just take the cell ID's and call it a day, they kept it up. They sidled alongside the very bow of the smaller boat, and Rob actually got a line to catch on one of the mooring rigs you tie to a dock with.
Rob actually acted like he was a drunken asshole spoiling for a fight, which I know... its a real stretch for him. He jumped down onto the bow of this guy's boat, and started yelling and laughing and calling the guy every name in the book. He shook his dick at him and his woman with him. I mean? The whole, nine, yards. Finally, the guy gets into it with him.
Rob is six and a half feet tall, and they tell me he was more slender when younger. But he's filled out as he got older and didn't have to watch his weight for competing as a kick-boxer, or being in top physical condition for being a marine scout sniper, or being leader of Team Sigma's Delta Squad. He's not fat by any stretch, he lays block and tile for a living.
Now Rob has to pretend... that he's drunk, and just a big guy that can only sort of fight. He's actually letting this guy think he's getting the better of him. Rob can slip shots to the face and head. You make contact, but its not anything substantial. He also wrapped up with the guy, so they could do the rolling around like two idiots thing.
While this whole commotion is going on? The woman with him, is trying to break the two up. They can't realistically start shooting people, it might blow their cover, or just attract attention to them. And attention? Is the last thing this couple on this boat wants. So. Rob is letting the guy get some shots on him. It looks a lot worse than it really is. A trickle of blood out of his one nostril. A shiner. A split lip.
While all this is going on? Skykid. Drops off the other side of our boat. With all the noise, he quickly scubas over to the rear of their boat, and? Swaps out a navigation light. The replacement? Yeah. JG has the GPS sending unit epoxied inside. All places like Bermuda, have a marine store. They matched up the navigation light we had a high res picture of, and it was fairly standard. Once Skykid is back, and drops his equipment? He's now over at the side with all of us, and starts screaming at Rob.
Which is Rob's signal, its time to go. Little Robbie, acting like the big but drunk guy, that started a fight with a smaller guy but found out he couldn't exactly handle the guy? Now has "lost" his drunken brawl he instigated, and jumps off and swims for the "safety" of our boat again. Making it look good? Skykid is screaming at him, the hell's the matter with you, you drunken bastard. You trying to get us arrested? Come on you idiots. Lets get out of here, before we spend our vacation in a Bermuda jail.
And so, amid a number of quite colorful pejorative exchanges... we take off.
As Rob and Panic joked. If we don't get arrested? That's simply final proof of who they really are. No one, would not contact the authorities for all of that.
Rob said the guy has "an accent", as did the woman. Vladimir said, from what he caught of the guy and the woman's speech? While both spoke better English than he did... he was fairly certain they were Russian. He said, not Ukrainian-Georgian, like he is.
He thought it was somewhere near Moscow.
The plot thickens.
Once back, things were in place. JG is like Panic, a technology buff. Computers, tablets, cell phones. Electronics, they both like to huff solder fumes. They're both HAM radio guys, and they both like to have their little geek fest every time they get to hang out. They're really two peas in a pod.
Wizzy was just like this, too. Go figure Little Lightning took a shine to Panic, just like she did to Wizzy. Having a taste for smart guys since college, Wizzy's gamer friends, she was primed for JG.
Junior heard the talk about how Francois and his wife, loaned the boys their own phones. For the navigation apps for taking the tadpole out. He sat for a while, looking quite similar to Panic in one of his Swiss watch sessions. Finally, with a furrowed brow. He asks Francois.
"Francis?"
"Yes."
"Correct me if I'm wrong. You said, I think. Go ahead, take me and my wife's phone. We have a bunch of them."
Francois shrugged.
"Yes. I do. The, more phones you buy. The, more you put, on the... plan? The, cost per month, is less."
"So... you have more."
"Oui."
"Where did you get them."
"I... order them."
"You walked into a phone store? Or, you ordered them online."
"Internet. Better, price."
Panic wanted to know, what.
"Francis. Can... I see one of them? Play with it. I'm curious."
Francois went to a storage room, rummaged to a box on a metal shelf, and... brought him a new phone. Panic was curious now too. These two? Charged the phone up, and plugged it into JG's personal laptop. Him and Panic both have Linux laptops, the only thing a geek would ever be caught other than dead with.
JG charged the phone on his laptop, but clicked onto it. He started going through the phone's file structure, like he was browsing through a hard drive on his own computer. Panic was with him over his shoulder. JG got online, and went to a cellphone tech website. He double checked the model number and series, and the file structure of the phone he had in front of him? With what the phone was supposed to have.
He proclaimed, that according to the tech website, anyways. The phone he had, was sporting three extra files, and it was brand new, he took it out of the box. Rummaging the online tech downloads? If you "brick" a phone playing with it, fucking up the file structure you're not supposed to get into. The techs can download the proper file structure, and flash the phone brand new.
So. JG explained to Panic. Lets copy Francis's phone here, to Phone A, on my laptop. Then? We download what is supposed to be the proper file structure, off of the download section. We'll name that Phone B. Where were the extra three files. That, took some time. But, these two are relentless.
JG was curious about these three files. He went to website after tech geek website, looking. After a number of searches, he hit pay dirt. A malware site, had all three file names listed. One? Was used to broadcast the GPS signal of the phone, whether you said to or not. It bypassed your setting. The second? Sent a duplicate of any text you sent out, to another location. The third, did the same thing but in reverse. Any text incoming, was again copied and sent to this other site.
IP numbers are IP numbers. And this one? Was sending copies of texts to southern Moscow. JG and Panic were joking about it. I mean, even I know this one. Over half the time, that there's a "problem" on the internet? It gets traced back to "Russian hackers", as it gets portrayed in the news. Its said to be one of Russia's top exports, after vodka. Malcontents, that are good at programming and slick internet bullshit.
JG is actually familiar with this kind of thing. The FBI uses stuff like this, to keep tabs on people they're watching. Hell, back in my day? I was coached to get a target FBI agent I was dating for work, blind drunk if I could. Then, put something on his phone. Uncle Mikey had me do it often enough, along with making copies of keys. Mike could listen in, to anything going on around the phone, even when it was turned off. You had to take the battery out, to stop it. And no one does that.
This thing is really starting to span the globe, the more it goes on. Panic and Redwater, come out of the USA. But, Redwater is actually incorporated, off shore out of a small Caribbean island. Known for its private but expensive banking. The French were interested in getting the new Alsace-Lorraine of coal, located around the equator in South America. That guerrilla war, had elements in more than one surrounding country. The one main band of zombies, for instance, were originally sent up from the jungles of Colombia. Left over ARC right wing jungle guerrilla fighters.
We had to travel to northwestern Brazil, a remote region, to locate and purchase our information. The new blood coal, is located in Liberia, Africa. The countries around Liberia taking turns attacking it and being fought back? Are egged on by the Chinese. German and French government officials, were making money illegally by betting on the blood coal getting the price upped.
Now? Russians are looking to be the ones with a hard on to take out Francois and his wife. And their phones they bought? JG explained you can intercept a shipment, swap the phones out, and the recipient now carries the tainted phones. The FBI has used this tactic to listen in to companies they suspect of breaking white collar laws.
If this fans out any more? It will soon require me to make a list just to keep track. Its like a freaking geography class now.
Me and Panic and Vladimir took a walk for privacy.
"Vlad?"
"Yes."
"Yuri is Russian."
"Yes."
"So are you."
"Of course."
"The assholes on the boat? Are likely Russian. And the phone? Is broadcasting information back... to southern Moscow."
Vladimir shrugged.
"What are you getting at."
"Well. Glad we have you, friend. You can translate and show us around. Looks like we might be taking a little vacation to Russia, one day soon. We now have friends there, we'll want to pay a little visit to."
"Most parts of Moscow? I could show you around. Easily. But, southern Moscow, and outside the south of it? Not as easily."
"Why."
"That, is The Bitches territory."
"Women? What?"
"Not bitch, woman with bad attitude. The Bitches, are... I must explain. Russian crime."
"Please."
"Russia organized crime? Begins, during communism. Many people were in prison, and sent to gulag. In Russia, it was not required to be a criminal, to be sent to prison or gulag. Prison gangs, for protection, basically."
"Okay."
"There were two main prison gangs. I am from the one kind. The other side? The Bitches."
"There's a Russian mob, called The Bitches."
"Yes. In the prison. Bitch, was slang word. For, anyone that work with the guards and the prison officials. My side? Will not work with police or prison guards. Is not honorable. Can not trust them. They? Will turn on you. Quicker than any criminal."
"Okay. One side was against the guards, the other side? Allied with the guards."
"Yes. In prison? You get better treatment, to be a bitch."
"All right."
"In Russia? During communism. To be a... criminal? You were not necessarily, a bad guy. Many so called criminals? Used their connections and money, to feed people. To help their village they come from. A good Russian criminal? Does not bother regular people. If you are good person? You can go, to Russian criminal. You will perhaps get food, when you need it. To stay alive, in hard times."
"Like Yuri. Or? You."
"Yes. Is, honorable. But. The Bitches? Have... no honor. They will work with police. With government officials. With, secret police. With, anyone. They? Are not to be trusted. It, would not shock me. To learn The Bitches? Were involved with this thing."
"Can you get any information about this?"
"I do not know. As I say. This? Is... other team. In Russia? You would not want to go into enemy territory. And if you do? You keep, a... low profile. I will, get word to Yuri. Ask. Perhaps? Someone, has heard something."
"Do what you can. Be careful."
"I will tell you one thing."
"What's that."
"If I find out, that The Bitches, are responsible, for trying to kill Francois and his wife? There will be... hell to pay."
Panic nodded.
"I'll be going with you? We'll raise seven different kinds of Russian hell."
"If you wish. And? If The Bitches are responsible in any way. It will not be difficult, to get Yuri's permission. In fact, it would be more difficult? To keep Yuri from sending men to handle this situation. Properly."
"When Yuri gets out? I'd like to have a drink with the guy."
"I do not speak for Yuri, on matters such as this. But, if I had to guess? Yuri would probably like you. You display loyalty. And? Focus and dedication. You? Are not interested in money. That, is a trait of The Bitches. They, will... sell out. To, the highest bidder."
Great. Good Russian mob. Bad Russian mob. Russian hackers and hit men. This thing is getting ridiculous.
"Vladimir? Question. Why, would The Bitches... care about a French investor."
"Well. Yuri? Is on other side of Bitches. Yuri? Is a man of honor. Remember. I meet him? Fighting against, assholes from Ukraine coming across border. Your NATO. The Bitches? Were working with NATO. The Bitches? Will work with anyone, if they have anything they can gain. No, honor."
"What would they have to gain, working against a Russian country."
"Money. Your NATO? Will pay anyone, to get help. Also. The Bitches? Were promised if they help. They would be given Ukraine? As their turf."
"So, what would they have against Francois."
"Yuri. He, fed many people. During fight. Also? We fought together. Against assholes, coming across border. And. Your NATO? Would not like Yuri. He organized many men, to fight back. To keep... Ukraine, shit? On Ukraine side of border. Where it belong."
"Vladimir?"
"Yes."
"The more I hear about... NATO? The less I like them."
"Is okay. Francois? You hear him. Piss upon France. He used to love Paris, and France. Now? They turn on him. And so. If you come to one day say. Fuck NATO. Is, okay."
"I like my country. Hell, I love my country. But? I'm getting tired of learning things about it, that I was happier not knowing."
Vladimir put his meaty hand on Panic's shoulder, quite affectionately.
"Is okay. Francois? Is now ashamed to be French. I hear him say this? Many times now. And, while it started out, perhaps, as joke? Is no longer as much of joke. Myself? I am now embarrassed, that any Russian... would be involved with this thing. And so? Try, not to... let it... bring, you, down."
Panic sighed.
"I'm getting very tired, Vlad."
"Well? Take nap."
Panic sighed again. Longer.
"Its not the kind of tired? That sleep, can necessarily fix."
Vlad patted his shoulder, and nodded with him in commiseration.
"We do, what we can. And? There is always vodka. Plus? You have good woman. Hell. You? Have two good woman. You? Are a very lucky man."
"I guess. But some days? Like now, for instance. I don't always feel so... lucky."
"Things? They will turn around. When, this thing is over. You will see."
"I hope so, Vladimir. I sure hope so."
"I can not wait. To see, your village you speak of. I like, little village. More, than big city."
"Yeah. I'm not exactly, a city person either."
"You are a good man, Panic. Very good. You? Take many risks. For Francois. And, you do not ask for money. That? Is very honorable. A very rare, good thing. I like, very much."
"Vladimir?"
"Yes."
"Can I ask you a serious question?"
"Of course."
"It concerns money."
"You need some?"
"No. The opposite problem. I, have too much of it."
"Not a problem, I often hear men complain about."
"I have money? I... am not supposed to have."
"Hmm. As problem go? Is not worst problem, a man can have."
"Do you... know what I can do about that. I'm not an... expert, about money."
"You sound like Yuri. Yuri, had more money than he was supposed to have."
"How did he fix that. He's a legitimate investor now."
"Is simple."
"Really."
"Let us use, round number. Suppose? You, have one million dollars. From... whatever. Is not my business. But? I loan you. One million dollar. Is not illegal, to loan you money."
"How does this help."
"For a percentage? I loan you, the one million. You must have, something you do with it. Legitimate. It looks, as if you make me payments. With interest. But? I do not take payments. Only? Interest. Interest, is high. But? You now have excuse. Is, legitimate. And. Once you have enough money? Is no longer problem. Is how Yuri came to be... big investor."
"I have other things. I shouldn't have. Not just cash."
"Such as."
"Uncut diamonds. Bearer bonds. Bitcoins."
Vladimir smiled.
"Again. Is, good problem to have. And yes. When this thing is over? We will help you with, this... little, but good, problem. As I say. You? Will receive... big loan. Which? You can buy discount notes with. Also? We will be talking, when this is over. About... manufacturing receivers."
"I never set out. To become a rich man. Or, an important man."
"Once again. Is not bad problem to have. You? Will have to learn. To relax and enjoy life. When this is over? Perhaps, we go to monkey island. I have heard about it, many times. I? Wish to see it. Perhaps you will enjoy it."
Later on, JG came to Panic. He seemed nervous. I mean Christ, what now. He wanted to talk to Panic, alone. They went off. When Panic came back after a bit, I had trouble figuring the look on his face. He kind of looked, like someone had kicked him in the gut. Naturally, I asked him what was the matter.
"JG was having trouble telling me."
"What. How bad could it be."
"I'm not sure."
"Well?"
"Junior said, he was waiting. Because there had to be some kind of rational explanation."
"Rational explanation for..."
"I'm getting there. Don't... jump to conclusions. I can see why JG was confused, and trying to figure something out. I mean, there should be a reason."
"A reason for, what."
He sighed.
"Like we need more to worry about."
"Why not. Remember the... gig I had. Use a unique name, that would be so unique, it would be easy to come up with a hit."
"Sure. I thought that was a bright idea. Even Junior liked it."
"Well. He did like it. So did I. Until just now."
"Why. Did Junior get a hit? Uncle Mike will think we're heroes, we find a leak like that. Drug cartel, having a line to the FBI, someone on the inside. They've suspected that for years. The director? Will blow Mike for that one, if it pans out."
"Well... wait till you hear what JG said."
"They always did say, it had to be high level. Someone with broad access to shit. It was coming up in other agencies. Assistant director? That would be bad. No, wait. You said the director wouldn't be happy. Is it the... it can't be the director. No way."
"This doesn't leave here. Your ears only."
"Okay."
He sighed. Put his head in his hands, and came up rubbing his face.
"I mean, there has to be a reasonable explanation, but. Okay. Don't freak."
"All right. I'm sitting down."
"I'm sure you know about the Carnivore program. The FBI, can scan for hits on phrases."
"I know. Patriot act bullshit. More useful for spying on Americans, than foreigners. You saying Junior got a hit? On your unique name you used."
"Oh yeah."
"At the FBI?"
"Oh yeah."
"Who."
Panic stared with a completely dropped face.
"It popped up? Carnivore gives you the location it pops up in, but doesn't let you read what it popped up in."
"Go on."
"An email. A personal email, not a work one. Its owned? By... our own, Uncle Mikey."
I looked at him like he was retarded.
"How's that even possible."
"Maybe now, you see what JG was so weird about it for."
I thought about it.
"Well, there has to be a reasonable explanation, for that. Mike's... working an angle, a case. He's onto it, and... hell, why would he necessarily tell me. If it doesn't concern my case, no need there."
"Yeah. That? Is exactly why Junior said, he was sitting on it. Same thing with him. There just had to be a rational explanation. Plus? I told him to keep it between us, for now. So... he did. And now? For obvious reasons, as you can see."
"That doesn't make any sense, unless there's some reason for it."
"I'll chew on it, of course. But remember. I made up a completely unique name. No one, that ever lived in the United States, ever had that name. No one ever traveled to the United States, under that name. He Carnivore's the unique name? It pops up in only one place. A personal email, belonging to Uncle Mikey."
"I still..."
"Time and date? Adjusting for time zone?"
"Is..."
"While we were having breakfast. With General Suarez."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah."
"What do we even do."
"That's what has me and Junior so rattled."
"But, Mike's a stand up guy."
"He is."
"He... gets shit done. Like no one's business."
"He does."
"He... handles the shit, everyone else is scared to touch. The joke is, he handles radioactive shit storms."
"True. Seen him do it myself."
"I don't know what to think."
"Me neither. Junior, is kinda freaked out."
"I can imagine."
Panic waited a little bit.
"There is an upside, honey."
"What is the upside, to this."
"Are you alive?"
"Yeah. You are too. Why?"
"If you run someone's jacket, you typically send a picture, too."
"Sure."
"That means. Uncle Mikey? Saw the names we made up and were traveling under. And? He saw my... real name, as I gave it to General Suarez."
"Okay."
"Uncle Mikey? Saw our pictures, along with those names."
"Oh."
"And? We're still alive."
I whistled.
"Uncle Mikey? Didn't burn us."
"No. If he had? We'd be face down in a Brazilian ditch right now, getting quite ripe."
"Well. Mike is a stand up guy."
"To us."
Panic waited a minute.
"Remember what General Suarez said to us?"
"He said a lot of things. Narrow it down, maybe."
"He teased me. You? Are a criminal. You have parking tickets."
"Yeah. That was kind of cute of him."
"Uncle Mikey? Made my fake name, seem real to him. He obviously told him? The guy's record, just has a few outstanding parking tickets."
"Do... we even do anything about this?"
Panic sighed again.
"I don't know yet. I'm gonna have to give this a lot of thought."
"Same here."
I thought about it, then added.
"Just as well, for now. Mike's away. Putting a fire out, that belongs to someone else, somewhere."
"Yeah. Its what he does. He's... good at it."
I waited for a while. Panic spoke after a bit.
"I don't know. JG said, the file on Vaco? He's the least violent, of all the cartels. And? He's known for dealing in information."
I mulled it over.
"Maybe, Mike gets information, on other cartels and drug routes or whatnot. Through him."
Panic sighed.
"I hope that's it."
I shrugged.
"I guess, that could make sense. Plus? He didn't burn us."
Panic shook head.
"Like I said. I hope so."
