Omega Sanction

Chapter Eight

Thorpe did exactly as Lieutenant Colonel Kinsley had ordered him. He knocked on her door at 0900, marched to a point two steps in front of her desk and reported as ordered. Then he got his first surprise of the day.

"Sit down, Major Thorpe," Colonel Kinsley said, her tone almost pleasant.

Thorpe carefully moved over to the chair in front of her desk and sat down, not quite sure how to take this departure from the previous time he had reported to her, especially in light of what had happened last night.

Kinsley pointed at a map of the world behind her desk. "SOCOM presently has troops deployed to forty-two countries around the world and I am responsible for filling every single personnel slot for every single assignment, from three men on a medical training mission in Belize to the deployment in Bosnia."

"The operational groups are stretched beyond their own personnel capabilities. Up to a month ago, Tenth Group could barely keep up with the operational demands of supporting the Bosnia peacekeeping mission while at the same time running Operation Provide Comfort to the Kurds in Turkey on the border with Iraq. First Battalion of Tenth Group, stationed out of Stuttgart, is one almost hundred percent deployed. Fourteen of fifteen A-teams, two of three B-teams, and the battalion headquarters are all currently deployed."

"Second and Third Battalions, out of Fort Carson, Colorado, are over eighty percent deployed. The peacekeeping mission has overwhelmed Tenth Group's resources. If you add in trying to make sure that soldiers get to their necessary schooling, such as O & I, and specialty training when required, such as scuba and HALO, there will always be some gaps. Plus there is the natural turnover of duty reassignments and soldiers who are finishing their time in service and getting out."

There wasn't much new here, Thorpe thought. When he'd been on a team it was standard to be deployed the majority of the year. It was hard on families and it was hard on the soldiers, but it was what Special Forces was all about. Special Forces wasn't a pure wartime asset, sitting around training, waiting for the big one. Its active missions crossed the spectrum from peacetime through all-out war. A Special Forces soldier expected to be away from home most of the time.

"As a stopgap measure," Kinsley continued, "we have brought in individuals such as yourself from the reserves to supplement the active duty forces. At best it's been a Band-Aid solution. At the recommendation of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the President is considering activating parts of the Nineteenth Special Forces Group, which is National Guard, to supplement the Tenth Special Forces Group in its missions. Unfortunately, Nineteenth Group is behind the power curve in terms of personnel also. Instead of deploying the group intact, the SOCOM commander, General Markham, my boss, is considering using the members of Nineteenth Group to fill out the deployed Special Forces units. Allow them to give some of their people a break for a couple of months, before going back."

Thorpe was following this discourse with half his brain while the other half was wondering what had happened to her attitude from the previous evening.

"I have to travel to Europe to gather information for that activation to make sure, if it does occur, we can support it and how the deployed groups would like to rotate their personnel and use the reservists. Because you are in the reserves, I would like you to come with me to provide me with that perspective."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I've only been in the reserves a couple of months. I may have spent a long time on active duty, but this is my—"

"Major Thorpe," Kinsley said sharply. "Need I remind you that you conducted an unauthorized search into the Department of Defense database yesterday?"

"No, ma'am, but I don't see what one has—"

"Major Thorpe, I recommend you do whatever I tell you to do without the slightest question. You are going with me to Europe. That is all. Quite frankly, given your record, I don't particularly want you along, but on the other hand I'd rather have you where I can see you than leave you behind here to run amok. You can get our travel information from Sergeant Christie."

Thorpe knew when he was dismissed. He stood and saluted.

"By the way," Kinsley said, stopping him at the door. "Don't use the computer again. That's an order. Clear?"

"Clear, ma'am."

Thorpe exited her office. Christie didn't say a word; he simply held out a packet of papers. Thorpe took them back to his office. He checked the flight information. He would be departing in two days out of Pope Air Force Base.

"Heard you're leaving us for a while," Takamura said as Thorpe sat down.

"Small world."

"Heard also that you did something to piss the colonel off," Takamura said. "I hope it didn't have anything to do with our work on the computer yesterday."

"Actually, that's exactly what pissed her off," Thorpe said. "But don't worry, I didn't mention that you helped me."

Takamura looked concerned, but Thorpe wasn't in the mood to reassure him.

Thorpe stared at the computer on his desk. "Hey, Takamura, if you did what you did yesterday, that search, would Kinsley know?"

Takamura's worried look grew more severe. "Funny you should ask that. As I've been working this morning, I've noticed that someone's monitoring all the computers in the office. It's not easy to spot, but there are certain signs, if you know exactly what to look for. If whoever that is — and I assume it's the colonel — doesn't want us to run that search, we'd be shut down within a minute of getting started."

"Shit," Thorpe muttered. "I should have xeroxed a copy of that list."

"Actually," Takamura said, "I've got something better than that." He held up a 3.5-inch disk. "What's that?"

"The list," Takamura said. "I downloaded it yesterday while it was printing."

"You're a genius," Thorpe said.

"There's some that might agree with you," Takamura said.

"Hold on to that," Thorpe said. "I have to make a call." Thorpe put the travel packet on the corner of his desk and called Parker. He briefed her on what had happened so far and the meeting with the CID colonel the previous evening.

"He's got a point," Parker said when he was done. "Most serial killers do want the bodies to be found. You know, maybe Dublowski's daughter did just run away. Perhaps

you're letting your emotions interfere with your rational thinking.

"I'll grant you that I'm emotionally involved," Thorpe said. "We're talking about a seventeen-year-old girl disappearing."

"They disappear every day," Parker said.

"That's pretty cold," Thorpe said.

"No, it's pretty realistic," Parker said.

"Listen," Thorpe said. "You were the one giving me lectures in Louisiana about family and how important it is."

"Point taken," Parker said. "Speaking of which, how are—"

"Could you do some checking for me on this?" Thorpe cut her off. "Maybe just call a few of the families of some of the missing girls and find out what they think? I'm leaving for Europe and I won't be able to do that."

"I thought your list was appropriated and you're not allowed in the computer anymore."

"True on both accounts, but I have a friend who backed up the list onto a disk. I can send it to you over modem; rather, the guy here in the office with me can send it. What do I need to be able to do that?"

"My E-mail address," Parker said. She rattled it off and Thorpe copied it down. There was a short pause, then her voice came back. "I've been thinking about this since the last time we talked," Parker said as Thorpe slid the address over to Takamura. "Why did you limit your search to Germany?"

"Because that's where Terri Dublowski disappeared," Thorpe said. "I figured if something happened to her there, then the someone who did the something was there too."

"At that time, yes," Parker said. "But why was Terri in Germany?"

"Her dad was stationed there," Thorpe said. He immediately saw what she was getting at. "You think the killer might be in the army, or even be a family member."

"It's possible," Parker said. "If that's the case, there might be some disappearances here in the States around military posts. If the killer is military, then he's moving just like his victims. In fact, I think it's a pretty intriguing possibility," Parker said.

"Too bad I can't run the search again," Thorpe said, "and do it stateside."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Parker said. "I've got the list on my computer. I'll get back to you. Out here."

"Out." Thorpe put the phone down, then looked at Takamura, who was eyeing him with a mixture of unease and anticipation after sending the data to Parker.

Thorpe tapped his computer. "You said some people consider you a genius on these things, right?"

"I know computers," Takamura conceded.

"Can you beat whoever's put this thing in the system and do another search for me?"

Takamura pulled his glasses off and nervously cleaned them on his BDU shirt. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose, but I'd have to do it in a way that the system doesn't know it's getting beat, and that makes it harder than just simply bypassing the—"

Thorpe held up a hand. "Can you do it?"

"I might be able to."

"Will you?"

Takamura pursed his lips.

"I'll take responsibility," Thorpe said. "If Kinsley finds out, I'll tell her I did it."

"She won't believe that," Takamura said.

"Okay, then I'll tell her I threatened to kill you if you didn't do what I told you to. She would believe that," Thorpe said.

"You're not serious, are you?" Takamura asked, edging his seat back.

"No, I'm not serious. Geez, Takamura, why'd you join the army? I've never seen anyone who looks so out of place in a set of BDUs."

"For the college money," Takamura said. "I want to go back and get my Ph.D."

"Well, live a little," Thorpe said. "Take it to the edge, you might like it."

"It would be a challenge." Takamura was still playing with his glasses.

"That's the spirit!" Thorpe said. He tapped the other man on his chest, on the set of cloth wings sown there. "You're airborne, Takamura. I know you crave a little excitement now and then. You could have served in a leg unit, not airborne. You volunteered to be here. That tells me something."

"Well," Takamura said, "I suppose I could try."

Thorpe watched the door as Takamura worked. He had no idea what the other man was doing. He knew that everyone else — Kinsley, the CID colonel and Parker — thought he was chasing a ghost. But there was one thing that made Thorpe want to push this, and that was the sergeant major. Dublowski and he had been through a lot over the years and he owed the man to give it his best, even if it looked like there was nothing to pursue.

The bottom line as far as Thorpe was concerned was that Terri Dublowski was somewhere, whether living or dead, and he meant to find her. This was the best avenue he could explore right now.

He also wasn't satisfied with either the CID colonel's explanations or Kinsley's reaction this morning. Especially the latter. Why had she changed so abruptly? It was out of character. Thorpe didn't have any idea why he was feeling suspicious, but his experiences over the past two decades had taught him to trust those instincts.

After three hours, Takamura was still at work. Thorpe went out and got them both some food from the Burger King on post and brought it back. They went into the afternoon with Takamura still on the computer. The only thing Thorpe could compare it to was trying to sneak up on an enemy in the field. It took a long, slow, cautious approach.

The phone rang and Thorpe picked it up. "SOCOM G-l, this line unsecure."

"Thorpe?"

"Yes."

"It's Parker."

"Yes?"

"I think you might have something. I used a couple of my assistants to contact the families to do an initial screening. We managed to get hold of eighteen of the twenty-four. Six of the girls did run away and the families heard from them subsequent to the CID investigation."

"Of the other twelve, I think there are five that are worth a real hard look. I talked to one or both of the parents and their situation is just like Dublowski's. They insist their daughter wouldn't run away. They say she just went out one night, off post, and simply never came back. No packing of bags, no withdrawal of money. Just disappeared and there's been no sign since. What's also interesting is that all five, in addition to Terri, have disappeared in the last couple of months."

"Do you have the six's name? Date and location of disappearance?" Thorpe asked.

Parker rattled them off and Thorpe copied them down.

Thorpe stared at the list, running through his brain where each of those sites were. "Damn, Parker, do you realize all six of those are grouped around Stuttgart? Within fifty miles?"

"I know," Parker replied. "If they are all clustered together, that makes the possibility of one person being responsible for their disappearance much more likely. I think you've stumbled across something important."

"I've got to go to Europe day after tomorrow," Thorpe said. "I'll check these names out over there. There's a warrant officer working in the office here — named Takamura. He's going to do some more checking on the computer, looking over CON-US disappearances. I'll have him call you if he comes up with anything."

"He can tell me in person," Parker said. "I'm coming down from D.C. in two days. I think this is worth pursuing and I have other business to take care of there at Bragg."

"All right," Thorpe said. "I'll give you Sergeant Major Dublowski's phone number and you can link up with him. And Takamura's."

When he was done he walked around the desks to look over Takamura's shoulder. Thorpe didn't have a clue what was on the screen as Takamura scrolled through the program he had written. He told Takamura about Colonel Parker and that he should tell her everything when she arrived."

"I'm going to try the run now," Takamura said. "I think I've bypassed the security tag program and it won't notice that it's been bypassed."

"You think?" Thorpe repeated.

"We won't know until we try it," Takamura said.

"What's the worst that can happen?" Thorpe asked. "The computer explodes?"

"I don't know," Takamura said seriously. "I suppose the worst that can happen is the worst thing that whoever set up the security tag is capable of. This security program is very sophisticated."

"Well, let's go for it and see what happens," Thorpe said.

Takamura typed in a command and the screen cleared, replaced by the little clock with the hands winding. At the top of the screen, a green band also appeared, with the word clear written across it in big black letters.

"What's that?" Thorpe asked.

"It means the program is running clean. No tracer or tag," Takamura explained.

They waited until the bar turned red and the word suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a new one flashing: tagging.

"It didn't work," Takamura exclaimed. He immediately began typing commands. "Someone's on to the program and trying to find out where it's coming from. I routed it through a bunch of systems, so it will take them a while to get back to us."

"How long?" Thorpe asked.

"A minute, maybe more."

"Well, then, get out of there."

"I'm trying to disengage right now."

Thorpe felt helpless and stupid as he watched Takamura's fingers flying over the keys.

"Shit!" Takamura exclaimed. "I can't disengage. This is a very good trap," he said. "They've got us and they're going to find out where we are." He sat back in his chair and looked at Thorpe helplessly.

Thorpe dropped to his knees and leaned under the desk. He pulled the telephone line that went to the computer and its power plug. The screen went dark.

"What did you do?" Takamura exclaimed.

Thorpe had the two cords dangling from his hand. "Will they find out we ran the program now?"

It was an option Takamura hadn't thought of and it took him a few second to collect himself. "No, I don't think so."

"Good," Thorpe said, dropping the cords. "We'll have to come up with a different way of checking this information."

"I'll work on it," Takamura said.

"Any idea who put the security program in place?" Thorpe asked.

"I initially thought it was Colonel Kinsley," Takamura said, "but once I got into it, I knew it was more sophisticated than anything we have here at Bragg. Probably someone in Washington. Maybe even the NSA — they have the best people there."

"You sound jealous," Thorpe said. "Now, why would someone in Washington be concerned about this?" he asked. He didn't expect an answer from Takamura, nor did he get one.

"What do you want me to do?" Takamura asked.

"Let's suppose there's someone who killed these six girls around Stuttgart in the past year. There's a chance that person is German, but there is also a possibility that the person is American. Most likely a soldier. I wanted you today to check military posts here in the States and see if there are any missing girls. If there are, then we have a pattern. We can then try and cross-reference to see how many military personnel fit the pattern. Which ones were in the right assignment at the right time."

"I might be able to access the personnel computer from a different location, now that I have an idea what the security program is like," Takamura said. "All I need is a phone line and I can use my laptop and cell phone in my car or, even better, work from my computer at home. It's a better machine than this crap."

"Great," Thorpe said. "Try to see if you can find anything stateside. Parker's coming here in two days and she'll link up with you. She has access to a lot of resources, so if you find anything, give it to her. If you run into any trouble, call Sergeant Major Dublowski." Thorpe gave Takamura the phone numbers.

"What do you think is going on?" Takamura asked.

"I don't have a clue," Thorpe said. "You need to be very careful. I appreciate what you've done so far. Don't take any chances. Push comes to shove, we'll let Parker do the digging. Using the Freedom of Information Act and some good congressional and media pressure, she can find out a lot. The main reason I'd like you to work it as soon as possible is that I want to be able to check on anything you might find out while I'm over in Germany. The last girl disappearing was only two weeks ago. The killer, if there is one, is probably still over there."

"I'll work the search again tonight from my apartment," Takamura said.

"It was somewhere in North Carolina, sir," Welwood said. "They got off the net before the NSA could pinpoint it. We're still not sure how they escaped our hook. The program was designed to keep an intruder locked in until identified."

Hancock regarded the other man over steepled fingers. "Was it Thorpe out of Fort Bragg?"

"I would assume so, sir."

Welwood was on Hancock's side of the black marble hallway, deep in the heart of Direct Action. Hancock's office was dark, paneled with expensive wood. His desk was massive, over ten feet long by six wide, but there was still nothing on it. A computer was built into the desk itself, angled glass allowing him to read the screen from his seat. Recessed lighting in the ceiling above Hancock was angled forward to cause visitors to have to squint to see him.

Above each of the chess sets was a single halogen light hanging down from the high ceiling, highlighting each board.

"What were they searching for?" Hancock asked.

"A five-variable search in the Department of Defense personnel computer," Welwood said. "Military dependents, female, age sixteen to eighteen, with a CID file number, in the continental United States."

Hancock tapped well-manicured fingers on his desktop. His eyes drifted to the chessboards.

"Major Thorpe is turning into a problem again," Hancock mused out loud.

"I don't understand the significance of the searches," Welwood said. "First girls overseas disappearing and now in the States."

"I don't either," Hancock said, "but you can be sure if Thorpe is involved in it, there's trouble somewhere. Did you do as I asked and inquire about this Romulus file in Operations?"

"Yes, sir. I made some discreet inquiries but drew a blank."

"What else?"

"There might be some trouble." Welwood pulled out a sheet of paper. "I ran the records on the phone in the office where Thorpe is assigned. Thorpe made a couple of phone calls this morning to a number in Alexandria. I ran the number and it belongs to an office in the Pentagon. He talked to someone in the congressional anti-terrorist liaison office."

"Who authorized you to do such a thing?"

"I used my initiative, sir."

"Thorpe's going overseas," Hancock said. "I'm going to have some people in Europe keep an eye on him over there. As far as Fort Bragg, I'll also keep tabs on developments there. I want you to expand your coverage to the Pentagon and find out who he's talking to."

Welwood wasn't happy about that last part. "We need to be careful with the Pentagon. They're covered by the NSA also. We might run into some counterintelligence. The green and blue suiters over there can get pretty riled up if they think we're stepping on their turf."

"Then be careful," Hancock snapped.

After Welwood left his office, Hancock pulled two files from a drawer and laid them on his desk. One was labeled romulus. The other remus.

The fact that the files were hard-copy paper and not loaded into the Agency's mainframe computer told Hancock that this was top-level stuff. No matter how good the hardware and software, computers could be compromised. There was only one copy of each file, the ones in his hands. The paper and photographs were coated with special chemicals that would react to any xeroxing or photographing.

Hancock flipped open the covers and placed them side by side on his desk. He stared at the pictures clipped to the left inside cover of each one. One was of a thin, dark-haired and slightly built man, wearing a flight suit with no markings. In the background, Hancock could make out helicopters and a control tower. Painted on the control tower were the words rucker airfield, alabama, home of army aviation. The other showed a man who was larger, with sandy-colored hair, wearing camouflage fatigues with no rank or markings. His photo was taken with the jump towers of Fort Benning in the background.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Hancock said with a smile.

He added several other folders to the two on his desk, then leaned back and stared at the stack for a very long time. Then he rolled his chair over to the Civil War chessboard. He stared at the board for a long time, then his hands moved quickly, adjusting the pieces, moving those on both sides about until he was satisfied.

When both black and white were set at the stage he wanted, Hancock sat for a while with his chin in his hand, staring. Then he reached with his free hand and swiftly moved pieces on both sides of the board, deploying both colors further until suddenly he stopped. He stared at what had been done so far.

On the other side of the corridor marking the line between Operations and Direct Action, Welwood was also deep in rumination. He was staring at his computer screen, looking at classified information. He was searching as much for what wasn't in the reports he was reading as for what was. One thing he had learned early in his career with the CIA was that lack of information was information.

Samson and Delilah. Welwood wondered who had come up with those code names. He looked up as the door to his office swung open. He quickly shifted programs on the screen.

"Yes, ma'am?"

The figure in his doorway commanded instant attention. Kim Gereg, the director of Operations, was tall for a woman, exactly six feet tall, and solid, weighing in just over a hundred and sixty pounds. She was fifty-five years old, having started in the CIA working as a secretary over thirty years ago.

She'd left to get an advanced degree in Russian studies and returned to the Agency as an analyst. She was one of the first women to go through field agent training when that became available to females. If ever there was an example of working one's way up through the ranks, it was Gereg. Despite those efforts though, she was still a woman in what was one of the last bastions of the old boys' club in bureaucratic Washington. Although the CIA didn't exclusively recruit off the Ivy League campuses as its predecessor, the OSS, had, there was still a prevailing attitude that spying was a man's job even though the closest most CIA employees had ever gotten to violence was when two of their number had been killed at the gate to Langley by a Pakistani terrorist.

"What's going on?" Gereg asked.

Welwood knew Gereg did this often — wandered the hallways, popping her head in offices, checking on her subordinates. He supposed she thought it showed she cared about her people, but he just found it a pain in the ass.

"Following up on the satellite imagery from Bosnia," Welwood lied.

Gereg nodded. "Anything?"

"A lot of troop movement. The Serbs seem to have been resupplied with heavy weapons."

"Russia?"

"Some. There's a lot on the market right now from quite a few places."

"No surprise there," Gereg said. "Anything happening?"

"An IFOR patrol came across the bodies of those missing Polish soldiers. There was a dead Bosnian militiaman with them. It appears he killed the Poles — tied them to trees and tortured them first."

"That will throw some gas on the fire. Who killed the Bosnian?"

"We have no idea."

Gereg frowned and crossed her arms in front of her. "Where did this occur?"

"Just north of the Sava River."

"In Bosnia," Gereg said. "That's strange." She tappeda long finger on the bicep of the other arm. "Do you have the estimate for combat operations if IFOR acts against the Serbs?"

"The Balkan group is working on it with the military analysts."

"What's the initial readout?"

"I'll have it to your desk by noon." Welwood wanted her out of his office.

"Good," Gereg said, but she didn't leave. She stared at Welwood. He didn't exactly stare back, keeping his eyes from making direct contact with hers. After ten seconds she nodded slightly. "Keep up the good work."

The door swung shut behind her.