Payback

15

Lia checked her room for bugs as soon as she got there. She found three, all of which appeared to belong to the Peruvian intelligence service. She left them where they were and made a phone call to her “mother”—actually an NSA operator briefed to play the role — and told her how beautiful the country was. Then Lia turned on the TV and flopped down on the bed. Finding her eyes starting to close, she called down to the desk to ask for a wakeup call in three hours. Lia put the phone down and within moments was sleeping. The next thing she knew, the phone was ringing to wake her.

A quick shower restored some of her energy. Dressing in a long, loose skirt and a flowing knit top, Lia went downstairs in full tourist mode.

She knew she’d be shadowed, but she didn’t spot the two Peruvian agents who’d been assigned to track her until she got out of the taxi at Manos Morenas, a popular tourist spot. The restaurant pulsed with Peruvian music so loud the pavement under her feet shook, and by the time Lia reached the iron gate at the entrance, she was bouncing with the beat. She walked through the porch and went inside, sliding through a knot of guests as if she were meeting someone inside. After continuing toward the ladies’ room, she spun around in the hall and doubled back ito the main dining room, looking to see whether her tails had come into the restaurant or were going to stay outside. They were both in the car, which made them easy to duck; she walked back and went right through the kitchen, striding purposefully out the door and then down the alley to the side street.

A few blocks later, Lia went into a small penās or bar; the nightly show of homegrown music wouldn’t start until midnight, and the place was nearly empty. But it suited her purpose well-she planted a video bug at the front and then headed to the ladies’ room, where she used her handheld computer to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

Sure she was clear, she went out the back door. A block away, Lia found a taxi and asked the driver to take her to La Posada del Mirador, another bar popular with tourists, not far from the waterfront. Here she went up to the balcony, gazing out toward the sea. A band downstairs began playing música criolla, a catchy jazz tune that lifted her mood.

She ordered a bottle of water. When the waiter left, Lia took her handheld computer out and scanned for listening devices. Finding none nearby, she got up and went to the railing, posting a video bug there. She scanned again, then went back to her table. The balcony was about three-quarters full, and the buzz of the music was loud enough to mask her conversation if anyone tried to listen in with a parabolic mike.

“Are you with us, Lia?” asked Rockman as she got back to the table.

“Just waiting to dance.”

“Dean and Karr are in a bar a block away from you. Give them a minute; they’re ordering food.”

Lia wished they were with her, Charlie especially. She knew that would be a security risk, but she still wished he were here, that she could put her hand on his.

“Are we go or no-go?” she asked.

“The cards were definitely hacked,” replied Rockman. “We’re in the process of figuring out where the envelopes are going. I’m expecting the data any second.”

“Hey,” said Karr, his voice very distant. “Lia, how’s the beer over there?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Rockman repeated what he had said for the benefit of Dean and Karr. The cards in the vault were to be distributed the day after next, sent to different voting sites around the country.

“I say we go with the break-in plan tomorrow night then,” said Karr. “Hit the safe. Get them all in one place without anybody looking over Lia’s shoulder.”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” said Marie Telach, joining the conversation. “If you’re all up for it.”

The electronic guardians and physical barriers in the bank and vault were easy to defeat. While the area was patrolled at night, a window on the second floor of the building could not be seen by the guards outside and could be easily reached by climbing up on the roof of the neighboring building and crossing over. The video surveillance system had already been compromised; the Art Room could take it over at any point, supplying “reruns” showing all was well.

The safe itself had a mechanical lock. State-of-the-art in the late 1800s, it could be opened easily with the aid of a small unit the ops called a cracker that in effect listened to the tumblers as they turned. It might not be necessary to use it, however — the Art Room had researched old archives and discovered what they believed was the original combination, which they would try first.

A set of voter cards matching the “good” ones in the envelopes would be delivered by a special courier in the morning. They already had replacement envelopes and the tamper-evident seals; they would use them to prepare the envelopes beforehand and simply swap them once they were inside the vault.

The only real difficulty was the two guards who worked in the lobby at night. The plan was to knock them out by intercepting a tray that was delivered to them every night around 10:00 p.m. The tray always included two sealed bottles of water; they’d substitute a pair with a strong synthetic opium to make the guards fall asleep.

“What if they don’t drink?” asked Lia.

“They will,” said Karr. “They did last night and the night before. And if they don’t, Charlie nails them with the blowpipe. Right, Charlie?”

The blowpipe was a small air gun that shot a tiny dart with a muscle relaxant and barbiturate cocktail; within ten seconds of being hit by the needlelike bullet, the victim fell asleep. The sharp needle could penetrate clothes, and the drug could be calibrated to put just about anyone to sleep. But there was a downside: the needles stung when they hit.

“I can get them,” said Dean. “But they’ll realize they were hit by something before they go down.”

“We grab the needles on the way out. They’ll think they were stung by bees,” said Karr. “And if not, heck, the computer surveillance cams will show nothing happened. Nobody will believe them.”

“What do you think, Lia?” asked Telach.

“I think the regional centers will be easier. The security arrangements look like they’re nonexistent.”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” said Telach. “But according to the list we’ve decrypted on where the cards are going, we’d have to hit seven different regional centers. The security at the sites won’t be very strong, certainly nothing compared to what’s here in Lima. But the distance is considerable. One’s near the border in Chile; another is in a small city in the Amazon region near Iquitos. That’s a lot of traveling to do in only two days.”

“I’ll take three cities,” said Lia. “Tommy and Charlie can split the others.”

“Our strong preference would be to keep you together. But if you think this is too difficult—”

“Hey, come on. We can do this,” said Karr. “Lia, this is like twenty times easier than the Georgian embassy last year, right? It’s just breaking into a safe.”

“Lia, what do you think?” asked Dean.

“It’s all right with me. You and Tommy have the hard part.”