Chimera

CHAPTER 26

The National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Laboratory, Ashland, Oregon

Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt and Special Agent in Charge Fred Schweer sat in the main conference room of the National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Laboratory, and stared across the table at three white-lab-coated forensic scientists — Steve Hager, Donn Renwick and Juliana Ferreira — who sat calmly behind their individual stacks of lab notes and case files.

They were all waiting with varying degrees of patience for the triangular conference-call system positioned in the center of the small conference table to ring back.

Schweer, by far the least technically-astute member of the group, was staring at the no-longer-familiar-looking communication device like it might suddenly lunge out and bite him if he didn’t hit it first.

In the time since their first call to Thailand that morning, the U.S. Fish amp; Wildlife Service Forensics Lab’s conference-call device had been significantly modified by the lab’s chief computer expert. There were now three separate electronic ‘black-boxes’ linked between the conference phone and the lab’s security phone line, and cross-connected with a dizzying array of cables; all three of which were rigged with big mushroom-like ON/OFF buttons that were all glowing a bright green.

The instructions left by Linda Reston — the lab’s the decidedly distracted technical support chief — were simple and to the point:

“If any one of those buttons turns red,” she’d said, meeting the gaze of every scientist and agent in the conference room, one at a time, “you hit it with your fist, immediately, and then come tell me about it. Any questions?”

“If more than one button turns red, which one do we hit first?” Schweer had asked reasonably.

“In the highly unlikely event that should happen, you immediately grab the phone line, rip it out of the wall, and then come tell me about it,” Reston had replied matter-of-factly before collecting up her tools and heading back to the lab’s Technical Support Section, where she had far more significant problems waiting.

That had been a half hour ago. They were still waiting for the call-back.

“Rip it out of the wall? Was she serious?” Schweer asked.

“Yes, I’m sure she was,” Ferreira replied.

“Definitely serious,” Hager added.

“And since you’re the closest one to the phone line, you’re the one she’s going to blame if you don’t rip it out quickly enough and the hackers get into our servers during our call,” Renwick pointed out.

Schweer seemed to contemplate that idea for a few seconds. “All of this really is your fault, you know,” he finally said to no one in particular.

The three forensic specialists raised their eyebrows collectively.

“Scientists, as a whole,” Schweer clarified, glaring at the white-coated figures, “definitely all your fault.”

The three forensic specialists looked at each other and shrugged. None of them seemed particularly concerned about the comments being made by the SAC of Special Operations… mostly because he wasn’t in their chain-of-command, but also because they’d been hearing variations on that general theme all morning.

“It’s true,” Schweer went on when he failed to get the hoped-for defensive response from the amused scientific specialists. “When I joined the Service, way back when, the life of a federal wildlife agent was pretty damned simple and straight-forward. Catch a guy with an over-limit of ducks, geese, deer, elk, bear, whatever; check his tags and license; write him up; petition the courts to revoke his hunting privileges; and then go on to the next guy. No pieces, parts and products to worry about; no hybridized species; no DNA testing complicating the issue of what the victim was or wasn’t; no god-damned computers for good ‘ol Bubba and his kids to hide their guide lists and jay-pegs in; and absolutely no god-damned spooks sticking their noses in our business where they don’t belong. Fact is, the way I see it, everything was going along just fine until you scientists started using all these expensive toys of yours to push the envelope.”

The three white-coated scientists looked at each other again and shrugged agreeably.

“Of course that was back when the agents and game wardens had to catch their suspects in the act or in possession — when they were still armed with a scoped rifle or shotgun, and were far more dangerous — because we didn’t have the tools and techniques to match the gut pile from a crime scene back to blood or tissue at the suspect’s house,” DNA specialist Juliana Ferreira reminded.

“And that was before we had automated international fingerprint databases capable of matching a partial latent lift off a cartridge casing to a suspect from another state or country,” latent print specialist Steve Hager added.

“And definitely before we had a computerized bullet and cartridge case system to link up firearms evidence from a single gun to poaching scenes all over the world,” firearms examiner Donn Renwick finished with a cheerful smile.

“Not to mention the fact that if their lab director hadn’t pushed a whole bunch of envelopes, in between driving you duck-cops up the wall, you wouldn’t even have snooping crime scene investigators like me on the force, much less a wildlife crime lab capable of pissing off nosey spooks,” Bulatt pointed out helpfully.

“A mixed blessing at best,” Schweer grumbled. “And speaking of the devil, what the hell was your boss doing in DC when all this started anyway? I thought he was supposed to stay here and keep you people from getting into trouble.”

“As I understand the situation, he was back there trying to con the government into buying us some more expensive toys,” Ferreira replied.

“So we can continue to push our envelopes, and make things more complicated for everyone; good guys and bad guys alike,” Hager added.

“Which nobody told us included a bunch of spooks; but I don’t know that we really care, because that’s what we do for a living anyway,” Renwick finished with a cheerful smile. “No real problem to pick on them, too, while we’re at it.”

“Using a couple of fourteen-year-old juvenile delinquents?” Schweer was starting to look apoplectic.

“Well, no, not normally,” Renwick conceded. “But they’re better at it than we are, in their own area of expertise.”

“Truly evil little bastards,” Hager agreed.

“Fact is, after that first little incident, back when they were twelve, the boss never lets them anywhere near the lab any more — much less near any of our computers — because he doesn’t trust them,” Ferreira added.

“Not that anyone else around here trusts them, either; specifically including their mother,” Hager pointed out.

“You think your boss trusts them now?” Schweer sputtered.

“No, probably not,” Renwick acknowledged, “I think he’s just pissed because the CIA and NSA crime lab directors back in DC slammed the doors in his face this morning when he tried asking for the latent print information nice and friendly-like; and then started ripping into our firewalls right after he left; so he decided to go nuclear.”

“Nuclear?” Shweer’s eyes widened in alarm.

“So to speak,” Ferreira shrugged.

“Yeah, I just hope the kids don’t fry anything expensive, like one of those Cray’s,” Hager added. “Washington Office would probably try to take it out of our budget.”

“What’s a Cray?” Schweer asked.

“Supercomputer,” Renwick explained. “NSA buys them by the dozen.”

“How much do they cost?”

Renwick shrugged. “Depends on how many tera-flops you want.”

“Tera-what??”

“Flops, meaning operations per second, and tera meaning trillion,” Hager explained. “Basically, lots of very fast flopping.”

“And the prices are coming down,” Ferreira pointed out. “The new ones only cost a couple hundred million, give or take.”

“Those kids are going to try to fry a — ” Schweer couldn’t get the words out of his suddenly constricted throat.

“Not fry, really,” Hager said. “More like tug on.”

“Exactly,” Renwick nodded in agreement.

“Tug on?” Schweer was definitely looking apoplectic now.

“Yeah, think of a big tinker-toy structure, made up of lots of extremely powerful computers, all connected together three-dimensionally, and all sending out lots of little tentacles that try to probe at doors and brick walls,” Ferreira explained.

“These kids are going to tug at a tentacle — ?”

“Actually, if they can get a good grip on one, they’re probably going to try to rip it out by its roots,” Renwick corrected.

“And then what?” Schweer’s mouth had dropped open.

“Good question.” Renwick shrugged. “I imagine it’s going to hurt.”

“Jesus — ”

“Might as well face it, boss,” Bulatt said, leaning back in his chair and smiling at to his stunned boss, “you’re a technological dinosaur, at best, and I’m rapidly heading toward — ”

The jury-rigged conference-call system rang, and Bulatt lunged for the ANSWER button.

“Hello?” he queried.

“Khun Ged?”

“Hello, Achara, it’s good to hear your voice again.” Bulatt smiled pleasantly, ignoring the raised eyebrows and suspicious looks passing between the three forensic scientists and his SAC boss.

“And good to hear your voice as well, Khun Ged. As you requested, I now have Biology Professor Chalermchai and Chief Narusan here as well, and we are now speaking on a secure Interpol line.”

“Excellent,” Bulatt exclaimed happily. “Professor Chalermchai, Chief Narusan, I have here with me this morning my supervisor, Special Agent in Charge Fred Schweer, the commander of our Special Operations Branch; Dr. Juliana Ferreira, our chief geneticist; Donn Renwick, our senior firearms examiner; and Steve Hager, our senior latent print examiner. As I told Captain Kulawnit, I’m calling to make you aware of some things our forensics lab staff discovered with respect to your evidence, and make you aware of some other on-going issues as well. I’m going to ask Dr. Ferreira to speak first because her information, I think, is the most crucial.”

Bulatt nodded to Ferreira who leaned in toward the speaker.

“Professor Chalermchai,” Ferreira began, “the information I have involves the two Clouded Leopards that Agent Bulatt sent to us from Thailand. In examining the carcasses, and collecting samples for our analysis, we discovered that both animals have considerable numbers of nano-tube-based genetic probes in their blood and tissues. Are you familiar with these materials?”

The men around the conference table could hear the Thai biology professor hesitate. “I’m familiar with the theory that nano-tube structures might, someday, be used as a transport mechanism for gene manipulation; but I’m not aware that such materials have actually been applied to wildlife populations.”

“This is the first application we’ve seen, also,” Ferreira replied. “As I’m sure you’re aware, these nano-tube probes can easily pass through cell and nuclear membranes, including human skin; which makes them potentially very dangerous to the handlers. But, according to theory, the probes should be destroyed by the liver before they ever managed to escape the animal’s blood stream. Unfortunately, it seems that theory is no longer valid, because we found large numbers of the intact probes in the leopard’s saliva.”

“Oh, dear,” Professor Chalermchai whispered.

“On the positive side, based on the attached DNA segments, we believe these particular probes were specifically configured to increase the body mass of felines such as the Clouded Leopard. As such, they shouldn’t have any direct impact on humans; but as a safety precaution, we would strongly suggest you decontaminate your laboratory and any other facilities and personnel who might have come in contact with these animals as soon as possible. I faxed you the procedures we use for such situations a few minutes ago, and I’m sure there are several other neutralizing protocols that work equally well.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Ferreira, I will see to that precaution immediately.” The sound of a scraping chair and then an opening door was audible to the men in the Ashland conference room.

“Dr. Ferreira,” Achara Kulawnit broke in, “I gather from your comments that you believe these leopards were deliberately enhanced in size with an experimental genetic probe, and I understand from Professor Chalermchai that such research is not being conducted anywhere in Thailand. As such, do you have any idea where these leopards might have come from?”

“No, I don’t,” Ferreira replied, “but we’re assuming, for the moment, that the leopards were brought into Thailand and let loose in the Wildlife Preserves by the suspect guides in this case. I’ve put out confidential queries to a few of my trusted geneticist colleagues to see if we can figure out who might have jumped the gun on this experimental technology, hopefully without alerting the perpetrator in the process. I’ll contact you and Professor Chalermchai the moment I hear anything of interest.”

“Yes, please do. Thank you.”

“Captain Achara,” Bulatt broke in, “Steve Hager, our latent print expert, has some information that may be of use to you and the Chief.”

Bulatt nodded to Hager who leaned in toward the speaker.

“Yes, I wanted you both to know that I processed all of the internal component parts of the M4 carbine and flashers that agent Bulatt brought to us from Thailand. And I’m sorry to say that I found no latent prints on any of the components. In fact, it’s fairly obvious from the oil smears that the individuals who handled the weapon — including disassembling and cleaning — wore gloves the entire time.”

Achara sighed. “I suppose we should have expected these men to be careful about leaving incriminating evidence. I’m surprised they were so careless about that remote battery that Chief Narusan processed.”

“I am too,” Hager agreed, “but I took that latent that the Chief found and sent electronic copies of it to several federal fingerprint database search engines. They all came back negative, which wouldn’t have been all that unusual, especially in an international case like this, except for the fact that one of the responses — the one from our Defense Department — came back almost instantaneously instead of hours later, like all of the others. I understand a similar situation occurred when Agent Younger sent that same print to his Interpol people.”

“I’m sorry,” Achara said, “but I’m not sure I understand.”

“Donn and I send out hundreds of queries to federal fingerprint and firearm databases every week, and we never get instant responses back,” Hager explained. “Probably because we’re working ‘bunnies and guppies’ cases that have a lower priority in the greater scheme of things; which is perfectly understandable, and fine with us, as long as we do get a response back within some reasonable time-frame. But in this case, the instant response seemed a little curious — not to mention suspicious — so we asked Linda Reston, our senior computer wizard to take a look at the response.

“At this point, I’m going to let Donn explain what Linda found out,” Hager said, nodding to Renwick. “I’m talking a little over my head here.”

“What Linda did was look at the packet-distribution data that’s attached in a ‘behind-the-scenes’ manner to every e-mail message traveling through the Internet,” Renwick said, leaning in toward the conference microphone. “When she didn’t like what she saw, she queried the chain of individual servers across the United States that received and transmitted the packets of data that comprised the response message.”

“Yes, I understand that part,” Achara said. “What did she discover?”

“That the message we received was an automated response from a fingerprint data search engine we’d never heard of, probably because it seems to be located within our National Security Agency; or, more likely, I suppose, at one of their off-site facilities.”

“Am I correct: you did say ‘search engine’ and not ‘database’?” Achara asked.

“Yes, Linda was very specific about that,” Renwick replied. “She believes this is a system specifically programmed to look for a small subset of subjects.”

“But it did send back a response as if it was a database?”

“Yes, according to Linda, that’s correct. Only the response wasn’t sent back to us, it was sent back to the Defense Department search engine. What we got was a copy of the response, probably transmitted back to us accidentally — again according to Linda — because the DOD server that did the transmitting is no longer operational as of two hours ago. And, at this point, I’m talking over my head also.”

“Uh, I don’t wish to be impolite, Mr. Renwick, but could I please speak to Linda directly?” Achara asked.

“Yes, you could, except for the fact that approximately an hour and half hour ago, someone made a very determined and very professional attempt to penetrate the firewalls that protect our lab server systems,” Renwick replied. “At the moment, Linda and three of her sub-wizards are engaged in what sounds to us — if we’re interpreting her cussing and their activities correctly — like electronic warfare.”

“This sounds terribly serious,” Achara said quietly, the concern audible in her transmitted voice.

“Serious enough that Linda asked and received permission from our lab director to bring her fourteen-year-old twins in to help,” Hager commented.

“Her own children… really?” There was a pause. “Are they, uh, sufficiently experienced to help defend against a professional probe?”

“Actually, their forte doesn’t seem to be defense,” Ferreira corrected.

“Oh.” Another pause. “Is your lab director authorized to do something like that, against another federal agency?”

“I don’t think he asked,” Renwick said. “I gather he’s still a little irritated at the moment. I’m sure the shit will hit the proverbial fan at some point; but I guess that’s what he gets paid for.”

“Then I suppose we should assume this conversation is being monitored?” Achara asked after a moment.

“I don’t think so,” Renwick said. “According to Linda, your call-back was linked through an encrypted Interpol line at our end that would take NSA and their supercomputers several years to break into; and she also made some alterations to our conference phone which she claims will send out an extremely high frequency jamming signal that should fry any unauthorized device that attempts to link into our conference call. I probably should explain that we stole Linda from the CIA a couple of years ago, and she looked pretty pissed — but also pretty determined — when she was working on our conference phone, so I assume she knows what she’s doing.”

“And the twins?”

“As of fifteen minutes ago, they were working side-by-side at a pair of terminals next to their mom’s workstation, and occasionally whispering to each other. I assume she’s keeping an eye on them; but, to tell you the truth, I don’t think any of us really want to know,” Hager said.

“But, in the meantime, Captain Kulawnit,” Bulatt broke in, “on the assumption that we may be dealing with a rogue element within the intelligence community, we’re going to try a more conventional approach to resolving the issue.”

“Really, what’s that?”

“We believe the security clearance my boss — Special Agent in Charge Schweer — holds will be high enough to give him access to that latent print information we’re requesting if he makes direct contact with the appropriate people at our Pentagon and our National Security Agency.”

Schweer leaned toward the conference phone.

“Yes, that’s correct, Captain Kulawanit,” Schweer confirmed. “I’m flying back to Washington DC later this morning in an attempt to do just that. And if I discover my clearance level isn’t sufficient, I assure you that I’ll find someone with the necessary clearance if I have to go all the way to the Director of the Fish and Wildlife Service himself. No government agency should be attempting to hack into our federal crime lab servers; and I seriously doubt that any individual in our military forces — active, retired or otherwise — has been authorized to shoot at Thai Rangers, much less a member of Interpol. Someone will give us that information.”

“That’s wonderful, Agent Schweer,” Achara said somberly. “We will all be most grateful for your efforts.”

“Perfect job for a guy with a T-Rex personality,” Ferreira stage-whispered to Hager, who grinned and nodded in agreement.

“What was that?” Schweer growled, glaring at the two scientists.

“Ah, I was suggesting to Mr. Hager that I’m sure the intelligence community will be looking forward to your arrival, sir.” Ferreira smiled cheerfully.

“And, finally,” Bulatt broke in again before the playful forensic harassment of his boss got out of control, “I wanted you to hear from Donn Renwick, our firearms expert, regarding his work in this case.”

Renwick replaced Schweer at the microphone.

“Yes, Captain Kulawanit, Chief Narusan, Donn Renwick here. First of all, I want you to know that ran a background check on that M-Four carbine and determined that it was manufactured in the United States on October twenty-fourth, two-thousand-and-four, for our Military Special Forces Command. The weapon was officially transferred to Afghanistan on March seventh, two-thousand-and-five, as part of a re-supply drop for our troops hunting down bin-Laden; and was never heard from again, until a few days ago.”

“Are you saying our suspects may be American Special Forces personnel?” Achara asked, sounding shocked.

“Not necessarily,” Renwick replied. “Several of our allies dispatched Special Forces or Commando teams to Afghanistan in two-thousand-and-five, many of whom had access to U.S. weaponry; and I have no doubt our soldiers distributed U.S. weapons and ammunition to NATO and friendly Afghan troops. And if you add to that all of the firearms lost or stolen during that conflict, there are clearly many ways this specific M-Four carbine could have ended up in the hands of your suspects.”

“But would it be fair to say there’s an obvious link to soldiers with Special Forces training; especially considering the possible intelligence agency issues?”

Renwick turned to Schweer with a shrug, as if to say ‘your bailiwick.’

“Yes, that would seem to be the case,” Schweer said into the microphone. “I’ll have our office run a link analysis; but I think it’s fair to say the information we have so far corresponds nicely with Chief Narusan’s crime scene report.”

“I think very much, yes, a professional soldier who did shooting,” Narusan agreed.

“Also,” Renwick went on, “I helped Steve disassemble the rifle for latent print processing… and, in doing so, examined the individual parts fairly closely. Apart from some corrosion and recent impact damage, the weapon was well-maintained and otherwise in excellent condition, with very little wear on the bolt, chamber, barrel and firing pin. In my opinion, it hadn’t been fired very often; possibly only a few dozen rounds.”

“Use once, throw away; very smart, very professional.” Chief Narusan chuckled audibly.

“Yes, I think the Chief is correct on all counts,” Renwick said. “It’s probably not likely that we’ll ever be able to match this rifle to any other crime scenes; but I entered the bullet and cartridge data into NIBIN anyway, just to be safe.”

“Thank you very much for your efforts, Mr. Renwick; and all the rest of you as well,” Achara said. “It seems we are making some progress on this investigation, after all. If nothing else, we are certainly ruffling some powerful feathers.”

“A couple more things, Captain Achara,” Bulatt broke in again. “First of all, I think we may have located the manufacturer of the flashers found on the Clouded Leopards and at Tanga Island. I’m going to be checking on them tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you know what I find out as soon as I can.”

“Excellent. That would be very helpful for us,” Achara replied.

“Also,” Bulatt went on, “one of our lab’s electronics experts took a look at the photos you sent of the internal mechanisms of that remote transmitter. As best they can tell, with a nine-volt battery, the device should only be capable of activating flashers within a hundred-meter range. But they also say there’s no reason why the Chief couldn’t construct a new transmitter with much more power that operates on the same frequencies. It occurred to me that you might have other animals in your Wildlife Preserves with similar flashers attached to their necks — or, perhaps, a hidden stockpile of the flashers — that such a device might help locate, much to the dismay of our suspects. I asked our expert to fax the relevant technical information to the Chief at your office, and I believe he’s already done so.”

Chief Narusan laughed delightedly. “Yes, very good idea, Kuhn Ged. I will make new transmitter right away; easy to do.”

“I believe that’s all we have at the moment, Captain Achara,” Bulatt spoke into the microphone, and then looked quickly around the conference table. “Anything else, guys?”

“One more thing for the Chief,” Renwick said. “We’re assuming our wealthy hunter used an expensive rifle on his Thai hunt that he’s not likely to throw away after every illegal kill. As such, during your continuing search for evidence, we hope you can find an expended bullet or cartridge casing from this weapon that we can enter into our NIBIN system.”

The sound of muted and otherwise unintelligible conversation back and forth could be heard through the sensitive conference phone speaker for a few seconds. Then Achara voice came back on the air.

“Chief Narusan has asked me to inform you that — in addition to his temporary assignment as my primary crime scene examiner — he was recently designated the official CSI officer for his ship, the Sawaeke Pinsinchai. And as such, the Chief wants me to assure you that he will find these items if he has to search the entire southern peninsula of Thailand on his hands and knees, meter by meter. And with that, gentlemen, we wish you well in your endeavors, and bid you goodbye; the Chief and I have work to do.”