The Enemy Within

Thorn paced impatiently, matched almost step for step by Rossini. His mind whirled with the information that might be contained in those encrypted messages. Proof that a foreign government was behind this wave of terror. The hiding places and plans of the separate terrorist cells. A target.

That was what he wanted. What the whole country needed. Something or someone to focus their anger on, to strike back at to destroy. Knowing their enemy would change everything. Maybe.

“Got it!”

Thorn’s head snapped up at Kettler’s triumphant cry. He crossed to the computer expert’s side in two long strides. `‘Where?”

“There.” Kettler pointed to the blinking red light on one of his machines indicating a hard drive in operation. “I’m downloading Freebooter’s files now. Shouldn’t take more than another minute.”

This time Thorn stood impatiently by, waiting for Kettler to pull up a directory of the files he’d just received. There were more than a hundred of them, some dating back to early October when the mysterious Freebooter had first stumbled across them. Others were more recent.

“Pull that one up,” he ordered, pointing almost at random.

“Right.” Kettler complied swiftly, his own curiosity now clearly engaged.

All three men stared at the message that popped onto the display.

From: [email protected] NOV 22 00:15:35 GMT Received: from sub-ingul~by by relay7(comnet.com) with SMPT (234.281 778/M8) id AA 314935146; NOV 22 00:15:35 GMT Text follows:

*

The main body of the message was an indecipherable hash of numbers, letters, and characters.

“Go to another,” Thorn commanded. He barely noticed Rossini pulling in chairs so that they could all sit grouped around the monitor as Kettler began dancing through the encrypted messages first at random and then in chronological order.

Even a cursory check of the time/date stamp each message contained began to reveal a distinct pattern. Communications from a single, unidentified, foreign source, “Magi,” were being sent to at least ten separate users in the United States. And those users communicated only with Magi never with each other. More damning still, there appeared to be a rough correlation between the messages from Magi, the deadliest terrorist attacks, and the messages back to Magi.

Thorn felt his pulse starting to accelerate. To his trained eye, the sequence was a familiar one: operations orders and postaction damage assessment reports. He felt the strange elation of seeing a long-sought enemy moving into his sights. He was willing to stake his career on the belief that he and Rossini had found the communications network the terrorists were using to conduct their campaign.

CHAPTER 20 TRACKING

DECEMBER 2

Andrews Air Force Base, near Washington D.C.

With its navigation lights blinking steadily, an Air Force C20 Gulfstream slid down out of the night sky onto a floodlit runway. Slowing, the aircraft rolled past the control tower and darkened hangar buildings and stopped near a group of vehicles at the far end of the field.

Without ceremony, Major General Sam Farrell emerged from the transport plane, followed by several members of his staff.

Colonel Peter Thorn stepped forward to meet him at the foot of the stairs and saluted.

The head of the JSOC snapped a return salute and shook hands with him.

“How’s it going, Pete?”

“Better, sir.”

Farrell nodded. “You have those encrypted messages ready to go?”

“Yes, sir.” Thorn handed him a computer diskette. “They’re all on that.”

The general handed the disk off to a young captain. “On your way, John. Download ‘em to Fort Meade on a secure line. You know the number.”

“Sir.” The captain headed toward one of the waiting cars.

Farrell turned back to Thorn. “After I got your fax, I got on the horn with the NSA’s deputy director of operations. His people are eager to see if they can crack these mystery messages of yours.”

Thorn nodded his understanding. The National Security Agency was responsible for cryptanalysts and codebreaking. Access to its trained experts and supercomputers was essential. From what Kettler had said, only the NSA had a chance at turning the gobbledygook on that diskette into readable text. If it contained anything worth reading, that is.

“This could still be just a blind alley, sir,” he warned quietly.

Farrell shook his head. “I doubt it.” The taller man put a hand on Thorn’s shoulder. “You’re one of my best officers, Pete. I trust your instincts and judgment. That’s why I’m here instead of still down at Pope. If you’re right, this damned situation could start breaking open fast. And I want to be in a position where I can talk some sense into the Chiefs if the balloon goes up.”

Paced by Thorn and his staff, the general strode toward the vehicles waiting to take him to the Pentagon. “You ready to take this discovery of yours to the FBI task force?”