Viper Nine Read online

  ‘Well it’s not like a real conversation,’ replied Mo. ‘It’s more of an exchange of data.’

  ‘The point is,’ Anna explained, ‘we’ve been able to pinpoint the locations of each cell.’

  ‘Great,’ Driver said, turning to Mo. ‘Can you take them down from here?’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ he said. ‘It’s not that simple to execute remotely.’

  ‘Here comes the catch,’ groaned Rios, slumping in her chair.

  ‘It’s almost impossible to avoid the booby traps they’ve set,’ Mo said.

  ‘And it’s likely they’ve set more since Berlin,’ continued Anna.

  Mo cocked his head and stared at his laptop screen. ‘In theory, it’s possible, but I’d have to work in baby steps.’

  ‘How long?’ asked Wells, beating Driver to the question.

  ‘It could take months,’ Mo replied, scratching his mess of black hair.

  ‘And what if the ransom payment doesn’t work?’ Lim asked. ‘Do we trust that the attacks will stop?’

  Driver felt as sure about the situation as her impending encounter with Kovac. ‘We have to take down those cells,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way to stop Viper Nine.’

  Wells nodded. ‘At least with normal service resumed, we can hand over to the CIA, MI6, whoever wants it the most.’

  Pope demolished the remains of his chocolate bar. He screwed up the wrapper and tossed it into a nearby bin like a three-point shot. ‘Plus if it works,’ he added, ‘maybe we can squeeze a few more bucks out of the powers that be. Y’know, a kind of bonus payment.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t been paying attention,’ Rios said to the Australian. ‘But if they know Driver’s alive and they know we exist as an operation. How long before the spooks come after us?’

  Lim nodded in rueful agreement. ‘We take down those cells and it will be open season.’

  ‘We don’t take the cells down and we’re fucked anyway,’ Pope replied.

  ‘So why don’t we vote on it?’ Driver suggested. ‘Left hand, you walk out now and disappear. Right hand, you stay and fight.’ With no doubts in her own mind, she raised her right hand and held it there.

  Anna joined her and nudged a reluctant Mo. His right hand went up too, followed by Wells.

  Lim and Rios grudgingly voted to stay in at the same time as Pope raised his left. Seeing a room full of rights, he quickly switched hands.

  ‘Seeing as we’re all agreed,’ Driver said, ‘let’s worry about anonymity when it’s relevant. I’m sure Gilmore will fight our corner.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Rios laughed.

  ‘At the moment everyone thinks we’re a CIA task force,’ Wells said. ‘Maybe it’ll stay that way.’

  ‘Let’s hope to bloody fuck,’ Pope muttered, fizzing open a can of Coke.

  Driver turned to Mo. ‘What else do we know about these cells?’

  ‘The good news is, we’ve been able to pinpoint their exact locations,’ Anna said.

  ‘Well that’s a start,’ Rios replied, brightening up. ‘Where’s the first one?’

  ‘Mexico,’ Mo replied.

  Rios’ optimism died on impact. ‘Ah, shit.’

  ‘Juárez, Mexico,’ he continued.

  ‘Bad, bad fucking news,’ the Mexican said, sliding low in her chair and pulling her baseball cap over her eyes.

  ‘And the second one?’ Lim asked, leaning into the conversation.

  Anna seemed pensive. ‘Hong Kong.’

  Lim closed her eyes, as if she knew what was coming. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

  ‘You got enemies there?’ Wells asked, as if he already knew the answer.

  Lim buried her head in her hands. ‘Just a few.’

  ‘Now there are three suicide missions,’ Rios moaned.

  ‘I’m sure we can arrange safe passage in,’ Anna said.

  ‘It’s not the passage in, it’s the passage out,’ Rios explained.

  ‘Well look on the bright side, Rios,’ Driver said. ‘You’ll have Pope for company.’

  ‘That’s the bright side?’ Lim murmured, still contemplating the breaking news.

  The Latina looked up at Driver from beneath the peak of her cap. ‘You afraid I’ll disappear?’

  ‘You think you can do it alone?’ Driver argued.

  Rios sunk further in resignation, muttering curses in Spanish.

  Driver looked at Mo. ‘Where’s the third cell?’

  ‘Saudi Arabia,’ he replied.

  ‘Isn’t that where you’re headed?’ Anna asked Driver.

  ‘Then I’m definitely coming,’ said Wells.

  Driver shrugged, the argument won. ‘Do we know which cell is controlling which hacks?’

  Mo shook his head. ‘No, but if there’s one that will be sophisticated enough to hijack intelligence agencies and defence systems, it will be in Hong Kong.’

  ‘What’s so special about Hong Kong?’ Pope asked.

  ‘Because it’s the home of Attack Dog.’ Mo looked around the table. By the blank expressions, Driver figured she wasn’t the only one in the dark.

  ‘Don’t you people know anything?’ the German grumbled to himself. ‘It’s a Chinese hacking group.’

  Pope chewed on his own confusion. ‘If they’re Chinese, what are they doing in Hong Kong?’

  ‘Because there’s more freedom of movement than on the mainland,’ Lim explained.

  ‘How can we know for sure it’s this Attack Dog?’ Driver asked.

  ‘It’s in the code,’ Mo said. ‘Elvis had a look. The Beatles had a sound. Attack Dog have their own signature style of code. And man is it a masterpiece. A malware upload isn’t going to cut it.’

  ‘Then you should go with Lim,’ Driver said.

  Mo’s eyes grew to the size of cue balls. ‘What? Me?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not – I can’t—’

  Lim was quick to agree. ‘He’s not field-trained. He’ll slow me down. And I’m not a babysitter.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Mo. ‘I’m far more use to you here.’

  ‘I thought you said you couldn’t do this remotely,’ Wells said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Driver said, feeling sympathy for both Lim and Mo. ‘We’ve got no choice.’

  Lim flung her head back, puffed out her cheeks and returned her attention to the meeting. ‘Fine,’ she conceded. ‘But I can’t guarantee his safety.’

  ‘Yes you can,’ Mo said, his breath shortening. ‘You can guarantee it by leaving me here.’ He folded his arms, as if his mind was made.

  Anna poked her glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘Then why don’t I go instead? I’ve got a good enough knowledge of coding.’

  Mo let out a shriek of laughter. ‘Please, you’re having delusions of grandeur. I’m the only one here who’s anywhere near smart enough—’

  ‘Then it’s decided,’ Driver said, sharing a knowing smile with Anna. ‘You have to go.’

  She watched as the truth dawned on Mo’s face. His own hubris had pushed him right into a trap set by the savvier Miss Patel.

  Yet Driver’s own dark truth soon shifted back to the front of her own mind. She had to deliver the ransom to Kovac. And that meant walking straight into the nest of the viper.

  Chapter 23

  ‘So I just drink it and—’

  ‘Wells will pick up your signal on this,’ Anna confirmed, handing the former British agent a small, black handheld locator with a GPS map on-screen.

  Driver stared at the slim vial of clear liquid between her fingers.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Driver said. ‘It’s the thought of tiny robots floating around my system. Makes me feel wiggy.’

  ‘If it makes you feel better, they’re more like beacons, transmitting your location.’ Anna gave an encouraging nod.

  ‘Oh, beacons, why didn’t you just say?’ Driver snapped the top of the vial and necked the contents in one.

  ‘Here,’ Anna said, leaning into Wells. ‘You jus
t pair the locator with the homing signal, and voila.’

  The British operative ran the locator up and down Driver’s body. She tensed up the closer he got, though not all the tension was down to their ongoing hostilities.

  The locator beeped louder and faster as Wells ran the locator from head to toe.

  ‘You can turn down the beeping,’ Anna said, pointing to a button on the side.

  Wells pressed the button until it fell silent. Only a pulsing red hotspot on the GPS map remained.

  ‘You got the time and place for the meet?’ Anna asked, her eyes sad, as if it would be the last time she would see her old Langley colleague.

  Driver preferred to think of it more as an opportunity. To get Kovac and bring down the Saudi Arabian cell. It was better than thinking of the alternative. She tapped the pocket of her jacket with the coordinates written on a folded slip of paper.

  ‘And the account number Washington gave us?’ Wells asked.

  Driver tapped a finger against her temple.

  ‘Then let’s move,’ he said.

  Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

  The temperature outside the airport terminal was a baking forty degrees Celsius. Inside the silver Toyota Land Cruiser, the atmosphere felt like forty below. And it wasn’t down to the cool whisper of conditioned air through the blowers.

  Driver waited in the passenger seat, chewing on the silence. An eye on the clock on the dash. Another on the pick-up point across a three-lane slip road outside arrivals.

  Driver didn’t want to leave it this way, so she took a breath, removed her sunglasses and entered the breach. ‘What do you think? Can we finally have a discussion now?’

  ‘About what?’ Wells replied, feigning ignorance behind his reflective wrap shades.

  Driver wrapped her pastel-pink headscarf around her head and shoulders. ‘The one where you tell me what I’m supposed to have done.’

  Wells was unmoved, his face poker-blank.

  ‘I know it’s not about Kravchenko,’ Driver continued.

  Wells shrugged. Nothing more.

  Driver turned in her seat. ‘Look, what’s wrong, Sunny?’

  ‘Who said anything’s wrong?’

  ‘This isn’t like you. I thought we had—’ Driver hesitated. ‘I thought we were on the same page.’

  Wells breathed heavy, as if swallowing something down ‘Maybe we don’t know each other as well as we thought.’

  Driver checked the watch on her wrist. ‘Well you’ve got two minutes to say your piece.’

  Finally, he snapped. ‘It’s the tattoo.’

  ‘Tattoo?’ Driver searched her mind for an answer. A second later, it hit her like a sledgehammer. ‘The tattoo,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘When did you—’

  ‘In London, when you were running. I saw it through the camera lens.’

  Suddenly it all made sense. Wells had seen the tattoo on her ribcage. The undersized running top had betrayed her and revealed her secret.

  ‘What? No explanation? No excuse?’ Wells asked, her reflection warping in his sunglasses.

  Driver shook her head. She didn’t know where to start, the surprise robbing her of words.

  ‘It’s time,’ Wells said, staring through the windscreen.

  Driver gave him a last glance, hoping he’d look her way. He didn’t. She pulled on the door handle and stepped down into the dry wall of Saudi heat.

  Driver threw the door shut in frustration, the butterflies warming up in her belly as the Land Cruiser pulled away with a choke of exhaust fumes.

  She calmed her nerves and hurried across the road between passing traffic. Driver stepped onto the opposite pavement and waited.

  The arrivals terminal at King Abdulaziz International Airport heaved with travellers. Most were making their pilgrimage to Mecca, a hundred kilometre car journey away.

  Dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a long-sleeve linen top, Driver stepped back into the shade.

  What was a right-wing paramilitary doing in Saudi Arabia during Hajj? she asked herself. Maybe he’d converted. Or perhaps the Saudi royals were hosting his operation in return for a cut of the ransom.

  It could have been the other way round. The Saudis could have been paying him. Yet a Serb? Didn’t the Saudis back the Bosnian Muslims in Kosovo?

  As she ran through the scenarios in her mind, Driver noticed a white Mitsubishi Shogun. It moved fast along the pick-up lane and stood out among limousines and taxis.

  Driver knew instinctively it was her ride. She stepped out into the sunlight and made herself known. The 4x4 slowed to a stop at an angle, the windows blacked out.

  A rear door swung open, kerb-side, a hand beckoning her in. Driver climbed into the rear and shut the door behind her. There were three men in the car. All white and military age. The man in the back had a hood in his hand. He didn’t have to force it over Driver’s head. She took it and slipped it on of her own accord. What was it with her and hoods, Driver thought as the Shogun lurched away from the terminal.

  * * *

  Wells watched from a distance as Driver climbed in the back of the Mitsubishi off-roader. As it sped away from the entrance to the arrivals terminal, he let it go and disappear around the corner. Wells checked the GPS locator. Driver’s pulsing red hotspot was on the move. He fixed it on the dash and started the engine as an airport official knocked on the window, yelling that he couldn’t park in the taxi rank.

  Wells waved a hand in apology and pulled out into traffic. He cruised along the pick-up lane and left the airport behind, still kicking himself for waiting so long to break his silence over Driver’s tattoo. Yet as he tracked the signal onto the highway out of Jeddah, why should he feel guilty? He wasn’t the one in the wrong.

  Still, it bothered him that he’d left it that way.

  As he spotted the Shogun in the far distance, Wells settled into what was turning out to be a long drive. The Saudi desert was a vast expanse of rock and sand either side of the long, straight stretch of black tarmac through the middle. Aside from the odd shock of green crop circles, kept alive by spinning industrial sprinklers, the terrain was unrepentant.

  Wells sunk the end of a bottle of water as the Shogun cruised beyond the green highway signs for Mecca.

  The traffic thinned down to an empty highway forever disappearing into a haze of rising heat.

  He stretched his tired body and worked an aching knee, the journey time hitting two hours.

  Wells cast another glance at the GPS screen. ‘Where the hell are you taking her?’

  Chapter 24

  Juárez, Mexico

  In spite of the jet lag, Rios sat upright and wired in the passenger seat of the red Chevy pickup. Juárez was even more threatening at night. The one saving grace was the fact Pope wouldn’t notice the hanging naked bodies in the cover of darkness.

  He followed her instructions, steering the Chevy through busy streets, with gangs on every corner and spies in every window. Rios felt a curious mix of emotions. On the one hand, the crackle of gunfire visible over distant rooftops made her feel at home. On the other, she wasn’t welcome here anymore.

  Then again, was she ever?

  In the blue-glow of the lights on the dash, Pope grumbled about the lack of streetlights and signs, the bad drivers and the lumpy roads.

  ‘I don’t see why you get to drive,’ Rios said.

  ‘I called it first,’ Pope replied. ‘Besides, you’re better off being the lookout. You know where the dangers are.’

  ‘It’s Juárez,’ Rios sighed, watching her passenger mirror. ‘The dangers are everywhere.’

  ‘Why a hacking cell in a shithole like this?’ Pope asked.

  ‘Hey,’ Rios snapped. ‘This is my shithole.’

  ‘Okay, it’s your shithole,’ Pope continued. ‘Still begs the question why.’

  ‘Not so hard to figure out,’ Rios said. ‘It’s close to the US border. Easy to source people from the States and still operate under the radar.’

  ‘I bet they get dang
er money,’ the Australian chuntered.

  ‘Do you ever think of anything other than how much money you’re earning?’ Rios asked.

  ‘Sure,’ Pope replied. ‘I think of how much money I’m not earning.’

  Rios shook her head as they approached an intersection. ‘Make a right turn here.’

  She checked the GPS on her phone. It was a short drive out of the centre of Juárez to the coordinates Mo had given them. The more she thought about it, the more the city was the perfect spot for a clandestine cell.

  For starters, the city was unaffected by the hacks. No one with any real power was going to bother to save the people of her hometown, so attacks were pointless.

  Not only that, but police and officials could be bought as easy as breathing, including US agents operating over the border.

  Besides which, most people weren’t dumb enough to wander into the rural areas. Only folks like she and Pope.

  Leaving behind the slums on the outskirts of the city, the pickup bumped and bounced over broken roads. The long grass rose high either side with a pitch-dark jungle looming beyond the glare of the headlights.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Pope said, an angst in his features Rios wasn’t used to. ‘You sure we’re in the right place?’

  ‘We’re almost there,’ Rios said, pointing to the right. ‘Take the road up here.’

  Pope steered them onto a dirt track as far as a solid line of trees.

  He turned to Rios and raised a thick, hazelnut eyebrow. ‘You sure you’re sure?’

  ‘It’s gotta be here somewhere,’ Rios said, opening her door.

  The Australian followed her out as she grabbed her rifle bag from the rear of the Chevy. She hooked the bag over a shoulder while Pope armed himself with an assault rifle.

  Continuing on foot, they picked their way in through the trees.

  The jungle was dense, the air hot and humid. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Rios spotted a foot-worn trail leading up the side of a small hill. She signalled to Pope and led him up the rise, boot soles slipping on fast-crumbling dirt.

  The moon was full and lit the way as they scrambled to the top. Rios had forgotten how oppressive the air was in the height of summer and felt her black vest sticking to her skin.