because he got drunk one night and bragged about his financial plunders to the wrong person.
At the time, Dumond was living with Steven Rapp, Mitch’s younger brother. When the older Rapp heard about Dumond’s problems with the FBI, he called Irene Kennedy and told her the hacker was worth a look.
Langley doesn’t like to admit that they employ some of the world’s best computer pirates, but these young cyber geeks are encouraged to hack into any and every computer system they can. Most of these hacking raids are directed at foreign companies, banks, governments, and military computer systems. But just getting into a system isn’t enough. The challenge is to hack in, get the information, and get out without leaving a trace that the system was ever compromised.
The wiry Marcus Dumond poked his head out the open door, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a pair of thick glasses perched on his nose.
“Commander Harris, can you tell your men to cut a hole in the tarp? I have to raise my communications boom.”
Harris turned to one of his nearby men and told him to cut the hole.
Dumond then stepped out of the van with a large fanny pack. Over by the box van, a long folding table had been set up and a series of blueprints and schematics were being taped to the side of the van. Portable red-filter lights provided limited lighting and gave everyone’s face an eerie, sallow look.
Setting the pack atop the table, Dumond opened it and extracted a small black object. Holding it in front of Rapp, Harris, and finally Adams, he said, “Micro video-and-audio surveillance unit. You guys have both used these, right?” Rapp and Harris nodded. The objects were about an inch and a half thick, about four inches long, and about three inches across.
At the top of the unit was a small, thin bump about the size of a pen tip. The tiny, highly sensitive microphone was encased in black foam.
Next to it was a thin three-inch fiber-optic cord, at the end of which was a tiny lens.
Dumond turned to Adams.
“These little babies have two settings, regular and pulse. The regular will last about three days, and the pulse will give you almost twelve.
The pulse still supplies full audio but only gives a snapshot every five seconds.”
Dumond shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s up to you guys how you want to use them, but I would suggest a little of both… Just in case.” Flipping the small unit over, Dusoaad said, “I’ve attached Velcro to the back of every unit. Here”-Dumond picked up a plastic bag-“are the corresponding Velcro patches. I’ve also thrown in these little alcohol wipes to clean the surface before you attach the Velcro patch, especially if you’re in a place where there’s a lot of dust, like a ventilation duct. I’ve packed twelve black and twelve white units.”
Dumond turned to Rapp. “You know the routine. Install them at choke points and areas of high traffic. I can maneuver the cameras a little bit from remote, but I advise against it. It burns a lot of juice, so try to give us a good angle when you set them up. Any questions?” Dumond paused, giving them a chance, and then said, “Good, let’s check your communications and get you on your way.”
Dumond led the three men over to the blue van and retrieved two secure radios and headsets. Dumond had already checked out the units on the way over from Langley. Turning Adams around, Dumond placed the radio in a specially designed pocket that sat just above his left shoulder blade.
Dumond then placed the headset on Adams and showed him how to adjust the lip mike. In the meantime, Rapp placed his radio in his vest and turned his black baseball cap backward.
Over the top of the cap he secured the headset and checked the mike with Harris.
After they were positive the units worked properly, Dumond cautioned, “I’m probably going to lose you guys as you go through the tunnel. The jammer they are using to black out the president’s bunker is creating a dead zone. All our sensors tell us that the interference dissipates as you reach the upper levels of the mansion, so I want you to come up to the second floor as quickly as you can and reestablish radio contact.”
Dumond reached back into the van and grabbed another pack. “I’m also going to give you this secure field radio. It has more range and power.
And I put some extra radio batteries in here just in case.” Dumond held up a small black nylon pack.
Rapp looked at the radio pack and started to wonder if he’d be able to carry all of the equipment through the shaft.
Then responding to Dumond’s statement, Rapp replied, “We’ll try to get to the second floor, but I can’t promise anything until I get in there and see what they have. If everything is booby trapped we might not even get out of the basement.”
“I’ll get us out of the basement,” Adams said confidently.
Rapp took the second pack from Dumond and asked, “Anything else for us?”
“Nope.” Dumond stuck out his fist, and Rapp did the same. Banging Rapp’s once on top and once on the bottom, Dumond said “Good luck, Mitch. “Then looking to Adams, he said, “Try and keep this guy out of trouble, will you?”
“I will.” Adams smiled.
Rapp thanked Dumond and grabbed Adams. As they walked back over to the Suburban, Rapp’s thoughts turned to something he’d been debating for most of the day. The question was whether to arm Adams with a weapon.
Rapp’s concern was not whether Adams could shoot straight enough to hit anything, but whether he would accidentally shoot Rapp in the back. It was no small concern considering the fact that the Special Forces community rarely went a year without someone accidentally getting shot, and those people were cream of the crop.
With reservation, Rapp asked, “Milt, what do you think about bringing a gun with you, just in case?”
Adams reached into his pocket and pulled out a.357 revolver. “I already have one.”
Surprised, Rapp extended his hand.
“May I?” Adams handed him the gun, and Rapp immediately recognized it as a Ruger Speed-Six. Before automatics became all the rage with cops, the Speed-Six was a popular, dependable gun for a lot of police departments.
The barrel was short, making it easy to draw, and since it was a revolver, jamming was not an issue. Rapp considered for a moment if he should give Adams one of his own silenced weapons and then decided against it. He would just as soon have Adams use a gun he was comfortable with. Besides, if it ever got to the point where Adams had to start shooting, they’d already be well past the point of stealth.
Rapp handed him the gun back and asked, “Do you want a holster?”
Adams shook his head. “Naw… I’m used to carrying it in my pocket.”
“All right.” Rapp stood awkwardly for a second looking down at the tiny Adams, wondering if he really knew what he was getting himself into.
Adams sensed Rapp’s mood.
“Don’t worry about me, Mitch. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was the right thing.”
Rapp smiled and nodded with more respect than Adams could have guessed.
The right thing, he thought to himself.
What a difference between his generation and Milt’s.
Rapp took the next five minutes to get his gear together.
With all of his weapons, communications equipment, surveillance equipment, and some limited rations, his gear weighed more than seventy-five pounds. Because of the tight space of the shaft, he and Harris had decided it would be best if he towed it behind him with a rope.
Finally, with all of their equipment assembled, Rapp, Adams, and Harris waited at the fence line for the green light.
IN A WINDOWLESS room on the seventh floor of the main building at Langley, a select few had gathered to monitor the progress of Mitch Rapp and Miltadamsthe room was strikingly similar to a television network control booth. On the main wall was a bank of nineteen-inch monitors, four rows of them, running ten across. In front of the monitors, at a slightly elevated table, sat four technicians. At their disposal was the latest in video-production equipment. Behind them, and elevated still further, sat Dr. Irene Kennedy, General Campbell, and several of their
