Once the paperwork cleared, Gallo began probing computers overseas to see if he could snag anything interesting. He sent e-mails to computers owned by people he could track down; the e-mails contained what were essentially viruses that would help him ferret out his prey. It was a bit like fishing without bait, however; it might be hours before the e-mail was even opened.
Bored, he considered going home and getting some sleep — for about five seconds. Instead, he went to the lounge, got two Red Bulls, and came back and started looking through the in-house blog to see what the analysts had found in the data he’d help them compile.
Two things stood out. One, a lot of the people whom he had tracked down in the States didn’t exist — their names didn’t match the Social Security numbers on their bank accounts.
And two, their bank accounts were as empty as his was.
“Their bank accounts look like mine,” Gallo told the empty lab. “They’re all scraping by.” It was a definite pattern, but what did it mean?
Gallo did what he always did when he couldn’t figure something out — he lay down on the floor and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe they just used cash.
Sure. If they had it.
So many people without money, though?
So many Vietnamese people.
Actually, most of the names didn’t look Vietnamese; they were Chinese: Chan, Wang.
There were ethnic Chinese in Vietnam. A lot of them.
Why would you need so many people in a network to assassinate someone?
Well, they weren’t real people. Or they were real, but their Social Security numbers were fake.
“Oh!” shouted Gallo, jumping up from the floor.
72
Tommy Karr was a dedicated professional, personally chosen by William Rubens as a Desk Three op for his athletic abilities, intelligence, and good judgment under incredible pressure. Karr had disarmed a bomb under fire while dangling from the Eiffel Tower and captured a killer while sick with a life-threatening designer virus.
But Tommy Karr had one serious weakness: he could not ignore a cry for help from a little girl.
He made it to the backyard just as one of the two thugs was about to smack the girl a third time. Launching himself in the air, Karr put 280-some pounds into the man’s back, crushing two of the man’s vertebrae as he hammered him into the ground. For good mea sure, Karr broke the man’s jaw and cheekbone with a hard right before jumping to his feet.
The man’s companion let go of the girl and pulled out a pistol. Karr never saw the weapon — he’d already set himself into motion, bowling into his enemy before the man could click off the safety and take aim. The gun fell to the ground, as did the Vietnamese thug. Karr kicked his face soccer-style, snapping something in the man’s neck.
“Tommy, what the hell is going on?” demanded Rockman.
Karr ignored the runner. He scooped up the fallen gun and went to the three girls, who were standing a few feet away. They stared at him in amazement, tears frozen on their cheeks by awe.
“Hey, ladies, are you all right?” asked Karr. He dropped down to his knees, bringing his six-eight frame a little closer to their size.
“Yi,” said one of the girls, her voice very low. She pointed at Karr. “Yi.”
“Yeah. That’s what it is,” answered Karr. “Yi.” He smiled and nodded his head. “Yi.”
The other girls’ mouths opened even wider. The tallest girl said something Karr couldn’t understand; the others answered excitedly.
“Yi,” they started to chant. “Yi.”
“What’s that mean?” Karr asked the translator in the Art Room.
“Haven’t a clue. Those girls are speaking Chinese.” One of the girls started speaking in a soft voice. Karr nodded and smiled, hoping to encourage her. At the same time he glanced toward the thugs in the corner, making sure they were still out cold.
“Hey, Rockman, can you get someone to figure out what they’re saying?”
“Stand by.”
“Yi,” said Karr. He pointed at them. “Yi.” The little girls laughed and pointed back. “Yi.”
“Well, it’s fun, what ever it is,” said Karr. He started walking toward the corner of the building.
“Yi?” the tallest girl called after him.
“She wants to know where you are going,” said a new translator, coming onto the Deep Black communications line. Her sweet voice reminded Karr of his girlfriend’s. “Is she calling you Yi?”
“I guess.”
“Hou Yi?”
“Huh?”
The translator gave him a phrase, which Karr repeated.
This elicited a flood of sentences from the older girl.
“They think you are the Divine Archer Yi,” explained the translator. “A mythological hero. Among other things, he shot down the sun.”
“There’s something I’ve never done.”
“They want to know if you will take them to the boat,” added the translator.
“Boat? What kind of boat?”
“America?” asked one of the girls.
“You want to go to America?” Karr asked in English.
Before the translator could give him the words, Rubens cut into the line.
“Mr. Karr, I think what you are dealing with here are refugees who are hoping to escape to America,” said Rubens.
“I believe we may find that Thao Duong is a snakehead, not an assassin. A snakehead,” added Rubens dryly, anticipating Karr’s next question, “is a person who illegally smuggles immigrants overseas.”
73
Rubens turned away from the Art Room’s main screen, sour and disappointed. He’d devoted an enormous amount of resources to discovering an illegal immigrant operation.
And that was all they had to show for an operation that had included a rather large number of intercepts, data searches, and field operations.
Dean hadn’t spoken to Phuc Dinh yet; perhaps that would yield something definitive. But Infinite Burn seemed less than likely.
It could be very cleverly disguised and hidden, surely.
Robert Gallo rushed into the Art Room, breathlessly shouting Rubens’ name.
“Mr. Gallo, what can I do for you?”
“Thao Duong is a people smuggler,” said Gallo. “I’ve been analyzing his network and—”
“The term is ‘snakehead,’ ” said Rubens. “Good work, Mr.
Gallo. Ms. Telach, prepare a dossier of the pertinent information for the Immigration Ser vice and FBI. And then get some sleep please. You, too, Mr. Gallo,” Rubens added. “And by that I mean in a proper bed, at home, not on the floor of your lab.” gallo returned to his lab to find Angela DiGiacomo beaming at him. He was feeling pretty confident after talking to Rubens — almost enough to ask for a date.
But she spoke first.
