Vengeance For Gabriel, page 18
Harlow continued. “Yes Matt… and you are almost there. With all of the distractions he was putting in our path while he was accessing our computer systems, what was he doing? He was not JUST testing Matt, he was...”
“Practicing!” Matt said as he realized where Harlow was leading him. Harlow was on fire.
“To what end though Harlow?” Greg asked.
Then Harlow took that almost condescending tone she loved to use when she solved a problem. “Sir, did you know our communications network security level was built and based on the 256-bit AES (Advanced Encryption Standard) which was sold to us as the best technology had to offer?”
“I do.” Greg replied.
“Well, that was true until it was not, and we upgraded recently.” Harlow was winding up for her next question. “Do you know who else uses this technology?”
“It’s widely used.” Greg replied, his patience wearing thinner by the second.
“The SWIFT banking system also uses it.” Matthew answered as it became clear why Harlow had included him on the call.
“Are you telling me after all of these bombings and riddles, Dela Cruz is planning a bank job?” The Director asked in disbelief.
Matthew remarked. “Once a thief, always a thief; a basic tenet when profiling a suspect, they rarely change their stripes. We already know he is stealing from the Chinese, why not us too?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Harlow responded and Matt continued.
“I think you may have cured my insomnia too, Harlow. I have been trying to figure out how Dela Cruz would keep his operations afloat without a large cash infusion. He appeared to need much more money coming in to continue his operations than the proceeds from his arms sales. I think our theories dovetail perfectly.”
Matt asked. “If we are right, where the hell do we start looking? How do we stop this?”
Chapter 35
The Philippines
In the Philippines, the CIA was supplying support for a covert operation with off the books funding. This operation often conducted what would best be described as illegal operations on foreign soil, which were deemed to be in the United States’ best interests. Arms trading and tracking of nuclear materials were of extreme concern to Sam Taylor. He honestly did not know Dela Cruz, and he had never crossed paths with him.
However, Sam was vaguely aware of Dela Cruz, and he did indeed have another file for The Christian. Sam was, most likely not familiar with Dela Cruz, owing to the fact that Dela Cruz never sold anything on the black market, or the dark web, or nuclear in nature. Dela Cruz manufactured to order for a select group of organizations and terrorists who were his clients. The word in the intelligence community was he specialized in small weaponry and small shoulder fired ground to air missiles, nothing significantly larger. Sam and the CIA were not interested in the small arms trading taking place in the Philippines.
What Sam was interested in, was his keeping his operation, code name Market Maker under wraps. The CIA, with assistance from global partners, kept arms dealers they wanted to do business with, in business. While at the same time they did whatever they could to eliminate those dealers that they deemed were detrimental to our national interests and the interests of our allies.
By monitoring and influencing the sales of arms they could impact levels of availability in the marketplace. Operation Market Maker did just that, providing support for political initiatives. This was of course a constantly shifting geopolitical line. Imaginary in the truest sense.
Sam Taylor had lost in his attempt to dissuade an FBI presence in Manila but now that it was happening, he started calculating how he could use this to his advantage. Unbeknownst to almost anyone, including the President, Sam was working with two other intelligence agencies monitoring the proliferation of weapons in Southeast Asia and tracking transactions that were making their way to the Middle East.
Roger and Michelle had traveled halfway around the world when they arrived at the island of Luzon, home of the Philippines capital city of Manila. Roger’s stomach was still unsettled from the flight, but his anxiety started to fade away as soon as the plane landed safely. Palo, a CIA asset embedded in Manila met Roger and Michelle at the airport and escorted them to a safe house in the inner city. This was the location from which the Manila team would operate.
The bustling city streets were more colorful and wilder than Roger and Michelle had expected. Organized chaos was the rule of the day as vehicles tried to push past merchants claiming the sidewalks for display of their wares on streets flooded with people. The locals parted ever so slowly allowing their vehicle to make headway.
Palo, had not stopped talking since he picked them up, pointing out places of interest and occasionally something important to take note of. Getting lost in these streets was inevitable for newcomers to the city, so he emphasized major landmarks on the tour that were important to recognize and remember.
When Roger and Michelle arrived at the safe house, Palo instructed them not to get out of the car. He sat for a few moments outside the walled property monitoring the activity on the street, then pulled into a driveway with an electric gate that opened and closed behind them. The safe house was a modest, poorly maintained two story home with three bedrooms. Roger and Michelle were introduced to three men dressed in casual local garb sporting trimmed beards wearing holstered side arms. Roger and Michelle looked around the room, there was a fair amount of weaponry and gear lying about.
Palo made the introductions starting with Marco, the team leader in the kitchen. Marco raised a long wooden spoon in acknowledgement. Malik was on the sofa; he stood and shook their hands. John was sitting on the windowsill watching the street, he offered a two-finger salute in place of words, then hopped off the sill and closed the shades and curtains.
The team of men, all in about their late twenties to mid-thirties, were in terrific shape. Marco came out of the kitchen with a large loaf of sliced bread and a huge bowl of orzo mixed with olives, nuts and chopped mixed greens that he placed on the sofa table.
“Welcome, just in time to eat, then we can catch up before zero hour.” The words were ominous as everyone knew the riddle had not been solved and there was a price to be paid to Dela Cruz soon.
Palo picked up their luggage. “I’ll put these in your bedroom.” Hmmm, Michelle thought, while she processed the word bedroom as singular. If Roger and she would be sharing a room, hopefully there were twin beds. Palo continued talking as he walked into another room.
“In the medicine cabinet there are some cosmetics for darkening your skin tones and in the dresser drawers there’s some clothes and accessories from local markets to help you look less American and blend in.” Marco handed each of them an encrypted satellite phone and asked if they needed firepower, to which Roger responded, while tapping his standard FBI issued Glock 19M sidearm.
“We’re good, there were no security checks at Drug Lord Airlines terminal.”
“So how was the flight?” Malik asked in a local dialect, attempting to assess their grasp of the local language. Michelle responded in the same language.
“My partner hates planes, but the flight was great, thanks for asking. We are looking forward to collaborating with you.” Malik looked to Roger, who had a mouth full of orzo and did not respond.
“No problem we will work in English.” Malik continued. “It’s not like we can hide you in a crowd, you are too pale and tall and...” He paused, addressing Roger. “And so not a local. You will need time to grow a bit of scruffy facial hair.” He said as he was rubbing his own beard.
“Are you all employed by the CIA or are you contractors?” Roger inquired.
“Employed.” Marco responded. “We primarily work here in the Philippines but have support from the surrounding mainland and larger island nation embassies working on intel with us. Roger watched for tells while asking Marco if he had received any specific instructions related to the mission. His mistrust of Sam Taylor had already created a cloud of concern about working with the CIA.
“Just the mission intel and objectives. And a specific directive to keep you and Agent Woods out of harm’s way.” Marco responded.
Marco also carefully studied the FBI agents Sam Taylor had told him to babysit. He was used to mission first assignments that often-put CIA assets in high-risk situations in the name of National Security. In an unexpected twist, Sam Taylor had told Marco the safety of the two FBI agents sitting before him was more important than the mission. Sam was not really concerned about Roger and Michelle; he was concerned about the scrutiny he and his black ops might receive if things were to go bad under Marco’s watch.
Marco continued. “I also received the briefing materials your office sent.”
There was nothing awry in Marco’s response and Roger accepted it, for its face value. Roger knew he and Marco were going to have to trust each other to make this mission work, which echoed Marco’s sentiments as he continually observed Roger.
Roger assumed Sam Taylor had selected this team personally, which was true. Sam had chosen his best field operatives in the region that were not involved with his off-book projects. As part of the CIA’s standard operating procedures, Sam maintained partitions between his assets, separating agents with different skill sets from each other, managing them all on a need-to-know basis. Sam was experienced at playing both sides, so he knew if he assisted the FBI, and steered them in the right direction it would be a win/win for him. If things went awry, Sam might need to address some collateral damage, but in his estimation, he would be able to manage that too.
The new team spent a little time getting to know each other while they ate and when they finished, Marco stood. “You will be happy to hear we have a very good lead on your man.”
“You could have led with that!” Roger said, anxiously awaiting the details. Marco signaled them to follow him into one of the bedrooms. The room was setup with a secure communications station, the walls were covered with large local maps and about a dozen photos labeled with names. Large monitors displayed aerial surveillance images, presumably from drones. There were a dozen smaller size surveillance monitors covering the exterior of the premises. There were also eight monitors showing feeds from other locations. A radio scanner was monitoring multiple frequencies, crackling with chatter.
Marco pulled a photo from a war board filled with scraps of paper. The handwriting was in English, but it was an almost incoherent scribbling. Roger mused to himself, that one of them must have been a doctor before signing on with the CIA.
“Your agency BOLO reports say you are looking for this plane.” Marco handed the photo of a small jet to Roger. “Palo has been checking airport logs, and he located this plane with tail number N555 here in Manila.”
“So, Dela Cruz is here!” Michelle exclaimed. This not only confirmed they made the right decision to come here, but they were off to a great start.
“Is it a priority to take Dela Cruz alive?” Marco asked. Roger wanted to kill the bastard and he knew Michelle shared the same sentiment, but he replied firmly.
“We would prefer him alive of course, but in any condition would be acceptable.” The team understood the implication. Michelle added. “Just so that you know, we are not the only ones looking for this man. The Chinese want Dela Cruz very badly too.”
Marco took control of the conversation. “Up until yesterday, like you, we were looking for a ghost. We had no hits on the name Dela Cruz, but we do believe we know who The Christian is. Our informants here in Manila have given us new tips to work with, and we have been conducting surveillance on a fresh face in town, who has been meeting with known arms dealers.”
“Either he has a large ‘open to buy’, or he is looking for something specific, because he is turning up everywhere and talking to anyone in the arms trafficking business who will listen.
“This Christian, as you call him, he has never been on our watchlist before. This is highly unusual in this business of excess caution and lack of trust. The word is, he is too eager to buy and making dealers nervous. They may be thinking The Christian is an undercover agent with the CIA or someone else.”
Michelle laughed at the notion, then interjected. “If this is our guy Dela Cruz, it makes perfect sense. I’ll bet he needs to make up for his production losses in Montana. Dela Cruz must be under tremendous pressure to deliver product he was manufacturing, or he would never have come into the open market.”
“Could be.” Marco said as he pulled a large envelope out from a desk drawer. He handed Roger a thin file labeled The Christian. “Sam Taylor sent this for you.”
Roger was a bit surprised Sam had coughed up the CIA’s file so quickly, he thought for sure he would have stalled a bit more. Roger took a moment to read through the four pages of the CIA’s intel on The Christian, handing the pages to Michelle as he read on. The info was stale, it confirmed what the FBI knew and provided a detailed history of Juan Dela Cruz’s early family life and terrorist activities. There was nothing current, just ancient history. Roger closed the file, extremely disappointed, Michelle came to the same conclusion.
Marco removed eight surveillance photos from the envelope, which he placed on the desk, then he laid the old file photos of Dela Cruz next to them. Michelle picked up the newer photos. The subject was difficult to identify, the camera angles were poor, which along with the sunglasses and different hats the subject wore made it impossible to tell for sure if this was Dela Cruz.
Michelle focused on the subject’s height, build and goatee. Unfortunately, there were no clear shots of his left hand. She wanted it to be Dela Cruz but could not say for sure. Marco pointed to a prominent photo in the center of the war board. “That is, Kali Jhadstan, he is a really influential person in the world of arms dealers. His vicious crew are the worst kind of killers for hire. Kali is the kingpin of arms tracking for the region; and he often operates with assistance from local law enforcement as additional security, protecting his operations. The other photos are of known arms dealers selling everything from guns to tanks, much of which is supplied by Kali. Word is he can deliver anything for the right price.”
Michelle asks, “Like short range and guided missiles?”
“Well, yes, that seems to be his thing. We have traced stuff he sold to countries as far from here as Morocco. This guy has recently had three meetings that we know of with our new player at a night club in the Southwest region. We think a transaction might be imminent.”
Chapter 36
Carlo Ramos
In the underworld, Juan Dela Cruz was known as The Christian, but to everyone else in the Philippines, he was known as Carlo Ramos. He was standing at the forward railing on the upper deck of his ultra-sleek two-hundred-and-ten-foot mega yacht. He was wearing a white button-down cotton shirt and matching pants with brown braided sandals sporting a black six-inch wooden cross on a very long and large matching beaded chain.
Dela Cruz was consuming the sun’s intense rays, enjoying the view of the Philippine coastline. He was nursing a glass of pinot noir, while biding his time. A welcome breeze wafted across the decks of the yacht that provided a bit of relief from the heat of a ninety-five-degree day.
He enjoyed the finest of everything he thought as he stood among the handful of influencers and political power brokers who regularly received invites to his grand parties. The politicians aboard courted him often, but he had no need for, or love of politics, he was never an office seeker. Dela Cruz was however a handshaker and networker, taking every opportunity to connect with the powerful people he encountered. He also paid off several local politicians, ambassadors, military leaders, and law enforcement officials, so he had a lot of friends.
Such was the dichotomy of Dela Cruz’s life as a self-educated man rising from the foul and unsanitary lawless villages of the Philippines to the pinnacle of success in the eyes of the island’s aristocratic community. He enjoyed the sophisticated pleasures of the rich.
This side of Carlo Ramos aka Juan Dela Cruz was a façade of a man who made his living brokering the very weapons that took lives around the world every day. Of the seventy or so guests aboard the yacht, only four people knew Dela Cruz prospered in the shadows of death, and these lavish gatherings were in essence the spoils of war.
The dichotomy somehow allowed him to support charitable organizations while the taking of another’s life meant nothing to him. Sometimes it came with a thrill, other times it was just a necessary means to an end. In his youth he had seen and caused so many deaths. His bombs maimed hundreds, probably thousands, he lost count. Now the weapons he traded did the same work in the hands of others. He learned early on that there would always be the next soul in line to purchase his product for a greater cause.
Carlo scanned the pool deck below him watching the scantily clad and topless sunbathers basking in the sun, wondering who he would spend the evening with when his work was done. His adrenaline was already flowing in anticipation of the havoc he was about to wreak upon the FBI. He checked his watch, the time he had patiently but eagerly been waiting for had arrived. He excused himself from a guest who was engaging him in a conversation of little interest to him and made his way through the mingling groupings of guests to his secure communications room three decks below.
Carlo Ramos, The Christian, now known to the FBI as Juan Dela Cruz, sat at his desk, and logged onto his encrypted server. He typed some commands that traveled by satellite to the other side of the earth. He opened a program he had designed, which enabled an untraceable signal he would use to stream the video he was about to send to the dark web. Dela Cruz turned on the music he had selected for this moment and an intensely powerful theme song from an opera filled the soundproof room.
His heart rate increased in speed and his blood pressure began to rise causing the veins in his neck to bulge. He looked at the photo of his deceased twin brother on the desk, made the sign of a cross, raised his right hand and kissed his ring engraved with an angel.
