Black Flagged (The Black Flagged Technothriller Series) by Steven Konkoly Page A
Book: Black Flagged (The Black Flagged Technothriller Series) by Steven Konkoly
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Authors: Steven Konkoly
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hours, if not longer."
"I understand, sir. But once these files are secured, we won't have another chance," Sanderson uttered.
"You'll have ample opportunity, I'm sure of it. Even if they suddenly shut down access to the file, you'll be the first to know. I trust your skills, Colonel. We've known each other for a long time."
Colonel Farrington's beeper vibrated, and he checked the number. "I have to go, sir. Looks like a few of our guests might be leaving earlier than I expected."
"Understood. Keep me posted," the general said, and the line went dead.
Farrington ensured the cell phone was placed in meeting mode, to keep it silent, and grabbed his desk phone. He pressed one of the conference call buttons and was immediately connected to Staff Sergeant Brodin within the Sanctum.
"Sir, Mr. Keller wishes to depart the Sanctum," she informed him.
"That was fast. I'll be right there," he replied and glanced at the Sanctum's security door adjacent to his cubicle.
"And sir?" she whispered.
Colonel Farrington continued to listen without responding. Sergeant Brodin lowered her voice even further.
"I think Keller might be eidetic."
"Interesting. How long did he look through the files?"
"Six minutes. He didn't appear to do much more than glance at the sheets, like he wasn't really paying attention. McKie didn't appear to be bothered by it. I just thought you should know, sir."
"That's why I have you in there, Staff Sergeant. I'll be right over," he said and hung up the phone.
A photographic memory. Very interesting.
Fifty feet away, Julio Mendez shook his head from the safety of his "office."
Chapter Seventeen
4:05 p.m.
Safe House, Alexandria, Virginia
General Sanderson sat at a dark brown Shaker-style table in an apartment on the outskirts of Alexandria, Virginia. He had recently acquired the unit through a real estate holding company owned by a loyal, longtime friend, a powerful friend who had more to do with the day's events than simply providing an untraceable real estate purchase.
Sitting at the rectangular table, he faced a sliding glass door that led to a modest balcony two stories above a lush garden and small, undisturbed pool. Thick curtains gave him privacy from prying eyes on other balconies and reduced the glare from a bright, declining sun. A stainless steel refrigerator hummed behind him and marked the beginning of a granite and cherry cabinet appointed kitchen that filled the space to his immediate left. A sizable, sparsely furnished media room loomed to his right, containing a simple dark leather couch, coffee table and wall-mounted flat-screen television. Empty built-in bookshelves flanked the television.
The general alternated his attention among three laptop computers situated in a semi-circle on the table. A tangle of wires extended over the back of the table, split between a massive power strip and a broadband modem jammed at odd angles on one of the chairs. He confirmed Petrovich's flight schedule and picked up one of five cell phones sitting on the table next to the computers. Each one was plugged into a charger connected to the same power strip as the computers.
He dialed Parker.
"Sir?"
"Our guest should be arriving shortly. I want you to pick him up and find a rental car agency well away from the airport. Rent a car in your name and give him your SUV. I don't expect our friends to piece things together this quickly, but we can't take any chances. Take him to my place north of the city, and wait for instructions. Make sure to outfit our friend well. I may need him at a moment's notice."
"Understood, sir. I'm a few minutes away from the airport. Any word from Farrington?"
"Everything is in place. We're just waiting for the right moment. Let me know when the two of you have arrived safely," the general said and closed the phone.
Chapter Eighteen
4:13 p.m.
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
The first encrypted fax from the Pentagon
"I understand, sir. But once these files are secured, we won't have another chance," Sanderson uttered.
"You'll have ample opportunity, I'm sure of it. Even if they suddenly shut down access to the file, you'll be the first to know. I trust your skills, Colonel. We've known each other for a long time."
Colonel Farrington's beeper vibrated, and he checked the number. "I have to go, sir. Looks like a few of our guests might be leaving earlier than I expected."
"Understood. Keep me posted," the general said, and the line went dead.
Farrington ensured the cell phone was placed in meeting mode, to keep it silent, and grabbed his desk phone. He pressed one of the conference call buttons and was immediately connected to Staff Sergeant Brodin within the Sanctum.
"Sir, Mr. Keller wishes to depart the Sanctum," she informed him.
"That was fast. I'll be right there," he replied and glanced at the Sanctum's security door adjacent to his cubicle.
"And sir?" she whispered.
Colonel Farrington continued to listen without responding. Sergeant Brodin lowered her voice even further.
"I think Keller might be eidetic."
"Interesting. How long did he look through the files?"
"Six minutes. He didn't appear to do much more than glance at the sheets, like he wasn't really paying attention. McKie didn't appear to be bothered by it. I just thought you should know, sir."
"That's why I have you in there, Staff Sergeant. I'll be right over," he said and hung up the phone.
A photographic memory. Very interesting.
Fifty feet away, Julio Mendez shook his head from the safety of his "office."
Chapter Seventeen
4:05 p.m.
Safe House, Alexandria, Virginia
General Sanderson sat at a dark brown Shaker-style table in an apartment on the outskirts of Alexandria, Virginia. He had recently acquired the unit through a real estate holding company owned by a loyal, longtime friend, a powerful friend who had more to do with the day's events than simply providing an untraceable real estate purchase.
Sitting at the rectangular table, he faced a sliding glass door that led to a modest balcony two stories above a lush garden and small, undisturbed pool. Thick curtains gave him privacy from prying eyes on other balconies and reduced the glare from a bright, declining sun. A stainless steel refrigerator hummed behind him and marked the beginning of a granite and cherry cabinet appointed kitchen that filled the space to his immediate left. A sizable, sparsely furnished media room loomed to his right, containing a simple dark leather couch, coffee table and wall-mounted flat-screen television. Empty built-in bookshelves flanked the television.
The general alternated his attention among three laptop computers situated in a semi-circle on the table. A tangle of wires extended over the back of the table, split between a massive power strip and a broadband modem jammed at odd angles on one of the chairs. He confirmed Petrovich's flight schedule and picked up one of five cell phones sitting on the table next to the computers. Each one was plugged into a charger connected to the same power strip as the computers.
He dialed Parker.
"Sir?"
"Our guest should be arriving shortly. I want you to pick him up and find a rental car agency well away from the airport. Rent a car in your name and give him your SUV. I don't expect our friends to piece things together this quickly, but we can't take any chances. Take him to my place north of the city, and wait for instructions. Make sure to outfit our friend well. I may need him at a moment's notice."
"Understood, sir. I'm a few minutes away from the airport. Any word from Farrington?"
"Everything is in place. We're just waiting for the right moment. Let me know when the two of you have arrived safely," the general said and closed the phone.
Chapter Eighteen
4:13 p.m.
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
The first encrypted fax from the Pentagon
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