private messages being gobbled up by the government, there was a whole other vein the U.S. government was mining. Uncle Sam was tracking all senders and receivers of bitcoin—around the world.
“According to the documents Snowden released, it went deeper than just the records contained in the blockchain—the ledger where users are designated via ‘anonymous’ identifiers. The NSA had actually collected passwords, years’ worth of internet activity, IP addresses, and unique device identification numbers also referred to as MAC addresses. In short, if you ever even googled the word bitcoin, chances were the NSA had targeted your computer and had sucked up all the data they could pull from it.”
Harvath had dealt with the NSA on multiple occasions. They had always been super people to work with. That said, there were more than a few high-level executives there who gave him pause.
“Snowden’s revelation,” Nicholas continued, “spooked a lot of users and sent them scrambling for added layers of encryption and protection. That’s where the IRS comes in.
“They had been working on something, a software program capable of tracking financial transactions that was light-years ahead of OAKSTAR. They just needed a partner with enough computing muscle and a network with an all-powerful, global reach.”
“Enter the NSA.”
“You got it,” the little man replied. “It’s a brilliant joint venture. Together, they can outthink, outsmart, and outreach even the best criminals.”
“Which is how you got our assassin?”
“Sending you his picture now,” said Nicholas, transmitting the photo. “Meet Paul Vincent Aubertin.”
Harvath watched as the photo appeared on his phone.
“His financial transactions were super murky and very convoluted,” the little man admitted. “But the IRS program loves those kinds of challenges. Eats them for breakfast. As soon as we fed it the information we got from the Contessa, it began to unspool every transaction.
“He was good. Really good. He used a combination of anonymous bank and cryptocurrency accounts, particularly bitcoin, to move money around and make payments. But deep in his banking history, he set up an account with a one-time transfer from another, rather interesting account.”
“What made it so interesting?” Harvath asked.
“The account received a pension payment from the French Foreign Legion before the payment was directed somewhere else.”
That wasn’t something Harvath had seen coming. First, Irish mobsters in Boston and now the French Foreign Legion? What the hell was going on?
“That’s how you sourced the name Paul Aubertin?”
“Correct,” Nicholas replied. “I may have accessed a certain French military database, which is where I got the photo. But that’s just the start. When I searched for a facial match to any photos online, I discovered a private, password-protected Foreign Legion website. In a group photo, you can see Aubertin. But three people to his left is someone else I think you might recognize. I’m sending it now.”
Harvath waited for it to come through and when it did, he said, “The assassin who tried to kill me in Key West.”
“His name is Didier Defraigne. He’s Belgian. He and Aubertin served in the Foreign Legion at the same time.”
“Is Aubertin also Belgian?” Harvath asked, backing up.
“No. Are you ready for this? He’s actually Irish—at least that was what his passport said when he joined the Foreign Legion. He was injured in Kosovo and per French law, he was able to apply for and receive French citizenship.”
“What do the Irish say about him?”
“According to Ireland’s Directorate of Military Intelligence, there was a passport issued in that name at the end of 1999, but they have no record of any citizen named Paul Vincent Aubertin.”
Harvath walked over to the coffeemaker and fired it up. He liked where all of this was going. “The attackers in Boston allegedly had ties to the local Irish mob. Three were Americans, but the fourth was believed to have actually been from Ireland. Did you run his name through?”
“We did,” said Nicholas. “Desmond Oliver Cullen’s Republic of Ireland passport was issued just a little bit after Aubertin’s—early 2000. It turns out, Cullen is a ghost as well.”
“Why was Ireland churning out ghosts in late 1999, early 2000?”
“It could be that with the Troubles winding down, someone was running an underground railroad for the IRA.”
“But weren’t there amnesties?” Harvath asked, putting coffee in the machine. “Wasn’t that part of the peace process?”
“Lots of convicted criminals were given early release, but if you were an un-convicted criminal, meaning you hadn’t yet been prosecuted, there was no amnesty. You were out of luck. Even worse, the British government was as determined as ever to go after the most