the way upstairs. Dov and Isaac stood at the whiteboard working out a problem. With a whistle, she motioned them to follow. The men dropped their markers then and there. Danni was already feeling better about her authority.
Luca Borgia’s bill for the month of May was at the top of her inbox when she sat at her desk. She opened the attachment, noting that Borgia was paying her company a monthly retainer of twenty thousand euros, with add-ons for special projects. At least he was paying full freight. She closed the message, then sent Goldie a note thanking her.
“We have a problem,” she began, after the engineers had shut the office door and taken up their spots opposite her desk. “Normally, we don’t look into our clients’ affairs; what they do with our software is their business. However, a situation has come to my attention where we can no longer turn a blind eye.”
“Bangkok?” said Dov.
“You saw?”
“Who didn’t?” said Isaac.
“Yes,” said Danni. “Bangkok. We were right to worry.”
“Has he done something like this before?”
“Borgia? Who knows?” said Danni. “Does it matter?”
“And the other one,” said Isaac. “The journalist.”
“London Li,” said Danni. “That’s my concern.”
“And so?” asked Dov.
“We are going to take a deep dive into Borgia’s affairs.”
“For who?” asked Isaac, not yet grasping her intent. “I mean, who’s the client? MI6? CIA? Spanish intel? Thai police?”
“We are the client,” said Danni. “SON. Me. You. Dov. All of us.”
The engineers squirmed in their chairs. For once, they were faced with a concept of which they had little experience, one that no computational skills could solve.
“Suggestions, gentlemen?”
“Pegasus?” said Isaac.
“Pegasus,” agreed Dov.
“Pegasus,” stated Danni with the finality of an auctioneer’s hammer.
Pegasus was the SON Group’s most powerful hacking tool, initially developed in conjunction with Unit 8200 and the United States National Security Agency. The first iteration had been stolen by the Shadowbrokers, an anonymous international hacking collective, and made available to one and all on the web. SON had built the second and third iterations themselves. It had quickly become their bestselling product.
In short, Pegasus was a piece of spyware that, when installed on a phone, laptop, or desktop using the iOS operating system, gave them—the SON Group—total and complete control of the device. Pegasus tracked calls, collected passwords, reported the device’s location, read text messages, and allowed its user to gather information from every program installed on the device. WhatsApp, Viber, Facebook, Instagram, Skype—anything and everything, including taking control of the phone’s camera and microphone.
All that was required was for the target to open a file with the spyware secretly attached to it. Pegasus did the rest. In this case, that “Trojan” file would be Luca Borgia’s May billing statement.
There was one problem. All Borgia’s devices were equipped with software designed to search incoming mail for exactly such hidden attachments. Danni knew this because SON had sold him the software, and subsequently installed it.
Danni laid out the dilemma they faced. “Can you get around it?”
Isaac and Dov exchanged looks. “An hour?”
“Forty-five minutes.”
“Get me a hack in thirty and you boys can take the rest of the day off.”
Dov made a face. “And do what?”
Chapter 51
Singapore
Hadrian Lester left the elevator and walked unsteadily into the SKAI Bar. His hand throbbed beyond imagination. One eye was swollen shut. He suspected his nose was bleeding…who else’s blood could it be on his shirt?…and his ribs ached horribly.
It was over.
The words caromed around the inside of his battered skull like spiked pinballs.
Over…over…over.
The reporter had the files…a million of them, good God…Shaka was in custody. And Riske…whoever he was…the man was relentless.
It was over. At least for Hadrian. He imagined the press, the harassment, the trials, the sheer pain of all that was to come. All of it would come out. Every sordid detail. There were too many people involved. One person would talk, then the next, then it would be a mad race to see who could save their skin first, who could cut the best deal, who could get the least prison time. But there would be no deal for him. Not for the man at the top. For the man at the top there was only the guillotine.
Luca, of course, was insulated from the whole thing. Neither Riske nor the reporter, Li, would find his name anywhere. Not on an account, an email, a text, nowhere. He gave the orders. Hadrian followed them.
Luca could take care of Riske. Of that, Hadrian was certain.
“Christ, man, what’s happened to you?” It was Sir Ian, eyeing him