a fast one. The Czech told Foley about a man named CHIBI and a secret, silent auction being held in London tomorrow night. One bid only, in person, by an authorized representative. The winning bidder would receive a special algorithmic key that would unlock the entire IC Cloud—and the IC would never know about it.
The Czech proposed that in exchange for his life, he would provide the encrypted passcode that allowed his representative to bid. “They don’t know who’s coming. The only ID needed is the passcode.”
Clark was no security expert, but Gavin’s drop-jawed response told him it was all pretty serious.
“You know, if you screw us on this, you’ll wish I’d let Jack blow your brains out,” Clark said.
“I have no loyalties to anyone or anything other than to myself, Mr. Clark. My intense desire for self-preservation is your best guarantee.”
* * *
—
Dom and Adara kept watch over The Czech in another room while Gavin, Clark, Jack, Mary Pat, and a couple NSA cyberwizards conferenced on Clark’s phone.
The plan they came up with was rough around the edges, and more likely to fail than not.
But it was their only shot.
And it all depended on Gavin Biery.
84
LONDON, UK
The TechWorld conference was held in a soaring glass tower hotel and convention center in the Canary Wharf section of London adjacent to the River Thames.
Gavin was dressed in a hastily acquired Savile Row suit. He sat in the back of a rental van with Clark and Adara. Midas was at the wheel. Dom and Ding were still in Czechia, keeping the old gangster under wraps until the mission was completed, after which he was free to leave—a decision Clark couldn’t abide but didn’t argue, because it wasn’t his call to make.
Jack and Foley were already in the hotel. Foley had flown a red-eye government jet with her hastily assembled team, arriving early that morning.
“You’re sweating buckets,” Adara said, wiping Gavin’s portly face with his handkerchief. “You might short out the microphone.”
“Really?”
“Joking,” Adara said. “You’ll be fine.”
“Look, Gav. This is a cakewalk for a guy like you,” Clark said, trying to calm the man down. “A tower full of computer geniuses jabbering about bits and bytes? And all the free cocktail weenies and soda pop you could ever want?”
“But . . . I’m not really a field operative.”
“But you’ve always wanted to be one. And you’ve been out with us a bunch of times now. You’ll do great,” Adara reassured him.
“But this is really, really important. I’m not IT support for the mission this time. I am the mission.”
“And you’ll kill it,” Clark said.
Gavin blanched.
“Figuratively speaking. This is all IT stuff and IT people. No guns, no goons. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“We’ll have eyes on you the whole time,” Adara said. She adjusted the tie clip with the embedded miniature video camera and microphone. “And no one more than one floor away.”
Clark checked his watch. “It’s time.”
* * *
—
Gavin paced inside the hotel room The Czech’s people had reserved for the conference, as per their instructions from CHIBI. At precisely eight p.m., CHIBI’s representative would arrive. Gavin would provide The Czech’s encrypted passcode to authenticate his false identity, and then hand over an envelope with The Czech’s bid.
Gavin didn’t care about the technical side of this meeting. That was as difficult as pulling twenty dollars of cash out of an ATM. Playing it cool was the challenge. Like he was actually the bad guy, and not some sweaty, fat techie playacting like a spy.
Gavin practiced his breathing exercises and tried to think about his favorite beach. When there was a knock at the door, he nearly fainted.
“C’mon, Gav, you can do this,” he whispered to himself.
He opened the door.
He nearly wet himself.
“Uh, please. Come in.”
CHIBI smiled and entered. Gavin shut the door.
“Something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, not at all.”
“You have something for me?”
“Yes.”
He pulled out The Czech’s thumb drive from his pants pocket and inserted it in the reader in CHIBI’s hand.
“Excellent. And the bid?”
“The bid? Sure.” Gavin reached into his pocket and handed over the sealed envelope.
“I’ll be in touch. Good luck.”
CHIBI turned to leave and pulled the door open.
Mary Pat Foley stood in the doorway, furious.
She slapped Amanda Watson hard across the face.
“You treasonous bitch!”
85
Foley, Clark, Jack, and Gavin stood over Watson, seated in a chair, her face still beet red from Foley’s slap.
“When and where’s the next meet?” Foley demanded.
Watson checked her watch. “Ten minutes from now, two floors up.”