The car dropped Dieter off at a small building on the outskirts of town. He had rented a privateoffice for the day that came with a desktop computer. His laptop rig with all its interesting software was in the custody of one of his Rogue Security guys,Magnus Jensen, who was currently logging in from all over the world with it. If Pierre’s Secret Service officers were tracking that laptop, Magnus was currently leading them a merry chase across Southeast Asia.
But it left Dieter withouta computer.
He used the rented desktop, a slow and clunky contraption, and copied a long string of what appeared to be random letters and numbers from his phone’s screen into the browser’s address bar.
The computer screen flashed, and the computer downloaded a folder of all the programs he would need: a strong VPN program and Tor browsers. After those were installed, he dropped into the so-calleddark web and found the hidden servers he wanted.
A text clicked into his phone, a string of numbers.
Dieter copied them into the pop-up box, and a list of menus opened on his computer.
Another window opened up on the screen. In it, a man wearing sunglasses and a dark hoodie grinned at Dieter.
Blaise Lyon had been a tame hacker for ARD-10 when Dieter had served in the Swiss elite commando unit,and he’d offered Blaise a job just as soon as he’d formed Rogue Security. While Blaise’s official title was Technical Support, he was one of the very best, and therefore one of the most dangerous, hackers in the world, able to rally a botnet army or write a brand-new, scary virus with very little preparation time. Dieter suspected Blaise dreamed in binary.
The hooded man on the screen said, “Welcomeback.” A shrill, mechanical whine undercut Blaise’s voice when he spoke, a method to foil voice recognition software.
Dieter said, “Thank you. Good to see you.”
Blaise asked him, “How’s living with your ex?”
He was also an asshole with no boundaries who liked to hack people’s phones and listen to their conversations. “I’m going to start leaving my phone downstairs.”
“When you guys get nasty,I change the channel. I don’t want to watchthat.”
Dieter hoped Blaise was telling the truth, and he probably was, considering the twitch between Blaise’s dark eyebrows and repulsed wrinkles around his nose and lips, micro-expressions of deep disgust.
Blaise was known to have delicate sensibilities. PDA and slimy food offended him. He insisted that he had seen too much of life to enjoythat.
“I’m still going to put it in a drawer.” Telling Blaise to stop listening was a waste of Dieter’s breath.
Theo Bonfils’ face popped up in another window. “We’re ready. Let’s go.”
Dieter settled into the chair, though he wasn’t sure what the Hell he was going to do in this little game of theirs.
The room swam into view on the monitor.
As before, theWelfenlegion,about fifty young, strong men,were sitting on mismatched chairs, though in a larger room this time. The fisheye lens on the webcam warped them.
Most of the guys were sitting in groups that Dieter expected. He knew the friend networks that had formed while he had been the chief of theWelfenlegion.He looked for anyone out of place, someone who had something to hide from his friends and thus was not sitting with them, buteveryone had sorted themselves exactly like he would have expected.
Dieter had trained those guys. He would have been disappointed if they’d been so damned obvious.
In the front row, Eian Summerhayssat with a few of otherguys. Eian was, of course, Dieter’s northern Irishman from Rogue Security, tasked with infiltrating theWelfenlegionand guarding pregnant mother Rae from any turncoats inWulfram’s security detail.From the easy way Eian lounged with the four of them in their chairs, he must have slid right in.
He always did, though. It was one of the reasons that Dieter had hired Eian for Rogue Security. He could infiltrate any organization and find out anything they needed.
The plan, as Noah had told Dieter, was to accuse Eian of being the mole.
Eian knew something was goingto happen because Blaise had managed to get a message to him, but not exactly what. Eian would roll with it, Dieter was sure.
Unlike the last time Dieter was supposed to sniff out the traitor in theWelfenlegion,the men standing against the walls were all wearing the black fatigues of Rogue Security. They ringed the perimeter with their arms crossed, scowling. Supposedly, they were the new guysfrom Noah’s fictional outfit,Sin Nombre Security.
TheWelfenlegionguys looked uncomfortable. Their glances up and over at the Rogues betrayed nerves in several of them. Dieter resolved to watch those guys more carefully, though a traitor might just as well damp down his reactions.
Luca Wyss sat in one corner of the room, leaning his chair back against the wall with his arms crossed and scowling.Luca was often an observer in circumstances like this. Dieter had expected that. Luca watched crowds for ripples and saw things before most people, like Dieter himself.
One of theWelfenlegionguys,Matthias Williams,looked at the black-clad commandoes. He sat withJulien Bodilsen and Friedhelm Vonlanthen, who were whispering to each other.
