“You think Aryan Brotherhood gang members pulled off a theft this complicated?”
He snorted a laugh. “Hell, no. I think they’re in it for the money. I think those weapons were sold in advance. I think whoever planned to steal them got at least a partial up-front payment, enough to buy the help they needed to make it happen.”
“What about this guy, Weaver?”
“He’s involved up to his neck, but I don’t think he’s the mastermind. More like he’s at the top of the Aryan food chain. We need to find him, figure out what he knows.”
“How do we do that?”
“We start by calling Tabby.” He picked up his phone and punched a contact number, then put the phone on speaker and set it back down on the table.
“Hey, Bran,” Tabby answered in a buoyant female voice. “I’m glad you called. I’ve got something for you.”
“Tab, I’ve got you on speaker. Jessie Kegan is with me.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Jessie,” Tabby said.
“You, too, Tabby.”
“Listen, Bran, I’ve got some info on that money deposited into Colonel Kegan’s offshore account. I was hoping I could track the money backward, find out where it originated, but it was transferred from another offshore account, one that was highly protected. I wasn’t able to get in so I can’t give you any names.”
“That’s not good news.”
“No, but I was able to track the deposits to an email address. It’s closed down now, but I followed the messages and get this—the messages indirectly led to an online auction on the dark web.”
“An auction,” Jessie said, her gaze shooting to Bran. “That’s how they sold the chemical weapons?”
“That’s right,” Tabby said. “The digital black market allows buyers to access a large assortment of arms and explosive material. Crypto bazaars, social media channels, e-commerce sites, that kind of stuff. Lot of potential buyers out there, Pakistan, Iran, Republic of South Africa, Somalia. In this case, the terms of the auction required twenty percent up front, the rest on delivery.”
“How much did they sell for?” Bran asked.
“Either of you wanna guess?”
Jessie tried to imagine what such an amount of deadly weapons would be worth on the international market. “Let’s see...fifteen thousand pounds of mustard agent stored in projectiles and mortar rounds. I’m thinking...fifteen million dollars?”
“Nope. These days fifteen million is chump change.”
“Twenty million,” Bran guessed.
“Try twenty-five million dollars. Five mil up front, the rest on delivery.”
Bran scrubbed a hand over his face, rasping over the dark scruff along his jaw. “So someone has twenty-five million dollars’ worth of chemical weapons. Enough to kill hundreds of people or maybe start a war.”
“A thought that gives me nightmares,” Tabby said.
“It’s got to be terrorism,” Jessie said. “I wonder why they haven’t used them already.”
“An attack takes planning,” Bran said. “Planning takes time.”
“So all we have to do is find the buyers before they’re ready to execute their plan,” Jessie said, drawing a grim look from Bran.
“Believe me, I’ll stay on it,” Tabby said.
“Listen, Tab, there’s something else we need. There’s a guy named Weaver. No first name. It looks like he’s a leader in the Aryan Brotherhood. Ex-con, most likely. Could be connected to the military. Chance he’s in Colorado somewhere, but there’s no way to know for sure.”
“Pretty tall order,” Tabby said. “Finding a guy with only one name.”
Bran smiled. “Yeah, but you’re up to it, right? No challenge too big for the Tabinator.”
