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“It’s the phonetic translation for the Albanian word for father. The powers-that-be probably found it amusing.”
“Well, I’m not amused. Nor do I know how to phrase this. Based on the note I received, I’m assuming these people speak English.”
“Fluently. Despite the Albanian password, the communication you received, as well as all future communications, will be sent by whoever intends to steal Nano’s technology, most likely the Chinese. The Albanians are just their muscle. So while the kidnappers’ English may be broken, the head honchos will speak perfect English. No worries there.”
“Right. No worries.” Vance sucked in his breath. “Tell me what to say—verbatim.”
Aidan dictated a response in succinct, straightforward terms— explaining the need for an extra day to get the drawing and to find a way to penetrate NanoUSA’s ironclad walls to send it. The only time Aidan added some emotion was when, as Vance, he spoke of the need to see and hear his daughter daily, to ensure himself that she was indeed alive and well.
“That’s it?” Vance asked.
“That’s it.”
“How long will it be before I hear from them?”
“Given their sense of urgency, I’d hang around Starbucks. You should hear back within an hour. Now read our response back to me.” Aidan listened, nodding as he did. “Good. Post it.”
“God help me,” Vance murmured and pressed the Enter key.
* * *
The reply came forty-five minutes later, and Vance called Aidan back immediately.
“They agreed to our terms.” He sounded shell-shocked.
“Read me their response,” Aidan instructed.
Vance cleared his throat, and Aidan could hear him take a long gulp of his coffee. “We recognize your dilemma,” he read. “You have until noon tomorrow, your time zone, to deliver the file. We assume you value your daughter’s life enough to meet that demand. Therefore, your request has been approved and is being arranged. Return to your current location daily, beginning tomorrow morning, at seven ten a.m. Log in. We will be publishing a random Cyph link and you will have ten minutes to access it. You will be able to see and talk with Lauren. Five minutes per day. She will be watched at all times. If anything inflammatory is said, she’ll be killed before your eyes.”
Vance’s voice broke on that last sentence.
“This is good news, Vance,” Aidan told him. “They’re willing to negotiate. They want that technology badly. They’re not going to hurt Lauren—not when that would eliminate their only bargaining chip. You’re going to talk to her and see her tomorrow morning. That gives us tonight to choreograph the entire conversation from your end and to reiterate the do’s and don’ts that you’ll adhere to. The computer you’ll be using and the tool that’s needed to get them the photo of that drawing should be arriving at the hotel around midnight, delivered to my hotel room. I’ll explain the technical aspects of the computer to you and then head back to Silicon Valley to meet with Simone and pass the tool along to her. With the proper guidance from you, she’ll be accessing and sending them what they want well before the noon deadline.”
“And what do I do until then?” Vance asked.
“Exactly what you’ve been doing. Leave for Nano now. Check in with Simone. She’s conducting interviews of your staff, supposedly to better your department. Have a quick catch-up meeting with Robert Maxwell. Get updates from Ethan.”
“Business as usual? I’m not sure I can do this anymore.”
“Yes you can. For Lauren. Now head out. You’ll be back for lunch. Spend the afternoon with your family—calmly and in vacation mode—on the slopes or in front of a fire. I’ll be flying to Tahoe tonight, probably by eight. I have a ten o’clock videoconference with my team, so I’ll have to interrupt for that. You and I will have ample time to educate and orchestrate.”
Silicon Valley, CA
27 February
Tuesday, 10:05 a.m. local time
Jia li Sung picked up her burner phone and punched in the country code eight-six, followed by the memorized number.
Several rings later, a man’s voice answered in Mandarin. “Xu.”
“I’m calling on behalf of my colleague,” she replied, also in Mandarin. “I was told to inform you that waiting is no longer an option. Several months ago, when we all met in California, it was explained to you that we have a narrow window of time in which to accomplish our goal. That window is coming to an end and you have nothing to show for your efforts. My colleague is beginning to think that you are the wrong partner for this venture.”
She paused, listening to the livid reply, punctuated by some unpleasant swearing.
“There is no reason to use that kind of language,” she responded calmly. She’d been warned to expect this reaction. “Results are what we require here, not excuses or expletives.”
The CEO at the other end of the phone sucked in his breath, clearly striving for calm. His reply, when it came, was terse. “Tell your colleague that in a week this will be done. Further, a sample of the data you’re waiting for will be transmitted to you within two days—as a show of good faith.”
