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“So you’re telling me that whoever has the files will just keep on going. They’ll carry out Rick’s plan to destroy the Agency just the way he set it up,” Rapp said.
“I didn’t say that,” Dumond responded. “I think they’re going to use the releases to track down the person sending them out. The person who has the encryption key.”
“That’s possible?” Rapp said.
“Definitely. Every time our mystery man sends a file, it bounces all around the world on its way to the recipient. With every release, they can zero in a little tighter.”
“How long until they find the person they’re looking for?” Kennedy said.
“Depends on their technological capability.”
“But it’s safe to say that at some point the person with the files is going to find the person with the encryption key,” Nash said. “And then they’ll have instant access to everything Rick knew.”
“Yes.”
“How long would it take you?” Rapp asked.
“With access to some of the NSA’s bandwidth, probably three releases.”
The room fell silent for a moment. Kennedy finally broke it. “Marcus, I don’t want you to ever repeat the question I’m about to ask you. Is that understood?”
“Sure.”
“What if the ISI has the files?”
He thought about it for a moment. “I’m not an expert on their capabilities, so I’ll have to confirm this, but I’d guess four releases. I doubt more than five, and they’d have to be brain-dead not to get it in six.”
“We need to make sure no one ever puts those files together with the password to access them,” Nash said. “You understand what’s at stake, right, Marcus? Our people’s lives and the lives of a whole lot of innocent civilians.”
Dumond started looking uncomfortable, and Rapp felt a spark of grudging respect when Nash immediately reacted by taking his rhetoric down a notch. There was a fine line between motivating Dumond and paralyzing him.
“You’re the best at this, Marcus. You know that and we know that. Whatever resources you need, you get. You want Utah? We’ll hand you the keys to the NSA’s building. You need a hundred million dollars in cash? Just tell us where to send the forklift. Right, Irene?”
“There are no secondary considerations,” she agreed. “This isn’t our first priority, Marcus. It’s our only priority.”
Dumond nodded. “I have an idea, but I need to work through it in my head.”
Nash glanced at the clock, confirming that it was a little over two minutes before Rickman’s next file was scheduled to be released. He stood and threw an arm around the younger man’s shoulders, leading him toward the door. “Let’s go down to your office and you can tell me all about it.”
When they were gone, Rapp moved to the chair Nash had abandoned. Neither he nor Kennedy spoke while they waited for the quiet chime that would announce the arrival of Rickman’s email. When it came, she turned her laptop partially toward him and opened the attached file.
No video this time. Instead it contained a detailed dossier on Fahran Hotaki, an Afghan who had helped the CIA fight al Qaeda and obstruct the Taliban’s efforts to drag his country back into the eleventh century. This had been an easy one for Rick—he’d been Hotaki’s handler. The dossier included names, dates, photographs, and account numbers—any one of which would have been enough to get the man decapitated.
“Can we contact him?” Rapp said.
Kennedy pulled up his information on her computer. “We gave him a sat phone that he’s supposed to always keep with him. There’s a predesignated text to warn him that he’s been compromised and to direct him to a safe location.”
Rapp grabbed Kennedy’s phone and began dialing.
“What are you doing?”
“I know Hotaki. I’ve fought with him. He’ll consider a text telling him to put his tail between his legs and run an insult.”
With every static-ridden ring, Rapp felt his anger and frustration grow. Finally a familiar voice came on.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been compromised.”
