“You don’t think LaForgue is also playing her?”
“No,” James said. “LaForgue genuinely wants her out of the way. Yvonne seems a very bright woman and my suspicions are that LaForgue is afraid of what she might discover.”
“Makes sense,” Sven agreed.
“To answer your first question,” James said. “Left alone in her hotel room, Yvonne will have too much time dwelling on the possibility of losing her job, and more so, on never seeing her twins again. It’s a very unhealthy situation to be in. With Yvonne staying in my home, no one knows where she is. Also, Antoine and Amy will be good company for her.”
“I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if anything like that happened to Kayla,” Sven said, with a troubled expression.
“And Yvonne’s situation is exactly why I’ve called you in.”
“Figured as much,” Sven laughed. “So, what is it you want me to do?”
“Firstly,” James said. “Find out everything you can about Cevallos and his gambling operations in Vegas. You might even be able to dig up something on what he knows about the Mojave.”
“I can get on that right away,” Sven said.
“Secondly, Müller has far too much time on his hands persecuting those around him. There must be some political dirt we can dig up and give him something else to occupy his time with.”
“That, I’ll leave for when I get home,” Sven advised. “I don’t want SkyTech involved with any snooping I do into the NSA’s databanks.”
“Thanks, Sven.” James knew that he needn’t caution Sven to be careful. “In the meantime, I’ll reach out to Nate about Angelo Cevallos being a possible person of interest.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Shortly after lunch, Nathan and Emily were debating the legitimacy of Kubacki’s document when they were interrupted by a discreet but incessant alarm. Neither could figure out where it was coming from. It stopped within seconds of Uri and Obadiah bustling through the door leading into Level-2.
“Look,” Uri said, pointing with excitement at the large TV monitor by Gene’s workstation from where the alarm had come.
Engrossed in cracking the images, Emily had completely forgotten about the drone. Uri had mentioned that it would activate an audible signal on the TV as soon as its image processing eye spotted something other than scant desert life.
The unmanned aerial vehicle, or drone, as it was more commonly known, had picked up movement. For the past thirty hours, it had circled slowly over the area from where the long-wave transmission had been broadcast. At sixty thousand feet, it saw everything and could zoom in to the minutest details. This was the third drone over the Mojave, the previous two having returned as each in turn ran low on fuel.
Uri, Emily and Nathan watched the birds-eye view of a canopied truck approach and come to an abrupt standstill. A cloud of dust slowly settled on the ground. Gene stood up from his chair in the corner workstation and walked closer to the TV. He, too, was now extremely curious.
Three men, who appeared to be holding portable mine sweepers, jumped out the back. They were followed by another five with shovels. The driver stayed in the comfort of his cab.
Nathan looked at Uri. “Do you think they’re looking for more mines?” he asked.
“No. Russian mines are all made from plastic. Those are metal detectors. I suspect they’re looking for either the antenna or an entrance of sorts.”
“Surely, they wouldn’t have known about the transmission,” Emily said.
“We don’t know who they are yet,” Uri said. “Certainly, from the truck, those old shovels and the way they’re dressed, they’re not government or military. With their baggy khaki pants, worn-out long-sleeved shirts, sandals and floppy hats, my guess is they are illegal Mexican migrants.”
Those with the metal detectors spread out and started sweeping the area. The rest, leaning either on their shovels or against the side of the truck, waited.
Uri sat down by a nearby computer and activated an application that displayed exactly the same scene as on the TV.
“What are you doing?” Nathan asked.
“I need just one of those men to look up, so I can capture the image and feed it into our facial recognition software.”
The application made available to Groom Lake by the NSA could reconstruct a person’s entire face, given even the most oblique head shot. And it was always accurate. If any one of those people looked up, even at a slight angle, Groom Lake would have a name to match the face in seconds◦– unless that person was an illegal, in which case, it might take a few seconds longer.
The door on the driver’s side of the truck opened. A man stepped out, removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve. He looked up briefly at the bright sun.
Nathan laughed. “Is that good enough for you?”
“Indeed,” Uri said, with satisfaction. He froze the screen and typed in a few quick commands. In a second, a name popped up◦– ‘Miguel Gonzales’. Two seconds later, his Las Vegas address, nationality (Mexican), marital status (single), children (six, aged four through ten) occupation (driver), and current employer◦– Fabulous Angelo’s.
“Hey,” Emily shouted. “We passed that place on The Strip.”
Uri punched in some more commands.
Today’s invasive technology was truly scary, Emily thought. Capture someone’s face from sixty thousand feet and seconds later you knew everything about them. She wondered if Uri was aware that the NSA’s analytical eavesdropping software could read lips with just as much accuracy as their facial recognition programs.
Obadiah, standing in the background, wasn’t paying too much attention. His mind was still on some of the weapons he’d been exposed to. He was comfortable with most of the rifles but questioned his accuracy. Regardless of distance, he’d hit every target bang-on centre. He wondered how much of that was his own skill, or whether there was some technology in the rifle itself that refined his aim when he pulled the trigger. He suspected it was the rifle. Next time he was on the range, he would deliberately aim off. That would give him his answer.
He considered the advantages facial recognition could have as a security measure within SkyTech’s thirty-first floor. He’d bounce that idea off Nate. His team of developers, especially Sven, should be able to come up with something in fairly short order.
Chapter Forty-Six
Obadiah’s fleeting thoughts on weapons and facial recognition were interrupted.
“Angelo Cevallos,” Uri said. “He’s the sole owner of some of the most lucrative gambling houses in Las Vegas.” Uri skipped over particulars such as his home address and other personal details irrelevant to them at this time. “Makes a ton of money, has no criminal record and pays his taxes on time. He’s not married but is the father of two girls.”
Just then, Nathan’s phone buzzed. It was JW calling him on SkyTech’s secure communications line.
Nathan connected. “JW, how are things?”
“Good, thanks. Can you talk?”
“Yes, we’re down in Level-2,” Nathan answered.
“Can you put me on speaker?”
Nathan did so.
“Emily,” James said. “I want to congratulate you on cracking those images. Excellent job; really well done.”
“Thanks, James,” she replied, with modesty. Emily never felt comfortable being complimented. She quickly changed the subject. “We watched you land at JFK in the Blackbird. I’m so glad you had that once in a lifetime experience.”