“Can you…read me the…file name?”
She didn’t see the harm in that, so she did.
The Mole said nothing for several seconds, then asked her to read it to him again. After she did, he said, “Is the file…isolated?”
“Yes.”
“I have…a suggestion.”
“What?”
“Hold.” The pause that followed lasted half a minute. When he spoke again, he gave her a web location. “Go there. You will find…a conversion…program I would like…you to…try on the file.”
“Converting it into what?”
“Download the program…please.”
Once she had done so and opened it, she was presented with a screen containing two boxes and a button at the bottom marked ENTER. Written in light gray through the box on the left was SELECT FILE, while the box on the right held a pop-up list of three choices: EXECUTE, DOCUMENT, and IMAGE. She selected the.xuki file, but before clicking one of the options, she said, “Please tell me you wrote this program.”
“I did,” the Mole said.
“Which option should I try first?”
“I would only…caution that if…EXECUTE works, do not open…the file.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She decided to go ahead and try that one first, but the Mole’s program kicked back an error message reading:
UNABLE TO CONVERT. FILE TYPE UNKNOWN.
With some relief, she tried DOCUMENT and received the same response. When she clicked on IMAGE, instead of receiving an immediate error message, her cursor began spinning as it processed the file.
After several seconds, a new window opened and a picture appeared.
“Oh, my God,” Abraham said, staring at the screen.
The image was of a girl.
“Tessa?” Orlando asked.
“I think so. Yes…yes, it’s got to be.”
The girl in the picture was not the four-year-old he’d described. This one was older. If the picture was recent, she’d be eleven now. Her dark brown hair lay thick over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes, also brown, were not looking at the camera but almost, as if someone standing near the photographer had called her name.
“Who…is Tessa?” the Mole asked.
“At the moment, it might be better if you don’t remember that name.”
A beat. “Understood. But I…take it that the conversion…worked.”
“It did. Thank you. I appreciate it. What I don’t understand, though, is why it was disguised with a dot-xuki extension.”
“Perhaps it was…not disguised. I have a theory that…the dot-xuki virus…was designed to do…more than just wipe the servers. What if…the destruction was…merely a way to cover—”
“Their tracks,” she said, seeing where he was going. “You’re thinking they were stealing data, aren’t you?”
“Yes…and did not want anyone…to know what they took. Once…they had the…wanted files, the drives were…wiped.” A process that could have happened in a matter of seconds, from virus arrival to total destruction.
“So the file I have here—” she said.
“Is one…that was extracted from…the CIA,” he finished for her.
“Thanks,” she told him. “I appreciate the help.”
“You know where…to find me…if you need more.”
Orlando slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned to Abraham. “You’re sure this is—” She stopped herself when she saw the streak of a tear across his cheek.
“I’m sure,” he said.
“At least you know she’s alive.”
“Yes. She is, isn’t she?” He continued to stare at the monitor.
Tentatively she asked, “Is knowing that enough for you?”
Even before he spoke, she could see in his eyes that it wasn’t. “Something must be wrong. Why else would Eli have been killed? We need to make sure she’s safe.”
Orlando squeezed Abraham’s shoulder. “Let’s see if Eli left us anything else, huh?”
CHAPTER 18
Quinn had the compact zoom attached to his phone’s camera before the sedan pulled past them a few short blocks before DC. He snapped pictures of each of the four occupants.
The results were far from stellar. The shots of the driver and the man sitting behind him were completely useless, only a hint of a face in each. The photos of the woman in the front passenger seat and the man behind her were profile shots and therefore better, but — due to motion blur and the reflections in the window — not by much. Still, he texted them to Orlando, hoping there was enough for her to get a hit on at least one person.
They continued following the sedan past Tenley Circle, McLean Gardens, and the US Naval Observatory. When they reached Dupont Circle, the others drove only two stops around the arc before turning onto New Hampshire Avenue NW. At M Street, they turned right again and continued two blocks to 23rd Street, where they turned left.
By the time Nate turned the Explorer around the last corner, the sedan was three-quarters of the way down the block and slowing.
“Pull to the curb,” Quinn ordered.
Nate eased the truck to the side of the road.
As soon as the sedan came to a full stop, two of its doors opened.
“Daeng, you’re with me,” Quinn said. “Nate, you know what to do.”
“Stay in the car,” Nate said, pretending to be annoyed. In truth, if the sedan went anywhere, his job would be to follow.
Quinn and Daeng exited and quickly moved over to the sidewalk. Casually, as if they passed this way every day, they walked toward the other end of the block. Only two people had emerged from the sedan — the woman and one of the men. While she was empty-handed, her companion was carrying a small suitcase.
The driver’s window of the sedan was open and the woman was saying something to the men still inside. When she finished, the car pulled back into the street. Behind him, Quinn could hear Nate shift the SUV out of Park and take up pursuit.
“We’re eyes only,” Quinn told Daeng. “We find out where they’re going, get a few pictures, then we’re out.”
“Sounds like fun,” Daeng said.
Quinn had known Daeng long enough to realize his Thai friend wasn’t being sarcastic. Daeng was usually up for almost anything.
The woman glanced their way as she moved onto the sidewalk, but she appeared not to give their presence any importance. With her colleague in tow, she walked over to the building that lined the block and entered through an unmarked door.
Quinn had hoped they’d stay out in the open a bit longer, giving him and Daeng more time to narrow the distance between them, but so much for that.
Picking up his pace, he made a quick study of the building. While there were businesses here and there along the ground floor, the nine floors above them appeared to be occupied by either offices or condos. Plenty of places for the man and woman to get lost in before Quinn and Daeng could get eyes on them again.
Daeng reached the door a half step ahead of Quinn and tried the knob.
“Locked.”
No keyhole in the door, only a security pad on the wall. Unfortunately, the device that could have circumvented the system was in Quinn’s bag in the SUV.
He looked around. A dozen yards to his left was the main door to the building, probably with a receptionist or security guard waiting inside. To his right, a restaurant at the corner. More people, but…
“Come on,” he said to Daeng and headed for the restaurant.
A hostess greeted them with a pleasant smile as they entered. “Welcome to Nic’s. Just the two of you?”
“Yes,” Quinn said.
“This way.”
She turned and walked into the dining area.
“A table by the window okay for you?” she asked.