Free The Athens Solution: A Short Story by Brad Thor

JUNE 12
    ATHENS, GREECE
    I t was hot, and noisy, as Michael Avery picked his way through the late-afternoon crowds clogging Athens’s famous Plaka district. Behind him, two Diplomatic Security Service agents mixed with the throng. A block over, a contingent of heavily armed Marines and an NSA communications expert followed in a nondescript van. There should have been a drone, but things had moved too fast.
    Avery, the U.S. ambassador to Greece, had been told to come alone. The White House, though, had other plans. Too much was at stake.
    In his white polo shirt and blue blazer, Avery looked like any other upscale Westerner visiting Greece during the height of the tourist season. He even carried a backpack casually slung over one shoulder. But unlike the other backpacks around him, his contained an encrypted laptop, complete with a wireless modem and sophisticated remote-viewing application.
    He was passing a small outdoor café with a dramatic view of the Acropolis and the ancient Parthenon atop it, when his cell phone rang.
    “Stop there and take a table,” said a voice with a heavy Greek accent. “You know what to do next.”
    Yes, Ambassador Avery did know what to do next. A thumb drive with a final set of instructions had been delivered to the embassy that morning. The instructions indicated that the drive could be used only once and that any attempts to copy or crack it before the appointed time would result in all of its data being destroyed.
    Avery sat down at a table and, after ordering coffee, removed the encrypted laptop from his backpack and powered it up. The drive glowed as it was plugged in. Within moments, a private-message screen popped up, and the words Good afternoon, Mr. Ambassador. Thank you for coming . appeared.
    Back in the van, the NSA communications expert could see in real time exactly what the ambassador was seeing, thanks to the laptop’s remote-viewing application, and he began trying to locate the source of the transmission.
    Are you prepared to transfer the funds? appeared next.
    How do we know the merchandise is authentic? typed Avery.
    One word was returned: Watch.
    The ambassador’s screen split into two separate windows. Next to the dialogue box, an image came up, titled JFK/ATC . He discreetly tilted his head and spoke toward the microphone sewn into the lapel of his blazer: “Are you getting this?”
    “All of it. So is Washington,” replied the tech in the van. A satellite uplink was beaming everything to the States for verification.
    Avery pressed the mini-earpiece farther into his ear as he anxiously awaited word. Seconds later, it came.
    “Verification complete,” the tech said. “Mr. Ambassador, you are looking at a live picture of JFK’s Air Traffic Control system.”
    Knowing what might happen next sent chills down Michael Avery’s spine. His hands shook as he typed the following message: We are ready to proceed.
    One by one, aircraft started disappearing from the screen.
    Forty-five seconds later, the NSA man’s voice came back over the ambassador’s earpiece. “JFK is reporting a major ATC system malfunction. They’re losing track of all their inbound aircraft. The merchandise is authentic.”
    Initializing funds transfer, typed the ambassador as he began the predetermined sequence. The green status bar seemed to take forever. When the Transfer Successful message finally materialized on the screen, aircraft flying in the New York area began reappearing on ATC radar.
    Simultaneously, a third window appeared on the ambassador’s laptop. In it, he could see a live picture of the device the United States had just paid so handsomely for. As the image widened, he could see the Parthenon in the foreground.
    “We’re on it,” said the Marine commander over Avery’s earpiece as the van took off to claim the merchandise.
    The ambassador continued to watch the feed as a pair of hands came into view, picked up the device, and secreted it inside the nearest trash can, as