Free The Lazarus Moment by J Robert Kennedy

was
possible. It was his theory they were tapping the communications. It wouldn’t
last long, the system automatically scanning for any type of intrusion every
fifteen minutes. During that period the virus might transmit a large volume of
data, though even that might be detected.
    By
someone like him.
    He stared
down the racks of equipment at Senior Airman Jerry Cornel, typing away at his
keyboard.
    Now
or never.
    He
inserted the key, a message immediately popping on his display warning him of
the new hardware. He entered the override code. The system immediately
activated the device, it common practice to use USB devices to patch the
software, it one of his duties. And there had been quite a few patches lately
after the latest upgrade. The entire plane had been given a major overhaul, the
replacement aircraft not due to be in the air for the better part of a decade.
She was an old bird, reliable, but so out of date it needed a few tweaks now
and then, and sometimes major work.
    This was
only her second flight, the kinks being worked out now minor.
    The
screen flashed as something ran for a moment, then the memory stick ejected
itself, the system displaying a message it was safe to remove.
    He did,
shoving it back into his pocket.
    And
wondered what the hell he had just done.
     
     

 
     
    CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
     
    “Here’s something.”
    Leroux
and Morrison turned to Sonya Tong. “What?”
    “Well, I
figured I’d broaden the search a bit so I ran all the patients who were at the
hospital at the same time as Zokwana. There were quite a few hits against our
databases, there a lot of senior people who go there, but one was red flagged
for recent activity.”
    “Who?”
    “Igor Khomenko.
He was at the hospital for almost the entire time Zokwana was. Same ward, same
type of cancer, both terminal.”
    Morrison
looked at her. “So? Who is he?”
    “He’s a
general in the Donetsk People's Republic.”
    “Russian
separatists!” hissed Morrison. “Go on.”
    “He was
wounded six months ago, taken to hospital for treatment in Russia, which was
when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He was transferred to the Hertzen
Moscow Oncology Research Institute and was discharged on the same day as Zokwana.”
    “Interesting.”
    Leroux
nodded. “Could be a coincidence, but you know me, I don’t like them.” He nodded
toward Tong. “What else do we know?”
    “Transcripts
of some of his conversations seem to suggest he blames the US for killing his
family, apparently they died the same day he was wounded—bomb dropped from a
Ukrainian Air Force jet.” Tong’s eyes widened. “Sir, according to this, he
specifically blames the President and has sworn revenge!”
    Morrison
snapped his fingers. “That’s our guy. We need to know what involvement he had
with Zokwana.”
    “Shit,
boss, I’ve got something!”
    Leroux
swiveled in his chair to face Child. “What?”
    “I’ve
got a wire transfer from a known FSB account to Igor Khomenko in the amount of
two million Euros less than a week ago. We picked it up as part of our
monitoring of Ukrainian separatist activities.”
    “Okay,
he’s up to something and the Russians are involved.” Leroux’s eyes narrowed.
“Where’s the money now?”
    “Still
trying to get access to the account. It might take some time.”
    “Do
whatever it takes.”
    Child nodded,
returning to his computer.
    Leroux
turned to Morrison. “I think you better make a call.”
    Morrison
rose. “So do I.”
     
     

 
     
    Conference Room, Air Force One
    Approaching Mozambique Airspace
    37,000 feet
     
    Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson shook his head. “Are
they sure it’s foul play?”
    Secret
Service Agent in Charge McNeely shook his head. “Negative. We just got the
alert because of his current assignment. The MPs are still at the house.”
    Dawson
blew air between his lips. His radar was already pinging with concerns over
their last minute passenger, a