“Well, they’re telling the Senate appropriations committees that they’re a lot farther away from a fully functional system prototype than MacEwan thinks they are. She’s not sure why they’re hiding this information.”
“Okay, let me see if I can piece some of this together,” Brognola said. “The NIF recruits Rhatib to break into the DOD’s defensive electronic system, using Carnivore as a sort of gateway. The NIF contracts local help from Lenzini, probably for funding and to keep their cells inside the country, while Rhatib starts working the technical angles. And we’re exploring the possibility that the NIF has enough inside supporters to utilize this SuperNet program to control our defensive network? Seems a bit ambitious for a small terrorist group. Plus, I can’t see us giving them that kind of support.”
“I don’t think most Americans would, Hal,” Bolan said. “But it’s possible they’re doing it unwittingly.”
“What do you mean?” Brognola asked.
“Well, I’d imagine that most of the participants in this SuperNet program are either government contractors or very large corporations conducting business transactions worldwide on a daily basis. Right, Bear?” Bolan looked at the man for confirmation.
Kurtzman nodded emphatically.
“So it only takes one traitor inside a company to turn things around,” Bolan said.
“Right,” Kurtzman interjected. “All they need to do, really, is provide networking information to an outside source. They can leak enough that any good hacker could take it from there. Plus, Carnivore is virtually undetectable to those security systems. The FBI monitors information constantly across the Internet. It wouldn’t be any surprise to see the Carnivore fingerprints on everything. In most cases, companies will be apathetic about this because after all, it’s the federal government, and they have to do that to protect us from terrorism. Who’s really going to question it?”
“Nobody,” Bolan said. “And you’re right in thinking the NIF’s going to use that to their advantage.”
“I spoke with the President about the situation before you returned, Striker,” Brognola said. “He’s refusing to let us simply shut down Carnivore. He thinks now that we have Rhatib in custody, and MacEwan and Bear have things well in hand in closing the remaining security holes in Carnivore, that Lenzini’s the biggest threat.”
“In this case, I think the Man and I agree,” Bolan said, surprised even as he heard the words come out of his own mouth.
Over the years Bolan’s alliance with his government had been tedious and shaky at best. Some of the previous occupants of the Oval Office had supported his work, while others used him only when deeming it absolutely necessary. Bolan couldn’t deal with the bureaucracies. He was allowed to operate on his own, pursue whatever missions he chose, but he did so on his own and without the support of the very people he worked to protect.
Nonetheless, that deal was okay with Bolan. He wished there could have been a better relationship with his government, but Bolan understood that Uncle Sam had to operate by his rules, just as the warrior had his own. Though the relationship was tense at times, it wasn’t unfriendly. And Brognola would lend the support and expertise of any member within Stony Man whenever it was needed. That was enough for the Executioner, and it was actually his preference. He was always cognizant that Brognola pushed the envelope when he rendered assistance on missions outside the approval of the Oval Office, and Bolan was vigilant in insuring that support didn’t compromise Stony Man’s security.
“Okay, so I’ve got some idea of where this has gone,” Bolan said. “Now I need a starting point, and I think we can all agree Nicolas Lenzini is the best candidate.”
“We agree,” Price replied. “We know that Lenzini’s running the operation from Boston, and he’s got his two sons handling matters at the other major Internet portals in North America. Bear?”
Kurtzman put the map back on the screen. “Striker, the gold stars you see represent the major network trafficking hubs. They include Boston and Washington, D.C., on the East Block, and out West you’ve got San Diego, Los Angeles, Oakland, Portland and Seattle.”
“Sounds like I’m going to be busy.”
“You’re not joking,” Brognola replied. “We’ve got less than seventy-two hours to put this thing down.”
The Executioner pinned his friend with the icy blue stare and said, “That’s a tall order. It’s going to take me some time to get inside Lenzini’s organization, even if I go right to the source.”
“We’ve already set that up,” Price replied. “We have someone inside their system already that will be your contact.”
“Leo?” Bolan asked.
Price nodded. “We have word that the guy you shook up when you took down the Garden of Allah nightclub skipped out with quite a bit of Lenzini’s cash. His name is Gino Pescia, and word in the OC circles at the Justice Department is that he’s gathering up a crew.”
“We think when the time’s right,” Brognola said, “he’ll end the relationship between Lenzini and the NIF, carve out a niche for himself and retire.”
Bolan shook his head. “Make no mistake this could get ugly real quick. I’ve been up against the NIF firsthand, and I can tell you that if Pescia tries to pit a bunch of his thugs against them, it’ll turn into a bloodbath.”
“Lenzini’s put an open contract on Pescia’s head,” Price continued, “so it shouldn’t be hard to get you inside as a gun-for-hire looking for a new place to settle down.”
The Executioner could buy that. It was his hit on the Garden of Allah that first turned them onto the fact Nicolas Lenzini was working with NIF. He’d spared the life of Lenzini’s errand boy, Pescia—who had blubbered and quivered like a child when confronted by Bolan—and now it sounded as if the guy chose to split off and do things his own way.
Price continued, “We’re going to send you in with the Frank Lambretta cover. Thanks to Leo, word on you is that you’re known by the nickname Loyal Lambretta.”
Brognola added, “The cover story says you got the name working for the Giancarlo Family as a button guy until their collapse in Florida last year. This is your chance to make that rumor a reality.”
“And perhaps do a little looking around to see what I can find out about Lenzini’s ties with the NIF and just how deep this goes.” Bolan nodded. “Perfect.”
Price said, “Your recent history is you’re just out of Rikers, on a manslaughter beef. That will be confirmed on the inside if anybody checks, and the paperwork is already in place at New York State headquarters. We even opened an arrest record for you.”
“Sounds like something I can play with. Not too specific and not too vague. Nice job, Barb.”
Price smiled but didn’t bask in the moment—that wasn’t her style.
“Well, I’d better get cleaned up and catch up on a few winks before I leave,” Bolan said, pushing away from the table.
Brognola stood with him and shook his hand. “Sounds like a good idea. You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Bolan said.
“Any time. With Jack out of things for a while, we’ll have to make some alternate travel arrangements for you.”
“That’s fine. I imagine once I’m inside that everything else will be on Lenzini’s dime.”
The Executioner considered the irony of his statement. He’d pose as a tough guy, quickly get on Lenzini’s good side, and then topple the Lenzini network and use the old man’s money to do it. It was a different enemy now, with different rules, but Bolan knew that the basics hadn’t changed at all. They were still ignorant of those