Tom Clancy Duty and Honor (32 page)

WINDHOEK, NAMIBIA

J
ack didn’t respond immediately. Though he’d started all this with the sole intention of finding the answer Effrem now claimed to have, Jack realized it hadn’t been on his mind for days. He’d stopped wondering why someone had tried to kill him. It was an odd feeling.

“Tell me,” Jack replied.

“Last year you did a financial audit on a German company called Dovestar Industrial Machinery.”

Jack recalled the job. As part of Hendley Associates’ white-hat cover, he and several other analysts took on consulting contracts, usually having to do with mergers and acquisitions. As Jack recalled, Dovestar was one of five audits he did that year.

“I think I remember,” he said. “It was routine. A couple days in Aachen, then back home.”

“There was a little more to it than that.”

“Refresh my memory.”

“A Dutch company offered to buy Dovestar. By all measures it was a good offer. But Dovestar declined. For whatever reason, both the Dutch and German press got ahold of the story and started asking questions. The rumors were that Dovestar was in financial trouble, considering layoffs, and maybe on the road to bankruptcy. So why turn down the buyout? everyone asked. That’s where you came in.

“To assuage fears, Dovestar contracted Hendley to do an audit.”

It was coming back to Jack now. “It was essentially a financial-soundness report. I don’t recall any red flags.”

“That’s because they were buried very deep, and it wasn’t that kind of audit. The long and the short of it is this: Through a number of cutouts, Dovestar is ultimately owned by Rostock Security Group. That kind of subterfuge is what Alexander Bossard’s firm specializes in, and as far as I can tell, RSG had been their only client for the past six years. Dovestar’s a legitimate company, but RSG has been using some of its accounts as hidden piggy banks.”

“For what purpose?”

“If I had to guess, an off-the-books operational fund.
Your audit, routine though it was, triggered an automatic review by BaFin.”

Jack knew the abbreviation. It stood for Bundesanstalt für Finanzdienstleistungsaufsicht—the Federal Financial Supervisory Authority. In essence it was Germany’s version of America’s Securities and Exchange Commission.

Effrem went on: “The hearing was scheduled for next month. You’re supposed to testify as to your audit findings.”

Jack shrugged. “I hadn’t heard about it. It might be sitting in my in-box.”

“Without your sworn testimony the chances that RSG’s relationship with Dovestar and the disposition of those secret funds will be exposed drop to almost zero,” said Effrem.

“If I go away, the problem goes away,” Jack added.

“That’s what Rostock was probably hoping for. From what I gather, it’s German boilerplate law: Without you present to certify the audit and be examined by Dovestar’s counsel, the audit is worthless.”

Jack suddenly realized the solution to all this might be as simple as his showing up for the audit hearing next month. Or maybe not. Everything they had on RSG and Dovestar’s relationship had been obtained illegally. None of it was admissible, and if he tried to get around that, BaFin would find his hands dirty and his audit suspect.

He asked, “What’s the status of the Dovestar funds now?”

“According to Bossard’s memoranda, they were cleared out and buried about a month after you filed your audit, but as I said, it’s a permanent legal record. A snapshot, if you will. If BaFin managed to trace Dovestar to RSG, Rostock would end up in the hot seat.”

Jack smiled. “Effrem, you continue to impress me.”

Effrem shrugged. “I spent most of my childhood sitting at the kitchen table watching my mother dissect financial and political puzzles. It must have rubbed off on me.”

“What we need to know is how and where Rostock was spending that money.”

“According to Mitch, through Dovestar, Jürgen Rostock’s paid Klugmann almost four hundred thousand dollars over the past five years for ‘IT consulting.’”

“That’s a lot of hacking,” Jack replied. “Or a few select, high-level jobs.”

Jack now had his long-awaited answer, but as was par for the course, it only led to more questions. Klugmann was in Namibia and Möller was in Namibia. Therefore, by proxy Jürgen Rostock was in Namibia.

—

J
ack tried to grab a couple hours’ sleep. His mind wouldn’t quiet, so after twenty minutes he got up and returned to the main room. René was in the adjoining kitchen, making
coffee. Effrem still sat on the floor, laptop resting on his crossed legs.

“Good morning,” René said with a smile. “Coffee?”

“Morning. Sure.”

“Effrem told me about the plane. You’re sure it was Möller?”

“Yes.”

“Was there anyone else you recognized?”

Translation: Was Rostock there? Jack replied, “No one who looked familiar.”

Jack walked away from René, sat down in the armchair, and whispered to Effrem, “Did you tell him about Dovestar?”

“No. It’s your call whether he can handle it.”

“Let me give it some thought.”

Jack opened his laptop and downloaded Mitch’s Bossard files from the server. All were searchable PDFs. According to Mitch’s attached note, the only mention of Jack was in relation to the Dovestar audit, but Jürgen Rostock and RSG appeared in the files hundreds of times, which made sense as RSG was Bossard’s only client.

“Effrem, start a spreadsheet. I want you to track the dates and amounts Klugmann was paid by Dovestar. He was paying Klugmann a lot of money, which suggests whatever Rostock needed him to do was significant. Based on what I’m seeing, Bossard handled a lot of overseas logistics, shipping,
and procurement for RSG, but the details are ambiguous. I want to know if any of Klugmann’s payments match them.”

“Match them how?”

“Amounts, locations, permit applications, and transport arrangements . . . Anything.”

Over the next two hours they went about their individual tasks, Effrem building a payment profile for Klugmann, and Jack a history of possible RSG overseas operations. Once done, they compared data. Jack said, “Okay, over the past five years I’ve got four RSG projects Bossard spent a lot of time on: one in Canada, one in Panama, one in India . . .”

“And most recently Namibia,” Effrem added.

“Right.” Jack gave Effrem the date ranges. “Any close matches to Klugmann?”

Effrem traced his finger down his screen. “Six payments from Dovestar. Looks like a couple for each date range you gave me. What do you think? Down payment and final payment for services rendered?”

“Possibly.”

“There’re no payments for Namibia, though.”

“The Dovestar fund was shut down after my audit. They must be paying Klugmann through another source. Let’s look at what was going on in those countries at the time. I’ll take Canada and Panama, you take India.”

“What am I looking for?” Effrem asked. “The phrase ‘going on’ is a little vague.”

“Anything that might fall within RSG’s wheelhouse—terrorist incidents, major crimes, assassination attempts. You get the idea.”

Their task was challenging. Each of these countries had its fair share of problems—fringe political factions, terrorist groups, drug cartels, attempted coups, as well as frequent instances of random violence in the larger metropolitan areas. Even having restricted their searches to Jack’s date ranges, there were hundreds of incidents that might have something to do with Rostock Security Group.

“I’m not getting anywhere,” Effrem said after an hour.

Jack sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. “Same here.”

They knew Bossard was doing legal work for RSG in these countries at these times, and they knew Gerhard Klugmann had been paid for services rendered during these times. The correlation was there, but not the common thread.

René, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, said, “This Klugmann is a computer expert, a hacker?”

“Right,” Effrem replied.

“Then clearly that’s what Klugmann”—René hesitated, then finished—“was being paid to do. What you’re looking for aren’t incidents, but rather incidents related to computer malfunction.”

Jack smiled. He and Effrem had overlooked the obvious. “Smart, René,” Jack said. He did note, however, that René
had shied away from naming Rostock as Klugmann’s paymaster. He wasn’t quite there yet.

“Effrem, let’s try this again but narrow the search even further.”

René’s tweak made an immediate difference. Effrem called from his laptop, “I may have something. Two years ago, a waste reclamation plant in Mumbai dumped fifty thousand gallons of sewage into the Ulhas River. Cleanup is ongoing. Multiple lawsuits against the Japanese company responsible for the plant’s operation. Suspected cause: sitewide system malfunction.

“Here’s something in Ontario from three years ago: Control systems for two oil refineries malfunctioned and vented thousands of barrels into a nearby fishery.”

René asked, “Private company?”

“Yes,” Jack replied. “I’ve also got two incidents in Panama last year, both at sugarcane storage facilities. One, a malfunction in the climate control system that led to fungus infestation. Estimated loss was sixty million. The other was a fire control system that failed to detect a fire. Estimated loss was thirty million. Both facilities were privately managed.”

“I’d call that a pattern,” said Jack.

“What are we saying, though? That Klugmann cyberattacked those facilities and caused those catastrophes? For what reason?”

“Who stood to benefit from those companies’ losing their contracts?” Jack asked. “Did these countries nationalize the failed facilities, or did they hire another company to take over?”

Effrem surfed on his laptop for a few minutes. “Mumbai’s reclamation plant stayed private, but another company is managing the facility.”

“Same with Ontario,” Jack noted. “And Panama.”

“This is unbelievable,” Effrem said. “We can’t be looking at this right.”

Jack wasn’t so sure. Economic espionage was a booming business, with hundreds of billions of dollars at stake. Rarely did a week pass without a new story about one company trying to sabotage a rival’s market research or financial position. Gossip was spread, media campaigns launched, and legal battles fought, all as an economic cold war. Was direct-action sabotage that much more of a stretch?

The Panamanian sugarcane business was probably $4 billion a year. With those kinds of profits, hiring someone like Rostock to oust a rival company and be installed in its place could be seen as both a reasonable expense and a sound investment.

Marshal Allemand had mentioned the immense coffers Rostock would need to fund his private war on terrorism. Having failed to find either advocates or investors, had the
German developed a niche side business as an economic mercenary?

Talk about aggressive market development
. Through disaster Rostock creates an economic vacuum and then arrives to save the day for his client. Jack wondered how many times Rostock had done this. They’d found three possible instances, and perhaps one in the making here in Namibia, but could there be others they had yet to find?

René, who had been following the exchange closely, walked over and sat down on the couch opposite Jack. “All this that you’re suggesting, you believe Alexander Bossard is involved?”

Jack and Effrem exchanged glances. Jack hesitated, then replied, “Involved, yes, but he’s secondary. We think Jürgen Rostock is at the head of it.”

René nodded thoughtfully. “And why would he do all this?”

“To fund his war on terrorism,” said Effrem. “René, you said it yourself: Rostock is convinced governments can’t do the job and that his approach is the only one that has a chance of working. Does he believe that? Is he truly committed?”

“Of course.”

Jack said, “Then how do you know how far he’s willing to go? If you need to make a little mess to clean up a bigger one, isn’t it a fair trade?”

René was frowning, shaking his head. “Stop. Just please stop.”

Jack and Effrem went quiet. Finally René said, “Earlier you were talking about Dovestar. What is that?”

“Are you asking?” said Jack.

“Obviously.”

“Just wanted to make sure. Effrem, tell him everything.”

Effrem did so, starting with Jack’s audit of Dovestar, RSG’s connection to it, and the secret operational fund. He ended his recap with the evidence that Dovestar had been paying Klugmann.

“It sounds like there is a better case against Bossard,” René said.

Jack did his best to keep the frustration from his voice. “Here’re the pieces of the puzzle. Follow me on this: Without knowing it, I uncover evidence that Rostock is hiding money at Dovestar; Eric Schrader tries to kill me, Schrader works for Rostock, Schrader and Möller know one another, therefore Möller likely works for Rostock. There’s evidence Schrader was involved with the Lyon attacks. Finally, there’s evidence that it was Rostock who kidnapped you, held you, and tortured you.”

“What evidence?”

Effrem answered: “Janine Périer.”

“What about her?”

“She doesn’t exist,” said Jack. “Her real name is Janine
Pelzer. She’s German. She lives in Munich, the same place RSG is headquartered. Rostock used her as a lure, René. She helped set up your kidnapping.”

“No. I don’t believe you.”

Jack replied, “There’s a part of you that does.”

“Why would Jürgen do that?”

Jack decided they’d pushed René far enough for now. “We don’t know yet. We’re working on it.”

René waved his hand dismissively. “Until you have an answer for me, I refuse to buy into any of this.” He stood and stared down at Jack. “Do you really believe I could miss seeing all this? I’m going for a walk to clear my head.”

—

W
ith his belly in a knot, Jack took the elevator down to the lobby, then out the doors to the valet desk. It was two hours since René had left.

“Can I help you, sir,” the valet on duty said.

“I’m looking for a friend. He came down a couple hours ago.” Jack described René’s face and clothing.