Chapter Twenty-Two

Kennedy held Titus's gaze for a long moment, steepled his fingers, and said, "I'm reminding you that we agreed that the Olivia Gladstone information was part of a privileged conversation. If anything is to be shared, it will be at the discretion of the U.S. government, not Iniquus taking the reins." Kennedy relaxed his hands onto his knees and turned to Nutsbe. "As for you, Nutsbe, we picked up your name on two different police reports today. Not really playing this with a low profile."

"Any thoughts about whether today's events could be tied to the Russo-Albanian-FBI case?" Nutsbe asked.

"It occurred to us." Finley pointed toward the board. "Could I take a picture of your notes?"

"They're speculatory in blue and known in red," Titus said. "You can have them as part of your deal with Covington. Share and share alike."

"Agreed." Finley stood and walked toward the whiteboard.

"While you look at that," Nutsbe said, "let me ask you this: Any chance the FBI wants to keep me quiet? Do you know of anyone who might be taking potshots at me as I leave the courthouse where my name is listed and of public record?"

"I'm not saying it's impossible." Finley held his phone up, methodically taking pictures of sections of the whiteboard.

"It's not a Russian M.O.," Kennedy pointed out.

"But just like the extremist organization story with the American on his motorcycle any of the possible players could have hired out," Finley turned and walked back to the table to sit next to Kennedy. "You remember the case Panther Force worked on with the militia group in West Virginia where some of the members got caught up in the Russian scheme to get computer gamers to take patriotic actions, that is, step in and do their dirty work for them."

"We remember," Titus said.

"Russia, Albania, or McMahan any of them could have made the hire," Kennedy said. "All of them would have the right connections to make that happen."

"Then we have no idea in what direction Nutsbe needs his defense up," Titus said.

"Witness protection program," Finley kidded. "We can get the marshals involved."

"Hell to the no, we're not getting the marshals involved," Nutsbe stabbed a finger onto the table punctuating each word. "These last two days are starting to make my mind spin. It's like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. It's coming in from all sides. You guys didn't just come down here to do a welfare check. What's up?" Nutsbe asked.

"We know how Russia got hold of your name. And going forward, you, and more broadly Iniquus, will want this information. It's classified. My superior, Frost, permitted me to read you into this part. And since the FBI often works hand in hand with Iniquus," He looked at his watch. "I've got an appointment here in a minute to explain this to your command and head of IT."

Nutsbe reached up to rub the corner of his eye. "All right, let's hear it. They didn't hack our computers. Did the FBI get hacked?"

"Not to our knowledge," Kennedy said. "While Iniquus has leaned into AI from the beginning, you know that's a double-edged sword. Like anything, the good is quickly overshadowed by people with less-than-golden intentions. In this case, AI sound technology is the problem. We believe they got your name through your fingerprint."

Thorn walked through the door, moved to the table, and sat facing the special agents.

"We're about to learn how Russia got hold of my identification through sound," Nutsbe filled him in.

"Shit," Thorn said.

"Sound and fingerprints?" Nutsbe turned to Finley. "My fingerprints are on file with the FBI for security clearances. I don't use my fingerprint as biometric identification. I think it leads to a dangerous trail. You never know what the engineers are going to figure out next."

"There is now an AI system," Finley said, "that automatically identifies a person's fingerprints through the swipe of a finger on a touchscreen apparatus—computer, smartphone, tablet. When swiping, the gesture creates a friction sound that is captured and analyzed using a localized algorithm. The AI system can infer from the sound irregularities and interpret the noise to create a reproduction of individual"s fingerprints."

"The sound," Nutsbe was flabbergasted, "of me swiping my finger on a screen."

Titus turned to Thorn. "Would Arya know anything about that?"

"Negative. Arya studies large animals with low resonance sound waves. And even if she knew anything about it, would I allow you to talk to her about a terrorist? Hell no, brother, I would not."

"Is this swipe-sound technology accurate enough to be used in a court of law?" Nutsbe asked.

"At this stage," Finley said, "it's helping both the good and the bad guys comb through the haystack to pick out the possible needle. Once you're on their radar, the next steps can be taken to refine and confirm."

"The FBI has gamed this out," Kennedy said. "Since biometric fingerprint securityis widespread, if the AI capability continues to advance, illegal market fingerprint authentication information could criminally generate about a hundred billion US dollars in the next decade. Businesses and people who work in sensitive fields have been cautious about revealing their fingerprints. Some people in intelligence have become very aware of their hands in photographs. CIA, DIA, and FBI are all coached on this now. The right camera shot, an excellent computer system, and the finger pad could be enlarged and focused to expose the fingerprint for exploitation. But why put assets out in public, working to capture that picture? A viral app—one that requires you to swipe—so think, game, screen, anything with a downward swipe—and the AI can capture the sound and create the print for hundreds of millions of people and hold them on file. Make that app free, let it go viral, and you could build a computer bank of players' biomarkers very quickly."

Nutsbe laced his fingers, resting his hands on his head. "I swiped something."

"You did," Kennedy said quietly. "We think at least twice."

"Do you know what it was?" Nutsbe asked.

Finley leaned forward. "We believe that Russia captured your print most recently when you talked to Iniquus client Amanda Bradshaw."

Nutsbe moved his hands to the arms of his chair and leaned forward. "I know the name. I met her once in person, and she contacted me once with a security question. She was a student who was doing research at the August Helsinki meeting when Panther Force was doing close protection for State."

Titus said, "Panther Force was contracted by her university to provide kidnap and ransom support if needed—which it was not—we played no role."

"Nutsbe introduced himself," Kennedy said. "It's in his reports."

"That's right," Nutsbe agreed, "I introduced myself, but not by name. I said I was with Iniquus Panther Force and that we had a connection to her university. I didn't go into any details beyond that."

"One of the last photos from the meeting had you in it," Kennedy said. "You were in your Iniquus uniform, shaking Bradshaw's hand. She went to Moscow to visit her grandmother and was arrested. Her grandmother called the U.S. consulate, and we began to monitor her phone. Since that arrest, she called and talked to you, sending you a link." Kennedy paused, turning to Titus. "Any word on her well-being?"

"Nothing we can share," Titus said. He turned to Nutsbe, "Amanda was arrested in Moscow on espionage charges."

Nutsbe scowled by way of response. "You said Russia had my Thaddeus Crushed name. Amanda doesn't know my name. But you're right, recently, she called the Iniquus help number given to her university. Communications would have directed the call to my phone. She wanted me to check on a website for her."

"We monitored and recorded that interaction from her phone. We believe they took your swipe from the Bradshaw call as the collection point," Kennedy said.

"Why do you think that? That swipe on my phone would have given them nothing to make Russia curious about me," Nutsbe insisted.

"Alone, no," Kennedy agreed. "However, we think that McMahan was monitoring Hoxha's computer. This is how we see it playing out: In Helsinki, when you met Amanda, you were in an Iniquus uniform, and a picture of the two of you was taken and forwarded to her phone."

"Okay," Nutsbe nodded.

"After her arrest, Russians went through the phone, and in that picture are you, Amanda, and the Russian president."

"That's right, he moved through that room. We didn't approach him."

"The Russian investigators latched on to that picture and asked Amanda for your name and affiliation."

"She would say she doesn't know my name, but I work with her university," Nutsbe filled in.

"She had to have remembered your affiliation with Iniquus. Iniquus has done a lot of damage to various Russian schemes. The SVR would recognize the Iniquus name. If we were in the Russian investigator's shoes, we'd want to know your name explicitly. So they got Amanda to call you. That we know as fact. Like I said," Kennedy pushed forward in his chair, "Intelligence was monitoring her phone after her grandmother informed the consulate of her arrest."

"Okay," Nutsbe's mind was mile-a-minute trying to piece this together.

"The goal, we believe, was to get you to swipe the screen and, in that way, obtain your fingerprint to compare to their data bank."

"But Amanda wouldn't know who to ask for," Nutsbe insisted.

"She could have described you to communications," Finley offered. "And she could narrow it to Panther Force."

"True. Okay, so they got the swipe. Still, how did they put it together with my name? Wait a minute; the FBI knows about this because you all use this AI advancement. Of course, you do." Nutsbe leaned back in his chair, looking up toward the ceiling and thinking, "And McMahan would have wanted to keep a close eye on Hoxha from the beginning to see if that connection was trustworthy before McMahan got himself tied up in anything." His voice faded as he tested that theory in his mind. Could it be?

"Bingo," Finley said. "You were on Hoxha's computer, weren't you?"

Nutsbe sat up to look at Finley. "I was. And I swiped. And McMahan would have had those prints. This was years ago, before he did anything illegal with Hoxha. I was only on his computer once. At that time, McMahan could have had someone look at the IAFS to give him my name. Back then, he might have backburnered it because Iniquus was working on the company's Montenegro retreat security, so my involvement wouldn't have raised any suspicions. And again, McMahan wasn't doing anything wrong. If he was watching for me to swipe again, I never did. Just the one time."

"And at some point," Thorn added, "he could have handed the information over to Albania or Russia. I'm getting the picture."

"Bingo again," Finley said. "In this working scenario, Russia had your fingerprint and the data from the FBI. They would know your fingerprint was associated with Hoxha and McMahan."

"Hoxha anyway, and years ago," Nutsbe insisted.

"Year's ago. And uninteresting at the time. But things have become complicated for all the players in that scheme since then."

"Right," Nutsbe said.

"And when your Amanda-swipe matched the sound pattern of the print on Hoxha's computer, suddenly your name rises to the top like cream. After the Amanda call, intelligence started hearing your name in dangerous circles."

Nutsbe wasn't a fan of the sensations around his jaw and neck. It took effort to remain stoic.

"That's what we believe happened. And when we know more, we'll share more." Kennedy stood and pointed to the board. "Thank you for your notes. We're going to keep working on this situation." He turned to his partner. "Finley, anything you need to add?"

"Not now, no." He lifted his phone. "After speaking with Command, I want to go back to the office and think about all this."

The two men lifted their hands as a parting salute and left.

"Amanda Bradshaw," Titus said. "Son of a bitch."