Sniper 04 - An Act of Treason by Jack Coughlin

Author:Jack Coughlin [Coughlin, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312612016
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

JIM HALL STOOD BEFORE the huge window in the spacious living room of the Royal Ocean Suite of the Jumeirah Beach Hotel, on the coast of Dubai. Maroon curtains flanked the impressive view of the water and the white yachts, while thin, sheer curtains cut the glare. His hand hurt.

He had flown from Islamabad International on a nonstop Emirates flight and, with his German passport, cleared customs on both ends without a problem. The customs officer in Dubai asked about the bandaged left hand and was satisfied with the explanation that much of his hand had been crushed by a falling stone in Islamabad, and then a finger had to be amputated, which was verified by a doctor's statement. A waiting limousine delivered him to the beautiful hotel.

Once in the huge suite, some 2,325 square feet of luxury, Hall took a shower, and paused while changing the bandage to examine the wound. The amputation had been clean, although after the finger was off, the edges of the severed digit were chopped and caked with dirt to make it look like an amateur job. With the mild sedatives, he had not felt much discomfort at the time, but as the anesthetic wore off, the pain visited. The doctor did a good job. Keep it clean and give it time to heal. He opened a bottle of pills and chewed two, washing them down with water. Then he used the gauze and tape to bandage it up again.

Retrieving his PDA from the pocket of the sports jacket he had worn on the trip, Hall slid into the armless gray chair before a table of shining light wood and opened the laptop computer that Lauren had left behind. The hotel offered wireless Internet connections, and in less than a minute he was logged on to his account. The bank routing numbers that he kept on the PDA were pecked carefully into the appropriate formats, using only his right hand. His days of ten-finger typing were over, he thought.

One by one, he opened various accounts in various banks and investment houses, answered security questions, and used his right index finger like a spear to force the computer to do its job. He did not have to speak to a human during the entire process, which took less than thirty minutes. By then, he had cleared out every account he had ever established for the CIA, secret holding pens in which tens of millions of dollars had been stored to pay for covert operations over the years and never returned, although the funds technically had still been under CIA control.

No longer. Jim Hall emptied them all that afternoon, as if shaking a giant trash can of cash, and moved the money to new accounts under new names in new places that protected the identity of their investors. After receiving confirmations and safely logging those combinations of letters and numbers back into the PDA, he scrubbed and destroyed the computer hard drive. He shut the lid, walked to the window, and looked at the pretty people on the pretty boats on the pretty water.

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