A/N1: I think it's unlikely that ownership of Chuck is recorded in invisible ink. How do you know if you've run out of invisible ink, anyway?
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Chuck shined a UV light on the back of Martin's shoulder.
They all looked on with surprise.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" said Sarah.
On Martin's shoulder was a two-inch square with seemingly random squares arranged inside of it. It was glowing blue under the flashlight's beam.
"What is it?" asked Chen.
"It's a QR code," explained Chuck. "Short for quick response. It's like the bar codes used with the supermarket scanners, except containing more information."
"How do we know what it says?" asked Booker.
Surprised, Martin said, "Wait a second, fellas. There's a code on my back where there should be a tattoo? Gavin 'ad 'is man put a code on?"
"Yeah, Tyler. In a tattoo only visible with UV light," said Sarah with one hand on his shoulder. "It's otherwise invisible."
"Can you open it or read it or whatever? If Gav did that, it must be important," said Martin, craning his neck to try to see the tattoo. Surprisingly, he wasn't annoyed at his dead friend and seemed to be giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Chuck took a picture of it, showed it to Martin, and said, "Let me get back to my workbench. I can work up a scanner to unlock it from the picture I just took."
"What do you think, Chuck?" asked Booker, turning off the UV flashlight and putting it in his pocket.
"No idea, Luke. Could be anything from a phone number to a link to a website. These things are used to encode information of all kinds. Started with auto parts in a factory and sort of spread from there. Let me get it decoded and I'll call you."
"Thanks, mate. Don't leave me out, please. I want to know too," said Martin.
"Sure, Tyler. I'll let you know," said Chuck.
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The next morning, Chuck had fabricated a scanner to read the QR code. It opened to a link to a website. There was a seemingly random series of letters and numbers followed by the domain suffix ".onion." When Chuck saw the suffix, he understood that the link was sending him to the dark web, inaccessible to normal search engines. He immediately opened Tor, the anonymous browser, and used it to access the site Martin's tattoo had sent him to.
Upon opening the site, he found what appeared to be documents or records in Arabic. Other than the documents, the site was empty, not even a header or explanation. He downloaded all the documents, over a thousand pages total and touched his watch to ask his team if anyone read Arabic. Sarah could speak it passably well, but couldn't read it reliably. He reached out to Fitz. Leo read Arabic and was asked to come down to Castle and take a look at the documents. He was at it for only about half an hour when he said, "Chuck, check with Colt's men, please. See if one of his guys reads Arabic. Two of us going through this would speed it up."
As it turned out, Colt's man Jack read Arabic and found himself in Castle sitting next to Leo as both men read through the documents. For hours they sat comparing notes and conferring with each other when they weren't reading. It was early evening when they declared they were ready to report what they found.
When Chuck, Sarah, Zondra and Casey heard what the documents revealed, they knew they needed an immediate call with Malone, Beckman and Graham. While Casey got through to Booker and Chen informed them of the gist of the downloaded documents, they filled him in on the contents of the computers and phones that Chuck had opened.
It was another hour before the video conference with DC was set up. Given the help that Leo and Jack had provided, both Fitz's team and Colt's team were invited, but those men stood a little behind and allowed Chuck and his team to take the lead.
The explanation took almost an hour, but by the time the call had ended the directors in DC had a game plan set for the next day.
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Tarik Hashem sipped his afternoon coffee and tried to read one of the dozens of confidential documents which had greeted him on his desk when he arrived in the morning. Being the Director of the Mukharbarat, the General Intelligence Agency of the government of Egypt, he was tasked with reading report after report. And then sitting in meeting after meeting. He missed the days of being a spy, but knew he was too old for that stuff anyway.
His secretary buzzed him. "Mr. Hashem," she said. "I have Director Malone from Washington on the phone for you."
"Thank you," he said. He had a bad feeling about this, but decided to push through his concern and greet Malone with a cheerful bonhomie.
"John, my dear friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Afternoon, Tarik. No sense beating around the bush. I want to talk to you about Riaz Nazir."
'Oh, shit,' thought Hashem with a grimace. 'Here it comes.'
"Twenty-nine years old, Nazir came to Egypt last year. He made friends. He listened. He learned about the current situation there. He did his best to investigate the human rights abuses you oversee..."
"John, I assure you..." began Hashem.
"Don't interrupt, Tarik," snapped Malone. "Drought. Food prices skyrocket and last spring you have a general strike in April. You responded as everyone knew you would. You threw everything at the striking men, including live ammunition. Killed two protesters. But, at the same time, you arrested dozens of so-called instigators. Including Nazir.
"Nazir was held in a basement chamber and tortured pretty brutally for weeks. He eventually told you everything you wanted to know. After you rung him out, you killed him. When did you discover he was an American citizen?"
"When we went to find the next of kin to return the body to," said Hashem with a sigh.
"Yeah. That must have been pretty upsetting for you guys. We tend to turn a blind eye to what you guys get up to with your own people, but you knew we'd get really pissed off if you started in on Americans that way.
"Anyway," continued Malone. "You probably thought you were in the clear. No one yelled. No family demanded that the Embassy find a missing American. No noise. No scandal. All good. Washington never hears about it and life goes on. But then there was a leak. The whole file you had on Nazir was somehow leaked. And got to an activist named Mohammed Khalil...where is he, by the way?"
"Dead," said Hashem, his voice flat.
"Yeah. That figures. Anyway, Khalil wanted to embarrass you. Well, not you personally, but your government. A lot of tension going on over there right now, as you know better than anyone. He seems to have figured that outing the torture murder of an American would upset relations between our governments and cause you guys problems."
"Will it?" asked Hashem.
"Not my call, Tarik. I just work here. And we have an election in a few days. My guess is this administration leaves this fucking mess for the next one, but that's just a guess. But, I'm not done yet.
"You needed to plug the leak. Stop Khalil from getting the information about Nazir out to the world. But you were too late. His English cousin visited with a rockstar's entourage. You ripped up the band's belongings as they were leaving, but you couldn't find the missing documents showing what you'd done to Nazir. Why not? Because the cousin had put the documents on a dark web website...I barely even know what that means. And he'd managed to smuggle out the website link. He intended to meet with an American blogger in Los Angeles eager to make a splash and to embarrass you and your government. But you figured that out when you tortured Khalil before you killed him.
"So, what did you do? At that point you hired a hit man to plug the leak, now in Los Angeles. So far, three people have been murdered by your assassin. And we got the information anyway. So, you've really shit the bed. Instead of a dead American fucking up your relations with your largest provider of foreign aid, you now have three dead Americans and a dead Brit. Great planning, my friend."
"Yes. That didn't work out at all as we'd intended," said Hashem with a sigh.
"And your operative is still out there in Los Angeles. Hasn't been stopped yet," said Malone.
"Yes," said Hashem. "So it seems."
"You ever hear the expression, 'if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging'?"
"No, I haven't. But I understand your meaning," said Hashem.
"Call him back, Tarik. I'm not saying we won't keep trying to get him, but in the meantime you get him to stand down. His mission is moot by now."
"I wish I could. But this man...he is not one of ours. He's a freelancer. Once he's turned loose, there's no way to recall him. No contact. No support. He just keeps going until he's fulfilled his contract. And he's never failed."
"Aw for fuck's sake. You know you're just making it worse for yourself...for your President."
"John, I understand. I am not trying to hide anything from you. I have been honest with you on this call. The error we made in not identifying Nazir as an American has only been compounded by our clumsy attempt to stem the leak once it crossed our borders. I would like to blame subordinates, but I am in charge and therefor I am responsible. I'm sorry, but I know that's an inadequate expression in this circumstance."
"It is. Your remorse will not change the decisions my government will take. Not at all. If I were you, I would pray that your assassin stops of his own accord. How many more targets did you assign him?"
"Only one. The singer Martin. He's the last of the targets on his list," said Hashem.
"Shit. And you're sure you can't send a recall signal or something?"
"Unfortunately, no. As you said, now that the information about Nazir is in your hands, there is no longer any point in continuing the man's mission. I would call him off if I could, but I can't."
"Alright. I believe you. Send me everything you have about the man. Any little bit might help us stop him."
"I will do so right away, John," said Hashem.
"And you might want to warn President Mubarak that some shit is probably heading his way," said John, grimly.
"I will do so. Not a pleasant conversation."
"Yeah. I hear you. You guys really fucked up on this one," said Malone.
"We did," Hashem replied.
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Martin's bodyguard must have been somewhere else, as Martin himself opened the door to the suite for his visitors.
"Chuck, Sarah, so happy to see you," he leaned forward and gave them each a quick hug with a kiss on the cheek for Sarah. Then he stuck out his hand to shake with Booker and Chen. "Detectives, welcome."
The four visitors entered his hotel suite and he closed the door and put the lock on.
"What can I get you to drink?" he asked.
"I'll have a beer," said Chuck.
"Same," said Sarah.
"Nothing for us, thanks," said Chen.
As Martin was handing Chuck and Sarah beers, Chuck said, "Where's your bodyguard?"
"I sent him on an errand," said Martin, sipping from an iced glass of straight vodka.
Sitting on one of the couches in the room, Sarah said, "Please don't do that, Tyler. Gavin's killer is out there."
"Right, right. I'll be careful," he said.
"That's actually why we are here," said Chuck. "Your tattoo was a link to a cache of documents on the web. The link is what Gavin smuggled out and what the Egyptians were looking for when you left. The link was given to Gavin by his cousin and the documents would embarrass the Egyptian government. On behalf of his cousin, Gavin was going to meet with an American political blogger to publish the documents on his blog."
Intending to make a big splash," said Sarah.
"The Egyptians caught Gavin's cousin and interrogated him to get this information," continued Chuck.
"Tortured, you mean," said Martin.
"Yes. They tortured him."
"Bastards," said Martin with a growl.
"Once they got the information they wanted from him, they engaged a hit man to follow you here to Los Angeles and kill three targets. Your friend, Gavin. The blogger, Jeff Frye. And...I'm sorry...you are the last target."
"Bloody 'ell," said Martin, shaking his head, color draining from his face.
"It's why we want you to have bodyguards around. The man is still out there looking for you and there's no way to call him off," said Sarah.
"Who is 'e?"
"His name is Hans Van Mulder..." said Chuck.
"Dutch?" asked Martin.
"No. Boer from South Africa. He's a known assassin for hire. Works for anyone with the money to pay him. Spent time in the French Foreign Legion then started work for the Russian SVR, Russian intelligence. Went freelance about five or six years ago. Interpol has been looking for him all that time. There are dozens of killings he's at least suspected of," said Sarah.
Martin turned to Booker and Chen and said, "And your lot are looking for him, right?"
"Right. But, from everything we understand, he's good at changing his appearance and manages to get top notch documents to cover his identity. We wanted to warn you. This son of a bitch is relentless. Even when you head back to England, he'll keep coming for you," said Chen.
"What if I cover over the tattoo?" asked Martin.
"You should definitely do that," said Chuck. "But we don't think it will make any difference. We think he'll keep coming anyway."
"Well, shit," said Martin, disgusted. "What do you suggest? I can't 'ide for the rest of my life."
"There are no good solutions, Tyler," said Sarah. "I'm sorry. I think you'll have to spend some resources on bodyguards and listen to their advice. For the foreseeable future."
Martin sat in the seat, leaning back, one ankle on the opposite knee, tapping a tooth with a fingernail. He didn't move for almost a minute.
"This wanker killed my mate. I want to get 'im. I want you lot to get 'im, even if you can't toast 'im. 'E killed three people 'ere in your city. I guess you want 'im too."
"Damn right," said Booker.
"Ok, then. Let's do it. I'll do a concert, a concert for charity with cheap tickets...um, what's a police charity?"
"The Foundation," said Booker. "The Los Angeles Police Foundation."
"Right...that. Do a charity concert for the Foundation. Big splash in all the papers. Lots of publicity. He'll come for me there and you lads will find 'im and nail 'im," said Martin.
"No, Tyler," said Chuck. "I don't want to use you as bait. You could get hurt...you could get dead."
"I know that, Chuck. But it's my choice, right? I want to stop the arsehole that killed Gavin. That's the most important thing. To stop this man from killing again. I'm not a hero, but I'll gladly risk my life to do that...to stop this bastard."
The four Americans looked at one another and shrugged, nodding. Chuck said, "Ok, Tyler. We'll make it happen and we'll flood the place with undercover folks to protect you."
"Smashing," said Martin with a grin, taking a big swallow of his drink.
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A/N2: QR code readers are on all our cellphones today. Not so in 2008, though.
A/N3: In April of 2008 there was a general strike in Egypt caused, at least in part, by soaring food prices. Environmentalists blame the drought (which caused the rise in prices) on climate change. Three years later came the so-called Arab Spring, when the Arab world was rocked by a series of mostly non-violent protests against the authoritarian governments in the region. Although Egypt's President Hosni Mubarak had been an American ally for decades by that point, the Obama administration's support for his government was lukewarm at best. Perhaps the death of Nazir was part of the reason (just kidding; he's fictional).
A/N4: Let me know if this makes more sense than a tattoo of the plans for a nuclear power plant run by a group of North African mercenaries who sold the product of the plant to other bad actors and put the tattoo on Martin's back in order to...in order to...aw, to hell with it. I still can't figure out the plot of that episode. Anyway, what do you guys think?