Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B (15 page)

Chapter N
ine
teen

U
ncle Doug was talking on the phone with a yacht dealer on the East Coast when I walked into his office.  He motioned for me to take a seat while he finished up his call. 

“Yeah, Marv.
 
Sounds great.
  You get a crew together to sail her over here and I’ll have her sold before she gets through the Panama Canal.  Just fax me all the specs and we’ll be in touch.  I’ve got to go.  I’ll call you next week,” he said and hung up the phone.

Then he turned his attention to me.  “Where the heck have you been?  We’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Doug.  It was too dangerous to contact you.  I’m sure the Feds and the CIA are tapping your phones by now.  Can we go outside?” I said.

“Sure.  Let’s take a walk.  I want to show you the new yacht I just got in yesterday.”

We walked down the dock toward a beautiful vessel tied up at the end of the landing.  It had to be one of the most exquisite sailing crafts I’d ever laid my eyes on.  She
was an absolute work of art.  Her lines were as appealing to the eye as a painting by any of the great masters.  Every detail, down to the hatch handle, showed evidence of impeccable care.  At one time, she was someone’s pride and joy.  I wondered why she was on the market.

“Wow.  What a beauty,” I said as I admired the luxury sailing yacht, appropriately named,
The Jewel
.  “Why would someone want to sell such a lovely boat?”

“The man who had her built passed away recently.  He owned a small winery up in the Napa Valley.  His widow didn’t share her husband’s love for sailing.  The business he left her was struggling, so she decided to sell.”

“Have you got a buyer for her?”

“Not yet. 
Won’t be hard to find a buyer.
 
Sixty feet of pure joy.
  She’s got four double cabins, each with their own private heads.  Fully equipped galley
—
every piece of navigation equipment you can imagine.  Even has an auto pilot.  Take a look at this deck.  Isn’t that teak gorgeous?”

I ran my hand along the railing, remembering the feeling I had the first time I saw the
Plan B
.  “She’s exquisite,” I said as I daydreamed about sailing somewhere in the clear blue waters of the Caribbean.

Then I remembered why I was there, and I was hurled out of my sweet daydream into the cold reality of my life.  “Uncle Doug, can we go meet your friend at the
Los Angeles Times
?  I’ve got some new information that’s really incredible.  I think we can blow this thing out of the water
—
pardon the expression.”

“Right now?”

“If we could.
  It’s urgent.”

“Let’s go.  I’ll get George to watch the office for me.  I’ll meet you in the parking lot.  I’m in the Ferrari today.”

Peter Cunningham
, a veteran reporter with the
L.A. Times
,
listened intently and took notes as I described the events of the past few days to him.   Then, with amazement, he read the documents I brought on the CD.  He looked like a gold miner who’d just struck the mother lode.

“This is remarkable.  Where did you get it?”

“Is it important for you to know?  I mean, I don’t want to put any more people in danger.”

“It would help if I had some sort of witness.  Of course, the identity of that person would be kept completely confidential.”

I thought for a moment.  “Can I use your network connection for this laptop, Mr. Cunningham?”

He looked a little confused.  “Sure.  I guess so.  What for?” he asked.

“I think I might have a witness for you
—
if we can convince him.”

I made the connection and signaled for a response from my newest chat room acquaintance.

He came on line and requested my identity.

“
It’s
Devonie
,” I typed.

“
What’s happening?
” he asked.

“
I found the evidence we need.  I’m at the
L.A. Times
.  The reporter’s convinced this new evidence
—
along with the copies
of E-mails I had sent earlier
—
can launch a full-blown Senate investigation, provided you agree to be a witness in the case
.”

“
What kind of evidence did you get?
”

“
I found documents that implicate major U
.
S
.
banks and investors in the Mexican drug trade.  Powers and Norris had copies of the documents with them when their plane crashed, but Powers made a backup and mailed it to his wife before he left Mexico.  I got the backup from her.  The reporter wants to meet you.
”

There was a long pause.  Finally, a response came across the screen.  “
What assurance do I have that my identity will be kept concealed?
”

Peter asked if he could respond.  I slid the computer in front of him.  “
This is Peter Cunningham responding to your concerns
,” he typed.  “
You have my personal guarantee that your identity will be held in the strictest confidence.  If you know anything about me at all, then you know I have gone to jail on several occasions for refusing to reveal my sources
.”

Again, there was a pause.  Finally, a response appeared on the screen.  “
I’ll have to think about this.  I’ll contact Mr. Cunningham within twenty-four hours with my answer.
”

“
Good enough
,” Peter entered.

I took the computer back and closed down the connection.  “Before I give you this CD, I want to copy it to my hard drive.  It shouldn’t take too long,” I said to Peter.

“That’s fine,” he said as he continued making notes in his
notepad
.

Uncle Doug was watching the file copy procedure with interest.  “One of these days I’ll have to get myself up to speed on these computers,” he said.

Peter laughed.  “I know what you mean, Doug.  These young hotshot reporters
—
running around with their little notebook computers, downloading their stories right from the scene
—
are going to put me out of a job one of these days.  I’m still getting by with a notepad and a pencil.”

I closed down the laptop and put it back in its case.  “You’re wrong about that.  All the computers in the world will never replace the talent and skill people like the two of you have.”

“Thank you,
Devonie
,” Peter replied.  “Let’s keep in touch on this.  I’m sure I’ll have more questions for you once I’ve gone through my notes.  Hopefully our mystery witness will come through for us and we can bring a whole lot of people to justice.  I realize I won’t be able to contact you at my convenience, but if you can possibly check in with me daily?”

“Sure,” I replied.

Back at the Ferrari, Uncle Doug pulled a small key from his pocket.  “
Here.
 
Harv
down at the bank had a replacement key for your safe-deposit box made for you.”

“Great.  Thank you,” I said as I took the key from him.  “Uncle Doug, do you still have that vacation house up at Tahoe?”

“The Incline Village house?
  Sure.  Arlene and I go there at least four times a year.  Say, that wouldn’t be a bad place for you to hide out for a while.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Let’s stop back at the house and pick up the key.  We can get you some transportation while we’re at it.”

This time, transportation turned out to be Aunt Arlene’s more conservative Camry.  I stopped at a branch of my bank and made a deposit of five thousand dollars into my checking account.  Then I drove all night and rolled into Tahoe at nearly three in the morning.

Chapter Twenty

I
followed the directions on the map Uncle Doug drew for me and found the house without too much trouble.  I was
t
here once, as a teenager, for a family Christmas vacation.  Doug and Arlene invited the whole family for a week of fun in the snow.  We skied and sledded and rode for miles on snowmobiles.  We had a contest to see who could build the world’s ugliest snowman
—
a competition in which I won.  We had snowball fights in the afternoons, and at night we roasted marshmallows in the fireplace.  It was a really good time.  I missed Christmas’s like that
—
when the whole family got together and didn’t worry about anything except whose turn it was to split wood for the fire.

I let myself into the house and turned on some lights.  Uncle Doug called ahead and had the kitchen stocked with food and supplies for me.  I made myself a sandwich and sat down at the big desk in the den.  I was dead tired but I had one more job to do before retiring for the night.  The time difference in Switzerland dictated
that I take care of that business
right away
.  I booted the laptop up, connected to
VideoService
, and noted the phone number of the Swiss Bank Corporation
—
the institution that housed Robert
Kephart’s
account.  I dialed the number then waited for an answer.

“Hello.  I’d like to find out about opening an account with your bank,” I requested.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too difficult to open the account.  I had to make a minimum deposit, which I made using an electronic funds transfer from my account in the States.  I provided all the necessary information over the phone, and I was faxed a form to fill out, sign and fax back.  I was informed I could begin making deposits immediately, but of course, there would be a seven to ten day
waiting
period to complete the assignment. 

Then I connected again to the
VideoService
program and logged into
Kephart’s
account.  When I tried to generate a payment order, a dialog box appeared in the center of the screen. 
Please enter secondary confirmation password:

I stared blankly at the screen. 
Secondary password
?
  I wasn’t prompted for that when I inquired on the account earlier.  The additional security must have been in effect for any transactions other than inquiries.  I tapped my teeth with my fingernails and ran the options through my head.

I dialed the bank’s number again.  “Hello.  Can you please connect me with your Information Services Manager?” I requested.

“One moment, please.”

“Hello.  Conrad
Kobl
speaking,” a voice with a thick accent responded.

“Hello, Mr.
Kobl
.  I wonder if you have a few minutes to participate in a brief information technology survey my company is conducting.  I promise I’ll only require five minutes of your time.”

“I’m very busy.  Can you call back later?” he replied.

“I absolutely guarantee you’ll be no more than five minutes.  The responses to our questions will be published in
ComputerWorld
magazine.  We may even want to visit your site and shoot some photos for the issue.  I’ve been given the authority to send you a wonderful free gift if you agree to participate.”

“Free gift?”

“Yes, Mr.
Kobl
.  If you agree to answer my questions, I’ll send you a discount coupon good for fifty dollars off any Microsoft software product you choose.”

“Well, okay.  Go ahead.”

“Thank you.  First of all, what hardware platform are you currently on?”

“We’re running on NCR servers now.”

“And what operating system?”

“UNIX.
  We are experimenting with a
WindowsNT
network, but it’s for in-house use only, at this time.”

“Very good.
  Tell me, Mr.
Kobl
, what is your application software platform?”

“We operate under a very popular banking package provided by an outside vendor.
 
We do have two in-
house software developers who write specialized applications specific to our business.”

“Does your banking package include a payroll module?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Do you use a relational database?”

“Yes.  We use Oracle.”

“I see.  Thank you very much, Mr.
Kobl
.  That’s all the questions I have for you.  Watch for that discount coupon in the mail.”

I pressed the hook on the phone then redialed the bank.  “Hello.  Human Resources, please.”

“One moment,
”
the receptionist said,
then
transferred me.

“This is Caroline.  How may I help you?”
the woman from H.R. said.

“Hi, Caroline.
  My name is Trisha Yerington.  I’m from Microsoft.  I’m calling to confirm the attendance of two of your employees at our upcoming software Developers’ Expo next month.  Let’s see, I have their names listed here, somewhere.  What did I do with that list?” I fumbled with some papers on the desk.

“That would have to be Raul and Marie.  They’re our only programmers,” she
said
.

“Yes.  I believe those are the names I have noted here.  Gee.  I can’t seem to make out the last names.  Could you confirm the spelling for me?”

“Sure.  That’s Raul Napoli and Marie Marcos.  I’m checking our records, but I don’t see anything about them being off-site for any conferences next month. 
Marie isn’t here today, but I can check with Raul to see if it has just fallen through the cracks.  Are you sure about this?”

“You know, you’re right.  It looks like they only requested information about the conference.  I’ll be sure to get that in the mail to them right away.  Thank you for your help.”

I
hung up,
then
called the bank back.  “Hello.  May I speak with Raul Napoli, please?”

“One moment
.”

“This is Raul,” the voice announced.

“Hello, Raul. 
This as Connie from Oracle Worldwide Support.
  I’ve been assigned to troubleshoot a problem with your payroll system.  Let’s see, I have TAR number 455399-0d.  Are you aware of the problem?”

“No.  I didn’t report any
issues
,” Raul responded.

“No.  It looks like a Marie Marcos
opened the ticket
.  She elevated the incident to the highest priority.  Apparently, your payroll may not go through if we don’t get this solved.”

“I wasn’t aware of any problem.  Have you resolved it yet?” he asked.

“I haven’t been able to log onto your UNIX box.  The representative who wrote the trouble ticket must have botched the ROOT password.  I’ve tried several times, but it keeps denying me.  Can you please confirm the modem phone number and password for me?”

“Sure.  Hang on a minute.   I’ll get that for you.”

I carefully wrote down the information Raul so willingly supplied me.  I remembered from past
experience that whenever payroll was in jeopardy, normal security protocol got tossed to the wind.

“Thanks, Raul.  You should see me dialing in shortly.  Hopefully, I’ll have it solved in a jiffy.  From what Marie reported, it sounds as though we just need to add a data-file to your User-Data table-space.”

“Just so we all get paid tomorrow.  Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.  Thanks for your help.”

I logged into the server and assigned Robert
Kephart
a new password. 
It
was almost too easy.  Spencer would have been proud of me.

I connected to
Kephart’s
account in
VideoService
again
,
then
sailed right through the secondary password.  I issued a payment order to transfer funds to my new account and assigned it an execution date of tomorrow.  Then I shut down the computer, found my way to a comfortable bed and crashed.