Palm Sunday (23 page)

Sharon smiled at him. “We’re the FBI.” He turned and left the room.

Ten minutes later he was in the office of his supervisor, and Roberts seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.

“Hello, Jim. Have a seat.” He indicated the chair in front of his desk. Roberts had a squeeze ball, which he passed from hand to hand. “What can I do for you today?”

Sharon sat down. “Walthrop’s setup worked. We identified the company that’s been messing with the fiber near Philadelphia.”

“What are they up to?”

“I can’t say for sure, but someone from within this company–ScanDat–has managed to tap into the net, into the underlying physical infrastructure.”

“Like a wire tap?” asked Roberts, working the squeeze ball.

“Probably more sophisticated.”

Roberts smiled. “I thought we were the only ones authorized to do stuff like that.”

“We don’t have the capability to do what they’re doing.”

Roberts stopped working the squeeze ball, setting it on the desk in front of him. “Maybe it’s NSA.”

“This doesn’t feel like an NSA operation. Of course, we won’t know until we visit ScanDat.”

“So what do you want to do, Jim?”

“Raid ScanDat, see what they’re up to.” He expected Roberts to give him a hard time. Instead he seemed eager to accommodate him.

“Okay. What exactly do you want to look for?”

Sharon hadn’t expected Roberts to give him carte Blanche. “Anything related to the illegal use of the Internet. I know that’s a pretty broad net, but…”

“You got it. When do you want to do it?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

Roberts nodded. “You’ll have the paperwork by the end of the day.”

Sharon thanked Roberts and left to begin preparations. A company named ScanDat was in for an unpleasant wakeup.

The agency could not monitor the entire Internet. The vast network of switches, routers, and cable that constitutes the Net simply does not lend itself to scrutiny by any one entity. It’s too huge, too disparate, and too ubiquitous. The agency did not, however, need to do this. Even if they could, the resources required to process such large volumes of data would be unfathomable. Instead, they focused on the major fiber backbones, robust networks with high throughput. This provided a sufficient population for the statistical analysis required for a societal profile, and was more manageable in terms of hardware.

The key to absorbing even this amount of data in a timely fashion was the use of a single fiber bundle, located outside Philadelphia, through which all monitored activity was directed. Norbert had just completed a security check of this pipeline when Mason entered the computer center. Norbert had phoned him ten minutes earlier.

“What’s up?” asked Mason.

“We’ve got a situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

Norbert didn’t answer for a moment. He was intently focused on his display, and quickly typed in a command. “Sorry.” Now he swung his chair around and faced Mason. “I was monitoring the data stream, standard security sweep, when I saw it.”

“Yes?” Mason conveyed his impatience with his expression.

“There’s a pair of flies in the ointment,” said Norbert.

“Am I supposed to guess what that means?”

Norbert sensed that Mason was in a bad mood, and came straight to the point. “Remember how Slocum was using his palmtop to access the stream?” Mason nodded. “Well, I saw an indication that he was at it again.”

“Not him. He’s here.”

This surprised Norbert. He hadn’t been told. “Then someone he works with. Maybe. But they didn’t do a very good job of covering their tracks.”

“You were able to trace them?”

“Yes,” said Norbert. “But there’s something even more interesting. There was a second signal, much fainter. Someone else was in the stream, and they were playing cat and mouse with the first signal. Guess who the fainter signal belongs to?”

“Norbert…”

“It came from one of the NIPC regional data centers,” Norbert quickly blurted.

“The National Infrastructure Protection Center. FBI?”

Norbert slowly nodded. “Yeah. They’ve reorganized into small data centers. I’ve seen them sniffing around before, but never this close, and certainly never in our data stream.”

“Who were the others?”

“Some company,” said Norbert. He looked at his notes. “ScanDat. The Bureau’s going to raid them.” Norbert added, “I wanted to follow up, to see why they were tracking ScanDat. I didn’t find that out, but they did apply for a warrant to search the company.”

“And it was granted?” asked Mason.

“Seems like it, but of course, I don’t have x-ray vision.”

“Careful.”

“Sorry.”

Mason seemed to soften. “Are we at risk of exposure?”

Norbert hesitated before giving a qualified response. “Not right now, but if the Bureau starts poking around, we do have certain vulnerabilities.”

“Is there anything we can do to minimize these–vulnerabilities?” Mason sat down in the chair next to Norbert.

“Not while the FBI is watching. We have a lot of equipment in place that’s getting a bit dated, but installing upgrades is noisy.”

“And you think the FBI would pick up on it?”

“Yes, I do.”

Mason swiveled in his chair, taking in the wide array of equipment in the computer center. He fixated for a moment on a panel with a series of miniature yellow and green lights. It reminded him of his childhood house, decorated for Christmas. He pushed the thought away. “What would it take to temporarily blind the FBI?”

“Blind them? What do you mean?”

“You know–make it so they can’t detect it if we install the equipment upgrades you mentioned.”

“That’s a tough one. I don’t know all the details of their Internet surveillance methods, but I think we’d have to at least cripple the regional data center that I observed today.”

“Could you do that?” asked Mason.

“Theoretically, yes, but only for a short time. They would certainly have backup and recovery procedures in place.”

“How long would they have to be down?”

Norbert thought for a moment. “Half a day. Maybe not quite that long. It’s when we actually turn on the new devices that we’re most vulnerable to detection.”

Mason saw that Norbert was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. We could technically do what you’re asking. Probably. But wouldn’t that be a violation of agency policy?”

Mason crossed his legs, leaned back, and clasped his hands behind his head. “The thing is, Norbert, there’s something of a conflict in our policy. Of course we’re not supposed to cause damage to agencies like the FBI, but we ourselves also have to survive. Given that the FBI is uncomfortably close to uncovering our operations, I don’t see that we have much choice.”

“We could keep things as they are; there is no imminent danger.”

Mason nodded politically. “True enough. But is it fair to say that the FBI’s capabilities will only improve?”

“I would imagine so. Of course.”

Mason smiled. “Then logically our job is easier if we start sooner.”

“Yes, but…”

“Seems cut and dried to me,” said Mason.

Norbert knew when it was time to stop arguing. He said nothing further. Mason uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and looked the younger man directly in the eye.

“Do it.”

“Do it?” said Norbert.

“Yes. Write a program, or whatever it takes, to bring down the FBI data center long enough for us to install the equipment you mentioned.”

“I said it could be done, but it’s not an easy task.”

“Another thing,” said Mason, ignoring his objection. “I want you to write it so that only I can activate it, and all source code is to be transferred to my secure account. Once it works.”

“It will take some time.”

“This has top priority.”

“Yes, sir. But…”

“No buts. Just do it. And don’t discuss this with anyone.”

Norbert slowly nodded, and turned back to his monitor as Mason left the room. 

Katherine happened to be walking past the window overlooking the ScanDat parking lot when the sedans from the FBI pulled up. She stopped and watched as half a dozen men and women, smartly dressed, made their way into the building. She wondered who they were.

“Hey, Katherine.” Boyd called out to her as she turned away from the window.

“Yeah, Boyd, what’s up?”

“I have the test sequencing for the third series nearly complete. Can you be ready by the end of the day?”

“I think so. Stanley was saying that…”

She was interrupted by the sound of the main doors opening, followed by the surge into their office of the group she had seen a minute earlier. She suddenly realized what was happening, and hurried to Stanley’s cubicle.

“Stanley! We’ve got to get out of here!”

“Why? What are you talking about?”

“The agency–Slocum’s people–they’re here!” She kept her voice to a whisper, but it was a panicked whisper.

“That’s crazy. How could they be here?” He looked over the top of his cubicle, and could see Klugman’s office filled with unrecognized people. He looked at Katherine. “How?”

She considered, and then snapped her fingers. “The palm unit! When we used it they must have traced it back here. We have to leave. Now.”

Stanley hesitated for only a moment. The visitors were milling about Klugman’s office, getting ready to do–what? Stanley and Katherine started for the rear exit.

“Wait, my briefcase.” Stanley turned back.

“No time!”

“The palmtop’s in it!” He ducked down and half crawled to the spot under his desk where he had stuffed his case, snagged it on some wires, but then pulled it clear and hurried back to Katherine.

They weaved their way through the cubicle maze that led to escape, like rats surviving yet another test. One of the agents thought he heard something, and looked in the direction of the rear door. By then it had already closed, and Stanley and Katherine were gone.

“Spread out. We need to access each one of these workstations, then hit the big iron.” Agent Sharon was in his element, surrounded by computers, clues buried beneath layers of technology. His people would discover what had gone on here; then he would either shut ScanDat down, or leverage what he found to get to those higher on the food chain.

One of the agents stood near Stanley’s deserted cubicle, Boyd right next to him. “Hey, Boss. Where are the two other employees that were supposed to be here?”

Sharon looked at Boyd. “Well?”

“I don’t know. They were here a minute ago.”

Sharon looked over the sea of cubicles, but didn’t see anyone else. “Check the bathrooms and the stairs. I want to talk to everyone.” 

Stanley and Katherine made it out of the building and to their cars without being seen. They left at once, meeting up at a gas station a few minutes later.

“We can’t go back to the apartment. If they found us at work, they’ll find the apartment,” said Katherine.

Stanley wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Katherine. If they knew about Slocum’s apartment they would have been there already. They only knew about work because of the download, and when they check our home addresses, they won’t find anything about Slocum’s apartment.”

“Should we risk a quick stop at the apartment, then find another place to stay?”

“We shouldn’t have to be on the run, Katherine. We aren’t criminals.”

“But you saw the way they brushed past Klugman. From what Slocum said, these guys play hardball.”

“Slocum is tough,” said Stanley. “And they got him somehow.”

It was a sobering thought. If Slocum, an experienced implementer, familiar with the ways of the agency, had been captured, how much chance did they stand?

“So what do we do?” asked Katherine.

Stanley studied the passing traffic in silence. Suddenly he turned to Katherine. “Let’s pick Bobby up from school and get out of town for a couple days.”

“What about Slocum? And what about work?”

“We can’t go back to work. We got away this time, but you can be sure they’ll have made up some story to tell Klugman. He’d probably have us arrested as soon as we walked in the door.”

“There’s one other thing,” said Katherine. “If they showed up because they know we figured out how to use Slocum’s palmtop to access their communications, they must consider us a serious threat.”

Stanley smiled. “Which means we’re on the right track.”

“But,” said Katherine, “it also makes us a target, and the only way we’ll be safe is to stay out of sight.” She noticed that Stanley was staring at her. “What?”

“Two things,” he said. “You’re beautiful, and I never should have involved you in this.”

“You couldn’t have kept me away. And thank you.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. He recoiled, bending over as he stepped away. “You’re ticklish!” She really let him have it then, but the moment quickly passed.

“Okay, okay, I give up. Let’s stop by the apartment for our things, then we can pick up Bobby.”

“And after that?”

“I have an idea, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll go first, you follow me.”

They hurried to their cars. Twenty minutes later they were back at the apartment, which was empty, just as when they left it earlier.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here,” said Katherine.

“Let’s just get our stuff and get out.” Stanley quickly gathered up his and Bobby’s belongings, placing them in the trunk of his car.

Katherine came down the apartment steps a minute later. “Should we take two cars, or one?” she asked.

“I think for now we should bring both. We can always switch to one or the other later.”

“Fine. Let’s go get Bobby.” 

Bobby’s after school program was little more than a glorified babysitting service for working parents. Forty or so children played various games, talked, or ran around, supervised by one teacher’s aide. The aide was always happy to see parents show up for their kids, as the bedlam lessened with each departing youngster.

Security was lax, and when the impeccably dressed middle-aged woman walked in and asked for Bobby Whipple, it raised no alarm. She explained to Bobby that she worked with his father at ScanDat and that he had asked her to pick him up and bring him back to the office. It made sense. Ten-year-olds are not very sophisticated, and the simple explanation and mention of his father’s company defused whatever suspicion he might have felt. Bobby nodded and accepted her outstretched hand. The woman glanced around at the other children, and at the aide.