Palm Sunday (41 page)

“Don’t play games with me. You got careless, didn’t you?”

Norbert hesitated. “Maybe a little distracted. But I have to tell you, these guys are good.”

“Good? From what you’re telling me, they almost cooked our goose.”

“Yeah.” Norbert felt his face redden. “Anyway, I don’t know who’s responsible. The pulses of garbage are coming from the FBI, I think. But this other stuff…” He didn’t finish.

 “I don’t want to take any chances with this, Norbert. Find out who it was that breached our system.”

“That was going to be my next move,” said Norbert. “But they aren’t likely to stop their attacks. There’s a risk they could succeed next time.”

“Just find them.”

“Suppose I get their IP address. What then?”

“Like I said–no chances. We use our strongest weapon.”

For a moment Norbert wasn’t sure what he meant. Then it dawned on him. “Pascua?”

“Yes. Keep an outgoing portal open for my exclusive use. Call me when you have the target’s IP address.”

“It could be a while,” said Norbert.

“Let me know when the portal is activated.”

“I’ll take care of it right now.” 

“Agent Sharon, call for you.” Justin indicated that it was on line two.

Sharon went to an unused station and picked it up. “This is Agent Sharon.”

The voice on the other end was male, and husky, probably either from chain-smoking, or a cold. “This is Chief Reskowski. We picked up that gang for you.” There was more than a little sarcasm in the man’s voice.

“How many were there?” asked Sharon.

“Three; a man and two women. They didn’t seem very dangerous. No weapons or anything. Their biggest concern was that no one hurt them. You can have them whenever you want them.”

“Thanks, we’ll send someone down. What about the scene?”

“What about it? Seemed like a normal apartment house, and like I said, there were no weapons or anything.”

“You searched it?” asked Sharon.

“My men checked every room, peeked into the basement, looked under all the beds. We found three people.” The chief was getting irritated.

Sharon pressed him. “What about computer equipment?”

“What about it?”

“Was there any?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, there were a few pieces in one corner. Looked like a bunch of junk, though.”

“Is the house still secured?”

The chief sniffed. “Look. My men have better things to do than nurse a house all night. If you want your people to go over the place with a fine-toothed comb that’s fine. Get a warrant and have a ball.”

“Can you put a couple men on the house until my people get there?” asked Sharon.

“Fine. You have two hours.”

“Thanks.” Sharon hung up and dialed another number. The legal department said that he could get a warrant, but he would have to hurry if he wanted it in time to get to the apartment while the police were still there.

Before leaving he looked at Justin. “Any more activity in the data stream?”

“Nothing unusual. Just the healthy throbbing of normal Internet traffic.”

“That’s very poetic. Keep an eye out, though. I’m going to check out the apartment.”

“Could I tag along?” asked Justin. “I’d love to see what kind of setup they have.”

“Sure. We shouldn’t be gone too long.” He looked at the Professor. “Can you hang around a while? If I need you to do anything, I’ll call.”

“No problem. The rest of your staff is here, and the bad boys are in custody now.”

Sharon nodded his thanks, as did Justin, and the two left. Walthrop leaned back and placed his feet on the desk, hands clasped behind his head. He figured he might as well enjoy his few remaining hours as a G-Man. 

They sat in two separate cells. Katherine and Kayoko were together in one, while Stanley was alone in another. They were close enough to be able to talk without being overheard.

“What happens now?” asked Katherine.

Stanley leaned towards the bars. “We have to assume that the agency will try to get their hands on us. Maybe it’s time to tell our story.”

“No one would believe us,” said Kayoko, looking around nervously. “Besides, sooner or later they’re going to realize that I was involved in that so-called accident near the agency. They were calling it a homicide on television.”

“It hasn’t been on the news recently,” said Katherine. “Maybe they won’t make the connection.”

Kayoko simply looked away. She knew the agency better than that. The fabricated story was exactly what they would use.

“Let’s at least let’s get our stories straight,” said Stanley.

“We aren’t in control here,” said Kayoko. “Besides, what could we say that would matter?”

“If our story sounds credible, they’ll have to take time to check it out.”

Kayoko looked at Stanley in disbelief. “Where have you been lately? There won’t be any investigation. No one is going to believe a story about a secret agency that taps into the Internet to create a societal profile. Especially not coming from accused murderers.”

“Whoever sent out those pulses would believe it,” said Katherine.

Kayoko shook her head. “You yourself weren’t certain what that was. Don’t you see? The raid on the apartment, our arrest, and now the awaited arrival for someone to retrieve us; it has all the earmarks of an agency operation. It’s the same thing they did to Slocum.”

Stanley leaned back against the wall. Kayoko was right. Whoever came for them, they wouldn’t be from legitimate law enforcement. It would be the agency’s people, and their instructions would be to bring them in.

“That’s it, then,” he said. “These local cops have their orders, which they certainly consider above reproach. They would have been warned to expect illogical ranting from us.”

This time no one disagreed, and the cold reality of what lay ahead only served to dampen an already somber mood. 

In a small, coffin-like space, three feet below the floor of the basement, Slocum and Bobby waited in the darkness. When he had prepared the secret storage space a year earlier, Slocum had envisioned using it as a last ditch hideout from any of several individuals who might want to do him harm. He never dreamed that he would end up using it to protect a palmtop and a ten-year-old boy. He could feel Bobby shaking, and repeatedly whispered that everything would be okay.

When sufficient time had passed, he carefully worked the lever that moved the false floor to the side. The basement seemed well lit in comparison to the inky blackness from which they emerged.

“Come on, Bobby.” They struggled to their feet, and Slocum motioned for Bobby to be still while he listened for sounds from the apartment above. All seemed quiet.

With Bobby right behind him, Slocum slowly climbed the steep wooden stairs that led out of the basement. He paused at the top, and hearing no sounds, cautiously opened the basement door.

Everyone was gone. He looked out from several windows, noting that even the police had left. This he found strange, since all of the computer equipment remained.

“Bobby, I need you to stay calm. If I tell you to do something, don’t question me–just do it. I want to get your father and the others back, but first we need to get out of here. Understand?”

Bobby nodded, and took Slocum’s hand. They walked out the side door, pulling it closed as they left. It was dark, and Slocum quickly led Bobby to Katherine’s car, and motioned for him to get in. They soon disappeared around the corner.

A few minutes later the police cruiser assigned to watch the house arrived and took up position across the street. The officers settled in for their two-hour wait.

“Should we check the grounds?” asked one of the cops.

“Nah. The chief said to watch it, not search it.” He took out two doughnuts, giving one to his partner, who handed him a coffee in return.

“Tough job.”

“Somebody’s got to do it.” 

Charles Mason could be very patient; he was also a quick study. The video of Norbert’s explanation of Pascua was a great asset in his current undertaking. He had watched certain portions more than a dozen times, always referring back to his notes, and to the source code that Norbert had provided.

Mason wasn’t technically gifted; not like Norbert. But he could take a small amount of information and extrapolate the bigger picture in a very short time. Pascua was complex, no doubt, but Mason was only concerned with a very small part of it–the targeting mechanism.

If Pascua were launched, it would require several parameters to accomplish its mission. First, it would need the Internet address of the destination. This could be a range of addresses as well as a single target. Second, the degree of damage to be inflicted had to be indicated. Third, the activation date had to be selected. The program would reside on the infected computer in a state of dormancy until the activation date arrived. On that date and time, the program would come to life, attacking its host in accordance with the level of damage specified. Mason had all of the information necessary to accomplish what he had in mind, but the program had certain built-in safety protocols that limited his ability to implement it. The code behind those protocols had eluded him–until very recently.

Norbert had not gone into much detail about the protocols, and Mason hadn’t pressed him. He didn’t want to raise the young man’s suspicions. Everyone develops patterns, though, and this is especially true of programmers. It took some time, but Mason finally isolated the security protocols, and removed the limits that Norbert had imposed on IP ranges. The next challenge had come when Mason tried to recompile the code into an executable program. He had no idea how to do this, but knew it was the last step required before Pascua could actually be used. He enlisted the help of a junior programmer, who was only too happy to make points with the boss. He was told by Mason that there would be openings at a higher level soon, and people with talent who could keep their mouths shut would be in demand. The final hurdle was easily cleared. He placed a call to Norbert.

“Computer center,” answered Norbert.

“It’s Mason.”

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Any progress tracking down the intruder?”

“Not yet.” Norbert was slightly irritated. He had been keeping Mason posted every time there was a new development.

“How about my portal?”

“Yes, that’s ready. All you need is the IP address of the target, which I’m working on. Anything else?”

“Not really, although I would like to have a brief meeting with you to go over a couple things. Come up to my office in fifteen minutes, but knock before you come in. I may be with someone.”

“Sir, is this a good time? I really need to focus on what I’m doing.”

“Won’t take long, and it is important. Fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” As the line went dead, Norbert shook his head. Mason was starting to annoy him. 

When the knock at the door came, Mason was ready. He had been sitting with his finger poised over the Enter key, and now he pressed it. This input the last of the parameters required by Pascua, and sent it on its way. The portal to the data stream was already open, thanks to Norbert, and within seconds the program was replicating and distributing itself to the Internet address range specified by Mason.

He looked up from his console and called out. “Come in Norbert.”

The door opened and Norbert stuck his head in, quickly looking around the office. “I thought maybe someone else was in here.”

“No, son, it’s just you and me.” He gestured towards his couch. “Have a seat. And close the door behind you.”

Norbert thought that Mason was acting rather strangely, but did as he asked. “I really should get back to the lab.”

“Norbert, I’d like to hear your thoughts on some things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We don’t really get much opportunity to talk about things beyond the world of computers.”

“That keeps me pretty well occupied,” said Norbert.

“Yes. But aren’t there other things that interest you? Hobbies, or interests?”

“Of course I have other interests, but the agency is my life.” Norbert thought he was being taken to task for the recent near-fatal security breach.

“Did you ever wonder what life would be like without computers?” asked Mason, smiling.

“Sir?”

“Maybe you don’t remember. Yes, you might be too young. I can recall a time–a distant time, mind you–when things were so much simpler. I remember my father taking me fishing, family trips to the ocean, that sort of thing. There were no computers then, and everything was simpler.” He leaned forward, his eyes piercing. “Things were better.”

Norbert squirmed in his seat. “Computers certainly have changed things, but human nature is fairly constant. People can use machines for good or bad. It’s like anything else.”

Mason shook his head slowly from side to side. “Oh, my innocent, naive friend. You don’t see it, do you? Look what we’ve been doing here at the agency. We have violated people in the most insidious way. We’re guilty of electronic rape, Norbert, and we have to set things right.” He leaned forward again. “We have to set things back the way they were. We’re no better than him, or them, because they left me with him. They should have known.”

He was talking nonsense. Norbert had had enough. “I have to get back to the lab.” He slowly rose and moved towards the door.

“Sit down, Norbert.” When he didn’t respond, Mason reached into a desk drawer and produced a gun. He casually pointed it at Norbert and gestured towards the couch with his head. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this.”

Norbert was shocked. He sat back down. “Why are you doing this?”

Mason placed the gun on his desk, within easy reach. “You know, I think that deep down inside you understand what I’m talking about. A child deserves the protection of its parents. Betrayal is unthinkable.”

“Whatever you say.”

“It doesn’t really matter.” Mason looked at his watch. “We just need to spend some quality time together. Time to let things–resolve themselves.”

Norbert’s eyebrow shot up at the word ‘resolve’. It was a computer term, referring to how Internet addresses were located. “What have you done?” Norbert leaned forward as Mason looked at his watch again.