Rogue Code (25 page)

WEST 109TH STREET

MANHATTAN VALLEY

NEW YORK CITY

3:26
P.M.

Frank let himself into the small hotel room quietly, not sure if Jeff was sleeping. Instead, he found Jeff hunched over his laptop at the room’s desk, deep in thought. Frank set his paper sack down and sat in the room’s only chair.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“I’ve made some progress I think. What’s in the bag?”

“Bourbon. I couldn’t remember if you were a Scotch man or not, but I drink Bourbon so you can either share or get your own.”

“Bourbon’s fine.”

Frank retrieved two glasses from the bathroom, unwrapped them from their plastic cover, then filled them halfway with amber liquid. “Here you go.” They both took a sip. “So what have you got?”

“I think I’ve locked in what the malware does. It’s pretty sophisticated. You’re the expert on Wall Street, since unlike me, you’ve actually read a book so maybe it will make more sense to you. It looks like a trading algorithm programmed to hunt down certain traders and specific situations. When it finds them with a transaction matching the algo’s parameters taking place, it rides it in, bypasses the Exchange’s safeguards, and inserts itself at the head of the trading queue. It’s a high-frequency trader that can always beat everyone to the front of the line.”

“Like cutting in at the movies huh.”

“Exactly. Only in this case, there are only so many tickets available at a preferred price. The algos suck that up. In effect, they drive up the price by taking the ready action, then dump, and repeat. They’ve held some of these trades hostage in the Exchange’s computers for minutes while they pump and dump.”

“How much?”

“Well, in terms of percentages, it’s taking up to five percent of a trade, though usually less. Depending on the size it’s a lot of money. I have found instances where it appears to have taken substantially more. I haven’t figured out why those are treated differently.”

“And the Exchange’s IT department doesn’t know about it?”

“Not from what I can see. They’ve done nothing to stop it.”

“So the code is undetected and in operation.”

“Yes, and hidden within the rootkit.”

“That suggests to me someone with intimate knowledge of the Exchange’s code.” Jeff nodded agreement. Frank took a sip, then lowered his glass. “When did it start?”

“There’s no way to tell so far. A few months, a year, perhaps more.”

“Even if it’s just a few months, that’s a long time to operate in the heart of the New York Stock Exchange without being spotted.”

“It is.”

“Is it really that clever or are they just not very good at what they do?”

“It’s clever, obviously. As for the rest … complacent is likely the word for it.” He paused. “It’s possible whoever is responsible for the type of security that would usually detect the malware is in on the action.”

“Any clues?”

“No. Just something we should keep in mind.”

“Any luck finding who planted it?”

“No, I’ve been working to figure it out. The code we’ve got in the engine has detected and copied the code out of our cloud server so whoever is doing this is active. We should be able to follow the files back to where they entered the Exchange and once we have a physical location we can get names.”

“The other approach, I take it is—”

“—follow the money,” the men said in unison.

“That will take a lot of time,” Frank said. “Weeks, at the least.”

“Yeah, and finding an end deposit is getting tougher every year. Do we have that much time?”

Frank shook his head. “In theory we do but like I’ve said already, the longer we’re in the crosshairs, the harder it’s going to be to get out. And this Alshon’s going to think any perp we come up with is a fall guy. That’s especially true since we’ll be relying on computer records and trails. They can be made to point most anywhere.”

Jeff nodded. “What we need is to catch one of the bad guys in the know and get him to talk.”

“Good luck with that.” Frank set his cup down and refilled it, gesturing to Jeff who held out his own. As he poured, Frank said, “Still, not bad for a guy who was just whacked on the head. We’ve got help in town now too.”

Jeff took another sip. “How is she?”

“Daryl looks fantastic, what’d you expect? I can’t believe you let her get away.”

“I told you about it.”

“You told me but you didn’t convince me. She’s here, Jeff. When you’ve got some time for your personal life, you should give that serious thought. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have flown across the country.”

Jeff had already thought about that. “Does she believe us?”

Frank laughed. “What? You’re having doubts? Of course she believes us. In fact, she’s pretty pissed off. She’s staying in midtown. I gave her access to the backdoors, and she’s likely hard at work by now, trying to trace these guys.”

“That’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Yep, they will stay as far from it as they can. Even if it turns out they’re on the inside like we think, they’ll have routed their work in such a way as to not point at them. As for the money, you can bet it’s scattered far and wide. Maybe Daryl should work tracing the dough while you and I work on tracing its operation and finding a perp.”

“Sounds good.”

Frank opened his laptop and sent Daryl a message. “Want me to say anything from you?”

“Just thank her for helping.”

“Okay, lover boy. That should melt her heart.”

Jeff turned back to his computer but found he could no longer concentrate. He finished the bourbon, then poured more. Daryl. He was surprised to learn that she’d flown here, mildly irritated at the thought he might see her again. But when the reality set in, not just of his precarious situation, but that she’d cared enough to come, he found he was looking forward to seeing her.

The more he thought about their breakup, his reasons for it, the shallower they seemed. He wondered if the real problem had been that she wasn’t conforming to what he wanted. She’d stayed the person he’d always known. If he really wanted a lasting relationship with her, he should have waited. Maybe he just had been looking for a reason to end it, to find one more reason to crawl back into his emotional shell. Because once she left, that’s exactly what he did.

37

MACATUBA

SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

4:41
P.M.

Victor Bandeira settled into his patio chair and laid the Cuban Robusto onto its slot on the ashtray. He took a sip of strong black coffee and looked across the expanse of his estate toward the virgin cluster of trees from which the stream emerged. The afternoon sun caught the clear water precisely and the effect was as if diamonds danced on the surface.

Sonia was still in the bedroom. When he’d finished with her, she lay there unmoving, softly weeping as he took his shower, humming to himself. Once his energy was recovered, he was considering having another go at her.

He’d found the entire experience depressing, though. She was such a child, and it had all been so easy. He’d known from the first time she’d been with another man, and now had made it clear to her that she was his and his alone. Women thought they were so clever about such things, but he’d always found it to be the opposite. He was sensitive to any change in their attentiveness or heightened passion, as both were signs. Women thought such compensation masked their infidelity, when in fact it only confirmed it.

Still, depressing as it had been, overall, the first moments of surprise and possession had been exhilarating. Unfortunately, he’d not be able to duplicate the experience—at least he could think of no way now. He had to be careful. If he crushed all life from her, he’d have a woman who was little better than a whore in his bed. He’d had enough of that when he was a young man.

Bandeira wondered if she’d tell her father. If she did, that could prove awkward. Carlos was at heart a weak man so there was that. But more significantly he was a man who needed Bandeira desperately. He’d managed the family bank too conservatively for too long and reduced it to a near state of bankruptcy. If Bandeira hadn’t come along when he did, there’d be no more Banco do Novo Brasil. Perhaps it didn’t matter if he knew. It would be amusing to see how he responded.

Bandeira sighed and picked up his cigar, suddenly angry with himself. When would he be man enough to give up such games? This was all nonsense. It was nonsense to let himself get distracted by that
puta
on his bed, nonsense to have bedded the daughter of a man important to his business, nonsense to have taken his pleasure with her as he had earlier. He mocked his predecessor, the
chefe
before him, both in his thoughts and in comments to his bosses, but he was no less indiscreet himself. These were all needless risks, and in the end, there was absolutely no way to predict the behavior of an outraged Brazilian father, especially one who had been made to look small at more than one board meeting.

Just then, Jorge César approached. Bandeira gestured for his head of security to come near, then left him standing as was his custom with underlings. “Jorge,” Bandeira said, “we have a problem in New York. Two Americans have been making trouble for our financial enterprise. You know of this?”

“
Sim, Chefe
.
Casas de Férias.”

“One of our men in New York took it on himself to attack the leader of these two and put him into a hospital. I did not want this as it might call attention to what we are doing, but he did it anyway.”

“Should I contact someone in New York?”

“No, no. It’s too late for that. We will take care of him later, after I no longer need him.” Bandeira suppressed a fresh wave of anger. Matters should never have come to this. “No, I spoke to Abílio and have instructed that he leave a trail to lure the two men interfering with Casas de Férias to come to Brazil. You can take care of them here on our own turf.”

César nodded. “When will the two men arrive?”

“I’m not sure but soon.”

“Where will they go?”

“You remember the Mooca warehouse?” It had been a drug distribution center for a time. Lately it was unused. It was isolated, ideal for this purpose. “You have time to set up the ambush. Abílio has sent us their names and photographs.”

César nodded. “And if they don’t come?”

“That is possible, yes. If they stay in New York, you will have someone there take care of them, though I’d rather not. But I think they will come. The bait is nice and juicy.”

“I will see to it at once and will use my best men. There will be no problems.”

“I want them to vanish, you understand? It must appear they dropped off the face of the earth.”

“As you wish.”

Bandeira discussed other business with César, then sent him on his way. He was finishing his cigar and was considering a drink when he heard a voice calling for him from the bedroom. He rose and walked to the open sliding door. “What is it?” His voice was stern.

“I’m lonely,” Sonia said.

Bandeira was momentarily startled. What was this? What game was she playing?

“Come to bed, my love. Please.”

Bandeira moved closer, testing the situation. Then, satisfied at this unexpected turn he moved to the side of the bed and stood there. “What are you talking about?”

“Come to bed. I’m sorry, please forgive me. I was weak. It won’t happen again.” Sonia moved and the sheet slipped from her body. There was bruising there, but it only heightened his excitement. “Just don’t be so rough this time.” Then she smiled coyly. “Unless you think I need to be punished more.”

38

MONTAGUE STREET

BROOKLYN HEIGHTS

NEW YORK CITY

10:23
P.M.

Marc Campos exited the subway tunnel, stopped at the top of the stairs, and looked back as casually as he could manage. No one was following him from what he could see. He turned left and walked at a steady pace, stopping once two blocks later to tie his shoe, another time to pretend he was confused about where he was. Still no one.

And that was as it should be. There was no reason for the SEC to suspect him. He’d been careful, more careful than Richard Iyers. As he resumed his way, he put his thoughts to that particular problem. Just what was he to do? The man was out of control, gone rogue. He’d killed one man without permission, tried to kill another on his own. He was rash and he would be caught soon, for something. He knew too much, guessed too much, and had done too much. Iyers could tie Campos to one murder and another attempted murder. Never mind that Campos had nothing to do with either of them, the way American law worked, he’d learned, whatever Iyers did was the same as if Campos himself had done it. And when Iyers was arrested, as Campos was certain he would be at some point, he’d roll over in about five seconds.

I should have seen it coming, Campos thought bitterly. That night he’d pitched Casas de Férias to Iyers he’d seen the sudden light in the man’s pale eyes. It had brightly flamed for several seconds and when it eased, Iyers had become animated, more aggressive than Campos had ever seen him.

Campos had already been criticized for hiring him in the first place. Bandeira had chastised him directly when he’d learned about the use of a rootkit planted within the core code. What were the odds the one code writer with critical access he’d selected would turn out to be a psychopath? If anything else went wrong, Campos had to be concerned about just how much goodwill was left with his boss. That, he thought, will depend on just how badly things go. And with this rush to expand Casas de Férias and exploit Carnaval the chances of a disaster were more likely than they’d otherwise be. He had a sinking feeling about what lay ahead.

For one, NYSE Euronext was utilizing a new program for the Toptical IPO launch and there were always risks associated with that. For another, the high-frequency traders were going to be all over the IPO. They’d made a bundle on Facebook despite all the snafus, did very well indeed on Twitter, and were looking to score big again on this one. While this latest IPO was a golden opportunity for Carnaval it meant issues beyond their control could go wrong, disastrously so.