Rogue Code (40 page)

She decided to risk coffee while she gathered her thoughts. Taking a break was natural and the recognition she received gave her confidence. As she stepped into the break room she saw the light-haired man Richard holding a cup of coffee as he fingered creamer into it. He looked up at her, and his pale eyes were suddenly alive. “Well, hi, Miss SSG. How are you this fine morning?”

“Very good. How’s the coffee?”

“Average, I’d say, but around here that’s pretty good.”

She extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Vogle. You’re Richard, right?”

He eyed her evenly for a second, then said, “Good memory. I am indeed Richard. Nice to meet you, Kelly. How long are you going to be with us?”

“I’m not sure. A few hours now and then, I think. It’s really more a media cover-your-ass thing, you know?”

“Oh yeah. Not the first time. If you’re still around later, let’s have lunch.”

Daryl paused, then said, “Let’s do that.” She poured coffee as Iyers left the room. Now, why did I do that? she thought. He’d told her that he was an infrastructure specialist. She could learn a lot from him over lunch. Working on this only from logs could take more time than she had.

Anyway, she thought, he’s cute.

64

POUSADA VERDE NOVA

RUA MANUEL DE PAIVA

SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

10:34
A.M.

Jeff had been surprised he could sleep at all. When they’d arrived back at the hotel, it was nearly two in the morning. Frank had taken them the long way, ducking into alleys, hiding in darkened yards behind walls, watching, doubling back, making absolutely certain they’d not been followed. At first, there’d been sirens as police responded to the gunshots, but they’d never seen a police car, nor any suspicious vehicle on the prowl for them.

When they’d entered the room, Jeff said, “Why’d you call it off just before all the shooting happened?” There’d been no chance to ask sooner, and he knew it could wait.

“I got a message telling us we were in the wrong place.”

“Daryl?”

“Who else? Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m bushed and still have work to do.”

Frank had made two phone calls, taken a shower, then gone to bed. Jeff followed him with a shower, finding Frank already fast asleep as he stepped out of the bathroom. In bed he had trouble sleeping, the night scenes of the firefight running through his mind again and again. He’d never fired his weapon, never even thought about it, nor had he been frightened. There’d been no time.

But now, in bed, alone in the dark quiet, he realized how close a call it had been. Those had been automatic weapons fired at them. The shooters had been near enough for him to hear the bullets ricochet off the cobblestone and block walls, to see the sparks when a bullet struck something metallic. A gnawing anxiety replaced the adrenaline of the firefight and their flight, and it was this that Jeff struggled to suppress. As he thought about it, grateful neither of them had been struck, he slid into a restless slumber of flashing gunfire and distorted images.

*   *   *

Frank let him sleep, but when Jeff awoke, he said, “Join me on the patio for a late breakfast, okay?”

It was a lovely late morning outside. The hotel was just far enough removed from busy streets to be relatively quiet. Birds sang in the overgrown courtyard trees. Two couples sat at other tables, tourists most likely, Jeff decided.

The breakfast was a buffet, and he loaded up his plate, emphasizing the ripe fruit and fresh bread. The coffee was strong and bracing, just what he needed. He sat and ate while Frank chatted as if nothing had happened the night before.

“What about that message?” Jeff finally asked, when it was clear he needed to bring the subject up.

“Daryl said it was a trap. Get out. So that’s what we did. If it hadn’t been for that damn cat, they’d never have known we were there.”

“How’d she know?”

“She sent a message later. She’s identified the inside man as a guy named Marc Campos. She got access to his cell phone and traced his calls and e-mails to a company in Rio named Grupo Técnico. That’s our target.”

“Rio? How far away is that?”

“About a five-hour drive. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered. Just eat up.”

As Jeff was finishing they were joined by two nondescript men. Frank stood up with a broad grin. It was like old times for the three of them, lots of hugging and back pounding. The trimmer man of the pair turned to Jeff and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jeff,” the man said.

Frank laughed. “No, he’s Jeff.”

“Oh. Hi,” the trim man repeated, “I’m Carl. This is Oscar.”

Oscar shook his hand; then the two men joined them, passing on breakfast. “We had a bite earlier.”

From what Jeff had seen on the streets he would have taken the pair to be natives. Neither was over six feet tall. Carl was a spare man, looking very much like an accountant to Jeff, or a librarian. He wore glasses and had a retreating hairline. Oscar was only slightly bigger and, though he seemed in decent shape, had the same look—that of a man who spent a lot of time indoors. He had a thick head of dark hair just turning gray at the temples. Neither man was young any longer but neither looked especially old. There was a vagueness about them that made it difficult to pin them down in his mind.

“So how do you three know each other?” Jeff said. “Or can’t I ask?”

“Oh, you can ask,” Oscar said. “You’ll even get an answer, but why go there?”

“We know each other from the old days, Jeff,” Frank said. “I’m lucky they’re here.”

“It seems…”

“What?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know, too much of a coincidence.”

“See?” Frank said to the others. “I told you.”

The men laughed, then lapsed into small talk that only they understood. They rarely finished a sentence, yet the other two knew what was being said. It was clearly a reunion.

“Listen,” Frank said a bit later. “I need to talk with Jeff here. Why don’t you bring the car around and we’ll load up in, say, fifteen minutes. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“No problem,” Carl said as the pair stood up and left.

*   *   *

Back in the room, Jeff said, “Frank, I need to know who your two friends are.”

“Actually, Jeff, you don’t. The less you know, the better for all concerned. I know them, I trust them. Each of them has gone to considerable trouble to help us.”

“I’m serious. You’re going to have to tell me.”

“You can stay here.”

“I wish I could, but if we get access to Grupo Técnico’s computers, it’ll take both of us. I can’t stay out of it so this concerns me as much as you. Anyway, I’ve already been shot at. And I take it Carl and Oscar aren’t computer geeks?”

“No-o. Their specialties lie in other areas.”

Jeff sat on a chair, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and said, “Tell me.”

Frank was seated on the bed. “Jeff…”

“I’m serious. I won’t go into this blind. You wouldn’t in my place. Now, who are they?”

Frank sighed. “You’ve got a point there. I just wish you’d let this stay ‘need to know.’ That way if things go wrong, you aren’t in a position to hurt anyone.” Jeff said nothing. Frank continued, “You don’t need their real names. I’ve worked with each of them singly more than once. Very dicey situations each time, none of that
Mission: Impossible
crap they put in movies but dicey enough for the real world. They’re steady professionals, absolutely reliable. We worked as a three-man team on my last assignment before I gave up fieldwork. It lasted for six weeks, and when it was over, each of us spent some time in a hospital.”

“They’re Company?”

“Were, are. We didn’t discuss it. In their field, it’s not important as you never really leave. Anyway, Oscar’s working out of Rio now. Officially, he’s doing security with an oil company. I’m sure he’s doing Company work as well. It’s none of my business. He was in Curitiba when I called.”

“Why’s he here?”

Frank looked at Jeff in surprise. “He’s here because I told him I needed him here. I contacted him last night. He just got in. Jeff, I’ve been out of this line for a long time. I’m soft and I’m slow. You saw how things are. We need help.”

“You had me fooled last night.”

“That? That was nothing. Instinct. And we were very lucky.”

Jeff considered that, then said, “And Carl?”

“Carl’s from São Paulo. He’s definitely still with the Company; he runs some kind of front business here. I don’t know what he’s doing exactly but knowing him, it’s interesting.”

“They seem pretty nondescript.”

“They’re supposed to. They’ve spent decades getting that look down. Jeff, you need to trust me in this. I’ve already told you too much. But understand this: forget their looks. These guys are the best at what they do.”

“You think we need them?”

“Oh yes. I absolutely think we do.”

65

HARVEY’S DELI

CEDAR STREET

NEW YORK CITY

12:32
P.M.

Richard Iyers sat down and smiled across the table at Daryl. She was, without question, the loveliest woman he’d ever seen in person. He couldn’t believe his luck.

The restaurant was crowded but the manager knew Iyers as a regular and had shown him to a corner spot, as quiet as was possible this time of day in Manhattan. They ordered, then Iyers made small talk, mentioning a bit of his origins in Upstate New York, bouncing the conversation back to Daryl from time to time. She found him an attractive man with his ready smile and dancing eyes, hinting a bit at a mischievous nature that held a certain appeal. Since Jeff he was the first man she’d so much as given a second look, but she intended to do nothing about it. This was work, and she was operating under a false name. She turned the conversation away from their personal stories.

“Are you involved in this new IPO program?” she asked to get it started.

Iyers drew back a bit, giving a cockeyed smile that said he knew she’d just changed the subject. “Not directly. I monitored it when it was initially uploaded and have followed up on each update but my only concern is to confirm it doesn’t affect the trading platform in general. Not worried are you?”

Daryl shrugged. “All I know is what I read. There seems to be some skeptics.”

Iyers nodded. “I understand. The Exchange is an enormous operation. You know that. But we have so many checks, it’s amazing we’re able to respond to changing needs at all. I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt.”

“
The New York Times
thinks otherwise.”

“Those guys. What do they know? I knew the snitch who told them that stupid bot story. He’s an ass. He’s just trying to get even.”

“Still, it was malware that found its way in.”

“It was a harmless bot and never went past the public-facing servers. I wouldn’t be surprised if the snake didn’t insert it himself when he suspected he was getting laid off. That’s really the only way anything can get past our security. In my experience, it’s always the human factor. Our digital security is all but impenetrable.”

Their food arrived, and for a few minutes they said little. Daryl enjoyed good New York deli and wished she could focus more on her pastrami on rye. She looked around the noisy room. Why was it that nowhere else she’d ever been captured this mood? It was uniquely New York. It made San Francisco seem almost quaint. She looked back at Richard. How to go about this?

But before she could speak, Iyers said, “Kelly, I’ve really enjoyed this and I’m quite serious when I say I’d like to see more of you. But you should know that about six months ago I was one of two from the infrastructure team to attend a joint meeting with SSG. You’ll never guess who I sat next to. Yes, Kelly Vogle.” He smiled. “So who are you? FBI? SEC? Private?” His smile spread into a grin that said he didn’t care which.

Stunned, the only thought Daryl could summon was gratitude this wasn’t happening back in the IT offices with all the security. “Private,” she said at last with no attempt at evasion. What was the point? He had her. “I’m a colleague of Jeff Aiken and Frank Renkin. You know them?”

“Sure. I was always trying to get them to use my gym. So what’s your real name?” She shook her head lightly. “Okay. What’s this about? You think they were set up?”

“They were framed without question.”

“I liked them. And I researched Jeff. He’s all right. I thought this whole thing was funny, you know? And the SEC have been assholes about it, accusing everyone. Some very hardworking, dedicated people are now under suspicion.” He smiled. “I’m probably one of them.”

“They were too close. I think they were set up by someone working at the Exchange, someone who wanted to get them out of the way.”

“Too close to what?”

Daryl drew a breath. Here goes. She told Iyers what Jeff and Frank had discovered, malware concealed by a rootkit within the trading platform code. “There’s an ongoing operation,” she continued. “It’s taking money out of the system. That’s what they uncovered.”

“You’re telling me they penetrated to the trading engines?”

“Yes, absolutely. They had the run of the place.”

“I find that very hard to accept. We’ve seen no sign at all. Not of any attempt, definitely not of anyone mucking around in there.”

“They are very good.”

“And they say they found a rootkit there? It can’t be done,” Iyers said. “There are too many safeguards.”

“Well, take my word for it, it’s there. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen it? You’ve been in the trading software?” She just gave him a look in reply. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. But you can’t take money out of the Exchange without getting caught. It just isn’t possible. Everything is tracked, and the automated systems call any anomaly to our attention.”

“That may be but the looting takes place with a high-frequency algo that watches for bids and offers on a set of stocks at specific prices and puts itself at the front of the queue, taking a percentage of those trades. The accounts the trades go into route the money offshore. Except for working out of the Exchange trading platform it doesn’t touch what is going on there. The theft takes place at the moment of the trade and is detectable only by the trading partners who are watching bids and orders at nanosecond granularity. If the amounts are small enough, I doubt they can even notice. If they do, it just looks like the buy came in lower than it first looked when the deal was approved.”