The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (18 page)

Jack sat in his pajamas. The heat of the laptop on his thighs had warmed things up downstairs a little too much for his liking. Next to him, Celeste was similarly clothed, but without the laptop threatening to burn a hole in her privates. He looked over, she smiled at him and gestured with her head at the screen. The message was clear—get on with it.

Jack was still uneasy about the events from the previous day. It had taken all his self-control not to crack open the motel minibar and neck a few beers to ease his nerves. He sensed that Celeste felt the same, but was conscious of encouraging his continued sobriety: she’d opened the fridge, looked longingly at the booze, then settled on a juice.

He sighed and leaned back on the sofa. Neither of them had slept the previous night, too wound up from the events at the house. Now, in the early hours of the morning, he resumed searching through the documents on the USB. The run-in with the Eastern European man was all the confirmation he needed that they were on the right track. They’d speculated on what could be on the USB during the drive back to the motel. They’d expected secret plans to bring down the government or the names and locations of dozens of master criminals. They’d come up with all sorts of wacky ideas, but the reality had been more disappointing than that.

He looked back at the screen and clicked on the next set of documents. It was a record of receipts with dates, items from a shopping list and a receipt code next to each—a series of letters and numbers. Another document was a budget, listing some fairly random items and a cost. Another was a copy of a receipt for a child’s toy.

Celeste sighed. “This is all useless.”

Jack had to concede she was right. He was interested in none of them. “Yeah, none of this makes nearly getting kidnapped worth it.”

Celeste laughed. “A shopping list doesn’t cut it. I’m buying a gun tomorrow, by the way.”

Jack snorted and looked up at her. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“A big one.” She smiled, but he wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. “A shiny one.”

“Actually, it’s a stupid idea.”

She frowned. “I don’t care, there’s no way I’m ever going to feel like that again.”

Jack sighed. “You know, research shows that pulling a gun in a situation like that makes it more likely that you’ll end up dead?”

“Don’t care. What’ve I told you about facts?”

Jack laughed and turned back to the computer to scroll through the file names. He came to an .exe file and stopped. While he’d spent most of his life in peaceful, ignorant coexistence with technology, he knew that an .exe file made shit happen. He clicked the file and gasped at the same time as Celeste. They both leaned forward as a black box appeared on the screen, asking for a password.

Celeste punched his arm. “What’ve you done? Is that a virus or something?”

“Don’t think so, it does something, though. Shame we don’t know the password.”

Jack tried a few obvious combinations, but had no luck. Thankfully, the program didn’t appear to restrict the number of password tries; he knew he’d need a fair bit of luck to crack it. He was not looking forward to the flight between Wisconsin and New York, but at least it would give him something to do.

Celeste yawned. “I’m sleepy. What about one of the tech guys at the
Standard
? Or paying someone to do it?”

Jack looked at his watch. It was very late. Or, more accurately, very early. “Maybe, but I’d like to try to work it out first. There could be all sorts of funky stuff behind this password, or it could be completely innocuous. I’d rather we find out what we’ve got before we hand it over.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I get the feeling it’s something big.”

“Me too.” He handed the machine to her. “Keep trying?”

She nodded as he got to his feet, walked to the bathroom and closed the door. As he did his business, his mind wandered through the collection of documents on the USB—the budget, the grocery list, the receipt codes—it all felt like hundreds of pages of complete, meaningless gibberish.

As he was finishing up, he spotted the newspaper that Celeste had left on the floor. He read the date and something clicked. He flushed, washed his hands and rushed out of the bathroom. Celeste was mashing away at the keys and looking disinterested, trying to crack the password but having no more success than he’d had.

He flopped back on the sofa. “Hey, pull up that weird shopping list.”

She turned and looked at him. “Pomegranates? Baked custard tarts? What about it?”

“It had dates, even into the future. And items next to the dates. But how can you have a receipt code for something you’re buying in future? They’re passwords.”

He took the computer and looked at the shopping list, found the date and the particular shopping item for the day, then copied the receipt code. He opened the .exe file and the password box popped up again. Jack looked at Celeste and shrugged, then pasted in the code. The password box disappeared and a document browser appeared.

“Holy shit.” Jack’s eyes widened. “Seems like a lot of effort to hide some porn.”

Celeste laughed. “Must be more to it than that. Open one of them.”

Jack let out a hoot and clicked a random file. When it opened, another box appeared asking for another password. “Fucking hell, there’s multiple layers of encryption. There’s a meta password, then every file has individual protection. This is going to be a nightmare.”

Celeste stared at him. “What?”

“It means we need some help with this.” Jack sighed and ejected the USB. “We need to get it cracked, but it’ll take some smart tech heads to do it.”

***

Michelle smiled as she pointed the remote at the television and hit the mute button. The talking head who’d been summing up the war between China and Taiwan was silenced immediately, though the picture continued to shift between the studio and highlights of the war coverage.

Michelle had realized days ago that she was addicted to footage of the war. It had a potent placebo effect, letting her see how much China was bleeding as well as the growing strength of the US and its allies in the region. That didn’t mean she needed to love the reporters, most of whom annoyed her with their spoon-fed analysis.

The war was proceeding as well as she could have hoped. While China had bombed the crap out of Taiwan, they’d failed to mount a successful invasion. The US Navy and Air Force were duking it out with their Chinese counterparts, and both were more than capable of sea and air denial, but not of superiority.

This worked for Michelle. She was relying on a protracted US engagement that avoided the deployment of ground troops or nuclear weapons. At least until after the midterm election. After that, if the US won the day and China retreated from its claims over Taiwan, so much the better.

She was certain, deep down, that as long as the US didn’t suffer a disastrous loss, things would be okay. The right Congress would be elected, full of Michelle and her colleagues. The right messages would be broadcast to Americans. The US would prosper. The decay that had set in would be reversed.

The country could look to the future in the knowledge that its power was unchallenged.

Her power would be similarly unchallenged.

Events closer to home weren’t progressing as well. After the news that the hit team she’d sent after Chen were dead, she’d received a call from Andrei Shadd. He’d had a pair of snoops bailed up in Chen’s house—more than likely it had included Michelle’s mystery lover—but they’d gotten away. Her favorite vase hadn’t survived the news.

She sighed, picked up her phone and dialed. She waited through the series of strange sounds that signified an encrypted line, then the line started to ring.

“Hello, Peter’s Dry Cleaning.” Erik Shadd played the role well. “Make sure you ask me about our five shirts for five dollars special. How can I help you today?”

“It’s an encrypted line, Erik.” Michelle had little patience, even as far as the Shadd brothers’ cover was concerned. “I need you to come to my office and escort me tonight.”

Erik didn’t hesitate. “Where to?”

“An event for the campaign.”

“No problem.”

Michelle leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. Her plans would unravel if she didn’t get matters closer to home under control. Chen had slipped the net, had a head start and was probably halfway to Asia. In addition, the mystery man was turning into a major annoyance, popping up in inconvenient places. That was more manageable.

“And Erik?” She picked up the remote and turned the television off. “I need every asset looking for that man. If he sticks his head above the parapet, I want it shot off.”

“I’ll take care of it and see you tonight.”

The line went dead.

Michelle stood and walked to the large bay windows. The view of the Mall was commanding, and she never got tired of it. As she locked her hands together and stretched them over her head, she heard several vertebrae in her back pop. She’d been working too much.

She looked at the Capitol building, off in the distance. The good judgment of the American people willing, she and other Foundation candidates would take their place in the Congress within a few months. Once there, she’d join a small group already in Congress and loyal to the Foundation. Others still would be bribed or blackmailed.

She’d have a great number of votes. She’d have power.

She walked to her desk, picked up the phone again and dialed.

“Hi, Michelle.” Sarah McDowell clearly recognized the number.

“Hi, Sarah, how’re things?”

“Bad. Dad isn’t any better, the suitors won’t fuck off, and I still have no interest in the company, no matter how much the board and my dad’s advisors tell me I need to.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Sarah, I’m trying.”

Sarah hesitated on the other end of the line. “I didn’t mean to criticize you! You’ve been fantastic through the whole thing. It’s all the other rent seekers that I hate.”

She had her, Michelle realized then. She’d cultivated the relationship with Sarah McDowell to the point where she was now the girl’s trusted friend and sounding board, particularly on matters concerning the company.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Sarah. The UK Parliamentary inquiry handed down its findings today. I’d expect a bit of blowback once the PM speaks.”

Sarah sighed loudly but didn’t answer. Michelle smiled and readied herself for an hour or so of gossip.

Some things were out of hand, but others were well under control.

***

Jack cursed as he stepped into the full-body scanner, the only way past security and into the passenger terminal at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. He’d had his fill of airports lately, yet he had little choice but to wait as some security guard looked at an X-ray of his junk. After a moment, the TSA official waved him through. He scowled at Celeste, who’d already passed security and was waiting for him.

“Every fucking time. It’s like I’ve got a tattoo on my head saying terrorist or something.”

She smiled. “Get over it, we’re through and we know your friend is here, so let’s go have a chat to him.”

“Right, come on then. Hickens won’t wait for us if we're late.”

After a bit of a sleep at the motel in Wisconsin, he’d called Peter and asked for help cracking the USB. Peter had called him back an hour or so later, with flights already booked for them to Washington via North Carolina, where he’d told them to meet up with a special friend at the airport. A special friend Jack hadn’t seen in over a year—Simon Hickens.

As they walked in silence through the terminal, past sleeping travelers and ads for Swiss watches and expensive clothing, he hoped Hickens might help them. He was one of the smartest tech guys in the world, and EMCorp had used him exhaustively over the years. He’d been caught up in some of the UK mess, but managed to stay out of the worst of the trouble. Most of all, Jack trusted him completely.

“Jack fucking Emery!”

Jack knew the voice instantly and turned around. Hickens had placed his bag on the ground and opened his arms wide.

Jack closed the gap between them and wrapped the smaller man in a bear hug. “How are you, Simon? Good to see you.”

Simon Hickens was the best hacker Jack knew, and the most difficult to work with. Despite having known him for a long while, he still had a lot of trouble understanding the surly thirty-something from Chelsea.

Hickens patted Jack on the back firmly, then backed out of the hug. “Good to see you too. Been too long. I was really sorry to hear about Erin, mate.”

Jack felt a stab of pain in his heart. “Thanks. She rated you a lot, Simon.”

Hickens laughed. “You’re a liar. She hated my guts.”

Jack shrugged. “Good to see you’re still on the job, anyway.”

“On the job? Not since this shit back home. Not a pound in it for an honest gent like myself. I’m having to spend more time in the States to find work. And who’s this, then?”

Jack felt a little possessive as he watched Hickens look Celeste up and down. His gaze lingered on all of Celeste’s curves, and she went red in response. Jack didn’t take it personally, since he’d seen Hickens do the same to plenty of other women over the past few decades.

“Eyes up here, Simon. She’s still got access to your HR department.”

Hickens looked at Jack and seemed offended. “But she’s packing heat, mate!”

Jack laughed and Celeste walked closer to them.