Firewall (18 page)

As the front window slid down, I was treated to a very pleasant but businesslike smile. "Get in the back of the vehicle quickly, please."

She added something in Finnish to Spike, and he shook his head back to her as we climbed into the rear seats with our bags. The vehicle was cold; she must have been waiting for us without the engine running or the heater on.

"Please sit well down in your seats and keep away from the windows."

Tom looked at me for an explanation. I shrugged. "Later, mate."

I turned back to face the windshield and saw Liv watching me in the rearview mirror. She smiled. "Welcome to Finland."

She then tilted her head to look at Tom. "My name is Liv. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Tom nodded, looking almost shy. She clearly had the same effect on him as she did on me. He turned to glance at his reflection in the blacked-out window, probably wishing he'd combed his hair.

We drove back out onto the road, turning left. The lights burned even brighter in the marketplace; it was getting quite dark.

"We don't have a lot of time," Liv said. "Events have moved on from our last conversation. You must carry out the task this Tuesday."

Another of their minor complications. I didn't believe her; I bet that this had always been the timing Val wanted, but instead of telling me in case it put me off, she'd just bullshit ted "I need to see the target," I said. "Two nights isn't a lot of time for preparation. You'll have to tell me all you know tonight, and I'll recce the place tomorrow."

"Yes, of course. I am also concerned that Tom should have enough time to break through the firewall so he can access the system."

Tom sat up, like a well-behaved child trying to please an adult.

"It'll be okay. Just show me what you've got."

"I will, Tom. Very soon."

There was a long pause as Tom sank back into the seat.

I looked at the road. "Where are we going now?"

"It's not far, by the lakes."

That wasn't much of a clue. The whole country was covered with the things.

The black and yellow florescent sign of a town's silhouette with a red line through it told me I was now out of Lahti. We hit a good quality single-lane road, lined at first with houses, their Christmas decorations glowing in the darkness, then giving way to trees and cuts through granite once again. Another sign told me that Mikkeli was now sixty-six miles away. We must still be heading north.

I kept my eyes on the odometer as we passed a succession of plastic mailboxes on posts, all neatly aligned by the roadside, the only sign that, somewhere deep in these forests, lay habitation.

The cloud cover and closeness of the trees made darkness fall on us completely, the reflection from the clean white snow almost doubling the effectiveness of the headlights.

The 4x4 Mere soon warmed up and Tom had his headphones on and eyes closed. I found myself trying to think of things to say to Liv, but small talk wasn't on her agenda.

There was far more checking of mirrors than was required for normal driving; she was carrying out anti surveillance That was why we'd met in the parking lot and come straight out before any connection could be made between the two vehicles. If anybody had been following us from the airport, they would naturally have assumed we were going into the hotel.

I could see her face illuminated by the dashboard as I sat up. "Liv?

Why all the fuss about telephones and pagers? And why the dead letter box?"

"The old ways are the best." She smiled. "A Sicilian once told me that to be sure there's a future, you must learn the lessons of the past. For centuries his organization had used messengers who would exchange information person to person. That way there was control of anything sensitive. But then they started operating in America and they got lazy. In the late fifties they started to use the telephone, and it was their downfall. If information is important and you want to keep it safe, you must communicate in person. That way you keep control."

I started to see signs for the E75 and Mikkeli, then the treeline disappeared and the highway came into view about 400 yards below me on the right. Lines of headlights moved in both directions, but we stayed on the old road and the trees returned to cut out the view. It would be easier to see if anyone was behind us.

Liv continued. "As to the rest of your question, we take all necessary precautions. Not only with our information, but with our people. That's the reason why all contact from now on will be exclusively with me."

I decided not to tell her what had happened after leaving the flat. She and Val knew far too much about me already.

Streetlights sprang up at the roadside and signs told me we were approaching a place called Heinola.

Tom sparked up, taking off his headphones. A low-toned, tinny dance beat filled the air. "Are we there yet?"

Liv helped out. "Another thirty minutes, Tom."

He became a bashful schoolboy again. "Oh… thanks."

Liv turned the heating down a notch and pulled off her hat. Her hair bounced around her shoulders.

Tom was looking out at the town and daydreaming as he pulled a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose, then examined his effort in the streetlight, as if it held some sort of prophecy.

We finished moving around the town, another anti surveillance maneuver, and left on a much smaller road. The houses and lights quickly dwindled and trees and darkness soon took over, with just the occasional driveway leading into the woods.

Liv was still checking behind us for lights, and Tom, having found the meaning of life in his Kleenex, went back to listening to his music.

Eventually we turned onto a blacktop road, tree lined and cleared of snow, then carried on for another two to three miles, down a slight hill, until the trees gave way to a house that was suddenly illuminated by ground lights as the vehicle approached. We must have passed a sensor.

The place looked like something out of a James Bond film. Blofeld was probably looking down on us from inside, stroking his cat.

It was maybe sixty or seventy yards long and looked just as if someone had taken an enormous slice out of an apartment building and perched it twenty feet off the ground on two massive concrete supports. Val certainly did things in style.

The driveway took us under the house, where glass panels sealed the area around the pillars to make an internal parking lot. Two large patio type doors opened automatically as we approached, then closed behind us.

It was surprisingly warm as I stepped out of the Mere. The lights shining through the windows and the reflection of the snow made me screw up my face until my eyes adjusted.

Liv hit a key chain and a brown door opened in the left-hand pillar.

Tom and I grabbed our bags and followed her into a hot stairwell. I noticed that light-brown walking boots had replaced the cowboy look.

We entered a vast, high-ceilinged space, maybe thirty yards long and twenty wide, and, just like the London flat, it was clinically white and sparsely furnished. There was a door to my immediate right which led into the kitchen, through which I could see white veneer cupboards and steel countertops.

The living area, where we were standing, was straight out of an Architectural Digest. Two white leather sofas faced each other across a glass-and-chrome coffee table, and that was it. No TV, music center, magazines, flowers, pictures on the wall, nothing. White vertical blinds stretched from floor to ceiling where I expected windows to be.

The lighting was low and supplied by wall lamps white of course. There were no fixtures in the ceiling.

Tom and I stood with our bags in our hands, taking it all in.

"I'll show you your rooms." Liv was already walking toward the far right-hand door. I wondered if she ever waited for anyone, or if Armani insisted she always went in front.

We followed into a hallway, our shoes squeaking on the polished wooden floor.

My room was through the first door on the left. Again, it was a world of white, with a low, Japanese-style bed, shower, white marble tiling, and stacks of brand-new white towels. There was no wardrobe, just small canvas storage spaces suspended from a chrome rail. Surprisingly, because the view must have been fantastic, there were no windows.

Liv said, "No need. It's always too dark."

I put my bag on the floor; there was nowhere else to put it.

She turned away. "Tom, your room is next door."

They disappeared, but I could hear the mumble of voices through the wall as I took my jacket off and listened to the constant hum of the heating. Her rubber-soled boots soon came squeaking past and she paused in the doorway. "Would you like some coffee, Nick, and maybe something to eat? Then we must get to work. We don't have much time."

"Yeah, thanks."

She nodded and made her way back toward the living area.

I repositioned my bag in the corner of the room it seemed out of place anywhere else as Tom stuck his head round the door. "Nice one, mate.

She worth price of admission or what? You coming for a snack?"

A couple of minutes later, Tom and I sat facing each other on the white leather. The sofa made creaking sounds as we got comfortable, and the clink of china came from the kitchen. It seemed I wouldn't get anything out of him while Liv was about, which wasn't a bad thing really. At least it shut him up. We sat and waited with only the low hum of the heating for company.

She reappeared with a full coffepot, milk, and mugs on a tray, and a plate of crackers and sliced cheese. Placing it on the glass table, she sat down next to Tom. I wasn't sure whether he was wriggling with pleasure or embarrassment.

"Let me explain the setup," she said. "I will be staying here with you both. My room is over on the other side." She pointed to the opposite door.

"The room across from your bedrooms is where the laptop is, for you, Tom, to decrypt the firewall. I'll tell you more about that in a moment." She turned to me. "Nick, also in there are maps of the house you'll be visiting."

She started to pour. "By Tuesday morning you must have discovered the access sequence, entered the house, and copied the files. If not, my instructions are that the deal is off."

I sat and listened, knowing that even if I had to make a pact with the devil it would all be completed in time. I wanted this money. I needed this money.

Liv and I took a sip of black coffee. Tom didn't touch his, obviously not wanting to be a nuisance and ask for anything herbal. We lapsed back into a strained silence.

She sat and watched our discomfort, almost enjoying it. It made me feel as if she knew more about Tom and me than we did about her.

At length I said, "It will happen."

Tom nodded. "No drama."

"I'm sure it will. We will discuss the minor details of money, information exchange, and so on later." She stood up. "Come, bring your drinks. Let's start work."

We followed her down the hall. The room on the right was just as white as the rest of the house, and very large and rectangular. There were two pine desks and chairs. One had an aluminum briefcase on it, the other, a small black sleek-looking IBM laptop a bit smaller than a sheet of Xerox paper, together with the box it had come in, with spare wires draped over the top and a thin black nylon carry bag with a shoulder strap.

Liv pointed at the briefcase. "Tom, that Think Pad is for you. Nick, come." She continued to the other desk.

As she and Tom started to talk firewall stuff, I undipped the case and lifted the lid. I found several marked maps, all of different scales.

It looked as if we were aiming for a town called Lappeenranta, about seventy-five miles to the east of us and close to the Russian border.

The largest scale map showed that the whole area was a massive system of lakes, maybe more than eighty miles square, with hundreds of small islands and inlets dotted with villages and small towns. The target was just over fifteen miles north of Lappeenranta, along a road linking some of the islands to an area called Kuhala. The house wasn't lakeside, but set back about under a mile from the water and surrounded by forest.

Liv left us to it, and I watched her go. She was unbelievably cool. I realized that I was beginning to like her a lot.

"Hey, Tom?" I turned to face him. He was hunched over the small screen, his back to me.

He turned in his chair and looked up. "What's the matter, mate?"

"I think it would be better if you didn't mention anything to Liv about the money. It's just that she may be getting less than us and will get a bit pissed off. If she asks, just say you don't know, okay?"

"Isn't this her place, then?"

"I doubt it. She's just working on the job, like us. I think it would be best if we kept our cards close to our chests, okay?"

He turned back to the desk. "If you say so, mate. Whatever." The keys started to clink away once more under his dancing fingers. "Means jack to me."

I returned to the material spread out in front of me. Maps are useful things, but they only go so far. I needed to get my ass on target and do a proper recce. I listened to Tom messing about behind me as I sat and memorized the maps.

The best way I had learned to do this was by visualizing the route I'd take. It was far easier than trying to remember place names and road numbers. I sat there, staring at the blank wall, making my way from Heinola to the target house, when I noticed a piece of plasterboard missing around a double-pronged plug.

I got on my knees and had a look, pulling back the edge of the board to reveal lead sheeting behind, covered with a plastic, saran wrap-type lining. I glanced back at Tom. He was still hammering on the keyboard like a man possessed.

I pushed the plasterboard back in place and walked around the room, looking for any more holes. Then I realized there weren't any phone jacks. Even in a modern house that was taking minimalism a bit far.

Was it to make this place impossible to communicate with electronically? If so, Val took his work very seriously indeed, and it unnerved me a bit. I didn't like discovering things that I should know already.