Never Say Spy (11 page)

Connor and Webb arrived a few minutes before four o’clock, immersed in a debate over World of Warcraft.  Kane broke into their conversation as soon as they sat down.

“Webb, will you set up a simultaneous real-time feed from all of the portals?  We need to be able to monitor them.”

“Sure, no problem,” the young man responded.  He fired up his laptop again, fingers flying.  After a short delay, he turned the screen toward Kane.

Kane nodded.  “Good.  Watch these feeds and yell if Ms. Kelly shows up in any of them.”

He stood, and I rose, too, taking the magazine with me.  He walked me to the door of the ladies’ room and leaned against the wall outside the door.

Once settled inside, I immediately opened the magazine and began to read with fierce concentration.  There was no way I wanted Kane to have to crash in here and find my zombie body sitting on the toilet while my brain went who-knows-where.

I did what I had to do, and we made our way back to the meeting room.  Two other men had joined Webb and Connor in our absence, and I studied the new arrivals as we entered.  They were a study in contrasts.

One man was short and meticulously groomed.  He wore a dark suit over a crisp white shirt and a quiet tie, looking much too formal for a Sunday afternoon at home.  His sandy, thinning hair was precisely trimmed and parted, and his shoes shone like dark mirrors.

The other man was also sandy-haired, but there the resemblance ended.  He was completely bald on top and his remaining lank hair dangled in too-long strands.  He wore a rumpled shirt that didn’t conceal the soft roll of belly fat beneath.  The front of the shirt was tucked in, exhibiting what looked suspiciously like food stains, but half of the tail dangled outside the waistband of his green pants.  The pants were too short, exposing white socks with black shoes.

As I walked by them, my nose was assailed by a wave of body odour from the unkempt man, and an almost equally nauseating wall of sweet cologne from the dapper one.  I held my breath and sat as far away as possible.

Kane took a seat opposite the two men.  “Sandler, Smith,” he greeted them evenly.

“Kane,” the dapper man replied.  He infused the single word with the disgust of a man who’d just stepped in dog shit with his shiny new shoes.  “Who is this?” he continued distastefully, indicating me.  The other man sat in silence.

Kane indicated the well-dressed man.  “Aydan Kelly, this is James Sandler, head of security for Sirius Dynamics.  And this is John Smith, head developer.”  He indicated the slob.

I nodded to Sandler, disliking him immediately.  “Nice alias,” I said to Smith.

He tensed, his nostrils flaring.  “
What
?”

I backtracked hurriedly.  “Sorry, it was just a joke.  I went to university with a guy named John Smith, and we nicknamed him ‘The Alias’ because it was such a common name, it was like he was trying to hide something.  Sorry, bad joke, I’m just a little nervous.”

I realized Kane was watching us intently.  I shut up.  Jeez.  This is why I don’t go out much.

“Why is this... person... here?” Sandler addressed Kane.

“As Webb informed you, we discovered a security breach in the network.  The first instance that we know of was this past Thursday at 12:30.  Ms. Kelly claims she was able to access the network from outside the building.  She has subsequently been able to gain access several times from within the building, without the use of a security fob,” Kane said.

Sandler and Smith stared at me.  “That’s impossible,” they said almost in unison.

“We have data records,” Kane said.  “In all cases, Ms. Kelly is clearly identifiable.  In several instances, some or all of us…” he indicated Webb and Connor, “…saw her access the network and followed her in.  There is no RFID signature for her in any of the records.”

Sandler replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  “I hardly think you are qualified to analyze the data records.  You have undoubtedly misinterpreted the data, creating a crisis where none exists.  Allow Smith to review them.”

Kane nodded shortly.  “Webb, bring up the first record.”

God, not again.  I shrank in my seat and stared at the table while the humiliating video played.  In the silence at the end, I continued to study the table, my face on fire.

“How very… edifying,” Sandler sneered.  “I must compliment you, Ms. Kelly, on your theatrical aspirations, however, I suggest to you that this is hardly an appropriate venue for an amateur pornographic production.”

“I didn’t know I was in your network,” I muttered.  “It was completely unsecured.  I wasn’t even in the building.”

“Let me see it again,” Smith said to Spider.

I groaned.  “Why don’t you just post it on the internet so everybody can watch?”

“Why, Ms. Kelly, surely you have not been stricken by a sudden case of modesty,” Sandler derided me.  “If you choose to conduct your sexual escapades in the middle of virtual road, you can scarcely bemoan the attentiveness of your subsequent audience.”

Anger and humiliation frothed into a potent cocktail in my veins.  I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything that would get me into any deeper trouble, mentally throttling Sandler until his face turned purple…

“
Aydan!
” Kane snapped.  I jerked upright, startled.  “Stay here,” he said forcefully.

“Right, sorry.”

Shit, that was a close call.  I’d almost slipped into the network again.  Could a person could be charged with virtual assault?

I shook myself.  Stay here.

I frowned around the table, defiantly meeting their eyes.  Smith was looking speculative.  “Kane and Webb are right,” he said.  “There is no RFID signature for Ms. Kelly.”  He turned to me.  “How and when did you reverse-engineer the fob?”

“I
didn’t
.  I don’t have a fob.  Ask Kane.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Kane agreed.  “I searched her myself.  She has no fob anywhere in her belongings or on her person.”

“Oh, I’m sure you searched her
thoroughly
,” Sandler sneered.

A flush climbed Kane’s neck and he opened his mouth to reply, but Spider interjected indignantly, “Kane followed proper procedure to the letter!  Connor and I were both witnesses, and he did everything by the book!”

Sandler smiled.  “Yes, it’s clear that Ms. Kelly prefers an audience.”

“Enough,” Kane overrode him.  “The issue here is Ms. Kelly’s access to the network.  She has no fob.  She shows no RFID signature.  She is capable of accessing the network at any time, completely bypassing security.”

Smith addressed me again.  “How are you doing it?”

“I don’t know.  Any time I start thinking about something and stop focusing on my present environment, I get sucked into the network.”

“You can’t get
sucked into
the network,” he scoffed.  “Accessing the network requires intent and two-factor authentication, along with a complex algorithm to modulate your brainwave frequency.”

I threw up my hands.  “Apparently not for me.”

“Show me,” Smith commanded.

I looked to Kane for approval, and he nodded.

“Remember, you told me to do this,” I said.  “I’m not trying to sneak around and spy.”

“Duly noted,” he agreed.  “Webb, Connor, stay behind and monitor the feeds.  Sandler and Smith, get ready to follow her.”

Sandler snorted, but I noticed both he and Smith were fingering their security fobs.  I leaned back in my chair, breathing deeply.

Oh God, what if I couldn’t do it now?

I pushed the thought from my mind and concentrated on being somewhere else.

I stepped into the vacant bay in my garage, remembering with a pang that my poor little bullet-ridden Saturn was still in Calgary.  Seconds later, Kane, Sandler, and Smith popped into being beside me.  Sandler was scowling.  Smith regarded me as if I was a strange new bug that had just appeared under his microscope.  Kane remained impassive, but I thought I detected a faint air of vindication about him.

“Fascinating,” Smith said.  “Where are we?”

“My garage.”

Kane’s face lit up.  “Nice wheels,” he breathed, approaching my Corvette convertible with the reverent appreciation of a fellow car fanatic.  “Is that the ‘67?”

“’66.  The only real difference in the body styling was the side air intakes.”

“Can I see under the hood?”

“Yeah, it’s got the 427 big-block, with a three-barrel racing carb,” I told him as I popped the hood.  We stood side by side and admired the gleaming engine.  It looked even better than real life.

I shot a fond glance around my garage.  In my loving rendition here in virtual reality, it was even bigger and brighter, and the smooth concrete floor was pristine.  Even the oil stains under my half-finished ’53 Chevy sedan had vanished.

Smith wandered over.  “Fantastic detail,” he commented.  He drifted to my shiny floor-standing tool chest, opening drawers and lifting out tools.

“Hey,” I snapped.  “Put those back where you got them.”

“How far does your control of detail extend?” Smith asked.

“What?”  I wasn’t sure whether he was making a crack about my compulsive neatness or asking a question about the simulation I’d constructed.

“How big a simulation can you create while sustaining this level of detail?” he rephrased.

“I don’t know.  I’m not putting any effort into this because it’s so familiar.  I guess if I expect something to be the way I know it to be in real life, then it’ll just be there.  Other than that, if I’m not expecting something there’s just a white void.”

“What other areas of the network can you access?” he asked.

“I don’t know.  I haven’t tried to access anything because I didn’t know I was in a network.”

“Try,” Smith urged.

I looked to Kane for guidance again.  “This feels like a witch hunt.  Tie her up and throw her in the water.  If she sinks and drowns, oh, oops, she was innocent.  If she floats, she’s a witch, so you can fish her out and burn her at the stake.”

“This session is being recorded, and Webb and Connor are monitoring the live feed,” he reassured me.  “Your cooperation will help you in the end.”

I thought about that for a moment.  The ‘in the end’ part didn’t reassure me much, but my options were severely limited.

I sighed and waved my hand, dissolving the garage into white nothingness.  The others studied me while we stood in the void.  Sandler seemed to have suspended his pique for the moment, and was eyeing me as intently as everyone else.  I gazed around at the blankness, considering.  How would I go about accessing the actual structure and files inside a network?

My antiquated computer knowledge resurfaced grudgingly.  Network topology, God, that was so long ago.  Okay, if I followed the network structure, it might look like corridors.  A large room appeared around us, corridors branching off in several directions.

Choosing one at random, I walked down it until it ended in a brick wall.  “Firewall,” I thought out loud.  “Wonder if I can get through.”

I frowned at the bricks, willing them away.  Nothing happened.

“Hmmph.”  I reached out to touch the wall, which still looked as solid as ever.  My hand went through it as if through thin air.

“Yikes!”  I jumped back, staring at the bricks.  “Can you guys get through this?”

“I should think so, we all have top-level clearance,” Sandler snorted.

“I don’t want to step through unless there’s somebody on the other side,” I said.  “I’ve had enough accusations of spying for one day.  Do you want me to go through or not?”

Sandler stepped through the firewall.  “Try,” he said from the other side, his voice muffled only slightly by the seemingly solid wall.

Once again, I eyed Kane, and he nodded.  The illusion of brick was so convincing that I put my hands out to protect my face as I stepped through the wall.  Kane and Smith followed behind me.

Sandler’s expression changed from contempt to consternation.  “You should not have been able to do that.”

I sighed.  “I tried to tell you.  I’m just bumbling through here like it was mist.  Could any of you have accidentally granted me access somehow?  You said your fobs use RFIDs.  That’s radio-frequency identification, so it broadcasts a signal, right?  Could your fobs have overlapped to let me in or something?”

Sandler’s natural personality reasserted itself.  “Surely you don’t think the DND uses garden-variety RFIDs.  These are highly modified, technologically advanced units that are biometrically keyed to an individual.  Our fobs couldn’t possibly allow you access.”

I did my best to ignore his snotty attitude.  “Should I leave now?”

“No,” Smith said.  “Keep going.  See if you can access any files.”

“I really don’t think I want to do that.”

“It would help us if you would try,” Sandler said, clearly attempting civility.

I frowned up at Kane.  “I have to trust you on this.  And I don’t trust anybody.  Tell me now, am I making things worse for myself?”