Authors: Julie Moffett
Nada.
Not willing to give up yet, I thought about his personal effects in the shoebox. I typed
Einstein, rabbit’s foot, Thomas Jefferson High School, Mars,
and
Michael Hart
in a multitude of combinations. I even typed the word
paranoia,
but came up empty. I spent another ten minutes manipulating all that data some more in as many normal and weird ways that I could imagine, but still came up with nothing.
“Crappola,” I whispered in frustration and, just for the heck of it, typed in that word.
Nothing.
I expelled a frustrated breath and pressed my hand to my forehead. “What the hell are you about, Darren?”
“Any luck?” Finn was still going through the papers in Darren’s desk.
“None and frankly I think this is a lost cause. He probably used a mixture of nonspecific letters, symbols and numbers. That’s what I would do if I were him.”
“Then think like him.”
There you have it. Wisdom dispensed from a lawyer.
Sighing, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I needed to put myself in Darren’s shoes. If I were paranoid and had just hacked into my own company’s network to create my own safe haven, how would I protect it?
I linked my fingers behind my head and thought. I guess it would depend on why I created my own account. If I wanted complete and utter secrecy, I would use a case sensitive, nine-digit password. Then it would be nearly impossible to crack. Since I presumed that was the whole reason Darren eliminated administrative access to his computer, I couldn’t see how I’d have any success pursuing this avenue of investigation. He obviously didn’t trust anyone,
ergo,
he didn’t want anyone to be able to see what he had on his drive.
Then why did he name me in that note?
My mind flitted to Darren’s Navajo coded message.
SOS,
it had read. A universal cry for help. A cry of one geek to another.
Suddenly, a weird sensation came over me. I abruptly sat up and started typing, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I tried half a dozen manipulations and then stopped when I heard the computer working.
“Finn, I’m in,” I said in disbelief.
Finn dropped the papers and rushed over to my side. “You’re a bloody genius, Lexi. What was the password?”
I looked up at Finn, feeling a bit dazed. “My name as it appeared in Georgetown’s yearbook the year we graduated.”
“You mean to say the password was
Lexi Carmichael?
”
“Well, um…not exactly.”
His brows drew together. “So,
what
exactly?”
I sighed. “Lexi
‘Zorch’
Carmichael.”
“
Zorch?
Do I dare ask?”
“Well, in hacker language, it can mean a lot of things. In my particular case, it sort of referred to luck or brownie points.”
“Damn it, Lexi. Would you mind speaking English?”
“I’m trying,” I protested, lifting a hand. “Let me put it this way, some of the other students may have considered me—in a tiny way—a bit of a teacher’s pet. They sometimes said things like, ‘Maybe Lexi could help me increase my quota of
zorch
with Professor Colby’ or ‘I ran out of
zorch
for the programming exam.’ It was a joke. Lots of computer-science students had nicknames. I don’t know why, but somehow my nickname stuck.”
“Zorch.”
“Look, forget the
zorch.
The point is he used my name as a password on his computer at work. This is getting totally creepy.”
I accessed Darren’s hard drive, somehow not all that surprised to discover it had basically been wiped clean. There was no smoking gun, no blinking message for me and no encrypted or coded file. Nothing. I might as well have not guessed the password.
“It’s clean,” I said to Finn who was still peering over my shoulder. “Nothing of interest here.”
In fact, the only possibly useful items left on Darren’s drive were his email address book and the bookmarks in his internet browser. I glanced through his address book and noticed he had my home email account listed in his book.
“Jeez, he’s got my personal email account address,” I said, shaking my head. I quickly emailed both files to my account for a closer perusal later and then sat back. I rarely gave out that address, mostly just to my parents and close friends.
“That is peculiar.”
“Peculiar?” I repeated, my voice going up a notch. “Darren Greening uses my name as a password and has my home email account listed in his personal address book. But to my knowledge I’ve never met this guy nor received any kind of correspondence from him. What’s the damn connection I’m missing?”
“I’m certain we’re getting closer to finding that out.”
But I didn’t share his confidence. I needed a hell of a lot more data.
“How are you doing on the paper search?”
“Nothing,” Finn said. “All the research materials are on nanotechnology and energy. It’s all Greek to me. But I’ve got one more drawer to go. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
I thought for a minute. “You know, at our initial meeting Niles mentioned that they had brought in a new guy to replace Michael Hart. Do you know who he is?”
Finn nodded. “Yes. A guy named Evan Chang. I talked to him on the phone. He didn’t seem to know anything useful.”
“Maybe I could talk with him.”
“Niles might not approve of you wandering about the hallways alone.”
“You think I should call for his approval first?”
Finn sighed. “No, I don’t think it’s necessary and frankly, I’m not crazy about the way he is hovering. I’ll cover for you if he comes back while you’re gone. I’d like to finish up here.”
“Okay. Any idea where Chang’s office is located?”
Finn slid his finger down a laminated piece of paper taped beneath Darren’s phone. “Room 1604. Think you can find it?”
“Of course, I can. If I get lost, I’ll just ask directions.”
“Just don’t get shot by security.”
“I think it would be wiser to hope I don’t touch something and blow us up by accident.”
Finn chuckled as I left the room. I wandered down the blinding white hallway looking for Room 1604. It took me all of about two minutes to find it and I didn’t even have to ask for directions. The door was open and someone sat typing at a computer, his back toward the door. I cleared my throat and he swiveled around.
“Can I help you?”
He was young and Asian, dressed in jeans and a tucked-in button-down shirt. His white lab coat was open and a couple of pens were shoved upside down in his pocket. His glasses had been pushed up on the top of his head.
“Hi, I’m Lexi Carmichael from X-Corp.” I waited to see if there was any flicker of recognition of my name in his eyes. Nope. Nothing. “Are you Evan Chang?”
“Yes.” He stood and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “What can I do for you?”
“We were hired by your company to locate Darren Greening. I wondered if I could ask you a few questions.”
“I already talked to someone from X-Corp. I don’t know where Darren is. It’s not like we’re friends or confidants. In fact, we’re barely colleagues. I think he resents me, at least in his mind, for trying to take Michael Hart’s place.”
“Well, essentially wasn’t that why you were hired?”
“I was hired because I’m a good scientist and a careful researcher. I never wanted to take Michael’s place in Darren’s life.”
“Is that what he thought you were trying to do?”
“Probably. He certainly hasn’t yet had a kind word for me.”
I thought for a moment. “Tell me a bit about your background. What did you get your degree in?”
“What does that have to do with Darren’s disappearance?”
“Just humor me.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got an undergraduate degree in molecular chemistry and a MS in biochemical engineering, both from MIT. I also took several graduate courses at Penn State in nanoscience and nanotechnology. I’m currently working on my PhD there.”
“So getting a job at Flow was a big step up for you.”
“Well, yeah, sort of. Look, I’m not going to lie to you. Darren is brilliant. The glimpses of his work that I’ve seen are breathtakingly revolutionary. He’s poised to make scientific history and I don’t mind admitting that I’d like to be a part of that. But the guy is completely nuts. He’s been extremely difficult to work with in my short time here.”
“So how is it that you became interested in Michael’s old job?” I asked. My question seemed to catch him off guard. Curiously I saw a flicker of uneasiness in his eyes, replaced quickly by indifference.
“A friend heard about the opening and thought I’d be a good fit. I interviewed and got the job. A lucky break for me, I guess.”
He was lying to me. But why?
“So you have no idea where Darren is right now?”
“He could be on the far side of the moon for all I know. But frankly I wish he were back here now. Working without his guidance, bizarre as he may be, is damn near impossible.”
I thanked him and made my way back to Darren’s office. Niles waited there with Finn and looked angry with me.
“Why didn’t you wait for an escort?” he demanded.
“Sorry. I didn’t touch anything.”
Niles seemed to calm down. “Finn told me that you got on to Darren’s hard drive.”
“Yep, I got a lucky break. But it’s essentially wiped clean.”
“By Darren?”
“My gut says yes. But I haven’t figured out why.”
“Well, if you do, you will let us know, won’t you?”
His voice was slightly sarcastic and I resisted the urge to return the favor. “You’ll be the first to know. Especially if you let us take the hard drive back to X-Corp. If there is something interesting here, we can find it. It may take time, actually a lot of time, but it can be done.”
Niles narrowed his eyes. “No.”
“No? Finding out what was on this hard drive might lead us to Darren.”
Niles waved a hand. “No, you can’t take the hard drive back to X-Corp. Sorry, but it wouldn’t be secure enough. You can work on it here.”
I looked up at Finn. “I guess we can send Ken and Jay to work on the drive around the clock. Who knows, maybe they’ll get lucky like I did.”
Finn nodded. “All right. We’ll be in touch.”
Niles showed us out and we returned our badges at the security desk.
“Any luck with Darren’s papers?” I asked Finn as we climbed into the Jag.
“None whatsoever. It was a colossal waste of time. Any success with Evan Chang?”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it. There’s something about Chang that didn’t add up for me, but I can’t put my finger on it just yet.”
“I’m curious about NanoLab.” Finn put the Jag into gear and then pulled out of the parking lot. “I’ll see what Ben has dug up when we get back.”
We drove the rest of the way back to X-Corp in relative silence. Finn parked the car in the garage and I was just about to get out when he put a hand on my arm.
“Are you free for dinner on Friday night?”
Was he serious? “Are you sure you want to risk another date with me?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t.”
“Okay, then I’m free.”
“Don’t you want to check your social calendar?”
“Ha, ha. What time?”
“Seven o’clock?”
“Just don’t bring a limo,” I warned, climbing out of the car.
“Only if you promise not to empty the contents of your stomach in my Jag.”
“Jeez, you drive a hard bargain, Shaughnessy.”
“I call them as I see them, sweetheart.”
“It’s a deal.”
He grinned and the day started looking a whole lot better. I hummed a tune and a little spring crept into my step as I headed back to my office.
Hours later, I headed for home. I had time to nuke a TV dinner and eat it before changing into my karate outfit and tying a spanking new yellow belt around my waist. I’d broken a wooden plank with my naked foot to earn that belt and I was damn proud of it.
Actually, I wasn’t feeling much like breaking anything tonight, including a sweat, but I wanted to see Lars before his date with Basia. I drove to Anderson’s Karate Studio in Laurel and hopped out of the car. I warmed up doing the usual pretzel stretches and then faked ten push-ups. Lars seemed to be in a good mood, probably in anticipation of his forthcoming date with Basia. Unfortunately for his students, it meant we had to run extra laps around the studio and do fifty extra push-ups. I was sweating like a pig and class hadn’t even officially started yet. We practiced some routines and kicks and then sparred for about twenty minutes. I got paired with a fifteen-year-old kid with glasses. He beat the crap out of me.
I headed to the water fountain where Lars stood alone. “So, I hear you have a date with Basia tonight.”
He smiled. “Want to come along?”
“Ha, ha. What are your intentions?”
His smile stayed in place. “Are you sure you’re old enough to hear?”
“Look, I have the right to know. She’s my best friend. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“Don’t worry, Lexi. She’s in good hands.”
He held up huge hands that I knew were licensed killing machines. It didn’t make me feel all that better. But it wasn’t like I could say any more. They were adults and I just hoped they used protection.
I grabbed my equipment bag and slung it over my shoulder, heading out into the cool November air. I had almost reached my car when a figure stepped out of the shadows and nearly collided with me.
“Lexi?”
“Xavier? You scared the living crap out of me. What in the world are you doing here?”
Xavier stood with both hands shoved into jacket pockets, no hat on his head. He jerked a gloveless thumb toward the karate studio. “Checking him out.”
I leaned back against my car. “Jeez, you’re not going to start stalking him or anything, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m just sizing up the competition, which, by the way, happens to be damn formidable.”
Trying to cheer him up, I said, “Contrary to popular belief, size isn’t everything.” Like I’d really know. Oh well, friends say what friends must.
“Well, he must be really good at karate.”
“He owns the studio. He’s a millionth degree black belt or something. You weren’t thinking about trying to take him on, were you?”
“After seeing him, no. He could snap me in two like a twig. Well, I wanted to see him and now I wish I hadn’t. I’m depressed.”
I looked at him in concern. “You aren’t going to go all postal now, are you?”
“You’re not making me feel any better.”
I sighed. “Look, Basia really likes you. She wouldn’t have slept with you if she didn’t. Take heart in that.”
“But apparently it wasn’t good enough or she wouldn’t be seeing Lars.”
“It isn’t all about sex for a woman, although she did say it was amazing with you.”
He perked up. “She said that?”
“She did. Come on, get in my car and let me turn on the heater. I’m freezing.”
We climbed into my Miata and I started the ignition, letting the car warm up before I turned on the heater.
“So if Basia likes me and thinks the sex is great, why does she want to see Lars?” Xavier looked miserable.
“Maybe she just doesn’t want to commit to one person right now. Basia is sort of a free spirit.”
“Do you think that means she’ll never want to commit?”
“Jeez, Xavier, you’re asking relationship advice from the wrong person. Practically speaking, I know squat about matters of the heart.”
“Well, you are a woman, right?”
“I’m insulted by that question.”
“I meant it as a statement of fact. You are a woman, and therefore, you know in general what women want.”
I thought that over. “Well, that’s true.”
“So what
do
women really want from a guy? Please, be a friend and enlighten me.”
I tapped my chin for a minute, letting the wheels in my head spin. “Okay, Xavier, you want to know what women
really
want?”
“Please, I’d be beyond grateful.”
“Okay, you asked for it. A woman wants a man who takes the time to see the
real
her. To look beyond the fact that she may not have big boobs or be as socially competent as other women. And fashion, sheesh, he shouldn’t care a thing about fashion. A guy should like a woman whether she’s in a simple black sheath gown or a low-cut red hooker dress. In fact, looks shouldn’t matter at all. He shouldn’t be attracted to women who have nicely manicured fingernails and gorgeous red hair that looks like a flame-colored waterfall cascading down a curvy body. Oh, and I think women wouldn’t mind having a guy who could cook, clean, vacuum, iron, squish spiders and put the toilet seat down. Yep, I think that just about covers it.”
For a minute Xavier just looked at me with his eyes wide, his mouth open. Then he cleared his throat. “Um, actually, Lexi, I was thinking of something I could buy Basia online.”
“Oh. Um, in that case, jewelry or expensive chocolate would work.”
“Great.” He put his hand on the door latch. “Thanks, Lexi. I feel better already. You’re a good friend.”
Make that an
idiot
friend, I thought. “Sure, anytime. And, let’s keep this little talk just between the two of us, okay?”
He hopped out of the car and gave me a thumbs-up sign.
On the way home, I decided to stop by the county library and pick up a couple of books. I slid into a chair and surfed the computerized catalogue to see what might help me understand men-women relationships better. I jotted down the numbers and easily rounded up all three of the books I wanted:
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus
by John Gray,
The Secret to the Big O
by Claudia Morner and
Deciphering the Kama Sutra
(illustrated) by Marina Bhutra. Lucky for me, there aren’t many sexually clueless people in my neighborhood. I was headed for the check-out line when I ran directly into Slash.
“Aaaaaak,” I yelped. “What are you doing here?”
“You think I never visit the library?”
“You’re following me.”
“
Si,
in a manner of speaking. What have you got there,
cara?
” He eyed my books.
“Nothing.” Oh, God. I hugged the books to my chest. Unfortunately, the
Kama Sutra
book was on the bottom, featuring a handsomely illustrated picture of a couple embracing in a very interesting, not to mention complicated, position. Slash looked at me and lifted an eyebrow.
“They’re for a friend. A neighbor, actually. A slut. She doesn’t get out much. What do you want?”
He took me by the elbow and led me to a small table in the back of the library surrounded by bookshelves. “I want to talk to you.”
“You couldn’t wait until I got home to break in?”
“I enjoy seeing you in different venues.”
“Very amusing. What’s up?”
“Michael Hart’s death was no accident.”
“I agree.”
Slash studied me for a moment. “Do you think it was a hit-and-run?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure the hit was an accident.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“We did a little investigation of our own.”
“We, meaning who?”
He just smiled and I didn’t know if he referred to the NSA or the entire federal government, whom he seemed to have at his every beck and call.
“The police did an investigation and ruled it an accident,” I pointed out.
“The local police don’t have
our
resources.”
There it was again, the oblique reference. “So, why did you rule out accident?”
“There was a dent in the driver’s side of his car, above the rear tire. The paint flecks recovered came from a dark-colored sedan, just like the one the witness said she saw.”
“That doesn’t prove it was intentional. The driver might have fallen asleep at the wheel or been drunk or something. The witness said the sedan swerved unexpectedly.”
“True. But the swerve could have been intentional.”
“Could have wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”
“We traced the paint and then ran simulations of the accident on where and how the offender’s car would have been hit based on the point of impact. Then we canvassed mechanics within a fifty-mile radius to track down the car. We got lucky and came up with a winner.”
“So you know who did it?”
“Not yet. The car was registered to a person known to be deceased for six years with a bogus address. He used cash for payment. But it is only a matter of time before we track him down.”
“Jeez, remind me never to underestimate the power of the NSA.”
“Moreover, it wasn’t the first so-called accident Michael had survived.”
“It wasn’t?”
“He’d been attacked in what was eventually considered a mugging gone bad a couple of weeks earlier. He would have been dead, but the mugger’s gun jammed.”
“I don’t get it. Why all the effort? If they wanted Michael Hart dead, why not just take him out with a sharpshooter?”
“Because it had to look like an accident.”
“Why? I’m not following you here. Why would someone want to kill Michael Hart?”
“To have direct access to Darren Greening? To interrupt his work or drive him over the edge? Make him paranoid? Control his work or report on his progress?”
“If someone wanted to end or interrupt Darren’s work, why bother with Michael? Why not go straight for Darren?”
“It could be for a number of reasons. They don’t want to kill him, just monitor him.”
“You mean someone is trying to steal his work? As in industrial spying?”
“Possibly.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why is the U.S. government really so interested in Darren Greening?”
He was silent.
I thought a moment. “Okay, I can play the speculation game. Darren is our ticket out of Middle Eastern problems. That must mean he’s a lot closer to the energy-replacement fuel than I thought. You’ve been monitoring his progress.”
“Yes.”
“So whoever started this has succeeded in interrupting his work and making Darren paranoid.”
“If that was what they intended. Somehow, I don’t think they intended for him to bolt.”
“I don’t blame Darren for being paranoid, but who is he running from?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’re doing our own research into NanoLab Industries.”
“The manufacturing partner.”
Slash nodded. “Yes.”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay, even if I buy all this, why the heck am I mixed up in all this? I’m sure I don’t know Darren Greening. Why send an SOS to me—a person he’s never even met?”
“Psychologically, it makes sense. In fact,
you
make sense. You would be a good person to have on his side. When you are forced into a position of not trusting anyone, you’ve got to rely on people you don’t know, people who aren’t familiar with your patterns or habits or style. Only those completely unconnected to you or your problems are the most trustworthy.”
Slash sounded like he was speaking from experience. “But why
me?
”
“Why not? You’re actually in a good position to help him. You have strong connections in both the government and private sector. You’re a hacker like he is and you have similar mindsets—a kinship of sorts.”
“But I’m hired by the very people he may not have reason to trust.”
“Yes, but at
his
command,” Slash reminded me. “Regardless, there must be a link between the two of you,
cara.
I’d advise you to figure it out and soon.”
He pressed a kiss against my cheek and then headed for the exit. I watched him go, wondering why I let him come and go in my life in such an unpredictable way.
I went to the circulation desk and checked out the books, telling the librarian that the books were for a neighbor. She didn’t believe me, but at least it allowed me to save face. I drove home and checked the messages on my phone. I had one from Basia who told me a gift would soon arrive and be sure to accept it, and one from my mother asking me if I’d come for dinner over the weekend. I headed for the shower, trying to think of a good reason why I couldn’t go to my parents’ for dinner. I knew full well my mother had another blind date set up for me and I wasn’t even remotely in the mood for suffering through it.
I took a shower, pulled on a pair of panties and a T-shirt even though it was only nine-thirty and got the Mars-Venus book to read in bed. I was headed there when the doorbell rang. Surprised, I looked out the peephole and saw a young blonde woman I didn’t know standing there. She held a large black purse, which looked kind of like a doctor’s bag.
“Can I help you?” I said without opening the door.
“My name is Ursula. Basia Kowalski sent me.”
“Basia?”
“Yes, she said she’d call and tell you I was coming.”
I thought for a moment. Basia
had
said on the answering machine that she was sending a gift. Could this woman have it?
“Just a minute.” I hurried back to the bedroom and pulled on my ratty white-and-blue robe. I unarmed the alarm and unlocked the deadbolt, cracking open the door.
“Okay, you can hand it over,” I said.
“Hand what over?”
“The present.”
Ursula laughed. “I
am
the present, darling.”
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
“Um. No offense, but I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“Basia sent me to give you a little instruction on sexual confidence.”
My mouth dropped open. “I…I don’t know what to say. Look, I’m terribly sorry but there appears to have been some kind of mistake. My door doesn’t swing that way. Actually, it barely swings at all. I mean, I’m not
that
kind of girl…”
Ursula laughed again. “Open up, darling. I’m not here for what you think. I’m an exotic dancer. I’m supposed to give you some tips on loosening up and learning more sensual tricks to get your man. I can see I’m not a moment too soon.”