Harbinger
Page 25
Hmph. Twenty million euros, transferred immediately… “Double-blind,” she muttered with a sneer, mocking Braun’s voice and tone. As if twenty million euros could so easily pass from one account, to human hands, to another account, and then through human hands a second time for a final deposit. “No trouble at all,” she mumbled sarcastically. “I’ll just pull it out of my ass and hand it off to a courier.”
She tensed suddenly as a disturbing thought occurred to her. What if they feel I’m a threat to their privacy? I’m the only person other than Braun who knows where all of their money is.
Her stomach gurgled again, accompanied by a sudden intestinal discomfort. She pressed her hand to her stomach as the elevator bounced to a halt and the doors slid open.
Thank God this day is over, she thought, with the welcoming image of pajamas and hot tea filling her mind.
One of the security guards was exiting at the same time and nodded to her as he opened the side door. She looked down and sneered upon seeing the coffee stain on his shirt and crotch.
He averted his gaze uncomfortably. “I see your schedule has been chaotic all day,” he said in German and then opened the door for her. “Good evening, Frau Loeff.”
She smiled thinly and nodded before the odd comment sunk in. She stopped in her tracks and turned to him.
“How do you mean ‘chaotic’?” she asked, a reptilian smile on her face.
The guard swallowed hard, perhaps feeling he had overstepped his bounds. “I apologize. I meant nothing by it,” he said with a nervous tremor in his voice. “Have a good evening, Frau.”
“No, no. You said my schedule was chaotic all day. What did you mean by that?” she pressed.
He looked as though a gun were being pointed at him. Abruptly, he stood rigidly as he would if answering a ranking military officer and explained in a precise, unemotional manner.
“The Frau arrived earlier than usual. Was delayed for her noon meal by the American. Left briefly, then returned before the lunch hour was complete, and is now departing the building earlier than usual,” he spilled out all in one breath. “I meant no disrespect. I was commenting on my observations as a security officer and apologize for the appearance of inappropriate familiarity.”
As soon as he said “American,” the hairs stood up on the back of her neck and the small meal she had at lunch liquefied in her intestines. She kept the mask of a false smile on her face.
“Oh no. There was no offense taken at all. I was simply curious as to what you meant. Your attention to detail is quite admirable, especially considering your position,” she said, maintaining outward calm despite the turmoil in her gut. “So you met this American, did you?”
“Ja, gnädige, Frau,” he said and then looked down at the coffee stain on his uniform. “He accidentally spilled his coffee on me.”
“I have somehow forgotten the man’s name. Quite unusual for me. But as you indicated, it has been quite hectic today,” she said, her smile expanding hopefully. “Do you recall his name?
“Yes. I believe it was…” The guard looked up as if searching the air for the information, and then it came to him. “Herr Stark—William, I believe. At least that’s what I remember you calling him when he arrived.”
Her stomach felt as if it had molten lead poured into it. “Do you recall what time?”
“I’ll have to look at the log, ma’am, but I do remember it was after the time you normally depart for lunch,” he replied. “Would you like for me to pull up the log?”
His last words were spoken to her back as she turned and raced back to the elevator, leaving the guard standing there with a confused look.
No. No, no, no, please no, she thought, panicked, as the elevator returned her to the fourth floor with excruciating slowness.
Upon exiting the elevator, she trotted at the fastest pace her shoes and troubled digestive system would permit. “No, no, please no,” she pleaded quietly, aloud this time, before fumbling her key into the lock of her office.
She burst in and froze, staring at her office, looking from one surface to the next as the quiet tone of the alarm panel announced its countdown. After a few seconds of panicked attempted recall, trying to superimpose the condition of her office over what she remembered before lunch, she punched in her alarm code with only seconds to spare.
She pushed the door closed with her toe and began walking from room to room, careful not to touch anything. After inspecting each room, she found herself standing in front of her computer. For several minutes she just stared at it, knowing she should call someone in to check it for her.
“Please, please be alright,” she muttered as she entered her password.
Once in, she went through each of her directories, looking at the dates of modified files. Uncertain as to the significance of the information after nearly an hour of searching, she gave in and picked up the phone.
“Schmidt,” answered a man.
“Herr Schmidt? This is Frau Loeff. I have need of your services,” she said, crisp, professional. “I would like for you to come to my office and check it for me.”
“Check what?” Schmidt asked, almost patronizing.
“I said…my office,” she replied, but then realized there might be listening devices installed. Her stomach grumbled as her intestines churned. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“Frau Loeff. It is the end of the day. Might it wait until morning?” he asked.
“No,” she replied firmly. “I’ll need my office and my computer swept.” Then, without waiting for a reply, she ended the call.
Within the hour, Schmidt had arrived, dragging with him a large, wheeled trunk. Behind him walked a thin young man with dark, greasy hair and glasses. He carried a small plastic toolbox in one hand and—as if it were a delicate piece of art—a computer case tucked under his arm.
“It would be best if you weren’t in here while we did this,” Schmidt said as he set his trunk upright and collapsed the telescoping handle. “I wouldn’t want you to create a false positive.”
The sneaky way he said it made Loeff suspect he just didn’t want her looking over his shoulder while he worked.
“I’ll remain here,” she said firmly. There was far too much sensitive data for her to leave even a security specialist alone in her office.
Schmidt breathed in slowly and then released it. “As you wish,” he replied quietly before looking at the young man. “Dust the keyboard and the desk before you begin scanning the system.”
The younger man nodded and set about opening the large trunk, extracting a kit from a drawer near the bottom. Loeff watched him intently as Schmidt began slowly scanning the office with a wand.
“Do we need her prints to compare to?” the tech asked after several minutes of dusting and then lifting fingerprints from the keyboard and mouse.
Schmidt poked his head into the office. “No,” he replied. “She’s already in the system. Just scan what you found.”
Without a word or acknowledgment, he pressed the lifted prints on a card and then scanned them into the computer. The system flashed <
“All clear,” the younger man said. “Two smudged unreadables. All the rest are hers.”
“Good. Go ahead and scan the system now,” Schmidt said. “I’m almost done with the EM scan.”
The tech nodded and proceeded to plug his computer into Frau Loeff’s with a short cable.
“What are you doing?” Loeff asked.
“I am going to scan your system for any intrusion,” he said with a mild roll of his eyes, annoyed at being questioned.
“No. I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “I can’t let you connect another system to my computer…or use a storage device on it.”
Schmidt looked into the room as the tech squinted his eyes at Loeff. “Frau Loeff, he must have access,” Schmidt said. “
I cannot guaran—”
“He can scan from my system, and I will watch every action,” she said, raising her voice a bit.
The tech looked at Schmidt with shoulders and eyebrows raised simultaneously in a shrug. Schmidt nodded for him to do as Frau Loeff said. He exhaled in breathy disgust but then set his computer aside before taking a CD from his case.
“What is that?” Loeff asked.
“Scanning software,” he replied without looking at her.
He slipped the CD into the drive of Loeff’s computer and then looked over his shoulder at Loeff. “Password,” he said, clipped.
She gestured for him to move so she could type it herself. After entering it, she backed away with arms folded, standing over the tech’s shoulder. Her stomach continued to flux and gurgle uncomfortably.
After long minutes of waiting—wishing she were in the ladies’ room, tending to her malfunctioning intestines—the tech finally pulled the CD from her drive.
“I can find nothing that suggests your system has been compromised,” he said as he jotted down the last of his notes on a legal pad.
Schmidt looked up from his work, examining the office door lock with a macro lens. “Wi-Fi?” Schmidt asked.
The tech shook his head. “Of course, without doing a drive-to-drive comparison with a backup, or isolating all functions in a sandbox, there is no way to be certain…but there is no suggestion of any new or suspicious file additions or writing activity.”
She breathed out in relief. “You are certain there were no new files or programs added today?”
“Not today,” the tech replied, shaking his head. “Unless the system clock was altered.”
“How likely is that?” Loeff asked.
The tech looked at his notes. “Do you still have a Samsung Galaxy smartphone?” he asked.
She pulled her phone from her briefcase and then held it up. When the tech reached for it, she hesitated but then handed it to him. He proceeded to navigate to the phone’s settings, pulling up the sync log.
“You synchronized your phone to your computer today?” he asked.
Loeff nodded nervously.
“Then the system clock hasn’t been altered,” he said. “The synchronizing of time on both devices and the logs are identical…unless.”
“Unless what?” she asked.
“Well…an admin could go in and change the system clock before start up, make his alterations, and then reset it,” he said, staring at the phone. “But it would require multiple restarts and would probably leave inconsistent timestamps on other files that I would have seen.”
She stared at him blankly, bracing for an alteration in his diagnosis.
“Bah,” he said after a few long seconds, presumably after he’d worked through the process in his head. “It would take significant computer power to foresee all the log, time stamp, and reporting functionality when doing something like that. I wouldn’t worry about it unless you’ve pissed off the NSA recently.”
He laughed, but Frau Loeff turned slightly paler at the suggestion. Herr Schmidt stood in the doorway. “That’s his way of saying your system is fine,” he said reassuringly. “It is nearly impossible to imagine all the things a program touches when it is running. Garret’s program checks all the common fingerprints left behind by malware and quite a few uncommon ones as well…you are safe.”
Loeff breathed out again but noticed the tech shoot a worried glance at Schmidt. Schmidt shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“He would just feel more confident in the assessment if he were able to connect your computer and your backup to his system for a more complete scan,” Schmidt said dismissively. “But I understand your hesitancy. Your system is fine.”
She nodded. “And you? Have you found anything?” she asked.
“I found a slight residue of metal in your office lock,” he said, looking down and pointing at the doorknob. “As if a new key had been used on it recently.”
Loeff cocked her head to the side. “It is a new lock,” she said. “Only three weeks old.”
“Then no…I found nothing,” he said. “No fingerprints other than yours, no inconsistency in your alarm functionality, no prying of the locks, no radio emitters or other listening devices. It looks like the windows haven’t been opened in decades, and the firewalls between offices go all the way to the next floor.”
“So there is no possibility that anyone else was in here?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Schmidt replied. “But a lot of things would have to go wrong for that to happen.”
Loeff stared at him uneasily.
He held up his index finger and began counting off. “First, they would have had a key, been an expert lock pick, or climbed in through the heating vents,” Schmidt said. “I’m assuming you would know if another key had been made, and as cold as it is, the heating ducts would be an impossibility…the air pressure in that tight space would be too high and too hot to execute.”
She nodded.
“Next: they would have to know your alarm code unless you’d left it unarmed,” he added, bringing up the second finger. “And third, they would have left something on your computer, since nothing else in your office has been taken, altered, or bugged.”
She nodded her head again.
“Honestly, the only sort of organization that would be sophisticated enough to counter all of those obstacles would most likely be government, and they most certainly would have left transmitters around,” he said reassuringly. “I have found no indication that you are under surveillance of any sort.”
Her stomach suddenly began to feel better, and she straightened her posture. “Very good,” she said, relieved. “Thank you for coming.”
Schmidt blinked, staring at her a few seconds.
“You can go now,” she said, clipped. “You can send an invoice to the office.”
“Yes, of course,” he said as he and the tech began packing up their equipment. “You do realize there will be an after-hours charge.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she said dismissively. “Whatever is normal under these circumstances. But if you don’t mind. I’d like to close up the office and go.”
Schmidt and Garret finished packing their belongings and rolled their equipment into the hallway. Schmidt turned to speak, but Loeff beat him to it.
“Thank you,” she said, closing the door. “Good evening.”
She stood and listened for them to move down the hallway, the wheels on the large case squeaking all the way down the corridor. When she heard the elevator ding its opening, she turned and leaned against the door. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. The tension drained from her body as if a leak had formed in her feet.
“Damned security guard,” she muttered as she pushed herself from the door. “I’ll have him fired for causing me such distress.”
When she had finished tidying up behind Schmidt and his tech, she set the alarm and left the building. The most pressing thought in her mind: I deserve something special for dinner tonight.
**
3:35 p.m.—National Naval Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland
NICK HORIATIS walked into John Temple’s room after peeking inside to make sure he was alone.
“Hey!” John said with a broad smile. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
Nick grinned at the greeting and walked over, hand extended. “How’re you feeling today?”
“Ready to get the fuck outta here,” John said in a low voice as if he were speaking mutiny.
“Are they ready to let you go?” Nick asked, surprised by the vigor with which John was speaking and moving.
“Not yet,” John muttered. “But I’m not waiting another two weeks.”
“Don’t do anything that’ll make it worse,” Nick said. “Despite appearances, these Navy pukes seem to know what they’re doing.”
“Careful,” John said with mock warning. “Or I’ll make them discharge me
for kicking your ass.”
Nick laughed and held up his hands in submission. “Sorry…sorry.”
“What’s up?” John asked. “I know you wouldn’t come all the way out here just to check in with me.”
Nick turned and closed the door before sitting in the chair next to John’s bed. “I need your help on something,” Nick whispered.
“No problem,” John said with an ironic grin. “Just hand me my pants and boots and I’ll—”
“With Scott,” Nick interrupted.
A serious expression swept over John’s face, and he turned over on his side to get a little closer. “What’s happened?”
“Burgess released Scott to go solo, looking for the upstream fund sources,” Nick said. “He’s into something deep and has data I think will help us.”
“He hasn’t been sharing his findings?” John asked.
Nick took a deep breath and then released it, but it did nothing to diminish the tension in his chest. “He was,” Nick said finally. “Until Penny Rhodes was put on the project.”
“Why’d he stop after that?” John asked.
“Are you serious?” Nick asked. “After she snuck him off base and then couldn’t be accounted for when the camp was being attacked?”
“You think she’s dirty,” John said, grasping what Nick was alluding to. “And now Scott thinks she’s dirty too.”
“It’s the other way around,” Nick replied, somewhat defensively. “He’s the one who kept telling me I couldn’t trust her… I took it all with a grain of salt until the night of the attack at Peary.”
John shook his head. “Scott is smart as hell and, holy shit, he can read deception on a face better than anyone I’ve ever met,” John said quietly. “But he sees things almost totally black and white. If someone is lying as far as he’s concerned, it’s either because they are trying to protect or trying to do harm…no middle ground.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Penny is fine. You can trust her,” John said, abandoning his dissection of Scott. “Scott’s got the wrong idea about her.”