by Roddy Wix
Anya answered a gentle knock on her door expecting to see Edward Pendleton with a cup of tea on a small silver tray. Instead she found Jorge Aguierra with his riveting dark eyes, handsome face, and electric smile. She’d been working nearly all night and immediately became self-conscious about her appearance.
“Good morning, Dr. Kovich.”
“Uh, good morning.”
“I’m sorry if I am intruding. Edward is out and he instructed me to bring you tea at seven thirty.” Jorge held up a tray with tea, fresh biscuits, and some orange marmalade.
“Oh, no, but I worked most of the night. I must look awful.”
“Not at all, Doctor. If I may say so, you are quite the opposite.” He turned the smile up a notch.
“Eres muy amable, Senor Aguierra.” And you’re also very good looking.
Jorge nodded and delivered the tray to a small table on the narrow balcony overlooking the ocean.
“Muchas gracias.”
Anya followed him and seated herself at the little wicker table
“Danada. Pudeo ofrecerte algo mas?”
“No, gracias. He estado comiendo mucha comida deliciosa en la Colina del Leon.” And, if I keep eating this way a man like you would never give me a second glance.
“Yes, the food is excellent here. Doctor, you speak Spanish quite well.” Jorge’s bright smile widened as he spoke.
“Languages are a hobby of mine. With no social life hobbies come in handy, Senor Aguierra.”
“Eso va a cambiar. Eres muy Hermosa.” That will change. You are very beautiful. His smile and soft eyes captivated her.
“A vy krasyvyy cholovik.” And you are a beautiful man, she whispered in her native language.
Jorge's eyes betrayed his understanding of her remark, but Anya didn't notice. She sipped her tea and tried to recall when she’d last been with a man or thought of one in that way. Karl died more than three years earlier. Perhaps the time had come to start thinking about returning to a normal life, and Jorge Aguierra would be an excellent place to start. Serge Malroff had deprived her of enough although he had paid her decently and she discreetly re-invested the funds in well-protected Swiss accounts. She may be a refugee, but one not entirely without resources. The thought of her secret nest egg and the progress she’d made on her project buoyed her spirits. A smile parted her lips as she enjoyed the sun, the sea, and the promise of a new life in California.
After tea she bathed and dressed in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt selected from the clothes Elisabeth had sent to her room. Fortunately for Anya the two women wore the same size and Lady Hartwell generously shared her wardrobe.
Refreshed, she picked up her computer and went back to work. She was angry with herself for having taken so long to realize she was looking in the wrong place. The code the Rusikov brothers sent to Grosserkopf, Haslich & Archloch was what they used to call a “red herring”. They had been lured into wasting time while all along the real threat remained embedded in the stock exchange’s computer system. The decoy carried the primary code in and then destroyed itself after depositing a brilliant and dangerous virus. And Serge Malroff paid those two twenty-five million euros for a useless piece of work. To Anya’s way of thinking he deserved to be cheated, though she now realized he would gladly kill her for her failure to identify the hoax. She thanked God for helping her get away when she did, then found herself wondering just how far Serge's reach extended. To California? Could she ever feel safe as long as he lived?
Pushing her fears aside she made a few keystrokes and traveled back inside the NYSE’s computers. After several hours of searching she located the string of code. The task would have been longer, but she had a detailed outline of the system architecture she’d found among Karl’s private files. She spent the better part of two more hours analyzing the elegant little program and mapping out a rudimentary defense against the Rusikovs’ implant. She code named the impressive virus "Intruder”. Designed to remain dormant until someone goaded it to wreak havoc, "Intruder" then returned to hibernation mode and awaited instructions to repeat the process.
Anya was impressed with the brilliance and seeming simplicity of this work but she was also respectful of its creator. It would be unwise to take anything for granted. In her mind whoever wrote this code was nothing short of magical. The activator code remained a mystery, but she created a means of isolating Intruder from external instructions to do its sinister job, or so she hoped. Her firewall merely cut off communications while doing nothing to modify “Intruder” itself. That would take her weeks of intense effort at minimum.
As Anya's familiarity with "Intruder" grew she realized how the virus resembled one her husband had described to her in detail. He’d received it from someone he met in cyberspace who went by the pseudonym “Suspicion”. Karl believed “Suspicion” to be the most talented hacker he ever encountered. He regarded this mysterious person as “Incredibly powerful, almost a magician.” Apparently he sought out worthy opponents and challenged them to overcome codes he had written. Karl was trying to work out a defense against one of Suspicion’s viruses at the time of his death.
Anya felt exhilarated but happy to reach a temporary stopping point in her efforts. She saved her files on a fresh thumb drive and dropped the little device into her pocket. She was anxious to share her news with Elisabeth and Gabe Bowman. Then, another unsettling notion struck her.
If the Rusikovs were brazen enough to cheat a man like Serge Malroff out of a fortune they must also have had a plan for Intruder. Who would they try to sell that little bomb to? It made no sense for them to keep Intruder solely to manipulate markets for their own benefit. This thing had the potential to be a weapon and nowadays weapons of that magnitude had become priceless to a growing list of unsavory characters. All the more reason to disappear quickly into the landscape of northern California.
Even as she called Gabe her excitement was tempered by an unresolved notion that kept turning over in the depths of her brilliant mind. Some important dots remained unconnected and she was compelled to continue trying.
Her conversation with Bowman was brief and he seemed delighted.
“I will make all travel arrangements and be back in touch with you late today. You’ve done an outstanding job, Anya.”
“Thank you, Gabe. I believe I’m on the right team for the first time in a long while.” As she said the words Anya felt the weight lifting from her shoulders. Her fresh start was just around the corner.
“I’m pleased to hear the good news. I need a couple of days to transport you from the island, but meanwhile I want you to relax and enjoy your time at Lion's Hill. The estate is beautiful and I envy you. I know Lady Hartwell will be pleased to have you as her guest.”
“It's wonderful here, Gabe, but I am anxious to get started in California.”
“And you will, very soon. I assure you every possible precaution is being taken to ensure your safety.” He saw no reason to upset her by elaborating on how seriously.
“Thank you again, Gabe. I appreciate your concern, and I’m sure I will enjoy remaining at The Lion’s Hill a little longer.” Perhaps I'll have a little time with Senor Aguierra.
She was beginning to sound steady once more.
“By the way, you might want to familiarize yourself with the history and background of MIT. It may come in useful in your new life.”
“OK?” Now she sounded confused. Gabe laughed.
“I know I’m being cryptic. Just trust me.”
“I already have: with my life.” Her voice was clear and cheerful, but her words were sobering to Gabe Bowman.
“I will not let you down, Anya. None of us will, I promise.”
“Thank you. See you soon.”
“Yes. Bye for now.” Gabe only lived on the fringes of “spook world” and rarely came close to physical danger. He did not take Anya’s words or his promise to her lightly.
45.
