by David Caris
She had told the police what she was telling everyone else. She had no access to anything digital until the company’s IT systems were declared functional again – and not only functional, but safe to use.
She dropped down onto the sofa and placed the one call she had been waiting all night to make – a call to her father, Luther Curzon, at Pemberton Downs. It was early morning in the Central Australian desert and Megan had waited as long as she could to ensure she didn’t wake her father. Luther was supposedly clear of cancer, but she had her doubts. He had seemed off lately, as if really battling, and if he was managing to sleep in she wasn’t going to interrupt that. Not even for a global hack and a terror attack. She just hoped he had flown a doctor into Pemberton as she had now told him to do no less than three times.
‘How are you?’ she asked as soon as she heard his croaky voice from the other side of the planet.
He laughed. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘What a night you must be having.’
‘I have no idea what my next move is here, Dad. No idea at all…’ She hadn’t meant to sound so weak, so helpless, but the words just tumbled out.
‘If you don’t know, it’s no move. Which means you do know.’
She had to smile. ‘So I can hang tight? That’s what you’re telling me? The press wants my head on a stake.’
His voice remained perfectly calm, sharply contrasting her own. ‘Whatever you do next, you’ll only get to do it once, Megan. So for God’s sake, take your time. And don’t let fools with fancy communications degrees pressure you into a single damn sentence you don’t one-hundred percent believe in. I trust you’re not still at the office?’
‘I’m home.’
‘Good. Then you’ll be able to think. And sleep. What time is it over there?’
‘Late.’ This was all exactly what she needed to hear. She felt her lungs open up properly for the first time in hours, and she fought back tears as she nodded and said: ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s just my opinion. You’re in the hot seat now. Overrule me wherever you see fit. You’re Chairman and should be in title, too, and –’
‘I want to ease into it.’
‘I know.’
She wondered how the hell she would ever cope without her father. He said it was possible, that she would grow into this just as he had. But she had her doubts. ‘Kovac’s helping us,’ she said.
‘Excellent.’ Her father’s voice was surprised but full of relief, too. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘He’s exposed, so nothing more complex than self-interest. I got an email – with a photograph from the farm.’ She paused. ‘Is this line secure? Bishop said it was.’
‘It’s secure.’
‘I got a photograph of me, Daniel and Kovac as kids standing in front of the dam.’
‘The dam at the farm?’
‘Yeah.’
‘From?’
‘It was disguised as coming from our own IT staff.’
Her father was silent for a beat. Then he said: ‘I don’t see how they could get that from this hack. That information doesn’t exist on any server which…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Dad?’
‘No. It’s not the hack. Assume it’s from something or someone else.’
‘Who? Daniel?’
‘Bishop has Daniel well in hand.’
‘Then…?’ Megan asked.
‘I don’t know. But now you have the attack at the stadium, too. We have interests there, correct?’
‘Kovac was there. Bishop, too.’
‘At the time of the explosion?’ he asked, sounding alarmed.
‘Police want the footage.’
‘Do you have it?’
‘No. But nor does anyone at the stadium, so I’m assuming Bishop dealt with it.’
‘Good.’ Her father clucked his tongue and then repeated himself. ‘Good, that’s good. Then for now, it’s not a problem for you to worry about. Listen, for what it’s worth, there’s something of a playbook for a hack like this. You solve short-term, time-sensitive problems caused by the hack, while you plan for a rebuild of all networks. You can’t gamble on a resolution of any kind, so don’t waste time on it. There’s rarely a magic killswitch with these things, and even if there is – safe to say we’re not going to like the price.’
‘That’s the feeling I’m getting here, too.’
‘The sooner you get going with a rebuild, the sooner it’s done and you can –’
‘I know. Juliette’s here. We’re on it. And Kovac’s running down a longshot, just in case, but we’re not counting on it.’
Or counting on him ever coming back…
‘Ah, listen to me. Condescending as ever.’
‘Not at all.’
He coughed and cleared his throat, and she heard him thump at his chest before he said: ‘What’s your next move?’
‘A new, clean and private network for the Executive Leadership Team – hopefully one that will facilitate video conferencing.’
‘And then the same for the Business Leadership Team, presumably?’
‘Or phones in the worst case. Juliette’s been organizing expedited delivery of new laptops and phones, with instructions for configuring. That gets them connected to her, then she walks them through the rest of the setup.’
‘Good. When you have them all in a meeting, give it to them straight. They escalate to you only when they’re absolutely screwed. If it’s a flight that didn’t happen, passengers who are stranded, cargo that’s rotting, authorize them to throw money at it. As much as it takes.’
‘We can afford that?’
‘Who knows? It’s unquantifiable at this point. And we can fight it out in court down the line if need be. What we can’t afford right now is losing market share. Tell your teams to promise whatever they need to promise to keep clients happy, and if we can’t pay immediately we promise whatever they want until we can. Everything short of signatures on legal documents.’
‘Got it.’
‘I know you do. And though it probably doesn’t need stating at this point, you’re free to disagree with me on any or all of this. I’m just telling you how I would handle it if I were you. Clear?’
‘Clear. What else would you do?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I’d divide my time between two key objectives. The first is your health.’
‘My health?’ She hadn’t expected this.
‘Like it or not, you’ll be the public face of Curzon, and that will go beyond words. People will be scrutinizing every aspect of you as a whole. To pass that test, you’ll need sleep, you’ll need good food and you’ll need exercise. That’s where confidence and real control lie.’
‘First, conquer thy self,’ she said softly.
‘That’s right. Don’t let this swallow your routines. Don’t start into the caffeine or the booze, and don’t whatever you do stay up late gambling. Plan for a marathon, because that’s what this will be. You’ll be up against the media and they’ll be looking to trip you up every step of the way. Plan what you’re going to say and stick to your script. If you’re not ready for questions, don’t take them.’
‘And the other thing you want me focused on? You said two key objectives.’
‘Kovac. If you get even the slightest whiff of a way to put him on the offensive, do it. Send him after whoever’s doing this to us, and if you’re comfortable with it, authorize him to get the job done. We talked about this when Peng was coming at us.’
‘Everything within the limits of my own conscience, I know.’
‘Don’t underestimate him, or the lead he’s chasing down. Stay on him, and keep him in the fold at any cost. He might just get you out of this.’
She considered telling her father Kovac wasn’t returning calls, but held off. She would sort that out herself.
‘The press comes third. Talk to them when you want something from them, not before.’
Megan stood. Her ear was sore from pressing her phone hard to it. She crossed the
room to the large windows, now all speckled with rain. ‘There was one thing Kovac said.’
‘What?’
‘He said I didn’t have access to his entire file. Is that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll need that.’
‘I can’t get it to you. That information’s not online. Never has been.’
Megan was momentarily transported back in time, to her Gulfstream G600 as it began its descent down into Alice Springs. She had been traveling home from Manhattan when she first encountered the encrypted attachments detailing the existence of a “John Kovac”. She had not known he existed until that flight. That was the day her father announced a hitherto unknown assassin, quietly solving Curzon’s problems in the background, smoothing the passage of deals and mergers, and protecting the company against countless criminal incursions.
It felt like a lifetime ago…
London’s lights twinkled out beyond the glass. She listened to the foot traffic below, and the distant clattering of a train. There were more sirens than usual, and fewer vehicle engines. ‘You sent them to me,’ she said. ‘Remember? As encrypted attachments.’
‘That’s not the half of it. That version was heavily redacted. But I’ll look into some way of getting the rest to you as soon as possible. I’m just not sure I can, given the current threat level.’
‘Listen, Dad,’ she said, turning away from the window, ‘I have to go. But thank you. Honestly. This conversation has been… it’s just nice to know I’m not screwing this up as badly as I thought.’
‘A marathon, Megan. Remember that.’
‘I know.’ She realized the entire call had been about her and her problems, while her father fought a war of his own. ‘Just before I go, how are you doing over there?’
She heard a feeble laugh. ‘Me? Agh. We get through, Megan, and we never roll over. Remember that.’
‘I love you, Dad.’ Now there were tears in her eyes. She wanted to tell him everything. About Kovac and Bishop both going dark. Even about the naked man who had used her laptop to order food. But there were limits. Her father needed to be free of at least some of the job’s stresses. Otherwise, why step down?
‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ she said. ‘Give Lottie my love, too.’
‘We’re always here. Now get some sleep and hit it all fresh tomorrow.’
‘I will,’ she lied.
She heard the call click off at his end and she was momentarily at that end of the line, too. She recalled flying in on the helicopter before Peng’s attack. Close on an hour of flight time, giving her that phenomenal view of the 3,300 square miles of open plains, floodplains and wooded sandhills that made up Pemberton Downs. She would have given anything to be there with her father now. But that wasn’t possible. If he was there, she needed to be here in London, or New York, or any one of ten other major cities. Her life was jet cabins and concrete jungles, and she had no idea how long it would be before she once again saw the sprawling sandstone building her father was in, or the lush green lawn that surrounded it.
She imagined herself sitting on the historic stone fencing with Lottie, staring out into red desert.
Homesick, she thought, identifying the feeling and returning to the phone in the palm of her hand. She called out to Juliette. ‘Juliette, do you have another clean computer in there? Beyond the one you’ve given me?’
‘Yep.’ Juliette – through in Megan’s home office – sounded distracted, like she was on three calls at once herself. And this despite the team of five that had now joined her.
Megan grabbed the laptop from one of these five – a young man with glasses – and opened it. She downloaded Zoom and created a meeting invite, then, against her better judgment, emailed it to Nicholas. A man she hardly knew… A man who may well have stolen from her… Common sense said she needed to stay the hell away from Nicholas Shearing until she knew more. But she couldn’t help it. She needed to know if he would answer, if he would be the same or if he would feel off to her. She was sure she would be able to tell within a few sentences, particularly if she had him on video.
She logged into a Zoom meeting and waited. The time arrived and passed. Nicholas didn’t appear. She gave it five minutes, making herself a weak gin and tonic despite her father’s advice on alcohol.
Five more minutes.
She was about to hang up when his face suddenly popped up on the screen. He was all green-eyes and chiseled jaw, albeit with a little more stubble than she was used to. ‘Megan,’ he said with happy surprise, ‘I can’t say I was expecting to hear from you tonight?’
She took a sip from the drink then put it out of view and switched her own camera on. ‘Why not?’ she asked, hitting record.
‘Why not?’ He laughed awkwardly. ‘You must have half the planet wanting to speak with you right now? Are you recording this?’
‘Oh shit, sorry, yeah. I hit the wrong button.’ She turned it off.
He was on his phone, walking down the hallway at his house. She was staring up at him from beneath his chin now, everything jolting as he walked.
‘What are you doing right now?’ she asked.
‘Walking to get a beer while I speak with you. You want to visit? I have beer, wine, gin. Let me see, what else? Ah –’
‘I can’t. Not tonight.’
‘I completely understand.’
‘I just wanted to say hi, and… well, to say thanks for the other night. I enjoyed it.’
He brought the camera up to his eye line now and beamed at her. ‘Me too. We should do it again.’
‘We should. We definitely should. But…’
‘What?’
‘No, we should – I think I owe you, is all?’
‘For?’
‘The meal?’
It was a clumsy way to raise it. There was a momentary hesitation and she saw a flash of panic on his face. He spun the camera and she heard him open the fridge. Her heart hitched and she was about to shut off the call when he said: ‘Actually, no you don’t.’ He returned the camera to his face. It was all trepidation now. ‘Your payment details were in the app and I think I just used them sorry… I hope that wasn’t presumptuous of me?’ He exaggerated his embarrassment, clenching his teeth and widening his lips like a cartoon character.
‘Presumptuous?’
‘Yeah. Assuming you wouldn’t care about the cost of a meal because… well, you know, the whole billionaire thing.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Absolutely, that’s fine. I pay, you pay, it makes no difference. I was only saying that because…’ The conversation had turned painfully awkward. ‘Never mind.’
‘Because you wanted to owe me?’ he asked hopefully. ‘So we could do it again?’ She heard the hiss of the bottlecap coming off his beer.
‘Right,’ she said with relief. ‘Look, I have a million things to deal with tonight, but let’s talk again next week when things settle and you can make it up to me then, and we’ll –’
‘No, of course. I fully understand. And thanks for the call. That was… you know, sweet of you and…’ He shrugged and grinned, as if aware he had landed on a somewhat feminine choice of word. ‘Sweet of you,’ he said again, doubling down.
‘I’m a sweet girl. Just ask all the people I’ve fired. They’ll tell you.’
‘I’m sure you’ve hired just as many, if not more.’
‘More,’ she conceded. ‘Listen I really do have to go.’
He nodded. ‘Take care and best of luck tonight. I noticed in the papers you’ve got a lot going on? I hope everything’s alright?’
‘Thanks,’ she said, ducking the questions before hurriedly ending the call and immediately logging into her Uber Eats account.
It didn’t take her more than a few seconds to find the answer she was looking for. She was right. She hadn’t paid for the meal. There wasn’t even a record of it.
Which meant it was all as she remembered it – he had paid.
She had just caught Nicholas Shearing in his first l
ie.
Chapter 21
Kovac would almost certainly have lost his Neanderthal, were it not for the man’s decision to try and clamber over a pile of rubble. The move avoided a chain-link fence and, at first, looked like a good idea. The man started out fine, too, skipping over brick, aluminum and broken plywood. There wasn’t any sign of an injury from the jump off the roof, which Kovac found deeply dispiriting. He’d seen jumps from half the height result in compound breaks, with bones sticking through skin and blood everywhere.
Not his Ninja Neanderthal though… The man was at it again, now scrambling up a small mountain of building trash.
The man’s luck only gave out when he reached a large section of wall. This wall had been torn from one of the apartments and dumped at a steep angle on the side of the building trash. So steep, the man had to run up it using both feet and hands. He slid at one point, and one leg slipped through an empty window in the wall. The leg obviously struck something sharp, because he let out a yelp.
Kovac was feeling better. He had some blood in his mouth and he was still somewhat winded, but nothing that wouldn’t clear up. He chose to go over the chain-link fence rather than over the pile of building rubble. He was still slightly bent from the attack on his midsection, and he found the fence took all the strength he had, but once he was over he began to rate his chances again. The man’s leg had blood on it, and Kovac figured there had been glass shards in the window’s frame.
Kovac rested up, aware the man now needed to find his way down. Whichever direction he chose, Kovac could circle around and be ready for him. Though it would involve that chain-link fence every time… The chain-link fencing unfortunately abutted the construction debris on each side. It actually ran a ways into the debris, almost as if the debris had been dumped on top of the fence.
The man remained on his floodlit mountain of trash. He squirted spit through his teeth, straightening up on a large chunk of concrete walkway. This chunk of walkway had been dropped atop the pile, and it marked the summit. It had embedded, twisted railing, which the man now gripped as if at sea.
