“Morrígan?” Nathan asked with a frown.
“The formula I mentioned we were monitoring,” Cassandra explained. Before he could inquire any further, she continued to question Matt. “You said I wouldn’t believe it when I saw it. Saw what? You have video surveillance?”
Matt opened a big grin. “Oh yes, I do.”
Turning back to the computer, he pulled up with a few quick keystrokes the surveillance video captured over night. On the video, a female of slight build, average height, and shoulder-length honey-blonde hair entered the server room. She approached the main terminal, looked up as if searching for cameras, and then sat in front of the computer. She definitely hadn’t counted on the built-in motion activated pinhole camera in the monitor.
“Who is she?” Cassandra studied the woman’s facial expressions and picked up on the slight hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, indicating she was pleased with what she was about to do. “She looks giddy.”
“Her name is Allison Davis,” Jessica spoke up, giving Cassandra what information she had compiled on her so far. “Has been a top employee for more than five years. No associations with any other pharmaceutical company. Credit check is perfect. Parents. Married sister. They all live in the area. No disclosed personal relationships. The classic loner.”
Cassandra’s frown deepened with each added piece to the puzzle. “Why would a quiet mouse like Allison Davis steal a multibillion-dollar formula? Somehow the pieces just don’t click. Whose credentials did she use?”
“Steve Baylor. He’s away on vacation.”
Things still didn’t fit together. “We need to interview him when he gets back. Have you tried to locate Allison?”
“I was about to when you walked in,” Jessica answered right away.
“Do it now. We don’t have a lot of time. She might already be out of the country for all we know.”
****
After a few hours of work netting zero results, Cassandra sent a tired Jessica and Matt home. There was nothing they could do at this point. Working on no sleep and gallons of caffeine wouldn’t help them in any way. Maybe once refreshed, they could pick up the lead again.
Nathan was still hanging around while Cassandra pulled together the details needed for the report for Bristol. Her chest ached and her head pounded. She dreaded the outcome of that particular meeting. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders and began to type.
Nathan listened to Cassandra’s fingers pounding the keyboard. Glancing across the room, he caught the determined look on her face. He knew that look—she was blaming herself for the mess.
“What are you up to Cass?”
“Shit, I don’t know. Chasing the rabbit down a hole for all I know. There has to be something. There just has to be a trail we can pick up.”
“Let me go over your project file for you. Maybe there is a minor connection you might have missed. You should go home at get some rest. Come back in a couple of hours.”
Cassandra hated his condescending tone. “No. I’m staying, you go. This isn’t your issue. You’ve been a big help.” She glanced in his direction. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Nate took the hint. Cassandra was pushing him out and he didn’t want to press his luck. “Okay. Leaving. But make sure you call me,” he said, knowing the minute the words left his mouth that she never would.
He paused on his way to the door and walked back to where she sat. Turning her chair so she faced him, he leaned down toward her lips whispering, “Houston, we have a problem.” Cassandra must have sensed his intent because she turned her head at the last minute. Instead of the sweet contact of lips he was expecting, Nathan’s mouth connected with her cheek. Frowning slightly, he pulled back, pretending not to notice her avoidance, and asked, “Care to let me out?”
“Damn. Hold on a second.” Picking up the phone, she called Kelly, who had been in the building for the last hour or so. “Hey Kel, can you call a cab and then come by the data center? I need you to escort a friend of mine down. The cab is for him—Nathan Nelson.”
Nathan watched as Cassandra fidgeted. She appeared anxious to get rid of him, adding to his suspicion she was giving him the cold shoulder, as if last night had never happened. “Will I see you later?” He asked, hoping he was wrong and that it was only the stress of the case dampening her reactions to him.
Cassandra sighed. With a tired voice she responded, “I don’t know how busy I’ll be for the next few days, Nate. I’ll call you when I can, okay? You’re here till the end of the week, right?”
Her expression didn’t give away much. She was really good at that whole psych shit they’d learned at the Farm. He knew he wouldn’t get any more out of her if she didn’t want to disclose it, so he backed off. “Yeah, I am. Okay, then. Call me when you can.” He squeezed her shoulder gently and headed to the door where Kelly already waited to accompany him to the lobby.
****
Cassandra ran her fingers through her hair and scratched her scalp vigorously before slumping back in her chair. “There has to be something. No matter how small…” she mumbled under her breath. She swung her chair back and forth while filtering through the various options in her head. She had checked and rechecked the system several times and still couldn’t find a trace of an infiltration. More and more it looked as if the employee had worked alone. Damn. She went to the breakroom to grab a cup of coffee and clear her head.
Moments later, she was back at her desk. Frustrated, she strummed her fingers on the desktop with one hand while the other rubbed along the outline of the scar through her skirt. The facts about the case lined up in her mind. Matt had been able to verify that all the project files had indeed been copied by Allison Davis. She hadn’t showed up again for work. A search of her office showed that all personal items were also missing. She had flown the coop.
Cassandra could not let it go. Allison was not in the list of employees with access to the formula and all the ones that did have access had been checked. She had not found any trace of deception during their interviews. Had she failed to cover all bases and take into account the fact that most pharmaceutical industrial espionage was committed by employees of the companies? Was Steve Baylor in on it?
Yawning, she looked at the clock. It was midafternoon and she was exhausted. The stress of the last twelve hours had left her drained. Her brain had turned to mush and she craved sleep. Cassandra logged off the system and left a message for Jessica and Matt to let them know she had gone home. As she was leaving the War Room, her cell vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and spotted a text from Nathan. Hey Cass, find anything yet? Let me know how I can help.
She was torn. She could really have used his help, but she also didn’t want to encourage him because she knew he would read more into it. She had seen the look he’d given her when she introduced him as a friend, but had chosen to ignore it. A blunt conversation was on the horizon, but at the moment, it would have to wait. She had bigger fish to fry—hunting down Allison and the copied files.
****
Back at home, Cassandra sent Caldwell a request for his help in getting her onsite visitation to EXClinic so she could review their current security protocols for the flaw that might have allowed the breach to happen. She didn’t tell him the real purpose of the visit—to retrieve copies of the system logs—because she didn’t want to give anybody the time or chance to tamper with them. Once the email was sent, she stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed to finally give in to the exhaustion beating at her.
It was still the middle of the night when Cassandra’s eyes slowly opened. She lay in bed, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness in the room. Disappointment was a bitter taste in her mouth and the events of last the few days a reality. She rolled over and looked at the clock, noticing the message light on her answering machine blinking like a rapid heartbeat. I must have been out like a light. Didn’t even hear it ring.
Pressing the button, her father’s voice came over the sp
eaker. “Cassandra, I just received a call from Caldwell. You have been set up with an ID and security access at EXClinic.” Damn. Not good. Caldwell went through Bob instead of directly to me. “I hope this means that you’re about to clean up this mess.”
Cassandra flopped onto her back again, flung her arm across her face, and buried her eyes in the crook of it. Her other hand rubbed back and forth along her chest. Her heart was held in a vice grip that had grown tighter and tighter at the disappointment in her father’s voice, which had filled the room and still echoed in her ears.
She retraced their steps from the time she had been handed the project up to when the files had been copied. They had followed all protocols and covered all bases. Nobody could have foreseen that twist of fate. So typical of her life since her mom’s passing. Every positive achievement derailed by something out of her control. It was like being stuck in quicksand, struggling to get out of that vicious cycle.
Cassandra itched to get her hands on EXClinic’s logs. Her gut told her Allison wasn’t working alone. She hoped to squeeze in a visit with Steve Baylor, the employee whose credentials Allison had used, and maybe find some pattern—something to indicate someone else might have been involved. While Jessica searched for Allison’s trail, she would be digging for breadcrumbs in the log files. Something would pop out at her—it had to. With her strategy planned, Cassandra set the alarm and curled on her side drifting back to sleep with the mantra, I will make it right, playing over and over again in her head.
Chapter Six
The Morrígan
It was another day in the giant Crypto City complex located off Interstate 95 between Washington and Baltimore. The NSA sucked up 650 million intercepts a day from satellites, ground stations, aircrafts, ships, and submarines around the world; its analysts chased patterns that might lend seemingly ordinary words significance in the war on terrorism. Sitting across from George, Trevor focused on his screen and the chatter flying across it. He and every single analyst in that room needed to be careful screening the data. The tricky part was to avoid flagging harmless conversations as threatening, and vice-versa. They were also on the lookout for important and dangerous conversations masked as trivial. It was Trevor’s personal opinion that while knowledge and skills were crucial, sometimes you had to go with your gut instinct.
Aside from having a knack for picking up on minute nuances that could break a case wide open, Trevor was also one of the NSA’s top infiltration and geolocation specialists, and his assistance was always in demand by operation handlers from various departments.
“Hmm…interesting….” he overheard George mumbling at whatever he was screening on his monitor.
“What?” Trevor asked out of habit.
“Remember that missing formula case I was handed last week?” George looked at Trevor through lenses of his black-rimmed glasses, his bright green eyes sparkling with excitement like they always did when he had an interesting case on his hands.
“Yes. I remember.”
George had mentioned the case a few days back, when information about a theft had been picked up via their regular surveillance and flagged due to poor word choice used during the communication between the people in charge of the formula’s security. Since 9/11 the word “bombed” and any other word associated with explosives had been pushed to the top of the keyword list for flagging. Although the people in this case were referring solely to how badly someone had botched the job of securing said formula, their conversation had ended up in the queue and flagged nevertheless.
A frown creased Trevor’s forehead when he looked over at George. “How can a missing formula be interesting? It’s not like you’re investigating the kidnapping of a public figure.”
“Well…in this case the formula is apparently being treated like a public figure.” George cocked his head, reading through the scrolling data, and continued, “The formula was in an advanced trial phase when it was copied from the servers of the company that was managing the trials.”
George narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the document in front of him, and continued to fill Trevor in. “It’s supposed to be a revolutionary anti-aging drug. It appears that it was an insider job, based on the conversations I picked up after that. That’s what’s really caught my attention. It sounded like a Ludlum novel. You know, insider job, frantic security people, The Morrígan….” George sported a small smirk and shook his head, but Trevor’s head jerked and his mind went into overdrive at the shock of hearing that name mentioned.
“What did you say?” he asked, trying not to sound spooked.
“Ludlum novel? You know…Bourne Trilogy guy?” George appeared totally oblivious to Trevor’s change of tone.
“No, no, the name you said last, after Ludlum,” Trevor stumbled on his own words.
“Morrígan? That’s the codename given to the formula during trials. Why?” George looked puzzled by the expression on Trevor’s face. “You don’t look well buddy. Feeling sick?”
“No reason. No. Did you know that Morrígan is a goddess from Irish mythology? I guess I was just surprised to hear her name.” Trevor’s thoughts and questions swirled like twin twisters in his head. What he didn’t say was that The Morrígan was also the name of his parent’s yacht. The same yacht they had disappeared from almost four years back. Here it was again, showing up in connection with what appeared to be a very important pharmaceutical formula.
A coincidence? Or could the two be connected in some way? Was this the clue he so desperately needed in order to break his parents’ case wide open?
Hoping for more answers, Trevor made a quick decision to review the files once George was done with them. While unlikely, there was still a chance that George had overlooked something that would be meaningful to Trevor. He knew George was careful with his work, but it wouldn’t hurt to double check. Whatever the outcome of his dabbling, it would help Trevor decide whether or not the case had any merit and if it was tied in any way to his own personal nightmare.
If there turned out to be a connection, however small, Trevor’s plan was to try his hand at infiltrating the companies’ servers to look for any speck of digital trace he could find. The new clue energized Trevor. After months of futile searches and digging, he now had a possible lead—a breath of life in his stale quest.
Trevor surfaced from his musings and gave George his undivided attention. “What do you mean by inside job?” He kept his tone casual and dug for more information. “Do they know who took it?”
“Based on the latest intercepts, I think they do.” George continued his analysis, unaware of the scowl on Trevor’s face.
“How the hell could an insider walk to the server, steal the files, and leave the building without being caught?” Trevor asked, more to himself than George.
“I don’t have all the details. I took a deeper dive for additional information so that I could unflag that thread. It doesn’t seem like something we need to worry about.” George eyed Trevor with concern again. “Are you sure you’re not sick? Your eyes are glassy, man. I’d see a doctor if I were you. Don’t want to catch any weird viruses from you.”
Trevor laughed at George’s comment and pretended to dismiss the case as if he didn’t care, but it stuck with him. The whole story stunk. In this new digital age, there were ways to safeguard a server against external infiltration, but those measures were only as good as their enforcement.
In theory, every computer was hackable to a certain degree. But in this case, nothing could’ve been done to prevent it, as whoever infiltrated the computers had done so physically. As much as the companies liked to think they did their due diligence in screening employees holding high clearance positions, humans were fallible. Life took its twists and turns and, for the right price, normally law-abiding, dedicated employees could be enticed to jump ship, to become traitors and criminals.
Many cases of trade-secret theft in the pharmaceutical industry had peppered the news over the last ten years. It wouldn’t be anything
new if it turned out that one of the scientists working on the Morrígan had decided to go for extra bonus pay by copying the files for a competitor. Trevor didn’t care about the theft itself; that was none of his concern. His curiosity lay in the origin of the formula’s chosen codename.
They spent the rest of their work day on individual assignments, but as always, used each other as sounding boards for ideas, sharing new techniques on how to gather the most information using the latest groundbreaking technology available to them. And they, most certainly, had the latest everything in surveillance equipment and software at their disposal.
Trevor always enjoyed his conversations with George, but, for once, Trevor’s mind wasn’t completely focused on it or the job at hand. It repeatedly returned to the Morrígan, making for a very frustrating and anxious day. He wanted the day over and done with so he could pursue the carrot dangling in front of his nose. Hiding his preoccupation was hard and the day dragged on slower than usual.
At noon, George stood up and stretched. “Are you going home for lunch?” he asked. On sunny summer days, Trevor typically liked to get out of the building and into the fresh outdoors. He usually rode his bike home for a quick lunch. But that day was different. His mind was anchored to the idea of getting into the intercepts George had mentioned and pulling everything he could find on the Morrígan.
“Nope. I need to locate and tap a new target for Charlie.” He gave the first excuse he could come up with, knowing George would remember the FBI agent who had paid them a visit the day before. “I also have that transcript from that terrorism case to analyze for the CIA. They want it yesterday, the buggers.” Trevor added. Not totally untrue. He did have all that on his task list, but they could be dealt with at his own pace.
He hoped George would take his time at lunch checking in on the new girl, Jennifer, from Cryptography. George had been mooning over her the last few weeks and had been spending long lunches trying to sweet talk her into visiting the control room.
Countermeasure (Countermeasure Series) Page 7
