Killer App

by Mark Philipson

  TWENTY

  RALPH MESSAGED BRITT:

  Are you there?

  Here.

  We need to talk – face to face.

  Be right up.

  “What’s up, Blad?” Britt said when she came in the office.

  “I heard something through the grapevine you might be interested in.”

  “Oh … I’m listening.” Britt waited.

  “Not here.” Ralph mouthed the words.

  Britt and Ralph went down to the lobby and ordered a couple of coffees at the café. They sat at a small table in the corner.

  “Well,” Britt said. “What’s with all the cloak and dagger shit, Blad?”

  “You’ll find out in a few minutes,” Ralph said. A man stepped out of line and walked over. He set a cup of iced coffee on the table and sat down. He refused to give a name and didn’t ask for any.

  Ralph broke the silence. “Did you bring the prints?”

  The man set an envelope down and slid it across the table. “Be careful with those. Keep it low.”

  Britt unwrapped the tie string and pulled out a folded sheet of glossy paper. She shot a quick glance around the café. Britt lifted the sheet. It took a few seconds for what she was looking at to sink in. “I’ve seen these marks before,” she said, looking at the man.

  “That’s what I thought,” the man said. “The victim’s name is Margaret Montague. That’s all I can give you.”

  “We appreciate it,” Ralph said.

  “I’ll take the prints back now.”

  Britt folded the print and placed it in the envelope. The unknown contact grabbed it, pocketed it, stood up, and walked out.

  The elevator door closed. Britt and Ralph were alone. “Well, what do you think about that, Britt?” Ralph said.

  “I think we have a serial killer on our hands and I think we have to stop the perpetrator before the body count increases.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Ralph nodded.

  The door opened. Britt returned to her desk. Ralph rode up to the third floor.

  Britt kept a visual image of what she saw on the print in her head. It was all part of being a detective. She compared this to photographs of head wounds inflicted by the MarbleEyser. Britt adjusted the mental image to match the different perspectives on the screen. Same method? No doubt. Same killer? Not so sure.

  Britt messaged the lieutenant:

  Are you clear to talk?

  I can give you about 5.

  I’ll be right over.

  The lieutenant looked up when Britt stood in the doorway. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  Britt got to the point: “I have it from a reliable source there’s a fourth victim in this case.”

  “Not in this jurisdiction.” Lieutenant Trahan shook her head.

  Britt wouldn’t let it go. She took a chance. “The victim is local.”

  “How do you know that?” Trahan saw the slight grin on Britt’s face. “Okay … You got me.”

  “I saw that trick on a TV show … I guess it really works,” Britt said.

  “Right … wise-ass. This whole thing is on a need to know basis …” The lieutenant trailed off.

  “And I don’t need to know?” Britt finished the sentence.

  “Some people with a lot of pull are requesting this be kept under wraps.”

  The whole thing sounded like one of Ralph’s half-baked conspiracy theories. “How far do you want me to back off this?”

  Trahan didn’t answer. Her furrowed brow indicated to Britt she was thinking hard. “Magnusson, dig deeper on this.”

  “Got it.” Britt stood up.

  “Keep it quiet,” the lieutenant said.

  Britt paused and said, “Count on it.”

  * *** ***

  Britt entered some text strings in the search engine field. The syntax Ralph showed her returned the deep results conventional methods couldn’t. Margaret Montague was heiress to the Harville Montague estate. The entry ended there. Someone had made a big effort to erase Margaret Montague’s existence off the surface web. This looks like a job for Bladder Man, she thought. I’ll ask him later.

  “I need a favor,” Britt said to Ralph. She looked around the parking garage.

  “What is it?”

  Britt remained silent. “Let’s talk in the car,” she said.

  “Look who’s pulling the Spy vs Spy routine now,” Ralph said, easing into the passenger side. “What do you need, Britt?”

  “I need you to run a search on the dark web?”

  “Well, technically, the dark web isn’t accessible to conventional search engines.”

  “How do you navigate around?”

  “Most of the activity is done using encrypted URLS. Finding shit in the dark is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.”

  Britt looked over. “Any ideas?”

  “Names would be good … Social Security numbers better.”

  “I’ll see if I can come up with some names,” Britt said.

  “Okay, keep me posted.” Ralph got out of the car.

  Acting on a hunch, Britt reloaded the search she ran earlier that day when she got home. From there she was able to determine Staffman, Bringer, and Brascoe was the law firm handling Montague’s estate.

  Only one member of the team handling the estate was still alive. Clifford Brocton lived in West Palm Beach. Britt didn’t know it, but she’d just blown a big hole in the investigation by uncovering a lead that would point direction like a compass needle.

  Britt called Ralph. “I think I found a name,” she said right off the bat.

  “That was fast.”

  “What do we do now, Blad?”

  “We have to run the name on the thing I was talking about earlier─”

  “Let’s do it.” Britt cut in.

  “Hold on … it’s not that simple,” Ralph said. “We have to set up your computer first.”

  “My computer … Why?”

  “Because I don’t want my machine mixed up in this.”

  “All right. We’ll use mine.”

  “When do you want to do this?” Ralph said.

  Britt didn’t have to think about it. “Tonight.”

  “You’re sure this can’t wait, Britt?”

  “My gut is telling me to jump on this one.”

  “Okay, I’ll be over in about 20 minutes.”

  Britt ended the call. She took a quick shower and waited for Ralph.

  TWENTY-ONE

  RALPH PULLED A flash drive from his shirt pocket and stuck it in a port in Britt’s desktop computer. The technician located an icon and double-clicked. An installer program opened.

  Britt looked on. “What did you call this thing you’re putting on my computer?”

  Ralph turned to Britt as he stepped through the installation. “A VPN … Virtual Private Network. It encrypts the IP address of the host computer, in this case yours.”

  “The IP address is the unique identifier of my machine, right?”

  “Correct. The network server takes the IP, scrambles it, then hands it off to other servers around the world. Undetectable.”

  “And hiding it’s a good thing?”

  Ralph nodded. “For what we’re about to do … Yes. We need to keep a low profile on the part of the web we’re visiting. You can’t be too careful.”

  Ralph navigated to the flash drive when the VPN installation finished. He opened another installer program and followed the prompts. “Okay, we’re almost there. We have a secure network and the TOR browser. There’s just one more thing before we get going.”

  “What’s that, Blad?” Britt wondered what more there could be.

  “I need a piece of electrical tape?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Britt went into the laundry room and rummaged through a drawer. What could Blad want with this shit? She came back and set a roll of black tape on the desk. “One roll of electrical tape.”

  Britt watched Ralph pull off a small strip. He cut a piece off w
ith a pocket knife then placed the tape over the camera lens at the top of the monitor. “We’re good now,” he told Britt.

  Britt saw what Blad was doing with the tape, but it didn’t tell her why. “Do we have to do that?”

  “Well, maybe not. I’m old school, though. It’s a throwback to the days when cameras didn’t have an activity light and you couldn’t tell if your device had been hacked. Bear with me on this.”

  From the TOR browser, Ralph opened an email application. He selected a plus sign and started a new message. He typed in one line and shipped out the encoded text. The decrypted reply came back minutes later:

  What’s up?

  Ralph wrote back.

  I need you to run a search.

  Ralph and Britt waited.

  “Who are we talking to?” Britt said.

  “He goes by the handle Lone Ranger.”

  “Does the Lone Ranger have a real name?”

  Ralph shrugged. “Not one I know of.”

  “Have you ever met the Ranger?” Britt drew air quotes and raised her eyebrows.

  “Not face to face. We exchanged encrypted URLs three years ago. We’ve kept in touch since.”

  Britt was skeptical. She didn’t trust computers for that kind of thing. She preferred to know the person behind the screen before knowing the screen in front of the person. “Is this Lone Ranger dude reliable?”

  “So far, he hasn’t been wrong, Britt.” Ralph pushed his chair away from the desk. “If you don’t want to go ahead with this, we can back out.”

  Britt had no choice. She needed to get a line on Brocton. “Okay … go ahead,” she said. “Oh … by the way … what’s your handle?” She was curious.

  Ralph turned and said in a deep voice, “Vlad the Impaler.”

  “Okay …” Britt drew the word out, a big grin on her face.

  Ralph smiled. “I thought you’d get a charge out of that,” he said. “What else can you tell me about this Brockton guy? Full name, social security number, birthday … shit like that.”

  “All I have is his full name. He worked for the firm of Staffman, Bringer, and Brascoe for 20 years.”

  “That should be enough, if the data is accurate.” Ralph keyed in the information. When Britt verified it, he sent the message.

  Britt and Ralph waited for the attachment from the Lone Ranger to download. One hour and fifteen minutes later, the progress bar reached 100 percent. “We’re good to go,” Ralph said.

  “All right,” Britt scratched her palm. She was itching to get her hands on the report.

  “Wait … one more thing,” Ralph said. He cut the file and pasted it onto the flash drive.

  Britt made a face when she saw the file disappear. “Why did you do that, Blad?”

  “Are we done here, Britt?”

  “I guess so … If we have what we need … Sure.” Britt figured she’d check out the report and try again if it wasn’t what she wanted. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  “Then I need to do some clean up,” Ralph said.

  “What kind of clean up?”

  “I’m going to uninstall the VPN and the TOR browser and reformat your hard drive─”

  Britt cut in. “Is that necessary? Isn’t that going to take a while? I’d like to get started researching this Brockton guy.”

  “Maybe, maybe not … Like I said, ‘Old School.’”

  Britt was frustrated. She wanted to dig into the report and she didn’t want to wait. “Can I look at the file?”

  “Sure … as soon as I print it out.”

  “And that will be?”

  “Once I begin the reformat on this drive, I’ll print the file from the stick and clear it when I’m done.”

  Britt couldn’t argue with the logic of what Ralph said. The dark web thing was new to her. There was a ton of illegal activity on the dark side. If they had to go undercover, she was lucky to have Ralph guiding her through the process. Britt decided to let the technician call the shots. She’d wait for the printed report.

  TWENTY-TWO

  BRITT THOUGHT ABOUT the situation. She wanted to read that report and she didn’t feel like waiting. Solving this investigation had become her primary focus. It burned like a fire in her belly and spread to the tips of her fingers. If she could find one thread of evidence connecting all the murders she might be able to piece something together. Something leading to an arrest and conviction. Or, at least a suspect.

  “Couldn’t I download the report to my laptop. I could take wireless off.” Britt hoped this bit of technical information would help to convince Ralph.

  Ralph finished uninstalling the VPN and TOR browser. He closed the command line terminal and looked at Britt. “I’m used to moving in a certain direction at a certain speed and I’m not changing my ways now … Not when it comes to this shit.”

  Britt gave up. Ralph wasn’t giving in. She’d have to wait. “All right, you’re the tech boss, Blad.”

  “Thanks, Britt,” Ralph said. “I’ll run the print in a few minutes.” Ralph closed all the running applications on Britt’s desktop. He removed the flash drive and replaced it with another. From this one, Ralph booted an operating system and chose to format the hard drive. While the format ran, Ralph located a USB port on Britt’s printer. He used the onboard navigation to find the text file downloaded from the dark web. He ran the print, released the stick, and put it back in his pocket.

  Britt waited for the prints. Ralph took out his phone and tapped a contact. “I want to place a pick-up order for a pizza,” he said. “I’ll take a …” Ralph looked at Britt as he muted the phone. “You want some of this?” He said.

  Britt shrugged. She wasn’t too hungry but figured she’d eat. “I’ll take a couple of slices.”

  “I’m getting a large thin crust with pepperoni, sausage, and onions … any special toppings you’d like?”

  “I’m good with that, Blad.”

  “Excellent,” Ralph said. He wiped his brow. “I thought for sure you’d be into some kind of super nutritious Vegan monstrosity.”

  “Whatever.”

  Ralph finished the order and gave his name. “I’m going to leave in a few minutes.”

  He hesitated.

  “Okay.” Britt nodded, wondering why she needed to know that.

  “Could you loan me some money, Britt?”

  “Jesus, Blad … you’re a real piece of fucking work.” Britt handed Ralph a 20-dollar bill.

  “This should cover it,” Ralph said. He took his keys out and left.

  Britt put on a pot of coffee. While it dripped through she laid the pages out. On the second page Britt saw the first block of data connecting Brocton to the firm of Staffman, Bringer & Brascoe. He was hired by the firm after graduating from Virginia’s University School of Law. Brocton’s primary function was in estate cases. Over a 20-year period he assisted then supervised complex cases involving a multitude of national and international holdings.

  Britt read briefs outlining each case, the principals involved, and the outcomes. Most of it was standard stuff. Nothing stood out.

  An alert sounded at the same time Britt saw light spilling around the sides of the drapes on the picture window. It was a text from Ralph saying he was in the driveway.

  Ralph set a flat box and a liter of soda on the kitchen table. “Where’s your cutter?” He said.

  “Top drawer … knife bin.”

  Ralph flipped open the lid. The smell of a hot pizza pie filled the room as Ralph pushed the roller blade. Britt’s mouth watered. She hadn’t realized she was hungry. The smell of melted cheese and charred meta kicked it off. She left the report on the desk and joined Ralph in the kitchen. Britt put out two plates.

  Ralph opened the case he’d brought with him. He removed a portable computer and set it on the table.

  “That’s a nice laptop, Blad,” Britt said. She looked at the bright green LED edging and illuminated keyboard.

  “Thanks, that’s my Alienware 17 with an over
clocked GTX 1070 GPU,” Ralph said. He flipped the display and turned the unit toward Britt. “This baby’s loaded. My gaming machine.” The technician patted the track pad.

  “Do you two want to be left alone?” Britt raised one eyebrow and smiled. “I could go in the other room.”

  “Very funny,” Ralph said. He nodded slowly. “I figured I’d play some games while your computer does its thing.”

  “All right … works for me.” Britt took a big bite of pizza and washed it down with a couple of sips of coffee.

  Ralph opened an online game. Britt saw it was called Warlocks and Wizards. She didn’t know much about games, but, judging by the weird characters and creatures it was a strategic role-playing thing.

  Ralph put on some wireless headphones and logged in.

  Britt returned to the desk and leafed through the report.

  When Britt looked at page three she noticed Brockton was directly involved in the estate belonging to Harville Montague. Britt scanned the rest of the pages, looking for any references to the Montague case. She found nothing beyond the original article.

  “Hey, Blad,” Britt said, raising her voice.

  “No need for that,” Ralph said. “This noise cancelling headset is tuned to allow frequencies in the human vocal range to come in clear.”

  “Wonderful …” Britt rolled her eyes. Who gives a shit? She thought. “When can we get back on the dark web?”

  “I would wait a few days, but you could get back on as soon as the new operating system is up, and we have a different IP.”

  “And that’s not going to be for a while, right?”

  Ralph eyes followed the progress bar on the screen. “Right … I’d say another three hours. What do you need?”

  “I need to dig deeper into a certain case.”

  “Is it the Brockton guy?”

  Britt nodded. She thought for a few seconds then said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could get into hidden law records on the dark web?”

  This kind of thing fit right into Ralph’s conspiracy theory mentality. His eyes lit up as he pulled the headset off. “Right, like Dark Side of West Law.”