“Look, I know Dad. He’s not going to leave me alone until he gets his way.” Chris took a deep gulp of air. “Let’s just do this thing.”
This time, Harry met them at the marina. “Hi, Kiddo,” he called out, standing next to his British Racing Green Jaguar XJ-R.
Candace got out of her SUV and pulled the wheelchair out of the cargo area. “Come on, Chris. Let’s get this over with.” She rolled the wheelchair up to Chris’ door.
He eased himself out of the car and plopped down in the chair. His heartbeat sped up at the smell of the sea air, the cry of the gulls. It didn’t matter what Amy said, he allowed himself to be wheeled down the ramp to the floats.
The light breeze ruffled his hair. With Harry on one side and Sarah holding his hand on the other, Candace pushed Chris past the expensive yachts towards the end of the float. She stopped just short of a shiny new red sailboat.
His breath came faster. “Dad? That’s our slip. That’s the Defiant’s slip.”
Chris knew what was coming, but couldn’t process what he was seeing. For his entire life the Pacific Blue C&C 40 had lived in slip D-56. Instead, there was a fire-engine red Chesapeake 43.
“This is your new boat.” Harry lightly patted Chris’ shoulder.
“I don’t want a new boat. I can hardly walk. How can I sail? I never want to sail again.”
“You’ve got to get back on the horse.” Harry stepped in front of Chris and knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye. “This is the first step to getting control of your life back. You can’t let this throw you. She’s rigged for racing. I’ve already got a dozen associates at the firm who are falling all over themselves to sign up as crew. You’ll be the captain. I’m retired from racing. I’ll be there to advise you, but this is your show.”
Chris ran his eyes over the boat. She did look good. She was a couple feet longer than the Defiant. Chris had always been a sucker for redheads. Not quite as extreme a design, he thought. Less beam, plumb bow, wider transom, open at the rear end.
“I’ve never seen a boat quite like her.”
“She’s built in Annapolis, Maryland to an Italian Design. Rossi-De Luca. Absolutely top of the line.”
Chris stared at the boat, awestruck. The sleek red hull was topped off with teak decks. Twin stainless steel steering wheels filled the aft part of the broad cockpit. He could see the electric winches for the halyards and jib sheets. Her tall mast looked a little funny.
“What’s with the mast?” Chris asked.
“Carbon fiber,” Harry answered. “Half the weight, twice the strength. I special ordered it.”
She looked like a speeding Ferrari, just tied to the dock.
“Is she fast?” Chris couldn’t keep his eyes off of the red beauty.
“Greased lightning.” Harry smiled. “And there’s something else. . . I named her after you.”
Harry pushed Chris’ wheelchair forward until they could see the side of the new boat. There, painted in italic gold letters, were the words Courageous, Seattle.
****
“Holy shit, Dad.” Chris painfully eased himself down the companion way and looked around cautiously. “This is amazing.”
The Courageous’ cabin was drenched in cherry wood. The galley, to his left, had white Italian ceramic tile counter tops and splashboards with blue trim and a double stainless steel sink that accentuated the rich wood. The cabin floor was teak and holly. To his right, was the chart table and navigation station. The nav station was filled with electronic gear: GPS, radar, SSB radio, chart plotter and breaker panels. Tons of switches covered the space; all of the latest technology.
Forward of that, a dinette with deep sea green leather upholstery, filled the port side and a matching settee faced it to starboard. Book shelves lined the walls above both benches. A wine rack was built into the bulkhead to port. He looked forward into the owner’s stateroom in the forepeak.
A queen-sized bed filled the forward portion of the space with settees on each side, a head to port and hanging locker to starboard.
Behind him were two queen-berth cabins going back under the cockpit. He noticed thermostats in each of the cabins.
“I don’t get it, Dad, why all the thermostats?”
“She has a Webasto circulation furnace. There’s a furnace in the engine room that heats water and radiators carry it to each cabin to provide warmth. Each cabin can regulate its own temperature. It also provides a continuous supply of hot water for the shower and galley.”
“Wow! This makes the Defiant look like a garbage scow. How much fuel and water does she hold?”
Harry slipped onto the bench behind the dining table and put his arm around Candace. “She holds about the same amount of diesel as the Defiant, but she carries a hundred gallons of water, plus a water maker. That should be enough to make the passage to Hawaii.”
“Jesus, Dad. Are you really thinking about crossing the Pacific?”
“We could go anywhere. I’ve been thinking that when you get your law degree and take over the firm for me, Candace and I might finish that cruise you started up to Alaska. I’ve always wanted to sail down the coast to Mexico too, maybe all the way to the Panama Canal and cross over into the Caribbean.”
Chris couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his dad so excited about anything.
“How about it, Candy.” Harry squeezed Candace tight. “Are you up for a little cruise?”
“The salesman said I could get free sailing lessons with the boat.” Candace smiled at her husband’s enthusiasm.
Chris could see the wheels turning in Candace’s head.
“I could learn to sail,” Candace said. “Then we could go.”
“Yeah.” The words were out of Chris’ mouth before he could help himself. “I’d like to see you sail. You might break a nail.”
A hurt look flashed across her face, then she recovered.
“You might be surprised, big boy. Let’s head over to your Dad’s ranch in Montana and I’ll ride your ass off. I might teach you a thing or two about fishin’ and shootin’ too.”
Chris realized his mistake. He had to learn to let her be part of the family. “I supposed you might be trainable. If Dad could teach me, he can teach anyone.”
“Don’t forget about me.” Sarah sat on the companion way stairs. “I haven’t sailed since Mom died, but it might be cool to get back into it. I could be your deck ape.”
“Deck ape?” Chris laughed. “Are you nuts? You’re not big enough. The genny would lift you off of the deck in a twenty-knot breeze.” He swatted at his sister. “Uh.” He felt an intense pain in his left shoulder.
“God’s punishing you for disrespecting your sister.” She sneered at him.
Chapter 8
Donna took a deep breath as she pushed her cart down the long hallway at Millennium Systems. Her heart rate increased, she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears.
This was it. This was what the adrenaline rush was all about, what she had been working towards for three weeks now. Tonight she would finally get what she was after.
She stopped her cart in front of Terry Metcalf’s locked door. Taking the step stool off of the cart, she climbed two steps and dusted the security camera. With her feather duster, she lifted the ceiling tile, pushed the stop button on the mini-DVR and replaced the flash drive. This time, she pushed the play button.
She knew there would be a momentary blip on the screen in the security station. This was the tricky part. She hoped that the guards weren’t paying attention. They would see her unlock the door and enter the office. Only they would be watching last Tuesday’s recording. Everything depended on them not noticing the flicker on the screen.
Inside the office she climbed on her stool, lifted the ceiling tile and replaced the flash drive on the office mini-DVR. Once again she pushed the “play” button.
Donna let out a deep breath. She had ten minutes. Leaping lightly from the stool, she hurried back to the desk and flipped open the lap top. She i
nserted a device in the USB port and booted the computer.
The computer whirred and the light on the USB device came on. She was challenged for a user name and password.
Donna entered “sysadmin” and hit the “Enter” key. A box appeared on the screen that said
Breaking Password
10 seconds remaining
“Piker,” Donna muttered to herself. It took less than fifteen seconds to break the password. She removed the device from the USB port and slid in a flash drive. In a matter of moments she downloaded the entire contents of the laptop’s hard drive, then began poking around in the network.
It was easy pickings. Her target had a network share mapped to his laptop. Access was restricted by security policy to the owner, but she was logged in as the system administrator. She could do anything. She searched the share until she found the files she was looking for. She opened a Word document.
“How can such a smart man be so stupid?” She downloaded the contents of the folder to her flash drive and shut the laptop down.
Total elapsed time, less than four minutes.
She picked the locks on the desk drawers and found nothing of interest. She picked the locks on the file cabinets.
“Bonanza!” She lifted two files from the cabinets and spread the contents out on the desk. With a tiny digital camera she began taking pictures. Putting the files back in place and locking the filing cabinet she looked around.
When cleaning the office, she noticed that the carpet in front of the half-size book case showed an unusual wear pattern. With the surveillance cameras running, she hadn’t been able to investigate. Now she pulled at the edge of the bookcase. It swung freely away from the wall revealing a two-foot-square steel door with an electronic keypad on a raised steel disk, a small screen and a polished steel handle.
“A Baxter 2700,” she sneered. Donna cut her teeth cracking hi-tech safes. “What is this, Amateur Hour?”
Donna reached under the trash bag on her cart and produced another electronic device. She held it to the digital combination lock on the safe and pushed the button. The electro-magnet in the device clamped to the safe’s door. A series of numbers flashed on the screen, then the red light turned to green. She pulled on the handle and the safe door swung open.
“Loads of cash.” She put several bundles of hundred dollar bills on the floor. “A Beretta nine millimeter.” She removed a semi-automatic pistol. “Aha!” She took two flash drives from the safe. “Damn.” She had turned off the lap top already. She glanced at her watch. Seven minutes and thirty-one seconds. No time to re-boot and copy the drives. She put the money and gun back in the safe, locked it, pushed the bookcase back in place and dropped the flash drives into her pocket. I only hope he doesn’t miss these for a few days.
She took one last glance around the office. Nothing was out of place. She pushed her cart out of the door, positioned it exactly under the surveillance camera in the hallway using a small mark she had previously made on the wall and pushed a button on the remote control device she pulled from her pocket. She dropped the remote back into her pocket, gulped, put her hands on the cart and counted to herself. Now the surveillance system switches back to real time. The DVR in the office would switch back automatically when it reached the end of the file.
This was the second point of danger. “Thousand one, thousand two, thousand three.”
She pushed the cart down the hall and pressed the elevator button.
****
“Good, Chris, good. Keep going. Give me five more reps.” Amy stood in front of the Stairmaster, feet wide apart, and hands on her hips. Her attention focused totally on Chris.
God, she looks hot. Even in gym clothes. Chris pushed to do the extra five reps. Sweat ran into his eyes, thigh muscles about to burst.
“Keep going. You can do it.”
“Damn.” He was done. This hurt worse than getting shot. “Jesus, Amy. This is worse than waterboarding. Did you used to work for Homeland Security?”
“I’ve got to keep you moving. Look at how far you’ve come. When was the last time you had to use that wheelchair?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks now. I still get tired, but I keep going.”
“There you go. You’re a tough kid. Keep this up and we’ll have you looking like Conan the Barbarian in no time.”
Kid? He hated that she thought of him as a “kid.” Maybe she was a couple of years older than him, but he wanted her to see him as a man, not a kid.
“Thanks for working so late tonight. I really needed to get an extra session in this week.” Chris gently dismounted from the Stairmaster.
“You know, you really don’t need me for these sessions anymore. You can work out on your own and check in with me once a month.” Amy wiped the sweat from her brow with the white towel draped over her shoulders.
“I’m not ready to do it on my own. If I didn’t have to work out with you, I wouldn’t work out at all.” He leaned against the equipment and breathed in hard.
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.” She looked even hotter when the anger flashed in her eyes. “I’m not always going to be here. You have to do this for you. You can’t do it for me. I think you’re ready for the next step. It’s time for you to start running again.”
“Would you run with me? There’s some really cool trails at the Arboretum.” Chris drank the last sip of water from his Nalgene bottle.
She hesitated for a minute. He could see the wheels turning in her head. He held his breath.
She smiled and looked into his eyes. “Chris, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m not supposed to get involved with clients.”
“Who said anything about getting involved? I just want a running partner. If you run with me, it’ll motivate me.”
“Are you not listening to me? I said you have to do this for yourself.”
“Well, how about we go out for a Smoothie? There’s a new place that I’ve wanted to try a couple of blocks from here.”
“What part of ‘I don’t go out with clients’ don’t you understand?”
“We’re not going out. It’s late and you’re closing the clinic. You want a smoothie. I want a smoothie. If we just happened to go to the same place, it wouldn’t be like we were going out.”
She stopped and stared at him a minute. “You are a smoothie.” She smiled. “Okay, let me get my things and lock up.”
Ah–May-Zing, Chris thought. Why didn’t his tongue tie-up when talking to Amy? The link between his brain and his tongue always short-circuited when talking with pretty women. Amy was so easy to talk with; she didn’t intimidate him at all. Maybe it’s because she’s out of reach?
The chilly night bit into Chris’ bones as they walked down Yale Street toward Stewart. Amy had pulled on her ubiquitous sweats and Chris changed back into jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket. I wonder what she looks like when she cleans up. He hiked his gym bag a little higher on his shoulder.
“Look at the stores.” Amy stopped in front of a shop window. “They already have Christmas stuff up. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”
Chris took her arm and kept on walking. “It gets earlier every year.”
She fell in comfortably beside Chris.
“Here it is, Emerald City Smoothie.” Chris opened the door for her.
The clean, modern shop beckoned. A woman built like a body builder looked up from behind the counter and smiled.
“Okay, Mr. Smoothie, what did you have in mind?” Amy’s eyes beamed up at him.
“Something with lots of berries in it. I like strawberries, raspberries, oh, look. They have one with strawberries and bananas.”
They got their smoothies and sat at a table near the windows where they could watch the light nighttime traffic. There were almost no pedestrians at this time of night.
“Chris, I’ve got to warn you. I can’t get involved with a client. It could cost me my job.”
“I don’t want to get involved. I’m not intere
sted in meeting someone yet. It’s too soon.”
“Too soon? Did you just break up?”
“Worse than that. My fianc… my girlfriend…was killed.”
“Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry.”
“I just . . . I guess I kinda need to have someone I can talk to. I mean a girl. I have a sister. She’s been really great, taking care of me and all, but it’s different. And I have Ted, he’s my best friend in the world. But sometimes I just need to look into soft eyes, see that long hair and smell the sweetness of a woman. I’m sorry. I’m beginning to sound like a soap opera.”
“No, that’s all right. Really. I’m really sorry about your girlfriend. What happened?”
“She was killed by al-Qaeda terrorists in the same attack where I was shot. I lost my mom when I was fifteen. Then I lost Meagan. It seems like everybody I love dies.”
There was a long silence. Chris sipped at his smoothie. This wasn’t a good idea. He should know better. Here he was spilling his guts to this total stranger. Ted would tell him to “cowboy-up.” How pathetic was he?
“It might not be a bad idea after all.” Amy’s voice was soft and low.
“What? What might not be a bad idea?” He moved forward slightly in his chair.
“Running. Running with you. I need to get you running. Doing aerobic exercise. If you won’t do it without me, maybe I should run with you for a while to get you started.”
****
Donna heard the bong of the elevator and the down arrow lit up. The doors slid open. Two uniformed security guards stood in the car.
“Hi. You guys are working late tonight.”
They blocked her way into the elevator.
“Just a minute, ma’am.” The taller guard held out his hand. “We’re gonna have to search you.”
Donna’s blood ran cold. She felt the moisture spread in her armpits and on the palms of her hands.
“No. I’m late. I’ve got to go.”
“Just stand back from the cart, ma’am.”
What to do? How could she get out of this? Her mind froze. She didn’t think, she just reacted. Somehow, the .25 caliber semi-automatic pistol just appeared in her hand.
Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2) Page 7
