by G. K. Parks
“How do we bypass it?”
“This is theoretical, but I don’t think we can. However,” Bastian skimmed through the blueprints until he located Porter’s office, “they’re watching him. Just to get into his office is like entering Buckingham Palace. You remember the security measures in place.”
“Your point?” Mercer asked, losing patience as the minutes ticked by.
“They didn’t like it when we were on that floor or inside his office. They escorted us to and from the door.” Bastian cocked his head to the side, assessing the diagram. “If he reviewed it on his office computer, the data might be on his hard drive.”
“They would have deleted it. They don’t trust him.”
“They don’t trust us either, but it could still be on his computer. Even after a deletion, information lingers. It’d be the easiest way to access it.”
“Will you be able to copy it?” Mercer asked.
“I can’t say for certain but probably. I need to see it in person which will be far more complicated now that Trila’s head of security has banned me from the building.”
“I can handle him.” Julian looked at the computer rendition. “We’ll have to go after hours with Logan in tow. He can get us inside.” Cognizant of the need for an alternative plan, Mercer posed the next question. “What if it’s been wiped off his system or he didn’t review the data on his computer?”
Bastian pointed at the screen. “This room has a palm scanner, keycard mechanism, and according to the trackers you planted, not a single guard entered that room. I’d wager they don’t have access.”
“So what?”
Bastian smirked. “Based on the blueprints, it consumes a lot of energy for such a small space.” He toggled the images to show heat signatures. “It’s slightly colder than the other areas of the building. It must be temperature controlled and is roughly the size of the server room.”
“It’s a back-up,” Mercer said.
“That’d be my guess.” Bastian pulled up the power usage for the building. “That room runs hot, just like the basement. No other parts of the building use that kind of energy, and they wouldn’t waste time with the high-tech security measures if it was of no consequence.”
“Assuming the protocols are stored on their internal servers, can you access them?”
“I’d have to do it in person, and the files might be encrypted, corrupted, or otherwise unreadable, depending on the level of security. It’s Trila, so I’m assuming something top-notch, like a kill program that destroys the information when it’s not accessed properly.”
“That won’t help us,” Mercer said.
“I thought the plan was to buy time to rescue Sarina. Alpha is going to kill her either way, Jules. Frankly, I’m pretty sure he plans to kill us too. I don’t think we should give him what he wants.”
Mercer stared at the computer screen. “What if we fake it?”
“The end result would be the same as giving him a steaming pile of rubbish,” Bastian said. “I could probably borrow some code from a program or two, but if we don’t know what it’s supposed to do, it won’t look real. And you know he’s going to check it at the exchange.”
“Then we need a convincing bluff.” Mercer checked his watch again.
“Trila had one attempted break-in two years ago,” Hans said, returning to the room. “The intruder was killed on-site. The police ruled it a justified shooting, and the report doesn’t detail anything else.”
“Trila paid off the authorities,” Bastian said. “They can do whatever they want which means they’ll use lethal force to deal with us as well.”
“Since when does a gunfight scare you?” Hans asked. He sat across the table from them and looked at the printed photos of Trila’s exterior. “Employee entrance is inside the parking garage. That’s why they monitor the area around the clock. There’s also an emergency exit. It’s a stairwell that opens up at the back of the building.” He flipped through the photos, finding one of the back. “They have another guard station there, but those guards are too busy jacking each other off to pay close attention. At least that seemed to be the case when they dragged me inside. I yelled bloody murder and didn’t get a reaction out of any of them.”
“What’s the security on the door like?” Bastian asked.
“FOB scanner. Two guards,” Hans replied. “I wasn’t impressed.”
“I could probably overwrite it,” Bastian muttered. “What do you think, Jules?”
Mercer clasped his hands together, realizing his knuckles were swollen from his earlier outburst. He went into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of ice. Taking a seat, he looked at the photos, the three-dimensional blueprint, and the array of information pasted on the wall.
“We know he’s a pro. We know he leaves a trail of bloodshed in his wake. And we know that he desperately wants access to a computer program. We don’t know what it does, and we can only postulate why he is unable to get it on his own. So we need a way to get it, and we need a way to keep it from him until Sarina’s safe. Let’s get to work.” He pointed at the photos. “This is where we begin.”
Twenty-five
The team of kidnapping specialists had devised a plan of action that included two contingencies. Negotiations weren’t an exact science, and neither was breaking into a heavily fortified, tech savvy building. With any luck, the simplest plan would work. Of course, the crux of it rested on Logan Porter, and Mercer had trouble believing that their client was capable of performing the necessary feats. Frankly, if Porter was ballsy enough to do anything, he would have figured out a way to get the protocols on his own and would have told Alpha exactly where to shove them. Then again, that might have led to Sarina’s swift execution. It was better that Porter wasn’t the heroic, macho type, or so Mercer had convinced himself.
“I don’t like this,” Bastian whispered. They had just arrived at Logan’s estate. The two guards on duty, Will and Thomas, had waved them through without so much as a second glance. “Shouldn’t they be more proactive, particularly in lieu of what has already happened?”
“Now you’re being paranoid,” Mercer said as he parked on the cobblestone path in front of the house. He took a perverse pleasure in knowing that fact would irritate Logan and make the man more likely to agree with their plan just to get them to move the car.
“No, I’m being pragmatic.” Bastian sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror. “For all they know, we could have a trunk full of C4.”
“We have some det cord.” Mercer smiled. “But no one would believe we’re about to storm the house.”
“No, just Trila International.” Bastian sucked in some air and blew out a breath. “Is this really the best we could do?”
Without responding, Mercer exited the car and jogged up the steps to the porch. He rang the bell, waiting for Logan to answer. A second later, the door opened, and Logan ushered the two of them inside, glowering at the car.
“I couldn’t get the visitor list you asked for,” Logan began, but Mercer cut him off.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Mercer said without preamble. “This isn’t that unusual, and we will adapt. Right now, I need you to stay put for a few moments.”
Mercer turned, watching Bastian pull out an RF reader and scan the vicinity. They couldn’t afford to let Trila overhear their plans again. Bastian looked up, turning the device so Mercer could see the faint glow of a signal somewhere in the room.
“Have you had company since my last visit?” Mercer casually asked.
“No, why?” Logan glanced at the gadget in Bastian’s hand, unaware of what he was seeing.
“The flowers look fresh.” Mercer glared at the arrangement that had been delivered along with Sarina’s finger. “I thought those had been left outside.”
“The groundskeeper must have brought them in. Is something wrong with them?”
“Flowers inside a house mean death, mate,” Bastian said. “How about we go somewhere with better juju?”
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Logan gulped, realizing something else was going on. “Is Sarina…? Is she…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“Come on.” Mercer didn’t want to deal with hysterics or anything else. Cryptic was important at this juncture, and he all but dragged Logan out of the house and into the car. Once they were inside, Mercer turned to Logan. “Your wife is fine. However, your house is being bugged. I suspect that is your employer’s doing. This was the fastest way to get you outside without tipping them off. I’m sorry.” The words were sincere, and Logan closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a silent prayer of thanks. “Time isn’t on our side, and I need you to tell Bastian everything you can about the protocols.”
“What do you want to know?” Logan asked.
“Did you run the actual protocol within the program?” Bastian asked.
“Yes, after reading the report, I had to verify the data, so I ran the protocol, executed the backdoor commands, and made sure that the system was responsive to the intrusion.”
“Did you do that on your office computer?” Bastian asked.
“No, I did it upstairs in the lab.”
“Dammit,” Mercer cursed. He shifted his focus to the guard post, but the sentries weren’t paying attention to the parked car or the men inside.
“What about hard copies or digital copies of the code? Did you review them?” Bastian asked.
“Yeah, well, they were included in the reports I read and rubberstamped. I don’t have copies. I never expected to need them. It’s Trila’s proprietary property. There are rules governing how the information is stored and filed. By now, any paper trail has been destroyed. The protocols are saved on the system, so the programmers can create updates and improvements after the operating system is released.”
“So the data is somewhere on Trila’s network.” Bastian drummed his fingers against the seat. “That’s the only place it exists?”
“As far as I know.” Logan eyed both men. “You’re going to hack into Trila’s network?”
“More or less,” Mercer replied, turning the key in the ignition.
“How? It’s unbreakable. You’d have to be inside the building,” Logan protested.
“Sharp as a tack,” Bastian said. “That’s good. You’ll have to think on your feet.”
“Why?” Logan looked like he might be sick. “Where are we going?”
“You left something of great importance in your office, and you need to retrieve it immediately. It’s of dire consequence if you don’t,” Mercer responded.
“They’ll never let the two of you inside with me,” Logan said.
“That’s precisely what I’m counting on,” Mercer replied.
A mile from the Trila International building, Mercer pulled into an alleyway and flashed his lights. The vehicle in front of them returned the signal, and Bastian stepped out of the car. The darkness swallowed him as he headed deeper into the alley, toward the source of the returned headlights.
“What’s he doing?” Logan asked.
“Throwing in the towel. You said it yourself, Trila won’t let us inside. Bastian won’t risk it after this morning, so it’s just the two of us,” Mercer said, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the alley. He had monitored traffic the entire way and was positive that no one had followed them. Regardless, splitting up would improve their odds.
“Isn’t he your tech guy? Do you even know what to do?” Logan asked.
“Of course.”
It was almost nine p.m. when Mercer parked in front of the Trila International building. A quick glance at the garage indicated that most of the employees had gone home for the night. However, the guards were on duty and making their way to Mercer’s illegally parked car. Nodding to Logan, Mercer opened his jacket and took his gun from his hip. Holding it by the barrel, he offered it to the nearest guard.
“Logan Porter,” Logan said, holding out his Trila credentials, “this is Julian Mercer, he’s my personal security specialist.”
“We are aware,” one of the guards said. “What are you doing on the premises at this time of night?”
“In the rush to leave today, I forgot an important item in my office. It’s imperative that I retrieve it tonight,” Porter said. His words sounded rehearsed, and Mercer internally cringed. Hopefully, Porter believed that Bastian really had given up so that he wouldn’t accidentally compromise the rest of Mercer’s team, who were waiting for an obvious distraction before making their move.
The guard radioed ahead, listening to the response before saying, “You can go inside, Mr. Porter, but Mr. Mercer will remain here.”
“I’m sorry,” Porter said, “but he has to accompany me. It’s of the utmost importance.”
“Why?” the guard asked.
“He has to remain by the phone,” Mercer said, holding out the cell phone. “The kidnapper is supposed to be making contact any minute, and he expects to speak to both of us directly. If Mr. Porter isn’t present at the time of the call,” Mercer pressed his lips together and looked away, “I don’t want to be responsible for that. Do you understand?”
The guard didn’t look convinced.
“Please,” Porter begged, “it is a matter of life or death.”
“What do you need from the office?” the guard asked.
“Her wedding ring,” Mercer replied, knowing that Porter wasn’t prepared to answer. “It’s complicated, but it’s in his office. And we need it. It’s vital to the negotiation.”
The guard radioed for further assistance, and soon a few more men joined the two guards at the front of the building. “We will escort you to the office and back again.” They looked around. “Let’s step into the lobby.”
Inside, Porter and Mercer went through a metal detector, and then Julian was thoroughly frisked. It was nice to know they feared him. Once they were satisfied that he was unarmed, four guards escorted them to the lift. The doors opened, and the group of six men entered.
“It’s a go,” Mercer whispered.
“What?” the guard asked.
“I said let’s go.” Mercer smiled, a wicked disconcerting expression that did nothing to ease the guard’s suspicions.
The lift continued its ascent but stopped abruptly half a level below the desired destination. The doors opened, showing the elevator shaft and part of the floor above. One of the guards cast a sideways look at Mercer while two of them reset the elevator, forcing the doors to close and the lift to continue upward. When it stopped on the proper floor, the doors wouldn’t open.
“What is this?” the guard asked.
“How the bloody hell should I know?” Mercer said. “It’s your damn lift.”
“If this is a joke or some kind of trick, you’ll be leaving here in a body bag,” the guard threatened.
“And if you don’t get the doors open, we’ll all be stuck inside this metal box from now until kingdom come,” Mercer snapped, stepping to the side and attempting to help the guards force the doors open. “Isn’t there someone in the lobby who can manually override the elevator?”
After another few minutes of trying to pry the doors open to no avail, a guard got on the radio to request a manual override. Meanwhile, Mercer exchanged a look with Porter and glanced at his watch. It appeared that things were moving according to plan. Bastian must have accessed the basement lift and triggered the shut off for all the lifts in the building. Once the reset was initiated, it would give Bastian three minutes to get upstairs and inside Porter’s office before the system came back online.
“Are we on schedule?” Mercer whispered, knowing that his team would understand the question was meant for them. He covered his mouth and faked a cough, hoping the guards didn’t hear him.
“Affirmative. We met little resistance. Two have been subdued,” Hans replied through the comms.
“I need more time,” Bastian hissed. “How much longer can you hold the lift?”
“We should be out in another minute,” Mercer respond
ed for Bastian’s sake. “We need to hurry.”
“I’m going as fast as I can, Jules,” Bastian growled. “Bloody hell. They’re on the stairs.”
“Get out,” Mercer ordered, drawing attention from the men inside the elevator with him. He pushed one of the guards. “I said get out of the way. I think I can get it open.” He clawed at the doors for purchase. “Just one good shove and we’ll be out,” Mercer warned, hoping Bastian and Hans were clear and an army of guards wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door for them. The doors began to open, and Mercer held his breath.
Twenty-six
“Claustrophobic?” the guard mocked, exchanging snickers with the three other men, amused by Mercer’s actions. “We’ll have to remember that.”
Mercer cast his gaze down the corridor, finding the hallway empty. The stairwell doors opened, and two more guards emerged on the level. Immediately, they were waved away by the guards who had taken lead and were heading quickly toward Porter’s office.
“Make it snappy,” the mouthy guard insisted, “we shouldn’t have even let him up here without approval. I don’t want my ass in a sling because of it.”
“Right, sorry. Thanks,” Porter said, apologizing as he pressed his palm against the scanner, hearing the mechanism release and the red light flashed to green. “We’ll just be a second.”
Mercer opened the door slowly, stepping inside. To the left, he spotted Bastian and Hans pressed against the wall. They remained silent, waiting for verification that the guards were remaining in the hallway. Once Porter entered, pulling the door closed behind him, they let out a collective sigh of relief.
“Holy —,” Porter began, and Mercer clamped his hand firmly over the man’s mouth to silence him.
