The E-Mail Mystery (Nancy Drew Book 144)

by Carolyn Keene

  “Making hard copies?” Henry asked. “I thought you were just backing up the computer files on floppies.”

  “Yes, this is just a record of the E-mail transmission log on this case,” Nancy said. “I thought I’d add it to the paper file, in case someone wants to check on it later.”

  “Those are dead cases, Nancy,” he said. “No one’s ever going to look at them again.”

  Before Nancy could reply, Byron Thomas rushed into the library and hurried over to the computer station he had been working at before, the one at which Henry now sat.

  “Where’s my disk?” he asked Henry frantically.

  “Relax, Byronic Man, it’s right here,” Henry replied. “I took it out and put it in a sleeve before I started my work. Not to worry. How was the courthouse?”

  Byron grabbed the disk out of Henry’s outstretched hand, tucked it inside his folder, and rushed out of the library without answering Henry’s question. Nancy looked at Henry, her eyebrows raised.

  “Is he always this excitable?” she asked. “He seemed kind of quiet when we were working in here this morning.”

  “Oh, Byron’s just one of those sensitive, artistic types,” Henry replied. “He doesn’t like to let anyone in on his big, important secrets.”

  The secret of how he’s paying his law school tuition? Nancy wondered. Could he be the one sending information to Williams & Brown—and are they paying him for it?

  The library doors opened again. This time it was Blaine, with the same harried manner Byron had shown a few minutes earlier.

  “Where’s Byron?” she asked sharply. “He was supposed to look up some information at the courthouse and bring it to me right away. And what are you two doing sitting around talking? You both have work to do, don’t you?”

  Nancy quietly continued her work, not responding to the angry woman. “Byron was in here a minute ago, Ms. Warner,” Henry replied. “I think he just got back from the courthouse and was headed to your office.”

  “My office is right across the hall, Henry. Why did he stop in here to gab with you and Nancy? Maybe he can explain that to me.”

  Blaine turned on her heel and left the library, closing the door behind her. Hard.

  Nancy shook her head. “What’s up with her?”

  “She’s always pretty tough,” Henry said. “You don’t get to be the first female editor of the Law Review at Walker Law by being a pushover, believe me. But frankly, she seems worse today than I’ve ever seen her. Do you think she’s jealous of you?”

  “Jealous of me?” Nancy asked. “What for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. She admires your father so much.” Henry paused thoughtfully. “I mean, when you’re not in the office, she gets all his attention. Maybe when you’re around, she feels left out, like a fifth wheel. Maybe she feels threatened.”

  I’m his daughter, Nancy thought. Blaine’s an associate in his law firm. What more attention could she want from him? Nancy frowned. That was something to think about.

  “Where’s there a phone I can use to make an outside call?” Nancy asked Henry.

  “Well, if you don’t want to use the one at your computer station, there’s one right across the hall, in the conference room next to Blaine’s office,” Henry replied.

  Nancy excused herself and walked over to the empty conference room. It was time to call Bess. Maybe Bess would know how to find out who had sent the mysterious E-mail and what had been transmitted.

  Nancy closed the conference room door, which had a smoked-glass window. She walked to the end of the long table in the conference room. She dialed her friend’s number.

  “Hi, Nancy!” Bess said, her voice reflecting her happiness at hearing from Nancy. “You’re lucky. I was just about to go on-line, and I haven’t got a separate phone line for my computer yet. All you would’ve gotten for the next couple of hours was a busy signal.”

  “A couple of hours? You’ve really become serious about this Internet thing, haven’t you?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s so interesting. You can find out anything online,” Bess said excitedly. “So, what’s up?”

  “I’m helping out at my dad’s office,” Nancy explained. “In fact, I was calling to pick your brain for some on-line expertise.”

  “I’d be glad to help out,” Bess said.

  “I’ve discovered something strange going on here at the office,” Nancy elaborated. “A number of cases have been settling unusually early, and it looks like someone sent E-mail to the opposing attorneys on the very first day each of the cases was received. My dad said all these clients of his wanted to settle right away.”

  “That does smell rotten,” Bess said. “What kind of Internet connection do you have?”

  “I made a printout of the file. If you look it over, could you give me more information about it?”

  “I’ll do my best. Have you told your father about your discovery yet?” Bess asked.

  “No, I don’t want to worry him at this stage. I only have suspicions. Maybe you can help me get some proof. What are you doing tonight?” Nancy asked. “Can we meet for dinner after I get out of work?”

  “Sure,” Bess agreed. “Let’s go to that new restaurant downtown, the Sacred Cow. It’s right next door to a place I’ve heard a lot about, the Art-Dot-Café.”

  “Art-Dot-Café?” Nancy said. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s one of these cool new cyber-cappuccino places,” Bess explained. “You can drink coffee and chat on the Internet. I heard about it on-line the other day, and I’ve been dying to go there.”

  “Okay,” Nancy said. “Sounds great. The Sacred Cow it is. Six o’clock sound good to you?”

  “Perfect,” Bess said. “And now I’m going online.”

  “See you later,” Nancy said.

  As she hung up the phone, Nancy noticed a shadowy movement beyond the smoked-glass window in the conference room door. Strange, she thought. Someone had been eavesdropping on her phone call!

  5

  Caught Off Guard

  Nancy jumped up, ran around the long table, and threw open the conference room door to catch whoever it was. The hallway was empty, and Ms. Hanson was not in the reception area, so Nancy couldn’t ask her if she’d seen anyone. Who had overheard Nancy expressing her suspicions to Bess on the phone? Nancy realized she had gotten so wrapped up in the conversation that she had forgotten to remain alert.

  She could see Blaine sitting in her office next door to the conference room, head bent forward over her papers. Byron exited from the copy room and headed for the library, where Nancy saw Henry standing by the door inside. It could have been any of them, Nancy thought to herself. I wonder which one?

  Nancy returned to her file-copying work for the rest of the afternoon. At five-thirty, she went in to her father’s office to say good night to him, and tell him that she was meeting Bess for dinner.

  “Computer problems already?” he asked. “I meant to tell you that you can also ask Henry for help in that area. He’s our resident computer whiz.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” Nancy assured her father. “We’re just getting together. Tell Hannah I’ll be home late and she shouldn’t worry about me,” she added.

  “Okay, I will. But you know that won’t stop her.” Mr. Drew gave his daughter a tired smile. “Have a good time. See you later.”

  Nancy checked that the printout of the E-mail log file was in her leather portfolio before picking up her suit jacket. On her way out of the door, she said good night to Ms. Hanson.

  “Get some rest, Nancy,” Ms. Hanson said with a smile. “You look tired.”

  “I am tired,” Nancy replied. “I’m going out with Bess for dinner, but I shouldn’t be out too late.”

  “Please say hello to her for me,” Ms. Hanson said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “I will. See you in the morning,” Nancy said, closing the double glass doors to the office behind her. She rode the elevator down to the main floor.

  • • •
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  Nancy strolled down the street in the late afternoon sunshine. She was looking forward to spending some time with Bess, even if they would mostly be talking about the world of the Internet.

  Nancy’s walk took her beyond the downtown business area to the industrial district down by the river. It had undergone a renaissance in the past few years. Trendy restaurants, coffee bars, boutiques, gift shops, and bookstores had sprung up in the converted warehouse area.

  Nancy spotted the sign for the Sacred Cow restaurant hanging over a small doorway and made her way toward it. The sign had a whimsical painting of a blue sky with white fluffy clouds and a brown-and-white cow with wings and a halo, playing a lyre.

  In the next building was a small coffee bar with the sign Art.Café at the door, just as Bess had told Nancy on the phone.

  Bess was waiting inside the Sacred Cow, sitting at a small table next to a large ficus tree by the front window. She was already working on a shrimp cocktail appetizer.

  “Hi, Nance,” Bess said, jumping up to give her friend a hug. Bess’s blond hair shone in the late afternoon sunlight streaming in the window. “Sorry I started without you. I was starved, and I didn’t know if you’d have to stay late at the office—or if the bad guys had caught you already.”

  “No talk about the bad guys yet,” Nancy said. “Let’s eat.”

  The two girls ran their eyes down the elaborate menu. Nancy decided on a cool summer salad with grilled chicken, and Bess chose baked stuffed trout with almonds.

  The waitress arrived, and the girls placed their orders. “Why do they call this place the Sacred Cow?” Nancy asked the waitress. “There’s no beef anywhere on the menu.”

  “That’s the idea,” replied their waitress. “In India, cows are viewed as holy. Even the fast-food joints there serve lamb burgers. Not only do Indians not eat beef, but cows are allowed to roam free in the streets, and no one can bother them. I’ve been told it causes a lot of traffic problems.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t let them roam free in this restaurant,” Bess said to the waitress with a smile. “Do you serve Indian food here, too?”

  “A few dishes,” the waitress said, opening a menu in front of them. “See? There’s a lamb curry, there’s dal, which is a kind of lentil dish, and there’s biryani, a fragrant rice dish made with saffron and raisins.”

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Bess said. “Can I get that with my fish?”

  “Sure,” the waitress said. “I’ll bring you a side order.”

  During the meal, Nancy filled Bess in on her suspicions and described the conversations she had overheard at the Williams & Brown office when she dropped off her father’s documents.

  “So let me get this straight,” Bess said. “You think someone at Williams and Brown is getting information from your father’s office about his clients—information to use to settle cases early. That would save their clients money, because the insurance companies who have to pay out court expenses and financial judgments only have to pay out a small settlement award. Did I get that right?” she finished with a loud sigh.

  “Exactly,” Nancy said. “Plus, it makes Williams and Brown look good. I heard one of the partners congratulating his son for settling some insurance case early. He said it would help the firm and the son’s career.”

  “So he’s got a motive,” Bess said excitedly.

  “But he would need an accomplice inside my father’s office to get him the information,” Nancy said. “Unless he could access our computer system from outside?”

  “First things first,” Bess said. “Tell me about the suspects in your father’s office.”

  “There’s Byron Thomas, the summer law intern,” Nancy said. “He’s a law student with lots of debts—and lots of secrets, too. He always seems to be hiding bits of paper or computer disks whenever someone comes near him.”

  The arrival of the waitress with their plates of food interrupted the girls’ conversation for a moment, but as soon as they were left alone, Bess asked Nancy to continue.

  “There’s Henry Yi. He’s a real egomaniac and a busybody, knows everything about everyone. He calls Byron ‘the poet,’ and says Byron’s artistic side is why he’s so high-strung. And then there’s Blaine Warner, who’s my dad’s new law associate. My dad has told me that she’s a really tough, aggressive lawyer. But for some reason she was hostile toward me all day.”

  “So, do you think someone at Williams and Brown is paying one of them to E-mail confidential information from your dad’s office? What sort of information could they use that way?”

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy admitted. “It may have to do with each of their prior criminal cases, all of which my dad handled. I’ll do some research on that tomorrow. I hate to suspect anyone in my father’s office without proof. So, is it possible for someone at Williams and Brown to access files in our computer system from outside, without help from someone in my dad’s office? Could someone phone our computer and tell it to E-mail something to them so that no one would know about it?”

  “I suppose it is,” Bess said slowly. “You can send something to a remote computer, if you’ve got the password to let you on the computer you’re trying to access. But how would someone know which files to get? It seems to me that the person would have to have a contact inside your dad’s office.”

  Bess paused thoughtfully. “What kind of computer security system do you have?”

  “Well,” Nancy said slowly, “there’s an antivirus program that comes up automatically when you transfer files.”

  “No, no, not virus protection—secret passwords, automatic shutoffs, file coding—that sort of thing,” Bess explained.

  “There’s nothing like that,” Nancy said. “We all have passwords to get into the system, but they’re no secret. Ms. Hanson gave me one when I came into work today, but when I forgot it, Henry told me what it was, so there’s nothing secret about them.”

  “That’s very unprofessional,” said Bess. “I’m really surprised. Who’s the sysop in your dad’s office?”

  “What’s that?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s short for system operator,” Bess explained with a smile. “That’s the person in charge of computer operations at a company or organization.”

  “It’s probably Henry,” Nancy said. “My father said he’s got a background in computers.”

  “Then it’s not surprising that he knows everyone’s passwords. Maybe he’s the link,” Bess said.

  Nancy took a last bite of her salad, and Bess picked the final raisin off her plate. The waitress returned to clear their places and bring them dessert menus.

  “Oh, nothing for me,” Bess said. “I’m stuffed. Maybe just a cup of tea. No, let’s go next door and get some cappuccino at Art-Dot-Café, okay, Nancy?”

  “That sounds great,” Nancy said.

  “Just the bill then, thanks,” Bess said to the waitress. Then, once the table was clean, she said to Nancy, “Let me see the E-mail transmission log you printed out.”

  Nancy carefully removed it from her portfolio. “Ah, you see?” Bess pointed to a line on the printout. “This shows who sent the E-mail: MHans.”

  “Marian Hanson!” Nancy exclaimed. “That can’t be! She’s worked for my father for years. You know her, Bess. She said to say hi to you when she heard we were having dinner together.”

  “People change,” Bess said.

  “I don’t believe it,” Nancy said. “Besides, it’s just not possible. Look at the transmission times. These files were sent after ten o’clock at night, some after midnight. Ms. Hanson doesn’t stay in the office that late. Couldn’t someone else log on as her, so it would look as if anything transmitted came from her?”

  “If the computer security is as lax as you say it is—sure,” Bess said. “Anybody could log on as MHans, with her password.”

  “Henry certainly knew mine, and it’s only temporary, so I can work on the system for the next couple of days. I’m sure he knows hers as well,” Nanc
y said. “And he always seems to be hanging around, asking me questions about what I’m doing when I’m trying to work.”

  “That could be for a lot of reasons, Nancy,” Bess said with a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe he likes you.”

  “Oh, come on, Bess, this is serious,” Nancy said.

  “Look, Nancy, even if he’s not interested in you personally, he might be trying to impress your dad,” Bess insisted.

  “What about tracking whether the instruction to send the E-mail came from inside the office or outside it? Can you do something like that?”

  “I’ll be honest, Nancy,” Bess said. “I’ve learned a lot about getting around the Internet, but I’m not sure I have enough expertise to track a computer criminal through cyberspace.”

  “Well, do you know somebody who could do it?” Nancy persisted.

  “I could probably find someone,” Bess said. “But this printout won’t tell anyone what we need to know, not even a computer expert. It just shows the information from your in-house E-mail system. We’ll need to see where the mail was routed, what the servers were, and discover the real addresses—and the actual account holders.”

  “I can’t believe how much you’ve learned recently. You’re way over my head,” Nancy warned.

  “I’m not sure how to access that stuff, anyway,” Bess continued. “But I’ll tell you what. Let me come into the office with you, and I’ll try to dig up the file information a computer expert would need to track this E-mail. Then I’ll log on to my computer-users’ chat group. We’ll be sure to find some ambitious computer hacker who’ll know what we need to do.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Nancy said. “Why don’t you meet me in the office tomorrow night after work, and you can show me all around the Internet.”

  “Let’s go to Art-Dot-Café right now,” Bess said, “and I’ll give you a quick introductory tour.”

  While the girls were gathering up their things to exit the restaurant, Nancy whispered sharply to Bess, “Look over there. See that woman, sitting behind that ficus tree next to our table? That’s Blaine Warner.”