The Twins Paradox

by Sco Thorson

handbag beneath the table. It was a text message.

  "Will pay $100,000 if you get TJ the information. Will transfer $50,000 now as earnest money. Dave."

  Monique read the message warily. She had been promised a lot in her life, but never $100,000. It would free her from her annoying paramours, for a few weeks. And she could turn it into much more. Her rich boyfriends had always said she had a head for business.

  She looked at the message again. It was signed ‘Dave 2.” Why the ‘2’? Another message arrived at her phone.

  "Check your bank balance. Dave."

  The Monique checked her bank balance at HSBC in the Channel Islands. $50,000 had just been deposited.

  "Excuse me," she interrupted.

  Dave and TJ turned to look at her.

  "I will get the information. It will be fun." She smiled warmly.

  Dave and TJ said nothing. Finally, TJ spoke. "But how can you get the information from the brokerage. We only have an account number."

  Monique combated her eyes shamelessly at Dave.

  "Mr. Dave is clever. He has a plan, no?"

  "No, I don't." Dave replied sourly.

  "I could hack…” he continued, but then stopped and looked at TJ.

  "A good hacker could probably get the password, if he knew the account alias."

  TJ jumped in, "but we have the account number."

  Dave shook his head. "We have the account number, but not the alias used to log in remotely. Without that, we won't hack into the right account."

  TJ sighed stared at her plate. Dave looked relieved. Monique was distressed. She had already spent the first $50,000 in her mind.

  "What if I took the account number to the brokerage office?" She asked innocently.

  Dave pursed his lips and shook his head. "Unless they can identify you as the account owner, you will need at least a passphrase before they will even talk with you. And the account owner may have stipulated additional security procedures. One mistake and they call security."

  Monique frowned, but then brightened. "And if I make a deposit?"

  TJ looked up, hopeful. "Security procedures may be less strict for deposit. And I'll bet," she continued, nodding at Monique, "that she is good at getting what she wants."

  Monique shot a quick glare at TJ, then smiled a Dave. "We should try, for your friend’s sake. We could make a $10,000 deposit."

  TJ nodded, "It's worth a try, and Dave, I know you can afford $10,000."

  45 minutes later, they've pulled into a parking garage around the corner from the brokerage. He handed her the large bundle of hundred dollar bills. She blew him a kiss, stepped out of the car, clicked her way around the corner and into the lobby of Forrest and Greaves, Private Bankers.

  A striking woman behind a large oak desk smiled and asked, "May I help you?"

  "I need to deposit some funds, for a…" Monique paused, "friend."

  The woman smiled benignly. "Of course, please be seated. One of our bankers will be with you presently."

  Monique sat, careful to hike up her skirt. A few minutes later a young man in his late 20s strode into the lobby, saw her, and smiled.

  “I’m Mr. Darby," he began, "How may I help you?"

  She dazzled him with a smile. "I am doing a favor for a friend."

  "Of course, of course," the young man replied obsequiously, gesturing to the large door behind her receptionist. "Please follow me."

  She followed him through the door and down a long row of doors. He extracted a small key on a chain from his pocket and opened the third door from the end. She stepped into a well appointed meeting room.

  "May I have some wine brought in?" He asked.

  She shook her head. "No, this is a small matter."

  Mr. Darby pulled out a chair and she sat gracefully.

  "How may I help you," he asked taking a seat opposite her.

  She pulled a stack of bills from her purse. "My friend asked me to deposit this extra cash." She set the stack on the table, and reached into her purse again. "He gave me a number."

  She looked through the purse, carefully at first, and then frantically. “Mon dieu,” she finally cried, and dumped the contents of the purse onto the table.

  "He will have my head," she sobbed as she sorted through the sea of cosmetics, papers, and adult toys.

  Mr. Darby glanced at his watch, then cleared his throat and forced a smile.

  "Perhaps I can be of assistance,” he began. "Is there some other way we can identify your friend?"

  "His name is Ian," she paused reflectively. "I don't recall his family name."

  Mr. Darby smiled grimly. "Perhaps we could call him."

  She jumped up in panic and strode quickly back and forth along the table. "No no, I must not call him."

  Mr. Darby rose and walked around the table towards the door. "Then perhaps you can return when you have the necessary information."

  She turned, grabbed Darby's hand, and pulled it to her cleavage.

  "No, I must make this deposit. He will be furious."

  "Perhaps you have some other information that we can use to identify Mr. Ian,” Darby suggested, shifting uncomfortably.

  Her face brightened, she released his hand and grasped him by the forearm.

  "Voila,” she threw her arms around Darby and hugged him, "I have his trading ID. I often call his broker for him."

  Mr. Darby almost smiled. "I think that will be sufficient."

  10 minutes later, she exited the conference room, and kissing Mr. Darby on both cheeks strode happily down the corridor. An older man and an expensive pinstripe suit emerged from another door as she passed. His eyes followed her appreciatively, and then with recognition. He quickly strode to the other end of the corridor and around the corner to a heavy metal door. He palmed a scanner and the door slid quietly open. He crossed a private reception area to a large corner office where he dialed a familiar number.

  "Max, Roger here. Are you in town? I just noticed your French girl here at our offices."

  The Target

  Wednesday, 11:10 am

  TJ stared distractedly at the large monitor, then stole another look at the clock. They had been gone for almost an hour. It was bad enough that her boss was trying to steal her project. The thought that Dave could be her only hope of saving her research made the situation unbearable.

  She rose, and strode to the window. Maybe she should stay here and forget about quantum computing. Dave owed her plenty. She could blackmail him into letting her stay until she found a new position. Maybe this time he might even really marry her.

  Her phone buzzed with a new email.

  "TJ, I need you to install some code on my server to help us get the information," it began. "I have included the code below. You just need to install it on the server."

  She quickly scanned the code, and shrugged. It seems simple enough, something that parsed and executed commands from email messages. Glad for something to do, she returned to the workstation and quickly entered and installed the code. She was just finishing when she heard the elevator chime. It's doors slid open.

  "Oh yeah,” David bellowed, striding into the room with clenched fists raised high above his head.

  He turned, picked up Monique as she exited the elevator, and swung her around three times.

  "This lady is incredible," he gushed.

  Monique smiled demurely.

  "You got the information," TJ asked excitedly.

  Monique extracted the paper from her purse. "I hope this is what you need, mon cher." She handed the paper to TJ, then crossed the room, pulled her cell phone from her purse, and studied it intently.

  Dave hugged TJ. "I think we're done here. Let's send it off to your boss, and then it's time to go sailing."

  “Ah,” Monique exclaimed from the other side of the room, and smiling happily tossed her cell phone back into her purse.

  TJ frowned. "We're not done until the informa
tion checks out."

  Dave fell back into a large armchair. "Then call your boss."

  He stood and strode across the room to Monique. "How about you? I know you like my boat."

  "I love your boat" Monique declared and kissed him on the cheek.

  She walked past him to the elevator then turned.

  "I would love to buy it," she smiled as the doors slid shut.

  He lunged for the elevator button, but the doors remained closed. He looked uncomfortably back at TJ then walked to the door for the stairway.

  TJ sighed and called her boss.

  "Hudson," he answered gruffly.

  "Mr. Hudson," TJ began, "this is Dr. Jones. I have the information you requested."

  There was a pause. "TJ, what information?"

  "The information you sent me to Grand Cayman for – the trades," she replied coldly.

  "Ah yes, thank you TJ. It's been a busy day here with the demonstration and all."

  TJ gritted her teeth and counted to 10. "I'll encrypt the information and send it to you now. I think it might be a solid lead."

  "Yes, be a good girl and do that. Thank you TJ."

  She heard the click and almost hurled her phone across the room. Thinking better of it, she quickly composed an email, encrypted it, and sent it to Hudson. Then she slumped into a chair and imagined the many ways that Robert Hudson could die a horrible death, all of them much too good for him. She was just reveling in the thought of watching him torn apart by bargain crazed black Friday shoppers when her phone buzzed with an email. It was from Hudson, and it was encrypted.

  "Lead may have promise. Get more information." Below that was a mailing address in the Bahamas and a photo of a striking, self-assured man.

  "Why me," she muttered as she shuffled into the elevator.

  She emerged on the first floor. Monique was laughing while Dave stood