Fault Line

by Barry Eisler

  “Iranians,” she said, feeling her face go hot. “They must be the most evil of all.”

  “Hard to trust,” he said, chewing his gum. “You never know what they’re up to.”

  “Well, I’m glad you two are getting along so well,” Alex said. “That ought to make our job of staying alive for another day much easier.”

  Damn it, he was right. She was playing an idiot’s game, and what did that make her?

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “Do we have any remaining records of the Obsidian source code?”

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so. They got everything, even the application in PAIR.”

  “Shit,” she said.

  Ben looked at her. “What?”

  “If we had the source code,” she said, “we could have published it.”

  “Of course,” Alex said. “SourceForge, or Slashdot—”

  “Not just the tech sites,” Sarah said. “We could have written to every political blog out there—Talking Points Memo, Unclaimed Territory, No Comment, Balloon Juice, Hullabaloo, the Daily Dish, Firedoglake. We could have documented the people who were killed, the break-in at your house—”

  “That’s why they moved so fast after they blew their shot at Alex,” Ben said. “They had to eliminate any chance you might have gone public. This whole thing is about keeping the invention secret.”

  “That’s what the government does,” Sarah said. “Bottle things up. Information wants to be free. The government wants to control it.”

  Alex sighed. “Yeah, well, without the source code, we can’t free anything. We’d sound like a couple of crackpots peddling a conspiracy theory.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “And then eventually, when you turned up dead anyway, assuming anyone even noticed when it happened, there would be no proof. No proof, no story. The main thing is, the invention would still be secret.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Ben looked at Alex. “You must know something,” he said. “Otherwise they would have just killed you and vacuumed up the documents right after. But they didn’t. They wanted information from you first. What was it?”

  “How should I know?”

  “What do you know? What could they have suspected you know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think. They knew all about your firm’s filing system, electronic and hard copy. They knew which lawyers were working on the case. They knew about PAIR, and how to access it. These are all quantifiable, procedural things. Formal things. Systems. What would have unnerved them is the possibility of something idiosyncratic, something outside the system, something hard to predict. What would that be? What would they be afraid they were missing? A personal laptop? An unofficial backup file? Do you have anything like that?”

  “Yes!” Alex said. “Hilzoy used to leave a backup of the latest version with my secretary whenever he visited the office. Catastrophe insurance, keeping a copy in a remote location. It’s on my laptop now. I’ve been playing around with it.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of thing they were afraid they might miss,” Ben said. “Exactly what they were planning to grill you for. Does it have the source code on it?”

  “No, it’s just executable,” Alex said. “It’s like a software program you would buy in a store. And Hilzoy’s notes.”

  “Well, can you reverse-engineer it?” Ben asked.

  “No,” Sarah said. “I mean, maybe theoretically you could, but practically speaking, no.”

  “No backups of the source code?” Ben asked.

  Alex shook his head. “They got all of them.”

  “Well, what would happen if you posted the executable version?”

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t think it would give us a lot of credibility. On the surface, it’s just a slick way of encrypting data. Since Hilzoy died, I’ve been experimenting with it and I can’t find anything about it that would be worth killing for. So posting it as proof of some kind of conspiracy would just get us a big yawn.”

  They were quiet for a moment. “Well,” Sarah said, “what are we supposed to do now?”

  “I see three possibilities,” Ben said.

  Alex and Sarah looked at him.

  “First,” Ben said, “you could do nothing. It’s possible whoever is behind all this feels the risk/reward ratio has changed. They’ve vacuumed up the source code. They’ve deleted the invention from PAIR. They’ve eliminated the inventor and the patent guy. And they don’t know about the backup disc, although it was the kind of possibility they were trying to foreclose. They might feel comfortable enough at this point to stand down.”

  “How likely is that?” Alex asked.

  “I wouldn’t say very,” Ben said. “They started this op going after people. Doing so involved a lot of logistics and a lot of risk. That suggests the people aspect of their op is important to them. What you did at your house forced them to change the sequence of the op, but it doesn’t change the value of the targets.”

  “And now I’ve had time to discover the missing paperwork,” Alex said, “and the other missing items. To put together pieces. Meaning if there was some kind of backup they missed …”

  Ben nodded, then inclined his head toward Sarah. “Exactly. Also, they might have let her live because she wasn’t important enough to kill. But now they have to figure that you could have warned her about what’s going on. You know more now than you did before. They might reassess her threat level as a result.”

  Sarah tried to control her irritation at the way he was discussing a threat to her life as though she wasn’t even in the room. “Well, possibility one doesn’t sound very promising,” she said. “What’s the second possibility?”

  “The second possibility is that you come up with a meaningful explanation of what makes Obsidian worth killing for. You’ll be a step closer then to knowing who’s doing the killing.”

  “I’ve tried,” Alex said. “I couldn’t find anything.”

  “Who’s threatened by it?” Ben said. “Or who stands to gain? Existing security software companies?”

  Sarah chuckled. “You mean software companies are killing people? Please.”

  Ben looked at her. “Please what? Please don’t tell you anything that might save your life at the cost of puncturing your little bubble of naïveté?”

  “Come on, Ben,” Alex said. “Companies don’t kill people.”

  “And you’re basing that conclusion on what evidence?”

  “What about the government?” Sarah said. “Maybe the NSA doesn’t want networks to be more secure than they already are.”

  Ben chuckled. “I really don’t think the NSA—”

  “What, you don’t think the NSA would kill people? And I’m the one living in a bubble? I bet you don’t think the president would arrest an American citizen on American soil and hold him without granting him access to an attorney or charging him with a crime or otherwise adhering to constitutional requirements. I bet you don’t think the government would wiretap Americans without a warrant, either. I bet you don’t think—”

  “You don’t know the first fucking thing about what I think.”

  “—that the government would cook up intelligence to start a war. I bet you don’t think the government is run by people who’ve gotten as far as they have in politics by learning to rationalize all kinds of corruption, in the name of the greater good. Are you telling me these things don’t go on, every single day?”

  She stopped, breathing a little hard. She hadn’t meant to make a speech. But she’d gotten through to him. That little f-bomb wasn’t part of the control curriculum, was it?

  “You know what?” he said. “If a few laws need to get bent to save lives, they get bent. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Yeah? Who determines which laws get bent? And how much? If you can break some laws, why not others? Where does it stop? What does the law even mean?”

  “Here’s an idea for you,” he said, chewing his gum lazily. “Instead of blaming America f
irst for everything that bugs you, why don’t you consider some other possibilities? If it’s not too much of a strain.”

  “Like who?”

  “How about the mullahs in Tehran, for a start? You wouldn’t believe the shit they’re up to.”

  Sarah knew he was baiting her again and tried to stay cool. She wanted to say, I’m American, you fucking racist, and I hate the mullahs, but knew that’s what he wanted, he wanted to make her angry. After that, he would tell her she was just being emotional, adding sexism to the list of qualities she already loathed him for.

  “Absolutely,” she said, channeling her anger into sarcasm. “Let’s make sure Iran is on the list. After all, every country with a GDP the size of Finland’s is a grave threat to our national security. I mean, did you see it on the news? Two Iranian nuclear scientists were assassinated last week in Istanbul.”

  “Really?” Ben said. “I must have missed it.”

  “Yes, and their bodyguards, too. Even though we have a law—Executive Order 12333—that prohibits assassination.”

  Ben shrugged. “What can you do? Iran has a lot of enemies.”

  “Sure, and maybe we subcontracted the job to one of them, just like we used to subcontract torture to get around our laws against that. Until we started doing it ourselves. You see what happens when it’s okay to break the law a little? It starts getting broken a lot.”

  “I admire your idealism,” Ben said, with a paternalistic smile that made her want to punch him.

  Alex said, “You mentioned a third possibility. What is it?”

  A moment went by while Ben examined a cuticle. Then he said, “You don’t want to know about that one. It’s the one that doesn’t have a happy ending. And right now, it’s looking the most likely. I get the feeling you two are going to keep your heads in the sand until someone shoots your asses off.”

  How could he talk that way about his own brother? How could he care so little? Was it an act? After all, he was here, that must mean something.

  “What about the police?” she said.

  Ben looked at her. “What about them?”

  “We could tell them about the missing files.”

  “Sure you could. What do you expect they would do at that point?”

  “I don’t know. Recognize something really is going on here, just like we have. Devote additional resources. Protect us, maybe.”

  Ben shrugged. “Well sure, then do it.”

  She glared at him. She wanted to slap that insouciance right off his face.

  “Okay,” she said after seething for a moment, “tell me what I’m missing.”

  Ben sighed. “You’re not looking at things from the other side’s perspective. Here, the other side is the police. Alex already ran his conspiracy theory past them, isn’t that right, Alex?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” Alex said. “And anyway, that was before—”

  “Before what? Before you claimed some files went missing? They’ll think it’s a stunt. They’ll think you’re trying to find a way to be taken seriously. They’ll start to take a very close look at you in a way you do not want to be looked at.”

  “But my files are missing, too,” Sarah said.

  “Right. They’ll think Alex took them so you would corroborate his claim.”

  “They wouldn’t think that,” she said, realizing she sounded petulant. She just didn’t want him to be right.

  “How many police do you know?” Ben asked. “Do you know how they spend their time, how they look at the world? Let me tell you what a San Jose homicide detective is focused on. Gangs. Teenagers dead of gunshot wounds. Witnesses afraid to cooperate. Trying to keep a lid on all that. That’s his world. The shit you’ve gotten mixed up in? That’s what he goes to the movies to see. That’s as real as he thinks this kind of thing is. And even if he did believe you, what then? What do you think—you’re going to get a protective detail from the San Jose police?”

  Damn it, he was right. But …

  “Someone took those files from our offices,” Sarah said. “How did they get in?”

  “I can think of several ways,” Ben said. “Why?”

  Alex sat forward in his chair. “Right—the key cards. They’re all individually encoded. So if you wanted to, you can tell who’s been coming and going, and when.”

  Ben shook his head. “Even if they had help on the inside, you’re not going to find out who with a key card.”

  “Why not?” Sarah said.

  “Everything else they’ve done has been too thorough. They’re not going to make a mistake that obvious.”

  “How else could you get in and out at night?” Sarah asked.

  “Look, you wouldn’t have to be Houdini to slip past the receptionist during business hours and hide in a bathroom or wherever until the place had emptied out. There wouldn’t be any electronic evidence of that.”

  “But they knew exactly which offices to go to,” Sarah said.

  “Your names are on the wall outside them. Not that anyone would need even that. This wasn’t planned overnight. They’ve been studying your firm’s filing system, they’ve been watching you, for months.”

  “Even so,” Alex said, “I think we should contact security.”

  “No,” Ben said.

  “Why not?”

  “First, like I said, it’s a waste of time. Second, you’ve introduced me to enough people in your firm as it is. I don’t want the attention.”

  Sarah, pissed, started to say, Sorry to put you out, but managed not to.

  “You trust your boss?” Ben said. “The cowboy?”

  Alex wanted to say, I don’t trust anyone. Instead, he said, “Why? You think he’s involved?”

  Ben shrugged. “He was here early this morning.”

  “He keeps odd hours. Anyway, why would he do it?”

  “How should I know? He’s your boss.”

  “He’s making seven figures a year. I don’t think his motives would be financial.”

  Ben laughed. “Is it ever enough?”

  The room was quiet for a moment. “All right,” Sarah said, “option two. What are we talking about exactly?”

  Ben looked at Alex. “Can you work with that backup file?”

  “Of course,” Alex said.

  “Then do it. Grab a few days’ worth of gear, find a secure place to hole up, forget about everything else, and figure out what’s so special about this technology.”

  “It doesn’t sound like much,” Sarah said.

  “It’s not. But it beats Alex waiting around for someone to put a bullet in the back of his head.”

  She realized he was only talking about Alex holing up. What was she supposed to do? Two people were dead. Someone had stolen something from her office. They’d hacked the PAIR system, they’d broken into Alex’s house. The thought of the only two people in the world who understood what was happening just leaving her was frightening.

  “Yeah?” Alex said. “What’s Sarah supposed to do?”

  Sarah was so grateful she had to force herself not to smile at him.

  “The same thing you’re doing,” Ben said. “Lay low. Wait for you to figure out what the technology really does.”

  “I can figure that out faster with Sarah than I can alone.”

  Sarah blinked. Did that just come from Alex Treven?

  Ben shook his head. “I think it would be more secure if—”

  “If what?” Alex said. “If we separate? I don’t see how. And you said it yourself: the thing that’s ultimately going to make us secure is knowing why someone wants this technology badly enough to kill for it.”

  Ben scratched his cheek. “All right. Suit yourself.”

  Alex looked at Sarah. “Can you disappear for a few days?”

  She let out a long breath. “Maybe if I were sick … you’ve been sick, right? The flu?”

  “Until this morning, anyway,” Alex said. “Osborne saw me on my way in.”

  Sarah tried to smile. “I guess I could
catch what you had. And you could have a relapse.”

  Alex looked at Ben. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  Alex sighed. “Can you spend a little more time on this? A little more time with Sarah and me?”

  “I don’t think you really need me.”

  Alex put his palms on his desk as though seeking support, or trying to steady himself. “Yes, Ben, we do. We’re just a couple of lawyers, as you noticed. Look how fast you found me the last time I tried to ‘hole up’ on my own. Someone else could do the same. We need to stick together.”

  Ben looked out the window. He clenched a fist. The knuckles popped.

  “Stick together,” he said.

  Alex looked at him. “That’s right.”

  Ben nodded. “All right. But you two have your jobs, and I have mine. Your job is to figure out the technology. My job is everything else. I’m in charge. You don’t question me. You don’t lecture me. You do as I say. This is my world you’re in now, not yours. Understood?”

  Alex said, “Fine.”

  Ben looked at Sarah. Sarah returned his stare—-fucking control freak—but said nothing.

  “Understood?” he said again.

  “I understand you,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I understand you, too. Let me see your cell phones.”

  Sarah thought, Now what? But she said nothing. She handed Ben her phone. Alex did the same.

  Ben turned each unit off and dropped them into a leather bag on the desk. Sarah said, “What are you doing?”

  “You don’t question me,” Ben said.

  “I do if you just take my phone. And just because I’m not supposed to question you doesn’t mean you have to get off by never offering an explanation, either.”

  Ben chuckled. She wanted to slap him.

  “I know it’s hard for you to accept this,” he said, “but someone has gotten seriously into your lives. Your homes and workplaces. The cars you drive. The places you go. The things you do. Are you getting it now? I can guarantee you that if I were the one hunting you, I’d be glued to your cell phone signals unless you were giving me something even easier to follow. Do either of you have any kind of emergency roadside assistance or concierge service subscription along with a car GPS?”