by J. C. Fields
“Yuan and she collaborated on a paper about a year before her death. Minh was a math professor at the University of California at Santa Cruz.”
Gibbs nodded. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Putting the list back in his sport coat inside pocket, he said, “Minh was killed the next summer. He was the last one in California.”
Maria Simms stared at Gibbs but remained quiet.
He continued, “And you didn’t recognize any of the other names?”
“No.”
He pulled another piece of paper from his coat pocket. “Does the name Dorian Monk mean anything to you?”
A shake of her head was his answer.
He returned the paper to his pocket. “Thank you, Judge. You’ve been very helpful.”
***
The boarding gate for his flight back east was crowded. Jimmie Gibbs leaned against the glass wall across from the gate and away from the other passengers, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Kruger was on the other end of the call.
“Sean, here’s the thing. There’s a connection between the victims. Rachel Lee is checking with the families of the other victims to see if they recognize any of the other victims’ names.”
“Good work, Jimmie. JR is using the names you sent him. He should have something by tomorrow, he thinks.”
“Have him check the name Dorian Monk.”
“Why?”
“A feeling.”
“Want to explain?”
“I believe if there are any connections between the victims it will be professional or situational. If that’s the case it’s also the reason no one has connected the dots.”
“That makes sense.”
“Two of the victims were mathematicians.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Dorian Monk is the only math professor on our suspect list.”
“I’ll have JR check on him first.”
The boarding announcement for his flight interrupted their conversation. “I have to go, Sean. I talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, Jimmie.” He paused. “By the way, nicely done.”
Chapter 10
Springfield, MO
Pointing to the computer screen, JR said, “Of the five names Jimmie sent, that is the only one without a LinkedIn page or a social media presence.”
Kruger put on his half-readers and leaned over. He straightened and turned to Jimmie. “Dorian Monk, just like you suspected?”
Gibbs remained quiet as he listened.
JR continued, “I’ve conducted multiple searches for all five names. All five are currently teaching at different universities across the country. All but one has been at their current school for more than three years. Monk hasn’t. He’s registered with the American Mathematics Society and has numerous papers published in academic publications. The address given to the AMS is a post office box in Covington, Kentucky. He lists his current position as an adjunct professor of advanced mathematics at Hendrick University in Kentucky.”
Kruger placed his hand on his chin and tapped his lips. “Is he still on the faculty?”
“Yes.”
Turning to Kruger, Gibbs asked, “What’s an adjunct professor?”
“Think of it as a contract professor, someone who only works part-time and is hired on a semester to semester basis. They are generally on a non-tenured career track and go from college to college, depending on what they teach. A lot of the ones I’ve known had day jobs and taught night school.” He paused and asked, “Where is this Hendrick college, JR?”
“Across the river from Cincinnati in northern Kentucky.” He paused. “Smack dab in the middle of the most recent cluster Alan found.”
“Sandy is due back from Atlanta this afternoon. That was the first cluster Alan identified.” Kruger pursed his lips. “He told me he couldn’t find any connections between the victims. To him it felt like a dead end.”
“Not necessarily.” JR was staring at what appeared to be an ID photo on his monitor. He pointed toward it. “Look at that.”
Kruger focused on the picture. “I’ll be damn. What college?”
“Brighten University in Atlanta.”
On the screen was an agitated young man who had probably protested having his picture taken. The name on the ID read D. Monk, Mathematics Department.
Kruger crossed his arms. “That puts him in three of the four clusters. How many years was he at Brighten?”
“He was only there for two semesters.” He paused, turned toward the two men standing behind him and smiled. “Our Dr. Monk spent four years at Carlton State University in Morrow, Georgia. The first murder occurred there and just before he moved to Brighten.”
As Kruger studied the picture, his expression remained neutral. “Okay gentlemen, I want to know everything we can learn about Dorian Monk, PhD.”
Jimmie Gibbs nodded. “I’ll start with the military and see if he ever served.”
“Good.”
JR returned his attention to his computer screen. “I’ll find out where he got his PhD and backtrack from there.”
With a nod, Kruger said, “I’ll have the bureau do a deep dive on him.” He paused for a second. “Guys, keep it low-keyed. There’s always the possibility he isn’t our suspect and I don’t want some rookie FBI agent finding out and rushing over to Hendrick College to arrest the guy.”
Both JR and Gibbs said in unison, “Got it.”
***
Barbara Whitlock’s position as an analyst for the FBI stretched back as far as Kruger could remember. Having worked with her on numerous cases, he knew her results to be exceptional. She was also discreet. Scrolling through his list of contacts on his cell phone, he found her direct number—a number only a select group of agents possessed—and pressed the send icon.
The call was answered on the fourth ring.
“Well, if it isn’t Sean Kruger. Is this a social call or business?”
Kruger smiled. Barbara always asked the same question when he called. “Can’t I call just to say hello?”
He heard a deep sigh. “You can but you never do. You never call unless you want something.”
“That isn’t fair, Barbara. I don’t always call needing something.”
“That is just so much BS, Agent Kruger.” She chuckled. “What can I do for you this morning?”
“I need background on someone.”
“As you always do. Who is it this time?”
“A man named Dorian Monk. He’s a mathematics professor currently teaching at Hendrick University in Kentucky.”
“Do you have a social security number for him?”
He read off the number.
“How do you spell the name?”
Kruger told her.
“What all do you need on him?”
“Any and everything you can find. I need to know if he’s ever been arrested, and if so, for what.”
“Is this related to Alan’s death?”
“Yes, Barbara, it could be.”
“Glad you told me. I’m a week behind and this request just jumped to the top of the pile. Say hello to that lovely wife of yours, Sean. Tell her everyone in this department is still jealous of her.”
“I will, Barbara, and tell Bob hello for me.”
The call ended and Kruger sat back in his chair in the conference room. They were making progress, but time was slipping away and that was one commodity he did not possess in ample quantities.
***
JR and Kruger leaned against the railing on Kruger’s back deck. Both nursed beers as they watched darkness descended over the back yard.
“There’s not a lot of information out there on Dorian Monk, Sean.”
“I was afraid of that. I talked to Barbara Whitlock today. She called back late this afternoon and told me he doesn’t have a criminal record either as a juvenile or adult. What did you find?”
“Not much. I did find his early student records. He attended an elementary school in Casper until the a
ge of ten, but there’s a gap after that until he goes to college.”
“What kind of gap?”
“I can’t find where he went to high school.”
“Do you think he was homeschooled?”
“It would make sense.”
“What about his parents?”
Shaking his head, JR said, “I found their obituaries. They died a couple of years apart, after he went to college. Cause of death was not stated.”
“Where did Monk do his undergraduate work?”
“Full scholarship to Northwestern University, got his BS in mathematics in three years.”
Kruger whistled softly. “What about his post-graduate work?”
“MIT.”
“I take it he’s smart.”
JR nodded. “MIT rated his IQ at over 160.”
“Damn.”
“There was also a notification in his student file about his antisocial tendencies.”
Turning to look at his friend in the dark, Kruger asked, “How antisocial?”
“Lived alone, no roommates, didn’t join study groups or associate with anyone away from classes. He very seldom met with his advisor until time to complete his PhD.”
“Not unusual for someone that smart, but I’m curious about what prompted the note in his student file.”
JR shook his head. “There wasn’t any explanation, just the notations I mentioned.”
“Huh.”
“One other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a symposium at Hendrick College next week. Guess who is heading up one of the sessions?”
Kruger’s eyebrows rose. “Monk?”
A nod was JR’s answer.
“What’s his topic?”
After taking a sip of beer, JR said, “Apparently, he published a paper on computer algorithms that attracted the attention of the FBI Cyber Crimes Division.”
“I thought you said he’s a mathematician.”
JR nodded. “He is.”
“I think we need to crash this little party. You still have your FBI credentials, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I think we need to have a chat with Doctor Dorian Monk.”
“Kind of what I thought you’d say.”
“How do we get invited?”
“Already taken care of. We’re both registered for his workshop.”
“I won’t understand any of it, JR.”
“You don’t need to.”
***
Kruger opened the door to Kristin’s room and checked to make sure she was asleep and properly covered. Being a restless sleeper, she sometimes kicked the covers off before falling asleep. He quietly entered the room and adjusted the sheet and blanket. As he stared down at the sleeping little girl, he felt a momentary pang of guilt at the amount of time his upcoming out-of-town trip would require.
Satisfied she was sleeping and comfortable, he exited, leaving her door slightly ajar. His next stop was Mikey’s room. A complete opposite of his sister, he could sleep through a violent thunderstorm without moving a muscle. Kruger adjusted his blanket and went to his and Stephanie’s bedroom.
She was already in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. As he entered, she said softly, “Shut the door.”
He smiled, closed their door and slipped under the sheets. She scooted over and placed her arm over his chest and her head on his shoulder. As he wrapped his arm around her, he felt bare skin.
She said, “How many more trips do you think you’ll need to make?”
“A few. Why?”
“Just curious. While I’m not looking forward to your retirement, I am looking forward to not having you gone anymore.”
He remained quiet as he rubbed her bare back and stared at the dark ceiling. “Steph?”
“Yes.”
“Paul wants me to think about taking a promotion so I don’t have to retire.”
She stiffened but did not pull back.
“I told him no.”
Raising her head, she looked at him. “Why not?”
“We’d have to move to DC and I refuse to do that.”
She put her head back on his shoulder. “If it keeps you with the FBI, it might not be so bad.”
“No, it would be horrible. I detest DC. Besides, it would disrupt your new career. While I’m sure there are good neighborhoods available, I don’t want to raise the kids there.”
Without responding, she slipped her hand under his T-shirt and caressed his chest.
He continued, “I’m not sure what I want to do yet, but the more I think about it, the more I know I don’t want to move. This is our home. Brian and his family are here—the kids are happy in school and you’re just getting started with your teaching career.”
“I am.” Her hand moved lower to his abdomen.
“Like I told Paul, it’s time I thought of my family first and what I want to do second.” He kissed her lips as she slipped her hand inside his boxer shorts.
Chapter 11
Hendrick University
“I see no need to meet with anybody from the FBI.”
“It’s not a request, Dorian. The President of the University is involved—it’s more of a requirement for renewing your contract. He was hoping you would agree without resorting to threats.”
“Maybe I don’t want my contract renewed.”
Harvey Copeland took a deep breath. Monk was an asset to the department, but sometimes his complete lack of cooperation with anything outside of the classroom was simply not worth it. “That would be up to you, but I’m told the FBI agent is with the Cyber Crime division and would like to consult with you about one of your recent papers.”
“Will they pay for the consulting?”
“I doubt it. You can add it to your resume; consultant, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Hmmm…”
“Yes or no, Dorian?”
“Very well, I will meet with him. But I do it under protest.”
“Which is your prerogative.”
“Where will we be meeting?”
“I’ve scheduled the faculty meeting room.”
***
Dorian Monk, PhD walked into the room to find two individuals waiting for him. One was tall and in his late fifties, the other in his mid-forties, of average height and weight with thinning hair and wire rim glasses. Both wore casual slacks—the older a navy sport coat over a white oxford shirt, the younger man an untucked black polo shirt.
The older of the two offered his hand, which Monk ignored.
Instead he stared at each with a blank expression. “I’m Doctor Dorian Monk. Who am I addressing?”
With a sudden understanding of the type of personality they were dealing with, FBI Profiler Sean Kruger nodded toward his friend. “This is JR Diminski. He’s with the FBI Cyber Crime Division and I’m Special Agent Sean Kruger.”
Monk squinted and stared at JR. “Your name is familiar, have we met.”
JR shook his head. “Can’t say that we have.”
“I don’t forget names. We’ve met somewhere.”
“Possibly. Do you attend Black Hat?”
“On occasion, when they ask me.”
“It could have been there. I attend every year.”
“Maybe.” He folded his arms. “What area of Cyber Crime is your specialty, Agent Diminski?”
JR said with a sly smile, “Computer attacks and security.”
Monk did not respond right away. Instead he tilted his head slightly. “Where did you go to school?”
“MIT.”
“As did I. That’s probably where I heard your name.”
“Maybe that’s it.” JR smiled slightly. While at MIT, JR had been known by a different name.
As JR hid his surprise, Monk’s attention turned to Kruger. “What are your qualifications for attending this conference, Agent Kruger?”
The older FBI agent’s expression remained neutral as he hid his amusement at the mat
hematician’s attempt to control the meeting. “Doctor Monk, I have a PhD in Clinical Psychology and twenty-five years of experience as a profiler with the bureau. JR and I are currently working on an investigation I can’t discuss, but it involves computers and algorithms. That’s why we’re here, to learn as much as possible about the subject.”
Monk looked at JR and then back at Kruger. With a slight nod, he said, “Very well. What did you want to discuss?”
JR smiled. Round one to Kruger.
The room contained a conference table with eight chairs. Kruger and JR sat across from the professor as Monk placed his backpack in front of him erecting a subconscious barrier between the two FBI agents and himself.
JR started the conversation. “Dr. Monk, I read your recent paper on Machine Learning Algorithms.”
Monk nodded.
“Do you believe your model can be used to help a computer learn the strengths and weaknesses of any given security firewall?”
“That was the purpose of the paper, agent. Modern society has become too dependent on computers and the internet.”
“I don’t disagree. But, if your assumptions in the paper are correct, they would make most computer firewalls obsolete.”
A glare was his first response. “They are not assumptions. They are mathematical expressions. But you are correct in your assessment of their importance.”
“Aren’t you letting the proverbial genie out of the bottle?”
“My dear FBI Agent, the genie was let out of the bottle in the late 1960s when the US Department of Defense developed packet switching to allow multiple computers to communicate on a single network.”
JR tilted his head slightly. “Do you believe developing the internet was a mistake, Doctor Monk?”
“A mistake, yes. Was it inevitable? Yes. Someone somewhere would have developed it. Mankind is in a race to see who can design the last invention that will destroy us all.”
Pausing, JR narrowed his eyes. “That’s a little dark, don’t you think, professor?”
Monk shrugged.
Kruger suddenly realized JR knew something about Monk’s paper he had not revealed. He sat back and listened, understanding only parts of the discussion that followed.
