by Randy Dutton
“Yes. We found him in St. Lucia in the Caribbean. He changed his name and appearance, keeps a low profile, and now runs a bareboat charter.”
Swanson bared his teeth. “Did you break him? Did he tell you where she went?”
Gabriel shook his head. “He wasn’t much help. He was half scared to death that Jared was hunting him.”
“So he didn’t know she killed him?”
“Apparently not. Marv was very forthcoming after I told him she had lied to him that Jared was coming after him.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Marv had been given the impression you thought he had betrayed you.”
“He actually accepted that?”
“Like many in the crew, she intimidated him.”
“Anna’s a convincing liar.” Swanson exhaled and his body relaxed. “So where’d you dump his body?”
“I didn’t.”
Swanson tensed.
Gabriel explained, “He wired me the money he had left over, which is quite a lot of the five million. I let him keep the boat, but he’s on notice that if we need his services, he’s to comply without question.”
“Why didn’t you—”
“Kill him? Because we wouldn’t gain anything and the authorities would probe his absence.”
“So you’ve hit another dead-end tracking her,” Swanson grumbled.
“Well, at least we know one confederate that’s not helping her.”
Chapter 33
August 24, morning
Colorado
The Rocky Mountains glowed in the morning sun. Anna’s bare feet were perched on the dashboard, a Starbucks coffee was in one hand, and her tablet balanced on her legs. Her finger rapidly clicked through electronic pages.
Pete turned down the satellite radio. “What’s got you so engrossed?”
Her toes stopped moving to the music. “Oh, I’m just checking emails and cloud files.”
“You’re cleaning out old data?”
She hesitated. “No. I downloaded new files.”
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
“Now before you go apoplectic, I did it safely through dummy servers, and a system that wipes out tracking data. I also replace my tablet frequently so the hardware codes change.”
Pete grumbled. “Didn’t you say that anyone can be tracked down if there’s sufficient motivation?”
She turned off the tablet and laid it on the console. She turned to him, and tucked in her leg. “Yeah, and that brings up something I need to ask you.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” He pulled behind a slow semi in the right lane.
“I’m not sure.... Look, I destroyed a lot of software in France.”
“Weren’t the thumb drives you brought back everything you needed?”
Anna shook her head. “No. They were important, but mostly historical files. We need to make a stop in Denver.”
His brow lifted. “What’s there?”
“Remember I mentioned a guy named Aspen?”
“The hacker.”
“He’s more than that.... He’s a member of Anonymous.”
Pete’s eyes narrowed. “The anarchist group?”
She shrugged. “One person’s anarchy is another person’s freedom fighter.... Anyway, the SCADA device? It was his design and he knows my real name. Over the years he’s been a great source for tools, and has kept me current on zero-day exploits—”
“On what?”
“Security holes the software companies don’t know exist in their own releases.”
“Is that how your operation hacked into companies?”
“One of many.... Now I need his help.”
Pete’s voice raised an octave. “Nobody from your past knows you’re in America. Is compromising your location worth whatever he could provide you?”
“I think so.”
Pete took a deep breath. “Alright, but I insist on being nearby.”
“I’ll set it up.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and added sweetly, “Sometimes it’s worth gambling on a person.”
Chapter 34
August 24, noon
Denver Civic Center
Anna sat alone at a bistro table at Denver’s Civic Center gourmet food truck courtyard. A floppy woven hat shadowed her face from the midday sun while a loose-fitting long-sleeved blouse and one-size-too-big jeans slightly concealed her slim figure. In the background Lonesome Traveler, a local acoustic bluegrass band, played.
Several tables over, Pete was eating a hot dog while trying to look nonchalant.
Anna picked at her plate of shredded beef, black beans, and plantains covered in mozzarella.
“Hello...Olga,” came a familiar resonate voice from behind – she didn’t turn around. A tall man in his mid-30s brushed Fuzz strands off the table and chair, put down a tray of enchiladas and a Coors beer, and sat opposite her. His tanned skin and warm smile contradicted the social misfit reputation of most computer hackers.
“Hello, Aspen,” she responded quietly. She removed her large sunglasses and clipped them to her blouse.
“Your cellphone disabled?” His voice was cautionary. He cut into the cheese-coated tortilla with a spork and chewed.
“GPS is off and the battery’s out.”
“I never expected to hear from you again.... By the way, thanks for the bonus you paid at Black Hat. After you bugged out, I half expected payment to fall through.”
“Everyone deserves a retirement,” she said softly, studying his Rockies ball-cap shaded eyes for betrayal.
“And perhaps I should thank you for not giving me one of those Krugerrands. Some of my associates are in jail, and a few others have been unceremoniously recruited by the FBI.”
She smiled thinly. “I like you too much.”
“Really? Think I buy that?” He chuckled sarcastically. “More likely you knew I’d have checked for a trap.”
“Now why would you suspect I’d do that?” Her tight lips curved up at the corners.
“Because the tools you’ve bought from me over the years have nefarious uses. You’re not to be trusted.”
“Fair enough. I also knew you were too smart.” Her smile widened.
He nodded in satisfaction, then his head motioned to her plate. “How’s the pabelion? I’ve always liked Venezuelan dishes.”
“It’s good, not too spicy.”
“And here I always thought you liked...spicy.” His eyes shifted left to right, then centered. “Nice meeting location. Big, diverse crowd...lots of noise...easy exits. You alone?”
She subtly nodded.
“Figures. You always came across as a maverick. I’m glad you made it out of Vegas unscathed. I got concerned when your booth closed early. Do I need to worry?”
“There’s no link to you. Not on my end, anyway.... Thanks for your vague warning about my comrades.”
“No problem.... I got your wire transfer yesterday. Here are the updated computer hacking tools you requested.” He passed a napkin forward.
She slipped out the thumb drive then patted her ruby painted lips with the paper.
He leaned forward. “So what else can I do for you...Miss Picard?”
She grimaced. “Since you know who I am, I need you to do a job.”
“Which is?”
“Change my DNA code, fingerprints, and facial recognition data points on all government databases.”
A brow rose. “Swanson and you on the outs?”
“I’ve severed ties with him.”
He emitted a quiet whistle. “And now the world’s wealthiest man is hunting you. I get it.”
“Something like that.”
He leaned back. “You’re proposing quite a project. It requires accessing some of the most secure systems, changing a lot of data, and exiting without leaving a trace. Deleting your files would be easier.”
“No good. The absence would alert people, and they’d reinstall the points and double their effor
ts.”
“Fair assessment. Subtly changing them won’t draw suspicion.” He cocked his head to study her face. “Some of your freckles are applied, aren’t they?”
She smiled but kept silent.
“They’re tough to do right...which yours are. That helps defeat the geometric databases that look for distinguishing marks. And you highlight your high-boned cheeks lower than normal, and your eye sockets appear narrower and deeper. Definitely helps against photometric software. Aren’t your eyes really deep blue, not brown?”
She nodded.
“Good that you’re masking them. Iris scans are very accurate, and be aware the feds are digitizing drivers license photos and other photo IDs.”
Her jaw tightened.
“And, of course you’re wearing a straight hair wig with long bangs, covering up your long wavy blond hair.”
Her head cocked as a brow raised.
“Come on, Anna—”
“Don’t use my name,” she rebuked.
He lowered his voice. “Sorry.... There’re thousands of high-def pictures of you on the Internet, often on the arm of a celebrity...usually European. You knew hobnobbing with the glitterati had its price in lost anonymity. And the Utah Data Center keeps it all, not to mention the National Counterterrorism Center.”
“I can’t help that,” she said flatly. “It was a different time.”
His forehead furrowed. “Different time? Some photos were taken just a couple months ago. Hell, I’ve got pictures of you walking out of the Maldives UN Conference with Swanson.... Well, at least you’re wearing the right accouterments to inhibit detection.... Yeah, you’re doing it right...now.”
“Thanks. I try to stay on top of security software developments. Anything in particular you think I should know?”
“Have you ditched your clothes?”
“Excuse me?” Her voice rose slightly. She glanced down at her outfit and back at him. She whispered, “What do you mean?”
“Google Glass eyewear apps include one that tracks clothing and jewelry items from a distance. Anyone wearing those glasses could be alerted to an item’s color or pattern you’re known to wear.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve changed my style. Guess now I’ll have to avoid certain designers.”
“I’d suggest staying with nondescript American fashions.... And be careful about buying any computer printed clothes. Word has it the NSA has hacked into apparel manufacturers to embed scannable codes into fabric patterns to enhance tracking.”
She groaned. “Any advice on Tempora?”
“UK-US total surveillance program? Quite a lot. First, please tell me you’re not using any finger swiping security software.”
“Why?”
“NSA’s capable of downloading the fingerprint data from laptops and other electronics, and you’ve only got ten digits, which are nearly impossible to change.”
She nodded slowly.
He continued. “About your cell phone...you only using prepaids?”
“I am.”
“Good. ECHELON’s capturing all cell phone traffic. Don’t ever use a smart phone.... NSA’s using Raytheon’s Rapid Information Overlay Technology – RIOT – to analyze online data to track targets.”
“Yeah. I presume NSA’s program captures and analyzes everything.... I go through a lot of electronics.”
“Good.... Well, next on the list will be the Next Generation Identification System. I’ve got a connection with Lockheed Martin Transportation and Security Solutions...they did the software integration for Homeland Security. That upgraded the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System a few years back to include latent services, facial recognition and multi-modal biometrics. That’s your most immediate threat. It interconnects the local, state, federal, and international partners.”
“I understand...nowhere’s safe.”
“Some places are safer than others. With the addition of TrapWire—”
“Their global eye-in-the sky endeavor?”
“Uh huh, they now tracks movement and public datasets and transmits everything, including live video, to their massive data fusion centers.”
“I try to avoid public places with cameras, wear different hats...change my hair.”
“You’ll need to change more than that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Big brother has the means of identifying people by their unique heartbeat, breath, and gait.”
Her face soured.
“Oh, we’ve just gotten started. Beware the Intellistreet cameras.”
“Because of the photo recognition?”
“That and they have audio capture capability. And don’t forget the gunshot pinpointing sensors. They’ve been modified.”
“Just great,” she mumbled sarcastically.
“Are you on any social media...Facebook, LinkedIn, Google Plus?”
“Of course not.”
He chuckled. “I can only imagine the wide societal mix who would ‘friend’ you.... Use Google?”
“Seldom. I prefer the Tor browser anonymity to conceal my IP address.”
He paused a moment. “Careful.... Tor’s mostly used by illegal and shady companies.”
“Like porn? Sure...so what? It makes hiding amongst the weeds easier.... And I use a disposable laptop for web searches, and routinely replace it.”
“Wise, but make sure you vary your computer switching timing. Distinct patterns on searches may reveal you. Browser companies and the NSA have gotten p-r-e-t-t-y cozy.”
“Good advice.”
“You know about PRISM and Upstream?”
“Who doesn’t? NSA’s tracking of Internet history, telephone use—”
“And credit card and check purchases through ISP servers and pathways.”
“I know enough to stay paranoid.”
He chuckled. “It’s the only way to stay alive and out of prison...or the morgue. So how do you pay for your...expensive lifestyle?”
“I’m covered. That’s all I’ll say,” she said flatly.
He opened his hands as if to surrender. “Hey...just trying to help...because there are surreptitious purchasing groups that keep acquisitions anonymous...for a small fee.”
“If I need one, I’ll contact you.”
“Okay.” He paused. “You have any criminal history?”
“I’ve never been arrested.”
His eyes narrowed. “Evasive.... How about investigated?”
She hesitated and pursed her lips. “Yeah, I may be on Interpol’s radar, and State Department’s, and FBI’s.”
“Ouch!” He slightly pulled back.
“Tell me about it. I was a suspect in a little incident two months ago...but it was dropped.”
“Dropped...is not deleted. I’ll try to access any investigation where your name was recorded on the databases, then alter the photos.”
“That’ll help.”
“Do you want me to check for an Interpol ‘red notice’?”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t think there’s a hidden arrest warrant, but, yes, I’d like to be sure.”
“That’ll be easy.”
She momentarily glanced down, then leaned forward, and whispered, “One more request. I want you to delete any reference to me having systemic lupus erythematosus.”
His eyes widened sympathetically. “You’ve got lupus?”
“Something I’ve been able to keep off radar. I don’t want treatment used to track me.”
His voice was soft. “I’m sorry. Sure, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” She let out a long exhalation.
He wrote a name on a napkin and slid it to her. “Try this face moisturizer. It subtly changes skin texture.”
“How?”
“It’s got nano- and macroscopic particles that blur fine lines and wrinkles...that’s what the new face recognition algorithms track. The lotion’s reflectivity throws off visual and infra-red camera photosensors. Stuff’s a bi
t expensive but no doubt your nest egg has no bounds. Stay away from friends and tourists who love to take and post photos.... And don’t lower your guard.”
She leaned forward, her eyes glanced at the napkin, then patted her lips and dropped the wadded paper into her partly filled cup of cola. “Thanks for the advice.... Can you do it?”
“Sure. Say 50 g’s.”
She nodded. “I’ll give you that and another 50 grand annually if you check weekly to see if someone catches on to the manipulation...then you alert me through the cloud.”
His eyes warmed. “Deal. I’ll watch your back.”
She smiled. “How quickly?”
“The swap will take a week, maybe longer. I have to work far from my base...just in case. Do you have the face recognition data points you want swapped in?”
“Use this.” She passed him a napkin surreptitiously containing her thumb drive.
“I’ll get right on it.” His eyes momentarily dropped. “Your svelte body’s going to draw attention regardless. No matter how you mask yourself, you’ve got that ‘x-essence’. You’re a classic beauty.”
“I’ve been told that before...when I was younger.” She thought back to a couple modeling agents who had approached her in UCLA, but they backed off when confronted by her acerbic attitude.
“Wear looser clothes,” he said.
“Giving fashion advice?”
“Yes. Ignore fashion and go for frumpy and earth tones.... And before I forget, there are iPhone apps that calculate facial beauty based upon the 29 data points.”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips tensed. “You’ve calculated my score?”
“Of course.... You fascinate me.” He cleared his throat. “But that’s not the point. With a 9.7 score, every smart phone is a potential reveal.... Consider plastic surgery.”
“I’ll take making myself uglier under advisement,” she scoffed.
“Not uglier...just different.” He leaned in closer, and whispered, “Anna, if you’re looking for a refuge...stay with me. I can protect you. We’d make a great team.”
Her brow lifted. “You mean...couple?”
“Well...I didn’t want to be too forward...but yes.”
She felt a kinship with this handsome, athletic man. She put her sunglasses back on and whispered back, “I appreciate the offer, but as you said...I operate solo.”
