by Robert Graf
Alex took her tablet and experimented. "No sound?"
She'd never asked. "They didn't mention it. I think that would be too creepy. They can override the password and use the system remotely."
He grinned at her. "I don't see the bedroom cam. You got it hidden?"
She grinned back. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Seriously, I vetoed that idea."
"Damn, I was hoping..."
She flushed. "Enough. Call your daughters and introduce me to the lawyer. I sent my resignation yesterday effective next Tuesday. I need advice soonest." She handed him the flash drive. "Here's the Viewer, load it on your tablet."
"I'll call Lynn first." He got up, "Phone's in the bedroom." Alex returned and sat next to her, her old bathrobe parting to reveal his wiry legs. He tapped a code and connected. "It's Dad. How's my budding lawyer?"
Ann couldn't mistake the loud “My God, Dad, what happened?".
"I had a little accident and have to take some sick leave." He rolled his eye at Ann. "Now don't panic. It was just an accident at work"
"Doctor says several weeks."
"No, I'm not at home; I'm staying with a friend in Petaluma to be near the doctor."
Ann concentrated on Alex's expression. It was obvious from his daughter’s reaction that now was not the time to ask for legal advice.
"She's a very good friend and was kind enough to offer me a place to stay." He sighed in exasperation. "I don't ask you about every boyfriend, do I? We agreed not to pry."
"Her name? It's Ann Grey."
Alex extended the phone. "You're on."
Ann warily grasped it and studied the young woman: short brown hair, Alex’s piercing blue eyes, and a longer nose. "Hello, Lynn? I’m Ann Grey. How are you this morning?"
The young woman scowled. "Don't try and sweet talk me. What's wrong with my father? What have you done to him?"
The anger startled her. "Your father's sitting in my kitchen; we've just finished breakfast. As for what's wrong with him, other than a lovely blue cast on his hand and a bandage on his face, he's fine."
"I saw his face." More silence. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?" her anger replaced by worry.
"Of course, I heard what the doctor told him." Don't mention the finger.
"You be good to him, put him back on."
"I promise," she replied, handing the phone back. "Your turn." What was it with daughters and fathers?
He spoke for some minutes. "Yes, hon, that would be great. I'll leave you an email with a list of clothes and the address. One very important point, make sure you call before you visit. Ann is a very busy woman and has to make plans well in advance."
"Yes, I love you too. See you soon." He gazed at Ann with a faint smile. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Ann chose her words with care. "She loves you. What will her reaction be to the guard? That explanation has to come from you." She plunged on. "I'm most concerned about involving you and your family. From everything I've learned about the bastards who bombed us and stole the prototype, it's me and anyone with direct knowledge about the EntCom who are in immediate danger. Anyone else is just collateral damage. That's frightening."
"Don't you think I've felt the same? An in-and-out visit is minimal risk. Anyway, my daughters, no matter how I tried to hide, would find me. I worry about you, and I'm not leaving. So there." He stuck his tongue out.
Ann grasped his good hand in both of hers. "Enough of the worries. Help me write an expose about the EntComs to post on the Web. I'm convinced that's the best way to nip this in the bud." Before she got them both killed.
"Who knows about it now?"
"Those with direct knowledge? I've made a list." She opened the document on her tablet and showed Alex:
Me and you
Jon's friend on the moon
Global – Hooper, MacDougal, Farid, techs, Patel?
MacDougal's acquaintance Swales and one other?
Farid's brother and his friends and ?
NASA – Morito, Toffler, Strang etc., Flight Control, Jove Explorer
Pratt Whitney – engineering VP, CEO, others?
Vatican – Isaac, his boss, Curia?
FBI – Winslow, Drew, assistant director, Houston office?
Behrendt Associates
His whistled, rather he tried and failed. Ann winced at the garbled sound. "That's a lot of folks. You set on spreading the word?"
"Yes. And I will fill you in, but not now."
His good eye narrowed. "I can’t help you if I’m kept in the dark, but sure, later. There are two working devices, NASA's and your stolen prototype?"
"NASA for certain, the prototype? I'll have to ask Farid." She beamed a smile. "I forgot to tell you, Farid escaped. He called MacDougal from London who said he sounded tired but in good spirits. It's the only good news I've had for weeks." Seeing his expression, she added, "And don't give me that hurt puppy-dog look. You’re the best news I've had."
"I accept your apology." He gestured toward her tablet. "Any one of these could be the 'loose-lips' suspect, even the Vatican."
She studied the list. "No, the ones who knew before the lab bombing, still alive that is, are me, Hooper, MacDougal, Farid, the techs and the Vatican. The real suspects have to be MacDougal's acquaintance or Farid's brother's friends."
"Your FBI agent must have figured that out."
She frowned. "I wouldn't know. She doesn't disclose anything, and that’s a major reason I want to broadcast this. What if they or another agency got it into its paranoid bureaucratic brain that the EntCom and I were national security risks? Global can take care of itself; I don't have an army of lawyers." She shook her head. "No, I want to get this done now."
"OK, but fashion the message so it's not obvious where it came from. What's common knowledge, things that don't reside exclusively in that lovely head of yours?"
"Let me think." What indeed? "It has to be NASA. Dr. Morito ran an experiment before that terrible spaceship accident brought out the capability. I flat told them and the engine people, so that's what we need to emphasize. And my newsbot found a hint on a website call Kidspeak?"
"What did you find?"
"Some kid complaining about his father bitching about a problem at work due to 'ent'."
"That's pretty thin, though it gives me an idea. Conspiracy stuff always draws attention, so imagine the father's company has something to do with the Jupiter ship. We say 'What is NASA refusing to discuss about the Jove Explorer accident? Our source tells us they're hiding...'" He trailed off. "Hiding what?"
Ann smiled. "You're good. Say they're hiding the fact that it wasn't an accident, but a deliberate act."
"I don't know, Ann, that's pretty inflammatory."
"But true." Seeing his frown, she continued. "I'm sorry, there's so much I haven't told you. While in Houston I stumbled onto why an EntCom message failed. Bottom line, the information supplied by Pratt Whitney was false. They didn't believe it, but I managed to convince them. That rumor must be all over the place by now, and I know the FBI is investigating."
His eyebrow raised, he shook his head. "You constantly amaze me. But you need to put the EntCom in the story."
“Yeah.” She gathered her thoughts and began:
"'What is NASA refusing to discuss about the Jove Explorer accident? Our sources tell us they're hiding the fact that it was a deliberate act discovered by EntCom operators. Our sources suspect NASA is hiding that knowledge due to an ongoing FBI investigation. That’s no solace for the victims' families. They have a right to know."
She showed her 'news item' to Alex.
"Jesus, Ann, that's going to piss people off. Are you sure you want that?"
Did she? Her stomach knotted. Would that get Jeanette in trouble? She stared at his blue cast, his bandaged face, and her own repaired hands. She stuck her leg out of her robe and studied the bandages. Damn right. I want to blow this thing wide open, shine a spotlight brighter than the sun on the whole sorry mess."
"Remember the fuss years ago when that guy hacked the government and got those secret emails and documents and posted them on the Web?"
"Vaguely, so?"
"What you're doing is akin to that."
"Not really, at least not at first. I'm pointing out one secret to reveal another, much bigger one to try and save our lives. If Global sells enough EntComs, maybe a similar situation could evolve, but who's got the millions of dollars to buy the things?" The answer was staring her in the face, she just didn't think that way. "If a cheap enough version could be produced, one anyone could purchase, all hell would break loose. I wonder if anyone at Global realizes that?"
"You’re a Global employee.”
“Technically. No way am I going to suggest that to Hooper. I’m finished with them.”
“In the meantime you'll be an obvious tattletale suspect."
"I’m not alone, NASA's full of potential leaks. I'm going to do it."
Alex regarded her with a resigned expression. "Don't forget to delete everything related to this from your tablet and phone."
"My phone? Why?"
His lips thinned in exasperation. "Ann, sometimes I can't believe how naive you are. Every time you receive or send it's recorded in a log that anyone can read if they have your phone."
"So I'm naive. After I send the message, show me what to do." Her phone, Winslow had given it to her at the hospital, what if..."Shit."
"What?"
"The FBI had my phone for a whole day. Of course they've gone through it, legal or not. I'd never know. What's in a log?"
"All calls, incoming and outgoing, and their codes and a date/time stamp and the nearest tower's lat/long. Look, use one of those anonymous websites. Buy a cheap pre-paid phone, and pay cash. Send your message and throw it away. Untraceable."
“I’m not James Bond, but OK, I'll think about it. When will your daughter show up?"
"In the next day or so, she's not known for patience." He yawned and winced. "I'm tired, and I hurt, I'm going to take a nap. Don't let me miss lunch." He got up, shambled to the bedroom and shut the door.
Ann regarded the closed door. Would they survive weeks living together?
"Chirp." Her phone demanded attention. Roger Hooper’s face appeared wearing his trademark arrogant expression. Before she could speak he cut her off.
“Dr. Grey, I’ll get right to the point. I read your resignation letter, and I wish you would reconsider. You've experienced personal tragedy and other distressing events, and so have I. We’ve had our differences, but you're discarding a bright future. With the exposure NASA has given to the EntComs, they will be a very important part of our government and commercial business, and you can be a critical part of their success."
Money, money, money. Now he needs her, but for how long? This was the closest to an apology she’d get. Was he feeling mortal? "I appreciate your concern and confidence in me; it’s just my heart's not in it. I need to get away and think for a while."
"I'll hold this letter until its activation date in the hope you'll change your mind. I wish you well." His face vanished.
If he'd offered to back a research project into fact checking, she'd have been sorely tempted. Hell, she’d have jumped at the chance. As things stood she had no choice.
Back to her anonymous posting. Was there anything else in the house she could use? Jon's phone and tablet were who-knew-where; she had hers, but couldn’t use them. She pulled open the throw-nothing-away drawer full of tools, duct tape, hooks, and other junk, and rummaged through it.
There, their startup's first tablet, dead as a doornail. Could it be charged? She plugged it into the charger and the LED winked on. Maybe. She'd check back in an hour or so. She opened her to-do list on her good tablet. Gotta make some plans.
Hours later she'd revised her rough set of objectives and priorities for the umpteenth time, leaving completion dates blank. Finances occupied the first three items: Insurance; cash-in stock options; get commission. Next: NDA; exotic matter (call Moshe); NASA (call Toffler); form company? A separate list labeled Personal: Memorial service (ashes?); Alex; Security; ID bombers (call Ian); Vatican (call Isaac).
She stretched and glanced at the wall clock, 12:15, and still in her robe. She snuck into the bedroom, got her stuff without waking Alex and used the guest bathroom.
Clean and dressed in worn pants and a sweatshirt, she felt ready to send her missive. The old tablet was charged, and amazingly the browser worked.
The anonymouse website instructions were simple: just select AnonEmail, fill out the required fields and send it. Piece of cake. For 'To:' she entered NothingButTruth; for 'Subject:' NASA secret; 'for Message: she pasted what she’d shown Alex. She mentally crossed her fingers and touched Submit; the window vanished. Oh yeah, security. She touched Wipe All Content and Settings. That should do it; time to wake Alex and fix lunch.
Lunch consisted of melted cheddar cheese sandwiches, half an apple each, and water. “Sorry, I usually don’t make lunch.”
Alex ate without speaking, then retreated to the bedroom to call his older daughter and read the latest NASA blogs.
Ann continued with her planning.
The door bell chimed. Who? She wasn't expecting anyone, and the guard hadn't called. Had to be O’Connor. She hurried to the front door and opened it.
The crew-cut O'Connor, carrying a leather briefcase, greeted her. "Dr. Grey, I've brought the contract. Is this a good time to go over it?"
Ann felt shabby in her sweatshirt and pants compared to his immaculate dark blue suit, though lately she hadn't been making fashion news. "Certainly, come in." She led the way into the kitchen, motioned him to a seat at the counter and seated herself.
He extracted a thick document and laid it in front of her.
It was huge. "Do you expect me to read, much less understand this?"
"It's our standard service contract. The important part is the summary where we itemize the specific services and their costs. The rest is, I admit, a lot of lawyerese spelling out in numbing detail the particulars. I encourage you to have it vetted by your lawyer before signing it."
She read the summary and the costs and mentally shivered. What choice did she have? Could Lynn look it over? "The items we discussed seem to be in order. How long do I have?"
"You've used up your deposit, and our accountants frown on extending credit, but I understand your circumstances. If you could have this signed by the end of the week and note any questions, just give it to the guard."
"I have to go into the City tomorrow."
“Was Ellen satisfactory? I read her account of yesterday's incident as well as the story in the paper. You seem to attract trouble yet somehow escape."
So far. She shivered at the memory. "Ellen behaved most professionally. If she hadn't prevented me from going back to retrieve Alex's bag, well, you'd have to make good on that insurance policy. "
He frowned. "Her report didn't mention that detail, just that she'd secured you safely in the reception area before the FBI arrived and took charge."
"Well, give her a bonus."
He grinned. "We don't do that, though there is profit sharing. If you feel strongly, a letter from you stating why would go into her file."
“I will.” She made a mental note to do so. "Can you prevent the media from bothering me?"
"Not legally. We can't prevent people, especially reporters, from doing their job, though we can make it difficult. In the reporter's case, if they want to knock on your door, best we can do is warn you."
He paused. "One other detail. We’re replacing your tablets and mobile devices with our secure versions. In addition I need a list of people you want to allow to contact you. No one else will be allowed through our firewall." He extracted two pages from his briefcase and offered it to her. "One for you and one for Mr. Baxter. Names and contact info, email or websites, whatever. Do not send this electronically, give it to the guard. I'll deliver the new devices Monday."
[Thu
rsday, Petaluma]
Ann woke and rolled over to snuggle against a warm Alex, but found cool sheets. She sat up. Something’s wrong. She donned her blue robe and padded barefoot out to the kitchen. Alex was seated at the counter in her tattered pink robe, sipping from a mug and reading articles on his tablet. She kissed the back of his neck. "Good morning, couldn't sleep?"
He swiveled around and hugged her with his good arm. "No, my hand hurts, and I didn't want to take any more Vicodin. I made a pot of coffee and linked to the website you hoped would print your rumor." He grinned, "Man, did they ever." He turned the tablet so she could read the screen. "Check it out."
At the top of the NothingButTruth page, in bold black letters, the headline screamed: NASA JUPITER SHIP SABOTAGED. She tapped the link. Images of Johnson Space center, pictures of Assistant Director Toffler and the Jove Explorer were prominently displayed. She scanned the article, sucking in her breath at the line "When reached by phone, Director Toffler denied the allegation, but when pressed about the FBI investigating EntCom irregularities, only offered 'I cannot comment on internal investigations.' "
"I need a cup of that stuff." She grabbed a dirty cup from the sink, rinsed it and filled it with hot coffee. "Did you try The Times, or Newsweek or whatever?"
He smiled. "Oh yeah, it's everywhere; the big guys are treating it as a rumor. I scanned a couple news feeds, KRON and KCRA, and both had short references to your website. You've definitely rattled their cages."
"I'm hoping some journalist or blogger will get past the sabotage part and dig into the EntCom 'irregularities.'"
