by Dee Davis
“We’ll need your computer,” Owen said.
“But I told you, there’s nothing there,” he protested, with a frown.
“You never know.” Owen shrugged. “Might as well let our people look at it.”
“Fine. It’s over there. On the desk.” He nodded toward a rolltop in the corner. “Can I pack a few things?”
“No.” Tyler shook her head, the conviction growing that they were on borrowed time. “We’ll get you whatever you need when we get you to safety.”
Owen picked up the computer and they started for the door.
“Wait,” Smitty said, his brow furrowed as he focused on something. “There’s a flash drive. I use it to transfer data from my computer at the center to the computer here. Easier than lugging around a laptop.”
“Do you back everything up?” Tyler asked.
“Just the important things. Like I said, files from work.”
“What about the emails? Did you back them up?”
“Not purposely, no, but the program does everything for me, and to be honest I don’t know exactly what all that includes. I just access whatever I need and ignore the rest. But it’s certainly in better shape than the computer. So it might be worth a look.” He eyed them both hopefully, and Tyler realized that he genuinely wanted to help.
“Sure. Why not? It can’t hurt. Where is it?” she asked.
“In the bedroom, I think. I usually leave it on the bureau. But I haven’t been following a normal routine. I haven’t been in to work in a while. I wanted to be here with Vivianne.”
“Well, why don’t we see if we can find it,” Tyler said, wondering if maybe they’d finally been handed a break.
“I’ll be outside,” Owen called. “I want to check in with Sunderland and let them know what’s happening. They should be able to make arrangements for Smitty from their end.”
Tyler nodded and followed her father’s friend down the hall.
Unlike the rest of the house, the bedroom was neat as a pin. An empty hospital bed sat next to the window, flanked by a table covered with medicine bottles. A vase of dying flowers sat on the windowsill, the browning petals drooped and forlorn.
“She loved tulips,” Smitty said, following Tyler’s line of sight. “I bought her fresh ones every day. I just couldn’t bring myself to throw the last of them out.”
“I can understand that. It’s hard to let go. Is there a picture or something you want to take with you?” she asked, not sure why she was trying to be kind. “Something to remind you of Vivianne?”
“Yes, over here.” He pointed to a group of photographs, reaching down to pick one up. “This is from our wedding.” Tyler obediently came over for a look, but stopped when she recognized a picture of Smitty and her father. The two of them stood at the opening of a tent, arms thrown around each other in that casual way of men who are fast friends. So much had changed. Her eyes filled with tears, and she angrily pushed them away.
“I loved your father,” Smitty said, his eyes on the photo, his voice hoarse with regret. “He was one of the best men I ever knew. I was proud to have called him friend. If I’d known… if I’d had a choice…”
“What’s done is done,” she said, shaking her head, determined to maintain control. There was nothing to be gained in losing it now. “Just get the flash drive. We need to keep moving.”
He nodded, his face tight with anguish as he scooped up the device along with his wallet and keys. “Here,” he said. “You take it.”
She nodded, and they made their way back to the front of the house. On the porch, Smitty paused, his face twisting into a wry attempt at a smile. “It’s stupid, I know, but can you hang on a minute? I need to lock up.”
“Fine,” she said, heading down the steps toward Owen, who was standing in the yard, talking on the phone. He started to smile, and then his face shuttered with alarm.
“Move,” he shouted, diving forward, tackling her hard enough to drive her down into the grass, his body covering hers as the house exploded, the ground shaking with the force of the blast, a fiery ball of smoke and debris shooting high into the evening sky.
The sound of the explosion reverberated down the street and for a moment, they lay still, her heart pounding against his. Then he rolled off her, his face concerned. “Are you all right?” he asked as she pushed up to a sitting position.
“I think so,” she said, releasing a slow breath. “It all happened so fast. How did you know?”
“Instinct.” He shook his head. “Or maybe I heard something, I have no idea really.”
“Well, I didn’t hear anything. I was just walking down the steps and whoosh, the whole house went up.”
“But I was there,” he interjected, reaching over to pull a piece of debris from her hair. “I just wish I’d been able to do something more.”
“Something for Smitty, you mean.” She trailed off, staring at what was left of the house. The front porch was completely gone, a gaping hole where there used to be a front door. There was no sign of her father’s friend. “I don’t think there’s anything we could have done. The bomb must have been triggered off the lock on the front door. If he hadn’t sequestered himself over his wife’s death, it probably would have blown sooner. Then we’d never have had the chance to question him.”
“Serendipity in the worst kind of way,” Owen said, reaching down to help her up. “At least he’s with his wife now,” Owen said, his eyes on the house, a trace of grief etched across his face. “Maybe that’s the silver lining in all of this.”
“You believe in an afterlife?” Tyler asked, surprised at the severity of Owen’s reaction.
“Not really, no. But there’s a part of me that would like for it to be true.” He shook his head. “Sorry for the mumbo jumbo, but it’s just such a bloody waste. You know?”
“Man’s inhumanity to man,” Tyler agreed. “There’s a reason it’s a global theme.”
“Well, I, for one, get pretty damn tired of being a firsthand witness.”
“You and me both.” She lifted her eyes to the burning rubble, the sound of sirens filling the air. “But maybe it’s not a complete loss.” She opened her hand to reveal the flash drive. “Thanks to this little guy, at least we’re still in the game.”
CHAPTER 15
Well, I can’t get anything off the damn thing,” Tyler said, pulling the flash drive out of her computer. “It’s either got some kind of crazy encryption or there was never anything on it to begin with. My laptop recognizes that there’s something in the UBS slot but it isn’t reading the drive.” She tossed the device onto the table, leaning back in the hotel chair. “Maybe Smitty lied.”
“Or maybe it’s just something with your machine,” Owen offered. “We’ll be at Sunderland tomorrow, we can turn it over to Harrison then.”
“Or Jason,” she said automatically, her objection to Owen and Harrison being on the team more rote now than anything. “Although you’d think I could work out how to access the thing. What time is our flight?”
“Crack of dawn,” Owen said, looking out the window. “Assuming the weather holds.”
Tyler followed his gaze. The clouds were still threatening, although the rain seemed to have ended for now. The storm had started just as the emergency vehicles had arrived at Smitty’s, the wind and lightning making securing the scene even more difficult. They’d stayed until well past dark, huddled beneath umbrellas and makeshift canopies, determined to make sure the rain didn’t wash away evidence. Unfortunately, as she’d expected, there was very little left.
There was nothing at all of Smitty, except a few charred bones and his wedding ring. She’d found a bit of the trigger lodged in a piece of the door lock, which confirmed her suspicion about point of origin. Beyond that, however, there was nothing substantial.
She’d probably have stayed on, but Owen had insisted that there was nothing more to be done. So they’d checked into a hotel and she’d worked on the flash drive while he arranged for a flight to
New York and ordered dinner—such as it was.
Her hamburger had left something to be desired, and judging from the remains of Owen’s omelet, it hadn’t been much better. Although in truth, she wasn’t really hungry. She’d seen what bombs could do, so that wasn’t anything new. But she’d never seen someone blown to bits right in front of her.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t stomach it. It was just unsettling, one more horror in a growing list of atrocities. She shook her head and pushed out of her chair, walking over to the window. The lights in the parking lot bounced off the low-hanging clouds, giving the rain-wet pavement an eerie glow. Just beyond the hotel, the highway presented a ribbon of light, the weather playing havoc with the traffic, the sound of angry car horns diluted by the mist.
“Maybe I’ll have a go at it,” Owen said, moving to sit down in front of the laptop. “Could be it just needs a man’s touch.”
“Have at it,” she shrugged, turning from the window. “I’ve never been good with computers. It’s like they see me coming.”
“Oh, surely it can’t be that bad?” Owen teased, the computer whirring to life as it tried to access the flash drive. “Hey, I’ve got something.”
“Told you,” she said, as she moved to stand behind him. The screen blinked once then presented a box requesting a password. “At least you got farther than I did.”
“Yes, but a fat lot of good it did. Any thoughts about what Smitty’s password might be?”
“Well, Jason always insists it’s the obvious.” She picked up the file that Hannah had faxed, extracting a sheet of paper with basic information. “Try his birth date or his phone number.”
Owen consulted the sheet and then typed. The machine beeped denial and re-presented the password screen. He typed again with the same results.
“Okay, maybe it’s his driver’s license number.”
“You actually know the number on your driver’s license?” Owen asked, tilting his head to look up at her.
“No. But I’m betting other people do. Or wait, how about his Social Security number?”
“Too risky.” Owen shook his head. “Besides, Jason’s right, people tend to go for the obvious. What was important to Smitty?”
“His wife. Try ‘Vivianne.��”
He entered the name but the computer beeped again, refusing entry.
“Wait a minute,” Tyler said, staring down at the laptop. “Type it again.”
Raising an eyebrow, Owen repeated the action without argument.
“There,” Tyler said, pointing at the screen. “It’s beeping before you finish typing. It’s only accepting five characters.”
“Great,” he sighed. “That narrows the possibilities to like a trillion.”
“No.” Tyler shook her head. “We’ve just got to think. It’s going to be something obvious.”
“Like what? Smitty’s favorite food. His favorite sports team. Or maybe we’re totally off track and it’s related to Smitty’s work. A word that was on his mind. You know, like ‘nukes.’” Owen typed in the word just for effect. The computer beeped twice.
“Be careful.” Tyler laughed, forgetting for a moment the seriousness of their situation. “You’re pissing it off.”
“Well, at least I got it to engage,” he said. “You couldn’t even get it to pay attention.”
“We’re never going to find the password,” she said, dropping into the chair beside him. “You’re right. There are just too many possibilities.”
“Well, I still think you were on to something with his wife.” He typed the word “wife” in just for the hell of it.
“What about ‘cancer’?” she suggested. “It’s a macabre choice, but sometimes an illness consumes you.” Her thoughts flickered to her father, but she pushed them away.
“No.” Owen shook his head, typing, the effort followed by the stupid beep. “That’s not it. Besides, I’d think it would be something positive. Something he thought about routinely, but also a word that meant something to him. For instance, my password is usually a shortened version of the town where we had a summer cottage. It’s good memories.”
“Well, I haven’t the foggiest notion where Smitty vacationed. You could try Vietnam. He said those were great times.”
“Seven letters,” Owen chastised. “Besides, in his case I think it would be something closer to home. And I’m still betting it has something to do with Vivianne.”
“Her maiden name?” Tyler suggested.
Owen looked down at the fact sheet. “Oldermeyer.” Definitely more than five letters. “What else?”
“I don’t know.” Tyler closed her eyes, trying to remember Smitty’s house. Maybe there was something she’d seen. Her mind’s eye trotted forth the messy living room, the hallway, and finally the bedroom. There’d been the photographs, the medicine bottles, the hospital bed, the dead flowers…“Hang on. Try ‘tulips.’”
“Too long.” Owen frowned. “That’s six characters.”
“Okay,” she said, opening her eyes to focus on the computer again. “Try ‘tulip,’ singular. Smitty said it was Vivianne’s favorite flower. He bought them for her almost every day. There were still some in the bedroom. Good memories. And a word that would have been on his mind.”
Owen shrugged, and typed. The computer was silent for a moment and then happily hummed to life, opening a new screen, this one with a directory. “Well, bugger that,” Owen stared at the directory page, “we’re in.”
“Maybe I’m better than I thought,” Tyler said, bending closer to peer at the list. “So what have we got?”
“A lot of technical stuff,” Owen said, opening one of the documents. “This must be the schematic he was talking about.”
“For the detonators.” Tyler nodded, studying the screen. “Pretty damn impressive. I can see why people would want to steal it. It’s the perfect combination of simplicity and sophistication. I had no idea it was so advanced.”
“I’d thought you’d have seen the detonators when you packed up the transport.”
“I did. But only from the outside. And the casing isn’t anything to write home about. But this…” she tapped the screen, “this is truly amazing.”
“And of absolutely no help in finding the people who stole it.”
“Okay, so what else is on there?”
Owen paged through a long list of documents, including the blueprint for the nuclear weapon the detonators had been designed for. They paused for a moment staring at the deadly intricacies of the diagramed nuke. “Something like this could change the face of war as we know it.” Owen whistled.
“The face of the world, more like it,” Tyler said, shaking her head. “Again, I can see why we’d want to keep this out of enemy hands.”
“Which should have been more of a concern when they designed security for the project.”
“I’m sure they thought they had. But Smitty was on the inside. And security is designed against outsiders coming in—not insiders ferrying information out. He had clearance, so it would have been easy enough for him to transfer the data. It’s all about variables, isn’t it? I mean, this project is over a decade old. Vivianne probably wasn’t even sick when it began. So there’d be no reason for anyone to have thought that Smitty presented a risk. And yet, in the end, he was the weak link. Bottom line, there are always going to be weaknesses that simply can’t be predicted.”
“And someone who wants something badly enough can figure out how to trade on those variables.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Tyler shrugged.
“So how the hell are we going to stop these people from using the information they’ve gained?”
“We’ve got to come at it from both sides,” she said, frowning, as she sorted through her thoughts. “Inside and out. First off we have to do everything in our power to figure out who’s pulling strings and what exactly they’re planning. And second, we have to find out who else has been selling secrets.”
“Beyond Smitty, you mean.”
“Not Avery,” Owen said, shaking his head. “He never believed it.”
“But you weren’t sure.” She sat back, waiting, not sure that she wanted the whole truth.
“The evidence wasn’t on your side,” he admitted with a shrug. “You have to admit there were things that made you look guilty.”
“Like the fact that I was still alive?”
“That, and the discovery that your father was the one who initially got A-Tac involved. But I think Smitty has sufficiently thrown cold water on that notion. We know now that you had nothing to do with arranging to be part of the transport team.”
“I knew it all along, Owen. You’re the one who had doubts.”
“Well, suffice it to say, I wasn’t alone,” he said. “Anyway, the point is that no one can possibly buy that anymore. As I said, Smitty’s confession made that perfectly clear.”
“But just because you’ve accepted that it isn’t me doesn’t mean there’s not still someone working on the inside—through A-Tac. It’s the only reason I can think of for the people behind the heist to want me involved in the transport.”
“My thoughts exactly. If there is an insider at A-Tac, what better way to monitor the investigation into the stolen detonators than to have the team assigned to the case? And once that was accomplished, they’d be able to use the inside information to throw off the investigation. They must have been ecstatic when they learned that Smitty had a previous relationship with your father.”
“Or they chose him in part because of that relationship. Anyway, the point is all they had to do was get my dad to call in a favor, and voilà, A-Tac’s involved and I’m on the team.”
“And they’ve got access to any number of ways to screw with our progress,” Owen said.
