Denial of Service 5: End of Line.

by Steve Jordan

  On the other hand, if all of that hadn’t happened to her, she certainly wouldn’t be lying here with me. Of all the things I’d done over the years, I still couldn’t figure out if I’d ever done anything to deserve a girl like this. But whether I deserved it or not, I knew one thing: I didn’t plan to do anything that would make her leave me.

  As I thought of all this, I realized Gail’s eyes were open, and she looked up at me with a tired smile. “Hi, lover. Did you finish?”

  I nodded. “The program is ready, and I’ve already uploaded it to the web.”

  Gail became more alert. “Already? How soon before something happens?”

  “I have no way of knowing,” I shrugged. “It’s up to BM to make their move. But like I said earlier, I’m betting the minute they know Cooley is leaving, they’ll want to use it before it’s too late. They’ll either use it at that exact moment, or try to wait for a more appropriate time. I’m guessing they will try to hit the after-market hours, 4 to 8pm eastern standard time. But they might as easily do pre-market, 7 to 9:30am. All I can do is stay ready to jump on it.”

  Gail nodded slightly. “I’ll send Mel an e-mail first thing in the morning.” Then she started to crawl on top of me. “In the meantime, have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Um… yeah, I seem to recall hearing you say that once or twice,” I smiled.

  “Oh, good. And have I told you how sexy I think you are?”

  “Yeah, that sounds familiar, too.”

  “Excellent. And have I told you how brilliant I think you are?”

  I actually had to think about that one. “You know… now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve heard that from you.”

  “Ah. I knew I was forgetting something. Allow me, then, to show you how much I think of your brilliance.” And she kissed me, allowing her long hair to flow down around my head and envelope me in a blond curtain. Despite my bone-weariness, I could feel that other bone responding to the promises of that incredible body. Gail noticed it, too, and quickly reached down to pull my shorts down to my knees. At the same time, I hooked the hips of her panties and pushed them down, then rolled her over until I was on top of her.

  She grunted in pleasure at my response. “Mike, I want you to know something: If you were offered your old job, and decided to go back to Baltimore… I’d go with you.”

  “Are you kidding?” I smiled. “Fuck the old job! I never want to leave San Diego.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said, and pulled me down hungrily.

  We spent the next few hours alternating between rolling around like puppies, cooing like lovebirds, and doing it like rabbits—okay, in Gail’s case, maybe more like rabid wolverines. (She’s the best at what she does, too.) If anything, she was even wilder now that she had confessed her past sins, and I had absolved her of every one without requiring a single Hail Mary from her (though, to my eternal gratitude, she gave me several). But she was also more appreciative, more enamored… almost worshipful. I came to realize she really needed that absolution, that she’d kept her feelings bottled up for far too long. And the fact that she’d been willing to confess to me, made her all the more treasured. She had told those secrets to me. How could I not return the love of a woman who thought that highly of me?

  Especially one who went down on me like a rabid wolverine?

  As the sun came up, Gail actually paused in our lovemaking to find her Blackberry and send an e-mail to Mel Cooley, telling him it was okay to quit, and include any histrionics he felt appropriate, as soon as he was ready. He would be getting it around 10am his time, which probably meant BM would trigger their program sometime in the after-hours market, some six hours from now, or afterward. We had an almost sure six hours to live it up, because after that, I’d either be a hero… or in FBI custody. I told Gail that.

  “Don’t worry,” Gail said. “There’s enough evidence now to keep you out of jail, I think.”

  “Just not enough to convict BM,” I replied. “Which is what I really want.”

  “You gotta have faith,” Gail said. “Like that time, two weeks ago, when we saw the web article about orgasms?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. The article stated categorically that it was impossible to have nine orgasms in thirty minutes. We were sure we could prove them wrong.

  Then I paused. “Hold on. We didn’t get to nine orgasms in thirty minutes.”

  “Only because you fell off the bed,” Gail pointed out, “and threw off my timing.”

  7: Showtime

  We spent the day waiting. I almost admired BM’s patience in managing to wait out the day… Mel had called at eight, his 11am, and told us he’d put in his notice and walked right out.

  “How’d they take it?” Gail had asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Mel had replied. “You should’ve seen their faces… I was afraid to turn my back on them.”

  “Well, now that you have,” Gail said, “get yourself together and ready to start your new job on the west coast.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “He’s ecstatic,” Gail told me.

  “Passing on a chance at jail time will do that to you,” I pointed out. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d heard someone so cheery after they’d just willingly walked out on a few million dollars, net no less. But Mel’s sudden attack of morals was doing me a favor, so who was I to complain?

  At 7:10 the next evening, my cellphone beeped. I raised it to my face, and saw the simple word sent to it by my Toughbook: “Now.”

  “They just sent the program,” I said, getting up out of the sofa. Gail followed me, while Pete and Reilly stayed in the loveseat in the living room. I climbed over my gear and called up the appropriate screens to see what was going on.

  Gail came around the other side and leaned over me to watch the screen. Not being able to read the IT jargon that was now running down the screen, she asked, “What do you see?”

  “I see Merc attempting to tap into NASDAQ,” I said, pointing to a series of comments on the screen. I pointed to another set. “That’s my program, copying the Merc login commands, and re-issuing them from another address. And there,” I pointed again, “is NASDAQ encountering both login requests… and cancelling them!”

  “It worked!” Gail wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. “It’s working!”

  “Yup! Now, the tricky part,” I went on, leaning into the laptop and typing for all I was worth. “Manually saving the data and sending it, in a packet, to the FBI. Their computers are supposed to be able to flag stuff like this, trace them back to their source once they have enough of it, and eventually alert the men to do some door-kicking in Maryland. And speaking of which.”

  I closed the Toughbook, stood up, and tucked the laptop under my arm. Looking at everyone, I said, “Time to go.”

  “Right,” Pete said, pulling himself out of the loveseat and followed by Reilly. “We’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.”

  “If the FBI shows—” I started.

  “You left, for we-don’t-know-where,” Pete finished. “Which is the truth, since we don’t know where.” My elder brother held out his hand. “Good luck, bro. Break a leg.”

  “Preferably a few… in Baltimore,” I nodded, and accepted his hand. Reilly gave me a quick hug, and a peck on the cheek. This was it. “See you on the other side,” I said. Then I turned to my partner in crime, and said, “Let’s roll, Kato.”

  “Who?”

  “Kato. Y’know, the Green Hornet. Bruce L—oh, never mind. Come on!”

  I almost regretted taking the elevator downstairs, but I was sure there was no way the FBI was going to be that fast showing up here.

  Gail glanced at me. “Relax! There’s no way the FBI could get here that fast.” I immediately felt better, and started smiling ear to ear. “What?” Gail asked when she saw my smile. “What’s so funny?”

  “Brain leakage!” I replied. “Man, I am so stoked now!”

  The elevator doors opened to the ga
rage, and we quick-stepped to Gail’s Eclipse. We climbed in, Gail having the engine revved up before I got my door shut. She threw it in gear, and we squealed out of the parking space. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard crime jazz winding up… something with lots of high horns and fast cymbals and staccato snare drums.

  When we pulled out into the street, however, the entire band stopped on a dime. They stopped, because I saw two unmarked sedans pulling up to the lobby entrance of Pete’s building just as we were driving away. They did get here that fast. Gail and I exchanged wide-eyed looks, and I slumped down in the seat a bit. “This is gonna be close.”

  Thereafter, the band played, but they kept it down.

  “Take your time,” I said. “Don’t attract a cop’s attention. Relax and follow the route.”

  “Yes, Green Hornet sir,” Gail replied.

  “Kato would just say, ‘Yes, boss’,” I told her.

  “Don’t you wish,” she said.

  Unfortunately, even San Diego isn’t wall-to-wall wireless yet. Knowing that, I’d had to do some searching to find some select places I could go where I knew there would be wireless access. And I’d need to stay mobile, so I couldn’t be traced and caught at any one spot, so I needed several places… a half-dozen at most, I guessed. A little thought, and I knew just the thing. I worked out a route, starting at Pete’s place—which I’d gone thoroughly geek and named checkpoint Alpha—and through each checkpoint after that, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Edward, Francis… and Gail. I’d shared the route with Gail that day, and she’d had it memorized hours ago. I kept it from Pete, so he’d have the advantage of plausible deniability… not to mention not being able to give me away, even under torture. We drove carefully, our first stop being only a few blocks away.

  Shortly, we drove into a streetside parking lot, and pulled up as close to the storefront as we could manage. Gail parked us nose-out, for a quick getaway, and through her rearview mirror, I could see the image of the store’s circular logo, easily recognizable when seen normally or reversed.

  Gail killed the engine, turned to me, and said, “Now what? We just wait?”

  “We just wait,” I confirmed. “BM’ll probably figure out in another few minutes that nothing happened, and they’ll try it again.”

  Gail nodded, sat back in her seat… and then looked at the store through her rearview. She started to unbuckle herself. “Well, if we’ve got a few minutes, I’ll go in and use the ladies’ room. Just beep if we have to go, okay?”

  “No problem,” I said. Then, as her door shut, I called out, “Wait!”

  Gail came back to the car window. “What?”

  “As long as you’re in there…”

  “Say no more, lover,” Gail grinned. “One grande double-shot skim milk espresso with room, coming up!”

  8: Hit and Run

  I had nailed it almost to the second: As I sat there waiting for Gail to come out of Starbucks, my Toughbook registered the second Merc attempt. Again, my program spoofed its login, and the NASDAQ servers rejected them both. “Yes,” I hissed to myself, and immediately got busy encapsulating the traffic info and sending the packet to the FBI.

  A moment later, Gail’s door opened, and she got in. “Here you go,” she said, holding out my cup. “What news?”

  “Attempt number two, like clockwork!” I said triumphantly, finishing up my keystrokes, then reaching out and taking my espresso. “Perfect! Let’s get to checkpoint Charlie!”

  “Gotcha, boss,” Gail said, and started the car.

  I’d guessed we had enough time to get to the mainland before the next hit… after that, they were sure to come closer together. We were also sure to have FBI agents that much closer, too, so we’d have to keep moving. By now, the FBI agents tracking this stuff would have detected my signal at the wireless node of the Starbucks we’d just left behind… checkpoint Bravo. Hopefully they’d blow some time searching for us in the immediate area, and may not have been aware enough of my “known associates” to know that they needed to be looking for a white Eclipse, before they started to put two and two together and figured out my stragedy (as a certain bunny I used to idolize would say). Once that happened, by window of opportunity would be that much smaller… it was anyone’s guess if I’d get my work done before I hit the final stop, which I’d designated my “safe spot”… appropriately, checkpoint Gail… if I got there, all would be well.

  As we crossed the San Diego-Coronado Bridge, I was sure I saw two more unmarked cars heading across the bridge in the other direction. Gail was in the right lane at the time, and I stayed scrunched down in my seat. The band in my head was getting a bit louder… the saxes were winding up. “Reinforcements,” I said to Gail.

  “What?” Gail said.

  “Huh?”

  “I couldn’t hear you over the band.”

  That earned me a high-C right behind my left ear. “Hit the National exit,” I grinned.

  We back-tracked to Harbor Drive and headed north-west with purpose. Reaching our next destination, at West Harbor and Front, Gail took the left and drove into the parking lot. Within seconds, I was getting the Starbucks wireless signal and connecting.

  Gail pulled into a spot and cut the engine. “Anything yet?”

  “Not yet,” I replied. “So we sit tight. And watch for guys with dark glasses and cheap suits.”

  “I’d much rather watch you,” Gail said, and she leaned over and kissed me. For a moment, she seemed about to crawl over the gearshift and have a go at me right there… but she restrained herself, and settled for kisses. Trust me, I didn’t mind at all.

  Then the Toughbook beeped at me. Gail glanced down at it, and muttered, “Killjoy.”

  “I’m hip,” I said as I opened the laptop. After another moment, I said, “Hit number three, logged… spoofed… and… blocked!”

  “Like clockwork,” Gail commented. She started the car as I encapsulated the third hit data, and sent it off. “Ready?”

  “Go,” I cried. “On to checkpoint Delta!”

  “You don’t think this ‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie’ stuff is gonna get old by the time we get to the end?”

  I thought about the fact that “Gail” was my last stop. “Hells, no! Stomp it, baby!”

  Gail beamed in response to my enthusiasm, and floored it, just catching the light in time to head into town. But underneath my bravado, I was concerned. We’d just hit our second Starbucks in a row, and were heading for our third. Even TV cops weren’t stupid enough to not pick up that trail. I’d carefully chosen our route, so it wasn’t likely they’d figure out which shop I was gonna hit next… but then, there were enough of them to eventually get around to staking out every Starbucks in town when they get it figured out.

  It was gonna be real close.

  When we reached checkpoint Delta, Gail muttered, “Uh-oh.” I joined her in glancing about. There was no place to park on the street… all the nearby spots were filled. I checked the Toughbook, but we were too far away to get a signal.

  I quickly pointed. “Let me off here, and U-turn at the end of the block.”

  “U-turn?” Gail blanched. “In this traffic?”

  “I have faith in you,” I said, and opened the car door before she had come to a stop. “Be back soon,” I said as I climbed out.

  I had to cross the street to get to the Starbucks. Once I was outside, I had planned to just sit at one of their sidewalk tables and do my thing… but a drone in the sky alerted me to look up. I ducked into the place just before a helicopter came into view above the San Diego streets. And I was just paranoid enough to believe that they were looking for me. That was close. Quickly I slipped into a chair and opened up the Toughbook. I checked… but there was no fourth attempt yet. Damn! Had they given up? It was too soon! Or were they just biding their time, maybe hoping whatever glitch was blocking them at NASDAQ would clear up? How long could I leave Gail circling around out front?…

  Then—Hallelujah! The fourth hit came. The spoof program did i
ts job, and I quickly encapsulated the data and sent it off. Then I closed my Toughbook and left, non-chalantly, so as to not attract the notice of the Starbucks baristas. I hit the sidewalk, glancing surreptitiously to make sure there were no copters overhead… it had left the scene. Then I looked for Gail’s car. I looked left. I looked right.

  No car!

  9: Misdirection

  Fighting down panic, I started to walk. Almost immediately, I decided it would be better to walk the other way, so my laptop would face the buildings and wouldn’t be as easily seen from the street. So I spun about and started in the opposite direction. And immediately realized how obvious it would be to anyone on the street who might be on the lookout for strange behavior (say, a passing IT terrorist after NASDAQ) to see me walk one way, then the other. I cursed myself for seven kinds of a fool, but kept going, praying no one had noticed me.

  As I walked, passing by other storefronts, I noticed many of them had glass entrances that I could use to catch a reflection and view behind me, without turning around. I used ‘em. And a damn good thing, too: Because at the last store on the block, I looked at the glass wall and caught a reflection of two guys in cheap suits and sunglasses, stepping out of the Starbucks I’d just left. A barista followed them out, and in a moment, I saw him point in my direction.