Death of Secrets

by Bowen Greenwood

  The first thing she saw was her own lap. But when she raised her head, she saw the man who’d offered to bribe her, who’d tried to run her off the Key Bridge, and who’d fired a gun at her at Mike’s house. She knew his name was Carlos, and she knew seeing him as she woke up meant trouble.

  "Good morning, Miss Kelver," he said, a thin smile etching itself across his face. In one hand he held a gun, pointed directly at her head. In his other hand, he held the flash drive. "About time you brought this back. Of course, Miss Christina doesn’t yet know she gave it to me, but as soon as she wakes up I’m sure she’ll realize it."

  She tried to move her arms, but found her arms were handcuffed behind her back. She sat in a stiff, wooden chair. To her right, Mike, John and Colleen had similar seating arrangements, right down to the cuffs around their wrists.

  John seemed to be recovering from the drug on about the same schedule as Kathy. She sensed him moving to her right, and turned to look. Before his eyes were even open, John’s first act was to try moving his arms. When that failed, his eyes opened fully and he snarled. "I’m getting sick of you tying me up," he said, staring at Carlos.

  Their captor responded with another of his menacing smiles. "Well, don’t worry. If I get my way, you won’t have to experience it for long."

  Kathy raised her eyebrows at that. The threat was clear – Carlos wanted to kill them – but what was this about getting his way? She was about to ask when John said, "No way you could take me fair and square, but you’re sure tough enough to beat a guy who can’t hit back. Now maybe you’re tough enough to shoot a guy who can’t fight back, too."

  Carlos actually laughed at that. "Oh, I’m not in the business of fair fights, and I don’t know anyone who is. My business is winning, John, and tonight, I’m finally going to win."

  Listening to John, Kathy hadn’t noticed Colleen wake up. Now, she heard her roommate say, "You’re the guy…"

  Carlos smiled at her. "The guy?"

  "Jakarta and I saw one of your surveillance videos. You murdered someone, pushed them off the roof!"

  "Ah, yes," he replied. "Ivan. He knew too much. So did his two coworkers. I can be hard on people who know things I want kept secret. Right, John?"

  John spat out a curse. "Yeah, but I was harder last time, wasn’t I?"

  Only Michael remained unconscious. Carlos solved that by walking up to him and pinching his nose. His air supply cut off, Mike sputtered to wakefulness, opening his mouth. Carlos stepped back. "There, now you’re all paying attention. So let’s get down to business. I want to know what you know about that flash drive you have. And if I ever get the impression any of you is lying to me, I’m going to start shooting people in the kneecaps."

  It had gone behind his back when he was waking Mike, but now Carlos brought his firearm back into everyone’s field of vision. To Kathy, the barrel looked too long and too fat – she had never seen a sound suppressor before.

  Carlos grinned wickedly. "Why don’t we start with you, Miss Kelver."

  Beads of sweat popped out of her forehead. Competing thoughts in her mind told her she wouldn’t be shot in the kneecaps because she was going to tell the truth, and that she would probably be plain old shot – as in dead – because the truth was that she knew too much. Budding young actress though she was, she didn’t think she could give a convincing performance of ignorance with that gun pointed at her. And even if she could, if Mike, John, or Colleen screwed it up she might still get shot in the kneecap. To Kathy, that sounded more painful than she could even imagine.

  "OK, yeah, I’ll tell you what we know," she snarled. "And you’ll be able to tell it’s the truth because you know all of this stuff as well as I do. That flash drive has the source code for a program that interprets input from the GigaStar surveillance device. Only it’s not just a surveillance device, is it? It’s a mind reader, and you guys have set it up so you can listen in on the thoughts of anybody the NSA spies on with it. Yeah, I know what’s on the flash drive alright. It’s the death knell of the right to privacy, that’s what it is. And you know I’m telling the truth."

  Finished, she held her breath. Had she doomed them all? Would Mike and everyone else be shot now, for knowing too much? Suddenly all her senses felt more alert. She felt the cool breeze of the building’s climate control system blowing over her sweaty brow. She heard Mike breathing next to her, and even without looking she was conscious of his head turned to look at her. Out the corner of her eye, she took in the first rays of the dawning sun through the plate glass windows of the office. Then, instead of the pain of a bullet, she saw the door open behind Carlos.

  ***

  Sam Franken’s joints protested the prolonged awkward position, and he was just about ready to crawl out from under the desk just to stretch. The rails that the desk’s center drawer rode on cut into his back painfully. Just as he pushed the chair a bit forward to get his head free, though, he heard the door to his right open. He snapped the chair instantly back in place.

  As before, he saw the tall man’s legs walk through his field of view. He heard the footsteps walk around the front of the desk he hid under. And behind his head, he heard the other door open. This time, it didn’t shut again. He heard the same voice he’d heard last time, and he assumed it must be the tall man.

  "Carlos! Put that thing away! What do you have them handcuffed for? I asked you to invite them here, not take them hostage or something!"

  "They were slightly less than willing," came the reply. Franken didn’t recognize that voice.

  "That’s no excuse to… get those cuffs off them right now!"

  ***

  Inside the room, even John sat still as Carlos walked behind their chairs and undid their handcuffs. He was too stunned by this turn of events to resist right away. Carlos got all their hands free and then walked back to stand beside the newcomer. Lest anyone get any funny ideas, he left his gun very visible and very accessible, tucked into his belt.

  "I know most of you. For those who don’t know me, my name is D.W. Tilman, president of Electron Guidewire. I apologize for the way you were brought here. Really, I had no idea."

  Congressman Vincent stared hard at Tilman. "What the heck is going on here? You’ve got so much explaining to do, I don’t even know where to start."

  "Mike, listen. I have no idea what Carlos got into his head when he brought you here at gunpoint. I just wanted to talk to you. Obviously you guys have gotten a peek inside our GigaStar program, and I wanted to explain it to you, maybe set your minds at ease. It should have been just a conversation – a pleasant one. Carlos, apparently, got a little bit carried away."

  "A little bit?" John shouted. "You were standing right there when he tied me to that chair and left me in the dungeon earlier!"

  "Well, yes, I hope you can understand that we were a little bit worried about someone who was obviously eavesdropping on us. But I simply intended to ask you why you were doing that, then turn you over to the police. There wasn’t any need for you to kill that poor man and run away. Before that the police surely would have let it go with a simple interview and warning, though of course when you killed him you did rather complicate your own situation. You’re wanted for murder now, but perhaps something can be arranged with them. I could tell the police that the man you killed was an intruder into our building, and he unfortunately died while you were helping Carlos subdue him. Surely that would solve your trouble with the police."

  "That ain’t the way it happened, man. Your attack dog there beat the daylights out of me, and anything I did back was pure self defense."

  Tilman turned to look at Carlos, arching his eyebrows. His security chief simply stared back at him.

  "Well," Tilman continued. "It would appear that my Director of Security and I need to have a little chat about methods. Let me offer you my apologies if there was any mistreatment. All along, all I’ve wanted was to tell you about GigaStar, and explain to Mike why the NSA and EG decided it was best not to reveal its true ca
pabilities to the Judiciary Committee."

  "Oh can it," Mike snarled. "Nathan Jacobs was scared out of his mind when we showed him what the GigaStar could do. He had no idea what you were building here."

  Tilman frowned. "Mike, come on, you know the rule. If you don't control how the news comes out, you lose. This is classified, I couldn't tell you before. But I’m telling you now because I trust you as a friend. Listen, think about it. Do you think I’m brave enough to try and sneak something like that past the NSA? I’d lose everything I’ve built here at EG, and I’ve already lost one career, I don’t want to lose two. So Jacobs looked scared when you showed him that you’d figured out the GigaStar? Did it ever occur to you that what scared him was not the device itself, but the breakdown in security that allowed a couple of college kids," he waved at Colleen and Kathy, "And the bouncer at a night club to learn such a classified secret?"

  Mike tried to think of an obvious rebuttal for that, but one wouldn’t come to him. He didn’t reply.

  Tilman continued. "The NSA asked us to develop the GigaStar as a thought recognition system to give them the most advanced capability possible for spotting threats to National Security before they happened. We all know how September 11 changed everything. Nuclear proliferation means that if it ever happens again, the world could end. The NSA needs this to keep us safe. The GigaStar would give them the capability to know if a terrorist planned that, even if they never said it out loud.

  "Naturally, they were aware of the political difficulties this kind of device presented, so they asked us to keep it under wraps. I was a little uncomfortable with that, of course, but in the end I caved because the project would be so lucrative for us."

  Mike was trying to square Tilman’s story with the look on Nathan’s face when he saw his thoughts appearing on screen. He just couldn’t do it. No way did Nathan know in advance what the GigaStar could do.

  Colleen spoke up. "You’re lying to us, and I’ll tell you why. In addition to the source code for interpreting the input, that flash drive had the technical specifications of how you build a GigaStar device. It included not one but two frequencies for broadcasting the data it took in. There’s absolutely no reason for that second frequency if this was all part of the plan. You lied to the government when you put that in there, and that means your entire story is a crock."

  She paused in her tirade long enough to breathe, then added, "And what’s more, we told the NSA all that, too! Your little project’s coming to a glaring halt now, because it won’t work if the government knows, and we already warned them."

  Tilman stared at her, his lips curling into a snarl. But it was Carlos who answered. "Such a neat little analysis," he told Colleen. "All except for one little thing. I’ve been telling the NSA for days that some hacker was trying to sneak foreign code into our project. And who do you think they’re more likely to believe? A 20-year-old girl, or one of their most respected contractors?"

  Tilman cut in. "You're so sure that Nathan Jacobs is fully informed? On a project this classified, why should he be in the loop? He's not much more than middle management. If he didn't know what GigaStar could do, maybe it's not because of little old me. Maybe he didn't know because he didn't need to know."

  Colleen's face fell, and Mike grew angry. "I don’t know what to say," he said. "I’ve spent most of my adult life looking up to you. I do know this though. The committee is split right down the middle on authorizing the funding for your little gizmo. If you don’t have me voting for it, the program dies."

  Tilman didn’t speak for a long time. He stared at each one of them in turn, finishing with Mike. The Congressman held his gaze, until finally Tilman started talking. "I’m sorry things are working out this way Mike. I have more bad news for you. I actually don’t need your vote. In about an hour, most of the Congressmen who’ve opposed GigaStar to date will be sitting down in my office with me to hear my pitch for why they should vote the way I need them to.

  "And do you know what, Mike? The entire meeting will be recorded on this." He produced a little black gadget, barely the size of a pencil’s eraser, from his pocket. "This is a GigaStar, and you’re right, it can read thoughts. Every congressman who walks into that meeting has secrets, Mike. They have financial dealings that will look bad in the papers. They’ve done things on their campaigns that they don’t want voters hearing about. They have extra-marital affairs they don’t want to see in the headlines. And I’ll know all of that. I’m sure all of them will see reason about how to vote when they’re forced to choose between spending a bit of federal money or the end of their careers. After all, it’s just tax dollars, right? There’s always more to be had, so why not spend a bit on my little invention."

  He bared his teeth. "It’s going to go through, Mike. And then the NSA will start putting these little bugs on every local computer network they can get their hands on – anywhere in the world. And with all those embassies here in Washington, there are going to be GigaStars all over this town. Every time they pick up something nasty about a politician, I’ll end up with a secret I can use. And then all those bastards who hung me out to dry to save their own reputations are going to see the other side of the coin."

  Tilman stared at Michael. "So no, I probably won’t need your vote. But a little insurance never hurt anyone, so I’d still like to have it if I can. We can still patch this up, Mike. If you can reassure me that I can trust you, you can walk away from this and go back to a very promising career."

  Mike stared at him. There was a time when he used to say, "D.W. Tilman taught me everything I know." But that wasn’t true anymore.

  It was surprisingly easy to just shake his head.

  Tilman stared at Mike for a moment, and then spat out a curse. "It’s your choice. I’ll see that the press accounts say something about a tragic car accident with the woman he loved. Carlos, take care of things."

  He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

  CHAPTER 16

  Franken pulled the chair closer over his head, and tried to squeeze backward even further under the desk. The last thing he needed was to be spotted after all this effort. He saw the tall man’s legs walk past him, their pace much quicker this time. He heard the footsteps around the other side of the desk, then heard the door open and shut. As soon as he felt sure the tall man – who now had a name: Tilman – was away, he pushed the chair back and struggled out of his hiding place.

  Getting in had been a challenge – getting back out was only marginally less so. Franken scrapped his back painfully as he climbed out from under the desk, but he didn’t pay any attention at all. He’d heard everything, and knew that if he didn’t get in there fast, Kathy and her friends were dead.

  He lumbered to his feet and ran toward the open door to the left of the elevator. His legs were still stiff from his long period of hiding. He nearly stumbled, and his feet hit the ground heavily as he barged through the door.

  Carlos had his gun out again and was just bringing it to bear on John’s forehead, judging him to be the biggest potential threat. He heard the commotion behind him, though, and whirled to see a fat, disheveled man framed in the doorway. Carlos brought his pistol to bear.

  Before anyone could shoot, John rocketed out of his chair. Head down, shoulder forward, he slammed into Carlos and they both tumbled to the ground. The flash drive clattered out of his hand and across the floor. He kicked the gun out of Saglieri’s hand and sent it skidding across the floor to where Franken stood.

  The detective picked it up. Steadying the weapon and trying to get a feel for the extra weight on the barrel caused by the silencer, he aimed in the general direction of Carlos and John on the floor, looking for a clear shot.

  Surprise gave John the upper hand. Landing a punch that probably broke Carlos’s nose, he grunted, "I told you! Whenever I’m awake and untied, I win!"

  Kathy squeezed Mike’s hand painfully as the fight erupted, but the Congressman was rising out of his chair. He pulled his hand free and dash
ed over to the pile of John and Carlos on the floor.

  Carlos wasn’t about to simply give up. He brought his legs up between him and John and kicked with all his strength, sending John flying off him. He hit the ground with a thud, stunned for just a moment. As Carlos struggled to his feet, though, John made it up too. They faced each other, just out of arm’s reach.

  Facing five opponents, with a gun that wasn’t in his hands, Carlos didn’t like the odds. He turned swiftly and bolted for the door.

  Franken never made a conscious choice. He did what any cop would do when a suspect charged at him.

  He loosed three rounds from the pistol. Stiff from his long stint under the desk, and holding an unfamiliar weapon, he missed all three times. The bullets thudded into the Plexiglas window behind Carlos, and the barest hint of a crack appeared.

  John caught the neck of Carlos’s shirt and yanked him back. Once he’d stopped the other man’s forward momentum, he got a better grip on him and heaved – he focused all his anger and pain into the movement of his arms, and flexed the muscles he spent so much time building. With a grunt, he threw Carlos as hard as he could, and had the satisfaction of seeing him smack full-force into the same window Franken had shot.

  The tiny imperfection the bullets caused grew into a long crack from the top of the window to the bottom. A spider web of smaller cracks erupted out from behind Carlos’s back. Everyone heard a tortured splintering sound, and then the window gave way, shattering into uncounted pieces. Carlos felt it let go behind him and tried to move forward, but his balance was still off. He teetered for a moment before the jagged hole in the glass, and then pitched backward into the air.

  John walked over to the hole in the glass and stuck his head carefully out. He stared down at the body, lying broken on the loading dock far beneath them. When he pulled it back in, he said, "I… well, I don’t talk about it much, but I’ve seen stuff like that before. The rest of you… don’t look."