Unborn

by Daniel Gage

  Cam seemed hesitant to follow, which Emma liked; it meant he had some sort of cautious nature, even though his actions had previously spoken otherwise. But he tentatively stepped down onto the stairs and followed her in.

  “Cousin!” a voice shouted, and a greasy, overweight, but very jovial man caught Emma in a hug.

  “Hello, Rona—Rolan,” Emma said, returning the gesture.

  “Emma’s here?” a separate voice called as a scrawny, acne-ridden young man revealed himself from a pile of scrap and circuit boards. He too came forward to greet her, though his hug was much more timid and careful. “Missed you, coz.”

  “I missed you too, Sammy,” Emma said, rubbing the young man’s hair.

  “It’s Sampson, now,” he said. “Even trying to grow out my hair.”

  “I see that,” she said, smiling. “Gents, meet Cam, my new partner.”

  “Hello … Rolan, was it?” Cam asked as he reached out to shake hands.

  Rolan pushed past the gesture and wrapped Cam up in a bear hug. “Any friend of Emma’s gets more than a handshake!”

  After the awkward moment, Sampson extended his hand, and Cam shook it. He seemed relieved that everyone here wasn’t a passionate hugger.

  “So what do you have for me?” Emma asked.

  “Always right down to business,” Rolan said. “Sampson, pull up the data, would you?”

  As Sampson went to work at a nearby computer, Rolan led them toward the back of their junk-filled basement, around piles of spare parts and other technical gadgets that Emma only slightly understood. And when she glanced over her shoulder at Cam, the twisted expression on his face showed he didn’t grasp any of this technology that surrounded him.

  “So you asked us to find anything weird, especially anything surrounding a massive theft or data breach,” Rolan said as he sat down at another computer terminal. “Well, we found a big one. For Street Financial.”

  “That’s one of those big Wall Street firms, right?” Cam asked.

  “Right,” Rolan said. “They had an incident last night, and it looks like an inside job.”

  “So?” Emma asked. “That’s not uncommon; we read about it all the time. Firms have even gotten in trouble for faking issues for additional government funds for security.”

  “Exactly!” Rolan said with a grin. “So why would they try so hard to cover it up?”

  “Cover it up?” she asked. “How are they doing that?”

  “First of all, no media report,” he said. “When questioned by reporters, they denied everything. Some insider was the leak, and now that insider can’t be found.”

  “Okay, that’s a little interesting,” Emma said. “But hardly anything to go on.”

  Rolan pulled up a file on his computer that looked like some sort of sign-in sheet.

  “So after we heard this, we did some digging,” Rolan said. “Street Financial tried to delete and modify some files, but they weren’t quick enough. Nothing stays deleted, and we found their scraps. This is a log detailing access to their secure servers. See this?”

  Emma leaned in and squinted at the screen. Rolan had highlighted an entry that showed someone named Leonard had accessed the room at 7:32 PM. She scanned the entries before and after, but still wasn’t sure what she was seeing.

  “Yeah, and?” she asked.

  “He didn’t leave,” Cam, who had been looking over her shoulder, said.

  “Exactly!” Rolan said. “He doesn’t scan out. And this code here, a few minutes after he entered, that’s for an emergency security bypass. Like if security guards need to get someone fast, and in force.”

  “So this Leonard guy commits a data breach, or something, and they try to cover it up,” Emma said. “So? Still doesn’t prove anything.”

  “There’s no arrest record,” Rolan said. “But salvaged footage shows him being hauled off in handcuffs. So we peeked inside recent arrests for the county and found this.”

  Rolan pulled up another file that opened to an employee ID badge next to a mugshot. The ID badge was labeled with Leonard’s name, but the mugshot was labeled with the name Maxwell.

  But aside from a few years apart, the two men were nearly identical.

  “They arrested him under a false identity,” Emma whispered. “That’s … that’s insane.”

  “And there’s more,” Rolan said, then called to his young assistant. “You ready, Sampson?”

  “All set!” he yelled back.

  With a bit of effort, Rolan stood and made his way back toward Sampson, with Emma and Cam right behind him. Rolan wobbled as he walked, and both Cam and Emma couldn’t figure out if they should avoid him, or be ready to assist. The pair shared a small smile when they realized they were mimicking the other’s behavior.

  Sampson had set up a 3D projector, which was now displaying a paused video of a man walking amongst rows of servers and other computer hardware. He was holding himself up with a cane, and looked to have issues with his leg and arm.

  “What is this?” Emma asked.

  “Salvaged footage,” Rolan said. “That guy, that’s Leonard. Or Maxwell, depending on how you see it.”

  “Want me to start it?” Sampson asked.

  “Go ahead,” Rolan said.

  Sampson pushed a button on a nearby keyboard, and the playback started. The video was rough, as every couple of frames was broken up by static, but the four watched as Leonard hobbled back to a server and inserted something into it. Alarms blared, and he fell to the ground, laughing. He laughed even as the guards swarmed in on him.

  The audio was scratchy, but a voice emerged above the others.

  “Oh my God, Leonard,” one of them said. “What have you done?”

  Silence lingered after the video ended.

  Emma stared, and didn’t remember when her mouth had fallen open.

  “You were right,” Emma said. “You were right to tell me about this.”

  “I don’t get it,” Cam muttered. “How is this a lead?”

  “Look at how he’s behaving,” Emma said. “He made a very direct heist of something there, and didn’t care if he got arrested. He’s mid-level management at best, so who would risk all this, only to get caught? Someone is helping him, and this must be part of their plan.”

  “Okay, I can see that,” Cam said. “But why? Why steal company data so … stupidly? When I stole things, I didn’t want to get caught. Why not just hack it and not be seen?”

  “Maybe that wasn’t an option,” Sampson offered. “Sometimes hacks take time, and they might not have wanted to waste that time.”

  “So what did he steal?” Cam asked.

  “Not sure,” Rolan said. “Those involved are being quiet. But it’s an international finance company, so it stands to reason its money or client related. They control trillions in assets.”

  “So with that information, they could have leverage over some very influential people and corporations,” Emma said. “This is big. Bigger than just a birthright theft.”

  “Do you think it’s leverage, or ruin?” Rolan asked. “From what you’ve said, these dealers aren’t out for the common good. They could destroy the company, and likely the assets of many people, with this.”

  “We could be looking at a financial crisis,” Emma whispered. “Well … shit.”

  “I don’t know,” Cam said, shaking his head. His finger and thumb pinched his chin as he squinted at the video. “He sought that device out. Play it back … see, he walks by several identical devices. What’s so special about that one? When I jack cars, I don’t just pick the first one I see. I have a target, and a reason for that target.”

  “Then we’ll have to ask him,” Emma said. “Where is Leonard now?”

  “They took him to a prison just outside of the city, about an hour from here,” Rolan said.

  “Thanks,” Emma said. “Come on, Cam, let’s get out there and see if we can get to him first. I’ll transfer your fee within a couple of days, Rolan.”

  “Co
ol,” Rolan said. “So, Emma, we going to see you at the reunion next month?”

  Emma fought the guttural reaction as she recalled the last family gathering she attended. “I don’t know. I mean, no one seems to be over last time. We’ll see; it’ll depend on work.”

  “Forget them,” Sampson grumbled. “Not everyone thought your dad was nuts. And some of us even believe him, now.”

  Emma struggled with words as she fought to repress painful, bitter memories.

  “Maybe it’s still too soon for me,” she whispered before she turned to leave.

  **********

  “Are they your family?” Cam asked as they got back in Emma’s car.

  “Yeah, my cousin and his son,” she explained as she set their destination into the car’s navigation system.

  “So why didn’t you tell me? It seems fairly obvious it would come up.”

  That was a good question. Emma paused before answering.

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

  Cam didn’t press the issue. He seemed very rough around the edges, but he also had a surprising amount of tact. Emma respected that, but could do without him calling her Pants Suit. Although she was more than glad he didn’t ask why she hadn’t seen her extended family in years.

  “You have different accents,” Cam said. “Yours is British, right?”

  “Right,” Emma said. “My father was assigned to Wales for a job, met my mom, and the rest is history. But the rest of my family is over here.”

  “How did you end up here?” he asked.

  “Job offer,” she said. “I used to work for the British government, and a job I had crossed over with the AFC, and that’s how I got recruited.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “So it’s been all government and field work for you?”

  “I had a small gig as an EMT before all that,” she said, then instantly regretted it. She had never even told Michael about that.

  She found it odd how easily she was able to talk to Cam about her personal life. It had taken Michael months to get that much out of her once they started working together, but the way Cam spoke made her feel at ease. In her line of work, questions were asked when people had ulterior motives.

  Cam’s inquiry felt like conversation. She missed that.

  “You’ll have to tell me some stories from those days,” he said.

  “I will,” she said.

  The pair exchanged a friendly smile before Emma focused on driving toward their destination.

  CHAPTER 18

  “This is different,” Cam mumbled as they pulled into the prison parking lot.

  “What is?” Emma asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to prison, unless I’m serving time,” he said, grinning. “It feels better from this side of the fence.”

  “Unfortunately, you won’t get much closer than this,” she said. “I don’t have an ID badge for you yet.”

  “I’m good with that,” Cam said. “I’m fairly sure someone in there would recognize me anyway. I’ll just enjoy the air.”

  Emma turned off the ignition, and the pair climbed out of the car. Almost instantly, she missed the warmth of the vehicle’s interior, especially feeling the chilly wind blow over the open lot. The cities had been cold, but not this cold.

  “On second thought, could I have the car keys?” he asked.

  Emma tossed him the fob. “Had enough air?”

  “Couldn’t take much more of this, even if I wanted to,” Cam said.

  “It actually works out,” she said. “I can’t take anything in there but my ID. I’ll feel better with you close to my things.”

  She emptied her pockets and placed them into the lockbox in the trunk, but then she pulled out a set of wire-framed glasses. She put them on and adjusted how they sat on her face, all while Cam watched her curiously.

  “Glasses?” he asked. “Didn’t think anyone used those anymore, except the unlucky ones.”

  “They’re not prescription, but no one questions it,” she explained. “They’re a tiny computer, constantly forwarding the video and audio feed to be viewed and recorded. I want you to see and hear what’s going on, since you, um, have more experience in these sort of places.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Cam said after rolling his eyes. “Won’t they detect that it’s a camera?”

  “No one has before,” she said. “No one thinks to question glasses. Like you said, I’d have to be pretty unlucky to have to wear these.”

  **********

  By the time Emma crossed the parking lot to reach the prison’s main entrance, Cam had already gotten back into the car. The cold pierced through her clothing, and for a moment, she envied him. But as she pulled on the heavy door, she was rewarded by a blast of warmth that promised more inside.

  The main room was plain and sterile, and desperately in need of a coat of paint and updated fixtures. A single correctional officer sat at a desk with a series of large windows flanking a heavy metal door behind him.

  “Hello,” Emma said as she managed a convincing smile. “I’m Agent Jennings with the AFC, and I’m here to see a, ahh, Mr. Maxwell Smith.”

  She sold the appointment by checking the file she had brought in, before handing the officer her ID. While he examined her credentials, she took a moment to appraise him. The man appeared to be in his late forties and uncomfortably overweight, and despite the cold weather, had a thin layer of perspiration on his brow.

  The man looked like he would be a liability on an open yard, so Emma guessed he got stuck behind a desk more often than not.

  “Thank you, Agent Jennings,” he said as he returned her ID. “I’ll have to call up an escort, and find the inmate you’re after. Who did you say it was?”

  “Maxwell Smith,” she said. “He’s a suspect in an active identity theft investigation, and it came over the wire that he was arrested last night.”

  “Maxwell Smith, Maxwell Smith,” the officer whispered as he typed at his computer.

  Emma adjusted her glasses. She made a mental note to wear them more often, as it felt awkward to have them on her face. It wasn’t the same as sunglasses, and she worried an involuntary twitch might give away her ruse.

  But the officer seemed absorbed by his query, and he didn’t attempt to hide his confusion.

  “Ummm, Agent Jennings, I’ll have to call my ADW on this one,” he said.

  “ADW?” Emma asked.

  “Assistant Deputy Warden,” he said as he picked up his desk phone. “It’ll only take a moment.”

  Emma fought the instinct to turn and run with every fiber of her being. Something had gone wrong, and she wasn’t sure what it could be. She’d visited plenty of recently arrested suspects without issues.

  “Okay, take your time,” she said, focusing to make sure her tension didn’t show in her voice.

  She turned and looked outside. She couldn’t see her car, but she saw Cam standing amongst the rows of vehicles. At least she assumed it was him, as most of the vehicles she guessed to belong to the prison’s employees. His attention seemed focused on something, but whatever it could be was beyond her line of sight.

  “She’ll be out here in a moment to escort you back,” the officer said as he hung up the phone. “But I’ll need to scan you first.”

  The officer stood with a grunt, by using his hands to push himself up from the desk. He grabbed a handheld scanner that resembled a wand and wobbled his way around the desk.

  “Anything in your pockets?” he asked.

  “No,” Emma answered.

  “Please raise your arms,” he asked, and she complied.

  He used the wand up and down her sides, her front and back, and her outstretched arms. It beeped slightly as it passed her midsection.

  “Belt buckle,” she said with a weak grin.

  The officer gave her a blank stare before testing it again. He was apparently satisfied with the answer as he turned off the wand and heaved himself back behind the desk.

  Withi
n moments, Emma saw movement through the glass, and a petite woman made her way to the heavy door. When she arrived, a buzz emitted from the barricade, and the officer pressed a button. A loud click echoed through the room, and the door slid open.

  “Agent Jennings?” she asked, extending her hand. “I’m ADW Bachman, but please, call me Caroline.”

  “A pleasure,” Emma said, shaking the woman’s hand.

  “Please, follow me back,” Caroline said.

  Emma followed. When they cleared the door, the same loud click sounded, and the door grinded shut.

  Even though there was little reason for it, Emma suddenly felt trapped. She had maybe one gadget in her car that could take down that door, and while she could probably signal Cam through the glasses, there was no guarantee he’d get this far. And while she didn’t think there were many, who knew how many assailants she could face in here, and unarmed.

  She kept telling herself it was paranoia, that nothing would happen. And if it did, it was her fault for rushing into this place. Emma hoped she didn’t reek too much of desperation.

  Windows opened out onto the prison’s yard, and several dozen men in jumpsuits seemed to be enjoying their recreational time. Not that many noticed her, but the ones who did stared longer than she preferred. She’d taken down men for less important reasons before.

  “What’s your interest in Maxwell Smith?” Caroline asked as they entered her office.

  The office was more decorated than the front foyer, with a handful of pictures hung on the walls and a few small bookcases. The desk was in nicer condition as well. Caroline sat behind it and leaned forward on her elbows.

  “He’s a person of interest in an identity theft case,” Emma said, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs. “We think he may have been helping out a group of people, from a technical standpoint.”

  “Interesting,” Caroline said. “That’s too bad.”

  “What’s too bad?” Emma said as the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Maxwell Smith died this morning,” Caroline said. “Suicide.”

  “Suicide?” Emma asked, taken aback. “After one night? Was he even charged with anything?”