The Winning Element

by Shannon Greenland

  He whipped around. “Yeah, I’m mad. I spent months telling myself I liked you only as a friend. And when I finally admit there’s something more, you almost up and walk away without any thought to it.”

  “But I didn’t walk away. I’m still here.” He’d spent months?

  “You know what I mean.” He turned and stalked off down the hall again.

  “David.” I jogged to catch up. “This isn’t about you. It’s about my parents. It’s about finding their killer.” If anybody understood that, it should be him. It wasn’t too long ago we were after his father’s kidnappers.

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” He stopped at the computer lab door. “Listen, I need time to think. I need time to cool off. And you’ve got a lot to deal with. Let’s just focus on the mission.”

  [3]

  I preceded david into the computer lab with a mix of emotions swirling in my heart. I’d hurt and disappointed him with the decisions I’d made. And even with that, he still admitted he liked me. He’d told me that before, but this time it seemed to come from his soul.

  I just hoped things could go back to the way they’d been.

  The computer lab door suctioned closed behind us, making a cool swooshing noise straight out of a sci-fi movie.

  David headed to the coffeemaker in the far corner. In the sink beside it, he poured out Chapling’s thick muck, cleaned the pot, replaced the filter, and started a fresh pot.

  I crossed the tile floor to the four computer stations that formed a square. One was mine, one was Chapling’s, and two sat vacant. I sat down at my station, taking in my setup. Wide, flat screen. Wireless keyboard and mouse. Made to order to my specifications. Too good to be true. I loved my computer.

  I placed the case file TL had given me next to the keyboard and touched the mouse. A dancing cartoon screen saver of a red-headed little person—courtesy of Chapling—flicked off. I keyed in my password.

  HELLO, GIGI, Daisy, the ranch’s system, greeted me.

  “Hi, Daisy,” I greeted her back.

  “Shhh,” David hushed me, and I glanced over at him.

  Chapling, he mouthed, pointing behind the standing metal cabinets that bordered the right side of the lab.

  Pushing back from my computer, I shuffled over and peeked around the end of the cabinets. Chapling lay on the floor in the corner, curled up in a chubby little ball. His tools and the guts of a computer were scattered all around him.

  He inhaled a soft snore, and I smiled. I’d never seen him sleep before. Actually, I’d never seen him so quiet and still. Guess the caffeine finally drained out of his system.

  David waved me over to the computer stations and, rolling out a chair, sat down at a vacant station next to mine. “Let’s be as quiet as possible,” he whispered, “so we don’t wake him.”

  Nodding, I sat down behind my computer.

  David pointed to the energy bar I’d shoved down my front jeans pocket. “Eat that, please, before you forget and hours go by and you still have nothing in your system.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, taking out the energy bar. For some reason, eating was one of those things I rarely remembered to do. If it weren’t for David and my friends, I’d probably eat once a day, if that.

  I opened the package and took a nibble.

  David pivoted his black leather chair toward me. “Before we get started on the mission planning, I need you to listen closely to what I’m about to tell you.”

  Swallowing my bite, I pulled my notepad from my back pocket and slipped the miniature pencil from the spiral. “Okay, shoot.”

  He gave the notepad a quick look.

  I frowned. “What?”

  David’s lips twitched. “Nothing.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He better not have anything to say about my dorky notepad.

  “Okay.” David rolled his chair a little closer. “This is one of the best, yet most difficult things TL has ever taught me.”

  I nodded, focusing.

  “You have to remove yourself emotionally from a mission. Personal feelings muddle rational thinking and effective decision making. Remember the Ushbanian mission? My father was being held hostage. Talk about emotional disruption.” David tapped his head. “Find a place in here to keep your emotions separate. Otherwise, they’ll mix and mingle and affect rational decisions.”

  I remembered the Ushbania mission. “When TL first presented the mission to us, you thought it was best you didn’t go.” That must have been so hard for David, knowing his dad was being held hostage.

  David nodded. “That’s right. When all I really wanted to do was storm over there and kick some butt.”

  And to think he’d been in such control. Calm. Focused. “You did great.”

  He smiled a little. “Thanks. Which brings us to you. Your parents are involved this time around. As hard as it is, you have to emotionally separate yourself. Look at the mission objectively, as though it’s someone else’s family, not yours.”

  I blew out a breath. “That’s going to be extremely difficult.”

  “Yes, it is. But you can do it. You’ll have to do it in order for the mission to succeed.” He rolled his chair out and stood. “Coffee’s done brewing.” He pointed to my energy bar. “And you need to finish that.”

  While he poured the coffee, I quickly ate the rest of my energy bar. As I chewed, I slowly clicked my brain into mission mode, compartmentalizing my personal emotions away from logic, just as David had suggested. It didn’t work so well, though. I couldn’t get my mom’s smile out of the forefront of my mind.

  He placed a mug beside my notepad. I took a sip. Mmm, exactly the way I liked it. Lots of sugar and no cream.

  It occurred to me then that I’d never told David how I liked my coffee. He must have watched me make a cup, and remembered.

  He put down his mug and took his seat. “First thing we have to do is scan through Eduardo Villanueva’s history and then find out where he’ll be next. Once we find out where he’s going to be, we’ll study the area and build our cover around that.”

  David took the folder from beside my keyboard. “Let’s review the case file and familiarize ourselves with Eduardo and his affairs. ”

  I watched as he scanned a page, then flipped it and perused another. “Looks like he was born into the business. His father and grandfather had their fingers in all sorts of things.” David turned another page. “Eduardo’s brothers, sons, and nephews are all involved. One branch of the family tree handles drugs, another guns, and our guy, of course, smuggles chemicals.” He shook his head. “One big, dysfunctional, happy family.”

  “What about the women?”

  David quickly read, shuffling through papers. “The women have the children and stay home, supporting their wealthy crime husbands. The entire family lives in South America.”

  “Interesting,” I commented.

  “I’m going to keep browsing through this. You see what you can find out about his next operation.”

  With a nod, I took a long, sugary sip of my coffee. Staring at the blinking cursor on my black screen, I let my brain click through its processes and organize a plan to trail Eduardo’s transactions, which would lead me to his network and personal computer. From there I’d hack and be in.

  I picked my glasses up off the table and slipped them on. I placed my fingers on the keys, and they suddenly flew. I cross-connected networks to cover my tracks. I wove in one grid and out the next, then leap-frogged through satellites. I ran an interpretation program to translate Spanish to English and located Eduardo’s last bank transaction three days ago in Venezuela. I created an algorithm to sneak in.

  A few more clicks and . . .

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Hmmm . . . click, click, click . . .

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Huh . . . click, click, click . . .

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Okay, think, GiGi. What’s the most important thing to Eduardo? Chemicals? “Do you have a list of the chemicals he’s smuggled in?�
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  David flipped some pages in the folder and pulled out one. He handed it to me. “Two sided.”

  I ran my gaze down the three columns of substances and flipped it over to see just as many. Randomly, I picked out a dozen and typed them in.

  ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED.

  On and on I typed chemicals as passwords. And one by one my access was denied.

  With a sigh, I sat back and thought from a different angle. The most important thing to Eduardo obviously wasn’t chemicals. David told me Eduardo has a big family and that they live in South America.

  I did a quick search on South American countries and cities and tried a few of those.

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Okay, let’s try family. “Give me the birthdates of Eduardo’s children.”

  David flipped a paper, perused. “Six, seventeen, sixty-eight. Eight, five, seventy-one. And eleven, thirty, seventy-three.”

  I keyed them youngest to oldest first.

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Then oldest to youngest. ACCESS GRANTED.“Finally, I’m in.”

  Stupid me. I should have tried family first. Most passwords were derived from relatives’ names and dates. You’d think the bad guys would know this and choose something else.

  His transactions scrolled across my screen. It came to a stop, and my gaze fell on the last figure. “H-holy cow.”

  David glanced up from the case file. “What?”

  I blinked. “Whatever chemicals he sold in Venezuela made him seven million two hundred thousand dollars. And change.”

  David whistled.

  I shook my head. Unbelievable.

  He tapped the open folder. “According to this, Eduardo lives in Potasi, Colombia. The only computers inside his mansion belong to his grandkids. All communication from him happens via remote access.”

  “I figured as much.” I clicked some keys. “So let’s see if we can find that computer of his.”

  Click, click, click . . .

  ACCESS DENIED.

  Staying with the family theme . . . “Give me his grandchildren’s names.”

  David shuffled through the papers. “Wafiya, Arturo, Unice, Ciceron, Sophronia, Emilio, Quetcy, Gaspar, Odette, Ivan, Kemen, Moises.”

  On my notepad, I jotted down all the names. Twelve in all. Jeez that’s a lot of grandkids. “Now ages.”

  David read those off, too, while I scribbled.

  On the Venezuelan transaction, he arranged his kids from oldest to youngest using their birthdates. So I needed to try the opposite order with his grandkids, using their names.

  But passwords can’t be more than twenty-one characters long. If he used the first letter of each of their names arranged youngest to oldest . . . quickly, I typed the letters, my blood zinging with the awesome energy that came with figuring out a puzzle.

  Bingo. “Got it.”

  David glanced up. “You’re kidding. It’s been only,” he checked his watch, “seventeen minutes and fourteen seconds since we sat down. I haven’t even drunk half of my coffee. And I’ve thoroughly read through only page five in the case file.”

  I shrugged. Seemed like it’d been a lot longer. “I would’ve been quicker if I’d thought of the family angle first.”

  David smiled and shook his head.

  Click, click, click . . . “I’m copying his hard drive.” I watched the screen flick. “It’s encrypted. I’ll work on that in a minute.”

  David came to stand behind me. “Are we talking everything? As in decades ago?”

  I pushed up my glasses, ignoring his cologne drifting around me. “It appears so.” My screen continued scrolling. “I’ll know for sure when I run this through some of Chapling’s decryption software.”

  As my computer continued copying, I started processing batches of the data through various decryption programs. I tried a standard alpha-numerical package first, then a beta platform. I ran it through a transcendental process, and slowly the encrypted data became readable.

  “Here we go.” Suddenly, a thought hit me. “Wait. If this is everything, then we have him. We have evidence. He can be arrested as soon as right now.”

  The screen stopped scrolling. David reached to my right, and, using my mouse, he clicked through the decrypted files, opening random ones and quickly scanning them. “What we have, essentially, is a journal. Yes, it chronicles everything he’s had his fingers in, but TL will tell you Eduardo has to be caught in the act.”

  David let go of my mouse. “So we need to figure out where he’s going to be next.”

  While I continued to click away with the files, weaving through Eduardo’s hard drive, David resumed his seat. He flipped a page in the case file and continued studying.

  “Barracuda Key,” I announced, looking at a satellite map of Florida that popped up on the screen. “It’s one of many tiny islands trailing off the southern tip of Florida.”

  David rolled his eyes up from the file. “Do you realize I’ve read exactly one and a half paragraphs?”

  I shrugged innocently. “Do you want me to work slower?”

  He sighed through a smile. “No, of course not. Sometimes I forget what a genius you are.” He closed the file. “Barracuda Key?”

  I nodded.

  “What’s going on in Barracuda Key?”

  I started searching his journal again. “Let me see”—click, click, click—“Huh”—click, click, click—“Oh my God”—click, click, click . . .

  David rolled his chair over. “What?”

  “He’s not just smuggling in chemicals.” A few more clicks. “According to this, people are actually going to Barracuda Key to get these chemicals and make their own bombs on site. Then they’ll be shipped out from there.” I rubbed a tight muscle in my neck. “So what’s next?”

  “Find out when he’s going to be in Barracuda Key.”

  Click, click, click . . . “In four weeks.”

  “Where’s he staying?”

  “Give me a minute.” I pulled up all the hotels in Barracuda Key and hacked into their systems, cross-referencing phrases in Eduardo’s journal. “From what I’ve been able to gather, the Hotel Marquess.”

  David rolled his chair closer to see my screen. “Now bring up every tourist function and event going on in Barracuda Key, Florida. Preferably at the same hotel. We have to find your cover. You can’t just show up as a vacationer. You have to blend in with a group. We need to have a reason for you being there.”

  “Makes sense. Let’s see . . .” I went to the tourist Web site for Barracuda Key island and began searching. “Boy Scout Jamboree?”

  David shook his head. “Won’t work with Beaker. It’d work if TL wanted one of the guys to go.”

  “Why is Beaker”—I tried not to cringe as I said her name— “going?”

  “I thought that was pretty obvious with the chemicals involved. ” David’s eyes crinkled. “My other guess is because you two don’t like each other, and everyone knows it. This is TL’s way of making you two get along.”