by C. B. Carter
“Why not have it here?”
Cricket laughed at the idea, a bit of tech humor that Mr. Wright just didn’t understand. “We’re capturing twenty-four cameras and forty-eight voice channels, twenty-four hours a day, for who knows how long. Video and voice files are huge and would quickly overwhelm anything we could cart in here. Plus, the server acts as the gateway, a third party, for our digital signature. We don’t want another DeepSouth.”
“Yes, DeepSouth, we did get screwed. I still want to put a little pressure on them. They owe us and I will get my revenge.”
Mr. Wright sat in the chair next to Cricket and stared mindlessly at the monitor as he recalled the DeepSouth contract. It was simple enough. The client wanted a sneak peek at the books and inner workings of a competitor, in the hopes of taking advantage of pressure points. Was the competitor’s weakness accounts receivable? Maybe more along the lines of a strained supply chain? Was someone skimming a little off the top or was the company overleveraged in retirement plan commitments. His client wanted anything to start a rumor that had just a tinge of truth.
The mark, pressured by Wright, delivered the data needed and Cricket passed it along to a clearing house for DeepSouth. The client eventually ran the competitor through the rumor mill, hiring five cent per post bashers to post on message boards, and leaking confidential information to media sources. The competitor’s stock tumbled and Mr. Wright’s client purchased all of its assets through liquidation proceedings at the end of a two month bankruptcy for pennies on the dollar. In the end, they had all the assets and managed to rid themselves of a competitor.
The client claimed the success was due to the hired bashers and not the data Mr. Wright and his team provided. Mr. Wright was shocked to learn that some bashers and pumpers are well connected, well-funded, and can swing the sentiment of a company’s stock through social media, blogs, even print articles in newspapers and journals.
Mr. Wright knew DeepSouth used the inside information provided by his team and the client owed them 8.9 million dollars for their work, but reneged, claiming they never got the numbers and that what they did get, they didn’t use. Cricket was sure they had received all the numbers, but couldn’t prove it. In criminal ventures, parties can’t simply involve the authorities, so when one party doesn’t live up to the deal, the only option left is revenge.
Mr. Wright restrained himself. “Don’t worry, Cricket, once we’re done with this project, we’ll get our revenge on DeepSouth. I know you’re looking forward to it. They basically called you a liar.”
“I know. It still pisses me off. That’s why the data being sent to Project Northwest’s war room carries a digital signature. Each file packet, when delivered, gets signed, when opened, gets signed again, and when returned back to our data center, gets signed once more. No one will be able to claim that we didn’t provide numbers. Their digital fingerprints are all over it and the beauty of it is that if they don’t pay, we can use it against them.”
“Very good. So what kind of revenge do you have in mind for our misguided client, DeepSouth?” Mr. Wright asked as he placed his hand on Cricket’s shoulder.
“Will it be my call?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I’d love to bring them to their knees, not a virus or worm, but something far more sinister, I’m thinking of polymorphic code.”
“Tell me about it later. My only request is not only does the company go down, but the president, the CEO, the CFO, and their kids, end up on the street. Think you could do it?”
“Yes, I dream of it in code every night.”
“In code?” Mr. Wright shook his head in disbelief. “We got to get you a girlfriend, Cricket. Is she moved in?” he asked as he pointed to the picture of Ms. Davies on the middle screen.
“Yes, they moved all the boxes first, then took the large items to the storage unit. The associates just returned the van and are going back to the apartment to sign the new lease with the landlord.”
“Perfect. Ms. Davies may or may not be upset the landlord leased it before the thirty day expiration, but we both know we couldn’t leave the microphones and cameras in an empty apartment and we couldn’t leave it in her name. Mr. Spain is smart and would’ve found a reason to go there and we would’ve been blind.”
“Is she at The Lounge?”
“Yes, she arrived about thirty minutes ago. We have associate one in The Lounge watching her and the GMC outside.”
“Okay, today was a good day. Process the images on this sim card from DuVall’s office and get them to the client. Nice screen saver by the way, which island is it?” He tossed Cricket the sim card for a digital camera.
“Yeah, the screen saver is my dream spot, the end of the Rum Point pier on Seven Mile Beach. It’s on Grand Cayman. Haven’t been there yet, but I will.”
“I think I’ll have a little good scotch and smoke a cigar out on the balcony. I picked up a nice Macanudo Corona after my meeting with Mr. DuVall. You won’t call the Seattle police, will you?” Wright joked.
“Only if you don’t share a little of the scotch.”
Mr. Wright pondered the deal, as if Cricket had just asked him something personal about his family. “Okay, just a little. God knows you could use better dreams.”
Mr. Wright made it to the balcony first, sat, and lit his cigar. Cricket followed and took the other chair.
“How did the marks do today?” he asked.
“Spain and Spenser did well, so that’s four solid days of numbers. About a thousand little pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place for our client.” He took a small sip of the scotch and continued, “All indications from the client’s war room show they are pleased. Miss Spenser has moved the questions along nicely, and we are now getting a true read on the bank’s liabilities and daily outflow. Mr. Spain isn’t holding anything back.”
“And our other marks?”
“Our third mark has transmitted some one hundred plus highly confidential documents and emails. The information is proving to be extremely helpful to our client. The fourth, from what I gather, will be dealt with at nine tonight.”
Their glasses clinked together.
“Please make sure the accounts are ready. Tomorrow, we will receive our fourth weekly expense payment in the amount of five million and our first quarter payment for the contract, a respectable twenty-five million. What’s your take on the bank?”
“You know, it’s middle of the road. She’s taking some punches, but her assets and subs are strong. There is one weakness, a troubled mortgage branch in California. We haven’t seen the rumor mill fire up yet, though. When our client strikes, that lending unit will be leaked to the media as a systematic symptom of the entire bank and the run will begin. Of course, any sitting Congressman who is willing to listen will receive secret phone calls and minutes of secret meetings, all suggesting dire months ahead. Do you think the bank has any idea what’s about to happen to them?”
“I doubt it. It’s a crazy system, right, Cricket?” Wright felt the cherry on the cigar was just right, took a long drag and swallowed his scotch in one gulp.
“Yes sir, but we’re the crazies who built it, or went along with it being built. I mean, we have quasi-government agencies that pick when they’re a government agency and when they’re a private entity, depending on the noose they’re trying to wiggle out of. It’s all about the money. It’s all about power.”
“How long have we known each other, Cricket?”
“About seven years, Major.”
“Don’t insult me with that title. Seven years, so you know this isn’t about money for me.”
“I know, sir, but it’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, it is. Yes, it is,” Mr. Wright conceded.
He stood and patted Cricket on the shoulder. “Don’t get drunk on the scotch, let’s get back to work. I have a meeting with Mr. DuVall tonight.”
Chapter Fifteen
~ Mark in Deep ~
Mark arrived at the parking
lot of the Embassy Suites at 5:10 P.M. The radio station announced it was 44 degrees and overcast, and then moved to the Orioles and Mariners score. The Orioles were being tormented by a five-run deficit. He made a pass around the entire building, looking for any Tahoes that matched James’s description and didn’t find any.
He then focused his attention on any black vehicle, SUV type, and recorded all the tag numbers into a notebook, along with the parking spot and notes about how the vehicle was parked.
He used to be able to just read the odometer, but now, with most vehicles having a digital gauge system, that trick no longer worked. He had to mark the tires with chalk. It was simple really, if the chalk line moved, then so had the vehicle. There were only five vehicles that matched what he would consider a professional outfit vehicle.
He strolled into the lobby and noticed a young man behind the check-in counter. His charm didn’t work well on men, so he drove across the street, checked into a nearby hotel and called the Embassy Suites number every ten minutes after the hour until he heard a female voice answer.
“Embassy Suites, this is Suzie, how can I help you?”
“Sorry, I have the wrong number.” Mark hung up the room phone, put on his coat, and drove back to the Embassy Suites parking lot and made another round. Only three of the five vehicles had moved. Past experience told him a room full of guys would have to eat and he crossed out the two tags that hadn’t moved. He also crossed out the Ford Escape, due to political stickers on the bumper.
He would now focus on getting information on the two that moved and found the VIN of each. He needed to talk to Suzie to see who registered room 122 last Friday.
He entered the lobby and there stood Suzie behind the counter. She was just as he expected, young and cute. His favorite.
“Good evening, are you checking in?”
“Not yet, I’m waiting on a business partner,” he said, as he loitered near the front desk counter scouring it for clues about her.
He noticed she was reading Intensity by Dean Koontz. He hadn’t read it, but was familiar with the author’s work. Suzie liked a little suspense and fear—that was her keystone and a possible way in. Her coffee cup was half-empty and he noted the two discarded brown sugar packs in the trash can.
“Ever been to Napa Valley?” Mark blindly asked her.
“No, I haven’t, why do you ask?”
“Oh, I see you’re reading Koontz, a lot of his settings are in the Napa Valley area, right?”
“Yes, he usually places his stories there. Have you read this one?” she asked, holding up the book, starting to open up and engage him.
“Intensity. No I haven’t. Is it good?”
“Oh, yeah, one chapter kept me awake all night. I was afraid to put my feet on the floor. If I didn’t have to pee, I’d probably still be in bed.”
Mark laughed. “Wow, does sound good, you have a nice sense of humor. That was funny. Well I’m sure you have work to do, so I’ll just wait in the lobby. Mind if I help myself to a cup of coffee?”
“Not at all, help yourself.”
“Would you like a fresh cup? You take two natural sugars right?”
“Sure, how did you know I took two sugars?”
“Anyone as sweet as you takes two sugars,” he called back as he prepared the coffee. “Just kidding, I saw the open packets in your trash can and put two and two together.”
She didn’t respond and this was always the fulcrum point in his game. Was it about to tilt toward bad or good? Did she have a boyfriend and find the flirtation insulting? Or did she not have one and found the flirtation enjoyable?
“Here you go. Two sugars and a stirring straw.”
Mark stayed at the counter, almost to the point where it had become uncomfortable and was about to turn and sit in the lobby when she reengaged him. “You’ve been to Napa Valley?” she asked.
Mark’s face lit up with a big toothy smile. “Yes, I’m from Sacramento, so it’s a short trip. Did you know Napa is a Native American word? It means grizzly bear. I know you haven’t been, but you should definitely make the trip, you’ll enjoy it. My business partner and I have a little land there where we raise white grapes. Do you like red or white wine?”
Twenty minutes later, with a promise to show her around if she ever wanted to get away for a weekend, he was in.
She found the record in the database and viewed it on the computer. “Rooms one-twenty through one-twenty-three are all registered to a company called PNW, Inc. Would you like me to print it?”
“No, I was just curious. I thought it was them, they are competitors.”
“They’re in the wine business, too?”
“Yes. Why? Did they say something else?”
“No, it’s just they were, you know, very impersonal, not like you at all. And dressed like government agents,” she said with suspicion as she recalled the day Mr. Wright checked in.
“I bet. Mr. Wright is a bit of a hard ass when he’s on the road. That whole team is weird and the shame of it is that they are doing better than we are in sales. Were they rude to you?”
“No, just weird, like you said, and I did hear one of them call the other Mr. Wright. They kept going out the side door causing exit alarms.”
“Yeah, that is weird, see what I mean?” His cell phone rang. It was Aaron with perfect timing.
Mark excused himself and took the call. “Three, five, seven, right. That’s the key, right?” Aaron said as soon as Mark answered the phone.
“Yes, that’s it. Well, as promised we’ll be going to San Fran, good job.”
“I knew I would get it. Okay, I’ll get the dates and set everything up.”
“Sure, we’ll make a trip of it. I will call you later.”
“Okay, mom wants you to call as soon as you get to wherever it is you’re going.”
“Will do. Give me about ten minutes, bye.” Mark hung up the phone. “Well, Suzie, you’re good luck. That was my business partner and he landed a contract with a company in San Fran. It was a pleasure talking to you and don’t forget, look me up.”
“Nice talking to you too, Mark,” she said as she watched him walk out the door.
Back in his Explorer, Mark was admitting to himself that he would have to find a new line of work. Falling in love with Tina and Aaron meant his ability to charm was going to hurt the people he needed information from, his marks. Before Tina, he would have met Kara and Suzie and showed them a great time and no one would’ve been hurt. Now he felt bad. Odd, he thought, or maybe he was maturing, he didn’t mind getting into scuffles with the occasional jealous boyfriend and suffering the lumps and bruises, but now he was hurting the girls. He had to call Kara and cancel and knew he’d never see Suzie again, but it didn’t make it right to play with her emotions.
Back in his hotel room, he opened the laptop, completed a carfax search on the internet, using the VIN numbers he’d collected earlier, and got a hit. One vehicle, a GMC Terrain, showed it was registered in White Plains, New York, late last year and had a police report, case # 04–0883.
In his business, Mark had access to several people search databases and a powerful business search database. A search for Mr. Wright and White Plains showed two recent hits related to an address on Manhattan Ave. The business database showed only one business at the address, ESP Sphere, William P. Wright, but the trail quickly went cold. That’s our man, Mark thought.
Mark selected Tina on his phone and pressed call. “Hey, baby, have another favor to ask.”
“I was hoping you’d call. Aaron says you two are going to some kind of expo?”
“Yes, pinky promise. Why? Is it a problem?”
“No, not really, I guess it’s good you two are getting close, just a little worrisome, you know.”
“I know, I’ve been thinking about all of it and I want to have a serious talk when I get back.”
“Okay, what’s the favor?”
“Got a pen?”
“Yep.”
“Ne
ed you to sweet talk one of your investigator buddies into getting some information on a William P. Wright, White Plains area of New York State. Recent case number zero four dash zero eight eight three. He’s associated with a company called ESP Sphere.”
“Sure, I’m still at the office, do you want me to start now?”
“You’re a peach, you know that? A nice juicy ripe peach. The faster I’m done with this, the faster I can come home, so yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“On my way. Will give you a call in a few. Love you.” She caught herself, but it was too late, the words leapt from cell tower to cell tower, travelled from Sacramento to Seattle in an instant and pounded Mark’s eardrum. Mark heard them loud and clear. ‘Love you’ just suspended itself in the air waiting to be acknowledged.
...Waiting....
...Waiting....
“Love you, too,” Mark said and he meant every syllable.
Twenty minutes later, she had the information and was on the phone with Mark.
“Couldn’t find anything about the company, very hush, hush, but did find your William Paul Wright, he’s ex–military, US Air Force, and has only had two run-ins with the law, but both are sealed. They appear to be traffic tickets, nothing major. There’s no known address and no aliases.”
“How hard is it to seal traffic tickets?”
“The same as any seal, but the question is why would anyone go through the effort?”
“Exactly. Any personal info, like social security number or anything?”
“Not really. We do have his military service number if that helps.”
“It sure does.”
“If your next favor is to ask me to dig into a military database, I think you’re S. O. L.”
“It’s okay, I have a contact.”
“You have a contact, a military contact, who?”
“Bama.”
“Bama. The guy that almost killed you in college?”
“It was a lucky first hit. I thought I made that clear. I could’ve taken him, but yeah, same guy. Turns out he was waiting to be transferred to West Point when we had our little scuffle. He called me during my senior year and asked that I help him out with his background check. He was 17 when it happened and the event was sealed, but the Air Force Office of Special Investigation would dig deep and since I didn’t press charges, he asked for this one favor.”
