The Pattern

by JT Kalnay

  Chapter

  June 10, 1994

  San Francisco, California

  Brilliant summer sunlight glistened off the gentle swells in San Francisco Bay. Craig, dressed in a pair of pleated blue pants and pink shirt held out his hand for Jean Bennett.

  “Welcome to California,” Craig said.

  “Thanks for meeting me at the airport,” Jean said.

  “It’s no problem. Getting to APSoft from the airport in a rental car is a problem. But me picking you up is not a problem,” Craig said.

  “We’re all set for the meeting with Stan?” Jean asked.

  “All set. He’s used to the annual ‘let me check your security’ drill by now,” Craig said. They walked casually toward Craig’s car, enjoying the summer and the sunlight.

  “So how’s good old Rufus doing?” Jean asked.

  “Rufus is Rufus. He’s a good old boy ain’t he?”

  “Sure is,” Jean said. A wolfish grin momentarily graced her face.

  Craig looked at her and tilted his head inquisitively.

  “Never mind,” Jean said.

  #

  “So most everything looks fine, as usual,” Jean said.

  “Thank you. We try to run a tight ship,” Stan said.

  “You understand our concerns of course. As the world’s leading supplier of aircraft and aircraft electronics we need to be sure our sub-contractors protect themselves adequately, to minimize the risk of potentially negatively impacting our systems. Think of the notoriety a hacker would get if he could bring up some message on a cockpit display during a flight. Worse yet, think what damage terrorists could do if they could hack the flight control software and land a plane into the terminal, instead of onto the runway. Or, in your case, reprogram an autopilot program to fly planes into the no-fly zone in Northern Iraq rather than staying over Turkish airspace.”

  The room went deathly silent.

  “We understand,” Stan said coldly.

  “So in that spirit, there is one thing I need to point out,” Jean started.

  “What’s that?” Stan asked.

  “It’s in your computer systems,” Jean said. “Your firewall system is too easy to breach. You can’t have all that Internet access with people “ftp-ing” files back and forth without a more secure firewall system. I’ve given Craig all the specifications for what we expect,” Jean said.

  “That’s it?” Stan asked.

  “That’s enough,” Jean said. “I’ll send someone down to check it out in two weeks. You know the terms of the contract.”

  “Fine,” Stan said.

  “Alright then. So anybody up for the Giants game this afternoon? I’ve got four front row seats at the Stick for the Giants and the Mets,” Jean said.

  “I’m in,” Craig said immediately.

  “Me too,” Stacey added.

  “Stan?” Jean asked, after waiting just a second too long.

  “Me? Oh, no thanks. But you all go ahead and have a good time. I won’t even charge Craig and Stacey a half day vacation. Put it down to client development,” Stan said.

  Stacey, Craig and Jean all chuckled politely.

  “Good call Stan,” Jean said.

  #

  “Too bad this fourth ticket is going to go to waste,” Jean said.

  “Better wasted than Stan,” Craig said.

  “Craig!” Stacey snipped.

  “Oh come on Stacey. It’s no secret, especially not to Special Agent Jean over here. The last game we went to he had a dozen beers in six innings. We practically had to carry him out. And let me tell you, that ain’t easy. They don’t call him the “walrus” for nothing.”

  “Well he still might have had a good time,” Stacey said. Her face revealed she was not going to give an inch on this subject.

  “Yeah? Well where does he get off with that “I won’t even charge you half a day vacation” bullshit? I worked eighty-two hours last week. And you’ve been all over the world on short notice lately. Washington, London, God knows where next. He owes us weeks of comp time if he’s going to start pulling that crap,” Craig said.

  Stacey and Jean shook their heads.

  “That’s why you get the big bucks baby,” Stacey said. She gently squeezed his thigh while Jean pretended not to notice.

  “Hey. Wait a minute. I know a guy who loves baseball. I met him while Stacey was in Washington. Let’s swing by his watering hole, it’s on the way, more or less, and see if he wants to go to the game. You never know,” Craig said.

  “Craig. You want to pull a guy out of a bar, a guy you just met and yet who you assume is going to be there at noon, that neither Jean nor I have ever met, and bring him to a baseball game?”

  “Uh. Yeah, I guess maybe another time,” Craig back pedaled.

  “Sounds fine to me,” Jean said. “And I am the client right? Is he single?”

  Stacey and Craig looked at each other, then at Jean. All three of them burst into laughter at precisely the same moment.

  #

  “Hot dogs. Get your hot dogs,” the vendor barked.

  “Four dogs over here,” Tim Ford barked back.

  “You guys want any?” Tim asked Craig, Stacey and Jean. They all laughed at the old joke. The hot dogs were passed over and paid for. “And send that beer guy back down too!” Tim ordered the vendor.

  “Sure buddy.”

  “Hey Tim. How about that cholesterol count? Hot dogs have got to be pretty high on the list,” Craig asked.

  “Craig. Don’t you know anything? Ballpark hot dogs don’t count towards cholesterol and ballpark beer doesn’t count in calories,” Tim said.

  “I think I’m going to like you,” Jean said, as she looked into his eyes for a moment too long and let her hand ‘accidentally’ slide across his thigh. Jean and Tim toasted each other with their hot dogs. Stacey and Craig shared a conspiratorial wink.

  #

  “Great game eh?” Jean asked.

  “For a Mets fan,” Tim answered.

  “Yeah. For a Mets fan,” Craig added. “So what now?”

  “My flight isn’t until nine thirty, so I’ve got time for dinner,” Jean said.

  “Great,” Craig said. “Where to?”

  Stacey looked at Jean then looked directly at Craig, lecturing him with her eyes. “Craig and I have some work we’ve got to look after. So maybe we can drop you two someplace? Is that okay? Jean? Tim?”

  “We don’t have anything to do,” Craig said.

  “Yes we do honey. You know that thing at home?” Stacey said.

  Craig wrinkled his brows and thought. Stacey glared right through him until finally he caught on. “Ohhhhh. That thing. Right,” Craig said. “So maybe we just better drop you two off somewhere.” Craig offered.

  “Fine with me,” Tim said. “I’ll get her in a cab back to the airport after dinner. We’ve both had a couple beers so that’ll be best.”

  “Okay,” Craig said. “It’s all set.”

  Chapter

  June 17, 1994

  San Francisco, California

  “How are you coming with the Central American update?” Stan Maxwell asked.

  “It’s going okay,” Stacey “Jack” Horner answered.

  “Do you have everybody’s data yet?”

  “Everybody except a few small charter companies in Mexico, and of course we have nothing from Colombia,” Stacey said. “One of these days they’ll wake up and join the IFF world.”

  “Not until they stop smuggling coke.” Stan said. “So, do the best you can.”

  “Will do,” Stacey answered. “I’ll send another email today and follow up with a phone call tomorrow.”

  “Good work. Keep me posted,” Stan concluded. He turned his considerable bulk broadside and squeezed through the doorway. Stacey imagined a yacht’s fog horn sounding as Stan gathered steam and disappeared down the hall.

  She went to her computer and started typing, opening a chat session with Craig.

  “I’m going to be half an
hour late for lunch. I’ve got to look after some email to Mexico. I’ll be over as soon as I can,” Stacey typed.

  “Okay. You know where to find me,” Craig replied.

  Stacey left the chat session open and started to compose an email.

  FROM: Stacey@APSOFT.COM

  TO: JESUSM@AEROUNO.COM

  DATE: JUNE 17, 1994

  RE: MISSING INFO

  JESUS! Stan is busting my ass about the IFF data for your charter planes. Can you be a pal and get it to me today? We’re just a couple of days away from releasing our newest version and we only need your fleet info and two others to have a complete Mexican module. You don’t want to be the one company to let down all of Mexico do you?

  Thanks for the tip on Telephonos De Mexico. We got some options and did very well. We owe you soccer (futbol) tickets to the game of your choice (within reason). Maybe we’ll get down there to climb the volcanoes soon. Anyway, if we come up with something as good, we’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks again Jesus. Bye.

  Stacey.

  She entered three more email messages then closed up her email application and returned to the chat session.

  “Craig? I’ll be there in five minutes. Are you ready?”

  “ACK,” came the reply.

  “You are such a geek,” Stacey replied.

  “NAK,” was the reply.

  Stacey rolled her eyes and quit the chat session.

  #

  Stacey and Craig walked back into her office.

  “Thanks for lunch,” Stacey said.

  “Anytime,” Craig answered. He looked around to be sure no-one was watching, then leaned in to kiss her.

  “Craig! Not at the office,” Stacey said backing away from his amorous advance precisely at the moment when Anthony Hayes walked into her office holding a chart on a clipboard. Two fields were highlighted and there was a graph printout.

  “Stacey? Glad I caught you. Did you send a bunch of stuff to Mexico today?” Anthony asked.

  “Yeah. I emailed for the IFF codes we need from a couple of charter companies. I also sent about my one thousandth pointless request to Colombia for information.”

  “Good luck on that,” Craig offered.

  “Why do you ask, Anthony?” Stacey asked.

  “Because we had a real spike of activity to Mexico and back about an hour ago. It must have been your emails getting bounced around that ridiculous email and phone system they have down there. You know, a zillion time outs and a zillion more retries.”

  “I’ve never had that problem with this client. He’s got really good stuff, high end private jets and super comms equipment. Did anyone else have network communications with Mexico?” Stacey asked.

  “No.”

  “Maybe some hacker piggybacked some packets on my messages? I’ve been reading a lot about them doing that lately. Hiding in routers and planting messages to be forwarded with someone else’s mail,” Stacey said.

  “Could be. But the simplest explanation is usually the answer. Just crappy equipment and lots of retries,” Anthony said. He sounded satisfied with his conclusion and turned to go. “Oh. And I don’t mind if you two smooch at the office. Kind of brightens things up around here. You know, young love and all that? Just do us a favor and make sure we get a good video for those lonely hours down in QA.”

  Craig blushed three shades of red in two seconds.

  Stacey looked Anthony straight in the eye and planted her fisted hands on thin hips. “To go with the rest of your Porno collection?” she asked.

  Anthony started to speak then quickly thought better of it. He chuckled a little laugh then slinked out the door.

  “Nice shade of red Craig. Maybe I can get you a lipstick to match?” Stacey teased.

  “I guess the secret is out,” Craig said.

  “I guess,” Stacey answered. She walked over to him, put her arms around him and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Come on lover, I know just the place for lunch.”

  June 19, 1994

  Chantilly Virginia

  Assembled From News Wire Reports

  A chartered executive Lear Jet inbound from Mexico City crashed today in heavy fog during final approach to Dulles National Airport in Washington D.C. Ten passengers and two crew members were killed instantly. There were no Americans on the flight and there were no survivors. Although the airplane had the latest electronics, it had aborted one landing due to the fog and was in the process of lining up for a second attempt when the accident occurred. The black box flight recorder has been recovered from the wreckage and the bodies have been identified. The last transmission from the cockpit was, “There seems to be something wrong with the electronics. Going around.” The plane disappeared from radar less than ten seconds later.

  Chapter

  June 20, 1994

  San Francisco, California

  Thin clouds drifted high above the city by the Bay. Craig and Stacey sat behind the APSoft building on the large cedar deck. A gentle breeze caressed Stacey’s long, summer golden hair. Craig was having a very hard time concentrating on the report in his hands.

  “Do you want to hear something weird?” Stacey asked.

  “I don’t know. Do I?” Craig answered.

  “Yes. You do,” Stacey said.

  “Okay. Let’s have it,” Craig said.

  “We’re three for three this year,” Stacey said.

  “I don’t get it,” Craig said.

  “On airplane crashes. We’re three for three.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Craig said.

  “Listen. First you know that guy in Turkey where the Blackhawks got shot down. Second, we both know Rakesh who’s been in Hong Kong where the plane that crashed in Nagoya originated. Third, my friend in Mexico works for that company that chartered that plane that crashed in Virginia the other day. We’re three for three.”

  “Better call the National Enquirer,” Craig said.

  “Jerk,” Stacey said.

  “We know somebody at almost every airline or aircraft manufacturer in the world Stacey. It’d be a miracle if we didn’t know someone somehow related to every crash,” Craig said.

  “You’re still a jerk,” Stacey said.

  “Yeah I know. It’s part of my charm,” he replied.

  Stacey made a face at him and rolled her eyes.

  “Please,” she said.

  “But you know what? You’ve piqued my curiosity. I’m going to do some research and see how many wrecks there have been in the last year. It does seem like there’s been an unusual amount doesn’t it?” Craig asked.

  “Nice try,” Stacey said.

  “No. I’m totally serious. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I really am curious.”

  “Um huh,” she said dismissively.

  "Ready to throw it some more," Stacey asked, dangling Craig's birthday Frisbee on the end of a long slender finger.

  "Not right now," Craig said. I better get started on that research.

  #

  Craig sat in front of the news terminal at the library. A short, brown haired woman looked on from the reference desk.

  PLEASE ENTER KEYWORD FOR HEADLINE SEARCH, the computer displayed.

  “Crash,” Craig typed.

  SEARCHING …

  15723 ARTICLES FOUND

  REFINE SEARCH?

  “and Airline*” Craig typed.

  SEARCHING …

  842 ARTICLES FOUND

  REFINE SEARCH?

  “[restrict 1990, 1994],” Craig typed

  SEARCHING …

  437 ARTICLES FOUND

  REFINE SEARCH?

  “[restrict 1994],” Craig typed.

  212 ARTICLES FOUND

  REFINE SEARCH?

  “[print to disk]” Craig typed.

  He put his high density floppy in the library’s machine and listened to it whirr and spin. A minute later he had his articles.

  “Thanks,” he said to the reference librarian. “All done.”

  “You can
have ten more minutes if you want, no-one’s waiting,” the young lady offered.

  “No thanks. Got what I needed,” Craig answered.

  “Glad I could help. We’re open until nine. That’s when we close. I’ll be here until then,” the plainly dressed woman said.

  “Thanks,” Craig answered. He waved as he left the reference section.

  #

  “We’re five for twenty three,” Craig said as he burst into Stacey’s office. A startled Stan Maxwell turned to look at Craig and sheaf of paper he held.

  “Five for twenty three what?” Stan asked sternly, with the bluster that only a truly large man can muster.

  “Um. On wrecks sir. Stacey and I were talking about how many people we knew who were involved with airplane wrecks this year. She thought we were three for three, kind of a cause for alarm. So I did some research and as it turns out, we’re only five for twenty three,” Craig said.

  “Your software has been involved in five of twenty three wrecks? What the fuck? That’ll ruin me!” Stan scowled. “Let me see that.” He pulled the papers from Craig and started riffling through them.

  “You know someone in China?” Stan asked Stacey.

  “Yeah. A very good friend of mine from college travels over there to do networking programming and maintenance for San Fran Securities. If you want the best network guy around, it’s Rakesh,” Stacey said.

  “Don’t need any more network programmers,” Stan grumbled, still looking through the papers. “Can I copy this?” he asked.

  “Sure. Why?” Craig asked.

  “I don’t know. Could be important for legal or somebody,” Stan said.

  “Keep it. It’s yours,” Craig said.

  “Thanks,” Stan mumbled. The portly man weighed anchor and slowly chugged out of the office.

  “So that’s a pretty glowing recommendation for your ‘very good friend’ Rakesh,” Craig said, the note of challenge and jealousy was clear in his voice.

  “He’s the best I ever saw,” Stacey said.