Wreckoning

by Lee Harding

  “We need to get some air,” she announced. “Let’s get a genuine American Starbucks.”

  Michael blinked as he raised his head. Alana was jumping up and down on the spot to push some blood back into her legs. She was wearing a dark purple sweater that clung to all the right places. She had her hair tied back with a florescent bobble which bobbed with the rest of her.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  Alana’s face bore a scowl with a smirk as Michael shot up from his seat.

  “Yes. I mean, yes let’s go for a coffee,” he said.

  He walked past her picking up his coat as he went. He waited in the hallway as Alana collected her things and they set off to stroll along the the city.

  “Look, that car’s driving itself.”

  Michael followed Alana’s finger to the cream Volkswagen, a modern-day Herbie, whose only passenger was busy tapping his phone. The steering wheel swivelled as if by magic and the car turned into another lane.

  “It’s really remarkable seeing it work in real life,” Michael said. “California was the first state to legalise automated vehicles. Most people here don’t give it a second glance now.”

  It was true. They were the only ones gawping at the marvel of modern invention. Like all new technology it simply became a way of life.

  “I’d find it hard to let anyone else take control of my destiny,” he said.

  “And what if the right person came along?”

  Alana had a sparkle in her eye.

  “I suppose it depends on where they wanted to take me.”

  “Somewhere secluded where no one could see.”

  “And why would they do that?”

  Michael’s breath came out like a fiery mist in the fresh November air.

  Alana slid her hand under his elbow. “I think I could find a reason.”

  Michael adjusted to accommodate Alana’s smaller stature, and arm in arm they ambled down a hilly sidewalk.

  “Why is it we always meet at a coffee bar?” Alana said as they snuggled into the comfort of a cushioned stall.

  “I’m a caffeine addict. It’s one of my few vices.”

  “One of many for me,” she said. “Though I’ve been off the cigarettes for twelve days now. That’s good considering all the stress.”

  “Five years, two months and three days.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “That’s how long it’s been since I quit. Tried lots of times before but couldn’t manage it.”

  “So what made the difference?”

  Michael considered carefully before replying. “When I finally plucked up the courage to divorce my ex.”

  “Oh,” Alana said and looked out the window.

  “But that’s ancient history. A poor call of judgement. I’m afraid I can be easily drawn to bimbos.”

  Alana swung a hefty fist to sink into his shoulder.

  “Ow. What was that for?”

  “Nobody calls me a bimbo.”

  “And who said I was drawn to you?”

  Alana raised one eyebrow and he laughed.

  “Don’t worry, in no way do I consider you to be a bimbo. A bimbo is bleached blonde, has long legs, and has an IQ of below eighty. You’re far too short.”

  She went to punch him again but Michael caught her fist and instead of letting go brought her closer. Her palm opened and their fingers intertwined.

  It was Alana who noticed a self-service screen embedded in the table. They swiped over a dozen choices before deciding they should close their eyes and tap one at random. Michael selected a luxury hot chocolate while she was left with a fruit smoothie. When their order arrived, the disappointment on her face directed Michael to swap their drinks. This made her sit up and smile.

  “I had an idea about McBride,” she said as the frothy sweetness warmed her belly.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “During your interview he became nervous when you said how much Hydra is worth. Then when I mentioned the email coming from New York he went white.”

  “If we had access to his diary we’d know where he was at least.” Michael sipped his smoothie and recoiled in disgust.

  “I could probably get you that,” Alana said quietly.

  “How? Break into his office?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Michael tilted his head at her. “I really hope you’re not talking about hacking into Hydra Security? Apart from starting an international incident it can’t be done. Their defence systems are some of the toughest in the world.”

  “No, nothing as silly as that. Why use brute force to break into a castle when you can simply ask the guard to let you in?”

  Alana refused to say any more until they were back in the hotel room.

  “Okay, tell me what you’re planning.”

  “Have you ever heard of the term social engineering?”

  Michael knew exactly what was on her mind. Social engineering was a way of using a system’s weakest points against itself; chiefly humans. The phrase was coined in the late 70’s along with pretexting where telephone networks could be manipulated to provide free calls anywhere in the world. Pretending to be telephone engineers, Phone Freaks would use specific terminology to trick the operators into connecting them to Paris, Madrid, or even Timbuktu. The phenomenon was then carried into the corporate world where people masquerading as employees blagged their way into the heart of an organization. Many times they didn’t even need to be present. Just the tools of a phone, a confident manner, and a clear line of attack were all that were required.

  “You want to use a con?”

  “Why not? Journalists have been doing it for years. I studied the techniques when I was at university. And before you condemn it, social engineering isn’t exactly illegal. It’s just the right shade of grey.”

  Michael folded his arms. “It’s Sunday morning. McBride won’t be in his office until tomorrow. How are you going to get his diary?”

  “Piece of cake and being Sunday means it’s perfect timing.”

  Alana sat down by the laptop and navigated to the Hydra website. She scrolled to the bottom ignoring the promotional video until she found the link. A directory of the main pages was grouped into categories. It took a few seconds to discover the staff profile of Helen Chang. Her biography page said she came from Basingstoke in England, just west of London. She was married to Zhang Chang, had two children, and enjoyed skiing when she wasn’t at work.

  “They think that putting up personal information makes them appear more human and therefore more trustworthy,” Alana explained, “but as the old saying goes knowledge is power. Mrs Chang is about to help us get what we need.”

  She clicked on the website’s search facility and typed ‘John McBride personal assistant’. Twenty results showed. She clicked on the first. It was an article of McBride visiting a business in Japan. The photograph saw him surrounded by a group of smiling lovelies dressed in secretarial uniforms. “Not that one,” she mumbled and went back to select the next item.

  “There you go. Francine Walder, personal assistant to John McBride.”

  Francine had no profile but some more searching dredged up useful details including her age and fondness of shell fish. Alana found the number to Hydra’s switchboard and dialled.

  An automated service answered on the second ring. Alana drummed her fingers until the choice of speaking to a human was given.

  “Good morning, Hydra Security Corporation. How may I help you?”

  “Hello, could you put me through to Mr McBride’s office please?”

  “Who may I say is calling?”

  “It’s Helen Chang from Personnel. Who am I speaking to?” Alana said.

  “It’s Kirsty, ma’am.”

  “Good morning, Kirsty, and please call me Helen. Kirsty, I hope you can hear me okay. The reception isn’t great up here.”

  “Yes, I can hear you fine.”

  “Great. I’ve run into a bit of a problem and wondered if you could help? I came to
the Rockies to go skiing with my husband and two children as the weather forecast said there’d be snow. Anyway, everything’s gone wrong. First the snow never came, then I lost my cell phone, then my youngest fell on the practice slopes and broke her leg.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “As you can imagine things have been a bit manic. Losing the phone was a nightmare I didn’t need. It had all my passwords on it. Mike’s going to be livid. I also can’t access my diary and what with the accident I just can’t remember if I have a meeting with Mr McBride tomorrow or not.”

  “I’m really sorry but I can’t give out that information over the phone. If you ring back in the morning his secretary may be able to help you. Or if you can give me your Staff ID and password I can verify you through that.”

  Alana thought quickly. “If only I could but everything was on that phone. Kirsty, I know Francine will be happy to help but tomorrow’s too late. You know how Mr McBride reacts if someone’s late to a meeting?”

  “I’ve never spoken with Mr McBride before.”

  “He’s usually a gentleman but when it comes to missing a scheduled meeting...” Alana hissed through her teeth. “You know what I’m saying?”

  “I really would love to help but my supervisor would go nuts.”

  “What’s your supervisor’s name?”

  “Vinnie Ortiz.”

  “I think I remember Vinnie. Always wears the same clothes, is a real stickler for the rules?”

  Kirsty laughed. “That’s him alright.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll speak with him when I’m next in the office. Kirsty, I have to get back to the hospital. Is there any way you could just check his diary from your computer and see if I’m down to see him? A simple yes or no is all I need.”

  A pause then, “Sure. Just one minute.”

  Alana heard keyboard presses and mouse clicks before the switchboard operator spoke. “No, you’re not scheduled to see him tomorrow.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Alana put down the receiver and smiled at Michael who looked dumbfounded.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t all of your plan? We now know that McBride isn’t having a meeting with Helen Chang tomorrow which helps us how?”

  “Oh you of little patience,” Alana said and picked up the phone again before pressing redial.

  “Good morning, Hydra Security Corporation. How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Kirsty, it’s me again.”

  “Hi, Helen. Is everything okay?”

  “I was just about to go to the hospital and see Lori when I realized I forgot something. Francine was supposed to send me a copy of the minutes from our meeting on the 13th November. Because I’ve lost that damn cell phone I can’t check if it’s arrived yet. I really need to know if she’s forwarded it to Jack and Martine and somebody else I can’t recall. Would you be a sweetheart and check that for me?”

  “I’m sorry but I can’t check other people’s email.”

  “Oh well, never mind.”

  “But I can check Mr McBride’s diary for the 13th for the list of scheduled attendees.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  Michael shook his head as Alana gave him the thumbs up She lifted a pen as Kirsty came back on the line.

  “That’s strange. Mr McBride was in New York on the 13th. He was meeting with Lee and Goldstein Accountants. I don’t see an entry for your meeting with him.”

  “I’m such an idiot,” Alana said as she scribbled down the target information. “I was thinking about last month. But don’t worry, my husband’s glaring at me to hurry so I’ve got to go.”

  “I hope Lori gets better soon.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a life saver. Bye.”

  Alana ended the call and held up the page. “Now we add this piece to the jig-saw,” she said.

  “Very impressive. I didn’t know you were such an accomplished con-artist.”

  Michael moved behind her to massage her neck and shoulders. The warmth his hands provided made her go giddy. She let him continue as she typed the name Lee and Goldstein Accountants New York into the search engine.

  “It’s in the same block as Hydra’s New York office.”

  “Why would McBride be using another accountancy firm? Surely Hydra has their own accounts department?”

  “Perhaps it was his own personal account?”

  “McBride lives in San Francisco. He doesn’t own any properties on the east coast according to the FBI files.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “I’ll use my magic to pull the file on McBride from Goldstein’s offices,” Alana said with a wink.

  “Maybe you won’t have to.”

  Michael let go of her shoulder to lift his mobile. He searched for a name and pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Good morning, Agent Burns.”

  Alana half listened to the conversation as she read the contents of the accountant’s website. They were a large firm with offices in New York, Boston, and Washington DC. Lee and Goldstein specialised in managing corporation tax. They also acted as an investment broker trading in Government bonds and commodities like gold and silver. Perhaps McBride’s been investing his company’s money on the sly, she thought.

  “That was the FBI,” Michael said as he shut off his phone. Alana turned round to give him her full attention.

  “I asked him what he knew about Mel Goldstein. Burns says there’s an ongoing investigation into the company regarding allegations of fraud and money laundering.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Unfortunately he’s nipped our own investigation in the bud. He more or less ordered me to stay away in case I jeopardised their work.”

  “Cheeky git.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “It’s 11:48 here, 14:48 in New York, and 19:48 in London. I hope he has his phone turned on.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  Alana had her own mobile out and scrolled to her list of work colleagues. “Danny Larkin. You met him when you first spoke with me at The Unbiased Reporter.”

  “Was he the one with the scruffy hair?”

  “That’s Danny. Poor guy’s been in love with me for ages.”

  “So why are you phoning him now?” Michael said stiffly.

  Alana stood and straightened herself before placing her hand on his chest.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve never let him take me to Starbucks.”

  That left him breathless as she spun to speak.

  “Hi Danny, it’s Alana. I know I never normally give you a call outside of work but I sort of need a favour...No, I’m fine. I managed to get out of London safely. Believe it or not I’m in the States...It’s a long story but I need your help. You know about the stock market, the Dow Jones and all that? Have you heard of a company called Lee and Goldstein Accountants?...You have. Great. Listen, here’s what I need you to do...”

  Chapter 23

  25th November 21:14

  John McBride peered down to the boulevard below. It ran like a vein through the heart of the building. He always admired the autonomy of nature; that a beauty existed in of itself. But it required man’s direction, sometimes even force, to shape and fashion its elegance as it grew beyond its restraints. When he told the architects to leave an area for landscaping they assumed it would be a peaceful distraction for employees to escape during their free time. In reality it was his method of control, his silent dominance of his drones. A place where he could keep an eye on his workers especially when their guard was down.

  In every office, along every corridor, and in every restroom the security cameras kept an ever watchful gaze on his creation. All feeds piped into his computer. He was constantly surrounded by whispers. Paranoid they called him but they hadn’t been through hell. He had risen from the ashes, flying west to conquer. And conquer he did to the tune of $100 billion. Still the n
ightmares remained.

  The flash of bulbs and clicking of the camera shutters sounded like a swarm of grasshoppers as the press snapped. His wife deserted him when the hounds came scratching at his door. The accusations and insults from so-called friends and family drove a wedge between them until one day she wasn’t there when he returned home. He lost it all; his marriage, money, respect, and his sanity.

  It was his father who rescued him. He was carried back to the nest and nurtured until he was ready to fly again. During those restless nights and endless days hiding in that bungalow, he had an epiphany. A blueprint of his future mapped out within his mind. He would need to be strong. He had survived the horrors of prison, the stifling police cell, the humiliation of the trial and the crushing force of the British press so it was more than feasible.

  Capital was required so his father helped pull a few strings to land him a job. This was the first line in the programme. In time the next routine could be written. A computer programme is a collection of interdependent parts, each having to be developed then tested to ensure they slot together to form the full picture. His new job was merely the corner piece, the building block of his master plan.

  Things couldn’t have worked out better. He never forgot what he and Cameron created in those early years, even if he couldn’t bear to say the man’s name. He blamed Cameron Faith as much for wrecking his life as he did the justice system and the press. But that life was dead, only his vision mattered now. Soon he became the head of his department before being promoted to Chief System Administrator. He told his peers he wanted to try his hand at sales and word soon filtered to the managers.

  He began demonstrating the new range of security tools in London. Next was Europe: France, Germany, Sweden. He signed one hundred new clients in his first year and received a substantial bonus for his efforts. He was considered a genius in software architecture but was also amicable when required. Clients warmed to him immediately and he always kept in close contact.

  That was part of his plan. He didn’t consider it deceit merely another part of his programme. In truth he cared little for anyone anymore. Humanity had passed away with his previous life. The only thing that mattered was his vision.