Pania calculated the remaining months. The Forum dates fell uncomfortably into that timeframe. She still had no clearer idea of the extent of the potential threat or even whether it was linked to the coming Forum. She glared at the report in disgust. So much time and money and still their understanding of the big job amounted to zilch.
She forwarded the encrypted file to George. This time she gave the email a status flag. George would get it before he left for their next meeting. She registered an alert with immigration. Should Brady return to NZ she wanted to know about it the minute he passed through customs. She could feel the frayed edges of something else just beyond knowing.
CHAPTER 35
At first it was just a faint prickly sensation felt at the back of her neck as if someone had breathed on her. Pania told herself it was nothing but the feeling continued to bother her. She never felt it inside, when she was at her desk or at home. It was outside in the street that she sensed it. She was being watched. It was a creepy thought. That faint puff of air had become eyes, cold eyes staring at her back, tailing her. Normally Pania would have ignored feelings without facts. Perhaps George’s anxiety was getting to her or those emails and now this business with Prez.
When it started to dominate her thoughts and she found herself jumping at shadows, she knocked on Parsons door. Almost immediately she regretted taking him into her confidence.
“Come in Pania. How are you? You look a bit peaky.”
“I’m fine really thanks but I think I’m being followed and I’d like some backup.” Parsons stared at her.
“It’s George isn’t it? He’s infected you with his constant harping. Who could possibly be following you? I mean you’re not that important girl.”
“This has got nothing to do with George. I’m not imagining it. I know I’m being followed. I don’t know why but it’s making me nervous.”
“Take a few days off. You’ll feel better after a break. The world won’t fall apart if you’re not at your desk for a couple of days. You’re just tired. The mind plays strange games when it’s tired.”
“I’m not tired. I’m being followed and watched. I don’t like it and I’d like backup.”
“Sorry Pania I can’t spare anyone. We’re overworked as it is with the Forum so close. I think you’re imagining it. You’ve listened to too many conspiracy theories. No-one’s watching you. Why should they be? I’m sure it’s nothing a holiday wouldn’t fix.”
She felt a rush of colour flood her face. Parsons was being particularly unhelpful. He’d used such a dismissive tone and, she was sure, would have patted her head if he hadn’t been behind his desk. It was a long time since she’d felt so patronised. She’d gathered up her tattered dignity and fled to the privacy of her office.
She spent the rest of the morning deep in thought. She didn’t know who they were, why she was being followed or what it meant. She just felt vulnerable. The thought that she might be in danger never entered her head, despite Mira’s warning but she didn’t like being spied on and wanted it to stop.
She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes. She was determined not to give in to paranoia. She was a police woman for god’s sake. She’d been trained. She remembered the lessons she’d learnt and practised when she’d been on the beat.
There were a few things she had to change immediately. She had to change her routines. Go to work at different times and by different routes, buy her morning coffee at a different café and change her lunch breaks. Never do anything the same, two days in a row. When she was out she needed to change direction often, retracing her steps as if she had forgotten something, pop into shops especially those with more than one entrance, check reflections and be observant.
She wondered what George would tell her to do. He liked things orderly and he liked to be in control and yet he was always telling them to expect the unexpected. He wasn’t around to ask and Parsons had proved useless so she was it. Be alert, she told herself, the world needs more lerts! She laughed at herself. There’s always a joke somewhere. Still she felt slightly better now that she had a plan. If only she knew what it was all about then she wouldn’t feel so exposed.
CHAPTER 36
The stress-ball in Fernando’s fist sighed in time to the pressure exerted on it. Sometimes it seemed to hold its breath just as the watchers did whenever the cursor paused as if trying to decide which message to display. The team was gathered around the master screen as they watched the old system being turned off and the new software kicking into action. These pauses could mean that the system was in trouble or just that the amount of processing was slowing the machines slightly. The list continued to show that everything was progressing satisfactorily and as the last one appeared they all let out a collective sigh.
The new software had been running in parallel since May and exhaustive testing indicated that it would be a successful implementation. Fernando had been working on the project almost every day for four long years and his team had done it, on time and within budget. Now New Zealand had a series of new portals through which all electronic traffic passed. It was a massive enhancement. The new technology was several generations ahead of the old system and would improve speed and volume of data flowing in and out. Bottlenecks and downtime would be consigned to history. The implemented software was like a vast electronic brain which monitored and protected the flow of data into and out of the country, checking for threats and malware. Like ants in a nest it actioned a myriad of simultaneous tasks effortlessly. It erected security walls when necessary, diverted and contained suspicious data packages and analysed data for activities deemed of national importance. It was his baby and he was determined to closely monitor its first days.
The whole team was excited. They’d worked long hours to ensure a successful implementation and now they were ready to party. Normally Fernando avoided socialising but tonight he would join them to celebrate their achievements. The team’s excitement had infected him.
It wasn’t that he was unfriendly by nature; he just felt he had so little in common with these people, besides he did not want to risk making any friendships or getting close to any of his team. It was too late for that now. Soon, with the project bedded in, they would all be going in different directions.
He went home to change and in the privacy of his room, he sent Frank a text to confirm the successful installation. It was a habit now and he didn’t give it a second thought. He removed the SIM, destroyed it and inserted a new card into the phone. He reminded himself that he had only to endure another three months and he’d be home. It felt good to be so close to leaving, job done, debt repaid. It would be wonderful to see his sister again.
Later in the evening after a few drinks he started to unwind. Everyone was in celebration mode and full of the joys of life. They were sitting around the table and unexpectedly the conversation focussed on Fernando.
“Hey Fernando what are you doing when your contract ends?”
“Me? I go back home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Bogotá, Colombia.”
“Colombia, what lingo do they speak, Portuguese?”
Such ignorance! It irritated Fernando. “No Espanol - Spanish. Only Brazilians, they speak the Portuguese.”
“Do you miss Colombia?”
“Si. I miss it mucho - I miss sister. She has baby I never seen. I miss ... ”
A lump came to his throat. He missed the familiar Bogotá lifestyle, the street theatre and the night life, soccer and carnival. Even after four years he was still homesick for Colombia. He missed the sound of Spanish, the smells of cooking and the constant animated clamour. It was always cold and wet and grey. He faltered lost in self-pity. His obvious homesickness unsettled them. Someone changed the subject looking for neutral ground.
“What’s Colombia like then?”
The silence prodded him. The questions made him nervous and he reeled off the facts to fill the silence and to stop the questions.
“Esta
tropical ... mucho hot. In highlands esta cooler. On map it’s at the top of Latin America, we border both el Pacifico y el mar Caribe. Los Andes run along ... la Costa Occidental ... so we lie along an earthquake fault just like your country and tanto ... both our capitals lie on a fault line. We have mucho grasslands and Amazon Rain Forest - en el sudeste.” He stopped breathless, his words all tangled up as he tried to explain. He wanted to say that the people were alive and vibrant unlike dull provincial Aucklanders. He wanted to say that he despised their narrow outlook and their lack of passion. There was so much he could not say.
“Were you born in Bogotá?”
The question reclaimed his attention.
“No.” The word was the same in both languages. Fernando hesitated. Normally he avoided talking about himself but the mood was carefree and as he looked around he saw familiar faces waiting expectantly. “No, I born in the country, on a farm in the province of Meda.”
“What brought you to Bogotá?”
The questions seemed unstoppable and he plunged on.
“My parents, they killed by revolutionary forces at Mapiripan. It was a terrible slaughter. My sister and I, we walk to Bogotá. It take us a year then we live on street. We homeless. One day we find AOL food centre, then we have food and place to live. I already read and write but not good. I stop school at thirteen. So I go back school.
“First time I see computer. I became a nerdio. How you say? A nerd?”
They laughed sympathetically.
“I think nothing matter but computers. The teacher, he help me. I study mucho hard.” He shrugged. “I pass exams. I go for university and AOL, it give me scholarship ... I graduate, get job. Now contrato, contact ... en Nuevo Zelanda. You know rest!”
They nodded. The topic of discussion and their attention moved on.
Fernando sat silent, letting the hum of words pass as he thought about going home. He could understand much more than his broken accent suggested. Being the focus of attention made him nervous and then words got mixed up. Nobody really noticed but whenever he needed to talk work, his English was perfectly adequate.
He thought about Frank, the American who’d changed his life, pulled him out of the gutter and believed in him. If he’d never met him he wouldn’t be sitting here. It was Frank who had sent him back to school, where he attracted the attention of his teacher. ‘Settle down lad and work hard, keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble.’ Fernando heard those words often for he wasn’t always a compliant student. Indeed he was often rebellious and yet he wasn’t a real troublemaker and somehow he’d kept away from drugs. His sister depended on him and how could he ever forgot that terrible year? Study dulled the pain and it became his refuge.
On his sixteenth birthday Frank offered him a place in an outdoors pursuit course. The course had many purposes. Under the guise of adventure, fun and challenge it developed the skills and endurance of the participants. It also assessed their aptitude for clandestine work. Fernando proved to be perfect and already he possessed valuable skills learned during his long journey to the city. Slowly and surely they moulded and captured his mind. That course changed him. It gave him a fresh purpose and a new attitude. He returned to school refocused and started to excel in his studies. Frank showed his delight by securing an AOL scholarship for him. In 2006 when Fernando graduated with first class honours he became the pinup boy for AOL Colombia. He had also, under Frank’s guidance, pledged his allegiance to the Chosen Way.
He started work, gained experience and a sound reputation in the field of network server applications. Two years later Frank suggested he apply for a New Zealand working visa and a network engineering contract. The position concerned the redesign and implementation of key software to drive New Zealand’s gateway servers. It would control all international internet traffic pathways and was of national significance. The job would stretch him and he’d learn new skills, which he could bring back. It was an exciting prospect and things fell into place very quickly. Fernando had no time to wonder what he might be getting involved with. He’d allowed himself to be convinced almost against his better judgement but Frank had been very persuasive.
“Four years is a long time. Isn’t there anything else? Perhaps I should wait for something shorter. What if I don’t like it in New Zealand?”
“No no! You’ll enjoy New Zealand. It’ll be good for you to experience a different culture. Four years will fly. You’ll see.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Four years is nothing. You spent five years at University and you know how the time flew. This‘ll be the same, you’ll see. Think of it as payback for all the support that AOL has given you.”
“If you put it like that I guess it’ll repay my debt to you and all those supporters who send you money. I don’t really want to go but when I come back the ledger will be wiped.”
“Atta boy! Now you’re talking. This is a strategic job. It will give you a chance to make a difference, to change the world. It’ll be your mission for The Chosen Way. You’re the only one who has the skills and the heart to do it.”
When he arrived in New Zealand he completed his first assignment. He bought a cheap prepay mobile phone, sent a brief text message to Frank then removed the SIM card and destroyed it. No-one could trace the message to him he was anonymous.
The weather was foul, cold, wet and windy for most of that first month. His sister tried to warn him but he never gave her words any serious consideration until he was feeling homesick and utterly sorry for himself. He missed her terribly. Still by then there was no turning back, no change of heart possible. Fernando did not like New Zealand and four years seemed an eternity. The only way to cope was to lose himself in his contract so with single-minded determination he focussed on surviving. He was strong and had overcome terror and hardship, now he learnt to endure another horror, the unhurried passing of time. He settled into his role and began the preparatory work, building his employer’s trust. He worked long hours, started early and stayed late. Slowly but surely he made it a habit to take home papers and reports, specifications and data. At first it was purely practical, related to the work at hand, but on occasion, confidential information disappeared into Fernando’s briefcase then returned early the next day. No-one noticed.
He was determined not to get comfortable and refused to socialise. Sometimes it was not easy for people continued to invite him to join them. His self-imposed isolation helped him minimise any sense of guilt, any sense of obligation to his employers. It made it easier for him to discard any thoughts that what he was doing was wrong. It wasn’t as if he was throwing bombs or shooting people, he rationalised to himself. He was a Defender not an aggressor. No-one would die because of what he had done; besides he would never deliberately cause another’s death. That was a line he would never cross.
Still he’d be glad to be finished with it all. Every year his private laptop was replaced by the latest model and its stored information retrieved and transferred by Brady to one or other of the ogdoad where it was mined for relevance to their secret projects. New instructions appeared on the replacement. When ordered, Fernando amended existing objects and classes and inserted the altered code into the new software. Small subtle changes here and there, changes which would lie dormant and undetected until triggered by some other piece of code. It was a very hands-off form of sabotage and he refused to consider what might one day happen. Even so, he despised his supervisors for their unthinking trust, for failing to detect his malware. It allowed him to sidestep those random pangs of guilt which intermittently assaulted him. They had brought it on themselves by their own incompetence and now, soon, he would see Frank again. He clung to the hope that he’d paid his dues in full and would start to live his life free from further obligations. He longed to be free to make his own decisions.
It was a wet, dreary afternoon in August and Fernando sat in the chilly internet café chatting with Frank. Most of the computers were unoccupied and the guy at the desk had
his feet up, engrossed in his ipad app. The air smelt of stale coffee and popcorn. Fernando blew on his fingers to warm them while he waited for Frank’s word to appear on the screen. At last he was going home. His flights were booked. He’d been pleased with the implementation and there had been no major crisis since cutover. He felt redundant, his continued presence more a security blanket than necessity and he couldn’t wait for his contract to finish and return to Colombia. He looked again at the words Frank had just sent.
‘You must be home by September 9. The party’s about to start and we want you home.’
I’m cutting it fine, he thought and typed,
‘No problem. My contract ends on the sixth and I’m booked to leave Auckland the next day. Should be home on the morning of the ninth. It can’t come soon enough. You’ve no idea how long these four years have been!’
‘You’ve done well Fernando - we’re real happy with your work. Just make sure you keep to schedule. It’ll be good to see you again. Have a pleasant flight.’
They shut down their link and he headed home. Until that last message from Frank, Fernando hadn’t realised how soon his concealed code might be triggered. He certainly did not want to be around when the system crashed. Tendrils of fear and guilt coiled in his belly and his heart accelerated in anticipation.
CHAPTER 37
Pania opened the email alert from Immigration. Brady Ambler had arrived back in New Zealand. She picked up the phone and rang Tom in Wellington Central. It took them a little time to arrange a tail and to obtain a permit to monitor phone calls and so Brady had several hours free of observation.
Blissfully unaware of the interest and activity his arrival had generated, he continued as planned. Walking into the arrivals hall he noted the sign with his name, identified himself and was given a set of car keys. His associate then disappeared into the crowd and Brady made his nonchalant way to the car park and located the rental. He unlocked the trunk and grunted, reassured to see that his orders had been followed. Eight identical briefcases lay under a checked picnic rug. He closed the lid and placed his luggage on the back seat. He stopped at the first shopping mall he passed to buy a cheap prepay phone and started to send text messages. He then drove to his hotel and dropped off his bags before leaving for his first appointment. He returned to the hotel for lunch. None of these activities were monitored.
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