by Dean Atwood
“Good answer.”
McCoy pointed to the man examining the corpse that was still lying on the ground. “The coroner is checking the body before bringing it to the morgue for an autopsy. I don’t expect he’ll be able to tell us much from his examination here. If he recovers the bullet during the autopsy that could give us a clue. The CSI is taking photos and looking around for any physical evidence.”
“Do you know where all of the surveillance cameras are located at this facility?” QT asked Daphne.
Daphne looked back at the building and pointed. “You can see the cameras along the entire length of the roof. I’m sure we have good footage of anyone in the parking lot before, during, and after the shooting.”
“I bet the NSA and DIA are already reviewing the videos,” QT said. “What’s the fastest way for us to get access?”
“I can arrange it.”
“Great. Before we do that, can you tell me whether there’re any security cameras over there?” QT said, pointing to the area where he’d been parked when the shooting occurred.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll check with our internal security people to confirm it.”
“Also, check to see whether there’re cameras along the backroad that exits onto route 29.”
“Do you think the killer shot from up there and escaped via the backroad?”
“That hill would be the most logical place for a sniper to choose.”
“Hey, Doc,” Quinton said. “Can you determine whether the shooting was from short-range or long-range?”
A fastidious man with graying hair, delicately reexamined the gunshot wound. “This injury was definitely caused by a high-powered rifle from a distance of more than 400 yards.”
“I can see you have this under control,” McCoy said to Quinton. “I’m going back to the office. If you need my assistance, let me know.”
“Before you leave, I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
Quinton glanced at Daphne before turning his attention back to McCoy. “It’s about the embezzlement case.”
“I told you that’s low priority. The offender isn’t a flight risk. It can wait.”
“It won’t take long,” he said to McCoy.
“Daphne, can you go inside and track down those videos? I’ll join you in few minutes,” QT said.
“OK, I’ll be in the media room on the second floor.”
Quinton waited until she was outside of hearing distance before he spoke.
“It’s about Blaire.”
“Did you find her?” McCoy said.
“I talked with her a few minutes, ago. She’s in hiding until we’re sure she’s out of danger.”
“Who’s she hiding from? I would think she’d feel safe inside the JUIAF with all these soldiers surrounding the place.”
“She told me that the sniper who killed Jeremy also tried to kill her. She was lucky to escape with her life. It’s possible the motive is related to the task force she’s assigned to.”
“We better tell the NSA and DIA we found her. As far as I know, they’re still searching for her.”
“I was hoping you could smooth it over with them, so they’d stop looking.”
McCoy rubbed his hand up and down the right side of his face as he thought. “Colonel Smithers won’t be happy about it and neither will the NSA. The DIA is moving forward with whatever project they’re working on, and they want Blaire to continue as part of the team. Of course, they could change their mind if they think she’s somehow involved with Glover’s murder.”
“You can tell them, she’ll be at the JUIAF for an interview by the end of the day tomorrow. I want to speak with DIA Special Agent Warren first. Blaire told me he’s leading the task force.”
“Alright, I’ll talk with the colonel on my way out and get the word to the NSA, but you better bring her forward by tomorrow evening. From what you say, she’s going to appear on that surveillance video, so there’s going to be a high sense of urgency to speak with her.”
“Thanks, boss. The video footage will confirm beyond a doubt that Blaire was a target herself and had no part in the FBI agent’s murder.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m surprised the FBI field office approved of you taking the lead on this case. If they thought you had a conflict of interest before, what are they going to think when they find out Blaire was present during the shooting, and you’re the one interviewing her?”
“Do you have to report back to the Richmond office about that? After the interview, assuming she is cleared to rejoin the task force, it’ll be a moot point.”
“I won’t take the initiative to communicate it to the field office, but I won’t lie if they find out and I’m asked about it. You’re going to give me an ulcer before I have a chance to retire.”
“Under the circumstances, do you think your retirement date will be pushed back? I’d hate to break in a new boss in the middle of this case.”
McCoy shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We’ll have to see how this plays out.”
Chapter 14
H arold Bitner, aka Dr. Bit, inherited his two-story, colonial style, brick house from his parents. The home was situated near Rugby Road, close to the UVA campus. The neighborhood consisted primarily of professors, college administrators, and others associated with either the university or the UVA Medical Center. After receiving his doctorate in computer science, Dr. Bit considered following his parents into academia but found the life too restrictive. With his inheritance and consulting jobs, he’d managed to accumulate enough wealth to maintain his modest life style without the commitments of a full-time job.
As Lieutenant Mad walked up the sidewalk, she glanced at the house across the street from Dr. Bit’s. The curtain was partially pulled to one side and the gray-haired lady, who Dr. Bit referred to as Betty Busybody, was peeking through the window. When the lieutenant stared in her direction, Betty quickly closed the curtain.
The lieutenant walked up the steps to the brick house and reached for the doorbell, but before she could ring it, a voice came through the mounted speaker and said, “Halt! Your every move is being monitored. To gain entrance, say the password,” a computerized voice said.
“The password is, Dr. Bit is an asshole,” she said.
“Incorrect password, try again,” the computer said.
“Dr. Bit is a moron,” she said.
Dr. Bit’s voice came through the speaker. “That’s not it, but I’m going to give you credit for originality and override the automated system to allow you to enter.”
The doorlatch clicked and the lieutenant entered the house and closed the door behind her. Even though she’d been in the house before, every time she was there she had an uneasy feeling that somebody was watching her. It wasn’t unfounded paranoia. She was aware that Dr. Bit had installed hidden cameras in every room of his house, which was a key factor in her rejection of his offers to stay in one of his spare bedrooms or use one of his bathrooms to shower.
She walked down the hallway to the basement door, which automatically opened. As she descended the stairs, the room brightened from the ambient light generated by multiple large screen monitors mounted on the wall. It was a large room, at least twenty-five feet by forty feet with a seven-foot-high drop ceiling. It was packed with computer and network equipment, and there were no windows, which caused the lieutenant to feel somewhat claustrophobic.
“Why do you refuse to say the password we agreed to use?” Dr. Bit said.
“Because I know you can see me.” She pointed to one of the monitors that displayed the camera view from the front door. “Besides, it isn’t an effective system.”
“What do you mean it isn’t effective,” he said defensively. “I use a strong password with random letters, numbers, and special characters.”
“Let me give you an example. What if Betty Busybody is a CIA operative, disguised as a nosy neighbor. She could have a remote eavesdropping device aimed at your front door, which coul
d steal the password if I spoke it. Then she could come to the door, blind your camera with her laser device, play back my recorded voice — saying the password — gain entry and wipe out your entire data center along with you.”
“Not likely,” he said, but the lieutenant suspected he’d never look at Betty the same way again.
“But, possible.”
“I’ll put a scrambler in place that’ll block the ability to remotely eavesdrop.”
“For every scrambler, you install, the spooks will develop a descrambler. They’ll always have more processing power than you.”
“You’re such a pessimist.”
“You’re such an optimist, which is why we work so well, together. We balance each other out.”
“Find a chair you like and sit down,” Dr. Bit said.
It wasn’t as though she had a choice of seating. In addition to the doctor’s swivel chair, there were three other office chairs, each of which was in front of a table with a laptop. Two of the three were already occupied, one by L. Ron and the other by Rasputin. Both of them were in cyberworld and either didn’t notice the lieutenant’s entrance or didn’t feel the need to acknowledge her arrival.
“What are Frick and Frack, so interested in?” the lieutenant said as she sat down in the empty chair next to Dr. Bit.
“They’re doing the research we discussed at our gathering on the downtown mall this morning.”
“What have you come up with?”
Dr. Bit typed on his keyboard and displayed the results on the monitor in the center of the wall in front of him. The flash distracted Rasputin and L. Ron enough for them to switch their attention from their laptops to the wall screen.
“This is DIA Special Agent John Warren. He’s the leader of the Project Typhon task force, which we’ve learned is investigating Upshaw Corporation.”
“Aren’t they the big computer technology corporation that’s heavy into military applications?”
“Yes, that’s the company. We’ll get to them in a minute. Let’s cover the task force first.”
“OK.”
“As his personnel file shows, in his early career, Special Agent Warren was an army sniper. Rasputin, do you or your buddies know anything about him?” Dr. Bit said.
Rasputin nodded. “I’ve heard of him. He was strictly a battlefield sniper. No hits for the DIA or other intelligence agencies that I’m aware of. But, he had talent. He had more than twenty-five kills in the Middle East.”
“For the past ten years,” Dr. Bit said, “Warren has been with the Defense Intelligence Agency. The last five of those ten years he’s been stationed in Charlottesville. He’s been married once but divorced with no children. He must’ve been involved with numerous black ops because the portions of his personnel file that reference assignments are mostly redacted.”
“Who does he report to?” the lieutenant asked.
“That’s a good question. The published organization charts are so convoluted, it’s hard to say for sure who’s pulling his strings. He has a local dotted line reporting relationship to JUIAF Commander Smithers, but I think that’s mostly a formality. Ultimately, he gets his direction from the office of the Deputy Secretary of Defense, but who knows how far up the chain we’d have to go before we found the person who’s driving Project Typhon.”
“I’m sure the Deputy Secretary of Defense would want plausible deniability about any operation involving psychological warfare using frequency mind control weapons against US citizens,” the lieutenant said.
“That’s true, but the project may be important enough for him to be briefed on it.”
“Did you confirm who’s on the task force?”
“I grabbed this from Warren’s PC.” Dr. Bit displayed a chart with the names and titles of the task force members:
PROJECT TYPHON TASK FORCE
- DIA Special Agent John Warren, Leader
- FBI Agent Jeremy Glover
- CIA Analyst Todd Andrews
- NSA (SCS) Cyber Analyst Blaire Saunders
- NSA (Internal) Cyber Analyst Karen Williams
“It’s a regular spook salad,” the lieutenant said. “You’ve got the DIA, CIA, NSA, and FBI involved. But, you’re going to need to update your chart.”
“Who’s missing?”
“Nobody’s missing. The FBI agent you have listed was assassinated today.”
“Your would-be boyfriend was killed?”
Lieutenant Mad punched Dr. Bit in the arm, like a middle school girl would do if she were being teased by a classmate about having a crush on a boy. “I have no romantic interest in anyone. The FBI agent I’ve had coffee with is Quinton Target, not Jeremy Glover.”
Dr. Bit rubbed his skinny arm. “Alright, don’t go postal, I was kidding. You said this morning you hacked the FBI agent’s girlfriend’s computer and since she’s on the task force, I assumed he was, too.”
“Well, he isn’t. Did you find anything of significance in the personnel folders of the other members?”
“The CIA and NSA internal analysts are cookie-cutter, government geeks recruited straight out of college. They’re smart, ranked high in their classes. Williams graduated from Stanford and Andrews graduated from MIT.”
“What about Blaire Saunders?”
“She was born in Atlanta Georgia with a silver spoon in her mouth. She attended private schools, was a cheerleader in high school, and a debutante. But, I have to give her credit, she graduated in the top one percent of her class at Georgia Tech. Your romance rival’s no dumb blonde, she has a brain.”
The lieutenant looked at him as though she were going to hit him again. He cringed, preparing for another blow, which didn’t come.
“How long has she been with the NSA?”
“Seven years. She started as an internal analyst, but was recently promoted to SCS, which means she’s allowed to break into peoples’ homes and install bugs.”
“Is that her role on Project Typhon, or don’t you know?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. I came across a video that confirms it.”
“What kind of video?”
“You and I can talk about it after L. Ron and Rasputin give you an update on what they’ve found so far.”
“OK.”
“L. Ron, tell Lieutenant Mad what you’ve learned about the Upshaw Corporation and the Typhon project.”
“You’ve got to love the creativity of the intelligence organizations in coming up with names for their black ops,” L. Ron said. “Typhon was a mythical god with a hundred heads and red eyes like lasers. It’s a perfect name for the operation.”
L. Ron displayed side by side photos on one of the wall screens. “The one on the left is Typhon and the one on the right is Anne Bailey Upshaw, the CEO and founder of Upshaw Corporation.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about a mythical creature with laser eyes. Tell me about Anne Upshaw,” the lieutenant said.
“Fine. She’s one of the most famous entrepreneurs in the world. Her company is the leader in laser technology with products that include laser weapons, surgical devices, and scientific applications.”
“What scientific applications?” the lieutenant asked.
“The really cool stuff that you don’t hear much about. Things like rotating laser time machines, laser-powered spacecraft, desktop-sized laser atom smashers for studying subatomic particles, and laser communication devices like the one used to communicate with beings on the moon."
“Why would we want to send laser beams to the moon?”
“The Apollo moon mission left mirrors on the surface, which scientists have used to bounce laser beams off from to calculate the distance.”
“I don’t know why you’d need to do that more than once.”
“You wouldn’t. I’m just telling you that, so you know there are already documented cases of reaching the moon with laser beams. Lasers can also be used to send messages or videos. There are alien bases on the dark side of the moon. The government is probably usin
g lasers to send messages to a satellite which then forwards them to the alien bases on the dark side.”
The lieutenant and Dr. Bit looked at each other and smiled. L. Ron noticed and said, “You can dis me all you want. I’ll have the last laugh when the aliens are revealed to everyone.”
“All of that laser technology stuff is very interesting,” Lieutenant Mad said, “but have you found anything that explains why the government would want to use frequency mind control on Anne Upshaw?”
“From what I found on Special Agent Warren’s PC, the stated reason for spying on Upshaw Corporation is suspicions that laser weapons or secrets about the technology are being sold to the Chinese,” Dr. Bit said. “But, there’s nothing I could find that indicated why the government wants to use mind control on the CEO of the company. The only reference to the use of frequency control devices is in Blaire Saunders’ notes, which you told me about. It might not be an officially approved tactic. I think it’s likely that some rogue agency is taking advantage of the situation for their own purposes.”
“Why would a government agency, rogue or legit, want to brainwash her?” Lieutenant Mad asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll bet there’s more to this than simple espionage for financial gain by Upshaw. The CEO is already a multi-billionaire. Why would she risk it all for a few more millions or billions selling secrets to the Chinese? There’s a hidden agenda being driven by somebody in the government. I’ll keep looking until I find it.”
“In the meantime,” Lieutenant Mad said, “now that I know who the mind control target is, I need to figure out a way to warn her.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Dr. Bit said. “What if the intelligence agencies are right and she is selling secrets to the Chinese. You could be charged with espionage along with her, if you get involved.”
“If the spooks track me down, I’m toast anyway. They don’t need a bogus espionage charge to hold me. I know getting involved increases my chances of getting found, but I’m not going to sit by and allow a US citizen to be subjugated by frequency weapons. It isn’t right, no matter what the person has done.”
