Dead in a Week

by Andrea Kane

  Unaware of her brief scrutiny, Blockman glanced around the room and then turned his attention on Simone as she rose and extended her hand.

  “Mr. Blockman?”

  He nodded, meeting her handshake. His smile was genuine. So were the dots of perspiration on his brow.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Martin,” he said.

  “It’s Simone—and it’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.” She gestured toward the sideboard. “Grab a cup of coffee and help yourself to some fruit. It’s early. If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably skipped breakfast.”

  “It’s Lawrence. And I always seem to, yes.” Looking at the table, he ascertained that Simone had her own coffee and fruit, just to assure himself of the protocol. Confirming that she had both, he went over, made himself a cup of coffee, and put some fruit on his plate, after which he settled himself in the chair adjacent to Simone’s.

  A healthy mound of sliced pineapple and cantaloupe covered his plate, Simone noted. Not the sign of a quaking employee.

  She set up her iPad and began.

  “I’m sure you’re aware that I’m working with Vance Pennington to increase efficiency in his department.”

  “I’d heard, yes,” Blockman replied. “I’m just not sure how I can be of any help in that process.”

  “I asked Vance to set up meetings with all the corporate VPs so that I could get a feel for what they do and how they interact with both Vance and the manufacturing department.” Simone’s delicate brows drew together. “I hope you don’t mind. I won’t take much of your time.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Blockman swallowed some coffee. He looked a little tense but not alarmed. “Fire away.”

  Simone nodded, her fingers poised on the keypad. “For starters, who are your key customers and what do you do for them?”

  It was an innocuous question, and an easy one for Blockman to answer.

  “One of our prime responsibilities is to develop new product specifications so that manufacturing can produce them. So you’re right, we do work closely with Vance’s department.”

  “And how well do your departments work together? Are there any conflicts that might slow down productivity in the manufacturing area?”

  Blockman shrugged. “There’s always a certain amount of friction. Nothing serious. Sometimes our designs are difficult to manufacture, and manufacturing and engineering battle to compromise. It’s a normal part of our business.”

  “You’re right. It is.” Simone edged a quick glance at him and then bluntly asked, “What about you and Vance? How do you two get along?”

  Okay, now Blockman looked nervous and more than a little taken aback.

  “That’s an odd question.”

  “I’m just trying to establish if there are any potential interactions that could negatively impact the productivity of Vance’s department. Remember, it’s not your department I’m evaluating—it’s his. I certainly mean no disrespect. So if you’d rather not answer…”

  “I’ll answer,” he replied. “Vance and I respect each other as colleagues. We have for all the years we’ve worked at Nano. We don’t socialize outside of the office, but we work well together. Does that address your concerns?”

  “It does.” Testy, Simone thought. Very testy. “And I appreciate your candor. Now let’s get down to your department itself. How many products do you work on each year?”

  Blockman relaxed. Definitely safer ground.

  He speared a slice of pineapple and ate it before answering. “Three to ten. And sometimes we have revisions to existing products.”

  “Who else at Nano do you provide important services to?”

  “Finance. We provide detailed cost estimates on new products, budgets for our research, product development, and support functions.”

  “Great.” Simone typed that in. “How about people in companies outside of Nano?”

  “I serve as Nano’s representative to SIA,” Blockman supplied, referring to the Semiconductor Industry Association. “That role takes me all over the world.”

  Time for a more personal angle—one that would be telling.

  “So you must travel to Asia, with so many companies having facilities there.”

  Now Blockman looked distinctly uncomfortable. He took another belt of coffee and his response was terser than his others had been. “I’m a million-mile frequent flier many times over. Does that answer your question?”

  Boy, did it ever.

  “It does. And that’s the last of them—except one.” She smiled, simultaneously glancing down at his wrist. “Those are very handsome cufflinks. Just my boyfriend’s taste. May I ask where you got them?”

  “I’m not really sure.” Blockman’s response was stiff. “They were a gift.”

  Not a gift “from my wife,” Simone noted, although her research had told her that he had one. Experience also told her that fashionable jewelry such as the cufflinks were usually purchased by a woman.

  She went with her instincts.

  “I’ll be here at Nano for at least a week. Please ask your wife where she got them. I’d love to get a similar pair for my boyfriend.”

  An odd look crossed his face—discomfort and guilt—much as Simone had expected.

  “I’ll do that.”

  Simone pushed back her chair and rose. “Thank you for your time and forthcoming responses, Lawrence.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His coffee cup was drained, but most of his fruit was untouched. And he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

  Simone made a note to herself to text Terri as soon as she was out of Nano’s eclipsing walls. It was imperative that Terri do an analysis of Blockman’s travel and expense patterns for the past year.

  And Simone knew just what she was asking Terri to look for.

  An affair.

  Simone didn’t give a damn who Blockman was sleeping with.

  Unless it was someone who worked at a Chinese tech company.

  11

  Ritz-Carlton, Lake Tahoe

  27 February

  Tuesday, 8:15 a.m. local time

  Vance paced around his hotel room, checking his watch every thirty seconds. Right before Aidan had left last night, he’d suggested that Vance take his time leaving for Nano this morning.

  Gut instinct and experience made Aidan certain that enough time had passed. The kidnappers wouldn’t wait another twenty-four hours. They’d contact Vance first thing today with their next set of demands. Aidan had assured Vance that he could still follow his routine of heading into the office for a half day. But sleeping in an extra hour—even for a VP—wasn’t unusual during a family vacation.

  Vance had argued that he shouldn’t alter his routine even an iota, that he had his red phone at work for any incoming texts. Aidan had countered with the fact that, at this point, the kidnappers might choose another method of communication—a more tangible one like a package, and that the uber-secure NanoUSA would preclude any form of delivery. Vance had to be physically as well as electronically accessible.

  Ultimately, Vance had gritted his teeth but agreed. To keep up the image that he was, in fact, making himself available to contact from the kidnappers—and that he was doing so without involving anyone else—he’d followed Aidan’s advice and sent Susan out with Jessica and Andrew to have breakfast and hit the ski slopes.

  Now he was losing his mind.

  He was half-tempted to toss Aidan’s advice to the wind and head out to the airport when a short, loud knock sounded at the hotel room door.

  Vance strode over and yanked open the door.

  The hall was deserted. But lying on the carpeted floor was a padded envelope with Vance’s name typed on it.

  Reflexively, he started down the hall to apprehend whomever had left it. Just as abruptly, he stopped. He was wasting time. Whoever had dropped off this package was a pro. He would have gotten in quickly and anonymously and left the same way. More importantly, if Vance stepped out of line and inci
ted the kidnappers, the results could be fatal.

  Amateurish reactions were bullshit. Lauren’s life was all that mattered.

  After retracing his steps, Vance shut his hotel room door and, with shaking hands, tore open the package.

  Inside was a printed page, along with an empty, crumpled crossbody handbag and a Ziploc containing a lock of soft, wavy brown hair.

  Lauren’s handbag. Lauren’s hair.

  Tears gathered in Vance’s eyes as he turned his attention to the letter.

  Time for a show of faith, the words read. We want a sample of the new technology—specifically a drawing showing one page of the specifications. Should you hesitate, please inspect the enclosed personal items that we’ve taken from your daughter so far. She has much left to be taken—including her well-being and her life. Get the data to us via a Tor browser. Type the following link in the address bar: https://mwt4wkynpe3f82ab.onion and log in using the code name baba. You will then be able to send messages and files to a secure drop box that we will be monitoring regularly. Use a public Wi-Fi hotspot. We will be watching every move you make. We expect the file by the end of the business day today and we will acknowledge receipt in a message you’ll find by logging in. Your daughter has four days left…

  Vance’s hand was shaking so badly that he could barely hold the page, much less absorb the details of what he was reading. Sweat dripped down his spine. Almost in a daze, he put all the items back in the envelope, picked up his secure cell phone, and pressed Aidan’s number.

  “Yes?” Aidan’s voice was already on high alert.

  “You were right—it came,” Vance heard himself say. “A package from the kidnappers.” He proceeded to tell Aidan what the contents of the envelope were and then read him the note.

  “This is nothing unexpected, Vance.” Aidan sounded calm, reassuring. “What I need you to do is to get yourself to the Starbucks on Northstar Drive. It’s about ten minutes away. You’ll respond to them from your laptop. You’ll be using Starbucks’ public Wi-Fi, and I’ll talk you through the Tor browser process as soon as you’re settled and ready.”

  “Anonymity. Right.” Vance felt like he was drowning. “The drawing—they expect this to happen instantly.”

  “You’ll buy us a day. They’ll accept that condition, since they’re aware of the high level of security at Nano.”

  Vance swallowed, asking the same question he’d asked Aidan a dozen times already. “What I’m demanding of them in return—the daily video communications with Lauren—what if they say no? Worse, what if they take it out on her?”

  “They won’t. Just take me at my word.”

  “You still haven’t told me how we’re going to get a copy of the specifications out of Nano and into the kidnappers’ hands.”

  “It’s being handled. We’ll have the tool we need in place and ready to implement within hours. It will be delivered to me along with a specialized computer I’ll need you to use in your talks with Lauren.”

  Vance’s panic was inciting a barrage of questions. “I thought this whole Deep Web thing makes it impossible to trace?”

  “In most situations, that’s true. But the special computer we’re providing you with is enhanced in ways that will allow us to monitor your activity and also penetrate some of the anonymous layers of the Deep Web without raising red flags. In short, we have the tools and skills of the NSA. The kidnappers have no clue who they’re dealing with.”

  “How—”

  “We’re losing precious time.” Aidan cut off Vance’s next question. “Explanations on how you’re going to accomplish what they’re asking can wait until I fly up to Tahoe tonight. Right now we need to worry about contacting the kidnappers and orchestrating your first videoconference with Lauren. So grab a taxi and get to Starbucks. Call me when you’re in front of a computer.”

  * * *

  Aidan disconnected the call and pressed Terri’s number.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s me,” Aidan replied.

  “One sec.” She said a muffled “Make it ten” into what was obviously another phone call and then ended it. “Sorry,” she said to Aidan.

  “Was that Ryan?”

  “He’s on his way here with his gizmo.”

  “Good.” Aidan gave Terri a three-sentence update on where things stood at his end. “Did the two of you program the computer?”

  “It’s done,” she replied. “Ryan did most of the work. He really is quite brilliant. He prepared the laptop specifically for Vance’s needs. He started with a standard HP laptop and then replaced the entire operating system with a highly secure and customized version of Linux. The user—in this case Vance—will be presented with a Windows login, but behind the scenes, every keystroke will be logged and forwarded to me. All audio and video signals will be mirrored and streamed to the Zermatt servers.”

  “So for all intents and purposes our team will be watching everything Vance does with that laptop in real time. He can concentrate on his communications with the kidnappers and we can pick up on any pertinent data he might miss. We’ll get all content, body language, visual surroundings, nearby voices—the works. If there are any clues to lead us to Lauren, we’ll get them.”

  “Precisely. Our courier service will be arriving here right on Ryan’s heels. I’ll have everything airborne within two hours—including a few other electronic items for you that might come in handy at some point.”

  Aidan made a quick mental calculation. “That means the package will arrive here after we’ve held our team videoconference, I’m guessing around midnight. Have it delivered to my room at the Tahoe Ritz-Carlton. I’ll be there, tutoring Vance and keeping all the Penningtons in check. I’ll break for the team meeting. Once the package arrives, I’ll talk to Vance alone—no wife, no kids. I’ll give him a bare-bones explanation of the computer. Immediately thereafter, I’ll hop on our plane and get back to the Four Seasons so I can pass along the ring to Simone.”

  “Simone? But it’s a man’s ring. I thought that Vance…”

  “Change in plans. Just talked to him—Vance is too much of a nervous wreck for me to trust him to successfully pull this off, especially since all eyes are on him. He briefed Simone on where she’ll find what she needs, but she’ll be the one taking those photos. I’m not too thrilled about putting her in that position, but she’ll come through for us.” A pause. “As soon as I’m in Simone’s room, I’ll want an immediate videoconference with Ryan. Simone and I will both require a verbal instruction manual from him on the usage of the ring so that she can get those photos. Tell Ryan to be available.”

  “Already taken care of,” Terri replied. “Ryan will be accessible all night. He knows what’s expected of him.” A pause. “As I said, he’s really good, Aidan. Even I’m impressed. And he was amazed by my Wheel of Fortune app. It’s gratifying to meet someone as young and savvy as Ryan—and someone who actually calls this work fun. I might have been dubious at first, but you were right to bring him on board. He’s a strong asset.”

  Aidan bit back a smile. No surprise that Ryan’s exuberance over Terri’s app had won him major Brownie points. “I know he is. And I’m glad he’s following your lead, since Ryan tends to like running the show.” A quick glance at his watch. “Are we good? Because Vance should be calling me back any minute.”

  “We’re good.”

  Starbucks

  Northstar Drive, Lake Tahoe

  27 February

  Tuesday, 8:55 a.m. local time

  Vance was a complete wreck when he called Aidan back. Discussing a procedure like this and actually carrying it out—with your child’s life on the line—were two different things entirely.

  “I hope you got yourself something to drink,” Aidan began, hearing the familiar Starbucks sounds of complex beverages being ordered and customers arguing over who was first in the queue. “You have to look like everyone else. The Starbucks manager won’t take kindly to freeloading their Wi-Fi with no purchase made. Not during pri
me breakfast hours.”

  “I got decaf,” Vance replied. “I despise the stuff, but I don’t need caffeine to rev me up even more.”

  “Smart.” Aidan didn’t waste time with small talk. He quickly and succinctly talked Vance through getting to where he needed to be using the Tor browser. Vance followed his instructions to a tee, which made the process go as painlessly as possible.

  “Okay, I’m looking at a blinking cursor,” Vance reported, having logged in and used his requisite password. “Why baba?”

  “It’s the phonetic translation for the Albanian word for father. The powers-that-be probably found it amusing.”

  “Well, I’m not amused. Nor do I know how to phrase this. Based on the note I received, I’m assuming these people speak English.”

  “Fluently. Despite the Albanian password, the communication you received, as well as all future communications, will be sent by whoever intends to steal Nano’s technology, most likely the Chinese. The Albanians are just their muscle. So while the kidnappers’ English may be broken, the head honchos will speak perfect English. No worries there.”

  “Right. No worries.” Vance sucked in his breath. “Tell me what to say—verbatim.”

  Aidan dictated a response in succinct, straightforward terms— explaining the need for an extra day to get the drawing and to find a way to penetrate NanoUSA’s ironclad walls to send it. The only time Aidan added some emotion was when, as Vance, he spoke of the need to see and hear his daughter daily, to ensure himself that she was indeed alive and well.

  “That’s it?” Vance asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “How long will it be before I hear from them?”

  “Given their sense of urgency, I’d hang around Starbucks. You should hear back within an hour. Now read our response back to me.” Aidan listened, nodding as he did. “Good. Post it.”

  “God help me,” Vance murmured and pressed the Enter key.

  * * *

  The reply came forty-five minutes later, and Vance called Aidan back immediately.