Borne Darkly

by Lee Perry

  While she waited for the diagnostic to complete, she opened her email and scanned the new arrivals in her inbox. In the first email she saw the word Ghost in the subject line and clicked it open,

  “Foreknowledge cannot be gotten from ghosts and spirits, cannot be had by analogy, cannot be found out by calculation. It must be obtained from people, people who know the conditions of the enemy.”

  Her brow furrowed as long fingers flew over the keyboard. That’s Sun Tzu… She opened the full header of the message and stared intently at the digital signature when a knock on her door made her jump, “Yes?’ she glanced at the door, “Come in…”

  Marc popped his head in the door, “Hey, Alex,” he greeted her, “don’t wanna bother you…”

  “It’s okay…” she waved him in.

  He stepped inside, pushing the door open all the way, “I got this email and my phone locked up on me…” He waved it helplessly as he crossed the room and handed it to her.

  The furrows on her brow deepened when she looked at the screen and saw another quotation from The Art of War,

  “Appear where they cannot go, head for where they least expect you. To travel hundreds of miles without fatigue, go over land where there are no people.”

  “I know it’s about your program and shit, but it’s too highbrow for me,” he shrugged, “and now my phone’s stuck on this one screen…”

  Her hands started to tremble slightly when she glanced at the sender information and saw her name on the screen. “Uh… let me see...” She handed his phone back to him and opened a new browser. “I’m not sure yet but it looks like either you or I got our account hacked…”

  “You?’ he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Oh yes,” she grinned crookedly, “even IT people can get hacked… That’s why I am constantly tweaking and updating the security protocols…” She squinted at the screen. She accessed his email account and the full header on the infected email. “Joey’s notorious for visiting porn sites loaded with virus and spyware… I probably picked up something from his tablet when I…” She stared at the digital signature on Marc’s email and toggled the screen back to her own email, finally noticing her name was in both the To and From fields. She quickly clicked up her sent folder, Oh, my sweet fucking god… She stared at the five emails in her sent folder, all sent from her to herself, Marc, Stephen, Louis and Anthony. Struggling to affect an outward calm she hardly felt, she turned to him,

  “The quotation is just a little wisdom from Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War; it’s a very famous, ancient book about how to be successful in warfare… and business, someone’s idea of a hilarious joke, I guess…” she shrugged, “Hang on to your phone and I’ll fix it remotely... Wait an hour then take out the battery, count to ten then put it back in and it should boot up,” She smiled brightly at him, “Okay?”

  “Great,” he grinned back, “thanks Alex, I appreciate it.”

  He left, closing the door behind him and she quickly clicked open the email she “sent” to Louis. Shit, I can’t believe someone hacked my account and now everyone in my sent folder got some crazy fucking… Sweat began to bead on her upper lip as she read,

  “The superior militarist strikes while schemes are being laid. When the opponent is just beginning to plan its strategy, it is easy to strike.”

  Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, I loved that book in college… she thought, and opened the email sent from her account to Stephen:

  "In ancient times skillful warriors first made themselves invincible, and then watched for vulnerability in their opponents."

  Distantly, she felt herself begin to perspire from beneath her hairline all the way down to her feet inside her athletic shoes Oh fuck… Her hand trembled on the external mouse when she clicked opened the final email, sent to Anthony:

  “There are five kinds of fire attacks: One, burning personnel; two, burning provisions; three, burning equipment; four, burning stores; five, burning weapons.”

  With shaking fingers, she accessed the digital signatures on all five infected emails and stared hard at the screen, This is probably code designed specifically to shut down the devices they’re opened with… Her eyes opened wide in horror, ANTHONY!

  She ran down the two flights of stairs to Anthony’s office, raising her hand to knock on the already open door. Leaning in, she saw him at his desk,

  “Hey, Alex…” he waved her in, “Perfect timing, I was checking my emails…” he gestured frustratedly at his laptop, “I’ve read this fucking thing you sent me fifty fucking times…” He sounded annoyed, “what the fuck are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’m so sorry…” she stepped into the room, nervously wringing her hands, “It appears Joey picked up a rather nasty Trojan virus on his tablet,” she lied, “and now all of our devices are infected…”

  “Fuck!” Anthony slammed his hands on his desk, “That fucking asshole! Him and his fuckin’ porn!” He gestured helplessly at his laptop, “And now this thing is fuckin’ frozen or something…”

  “I just discovered it myself…” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder, “I’m working on it… I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

  He waved her off, “That’s okay… I can’t believe we’re so dependent on these fuckin’ things… It’s not a car for chrissakes.” He snorted and waved again, “Go... work... I got some calls to make anyway.”

  The address for the warehouse turned out to be a sea of warehouses, and Catherine was grateful Alex made a note of the warehouse number in her notes. She was even more grateful when she realized it was located along the street at the entrance. I wonder what the odds are that she picked that one simply for ease of access.

  She parked on the street alongside Alex’s warehouse, grateful for the privacy the large building provided from the entrance and parking lot inside. She unlocked and opened her gun case on the floor of the passenger seat, quickly loading one of the magazines and slid it into the gun’s handle like Tommy trained her, feeling it click into place. Okay… she thought resolutely, pulling back the slide and chambering a round, this is ready. She slid the paddle holster onto the waistband of her jeans and slid the semiautomatic into it. Pulling her coat over it, she decided hanging her hand in the large pocket of her barn coat should disguise the bulge and she got out of the rental car and locked the door.

  As she walked to the entrance, a large delivery truck made the wide turn from the street into the driveway and came to a stop. Her head cocked to one side as she approached the edge of the building, Oh jeez, they have security… A security guard exited a small guard shack at the entrance and approached the truck. She continued walking down the sidewalk, watching surreptitiously as the guard took the driver’s ID, comparing it to a list on his clipboard while a second guard looked on. Okay… she harrumphed silently, so I’ll won’t be able to simply walk in… She walked past the driveway and scanned the older warehouse across the parking lot from Alex’s warehouse, They cheaped out on the fencing here… As she walked alongside the wooden structure, she noted how the cyclone fencing didn’t encircle the property in one long fence-line, but stopped and started at the corners of the warehouses. She noted the gap between the end of the fence and the rear corner of the older warehouse; I could fit through there… she decided and taking a quick surreptitious look behind her, squeezed herself between the cyclone fence post and the corner of the aged building.

  Once inside the fence and behind the structure, she noticed this warehouse was smaller and made of aging wood siding; Good thing, she thought as she pulled experimentally at the buckled slats and panels, damaged by the elements, Alex’s warehouse is all shiny aluminum siding, I’d never have gotten in there. She pulled experimentally at one buckled panel and it pulled away from the frame it was nailed into at the bottom. She glanced nervously around her then yanked at the panel again. It pulled further from the frame and she quickly knelt on the ground and crawled inside. They should have at least replaced the rusty nails
… she thought distractedly as she pulled herself into the darkened structure.

  She was wedged behind a shelf packed high with crates and easing around it, found herself standing at the end of an aisle flanked by eight foot high metal racks of shelves. Dim light filtered though the wide gaps between the warehouse’s warped exterior panels, Shrinkage over the years… from weathering… She walked slowly toward the closed roll down door, letting her eyes adjust and increasingly confident she was the only two-legged being inside a warehouse packed with cardboard boxes and wooden crates and little else.

  There was a standard door next to the metal roll down door and a dirty window between them and she peered through it, taking care not to stand too close to the glass. The delivery truck was gone and she watched the security guards walking back and forth in front of the guard shack, looking bored.

  Okay, so... I don’t see any surveillance cameras, but if I want to walk in past those two I’ll need a distraction… Her hands on her hips, she turned to take a closer look at her surroundings. Walking down the center aisle, she began paying attention to what was packed in the stacked wooden crates; Champagne… her eyebrows arched, oh my… scotch. She walked on, Cuban cigars… The lid on the wooden crate had been pried off and she looked inside, with ornately embossed boxes of wooden matches too… very fancy. I guess I could safely assume this belongs to… She picked up the lid and looked at the recipient name: Louis Carna. She smiled sardonically, Ah… Mister Rossi…

  She began looking at the contents of the crates and boxes with more interest, bypassing the seemingly endless boxes of computer components and dozens of metal boxes of ammunition stolen from the military and stopped abruptly at a long wooden crate filled with AR-15 assault rifles. Her face fell and she turned away, clamping a hand over her mouth. Easy… she cautioned, easy now. When she opened her eyes again it took her a moment to realize the crate she was looking at was marked, TNT/dynamite. Her hand dropped away and she scanned the labels on the boxes on the shelf above, Detonators… she read silently, blasting caps… and fuse cord… She pulled back the flaps on the open cardboard box and lifted an unfolded instruction sheet left on top of the contents:

  Blasting caps (slender silver cylinders), she read, Fuse cord (blue and yellow)… Blast caps with a simple delay mechanisms... I just love Chinese-English, she thought distractedly and continued reading; Time explosions with measuring the length of the cord… Oh my… she thought nervously, how charmingly Old School.

  Stewart drove behind the armored SWAT units and Jordan looked out the window as they rapidly drove past immense elegantly manicured lawns that framed equally enormous mansions on the rural roads of Darien, Connecticut. She knew they were getting close to the Rossi compound and she quickly tapped the lighthouse icon on her phone, “Where are you?” she typed and tapped the send key.

  It’s time… Catherine pulled out her phone and tapped open her custom icon labeled Phase 2. She tapped it again; activating a program she created to send a series of Instant Messages to her soon to be ex-wife. She tucked her phone back into her jacket pocket and lit the fuse cord with the wooden cigar matches. She quickly left the small warehouse the way she came and walked back to the car, taking refuge alongside Alex’s warehouse, hoping with her soul that the security guards were smart enough to run with the initial explosion. Her phone vibrated and when she pulled it from her pocket, the lighthouse icon filled her screen, “Jordan has a message for you,”

  “Where are you?”

  “Close,” she typed rapidly, “I’m creating a diversion for you.” Just as she tapped the send key, the warehouse exploded. She ducked unnecessarily and stuffing her phone back in her jacket pocket, peered around the corner. The security guards had scattered and Catherine’s eyes widened at the conflagration and pandemonium she had created. I guess there was a lot more in the way of explosives and ammunition in there than I thought. Ducking her head, she walked quickly through the entrance and into Alex’s warehouse, hunching against the continuing explosions and heat from the three-story high flames. Once inside, it was clear where the computer room was and she headed for the metal stairs leading to a glass-enclosed loft.

  Jordan stared uncomprehendingly at the message on her phone, “WHAT?” she blurted and speed dialed Assistant Director McNamara, “Bea!” she shouted when her friend answered, “I need you to ping Catherine Bernard’s phone. When you locate her, send Darien PD to take her into protective custody…” She caught Stewart giving her a look and she added, “Tell them she’s in Witness Protection and it’s for her own safety.”

  Sweat ran freely down Alex’s face and back of her neck and she blinked rapidly, swiping it from her stinging eyes with the back of her hand. So who the fuck ever hacked my account used it to send virus-loaded emails… The sweat had completely soaked her polo shirt and she stared in a confused panic at the screen, It was designed to freeze their devices… but not mine… why?

  An instant message suddenly appeared in the center of her screen: “Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them. - Marcus Aurelius”

  What the fuck! She tried to click the header open but the message digitally dissolved and another appeared,

  “I loved you, and you betrayed me.”

  All the color drained from Alex’s face and her vision darkened dangerously at the edges when the second message digitally dissolved and was replaced by another:

  “I’m in your warehouse, Alex.”

  Her vision narrowed on the words, her face a mask of horror; No-no-no-no-no-no! She gasped raggedly, wringing her hands, It’s not possible! She felt the room tilt sickeningly and she gripped the table’s edge, Anthony… Anthony can’t know, he can’t find out! She frantically shoved damp hair from her face; Okay… okay, just wait… He’s in his office… right? Shaking violently, she leapt from the chair and left her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. He’s mafia… he’ll have a gun next to his bed… She strode down the hall and opening his door, slipped into the room. Completely ignoring her surroundings, she strode purposefully to the nightstand and jerked open the top drawer. Her shaking hand hovered briefly over the array of handguns stuffed inside, hesitating a moment before she grabbed the largest revolver, wrapping it clumsily in a t-shirt left on the bed and shoved the heavy drawer closed.

  She walked calmly down the stairs, hearing workout equipment being used when she reached the second floor landing and continued down to the ground floor, grateful for the silent, thick carpeting. She could hear Rose and Marc chatting amiably at the kitchen table and she quickly slipped past the open doorway, acutely aware that only person who saw her pass was Cameron, seated in his high chair. She blinked her eyes rapidly, willing the image away, Stop it with the big fucking eyes! she thought scornfully and hurried to the garage. The doors were open, and she walked past the first five vehicles, heading for the minivan Marc always used to drive her to the warehouse. She knew the keys were in the ignition and she climbed inside, started the engine and backed out of the garage.

  She inserted her 256GB flash drive into the simple workstation and watched the monitor as her specially designed software smoothly took over Alex’s mainframe. Catherine had designed it to quickly hack in and flood the servers with a sweeping invasive program that easily penetrated the multiple firewalls that began and ended at the routers between the public network (the Internet) and Alex’s private network. The worm she created automatically disabled all of Alex’s security applications and tools and she stood quietly, her hands resting on the back of the swivel chair as she imagined Alex sitting in the chair, installing software. You didn’t write all this code by yourself, did you, Alex? she thought, a soft, exasperated sigh escaping her, You just pirated it all from software I wrote…

  She looked nervously over her shoulder at the door, listening to the wail of approaching sirens and jumped when she heard more explosions coming from the small warehouse. Face it, she jumped again as the explosions continued, no one’s comin
g in here with all that ammunition blowing up over there. She turned back to the monitor and watched as data flooded the screen, her eyes narrowing as she followed the streams of data; every byte was being copied and compressed into manageable, albeit massive packets, Okay… it’s going to take a while but it’ll start sending the data to Jordan’s Cyber Division any minute now.

  She slid out of her barn coat, draping it over the back of the chair and adjusted the gun on her hip. Maybe Alex and those thugs won’t be able to get through all that chaos out there… The workstation beeped and she turned to see her final program initiate. She designed it to disable all of Alex’s servers, effectively freezing them and permanently disabling the scrubber programs so nothing could be erased from the hard drives. Just get Cameron, Jordan… she prayed, and then we can finally go home together. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and tapped the lighthouse icon, typing, “Jordan, tell your cyber division to get ready for a lot of data.”

  They were rapidly approaching Rossi’s back door and Stewart called loudly on his radio, “Alright! We’re here so let’s enter as quickly and as quietly as we can people! We’re looking to extract a two year-old before we start shooting any bad guys!”

  He hit the brake and as soon as they skidded to a halt both he and Jordan bolted from the car and ran after the assault ream, drawing their weapons as they headed for the back door. Adrenalin flooded her bloodstream and she never felt her phone vibrate with Catherine’s text message in her jacket pocket.

  New York, NY

  Assistant Director McNamara sat very still, looking at the ping locator that pulsed and glowed on her screen, Well, Catherine Bernard… she thought, there you are. She looked worriedly at the alert that also appeared at the same location and clicked it open, distressed to see a warehouse fire had been reported at that location and several fire units were on scene. She had called the Darien Police Department and informed the chief to have her responding officers be on the lookout for Catherine Bernard, relaying Jordan’s instructions to take her into protective custody as a witness in the program.