Death of Secrets (13 page)

Carlos nodded. "Yes, as I said we're pretty sure that's
correct. But you could be lying, couldn't you, John?"

"You want a liar, look at him," John retorted,
nodding at the other man. He simply stared at John and made no reply.

Carlos smiled. "Ah, but no one knows that we've kept a few
of our own facts private, just like we don't know for sure that you're telling
the truth. But the difference is, we
need
to know for sure whether
you're lying, but no one else needs to know the one or two incidental little
facts we keep to ourselves."

John set his jaw. He knew what was coming, and he also knew,
from flexing his arms and feeling the rope around them, that there was nothing
he could do about it. All he could hope for was to give them as little
satisfaction as possible. He resolved not to scream.

"I have an associate," Carlos said, "who is an
expert at making certain men tell the truth. A former corpsman in the Navy,
he's quite well trained in the application of certain sedatives and
anesthetics. It's pretty well known, John, that when a man's doped up enough,
his brain doesn't retain enough functionality to lie. Of course," he
stopped and shrugged, "it's always uncertain just how much brain
functionality the drug will leave behind at all. If you're pleasant enough,
perhaps we'll simply kill you afterwards, so you won't have to find out for
yourself whether you're brain damaged."

John's wrists were securely fastened, so he couldn't move his
hands. But he could still move his fingers. He pulled three of them back to
meet the palm of his hand, until he was giving Carlos the bird.

His tormentor laughed. "I've always respected
spirit," he said.

The other man grunted. "I don't want to just stand around
while we wait for your man to show up," he said. "Call me when you
know."

Carlos nodded, and turned to watch the man leave through the
room's lone metal door. John tried one last time to think if he'd ever heard
the man's name. Kathy would know. Or Mike.

Carlos turned back to John when the man was gone. "There's
not much point in guarding you," he said. "I tied those myself, and
I'm quite sure you won't get out. But to be honest, I've got a bit of a
grudge," he said.

"Oh, yes, I have my petty side. Life can't all be about
grandiose schemes and intricate plans. One has to nourish one's baser instincts
as well. And to be honest, you've caused me a lot of pain!"

John paid too much attention to his words, thinking the man
might actually be talking to him instead of just making random noise. So he
wasn't prepared at all when the lightning right hook caught him in the jaw.

Pain shot through him like a hot poker, and he saw the
proverbial stars before his eyes. Before he'd even thought through the fact
that he'd been punched, the fist landed again. And again. And the other fist
too. The man's right hit him so hard his chair fell over on its side, whacking
John's head against the solid cement floor.

Once he was down on the ground, feet replaced fists. Had he
been free to move at all, he would have doubled over in pain as the first kick
landed on his stomach. But he couldn't – couldn't move at all. With each
successive blow his muscles strained harder at the bonds, trying just to move
to the impacted area, to protect it further, driven only by instinct. But the
result never varied – just rope burns, to add insult to the much greater
injuries.

Each successive explosion of pain washed over John's mind,
driving out thoughts and plans, replacing them with brilliant flashes of
unshaped color and spikes of electric agony. Mercifully, he passed out.

***

Much too early for the college girls' taste, Mike called their
room. Colleen, sleeping closest to the phone, picked it up and slurred out,
"Hello?"

"G'morning. You two want breakfast?"

"Ugh. Don't you have to go raise taxes or something?"

Michael laughed. "Not today. Congress doesn't usually meet
on Saturdays. Lots of the Members like to fly home to their districts for the
weekend."

"It's way too early for a civics lesson. Meet us at the
cafe in an hour."

Colleen looked at the clock, woke her roommate, and headed for
the shower. When both she and Kathy were cleaned up they were already five
minutes late for breakfast, so they rushed out the door and down the elevator.
They found Mike sitting on a bench and checking his watch.

Once they finished breakfast, they returned to Kathy and
Colleen's room. Colleen sat down at the laptop and started it up. "OK, I
thought about it last night, and I think I've got a way to lure him back,"
she said.

When the Congressman and her roommate sat down and looked at
her eagerly, she said, "Just watch," and got to work.

Colleen returned to the IRC chat room from the night before. At
each of them, she waited until she had a large enough group listening, then
typed, "If anyone hears from Jakarta, please tell him I want to hire him to
hack into IRS records."

When Mike saw that he laughed. "Are you crazy?" he
asked. "That sounds so much like a setup it's not even funny!"

"Which is exactly the plan," Colleen countered.
"I offered to pay him to commit a crime. No cop would do that."

"What do you mean," Kathy asked. "Sounds like a
perfect way to trap a crook, seems like cops would do that all the time."

Michael answered for Colleen. "Well, I’m no expert, but
according to the cop shows on TV, it's called entrapment. If a defendant can
prove that the police talked him into committing the crime of which he's
accused, he usually gets off. If this guy is as savvy as he seems to be, he'll
know that's too stupid to come from the feds."

Kathy shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. Just don't
wander away this time, Colleen."

The waiting started out being exciting, but quickly became
tedious. Before too long, Michael was up and pacing while Colleen played
solitaire on the computer. Then he and Kathy both tried to take a nap. The
waiting went on and on, and before long everyone but Colleen had completely
exhausted the very limited number of ways to pass time while staying a hotel
room.

Morning became afternoon, which blurred into evening and then
night. Mike and Kathy couldn’t even alleviate their boredom with conversation,
since all the things they needed to discuss required privacy, and they didn’t
want to leave the room in case Colleen came up with something.

Eventually Kathy fell asleep in the middle of a long-winded
soliloquy from Mike about the realities of American politics. Looking over at
her sleeping form, the Congressman smiled and just watched for a few minutes,
thinking how beautiful she was with her eyes closed. But as soon as that
thought hit him, he realized how heavy his own eyelids felt. Bidding farewell
to Colleen, he left for the separate room, and went to sleep.

Sunday morning he knocked on the girls’ door, bearing more fast
food for breakfast, to find that Colleen was already awake.

"Have you slept at all?"

"A few winks with my head on the desk, but not much. I’m
too keyed up," she replied.

Kathy woke up at the smell of coffee, and promptly wolfed down
her food and half of Mike’s. While she was in the shower, Mike sat on the bed
and peered over Colleen's shoulder as she played solitaire, waiting for Jakarta
to respond to her message.

"Put the red four on the black five," Mike counseled,
turning to watch Kathy emerge from the bathroom.

"I know, I know," Colleen muttered.

When Kathy was dressed, Mike stood up from the bed and ran his
fingers through his hair. "Look," he began. "This waiting is
driving me nuts. Colleen has to be here because she speaks this guy's language,
but we don't all have to stay, right?"

"Do you think it's safe for us to split up?" Kathy
asked. In truth she was going a little stir crazy herself, but had kept quiet
for that very reason.

"As long as we're careful, we'll be fine," he
replied. "Colleen went out last night, remember, and nothing
happened."

Both girls acknowledged the sense of that, and Mike continued,
"Right. I just need some outside air. I’m gonna step out for a walk down
to that coffee shop we tried earlier. Kathy, wanna come with me?"

Kathy looked at her roommate. Colleen was torn between
annoyance at being the one who had to stay here alone and anticipation of
meeting the greatest hacker in a decade. She just nodded at Kathy and waved
dismissively.

***

Tilman walked into his Director of Security's office
unannounced. He didn’t like to work on weekends, but so much was coming to a
head right now that he didn’t feel he had a choice.

This office was a smaller twin of his own space, with all the
trimmings of power. The windows looked out over the wooded Virginia landscape,
where the sun had climbed up toward noon. It did lack the immense video screen
on the wall, but Tilman didn’t want just anyone in the building to have one of
those. Some perks were his and his alone. He found the man at his wet bar and
walked up behind him. He was washing his hands.

"What have you learned," D.W. asked him.

"The contractor's coming in in a couple hours,"
Carlos responded. "We’ll know for sure then."

"I don’t like bringing another outsider in."

"Can’t be helped. I simply don’t have the expertise that
will guarantee that we get the truth. And an uncertain answer isn’t any better
than no answer, is it? He’ll never know where we brought him, your name, or
anything like that. If you want, he can end up like Krupotnik, Jackson, and
Dugan."

"You decide whether it’s necessary. At this stage I
suppose I don’t have any choice but to trust you. I’m nervous, though.
The
Post
has a story today about Dugan’s death. This is getting out of hand,
we’re going to lose control."

"It couldn’t be helped. Only people familiar with all the
details will connect the dots about the three GigaStar people dying."

Tilman nodded. "Now we've just got to deal with this
hacking problem, and we're through this little spot of trouble."

"This hacking is more than a little spot of trouble! That
flash drive has been hard to get back!"

"I know, and I’m surprised you’re having so much trouble
with it. It’s just a college kid!"

The head of security glared at him, and Tilman regretted
uttering the criticism. "Luck never lasts forever," was the only
response.

"What about the other people involved?"

The man looked at Tilman darkly. "What do you think?"

Tilman turned away. He didn’t like that – didn’t like it at
all. But the payoff… He turned back. "This is worth it. The NSA's going to
plant one of our little bugs on everybody they want to spy on. It's going to
create opportunities for us beyond anything you've ever dreamed of. And there
are people I need to pay back. People I can point them at."

The security man nodded. "I know that. But don't
underestimate the obstacles. I'd like to get the NSA's help with the hacker.
What else are you so close to Nathan Jacobs for?"

Tilman shook his head. "Are you crazy? No way. The vote’s
too close."

"The top three people on that program are dead!" his
security chief replied. "If you think we’re going to be able to hide that
from them, you're just fooling yourself. If we bring them in ourselves, we can
manage what they think. But if they come in on their own, who knows how deep
they'll dig?"

"If they dig too deep, everything we've done is for
nothing. We're on the cusp of something that will give us both more money and
power than we can ever use, Carlos! I won't lose it now."

"And I'm telling you we're
going
to lose it if we
don't handle the NSA right. They're going to take a look at those deaths, and
conclude that something obviously is going on here. They may start out thinking
it’s foreign espionage, but there’s no guarantee it stops there. They'll come
in, and then the
best
thing you can hope for is problems with that vote
in Congress. You pay me for my expertise. Use it."

Tilman turned away. He gazed out Carlos's office window,
standing still as a statue. Finally he said, "Very well. I'll trust you on
this. You've worked with them before - if you think we can manage the problem
by inviting them in, I'll take your word. But make sure that other issue is
taken care of before we talk to them, Carlos."

***

Kathy and Mike walked to the shop and got coffee to go, then
strolled down the street watching people.

"Can we do this, Kathy? You and I? Can we make something
happen?"

She looked at him, then looked away, then looked back. She
reached over and took his hand. "Tell me about you and God, Michael."

He said "um" a few times. He shrugged. "My
family went to church when I was growing up. They had  me baptized when I
was born. I guess… I don’t know. I don’t think about it as much as I
should."

She took his hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go.
"Sounds a lot like my childhood. But there's so much more to him than
that."

She went silent long enough to draw Mike into eye contact, and
then she said, "If you want to know me, start there."

***

Colleen leaned back in her chair, feet propped up on the little
hotel desk, trying to get as comfortable as the seating allowed. She’d gotten
bored with solitaire and all the other little games that Mike had on his
laptop. She was contemplating downloading a stolen copy of Call of Duty when
from nowhere a little message box swam up on the screen.

 "OK, so you’re too dumb to be with the NSA," it
read. "That doesn’t put me any closer to talking to you."

Colleen spent a few panicked minutes wondering where the
message had come from. Unlike Mike and Kathy, she knew enough about computers
to be worried when a message box came out of nowhere. It meant software was
running that she didn’t know about, and that was dangerous. But just before she
hit the power button to regain control of the computer, she remembered what she
was here for.