Hard Target (20 page)

“Sir, this is Agent Valentine.”

“Valentine. How are we coming along?”

Alex glanced at the faces around her. Günter, arms crossed over his chest, stared at the phone as if he wanted to bite it in half. Simon curled his lip in a sour expression, and Jenny just appeared fascinated.

“Did you know the Picasso is slated to be at a state dinner next week?”

A long pause from the AD said he had known.

“We are aware.” His tone said she was to dig no further than what was common public knowledge.

“And there are protections in place?”

“Why should there be protections in place?”

Disbelief made her gape at the cell. “Because the President of the United States will be there, sir.”

“Have you discovered anything about the painting or the replacement frame that would lead you to believe the Secret Service incapable of protecting the President?” There was a sneer in the man’s question.

Alex bristled. “No sir, but as a matter of—”

“Agent Valentine?”

Alex ground her teeth together. “Yes sir?”

“You do trust your superiors, do you not?”

Hell no!
For the first time in her career she didn’t trust them one bit.

She glanced to the laptop she’d stolen for Simon, then to the cell and lied. “Yes.”

“Then leave the frame be, do exactly what Downing tells you, and stay out of the rest.”

Ire filled her throat, blocking any response she might have made.

“Goodbye, Agent Valentine. Do your job and you’ll get that promotion.” The AD hung up and Alex watched the phone go dark.

“Fuck.” She pressed cool hands to her heated cheeks.

Simon rolled his chair several feet from the table. “Well, I guess that leaves us no choice.”

“Open the frame?” Alex asked.

He nodded, resolute. “Open the frame.”

Günter stood back from the glittering gold fame. “I don’t think we should pry it open.”

Unfortunately, Simon agreed with his partner. “You think it’s booby trapped?”

“Possibly.”

Alex trailed a finger over one beveled edge. “Do you have any fiber optics devices?”

Smoke and sin, desire and damnation. Her voice curled around him, drugging him with narcotic efficiency. Pulling him deep until he couldn’t find the door to his common sense. She’d said she loved him… Then she’d recanted. Simon jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and tried to think about the question she’d just asked.

Günter answered first. “We do, but they might not be thin enough.”

Crouching, Alex peered at a line she’d been examining along the side of the frame. “We might be able to pry this open a tad with a file. Just enough.”

“Jenny? In the pile by the window.” Günter leaned over Alex and peered at the crack she now ran her thumbnail along. “There’s a bundle of wire attached to a scope. Bring it and one of the spare laptops?”

“Sure,” Jenny said.

Simon quirked a smile at her on her return trip and she beamed at him, so happy just to be near Günter, and to be involved in his work. If only Gun could see how much she needed to feel needed, their relationship might eventually reach a stage of perfection few could match.

“This what you wanted?” She placed the laptop on a nearby table.

Without looking up, Günter held out his hand and Jenny laid the scope and a loop of wire in his palm. When she began to move away, he curled his index finger and ran it against the inside of her wrist. Pink bloomed along her cheekbones and when she retreated her movements took on the floaty quality of a woman very much in love. It took so little to please her. Why couldn’t Alex be so easy to fathom?

They were like two gears, each with broken teeth. Where once they’d fit together like clockwork, they now seemed forever out of step. Unable to rejoin and form a functioning mechanism. They’d lost so much and he wasn’t certain he could ever forgive her for that. When she’d said she loved him, well that had just been a reminder of all the things he might never have with her again.

“You guys have this?” Simon asked.

Günter grunted and Alex nodded, preoccupied with a tiny metal file and the end of the fiber optics.

“It’ll jam if you aren’t careful.” Gun reached for the file.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” Alex shied away, then grumbled, “Hover much?”

Simon went to his laptop. The laptop the FBI had confiscated from him. A personal device, he’d never used it for more than doing his taxes, checking home email and playing
World of Warcraft
. How the documents they and the CIA had accused him of stealing had ended up on there was a question he’d sought to answer for a long time.

He should be gathering intel on the event security for Downing, but with the puzzle of his past life in front of him he couldn’t focus on anything else. Forehead in his palm, he stared at the keyboard. The logs revealed nothing traceable. While there had been some attempted entries from malicious entities and malware, nothing had gotten through. Six years later the IP addresses attached to them were useless.

“All right?” Jenny’s question, soft and concerned, tore Simon’s attention from the laptop.

He straightened and gave her a halfhearted smile. “Yes. You?”

She dropped into the chair next to him and pulled her knees to her chest. Resting her chin on top she regarded him for a moment. “I’m okay, but you’re lying.”

“It’s…” Simon darted a glance to Alex. “Complicated.”

Jenny nodded at the laptop. “New computer?”

“Old.” Simon tugged the laptop closer and wished he knew what he’d missed. There had to be something. “I’m trying to figure out how some files got on here.”

“What kind of files?” A vee crinkled the delicate skin at the bridge of Jenny’s nose.

“Classified files from non-networked FBI servers.” He pored over the logs once more though he knew he’d see nothing. Find nothing.

“What about fingerprints?” she asked. “If someone put files on there wouldn’t they have left some?”

“No, they…” Simon began to shake his head, intending to tell her about electronic file transfers, then froze. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Jenny dropped her feet to the floor and sat forward.

“You are a genius!”

She laughed. “I’m afraid that title is all yours, but thanks anyway.”

“No.” Simon ran a hand through his hair. “They didn’t remote in. They sneakered the files in!”

“Sneakered?”

“Sneakernet. Versus internet.” A grin so wide it hurt split his face. “When you walk a file to another computer rather than send it digitally.”

Unfolding his glasses, he put them on so he could peer at the log files again. Numbers, dates and time stamps came into focus and he scrolled through them, recalling the events and days leading up to his arrest. The only time his laptop had been unsecured was the night before.

He’d been working on a case involving a Syrian informant and a suspected double agent on his work laptop. He’d finally cracked the man’s password and gained remote access to his computer. He’d made an image of the files they needed and then gone to take a shower. On his way past to the bathroom he’d decided to email Alex an article he’d seen in the online version of the
Times
. For some reason his internet connection had been like molasses and he’d left the laptop unsecured while the email transferred.

Simon looked at her now. Concentration furrowed her brow as she worked with Gun. They’d managed to feed the tip of the optics into the frame, but it had jammed just the way Günter had said it would. With the frame positioned on its other side, she and Günter searched for a better access point for the fiber.

Simon’s gut told him she hadn’t done it—hadn’t been the one to set him up. She’d been at a seminar at Quantico the few days before the weekend, and even if she hadn’t had an alibi, her testimony against him had been so bitter he honestly believed in her anger and disappointment. Remembrance of the day he’d seen her take the stand acted as a blow and he inhaled deep. There were several memories he’d tried to permanently banish—the day his parents died came first, and the accusatory expression on Alex’s face as she’d answered the prosecutor’s questions came second.

“Want me to get the fingerprint powder?” Jenny asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“What?” Simon looked up. The sun had moved to the west, leaving the apartment in shadow. “Lights. On.”

The overheads came up and the table lamp flicked to life, casting the room in a comfortable glow.

“Thanks,” Günter said, then to Alex, “Right there. No. Up an eighth.”

Jenny rummaged in a drawer and Simon remembered she’d asked him about fingerprint powder.

“No, it’s all right, Jen,” he said, taking in the smudges all over laptop’s glossy black surface. “Even if the hacker was stupid and didn’t use gloves, the keyboard and case have been compromised.”

Supplies already in hand, Jenny approached. “Oh.”

Simon blew out a breath and reminded himself, “It’s okay. I know I didn’t do it.”

Bringing both palms to his face, he scrubbed against a day’s growth of beard. If only he could see inside the device and recreate the moment the data had been transferred.

Inside
…

He dropped his hands to the keyboard and opened the CD ROM logs.

“Give me the fingerprint kit.” He snapped his fingers as he held out his hand.

Jenny handed him the kit as he scrolled to the top of the log and found the most recent entry.

“Holy shit.” Stunned disbelief and mirth burbled to Simon’s chest. One emotion elevated the other, culminating in an insane chortle. They’d actually used the CD ROM drive while he’d been showering.

Jenny placed the box in his palm and sat. He took some gloves from the box and snapped them on. With careful, almost reverent motions, he pressed the button to the CD ROM tray. It snicked open and stuck partway, just like he remembered. Taking the tray by the sides, he found the tiny release tab and activated it as he’d had to do on numerous occasions when he’d owned the thing. Except this time he didn’t place his thumb in the tray. With gloves on the maneuver would’ve been close to impossible. Anyone in a hurry might’ve chanced taking off a glove to access the almost hidden area of a laptop. Besides, who would think to dust for prints inside the tray?

Using the powder and tape, he dusted with painstaking care. Several prints lifted and he captured them on the latent fingerprint card Jenny handed to him. Three appeared the same—likely his own. One was a partial. The last, he couldn’t be certain, appeared different.

“How do you know they didn’t find a…what do you call it?” Jenny snapped her fingers as she searched for the term. “You know. A back door? And use that from your computer to download the data from the FBI servers?”

Simon grinned at her use of the hacker term as he marked the fingerprint orientation on the card. “I knew it never came directly from the FBI servers.”

“How?”

“Because they don’t allow remote access to the data they say I stole. It would’ve had to have been transferred via other means.”

“But couldn’t they use the CD and a different computer?”

“Too risky.” Alex spoke up and Simon realized she’d been listening closely. “Not many people have the knowhow or the means to completely secure their digital trail when it’s hot. These guys—whoever did it—apparently didn’t even know how to modify the CD ROM logs to cover their tracks.”

“They didn’t have time.” Missing puzzle pieces that had haunted him for so long snapped neatly into place. “I was in the apartment.”

That broken tray had been his lucky break. He’d always meant to fix it, but for once he found a friend in procrastination.

“Why would they risk getting caught in your apartment?” Alex pressed. “Wouldn’t finding a way to transfer the files electronically have been safer?”

“Now that the trail is cold it’s another matter, but back then?” Simon shrugged, agreeing with Alex. “I might’ve caught them pretty easily electronically. Sneakering was safest, but I don’t think they counted on my being home.”

Standing, Alex brushed off her hands before approaching. Simon swiveled the laptop to face her and showed her the logs. “Why didn’t the FBI see this?”

She bit her lip. “They probably did, and assumed you’d sneakered the data yourself.”

“What the fuck, Alex?” Simon threw his hands into the air and allowed them to fall to his thighs with a slap. “They magically never captured me on video doing all this B&E? I was good enough to ghost into HQ but not good enough to keep from getting caught after the fact?”

“I don’t know, Simon.” Alex straightened and crossed her arms under her breasts. “I only know they asked me whether you’d ever broken into my computer at home and I had to say yes.”

“You did the same to me.” Simon ground the words to powder between his teeth. “I didn’t see you catching a one-way ticket past
Go
.”

“Give me the prints.” Slim fingers curled, Alex held out her hand. “I’ll have Ryan run them through AFIS.”