Terminal Value (20 page)

“What do you mean?”

“And you consider yourself a technologist?” Brandon cackled. “The root directory is like the root of a tree, and all branches stem from it. Get into it, and you can get into anything.”

Dylan felt embarrassed. “Actually, I depended on Tony to do the deep technology stuff. I primarily handle the client accounts.”

“That explains it. A suit!”

Dylan ignored the insult as thoughts began to trip over themselves in his mind. Could he get into the administrative server without being discovered? That would certainly be easier than hacking into Tony's computer. “Say I can hack in,” said Dylan. “What good does it do me, other than instantly getting me fired—or worse—the second I'm discovered? Which I will be, because, as you know, all of those directories are constantly monitored to make sure whoever is accessing them has the correct privileges.”

“That's a piece of cake.”

“For you, maybe.” Dylan eyed him. “If you're willing to come to Mantric and hack into—”

Brandon laughed. “Oh, no—but I can give you a script to run that will allow you to hack in without being identified, and without being observed.”

Excitement surged through Dylan. This guy was good—and could probably do anything. He might even be able to let Dylan have his way with the files for an hour or so. Dylan leaned back in his chair. Could this really work? Could he dig into Mantric and find incriminating evidence? Would he be caught? “I don't know, Brandon.”

“I understand. But I'm going to send you a file—very anonymously, of course—with instructions on how to use it. If you want to, you can.”

“Prometheus giving fire to humanity again? Aren't you afraid of the eagle?”

“Pfft. This is nothing, Mr. Johnson. Anyone with a proper understanding of root directories and sophisticated scripts who thought about it for an hour or two could come up with it.”

Dylan eyed him carefully. Brandon sat wrapped in his stained tweed jacket, his shaggy hair sticking out in all directions. In no way did he look like Dylan had envisioned. He was neither a mythological creature nor a multi-millionaire. And that, Dylan suddenly realized, was the point. This was a man who buried his true identity deep.

“One more thing. I need you to tell me what Tony was working on.” Dylan nodded toward the schematic on the table.

Brandon blinked at him. “Isn't it obvious? It's magical and wonderful at the same time. And it would have changed the world. It's a design for wireless electricity. Imagine a world where you could have all of your electronic devices constantly powered without being plugged in.”

“Jesus! How do you know that?”

“Hah! I double-majored in computer science and electrical engineering in college. It wasn't all about the ones and zeros, you know! Anyway, this baby would sure shake up the mobile computing world, among other things. The ramifications are huge, not just for technology, but for everything in everyday life!” Brandon grabbed the sketch. “See this coil? It has a capacitor that resonates and pulses at alternating currencies. If you bring another device close enough to it, you can get them to couple and transfer magnetic energy between them. So it goes from electricity to magnetic fields and back to electricity.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“That's what everyone says. But it's not a radiative technology. It's just a magnetic field that's basically the same as the earth's magnetic field. And it's converted back into electricity only by the devices, nothing else.”

“Oh my God! So maybe someone did kill Tony for this!”

“Do you really think so, Dylan?” Brandon said with a smirk. “You may find out if you follow my script.”

Dylan's mind was like a beehive of thoughts. What did all of this have to do with the file Tony sent him? Was it about this or Mantric? “I don't know,” he muttered.

“If they murdered Tony for this, why would they have left the sketch behind?”

“That's just it. They didn't leave it behind. Tony mailed it to me.”

“Very interesting indeed,” Brandon said, eyeing the sketch. “Give me a day to cover my tracks, and I'll send you the script. To your private e-mail addy. We don't want security stumbling across it.”

“You don't know my private e-mail.”

Brandon smiled a secret, ironic smile.

Chapter 21

May 12, 7:00 a.m. Boston

A warm, dry breeze floated through the open window of Dylan's bedroom. He rolled onto his back and stretched. He had enjoyed a deep, restful sleep, one he had not experienced in several weeks. His arrival home the evening before had been later than he expected, and he did not call Heather. Now he turned his head and squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Seven o'clock. He stretched again and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed onto the floor.

He wandered to the window and looked out. The day began warm, but not hot. A nice spring morning, he thought. He hoped it was a sign of things changing. His mind reviewed the many things he had learned, and he felt he had taken a step forward toward determining what had happened to Tony, and why. But
who
was still the bigger mystery.

Thirty minutes later he stood in the kitchen over a hot griddle, fixing a tangy Mexican omelet while the whole wheat bread sat in the toaster turning a light brown.

He heard the sound of a quiet chime from his laptop. He spun it around on the counter to see the screen and found himself looking in his Gmail inbox at a return address from one
[email protected]
. There was an attachment, and as Dylan scrolled down, he read Brandon's brief instructions explaining how to download and save it as an executable file. Out of curiosity, he hit “reply” and was not in the least surprised when his attempt bounced back.

The phone rang, and Heather's number appeared on the caller ID screen. He smiled. He knew she would not be able to wait any longer to hear about the trip to Westwood.

“Good morning!” He couched the handset between his left shoulder and ear while he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Indeed, it is. I thought I'd hear from you last night, but when I didn't hear by eleven, I figured you were late getting home. How did it go?”

He smiled as he heard the excitement in her question. “Well, there was one really tense moment, but I'll explain that to you later. This guy is a cross between brilliant and creepy, yet I can see why Tony liked him. He's really paranoid, but from everything Tony told me about him and listening to his story, I can understand why.”

“Anything positive come from the meeting?”

“Yes, and he gave me some information on that sketch Tony sent me. It's a draft design of a device for wireless electricity. It isn't complete, but it looks like Tony was on to something big.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And in the right hands it could be revolutionary!”

“Do you think someone found out about it? Could it be important enough to kill him over?”

“You mean someone at Mantric? Heather, I'm not the technology brain Tony was, but I've got to believe that something like this—hell—if someone could make this actually work, electric power companies would kill for it.” He stopped and realized what he had just said.

Heather took a deep breath. “Well, that could certainly provide a motive. Do you think Tony told someone at the company about this and they realized its potential?”

“I don't know. It doesn't fit with what's been happening at the firm. First Rich is canned, then Tony is murdered, and now Matt is clinging to his job by a hair. And I'm under attack from Art. But I just received a script from Brandon that will allow me to hack into the company's root directories.”

Heather let out a small chuckle. “You? You're going to hack into the company's root directories? Dylan, you may be ultra-smart about business, and you have a good understanding of technology, but I don't think hacking is your strong point. I'm coming over. Make sure the coffee is fresh.”

Before he could protest, Heather disconnected the call. Dylan thought about her question. Did this schematic have anything to do with Tony's death? And, if it did, what could he do about it?

His mind flitted over many topics. It gnawed at him that he had been unable to find Tony's final message. That was his job, finding that message. Or rather, finding evidence that would confirm a motive for Tony's death. Should he use Prometheus's script that would allow him access to the root directory of the network? He paced the floor, anxious to share the script with Heather. She was the only one he could talk to who knew Tony had been murdered. He needed her input, her eyes, and her help.

His footsteps echoed on the tile floor as he walked across the kitchen to the fridge. It was a lonely sound—a frightening sound. The desire to call Tony and get his advice on how to handle the situation overwhelmed him, and the knowledge that he would never talk to his friend again brought him to the edge of despondency. He had to shake it off. He had to concentrate. He grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and sat at the table in the breakfast nook. He knew Heather was at least another ten minutes away, and his nerves prickled his skin. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and speed-dialed Rob.

“Hey,” Rob said. “What's going on?”

“I'm sitting in the kitchen with juice and an omelet. Where are you?”

“Actually, I'm at my folks' house. What's up?”

“Not much. You find anything out at your end about Hyperfōn?”

“Yeah. I found out a classmate of mine works at LC. He said the creation and launch of Gazi there seemed to come out of the blue. No one he knew had ever heard anything about it in advance. I'm thinking the problem may have been at Joe's end.”

“I don't see how. We registered the site and set it up ourselves. We managed it. Joe's people had no access to the back end of the operation.”

“But Dylan, for LC to develop this on its own would have taken at least a year, and folks there would have known about it. I think they could have had a source inside Hyperfōn.”

Dylan thought for a moment. It was certainly a possibility. “That's true, Rob. That certainly could explain it. But we need to finish looking at all of the possibilities.”

“OK. Listen, I'm sorry, but I gotta go.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow.” Dylan clicked off his phone. He admired Rob for his ability to concentrate and try and figure out any angle to explain the Hyperfōn situation. Dylan, on the other hand, lacked concentration; he kept seeing ghosts everywhere he looked.

The doorbell startled him out of his thoughts, and he hurried to the door. Heather held a big bag from Finagle-A-Bagel. In the kitchen, she removed a half-dozen assorted bagels and cream cheese, then poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Okay. So tell me about this script and your meeting with Mr. Wist.” She plopped two bagels on a plate. She eyed the dirty egg dish, looked at Dylan, and smiled.

Dylan set the laptop on the table and showed her Brandon's e-mail and script. He watched her as she leaned in close to the screen. She read the first ten lines and turned to Dylan.

“I think we can do this.”

“We?” he asked.

“Well, you're not fast enough on the computer, and your mind is very compartmentalized. You study things before you take any steps. No offense, but you tend to analyze things for too long. I operate more intuitively, and besides, let's not get you fired. If I get fired, I'll land on my feet quicker than you will. Potential employers will think you carry extra baggage, plus Art would probably be harder on you than on me.”

They finished breakfast with small talk, each deeper in thought about how to move forward. Then Dylan's computer beeped at him, and Christine's ID bounced on the screen. Dylan looked at Heather, who wiggled her eyebrows and moved behind the computer out of camera view.

“Good morning,” Dylan said coolly.

Christine looked peeved. “Dylan, I just received a call from a Detective Baldwin from the BPD.”

“Really?” He offered nothing additional.

“She said they are just following a few leads before closing the file on Tony's death.”

“Well, I guess they know their business. So Christine, what can I do for you?”

“Did you know anything about this? Did they talk to you?”

“They interviewed me extensively after I found Tony's body, of course.”

“They didn't ever give you the impression that his death wasn't an accident, did they?”

“Seriously? No.” He met Christine's digital gaze calmly. “Why? What did she say?”

“She
says
she's just checking to make sure there were no problems with Tony at work.”

“Well, that's her job, I suppose.”

“She wants to see Tony's computer. She said she'd get a court order if we didn't hand it over.”

“I assume you gave it to her?”

“Of course. I told her we would cooperate in every way.”

“Good. Was there anything else?” He anticipated there was more to her call than an update on Detective Baldwin's progress.

“There is something,” she began.

Dylan glanced toward Heather.

“It's important that you tell your people to cooperate fully with the police. They knew Tony much better than the rest of us, and I'm sure the police will want to interrogate them thoroughly.”

Dylan regarded her pinched face. Her use of the word “interrogate” did not slip past him. Her expression was icy, veiled, almost threatening.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “I'll make sure they understand.”

As Christine reached forward to cut the connection, Dylan saw a reflection in the window behind her head and to one side: Ivan.

He closed the laptop and looked up at Heather. “It's time to get back to New York,” he suggested. “Christine was not alone in her office.”