Total Control (23 page)

"They promised a top priority. We'll know soon."

"Anything else turn up at the guy's apartment?"

"One thing that didn't turn up, Lee."

Sawyer flashed a knowing look. "No I.D. docs."

"Yep," Jackson said. "Guy getting ready to hit the road after blowing up a plane will not be running as himself. Way this was probably planned out, he had to have phony docs, good phony docs ready."

"True, Ray, but he could've had them stashed someplace else."

"Or whoever killed him might've taken them too," Barracks ventured.

"No argument there," Sawyer said.

On those words the door to the SIOC opened and through it stepped Marsha Reid. Petite and motherly looking, with salt and pepper hair cut short and glasses riding on a chain over her black dress, she was one of the bureau's top fingerprint personnel. Reid had tracked down some of the worst criminals on the planet through the esoteric world of arches, loops and whorls.

Marsha nodded to the other agents in the room and then sat down and opened the file she had carried in.

"AFIS results, hot off the presses," she said, her tone businesslike but laced with a touch of humor. "Robert Sinclair was actually Joseph Philip Riker, currently wanted in Texas and Arkansas on murder and related weapons charges. His arrest sheet is three pages long. His first arrest was for armed robbery at age sixteen. His last was for second-degree murder. He served seven years. Was released five years ago. Since then he's been implicated in numerous crimes, including two murders-for-hire. An extremely dangerous man. His trail went cold about eighteen months ago. Not a peep from him since. Until now."

Every agent at the table looked stunned.

"How does a guy like that get a job fueling planes?" Sawyer's tone was incredulous.

Jackson answered the query. "I spoke with representatives from Vector. They're a reputable company. Sinclair--or, rather, Riker had been with them only about a month. He had excellent credentials.

Worked at several aircraft fueling companies in the Northwest and in southern California. They did a background check on him, under the name Sinclair, of course. Everything came out okay. They were as stunned by this as anyone else."

"What about fingerprints? They.had to check his fingerprints.

That would've told them who the guy really was."

Reid eyed Sawyer. She spoke with authority. "Depends on who's taking the prints, Lee. A borderline competent tech can be fooled, you know that. There's synthetic material out there you'd swear was skin. You can buy prints on the street. Put it all together and a career criminal becomes a respectable citizen."

Barracks piped in. "And :f the guy was wanted on all those other crimes, he probably had a new face put on. Five gets you ten the face in that morgue isn't the face on those wanted posters."

Sawyer looked at Jackson. "How did Riker end up fueling Flight 3223?"

"About a week ago he asked to be switched to the graveyard shift, twelve to seven. Flight 3223's scheduled departure time was six forty-five. Same time every day. Log shows the plane was fueled at five-fifteen. That put it on Riker's rounds. Most people don't volunteer for that shift, so Riker got it pretty much by default."

Another question occurred to Sawyer. "So where's the real Robert Sinclair?"

"Probably dead," said Barracks. "Riker took over his identity."

No one commented on that theory until Sawyer pursued the issue with a startling query. "Or what if Robert Sinclair doesn't exist?"

Now even Reid looked puzzled. Sawyer looked deep in thought when he spoke. "There are a lot of problems with taking over a real person's identity. Old photos, coworkers or friends who show up unexpectedly and blow your cover. There's another way to do it."

Sawyer pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows as he thought his idea through. "I've got a gut feeling on this one that's telling me we need to redo everything that Vector did when they performed their background check on Riker. Get on that, Ray, like yesterday."

Jackson nodded and jotted down some notes.

Reid looked at Sawyer. "Are you thinking what I think you are?"

Sawyer smiled. "It wouldn't be the first time a person was invented our of whole cloth. Social Security number, job history, past residences, photo identification, bank accounts, training certifications, fake phone numbers, dummy references." He looked at Reid.

"Even false prints, Marsha."

"Then we're talking some pretty sophisticated guys," she replied.

"I never doubted they were anything less, Ms. Reid," Sawyer rejoined.

Sawyer looked around the table. "I don't want to stray from SOP, so we'll still continue to conduct interviews of family members of the victims, but I don't want to waste too much time on that.

Lieberman is the key to this whole thing." He suddenly changed gears. "Rapid Start running smoothly?" he asked Ray Jackson.

"Very."

Rapid Start was the FBI's version of the show on the road and Sawyer had used it successfully in the past. The premise of Rapid Starr was the veracity of an electronic clearinghouse for every bit of information, leads and anonymous tips involved in an investigation that otherwise would become unorganized and muddled. With an integrated investigation and pretty close to real-time access to information, the chances of success, the bureau believed, were immeasurably increased.

The Rapid Start operation for Flight 3223 was housed in an abandoned tobacco warehouse on the outskirts of Standardsville. Instead of tobacco leaves stored floor to ceiling, the building now housed the latest in computer and telecommunications equipment manned by dozens of agents working in shifts who inputted information into the massive databases twenty-four hours a day.

"We're gonna need every miracle it can produce. And even that might not be enough." Sawyer was silent for a moment and then snapped to attention. "Let's get to work."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Quentin?" Sidney stood at the front door of her house, the surprise evident on her face.

Quentin Rowe stared back at her through his oval glasses. "May I come in?"

Sidney's parents were out grocery shopping. While Sidney and Quentin headed toward the living room, a sleepy Amy wandered into the room dragging Pooh. "Hi, Amy," Rowe said. He knelt down and put out a hand to her, but the little girl drew back. Rowe smiled at her. "I was shy when I was your age too." He looked up at Sidney. "That's probably why I turned to computers. They didn't talk back at you, or try to touch you." He paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then he started and looked up at her. "Do you have time to talk?"

Sidney hesitated.

"Please, Sidney?"

"Let me put this little girl down for a much-needed nap. I'll be back in a few minutes." Sidney carried her out.

While she was gone, Rowe slowly walked around the room. He studied the many photos of the Archer family scattered across the walls and tabletops. He looked over as Sidney came back into the room. "Beautiful little girl you have there."

"She is something. A terrific something."

"Especially now, right?"

Sidney nodded.

Rowe kept his eyes on her. "I lost both my parents in a plane crash when I was fourteen."

"Oh, Quentin."

He shrugged. "It was a long time ago. But I think I can understand a little better than most how you're feeling. I was an only child. There really wasn't anyone left for me."

"I guess I'm fortunate in that regard."

"You are, Sidney, keep reminding' yourself of that."

She took a deep breath. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Tea, if you have it."

A few minutes later they were settled on the living room sofa.

Rowe balanced his saucer on his knee while he sipped delicately at his tea. He put his cup down and looked over at her, his awkwardness apparent. "First, I wan? to apologize to you."

"Quentin--"

He put up one hand. "I know what you're going to say, but I was way out of line. The things I said, the way I treated you. I... Sometimes I don't think before I speak. In fact, I'm often that way. I'm not all that good at presenting myself. I know I come off as geeky and uncaring sometimes, but I'm really not."

"I know that, Quentin. We've always had a good relationship.

Everyone at Triton thinks the world of you. I know that Jason did.

If it makes you feel any better, I find you far easier to relate to than Nathan Gamble."

"You and the rest of the world," Rowe said quickly. "With that said, I guess I should explain by saying that I was under a great deal of pressure, what with Gamble balking at doing CyberCom, the chance that we could lose it all."

"Well, I think Nathan understands what's at stake."

Rowe nodded absently. "The second thing I wanted to tell you is how truly sorry I am about Jason. It just shouldn't have happened.

Jason was probably the one person I could truly connect to at the company. He was as talented as I was on the technology side, but he was also able to present himself well, an area, as I said, I'm lacking in."

"I think you handle yourself very well."

Rowe brightened. "You do?" Then he sighed. "Next to Gamble, most people, I guess, seem like wallflowers."

"I wouldn't disagree, but I also wouldn't recommend that you emulate him."

Rowe put his tea down. "I know it seems like he and I are strange bedfellows."

"It's hard to argue with the success you two have had."

His tone was suddenly bitter. "Right. The great measuring stick of money. When I first started out, I had ideas. Wonderful ideas, but no capital. Then along came Nathan." His expression was not a pleasant one.

"It's not only that, Quentin. You have a vision for the future. I understand that vision, to the extent a technology neophyte can. I know that vision is what's driving the CyberCom deal."

Rowe smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. "'Exactly, Sidney.

Exactly. The stakes are so incredibly high. CyberCom's technology is so dramatically superior, so monumental, it's like the second coming of Graham Bell." He seemed to shiver with anticipation as he looked at her. "Do you realize that the one thing holding back the limitless potential of the Internet is the fact that it's so large, so all-consuming that navigating it efficiently is often a horrendous exercise in futility for even the most adept computer users?"

"But with CyberCom, that will change?"

"Yes! Yes. Of course."

"I have to confess, despite working on this deal for so many months, I'm really not certain what exactly CyberCom has come up with. Lawyers rarely get into those nuances, particularly those who never excelled in the sciences, such as myself." She smiled.

Rowe sat back, his slender frame assuming a comfortable tilt when the conversation veered toward technical issues. "In laymen's terms CyberCom has done nothing less than create artificial intelligence, so-called intelligent agents that will initially be used to effortlessly navigate the myriad tributaries of the Internet and its progeny."

"Artificial intelligence? I thought that existed only in the movies."

"Not at all. There are degrees of artificial intelligence, of course.

CyberCom's is by far the most sophisticated I've ever seen."

"How exactly does it work?"

"Let's say you want to find out about every article written on some controversial subject, and you also want a summary of those articles, listing those in favor and opposed, the reasons therefore, the analysis behind it and so on. Now, if you attempted that on your own through the unwieldy labyrinth the .Internet has become, it would take you forever. As I said, the overwhelming amount of information contained on the Internet is its greatest drawback. Human beings are in-equipped to deal with something on that scale. But you get around that obstacle and suddenly it's as though the surface of Pluto becomes alive with sunshine."

"And that's what CyberCom has done?"

"With CyberCom in our fold, we will initiate a wireless, satellite-based network that will be seamlessly coordinated with proprietary software that will soon be on every computer in America, and eventually the world. The software is easily the most user-friendly I've ever seen. It asks the user precisely what information is needed. It will ask additional questions as it deems necessary. Then, tapping into our satellite-based network, it will explore every molecule of the conglomeration of computers we call the Internet until it assembles, in picture-perfect form, the answer to every single question you asked, and many more you weren't perceptive enough to think of. Best of all, it's chameleon-like in that the intelligent agents can adapt to and communicate with any network server in existence.

That's another drawback to the Internet: systems' inability to communicate with each other. And it will perform this task a billion times faster than any human could. It will be like minutely examining every drop of the Nile River in a few minutes. Even faster. Finally, the vast sources of knowledge that are out there and growing exponentially with every passing day can actually be efficiently linked up to the one entity which really needs them." He looked pointedly at her. "Humanity. And it doesn't stop there. The network interface with the Internet is only one small part of the overall puzzle.

It also elevates the encryption standard to unparalleled heights.

Imagine fluid responses to attempts to illegally decrypt electronic transmissions. Responses that can not only adjust to fend off a hacker's multithrust attacks, but aggressively pursue the intruder and track him down. Do you think that would be popular with law enforcement agencies? This is the next milestone in the technological revolution. This will dictate how all data is transmitted and used in the next century. How we build, teach, think. Just envision computers that are not merely dumb machines reacting to precise instructions keyed in by humans. Picture computers using their vast intellectual muscle to think on their own, to problem-so/re for us in ways unthinkable today. It will make so much obsolete, including much of Triton's existing product line. It changes everything. Like the internal combustion engine did to the era of the horse-drawn carriages but even more profoundly."