Invisible Threads

by Michael Hyslip

  I opened the briefcase, and $50,000 was, indeed, inside. I pulled out the stacks of cash, examining each to make sure no bugs or tracking devices were present, and disposed of the briefcase in the outside garbage can. There could have been a passive tracker or one set on a delay, and I preferred not to take the chance.

  I picked up the previously hidden sensor units on my way out and remained shielded until I had gone about a block away and ducked into an alley. I placed the cash into a small backpack I had hidden there, along with all the dark clothing, exchanging it for jeans and a T-shirt from the backpack. I threw the pack over my shoulder and walked back toward the street, dropping the shield. No one was around, and I walked another block to my car, a nice, generic, almond-colored Toyota Camry, roughly ten years old. No one would look twice at that car, and layers on layers of security were always good.

  My own house was secluded, resting in a decent old neighborhood of a bunch of quiet types who all seemed to mind their own business. I didn’t own it, but since I paid my rent in cash for six months at a time, the owner didn’t mind at all. Nor did he mind if I performed any construction, as long as it was done with quality and left the house structurally sound. It was perfect for me, perfect for the neighbors.

  I stashed the cash in my safe to put into a bank’s safety deposit box later. Then I fired up my laptop to do some research on the Incite nightclub. I created a link to Tor, a private, anonymous browser network that worked by layering your connections through anonymous access points around the world. I verified Gerald Foulker as Incite’s owner, but could find nothing else out about him, and only a small amount about the club was on its website. They clearly expected you to already know it by reputation. Sounds like me.

  It was only 12:30 a.m., and the club would be open until at least 3:00 a.m. I grabbed the now-empty backpack, hopped back into the car, and headed that way. I arrived twenty minutes later to find it was quite popular and busy. I parked a block away and came back on foot to the rear of the club, shielding as I got closer. The alley was empty, but there was a door with a security camera above it. The dumpster had plenty of glass bottles, so I picked up a few and stood about ten yards away from the door. I threw a bottle at the camera, but missed it by a mile. Fortunately, it did hit the building with a nice shattering spray of glass.

  Yeah, I’m a real rebel. Go me!

  The door opened, and a real behemoth of a guy stepped out, his right hand resting on a gun in his waistband. He looked around, saw no one, and started to close the door, so I threw another. This time the bottle came much closer and exploded against the brick of the building about six feet away from him. He drew the gun and stepped outside and seemed a bit upset for some reason. Oops!

  “Knock that crap off, or I’ll grant your death wish, punk!” his deep bass voice boasted in anger.

  I tossed another over toward the dumpster. It hit the ground and rolled, making a ton of noise. Perfect. The bouncer immediately headed in that direction. I sidled up to the door and caught it before it latched, slipping quickly into a hallway. I could see another bouncer at the end of the hall, but he was facing away toward some private party rooms. Each time a door opened inside, the burst of music enveloped the hallway until it closed again; generally, it was very good soundproofing. The first doorway was the security room. Occupied by two guards with all of the private rooms and the main lounge displayed on monitors, I couldn’t see anything that looked like the owner’s office. He liked his privacy, and that should make my job a bit easier.

  The next door led to a stairway up to another floor with a large sign that said PRIVATE/MANAGERS OFFICE. I like it when people are considerate of my needs, letting me know exactly where to go. The door had an electronic passkey lock, but as I started to turn back toward the security station, thug #1 reentered the building. The hallway wasn’t exactly going to fit my six-foot frame at the same time as this massive bouncer, especially since he didn’t know I was there. It became a moot point as he ducked into the security office to explain he found nothing outside: “Must have been some punk kids.”

  There was no room to move around at all with all three people in there, so I waited; after about twenty minutes, the big guy left and headed out to make a pass at drunken girls. I didn’t care as long as he wasn’t getting in my way. I slowly crept inside as the guards were smiling and watching video from one of the “private” rooms, which clearly wasn’t too private. That poor sap was probably being blackmailed from the looks of what was going on in that room, not to mention the drugs. It certainly lined up with the job description if I was supposed to get some “information.” Most likely blackmail material being held against Pete Matroni. Like I care; I’m just here to get paid.

  While the two buffoons were probably gawking over call girls and senators, I ignored the fact that it was pretty much the definition of Congress anyway. I pulled a lanyard with a key card from the jacket resting on the back of one of the chairs. Easy peasy. I backed out and waited in the hallway for an opportunity to access the manager’s office. A few minutes later, the main lounge door opened, and the instant crash of music filled the corridor. I swiped the card and as a barely heard beep sounded, the lock clicked. I quickly moved inside, making my way to what should be Gerald’s office.

  I found a small entry area with a locked door next to a window at the top of the stairs. The office was empty at the moment, and another window, a massive one overlooking the entire club floor, filled one side of the manager’s office. Perhaps Gerald wasn’t even here tonight or was making some rounds to persuade clients downstairs to spend more money. I had my lockpicking kit on me because I pretty much carried it everywhere now. I opened it and began working on the tumblers; if I couldn’t witness a safe being opened, I wouldn’t be able to get the combination myself, but at least I would have a rough idea of where to go. After a minute or so, the last tumbler clicked into place, and the handle turned. I entered the domain of the manager and locked the door behind me. Keeping it locked would not only provide me time in case of a problem, but it was already expected to be locked.

  Chapter 10

  The office was simply decorated: clean, stylish, and very well organized with a beautifully made large desk in the center. Not a lot went on here, or the place was kept immaculate. I admired a large salt-water fish tank with a small shark and some coral and began methodically looking for a safe. It wasn’t hidden under the small ashtray (You never know!), nor were there were any wall paintings to hide it behind. The room was dark, and I couldn’t turn on a light in case the main lounge could see it through the glass.

  After about twenty minutes of searching, I found two things: First, even though the ashtray did not hide a safe, it was fastened to the desk quite securely. Second, there was a button under the lip of the desk that would probably set off an alarm to the security station. I decided to ignore the button, though it was possible it simply unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs to let someone in.

  I looked again to the ashtray and tried turning it. There was a click of an electronic relay, and the entire desk smoothly slid sideways on a mounted railing, revealing a small trapdoor underneath the drawers. Nicely done. I’m impressed. I lightly put weight on the door, and after a click, it sprang slightly upward, allowing me to grasp the edge to lift and swing it out of the way. The trapdoor revealed a highly sophisticated safe with a full handprint, biometric entry system. I sighed; there was no way I could open this thing without Gerald himself being here, and only the small door to the safe was accessible. The safe itself extended beneath the floor and had, obviously, been installed before the flooring was put into place; it could easily weigh several hundred pounds.

  As I was busy with my head under the desk, I noticed the music suddenly became louder as the downstairs door opened, and footsteps followed. I quickly shut the trapdoor and twisted the ashtray back into place. The desk slid back with a silent click just as the office door was unlocked. I stepped back next to a fake tree in the corner, ca
reful not to bump into the branches and give myself away.

  “Kill whoever it is. I don’t care, just kill them!” a voice boomed.

  Two large, bulky men entered, both with guns drawn like they knew how to use them, and checked the corners and other blind spots in a well-practiced routine. These guys certainly weren’t amateurs, and that made things much more complicated. They moved together to opposite sides of the desk, dropping low and checking underneath. As soon as they realized no one was there, they cleared the rest of the room in a quick and precise manner, yet oblivious to the invisible me. I almost laughed, but that would be highly unprofessional, and I try to leave the unprofessional moments for when my life isn’t in immediate danger. Usually.

  There was nowhere to hide—no drop ceiling or locations large enough to hide anything bigger than a badger—and they’d already verified no one was under the desk. They had cleared the hallway coming up, as well.

  “Clear,” one of them said.

  The other picked up a radio and got an immediate response from the security room: “Sorry, nothing on the monitors before you entered, and no one leaving since. Either they’re still in there, or there is a problem with the alert system for access to the safe unit.”

  Gerald took a deep breath and furrowed his eyebrows. “Fine, leave me, but stay nearby in the hallway downstairs. And one of you double-check security footage to make sure those ignorant monkeys down there actually know what they’re talking about.”

  Both men took another quick look around and made their way out of the door after nodding to their boss. This left me alone with him, provided there were no more surprises, and that created an interesting opportunity. He was fairly nervous, and I suspected he was wondering if anything had been taken. I saw him flip the ashtray, the desk sliding sideways to expose the safe as I had just done. He stooped down with his bulk, lifted the trapdoor, and moved his arm around to place his palm on the reader. After a few seconds there was a beep followed by a click. He pulled on the handle of the safe, and it popped open.

  I decided to keep this to a low-tech resolution and simply rammed my foot into the back of Gerald’s blimp-sized rear end. It made a nice thumping sound as his head hit the back of the solid desk, and he slid to the floor like a blubbery polar bear in an unconscious heap.

  After some incredible effort, I dragged Gerald away and found some cash, a few documents, and multiple flash drives in the safe. I grabbed it all and stuffed them into a small pack, then wiped down every surface I had touched. I closed everything back and noticed a buzzing sound coming from Gerald’s pocket. I reached in and pulled out a device that had a small display screen, currently with the text: “ALERT: Office Safe Accessed – Acknowledge?” I hit the key under “OK,” and the message disappeared, replaced by “Status: OK.”

  I replaced the device and moved the desk back by twisting the ashtray. I decided to make a slight change and drew a picture of a ghost on Gerald’s cheek with his own fountain pen and grinned; that would really stir things up. I wasn’t paid to do the job quietly or undetected, and I specifically remembered Mr. Matroni being fairly cavalier about my possible encounters with violence if needed. This caper should start building an even larger reputation for “The Ghost” until it gets too hot to continue.

  I left quietly and made my way back downstairs, but there was a guard directly outside the door, and I had absolutely no room to slide past him into the hallway. Luckily, they had left the office door unlocked, which saved me some time, so I reentered the office, picked up the phone, and hit the extension for SECURITY. It was immediately picked up, and so I lightly set the handset on the desk and went back to the door, opened and locked it, and then exited to the staircase as the door shut behind me. The landing at the top was plenty wide for multiple people, so I could easily wait. It wasn’t long before the electronic lock clicked down below, the door opened, and multiple gun-toting men made their way upstairs right beside me.

  One peeked inside, seeing the legs of their boss sticking out from behind the desk, and immediately went for his key ring when the doorknob wouldn’t turn. Once unlocked, they rushed into the room, and I didn’t waste a single moment slipping to the bottom of the steps as they were busy clearing the room and checking on their unconscious employer.

  Distraction, confusion, misdirection. These were my best allies, and I let them all out to play as I entered the main hallway. I let the door slam hard and watched the bouncer at the end of the hall jump and reach for a gun. They were all on high alert, since something very strange was going down, and the remaining guard from the security station looked out into the hall to check the situation. They looked at each other and shrugged, and I assumed neither was allowed to leave their positions unless absolutely necessary. The guard slinked back into the control room and was nervously watching the monitors as I quietly stepped inside. I looked around and saw a large electrical conduit feeding the array of displays on the wall, but it was under the desk and plugged into what appeared to be a heavy-duty 220v outlet. I couldn’t get to it and preferred not to knock out every person I came in contact with. Confusion was also incredibly fun, at times, and a much better alternative at the moment.

  I noticed with some satisfaction that the large panels for circuit breakers were also along the wall. None had their covers on, and a small fan was blowing to keep them cool during high-load periods. I looked over the breakers and found a large-amp circuit labeled “Security Office” and smiled at the chaotic fun about to be unleashed. The entire panel seemed devoted to the back section on the first floor, so I placed my hands over both the individual security room switch and the entire panel main switch. I gave the breakers a nice shove as they both popped offline, dousing the room and hallway into darkness.

  The guard jumped, and the emergency lights kicked on as I heard a yell from down the hall. I quickly slid into the hallway and up against the backdoor, ready to move.

  “Holy crap, what just happened?!”

  “Breakers popped, hold on!”

  They continued bickering until the bouncer ran into the security room to help. Perhaps two buffoons are better than one. I opened the back door, and as it closed, I heard a breaker click as it reset. Some light escaped from the now-lit hallway, and the guards cursed as they tried to reestablish electrical feeds to the security room itself. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about a camera recording a magically opening door and no one leaving. Time to go home.

  Chapter 11

  I sat at my desk and looked through the stash from the safe: the documents were deeds to properties and some stocks, nothing important to me. Possibly worth a lot, but also a larger hassle than I needed. The flash drives were another story, though. Except for two, they all contained large amounts of video from the club’s camera systems. So blackmail then…. One of the remaining drives contained encrypted file containers, and perhaps Matroni knew how to get into them, but I didn’t care. However, the last drive held a bunch of data concerning a scientific institute in the city: the inspections required to be done on the equipment and other information about union agreements with workers.

  The Institute for the Advancement of Science and Prosperity. Gerald was probably strong-arming the city and unions into getting the contracts and was able to access valuable information through that connection. I neither cared what his or Matroni’s game was, but when I noticed the letterhead combined the initials to create IASP, I needed to know more. It was the same company I’d tried to research at the library. I pored over the documents, hoping to find more information than was on their website. Copies of construction contracts, some sketched blueprints, and logistics information for materials…none of it made sense to me. But a few pages were part of a proposal that seemed focused on the military application of quantum refraction. I didn’t understand the terminology, but a 3D model drawn on the page showed a spherical construct much like what I’d seen in my dream.

  The diagram showed a close-up of a one of the “arms” that formed the s
phere, indicating they were to be made from osmium, the densest natural element in existence: harder than diamond to compress, twice the density of lead, and rarer than an honest politician. From the basic illustration, it seemed the theory was to use this device to tap into resources at another location and pull them through to the first location. Perhaps an idea of teleportation? Could this be what happened to me? I couldn’t imagine the technology already exists, but yet my dreams might be evidence to the contrary. Perhaps it was a way to transport troops directly behind enemy lines… That would be a security nightmare. I chuckled just thinking about a portal opening between the inside of a volcano that connected to North Korean missile silos.

  The answers I needed weren’t found on these papers, and the only place I’d get them would be from the encrypted flash drive if it was related to the IASP. Encryption was a tricky thing, though, as my own research into data protection had taken me down this path already. If the device was encrypted with 256-bit keys, the most likely approach, it would be exponentially harder to crack than a 128-bit key. Whereas a four-digit numerical password would be easy—assuming you knew they were all numbers—alphanumeric encryption added twenty-six lowercase and twenty-six uppercase possibilities to the mix.

  And if you started adding any special characters, the potential time to crack the password increased yet again. Even with four digits, the range is from 10,000 possible numeric passwords to over 14 million alphanumeric ones. Each time another digit is added to the password, the possibilities rise exponentially yet again. Select a marginally long password, and even if all computers on the entire planet worked together, it could still take longer to exhaust all possible combinations than the universe had been in existence. If this flash drive had been used in association with the military, it would simply be uncrackable. The answers were here, but I’d have to obtain them by another route.