by Bill Brewer
Folding his toast over his last sausage link and consuming his impromptu sandwich, he asked, “Are you going to make me a lethal geek?”
“I will first try to make you a competent code breaker. Report to Room 278 at 0800.”
Leaning forward and locking eyes with him, she said, “Don’t be so obvious staring at my ass when I get up and walk away.”
Diegert forced himself to look down at his empty plate until she’d left the room.
When she was gone, he took his plate and went for seconds. There was no one in line, and Elena stepped up to serve him. From the other side of the glass guard, he handed her his plate, and she asked, “More of the same?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He smiled wanly at her and tried to convey a friendly nonverbal message. It might have worked, because she smiled back at him, but he didn’t know if that was special or just the way she interacted with everybody. He read her name tag as she filled his plate and handed it back to him.
Diegert didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Your name is so pretty. What does it mean?”
Her smile lit up. “Thank you. Elena means…bright, shiny…like sunlight on water.”
“Wow, that’s beautiful! My name’s David…David Diegert.”
Diegert set his tray on the metal counter and looked at her and then started to feel awkward and unsure what to say next. Elena seemed to feel the same and asked, “What does David mean?”
Diegert had never considered the meaning of his name and had no idea how to answer. He pretended to ponder for a moment and then said, “I’m afraid I don’t know.”
This made the awkwardness all the more palpable, and he picked up his tray and said, “I gotta go. Thanks for the seconds.”
She just smiled sadly and waved her hand. He walked out into the eating area feeling like a jerk.
Room 278 had no windows and a lot of computers. Its fluorescent lighting, numerous workstations, and powerful air conditioning made it a cold and serious place. Fatima was already there, wearing a thick zip-up hoodie—black, of course.
“It’s just you and me in here?” asked Diegert.
“For now, but in my opinion, this is one of the most underutilized facilities on the campus.”
“Campus? Now I really feel like I’m back in school.”
“You are in school, only this time if you fail you die.”
“Wow,” said Diegert sarcastically.
“Information is our most crucial commodity. That’s been obvious for decades. All information is now in a digital form. That’s convenient, it allows for large-scale storage and retrieval, and it lends itself to easy analysis. None of this is news. Information, though, is vulnerable to being observed, copied, altered, stolen, or destroyed. When a system can be breeched using remote electronics, then the infiltration happens from a room like this.”
“Keyboard spies of the future.”
“Right, no one is in actual danger. But when critical data can only be accessed by direct infiltration, then we come into play. The danger is something we’re already trained to deal with, but you’re of no value if you get in the building but can’t get into the data.”
“Alright, the keyboard is mightier than the AK-47.”
“Definitely. Everyone around here has their big guns and can’t wait to use them. But with the right information, you can disable an enemy just as effectively as shooting him.” Fatima smiled at Diegert, and it appeared to him that she was just as happy to hack as shoot someone.
“The first thing you have to understand is code. All computer information is coded, and the code allows the information to be specific and unique as well as portable, compressible, and in many ways permanent. Think of how government spy agencies collect all that data and sift through it looking for terrorists. It’s through manipulating code that they can identify what they are looking for from all the rest of the tons and tons of data they collect. Using code, you can put yourself on the other side of the firewall and see what’s going on in the network. Here, let me show you.”
Fatima took her smartphone from her pocket, activated an app, and scrolled through some screens. “I have a program that allows me to bypass the firewall on the Headquarters network.”
“Are you supposed to have that?”
“I have it. Once inside, I can access things like personnel files, after-action reports, construction plans, even Internet browsing history. Care to know what some of the guys were entertaining themselves with last night?”
Diegert met her mischievous gaze with a curious look. Fatima proceeded to tap on the screen of her smartphone. “Here’s someone who was on Hulu watching Mission Impossible II, as if we don’t get enough of that around here. Someone else was watching The Outlaw Josey Wales, a Clint Eastwood movie from 1976! Here’s Bassmaster.com, where someone was watching The Greatest Places for Bass in South Carolina. I guess someone is planning a fishing trip. Gunsandammo.com with the search “Decibel Reduction without Loss of Velocity,” the best sound suppressors being made today. Now that’s someone doing their homework.”
“Can you tell who?”
Smiling again, Fatima replied, “I was wondering when you would ask that. Every log on to the Internet requires an IP address. This piece of code identifies which computer is using the Internet. You may not always know who’s using the computer, but you do know what computer is using the Internet. We may have to make some assumptions or gather evidence about who is actually using a computer, but there are ways of doing that with user IDs and passwords. People think that a user ID and password makes their access secure. It does, but it also is their personal identifier. So our subject interested in silencers is, no surprise, Carl Lindstrom, the Headquarters armorer.”
The two snoopers looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders at the innocuousness of it, and moved on. “Now here’s an interesting Internet address: Gayboy.com. Not that we’re concerned with that, but the video that was watched was “Suck it Long and Strong.” This was being watched on the computer registered to...”
Fatima held her finger over the screen, not yet scrolling the information into view as Diegert’s anticipation built. “See, this is why I want you to learn about data and be able to manipulate code. You can see how powerful this capability is and how much can be learned by knowing how to access information.”
“Alright… Alright. Who is the gay boy?”
Fatima touched her finger to the screen and scrolled up the name assigned to the IP address: Alexi Strakov.
“No,” gasped Diegert.
“Come on, now, we aren’t supposed to care about that anymore.”
“No way...” continued Diegert incredulously.
Fatima left Diegert in Room 278 with some basic coding exercises that would allow him to learn rudimentary elements of code design and the interface process. The exercises required Diegert to write some simple programs to get the computer to do some calculations and store the data in specifically identified files. The tutorials provided step-by-step instructions, allowing students to progress as they succeeded. Fatima didn’t think the work was very complicated, but given the number of assignments he had, she anticipated Diegert would be at it all day.
30
Barovitz was not amused by the e-mail from Nigel Flannery.
“Fucking British pricks! They have no respect for how business is done here. They think we’ll just do things the British way. Well, bollocks to them.”
Barovitz had risen to his current position of power and prominence through strength of will and persistence. Of course, for him to be so successful meant that others were intimidated and threatened into paying him regularly and consistently from the proceeds of their labor. A mobster like Barovitz extorted money from all businesses in the country and kept law enforcement officers on his payroll. His business required him to create no product or service; he only had to siphon payments from those who did actually contribute to the economy. The Balkans had functioned in this way for so long that Michka Barovitz ac
tually had earned the respect of many for his rise to power and his ability to stay in power for so long. His business was the envy of many, and young boys were told to dream of growing up and being Barovitz.
In consultation with his most loyal and ruthless assistants, Barovitz made a plan to show the wealthy bastards that you didn’t just buy your way into Romania without respecting the business culture. They met for an hour, and Barovitz felt satisfied that their plan would bring the Brits into line and give them a new appreciation for Balkan business practices.
Diegert found the code difficult to follow, and he was frustrated by the complexity of the number and letter patterns. In the Army, he’d used programs all the time but never had to write one. His smartphone had all sorts of apps, but he didn’t have to create them. He patiently tried to accomplish the first simple task but was stymied each time a new pattern had to be mastered. Even though he was good at math, he was failing at coding. The tutorial required progress before opening the next challenge, and Diegert was getting angry at not being able to move forward.
In the afternoon, he had abandoned his first unfinished trial and opened a different tutorial, which presented him with a file to be opened without knowing the password. Diegert spent two angry hours trying to open the file, and he cursed at his inability to do what was asked. The tutorial informed him he had one last chance and it would close in fifteen minutes if he remained unsuccessful. A quarter hour later, Diegert was swearing out loud at the computer and angry at his failure to learn the password.
The next tutorial provided a lesson on establishing a firewall against a virus. Diegert found the whole concept of digital defense mystifying. The program instructed him to create a digital barrier that would thwart the program’s virus. Try as he might, each code combination he created failed to prevent the virus from corrupting the files he was to protect. The trial was the most frustrating of all, because each time he failed, he had to reread the instructions he didn’t understand in the first place. He felt he was put in a no-win situation, with insufficient instruction to be able to do the things expected of him. He imagined getting through the tournament would be easier than this.
By the end of the day, he had accomplished nothing. It was dinnertime, and he was hungry. He was relieved Fatima hadn’t come back to check on him, although he figured she was probably keeping track of him remotely. It was stupid that she thought he would just be able to learn all this stuff on his own. From the printer station, Diegert took out a piece of paper, folded it, and put it in his pocket as he left the room.
The cafeteria was serving spaghetti and meatballs, and there were a lot of guys who were much more physically fatigued from their day of training waiting in line ahead of Diegert. While he waited, his phone buzzed. The text was from Fatima: Pretty lousy work on the coding. I thought you were smart.
When Diegert came through the service line, Elena smiled to see him and gave him an extra meatball. Her beautiful smile made him feel a bit better about his lousy day. While he ate his dinner, he took out the piece of paper and wrote:
Please visit me, Room 365
David
He watched the exit of the service line until no one had come out for five minutes. He then went back for more to eat. Elena smiled when he entered, and as he approached, she said, “Beloved.”
“Excuse me?”
“Beloved,” repeated Elena. “Your name means ‘Beloved.’”
“Oh,” said Diegert.
“David is a name of Hebrew origin that has been adopted by almost every culture in the world, and it means ‘The Beloved One.’ So you are Beloved.”
Reaching her hand under the glass guard, she said, “You want seconds?”
“Yes, please.”
Elena placed the food on his plate, again giving him an extra meatball. She slid the plate under the glass guard, and Diegert slid his paper note to her side of the guard, saying only, “Thank you.”
After eating his fill, he placed his dirty dishes in the cleaning area and went back to his room. He figured Elena was off duty in the next hour, and if she was going to come, he wanted to be there.
In his room, he sat alone on his bed where thoughts of his violent acts plagued him. He saw the bullet strikes and the blood splatters in vivid color. He felt the thud of the falling bodies and the terror of the frightened mothers caught in the crossfire, risking themselves to protect their children. He recalled the fading light in the eyes of his victims whose final gaze was upon the face of their killer. The emotions he felt left him sad and dejected. They preoccupied him as if the garbage can were full and had to be emptied before one more piece of trash could be put in it. Yet he couldn’t breach that container and get it to tip over and dump its noxious contents.
These dreadful feelings were juxtaposed by the attraction he felt for Elena. She was kind and friendly. Her smile so genuine, he melted when she looked at him with her bright eyes. Her service uniform hid the outline of her body, but Diegert imagined she was femininely curvaceous, and he was eager to find out. Being emotionally and sexually attracted to this young woman gave Diegert a jolt of life, making him feel energized and excited. His conflicted state, though, clouded his thinking and occupied his mind.
It was while he was jumbled in turmoil that a knock on his door reverberated through the room. He opened the door and looked into the warm eyes and sweet smile of Elena. She stood at the threshold with her smile masking her apprehension. She knew she was breaking a protocol she had been trained to obey.
“Thanks for coming,” said a grateful and anxious David Diegert. “Please come in.”
He stepped aside so she could enter the room and closed the door behind her.
“First, thanks so much for coming to see me.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“I’ve thought about you a lot since we first met, and I was hoping we’d be able to become friends.”
“Friends or lovers?”
Diegert was taken aback by her forward question, but it was exactly what was on his mind.
“Lovers, I hope.”
He looked into her kind, gentle eyes and was captivated by the soft feminine features of her caring expression. He held out his hand, and she took it. He slowly pulled her into him and hugged her lovely body. He was embarrassed but unable to stop as the first tears crested his eyelids and rolled down his cheeks.
They moved onto the bed, and lying side by side, he burst into tears, crying bitterly, angrily, and forcefully, letting all the pain, sadness, anger, and grief come out of his body, his soul. She brushed his hair, stroked his neck, and quietly said, “Shhh…let it all out, sweet David the Beloved.”
Diegert poured it out for twenty minutes, during which he relived the tragedies of the deaths he had created. When the memory of Omar’s death came up, he was especially tortured. The serviceman was a brother in arms and just trying to do the right thing. Diegert deeply regretted killing him and was now facing the emotions of his wicked act. The exit from his heart was punishing. Elena held him tight as he suffered the disemboweling sensation of exorcising his guilt. Having saturated the pillow as well as the shoulder of her blouse, he was exhausted. She had never seen a man cry like this, and it struck her as deeply intimate. This man entrusted her to see him at his weakest moment, with his most painful emotions on unshielded display. She was awestruck.
He lay quietly with her, opening himself to make certain the trash can was empty, and he was able to be himself again. As he lay there with her, he had to admit to himself that this need for emotional catharsis was part of him. He was grateful for the comfort this lovely woman shared with him, and now he had no idea how to discuss this with her. He hoped she wouldn’t ask for an explanation. He went for the simplest phrase: “Thank you.”
She caressed his hair and face, saying, “I’m glad I could be here for you.”
Diegert looked into her eyes and saw her desire. He moved forward, bringing his lips to hers. She pressed forward as well, and the
pressure of their mouths ignited their sense of pleasure. Diegert pulled her closer in his arms. Elena slid her leg between his, allowing their hips to exert an erotic pressure. Elena opened her mouth, and their tongues intertwined, dancing in a flurry of exquisite pleasure. Diegert’s hands ran down her body, feeling the sweep of her rib cage into her narrow waist and then the sensual curve of her hips. Diegert rolled her to the side, sliding his hand up until he caressed her clothed breast.
Elena moaned as Diegert gently squeezed her sensitive chest and started unbuttoning her blouse. Elena’s excitement exploded, and she broke from Diegert to strip off her clothes. Diegert used the moment to do the same, and then the lovers were back on the bed, naked and enthralled with the sensation of skin on skin.
Elena’s breasts had never been exposed to the sun and looked like soft alabaster with rosy nipples. Diegert hungrily took one of her sensitive buds into his mouth, and Elena responded with an erotic moan and intense thrusts of her hips. Diegert’s shaft was fully engorged, and Elena pressed herself against the stiff member. She broke Diegert’s nipple kiss and slid down his body so she could take his erection into her moist mouth. Diegert looked to the ceiling and gave himself over to the pleasure she was providing. She stroked his shaft with her lips, altering her actions according to his pleasurable responses.
Diegert enjoyed her sensual pleasures, but he wanted to share the climax. He guided her to straddle him and inserted himself into her. The lovers found their rhythm, thrusting their hips in time with their mounting desire. Their timing was just right as Diegert reached the peak of pleasure a moment before Elena’s body exploded into a transcendent orgasm that lasted longer than any Diegert had ever witnessed. She crashed down on top of him, pressing her body against his.
They lay quietly, comfortable in their mutual silence. Diegert heard the swipe of plastic through the door’s electronic lock. The latch popped open with a loud snap, and the room filled with the bright light of the hallway, causing both of them to shield their faces.