While not as big or lavish as Johatchen Software, the engineers at Balanced News seemed to be working in much the same way. There were large open areas with frenetic engineers debating in front of whiteboards.
Nancy caught up to them as the entered the conference room.
“Have a seat,” Jack suggested.
Mike took pulled out one of the chairs in the middle of the table and Jack took a seat facing him.
“So what can I do for you, Detective McKensey?”
“Mike.”
“Mike.”
“I’m investigating the murders of Ashima James, Julia Lewis, and Janice Johansen.”
“Aren’t you guys convinced Mark is guilty?”
“First, my job is not to decide who is guilty. That’s for the courts. I find suspects. Right now, Mark Johansen is our best suspect, but I want to make sure there aren’t other possibilities.”
“Okay. So how can I help?” Jack asked, a bit nervously – something that was not lost on Mike McKensey.
“Well, can you think of anyone who might want to frame Mark Johansen for these murders? A competitor? Someone who might hold a grudge?”
Jack thought for a moment.
“No. I really can’t think of anyone. Mark is one of the good guys in our industry. He’s done some great things and has built a solid team. Everyone at Johatchen has done quite well both financially and career-wise.”
“What about Richard Hatch? You guys all know each other pretty well, right? Would Richard have any reason to frame Mark for murder?”
“No. I don’t see it. Richard and Mark have been a team for years. They’ve had numerous failures together and now some success. It’s a symbiotic thing. Mark could never have built Johatchen without Richard, and Richard could never have done it without Mark. Nah. Not likely.”
“And what about you? How did you feel about Ashima James, Julia Lewis, and Janice Johansen?”
“Ah. Ah. Am I a suspect?”
Attempting to lighten the moment a bit, Mike replied, “As Inspector Clouseau once said, ‘I suspect everyone and I suspect no one’.”
Jack appeared very nervous now.
“I’m sorry Mr. Trageser, but it looks like I upset you.”
“It’s Jack. And I’m sorry, Mike. This is a sensitive subject and it brings me back to the personal issue I was hoping to escape from.”
“Does it have anything to do with the murders or with Mark Johansen?”
“Only indirectly. My girlfriend – at least I’d like to think she’s my girlfriend – got really upset with me when I admitted that I thought these three women may have gotten what they deserved. Quite frankly, our relationship has been going downhill ever since. And I really like this girl, ah woman. The whole thing has me pretty shook up, and I’m usually immune to these kinds of emotional issues.”
“What did you mean, they deserved what they got?”
“If I tell you, it won’t make me more of a suspect, will it?”
“Hard to say until I hear it, but look, it might give me an idea what logic would be behind these murders.”
“Okay. You may have heard this before or maybe you’ve know enough of us, but technologists are a close-knit group. We may compete; we may argue, but at the end of the day, we all try to support each other as we fight the good fight. We believe in something larger than ourselves – that technology can make the world a better place. Most of us recognize that success isn’t the main goal. And often, some of the absolute best ideas – world-changing ideas – never see the light of day. But they’re recognized for their value and appreciated.
“A lot of technologists like Michael James, Marshall Lewis, and Mark Johansen work ridiculously hard to create new products and services. They rely on a stable home life as a strong base to launch from and to come back to when things get rough. And in spite of what might look like easy success and money, believe me, things always get rough.
“Anyway, what I hated to see was how these three women ruined the lives of some of the best technologists the world has ever seen. I knew all three and I can tell you, it wasn’t because they had terrible married lives or were horribly unhappy. They just decided that they could take half or more of what their husbands had made and run. They didn’t care if they broke their husbands’ hearts or destroyed their work. They just didn’t care. I see that as morally wrong, and I suspect there are a lot of people like me that feel the same way. These women didn’t deserve to benefit from the disasters they created. So for me, yeah. I think they deserved what they got.”
“But Jack, a woman leaves her husband. Whatever the reason, do you really think she deserves to die because of it?”
“Mike. I hear you and the logical side of me agrees. But if you’re in the middle of this and you see misery that these women have caused, let alone destroying a vision of something larger, while I personally wouldn’t kill someone over it, I can imagine that others might.”
“Jack, have you ever been married?”
“No. I’ve escaped marriage so far. It’s let me dive into technology without torturing a family with long work hours, missed birthdays and anniversaries, and financial failures. But you know, if Sam could just put aside what I said, she could be the one.”
“Maybe she suspects you’re the killer.”
Jack paused for a minute then smiled. “That’s it! Mike, thanks! I think you’ve given me the answer I’ve been searching for.”
And as Jack walked Mike to the door, Mike responded in kind, “Jack, I want to thank you, too. You may have given me the answer I’ve been searching for too.”
7
As Sam made her way to the jail for her next session with Mark, she tried to put Jack out of her mind. It was all her fault. She could see it. She could feel it. Jack was charming, kind, patient. He let her take the lead even though she didn’t know where they were going. It was clear he was in love with her and just as clear that her feelings for him were getting stronger every day. And yet, she kept him at arm’s length. If truth be told, she pushed him away. Hard, but not quite hard enough for him to actually give up.
What was wrong with her? Did she really think Jack was guilty of these murders and had framed Mark? He certainly had the technical savvy to do so. And he had said that those women got what they deserved. He talked about it being justified to rid the world of evil people. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was afraid Jack was the killer. On the other hand, maybe she was just afraid, period.
Forcing herself to think about Mark, Sam was excited. While she had thought she was hot on the trail, now she knew for certain that she was on to something solid.
In recent sessions, they’d delved further into Mark’s relationship with his mother. He was beginning to remember events from his childhood that he’d buried for self-preservation. Sam could feel that a breakthrough was imminent.
As she entered the jail and was cleared through security, Sam wondered if being incarcerated had helped. Here, there were few distractions. Mark had plenty of time to think and reflect on their sessions. The progress was far more rapid that she could have ever hoped.
A pair of guards led Mark into the psych pod and stepped out after letting Sam know that she had forty-five minutes. Mark appeared calm, much more relaxed than usual as he took a seat across from Sam.
“Mark! How are you doing?”
“Good and bad,” he replied, smiling warmly.
“Okay. Tell me about the good.”
“Well, ah, Sharon came by earlier and she says they may have found out that someone hacked my computer system to frame me. They have a lot of work to do to prove it, and then they have to find out who did it, but there’s a good chance I was framed.
“And if that weren’t good enough, I had another visit from that Detective, Mike McKensey, and he told me that he has some leads. He’s pretty convinced I didn’t do this and while he said it’s unfortunate we have to prove my innocence, he had very little doubt that we would. That’s the good news. I’m actually
feeling hopeful for a change and I’m looking forward to my life after I get out of here. And deep inside, I know I’m going to get past this.”
“Mark, that’s great news. You look more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you. So, I almost hate to ask. What’s the bad?”
Mark’s face darkened. His brow furrowed and he responded soberly.
“Sam, I’ve been having a lot of dreams, nightmares, really. They’re all about my mother. But what’s really weird is that during the daytime, I not only remember the dreams, but they seem to be turning into real memories. Do you think they’re real or just dreams that I’m beginning to think are real?”
“I don’t know, Mark. Sometimes dreams are messages from our subconscious that are metaphors for things we need to know or learn. Sometimes, they’re memories that are cast a bit differently.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of these dreams, how they make you feel, and which ones seem to be triggering memories. As you’ve seen in some of our sessions, talking about dreams often takes away their impact and may help you get some clarity on what your subconscious is trying to tell you.
“Start with the scariest one and let’s go from there.”
Mark took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started describing a dream.
“In my dream, I’m just a little kid, maybe three or four years old. My mother is screaming at me, calling me names, blaming me for ruining her life. Then she grabs me by my hair and the back of my pants and shakes me, continuing to scream. She tucks me under her arm, opens a closet and throws me inside head first. My head hits the back wall of the closet. I’m crying. I’m saying over and over, ‘Sorry momma, sorry momma. Please let me out. Please let me out.’ But she doesn’t. I spend what seems like an eternity in the darkness. Eventually I stop crying and try to fall asleep. I guess I do because when I wake up I really have to pee. ‘Momma, let me out. I have to go pee-pee’. But she doesn’t let me out. I try to hold it but I wet myself. I don’t know how long I’m in the closet. My mother finally comes and when she sees that I’ve wet myself, she starts screaming at me, saying I’m disgusting. Disgusting. She drags me to the bathroom and puts me in a cold shower, telling me to take off my clothes and clean myself up. She comes back, pulls me out of the shower and brings my face close. If you ever tell your father about this, I will kill you. I promise. I will KILL you. Then she throws me on the floor and I wake up.”
Sam took a deep breath. She suspected something like this.
“So Mark, is this one of the dreams that’s becoming a memory?”
“Mark shook his head back and forth. For a moment, Sam thought he was going to say no. But instead he started nodding.
“Yes. But now as I think back, I have vague memories of other times. I think this continued for several years, probably until I was too big for her to pick up and throw around.
“But what’s worse is that other parts of the memories are coming back. I remember – or maybe I just think I remember – that when she started screaming at me, she chased me with a metal coat hanger.”
“A metal coat hanger!?”
“Yes! I’d try to run away but she’d catch me. She’d pull down my pants, bend me over a chair and start hitting me with the hanger. After she was tired or I started to bleed, she’d tell me to pull up my pants and then it would be the closet again.
“Sam, all of my dreams include the closet. I’m locked in the dark for hours. I cry. I plead. And I usually wet myself. When my mother comes, she says I should be ashamed of myself. Ashamed. You know, Janice used to say the same thing in my hallucinations. She said I was disgusting. She said I should be ashamed of myself. She called me worthless.”
And Mark broke into tears.
Handing Mark a box of tissues, Sam waited patiently. Progress. Great progress, indeed!
8
Sharon Katell welcomed Miguel and Janey into her office. They were both carrying loaded backpacks along with what appeared to be large document cases.
“You must be Janey Gray,’ she said warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And it’s good to see you again, Miguel.”
“Yeah, you too,” Miguel responded. “It’s been a while. Where can we set up?”
Not in the least put off by Miguel’s lack of pleasantries, Sharon was equally direct, “I have a conference room all set up for you. We moved in a small fridge and a coffeemaker as well as plenty of healthy and unhealthy snacks. Follow me.”
On the table of the conference room was what appeared to be Mark Johansen’s computer.
Miguel and Janey gave each other knowing smiles.
“Ms. Katell, I’ve read a lot about you. You’ve had a very impressive career,” Janey began. “Sometime I’d like to hear more about it if you have time, but right now it appears that we need to get moving on this quickly.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. The preliminary hearing is coming up next week and unless you guys find something exculpatory, I’ve got the fight of my life, and Mark Johansen’s life, on my hands.
“I’ll let you get to it.”
Miguel opened one of the cases and pulled out what appeared to be a duplicate of Mark’s computer. Then the two engineers set to work replicating Mark’s system, so that they could preserve the police copy in case they needed to start over. Almost two hours later, they were ready to start.
Miguel loaded the software provided by the informant and they ran the test to see if Unbreakable’s Trojan was on the system. And, it turned out that it was.
Next it was Janey’s turn. She loaded the tool that accessed the logs from the system. But it didn’t work.
They created virtual connection to the internet, attempting to fool the Unbreakable Trojan into waking up and capturing data, and then to send it out, but this proved more complicated than expected. They had to scaffold several other pieces of software and it was several hours before they actually fooled the code into attempting to send something.
“Aha!” Janey shouted enthusiastically. “Gotcha!”
Unlike other systems they’d looked at, this Unbreakable code was logging data to a different hidden location on the system. Janey decided to take a closer look at the code through her debugger and discovered that there were substantial differences between this code and Unbreakable Trojan that had been found on all the other systems. Still, the informant’s tool had spotted the code so clearly they were related. As she dug deeper, Janey discovered that it wasn’t just the logging. The mechanisms for encoding the outgoing messages were different as was the destination.
She and Miguel decided to try to track the destination. Given that the messages were piggybacked and that they were split and sent through multiple zombie servers this was a daunting task. They divided up the work and didn’t look up until there was a knock at the conference room door and Sharon Katell came in.
“Good Morning!”
“Morning?” Janey and Miguel said simultaneously.
“I guess you guys have been working all night. Do you have anything for me?
“Go ahead,” Miguel suggested to Janey.
“Well, first of all, we don’t have a final answer. Obviously we lost track of time. The adrenaline just wore off for me and I realize that I’m tired. I suspect I’m not doing my best work right now.”
Looking over at her partner, she saw that Miguel was exhausted.
“Anyway, we have some news. It’s incomplete and I’m not sure how much it will help, but we did find the code we were looking for on the system.”
“That’s great!” Sharon replied enthusiastically. “That means someone could have hacked Mark’s system. Did you find out if they did? Is it this suspect you can’t tell me about?”
“From the logs, I can see that someone did hack the system. They did visit sites from another system and they sent emails from this system. So, there’s a chance that Mark is being framed.”
“What do you mean, ‘a chance’? Doesn’t this prove that Mark has been framed?”
“I don’t
know. We have a problem. Until we dove into the code, we thought that if we found the Trojan on this system it would belong to that suspect we can’t tell you about. That would be pretty definitive proof – no one else has the code. Hence, he or she is guilty of framing Mark. Unfortunately, it’s not the same code. It’s very similar, but it’s not the same. And, where it sends and receives information is different. That means someone else put the code on Mark’s system, not the person we’ve been looking at so far. That means it’s even possible that Mark put the code on the system himself.”
“Oh shit!” Sharon exclaimed, disappointed. “So where do we go from here?”
“We need to track down where the data was sent and where it came from. That’s what we’ve been doing for several hours. So far no luck. Miguel?”
“Me neither. I’m running out of things to chase. Maybe I’m just too tired.”
Sharon looked at the exhausted pair.
“Guys, go home. Get some rest. Sleep and take a shower. Sometimes the best ideas arrive under steaming water. You can pick this up tonight or tomorrow. I’ll give you both the security code so you can get in anytime you need to.
“You’ve done a great job so far. We do know that someone likely hacked Mark’s computer and framed him. It’s something we can show the police. Granted the DA may argue that Mark could have planted it, but I can use it to at least plant a little doubt and even if you don’t come up with anything more, it should be enough to get the police to finally look at other suspects.
“Of course, if you find the source, and the real guilty party, you’ll have saved an innocent man. No pressure.”
Seeing that her joke fell flat, Sharon changed course.
“Sorry about that. My attempt at humor was misplaced. You guys are wasted. Go home, rest, know that you’ve helped tremendously, and that I really appreciate all the work you’ve done. Because of you, we finally have a chance!”
9
Janey had taken two days off work so she could focus on working with Miguel to find the person who framed Mark Johansen. Two days of non-stop work and they’d come up empty. The paths through the Net were just too complex to follow. Janey and Miguel were trying to brainstorm different strategies when Janey’s phone rang.
The Misogynist Page 22