Surly Bonds

by Michael Byars Lewis

  The door opened, and Major Tom Sinclair walked in, his wet hair combed over his balding scalp, and his gym bag slung over his shoulder, a racquetball racket protruded out one end.

  The two old friends exchanged greetings and caught up on each other’s families.

  “I’m here to peek at the little computer problem you had the other day,” Alonzo said.

  “I didn’t realize you were the computer guy. I was expecting Curt Davis to show up.”

  “Curt is still the computer expert from specialized services, but he had some family problems to take care. I’m here to take notes.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what I can. Come on, let’s go sit in my office.”

  The two friends walked past Vicki’s desk, and Alonzo could see her watching them out of the corner of her eye. Major Sinclair dropped his bag on the floor and sat behind his desk.

  “Have a seat. Did my assistant give you a hard time?”

  “Oh, not too bad.”

  “Yeah, she has this thing about police officers. She’s one of those who thought Rodney King should be put on the next U.S. postage stamp.”

  “Huh,” Alonzo said. “I don’t think that will happen. Besides, she thinks I’m a spy.”

  “Nice. So, tell me. What’s up?”

  “Well, we’re investigating all incidents with suspected computer tampering. Information Warfare is the latest thing in the DOD. Ever since they installed this new security system, we investigate every system breach. Is there any info you can give me?”

  “Not much. Vicki came in the other day, turned on the system, and got an ‘ACCESS DENIED’ greeting on the screen. She tried re-booting, turning it off and on, and it was still a no-go. I came in shortly after and got the same results. We called the guys at the computer center, and they got us back online. Couldn’t tell us what the problem was, though.”

  “Is there anything here someone would want access to?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. We track the assignments of enlisted personnel. Nothing very interesting, certainly not classified.”

  “Not exactly a major national security problem.”

  “No, not really. It’s not like we keep anyone’s actual records here. We don’t have any classified information in this office. It’s all public knowledge. We just track it.”

  The phone in the outer office rang. Vicki walked into the doorway a moment later.

  “Sir, the phone is for Mister Jacobs.”

  “Thanks, Vicki,” Sinclair replied. Sinclair handed the receiver to Alonzo as he punched the blinking light on his phone.

  “This is Agent Jacobs.”

  “Alonzo, this is Connie. I got a call we need you to check out.”

  “Okay, I’m almost done here. What’s up?”

  “The Twelfth Operational Support Squadron called. They tried to access their computer file that contains all the tests for Air Education and Training Command. Somebody has tampered with their computers. They were denied access.”

  Alonzo gave Sinclair a puzzling look. “Interesting. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and thought this security system would be more trouble than it was worth. Alonzo said his goodbyes and headed across the base to the Twelfth Operational Support Squadron.

  FOR THE THIRD TIME IN A ROW, Lenny helped Vince max a test with a one hundred percent score. Vince wasn’t the only person in the class who accomplished this feat, but Lenny had helped him make it look easy.

  Lenny knocked on the door. Vince answered in shorts and a faded t-shirt.

  “What do you think, buddy?” Lenny said, pushing his way past Vince into the room. “The Len-meister comes through with the goods, once again.”

  “Yeah, swell.”

  “Was there ever any doubt?”

  “Yeah, there’s been doubt,” Vince said, slamming the door. “Doubt you’re able to keep your fricking mouth shut.”

  “W-what?” Lenny said, the confidence leaked out of his voice.

  “Don’t what me, you prick. You think you’re funny with your little innuendos and comments trying to make me look like an ass in front of everyone. I ought to stick my fist down your throat and rip out your liver.”

  “Vince, I’m s-sorry. Don’t take this the wrong way. I sure as hell don’t want you to get busted. If you go down, I’m fried for sure. You just cheated on some tests, okay? I’m the bozo who’s committing the felony here. Yeah, I’m under a little pressure, but how many other students do you know who can access Air Education and Training Command’s mainframe to get copies of the tests. None. So, stay off my back.”

  Vince left the doorway and moved to the chair next to the couch. “Just don’t let your genius ass get us caught.”

  “I’m tired of you pinging about this. Give me my money and I’ll split.” That had always been the deal. Half before, half after.

  “I’m not pinging about this, I’m pinging about you. You need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

  Lenny leaned back on the couch, his long skinny legs outstretched, his G.I. flight boots pointed to the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Two thousand a test now, huh?”

  “Hey, bud, supply and demand.”

  “There seems to be a bad precedent being set here Banks. Your prices keep going up at an excessive rate. Doubling the price is a pretty risky move.”

  “Hey, screw you!” Lenny said, running his hands through his thinning hair. “I’m the one taking the risks here! If you don’t like it, try studying for a change.”

  Lenny had worked this scam for years. It started back in college when they were Air Force cadets in R.O.T.C. He was a computer hacker in the truest sense of the word. One day while he surfed through the university’s website, he stumbled across a chat room and met another hacker. This guy informed him about a program he could download that enabled him to backdoor almost any computer system. Informally, it was called a “lock pick” because it could access password protected areas. On the ‘Net, it was known as a “weasel,” a hacker’s Shangri-La, the imaginary golden idol that didn’t exist. Only it did. And Lenny Banks had it.

  It was a quirk of fate for Lenny, because the university’s various departments began to put their entire test systems on a mainframe. The university essentially put a degree in his lap. Lenny didn’t know why Vince approached him back then, but Lenny readily accepted the offer. He desperately needed the money, and Vince had what seemed an endless supply to spend.

  The two were fortunate to receive pilot slots to Undergraduate Pilot Training. It wasn’t long before Lenny discovered he could access the Air Force’s mainframes. Lenny’s first venture toward borderline treason was the one that assigned them both to the same UPT class. He told himself it didn’t matter. He didn’t take anything away from anyone; he merely put himself in a preferred location. Vince was his money tree, and he didn’t want to be far from his secondary source of income. Soon, Lenny figured out how to infiltrate the mainframe that contained the tests for UPT. Then the payoff increases started.

  Lenny always thought Vince wasn’t intelligent. Oh, he had street smarts for sure. Lenny even said he was “athletic and charming.” But book-wise, he was dumber than dirt. Vince could not maintain the fast pace of the technically oriented flight training. He needed Lenny, and Lenny knew it. Over the past several weeks, however, Lenny had placed himself in a position where he needed Vince and his patronage.

  “You’re awfully cocky today,” Vince said as he moved to his closet. “Was it something you ate, or did you develop a backbone?”

  “Screw you.”

  “No thanks. I’ll pass.” Vince reached into the bottom of his closet and pulled out a black duffel bag. He thrust his hand inside the duffel and removed a black, zippered cloth briefcase the size of a notebook. Unzipping the case, he retrieved a small stack of one hundred-dollar bills, counted out twenty of them, and handed them to Lenny.

  Lenny stared at the crisp bills as he fanned them out in his hands. “Holy crap, Vince. Where�
��d you get all the cash?”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got your problems, I’ve got mine.” Vince zipped up the briefcase, returned it to the duffel bag, and set it back in the closet.

  “I wish I had your problems. You rich kids have it made.”

  “I’m not a rich kid.”

  “Yeah, right. Either you’re a rich kid, or you’re one helluva better gambler than me.”

  “Mind your own business, Lenny Banks.” Vince’s face muscles grew taunt, his hands curled into tight fists. “You’ve got your money, now leave. You’ve got a job to do.”

  Lenny realized he’d overstayed his welcome. With nervous hesitation, he inched on to his feet and slipped the money into the left breast pocket of his green flight suit. “Yeah, see ya.” Lenny edged out the door as a weak smile started to form on his worn, thin face. Lenny placed his hand over the cash in his pocket and felt reassured. He had his problems, but they would soon be over.

  11

  August 17, 1995

  * * *

  JASON SAT ON THE COUCH, his books and papers sprawled across the coffee table in front of him. He had developed a plan of attack to study for the evening and was already two hours into it. His forehead wrinkled as he observed the mess. His stomach growled, and he popped off the couch. When he reached the kitchen, someone knocked on the door.

  “Surprise.” Kathy stepped into the room as he opened the door. “I thought I’d bring you dinner.”

  Jason scratched his head with a confused, but happy look on his face. Their first date was only a few days ago. “How did you get on base?”

  “Really, Jason? It’s Enid, Oklahoma. A little wink at the airman at the gate and he cleared me in.”

  Jason stepped to the side as she walked through the doorway of the generic dorm room with a pizza and a bottle of red wine. Marching into the living area, she set the pizza on the only clear spot on the coffee table. Kathy started to move the books and papers scattered across the couch. “It looks as if you need to take a break.”

  “You are amazing,” he said, dumbfounded at his luck. He was tired of studying, was hungry, and desperately needed a break. Jason continued to gaze at her. Her light blue sundress clung to her tight, well-proportioned body in all the right places. The sandals she wore matched her dress. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He responded. The kiss was long and passionate. The kind that usually leads to something else later. They broke the kiss, he cupped her face in his hands, and gazed into her eyes. There was passion there. He saw it. So did she. He could tell.

  “Let’s eat,” she said and pushed away from him.

  Mood-breaker. Probably a good thing, he thought.

  “Can you grab some paper napkins?” she asked, opening the pizza box lid. “And some glasses for the wine?”

  “This is the first time I’ve seen you in a dress.”

  “Like what you see?”

  “Yes,” He walked into the kitchen and pulled out two small glasses and a stack of paper napkins. Kathy moved more books to make room for him.

  He sat next to her and opened the lid. “Pepperoni and sausage. Excellent choice. You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

  She laughed at his comment. “I missed you. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow night when you and your buddies stumble into Chicaros drunk. It’s not what turns a lady on.”

  “I haven’t done anything like that,” Jason said.

  “I know,” Kathy replied with a wry smile, “I was just giving you a warning.” She handed the bottle of wine to Jason. “Here, you open this. That’s a man-type thing to do.”

  Jason opened the bottle and poured the wine as she put a slice of pizza for each of them on a napkin. They toasted each other and began to eat.

  “So, Conrad, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  Jason swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you going to be a career man? Dash for the airlines? What?”

  Jason took another bite of pizza and thought for a moment. “I haven’t thought about it. I guess it’s too early for me to make any decisions. I’ve worked hard just to stay in pilot training. I’ve never considered what I’d do after I’m finished. A transport plane would be fun. Travel the world, you know? Flying upside-down and yanking and banking is fun, but I’m not sure if that’s my personality.”

  “It’s unusual you don’t want to be a fighter-jock.”

  “Well, I guess I did when I started, but I’ve had a few flights and talked to a lot of the instructors about it. I think cargo is the way to go for me. Besides, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Yeah, right. We’ll see about that.” She elbowed his arm and smiled. Jason smiled back and wished she’d come over a day later. He sat back against the couch before he took it any further. Sometimes being disciplined sucked.

  “So, I guess I interrupted some serious studying.” She pointed to the books on the coffee table.

  “Well, kind of. Yes, I’m trying to catch up. I feel as if I never will.”

  “Oh, so you have to study more tonight?”

  “Well, yes. Normally, I come home, study, eat dinner, study, and go to bed.”

  “What about me?”

  “Huh?” Jason said, worried about the direction of this conversation.

  The smile faded from her face. “Never mind. Eat your pizza. It’s getting cold.”

  They ate and drank in silence for a while. The warmth and enthusiasm she had shown earlier waned. Kathy was angry because he had to study. He could tell. He’d seen this behavior before, mostly in Bethany when they were in college.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I’ve worked years to get here. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Jason thought about his comment. It was the same thing he said to his ex-wife before he went to England. Before he caught her having sex with another man.

  Kathy nodded. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have put the pressure on you, but I was lonely and wanted to see you.” She stood and threw her napkin and pizza crust in the garbage. “I’m not mad, okay? I’m just going to leave and let you study. But I am taking the wine,” she said, as she stuck the cork back in the top.

  “Kathy, are you sure?”

  “Cool it, Conrad, I’m not upset. You’ve got things to do, and my life is boring. It happens.”

  Jason grabbed her hand as she walked to the door. “Thank you for being so thoughtful. I really do appreciate it. I’m glad you stopped by.”

  She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. Jason saw her glassy eyes. Why is it the pretty ones are always so lonely? He watched her walk to her truck and realized his instincts were right: she was a special girl.

  “See you around, Conrad,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. Then she was gone.

  LENNY PULLED THE CHEVROLET Camaro on Highway 81 and headed south. To the west, the sun sat perched above the horizon, creating a wonderful display of reds, oranges, purples, and blues across the wide Oklahoma horizon. Fifteen minutes later he reached the town of Carrier and turned east on Highway 58, straight to Stillwater.

  Home of Oklahoma State University and the popular restaurant/bar Eskimo Joe’s, Stillwater sat about seventy miles southeast of Enid. Eskimo Joe’s served as the heart and soul of the town.

  Lenny pressed the accelerator to the floor as he raced toward Stillwater. His habit of always going for the huge payoff placed him in debt to Big Joe McCain. Big Joe was a bookie who covered most of Oklahoma. Wednesdays, he worked Oklahoma City and Fridays he worked Tulsa. Thursday nights were spent at one of his homes outside of Stillwater, a bit out of the way, but still located between the two major Oklahoma cities. He always chose Eskimo Joe’s for dinner and beer with the boys. And business. Lots of business.

  Lenny learned about Big Joe from one of the waiters at Eskimo Joe’s. He dealt with him only a month and Lenny already owed four thousand dollars to Big Joe. But this is the Cubs’ year, and the odds on the Colorado game would cover hi
s debt when he won. Big Joe would go for that deal; sure, he would. Big Joe always did.

  An hour after he left Enid, Lenny reached the city limits of Stillwater. It was early evening, but the parking lot was full. Lenny parked down the street and hoofed the block to the restaurant. He entered the front door and pushed his way through the chaos at the downstairs bar, to the narrow staircase that led upstairs.

  At the top of the stairs, he faced a solid wall of people, smoke, alcohol, and loud music. Thursday Night was always a busy one, and the party started early. Lenny squirmed his way through the mass of people. As he approached the doorway, two ex-football player types, stepped in front of him.

  “Mistuh McCain’s been ‘specting ya,” the large black man said.

  “Monroe, don’t be so nice to the boy,” the smaller white man said. Bob Allen was pure cowboy. Wranglers, Ropers, and rodeo hat—he looked every bit of country that he was. “He’s got some business to settle with Big Joe.”

  “H-how’s it going, Bob Allen? Monroe?” These two characters made Lenny nervous.

  “Did you bring the money?” Bob Allen said.

  “Yeah, I did, sort of. I mean, I did, but I want to cut a deal.”

  “Seems to me you ain’t in no place to be making no deals.” Monroe gripped Lenny’s arm and led him through the crowd toward Big Joe’s table.

  Lenny sensed Bob Allen right behind them, just in case by some miracle he escaped Monroe’s grip.

  Big Joe sat at an enormous table in the back of the bar, surrounded by a variety of people, most of whom consisted of hard-nosed thugs and beautiful women. When Big Joe saw them approach, he stopped smiling. When Big Joe stopped smiling, everyone at the table stopped talking. His short stocky frame shifted in his seat; he pushed his cowboy hat forward on his crewcut-covered head. The short blonde who sat next to him stood to leave. The brunette across from Big Joe rose to make room. Lenny couldn’t help but notice her long legs in the blue-jean miniskirt. When she turned to face them, Lenny noticed the rest of her figure matched her legs. She even garnered Big Joe’s attention for a moment.