All The Big Ones Are Dead

by Christopher A. Gray

  “Was Julius convincing? How was Logan’s frame of mind as the conversation went on?”

  “He seemed mollified, but that may be because he wanted to avoid an argument with his friend. I figure he suspects Coppola is complicit somehow.”

  “Take care of Julius Coppola as planned, immediately. He has served his purpose. We can’t risk him cracking now and going to the authorities, or confiding to Logan. I had hoped that would be the end of it. Keep an eye on Logan for now. We need some sense of whether or not he suspects something, but leave him alone. Too many deaths in one department will bring scrutiny, even though we are insulated.” Dominican made another attempt to sip his tea, and this time it was at a palatable temperature.

  “If we let him live, Logan will eventually rebuild his work,” Dominican continued. “He has probably already started, and it is likely inevitable that Interpol will ask him for help in breaking our system.”

  Trask stood up as if to leave, but remained motionless in front of Dominican’s desk.

  “What else?”

  “The girl,” Trask replied without hesitation.

  “What girl?”

  “She’s a coffee shop barista, one that Logan knows. She walked by Logan and Coppola in the park, interrupting their conversation for a moment. When she saw that Logan was in a bad mood, she moved on.”

  “It doesn't sound like she heard much. Why do you think she will be a problem?”

  “I went to the coffee shop last night. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I was picking something up for my mother. The barista recognized me as someone she saw near Logan, more than once, so she thinks that I know him. She’s one of those types that is too good at her job, recognizing regulars and remembering their usual orders.” Dominican's expression turned to one of annoyance.

  “I see. Once Julius and Logan are dead she may mention seeing you with them if she is questioned by the police about Logan’s last moments.” Dominican put down his tea, a little too roughly. Some of it spilled onto the saucer. “But what about it? How well could she possibly describe you?”

  “Her description is unlikely to matter. The coffee shop has a video surveillance system. I could be pointed out.”

  “That will make four deaths then.” Dominican sighed. “It can’t be helped though, can it?” he asked rhetorically. “Logan and his barista girlfriend seem to enjoy Central Park. It’s up to you of course, but I’d suggest making it a mugging. A fatal one.”

  “Yes,” Trask replied. He turned and left Dominican’s office.

  ***

  Less than a minute after Trask had left, one of Dominican’s phones rang. He checked the caller ID first, smiled, then answered the call he’d been expecting.

  “Good evening, Paul,” Dominican said, answering the call.

  His greeting was met with silence.

  “Paul, this only works if you speak. And I want to hear you speak.”

  “What you ask, uh, Marc,” the man named Paul said faintly after another moment, “is a lot. It is a very bad time to be associated with the, uh, people you want me to see.”

  “Did you check the database, Paul?” Dominican asked, his voice quiet but clipped. “Did you check the database?”

  “I did.”

  “What did you find?”

  “I found the, uh, evidence you described,” Paul replied. “I don’t understand how the, uh, army of detectives working on the case missed it. The evidence is there, plain as day. I knew my son was innocent.”

  “But now he’s in jail, awaiting sentencing. There is nothing you can do to help him.”

  “But this evidence is, is, uh, there. It’s in plain sight!” Paul protested. “A phone call to our lawyer will put everything right!”

  “And where is your lawyer right now?”

  “I called him as soon as I finished the database search you told me to do. He was unavailable and I have called back at least six times, but he’s not calling me back, and I thought his office admin said he’d be back, but I’ve, uh, called back six times like I said and I, uh—”

  “Paul, stop,” Dominican said, cutting off the man’s panicky eruption. “Your lawyer got your message. He called the lead detective. The detective checked the database. There was no evidence.”

  “WHAT!” Paul exploded. “But I SAW it with my own eyes! I’m not delusional. My son is innocent and was convicted falsely and he’s going to be sentenced in less than a week and I can’t—”

  “Paul,” Dominican said calmly and patiently, “the evidence is no longer there because I removed it. I put the evidence in place for you to see, and then I removed it. I told you before how this has to work. Your son’s freedom in return for your services.”

  “You… you were the one who framed my son in the first place!”

  “I admit to no such vile and venal action, Paul. The evidence will reappear when I make it do so. Not before.”

  “How can you do such a thing? It’s impossible!”

  “Calm yourself, Paul,” Dominican said, nonchalantly, “because the evidence of your own eyes must tell you at this moment that it is indeed perfectly possible. The evidence will appear, or not, as I see fit. There is no more and no less to it than that.”

  There are few more terrifying things for a father than seeing his child drowning in a morass of physical and psychological danger. A father and a son live lives intertwined in inexplicably powerful ways. A grown son snatched from his father’s side by events so far beyond his control that the father is left to scream in anguish, was Marc Dominican’s stock-in-trade. He relished the absolute mental agony ripping apart the man’s thoughts. He relished it because it gave him unequivocal control over the man.

  Paul had calmed down somewhat, silenced by his own impotence.

  “When a father gives to his son, both laugh,” Dominican intoned, “and when a son gives to his father, both cry. Shakespeare wrote that, Paul. Your son needs you now as much as he ever needed you before. The money transfer will proceed as I ordered, Paul,” Dominican said.

  “Dominican, uh, Marc,” Paul said, not for the first time, but with no conviction left in his heart, “the people at the other end are suspected of being involved in terrorist financing. If this gets out, uh, I mean if I’m in any way associated with this, my life will be over, my son in prison or not.”

  “Worry about your son, Paul. That is your job. You take care of your son. This is our relationship, Paul. The successful completion of the transaction, and several more to follow, will ensure that your son does not spend another day in jail for the rest of his life.”

  Paul did as he was told, and saved his son.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Thanks, Julie,” Logan said as he accepted the Americano.

  “No problem, John. Meeting your friends in the park again today?”

  “No, I—” A middle-aged businesswoman walked briskly up to the counter. “A medium drip coffee, to go please.” Julie reflexively moved to serve her as more people moved in line. John was disappointed that he wasn’t able to devote his normal thirty-seconds of conversation with her. As short as their usual conversations were, they were developing a rapport. John had looked forward to their daily interaction, and had especially needed it today.

  Then again, it was just as well they couldn’t talk today. This data breach at the university had John and everyone else in the department on edge. Many hundreds of hours of work, lost, perhaps forever.

  He sat down with his coffee, tense, and in need of a diversion, so he took out his phone to read the daily news.

  “John!” April's voice startled him. He looked up to her smiling face. She was dressed similarly to the first time he had met her, with a patterned dress, beads, and a small brimmed hat. It took a moment for John to compose himself so he could answer.

  “April... nice to see you again.”

  “And you too, John. May I sit down?”

  “Uh, I don't think I’ll be very good company today. Something happened at the office.�
�� April sat down anyway. She looked at him, her expression turned serious.

  “I know. It was in the news as a minor security breach, but perhaps it was much more serious than that?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about it April, but I, uh, can’t.” John moved his coffee cup around on the table with his left hand, while tightly clutching his phone in his right.

  “Come on, let’s go for a walk in the park. It will take your mind off things.” Diane saw from John's expression that he needed more prompting.

  “Please John, I have to discuss something. I need your advice.” She reached out to grasp his left wrist. He let go of the coffee cup and she moved to clasp his hand. John flinched at the unexpected contact, but he returned the gesture. He found the warmth of her hand reassuring.

  John figured April wanted advice on course selection, or some other academic issue. He reasoned that it probably wouldn’t take long, so he softened.

  “All right. I’d be happy to help.” John put his phone in his inside jacket pocket and stood up as April slung her purse over her shoulder. She smiled then turned to carefully walk between the throng of customers towards the door.

  Despite the casual promise of a relaxing talk, John’s mind raced about the data breach issue, and the fact that Julius might have had something to do with it. He also thought of April. As he passed the counter he saw Julie busy with the espresso machine. He wasn’t sure if either woman was interested in him romantically. Julie had become a positive anchor in his life, even if they weren’t that close. She looked over at him and they locked eyes for a second. John had to admit that he was notoriously bad at interpreting female courtship signals. He wondered if his being seen with April might have a negative effect on his chances with Julie.

  After glancing at John, Julie had to turn her attention back to a customer. Her heart sank as she realized John was leaving the café with the woman. A few days ago she had been happy for him that he had a new friend, but now, after she had allowed herself to think of him as a potential partner. Julie pushed the thought aside as she prepared the customer’s order.

  ***

  “Let’s go up a block, that’s the closest entrance to the park.” April said as they stepped outside. John was familiar with the park entrance of course, since he had walked from the coffee shop to Central Park more times than he could count.

  As they joined the throng of pedestrians trotting across the street against the light, John realized he was tenser than he had been in recent memory. He also realized that like most people, the fact that the stressors kept piling on made him feel somewhat powerless to correct them. There were too many unknowns. He didn’t like the fact that some events were completely out of his control, such as his feelings for Julie.

  And as for April, he wasn’t sure. All he knew besides the fact that she was attractive, was that she was also very easy to talk to. Or perhaps easier than most people would be a better description.

  They entered the park at the 90th St. entrance. April took John’s arm as they walked. Again, it was a foreign feeling, but he quickly adjusted. It felt nice.

  “Here is my usual bench,” he said.

  “Just a little farther, the benches over there get less traffic.” She led him to a gravel path off of the main paved walkway and they sat down a few meters in, at the first bench. April turned so she was facing him.

  “John, I'm not going to play games with you. You’re far too intelligent for that. We know how serious the data breach in your department was, and we have a good idea as to why it happened. We need your help in bringing the perpetrators to justice.”

  John felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he instantly realized that April was not the person she appeared to be. He also felt a tinge of disappointment. She had not approached him for social reasons, but professional ones. But from what profession? He swallowed hard before speaking.

  “By ‘we,’ I gather you are law enforcement? FBI?”

  “Interpol. But we have an FBI liaison on our team, plus a few NYPD officers. The organization we are targeting operates internationally, but has a large presence here, in New York.”

  John realized he was perspiring. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans.

  “April, are you saying that the Mafia has targeted my department? For what purpose?” Diane smiled at John's naiveté. The world-class mathematical genius, who was up on all the latest computer technology, but who used quaint, out-dated references for organized crime.

  “First, let me apologize for misleading you. We needed to be discreet, for your own safety. The opposition is sophisticated not only in technical terms, but it also has some dangerous field operatives. They are involved in the illegal animal parts trade. Ivory, rhino horn, and more.”

  “Go on.”

  “This isn’t some small band of ex-army guys killing a few elephants for a few dollars. These people are part of an intricate network, involving harvesting, warehousing, and distribution, worth half a billion per year. They have governments and port authorities on their payroll. And they are hiring experts, making use of advanced weapons and field tactics, and cryptography for their communications, which makes it difficult to track them.” With that last statement, she had John’s undivided attention. He nodded slowly.

  “They were after my algorithm.”

  “Yes. We have no reason to believe you have been expressly targeted outside of your work. They wanted your algorithm for their network, or at least to use it as a basis for modification to create their own. Someone knew that you and your team were the best in the world. If they could adapt your work into their communications, and leave behind ruined hard drives, they would be years ahead of us, virtually untouchable.”

  “They even targeted our backup system. We haven’t figured out how they managed to accomplish that. A third, older system has pieces of our code, but those backups are very out of date, and incomplete. They did a good job of destroying years of work by the entire department.” John suddenly sat up and looked around. Diane read his mind.

  “We don’t think you are in any immediate danger, but yes, we have a team on you, for your own protection. We don’t want any member to reveal themselves or approach you, for fear of letting the opposition know that you’re under our protection, or even working with us. As far as any observer is concerned, I’m a lonely mature student asking the professor I met in a coffee shop for advice.”

  John continued to glance around, not only in an effort to see if he could spot any government agents, but also to appear unaffected. He was avoiding eye contact with April because he didn’t want his disappointment to show. Despite his interest in Julie, the false pretenses that had just been revealed weren’t good for his ego.

  “What would you like me to do, April?”

  “Umm, my name is not April. It’s Diane.”

  “I… see.” John felt a mixture of anger and disappointment at Diane’s admission. Again, she read his mind.

  “It was a mistake for me to use your old girlfriend’s name. My boss thought it would accelerate our bonding, but I realized almost immediately that it also ran the risk of alienating you when you eventually found out. I’m sorry.” John coughed, then stood up.

  “Well, Diane, it looks like we have some work to do.” He walked back along the path towards Central Park West. Diane trotted at a fast pace to keep up. She suspected that John was angry, or hurt, or both. She hoped it wouldn’t affect his work. Or put him in danger.

  “John, we need to—”

  “I get it, April. I mean, Diane. I’m on board, totally. Now, please excuse me. I need another coffee, and there’s something I need to do.” John realized he was sounding melodramatic, but he was agitated. Agitated at the data breach, agitated at Diane’s deception, and angry at himself for being a passive actor with Julie. He was tired of letting other people’s perception of him color all of his interactions. It was time for a change. He jogged through a break in traffic and headed to the coffee shop. Diane under
estimated his long stride and had to hang back as additional traffic appeared.

  Best to give him a little space, she thought. He’s been given a lot to process, not the least of which was my allowing him to believe I was interested. Damn.

  John entered the coffee shop, intent on talking to Julie. A customer was just leaving, so he saw his opening and strode up to the counter. Julie was surprised to see him.

  “Oh, hi John. Don’t tell me you need more coffee!” she smiled.

  “No, I... Julie, I was wondering, ah, if you—”

  “A large green tea, please,” a short woman with dark hair said. John gave the woman a look of indignation for interrupting, but she didn’t seem to notice. The interruption was enough to break John’s concentration, and his nerve. He backed away from the counter, and walked out of the shop. Julie watched him go. She had never seen John so nervous or out of sorts. She hoped he was all right.

  ***

  “What the hell was that, Agent Kwok?”

  “I'm not sure what you’re referring to, Agent Linders.”

  “Your barging in and interrupting Logan when he was talking to the barista. I had just explained his role in all of this, and he’s understandably a little overwhelmed. He needed a friend to talk to.” Kwok did her best to appear aloof to Linders’ demand. She only half succeeded, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

  “Your friend Logan was going to do one of two things: brag to the woman that he was part of some government operation, which would have compromised him, or ask her out. If she refused his advance, he would have been emotionally vulnerable, which again would have compromised his safety and therefore his usefulness to us. It was a judgement call.” Linders glared at her.