by Leslie Wolfe
“Lose them? How?”
“Traffic is heavy, you know, and that man, Blake, drives the car himself now, so there are some nights when we do not know where they go. Our people lost them a few times.”
Ramachandran frowned and muttered some swear words under his breath.
“Incompetents. Idiots. Your people should hang for this. When they do not lose them, where do they go and what do they do?”
“They take very long dinners, then visit the city, spend time in bars, clubs, eat some more, then they go back to their hotel rooms. Just wasteful, sinful, whoring behavior.”
“Do they sleep together?”
“Not yet, but that will soon happen.”
“So, what do you want from me?”
“I want a couple of hours with the woman, in a room. I will find out what she is up to.”
“No. We have less than a month before we deliver. I will not screw this up on your hunch.”
“But, sir, I strongly believe—”
“And I do not want to hear it. I am telling you what to do, and you will do it. We were supposed to deliver the software by now. We are already late, and it could pose problems, even if we are late on purpose. You have three weeks left until delivery. All you have to do is make sure she continues to visit the city, or whatever else she does, and your people do not lose her anymore. Then everyone goes back to where they came from without any incident. How do you think I could justify the interrogation of a client’s representative? You would have to kill her.”
“I would not mind that at all,” Bal said, unable to restrain a sadistic smile and feeling a twitch below his waist. “I would actually prefer it. I would get to the truth faster.”
“You would cause a lot of suspicion. Do you want DCBI to raise hell and hit the brakes? One American woman dies here and it is in every damn newspaper and TV channel newscast in the whole world. Do not be an idiot. Do as I say. And if your people lose her again I expect to hear about how they died, slowly and painfully.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was nothing else left to say. Bal swallowed his frustration and exited the CEO’s office, walking backward for a few steps. Such a shame he couldn’t have his way with that sharmuta, at least not for now.
...78
...Monday, August 29, 10:32AM Local Time (UTC+3:00 hours)
...CANWE Headquarters
...Undisclosed Location, Greece
Vitaliy Myatlev’s hangover had started to subside, enough to make him want to get out of bed and go outside, with his eyes covered by dark shades. A beautiful summer day, and he had a lot of plans for it. He looked over his shoulder at the naked young woman sleeping in his bed. Khorosho, otlichno devushka...She was a good girl, excellent. Didn’t speak a word of Russian, this girl, and he didn’t speak a word of Greek. But it didn’t matter; she wasn’t there for the conversation. He didn’t remember much of his performance from the previous night, his memory faded in the fumes of first-grade vodka, yet he felt really good this morning. The sex must have been great.
The morning hangover was almost a given these days, and he knew just how to deal with it. His staff knew too. One of his bodyguards, Ivan, approached him with a tall glass of spicy tomato juice, generously christened with Stolichnaya, and an aspirin bottle.
“Spasibo,” Myatlev said, swallowing the pills with the Bloody Mary, “thank you, Ivan.”
He sat on the lounge chair in the shade of the big oak trees and dozed off for a minute.
His encrypted cell startled him, but he answered immediately when he recognized the name on the caller ID.
“Misha,” he greeted the caller, “how are you? How is Russia?”
“Vitya, like you care,” the caller answered.
“I do care, Misha, I care deeply. And I am working hard on our business arrangement,” he stated, shifting on the lounge chair to find a more comfortable position.
“I hope that’s true. We have a lot riding on your word, and Abramovich is losing his patience. He’s not a very patient man, our president, you know that very well.”
“I need a little bit more time,” Myatlev replied, rubbing the headache away from his forehead. “I am very close to delivering an amazing gift to you both. I just need more time.”
“How much more time, Vitya? We’ve been waiting for months to see something happen, and we have nothing other than your promises.”
“I need precisely two-and-a-half months,” he pleaded. “Ten weeks, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Ten weeks to deliver what, Vitya? You never bothered to tell us and make a commitment. Right now, I am not sure I can continue to trust you. It is my head if you disappoint the man. Maybe yours too, but I care about mine a lot more.”
Myatlev considered his options. The caller, his lifelong friend Mikhail Dimitrov, sounded less like his friend and more like Russia’s minister of defense. A very powerful and dangerous person to have worried about his ability to deliver. Myatlev had a sound respect for anyone who could throw him into the depths of Siberia and forget him there. He decided to trust him a little more than he had planned.
“Misha, what if I tell you that in ten weeks I will deliver America?”
There was no answer for a couple of seconds.
“America? How can you deliver America, Vitya?”
“In ten weeks, our mutual friend, President Piotr Abramovich, will have America under his control. That is my promise to the both of you.”
...79
...Tuesday, August 30, 11:02AM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...ERamSys Headquarters—Fifth Floor Conference Room
...New Delhi, India
They were almost done enduring another PowerPoint presentation. Priya had talent, and her engagement and style of presenting made it almost enjoyable. The topic was “Steps in Scope Validation and User Acceptance,” instructing the DCBI team what to expect in closing the contract with ERamSys. All DCBI representatives were attending, including Scott and Brent, while Bal supervised from the most distant corner of the room without saying a word.
The contract was late in delivery. They should have taken ownership of the software by now and be long gone, back to their homes stateside. They were all eager to leave, yet they were told that at least two more weeks of testing and bug fixing were necessary. Very disappointing news. They all wanted to be gone, and Alex more than anyone wanted to get her hands on that software once and for all, to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was wrong with it. This constant delay, stonewalling, and passive-aggressive responses to everything they were asking for was driving her crazy. She wanted to scream. Instead, she topped her coffee cup from the machine, smiled toward Priya, and said, “Very interesting.”
Lou gave her a quick look, as to say “Really? At least don’t encourage them!” She smiled at him briefly and sat back in her chair, purposely ignoring Bal’s hateful gaze. Damn that guy, Alex thought, I am looking forward to the day I never see him again. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll end up in a very dark and forsaken place. Just maybe...A girl can dream, can’t she? Lost in her thoughts, she had let her eyes wander toward Bal, smiling widely, deep in her fantasy of never having to see him again because he was doing hard time in some horrible Indian prison somewhere. Bal grimaced in anger, and she turned her eyes away promptly. Now that was stupid, she admonished herself, a little self-control would do you a world of good.
Scott’s voice brought her back to reality.
“But my reports don’t indicate that,” he was saying. “Compilation time is off for software this size. It should be at least 50 percent lower.”
“Based on what?” Bal asked.
“Based on what software with this type of specification is supposed to do, if it runs in a stable environment, without issues writing on the database. It’s just taking too long to complete the step. I think we need to examine the software modules. Alex, can you help with that?” Scott asked, turning toward her.
“I’d be more than happy to,” she r
eplied, “as soon as Mr. Bal’s team gives us access to the code.”
Bal’s jaws clenched.
“The software is not ready yet. We’re still working our quality assurance and bug fixing. We cannot open access for you while the software is still being worked on,” he answered.
“What if you wrote us a copy of the complete software package on a separate server, so we can test it without stepping on your toes, would that work?” Alex asked. It wasn’t the first time she was asking for access. But if they could be passive aggressive, so could she. At some point in time, no matter how badly they were trying to avoid it, they had to hand over the software anyway. They were running out of time and options. They needed to find out what was hidden in it as soon as possible.
“That would be perfect,” Scott intervened. “That’s exactly how we were instructed to proceed and why Alex and Lou are here. They need to inspect the software line by line before we can sign off on it.”
“I understand,” Bal answered, “and I will make sure the DCBI team receives all needed support to be able to sign off on the code per your company’s procedures. Right now, we are simply not ready yet. Our reputation as one of the best software houses in the world is at stake here, I hope you understand.” Bal looked at Scott firmly, yet friendlier than how he usually looked at her.
Scott held Bal’s gaze, shrugging apologetically.
“I do, but I have to do my job. I have no choice.”
“Scott, it is almost lunchtime,” Bal said, sounding almost friendly, “will you do me the favor of joining me for lunch? I want to introduce you to the tastes of Dakshin, one of the best restaurants in our city.” He turned toward Alex and said, “I understand you two prefer to dine on your own?”
“Yes, we do,” Lou said, “thank you.”
...80
...Tuesday, August 30, 1:57PM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...ERamSys Headquarters—Main Entrance
...New Delhi, India
Alex and Lou arrived at the office building to find an ambulance pulled in front of the main entrance. The marked van had its back doors open, and the crew was exiting the building carrying someone on a stretcher. Alex jumped from the car before it had reached a complete stop and ran to the stretcher. She barely recognized the man writhing in pain, tied to the stretcher with crossties.
“Oh, my God, Scott, what happened?” She reached for his hand and held it tightly.
He gasped and tried to say something intelligible, but he couldn’t articulate. He moaned with pain, holding his belly; he wanted to curl up, but the ties wouldn’t let him. He mumbled some words she couldn’t understand. She turned to the crew.
“What’s wrong with him? What happened?”
“Seems to be a violent attack of cholera,” the young paramedic replied. “It can be very painful, but we’ve administered something for the pain, and we’re hydrating him. He’s got hemorrhagic diarrhea. We’re taking him to the hospital.”
Scott’s grip on her hand turned tighter, and she leaned over, trying to understand what he was saying.
“Arghhh...don’t...let...me...die...here,” he managed to say before passing out.
“I promise,” she whispered, holding his hand for a few more seconds. “I promise.”
“Please, ma’am, we have to go now,” the paramedic said in heavy-accented English.
“Where are you taking him?” Lou asked.
“To the Sir Ganga Ram Hospital,” he answered. “It’s the best in New Delhi,” he added, seeing how the hospital name didn’t mean much to them.
She let go of Scott’s hand.
“Go ahead,” she said. “We’ll be right behind you.”
They jumped into their Toyota and followed the ambulance through the busy city streets. The ambulance had the siren on, but no one cared. When they finally arrived at the hospital, almost an hour later, Alex was already at the van’s back doors as they opened. The same paramedic didn’t seem in a hurry anymore. She grabbed his forearm, feeling her stomach sink.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he uttered sadly, “there was nothing we could do. Your friend died ten minutes ago.”
Alex let go of his arm; she was paralyzed in shock. She turned slowly toward Lou and saw Bal’s car pull right behind theirs. Before Lou could stop her, she went straight to Bal, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and shoved him hard against his car door.
“You killed him!” Alex yelled. “You killed him, motherfucker, and if it’s the last thing I do, I will make you pay for it!”
Bal pushed her away, straightening his clothes. He was livid with anger.
“Know your place, woman,” he growled.
“Know my place? You arrogant piece of shit! How about your place?”
“Enough,” Lou intervened, grabbing her and leading her away from Bal. “Enough,” he whispered. “Remember why we’re here. You can’t go after him like that. You taught me that.”
She struggled to calm down. She was panting angrily, hands shaking and tears flowing freely on her face.
“They killed him,” she whispered into Lou’s shoulder as he continued to hold her. “Please tell me you know that.”
“Yes, I do know that, and we’ll make them pay, but not like this, not here, not today.”
...81
...Tuesday, August 30, 11:45PM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...Hotel Le Meridien
...New Delhi, India
As soon as the hotel room door closed behind them, Alex dropped the laptop bag on the floor and started pacing the room like a caged animal.
“I am sick and tired of this goddamn place. Sick of its smells and stupid heat. Sick of these assholes and their stonewalling. Sick of it all,” she said, struggling to control her tears. “They killed a man like he was nothing, Lou. Bal didn’t even flinch. I remember looking at him when he decided to take Scott for lunch. It was routine for him; it was nothing!”
Lou hooked up the Inmarsat to his laptop, getting ready to download the remaining module. He had found it, running his sniffer algorithm discreetly during the morning’s PowerPoint presentation, right under Bal’s eyes. The man’s all-consuming contempt for Alex made him focus solely on her, while Lou was able to execute the program sequences unnoticed.
“You need to calm down, boss,” he reminded her for the tenth time. “You can’t think straight like this. Why don’t you run the bug sweeper? Just to be sure?”
That gave her something to do to get her brain back into logical thinking. She sighed.
“Yep, I need to do that. How much longer with that code?”
“Just a couple of minutes, that’s all,” he said. “Then we’ll know.”
There were no bugs in this room, either.
“I got it, all of it,” Lou said, disconnecting the Inmarsat modem. “Let’s take a look.” She scrolled fast through the lines of code, looking for things that didn’t belong. “There’s something here. I almost missed it. This override component, here, you see?”
Alex looked at the code, trying to decipher how it would compile.
“I see it overrides the voter’s entry,” she said, “but under certain conditions and rules. What are the conditions? Which other modules do these conditions invoke?”
“Let’s see,” he said, starting to take notes on the notepad provided by the hotel. “The first condition calls the module that calculates the results every five minutes, by state. The second one, here, looks up the state where the vote is entered and returns a set of values. I need to open the module that does the state lookup.”
He browsed a little through the modules and found the one he was looking for.
“Ah, here it is. It’s got multiple lookups. One is a ‘type’ lookup, returning one of two values, ‘all,’ or ‘exception.’ The other one is defined as a ‘direction’ lookup, and returns ‘left,’ ‘right,’ and ‘center.’ Any idea what these might be?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied without hesitation. “The first one identifies ‘al
l-or-nothing’ states, where all electoral votes go where the majority of the popular votes go, and the other one identifies states by their political orientation, as in democratic, republican, and swing, or undecided. Interesting, keep going.”
Lou scribbled some notes on the notepad, then went back into the most recent module.
“OK, here we go. Then after getting the state lookup values, the module calculates a quantifier, like an adjustment factor. The calculation returns a numeric value between one and three, that gets applied to...Hmm...Not sure yet. Then here, it calls the randomizer module. Remember the one we found a few days ago and thought it was a leftover from other code? Nope, not a leftover, it’s called right here in two places.”
“Let me see,” Alex said, “OK, I think I got it. Let’s walk through it; let’s tell the story in the code. First, the malware module calculates the result by state, every five minutes. If democrat, the malware does exactly nothing, see?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“If republican, then the weirdness begins. It checks to see what kind of state the voter is in. If the voter’s in an all-or-nothing state, the malware knows it has to reach a certain majority. Then it looks up to see if the republican majority is happening in a republican state, then it can do one of three things. If it’s a strong republican state, the malware again does nothing. If it’s a swing state, it generates a multiplier. If it’s a democratic state, it generates another multiplier, slightly larger and influenced by the results it calculates every five minutes. That multiplier is a correction factor. The bigger the gap it has to correct, the larger the multiplier. Huh...”
She frowned, thinking hard and mumbling to herself unintelligible words, following the logic embedded in the code.
“Let’s see what it does with the correction factor,” Lou whispered, not taking his eyes off the screen.