by J. N. Chaney
I didn’t know. But I had a flash of inspiration.
It took a few hours of digging on the network, but my hunch paid off. Maevik’s situation gave me the idea and I had to run down the details to confirm it was possible. I sent Evelyn a message that night then headed over, hoping she would be ready for me.
As I approached the Cascade Gardens, I saw that she was waiting for me by the stoop, cigarette in hand. I gave her a cheerful wave, a bit too excited. I tried to calm down as I crossed the park.
“We’ll talk inside,” she said as she snuffed out the cigarette.
As usual, I gathered the butt as she opened the door.
Once we were inside the apartment, she sat in the wingback chair. “Alright, tell me what you have that’s worth interrupting me at this hour.”
I noticed that she hadn’t removed her coat at the door as she usually did. She also had a bit of the scent of wine on her. “You’ll want to get your data pad and take notes. It isn’t a simple solution,” I explained.
She perked up at that. “Go make us some tea in the kitchen.”
It was an odd request. I had never been further into her apartment than the sofa I was sitting on. I did as instructed and walked into the kitchen. The kettle and cups were in plain sight, so I did the preparation. I could hear her entering and then exiting and resealing her bedroom.
I took the tea back to the living area and sat in my usual spot. She was ready with her data pad.
“There are three major components to the plan,” I said.
She fixed me with her half smile. “Oh, nothing more elegant and one trick beats all?”
Her words expressed mockery, but her tone was one of admiration. “The three steps cover the major issues of entrance, guard patrols, and security bypass needed to get in and out cleanly.”
She nodded. “Drink your tea and walk me through it slowly.”
I poured myself a cup and continued on. “The most important part is the infiltration route. Nothing was working when I tried to plot a path through any of the known entrances. The front door was an immediate problem; we wouldn’t even get through the outer bunker into the complex proper. The roof access only got us to the sixth floor. Service entrances ended with us being picked off and only hitting the fourth floor at best.”
She nodded and traced her finger over her pad, following my logic.
“I was puzzled by part of the construction of the basement into the sub-basement. These spaces are irregular in shape to the floors above. That meant they were built at a different time than the rest of the complex, apparently as part of a shelter years ago. A disused sewer line once connected to them but was walled off when the new complex was built.”
She lit up at that.
“I sent you an updated schematic with the sewer line,” I said.
She accessed the plan and her smile grew. “Well well.”
“It would take weeks to dig through the rock,” I continued. “It’s only fifty feet, but any drilling will arouse suspicion except for an hour between three and four when the maintenance team runs a check on their seismograph. While the system is calibrating, they won’t register any of the vibrations. Guards also check the entrances to the sewer line before and after the calibration. A driller would need to be down there for as much as ten hours for each hour of drilling to avoid detection.”
She made some notes. “And the other two steps of your solution?”
“To create as many windows of opportunity to defeat the security inside, you would need to starve out the supplies of the maintenance teams. This means cutting payment flow high enough up the chain that it started interfering with compensation for the workers and the suppliers. This will upset the maintenance teams and force work with inadequate supplies and parts.”
Again, Evelyn beamed as she wrote down information. “So that anything that went down when someone accessed the box, they wouldn’t know if it was intruders or typical problems. Interesting.”
I gave a slight nod. “The third part is to find the catering companies bringing food into the complex. Introducing some contaminated ingredients into the food will infect most of the workers with low-level illnesses a day after the sabotage. This will limit overall response times and cause confusion during the aftermath. The complex would be upset at the catering company but won’t be able to prove anything connected to a third party.”
Evelyn looked through the information she had written. “Very good, Alphonse. I almost thought you were going to be stumped by this one. Color me impressed.”
I sighed. The relief from the days of work in coming up with such a difficult series of solutions had weighed on me even more than I thought. “So that was the answer?” I asked.
Evelyn looked at the pad and back at me. “Of course. Yes, can’t slide anything past you. Now I’ve got to get back to some other matters. Return to your room and I’ll contact you again soon.”
I headed to the door, expecting her to follow, but she was still busy with the pad. So I let myself out.
18
I spent the next three days putting my plan for Canton in place. The first part was going to be the most difficult, so I saw to it quickly.
Manson and Gil had been meeting me at the track after classes most afternoons. It was good exercise, which we needed, but it was also a kind of informal and unspoken “remember Vance” group.
I wasn’t surprised to hear Gil talking in his excited, unrestrained clip while Manson interjected surly warnings in between. The subject of their banter: Canton’s imminent poisoning.
“Botulism,” Gil stated. “It’s so easy. We can get some from all sorts of places. They use it for like, medical things. It will look like he’s just into that stuff.”
“Not so loud, idiot,” Manson warned him.
They came around the corner, where I was already done with my stretches and prepped to run. “Botulism toxin also can cause death. So, no.”
Gil shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what’s deadly and what’s just bad?”
Manson sighed and tugged on his shoes. “We learned in chem class. Pay attention, man.”
Gil looked shocked. “I only remember the useful stuff. How to make fuel and smells and explosion. Y’know? Useful.”
I jogged in place, impatient to get started. “We shouldn’t poison him with anything.”
Gil bounced around Manson and got up close to me. “What you mean? Do nothing?”
Manson stood up and did a few half-hearted stretches. “He didn’t say do nothing, just no poisoning.”
Gil bounced back to get in Manson’s space. “That’s nothing, isn’t it?”
Manson stepped past the exuberant youth and started into a lap. “It’s different, but it sounds dumb. We gotta do something, Alphonse.”
I ran along with him and Gil quickly caught up and got in front of us. “There are other ways to get to Canton. Look, if he gets ill, that can be an excuse he will use to explain failing his classes.”
Manson struggled to speak through his usual wheezing. “Oh yeah. We want him to fail. Get him kicked out or held back. Man, that’s embarrassing.”
Gil did a circle around us in joy. “Can you imagine his face? That would be crucial. How you going to make that happen?”
“I’m working on it. I just need you two to calm down and stop loudly discussing poisoning. There will be a part for you to play. Just give me some more time.”
They exchanged a glance. “Okay, Alphonse. We trust you. Do Vance proud.”
Gil chimed in with the last word. “Just make sure we’re there to see it.”
We finished our run and I headed back to my room to shower and change. As I closed my door, I saw that I’d received a message from Evelyn. She wanted me to meet up with her at Winston’s apartment.
I arrived and Evelyn was already inside when I knocked. “I take it this is a job call?” I asked as she opened the door.
She was dismissive and just busied herself, tidying bits of Winston’s usua
l mess and saying nothing. Evelyn had never been very talkative, but today was different. Something about her breathing and the lack of eye contact made me wonder if she had something on her mind.
Before I could ask, there was another knock at the door, and Evelyn waved me to answer it. I did, revealing Remi on the other side. He quickly slipped in and cleared his throat. “No Winston?” he said without looking.
“I just arrived. I figured he was out doing an errand,” I remarked.
Evelyn put down a discolored throw pillow. “Yes. Winston will be out for a few weeks. He’s doing some personal things and I’m looking after his place.” She slapped the pillow a few times and watched a spray of dust come out. “Somebody clearly needs to.”
Remi sidestepped the dust cloud and stood along the wall near the door. “Fine. What are we dealing with today?”
Evelyn stopped pretending to cough in the dust cloud she had created and picked up a data pad. “You two are going on a quick smash and grab at a personnel staffing office.”
Remi nodded. “No prep work, just in and out?”
Evelyn laughed. “I may have overstated the smashing part. You’ll be making a return to your Klemtite Essentials silent working duo personas. The building is uptown, past the financial center but well east of the Union dispatch station. I don’t like to put you too close to previous areas.”
Remi remained expressionless. I was annoyed that nothing sounded exciting or challenging. Routine sounded like something that didn’t need or interest me. I would rather spend time working on the Canton plan.
She seemed to sense our disinterest. “Before you two professionals get all sullen on me, there is a catch.” She projected a picture above her pad. “This is the new Chrysalis door we’ve been hearing about. The building just installed them. Just like the previous models, they require special isotope keys to open. As an improvement, they also require that key to synchronize with ELF frequencies within designated key holders.”
Remi frowned. “How are we supposed to get through that?”
Evelyn laughed. “False I.D.’s have already been made. You are Klemtite’s best security officers, trying to show that Chrysalis is wrong to home in on their biometrics market share. At least, that’s why you’re in the building.”
I filled in the blank. “So, if we do get caught, we’re just two workers. No harm. Except that we may have to lose the identities.”
She nodded.
Remi remained unconvinced. “How is the kid supposed to pass himself off as a security professional?”
“Oh, that’s the best part, Remi. He’s your trainee. And if anyone can see a flaw in the design, it will be Alphonse.”
Remi pulled the Klemtite Essentials van up to the service entrance and we got out. The building was a solid tower, one of several in the area. Unlike the financial district buildings, which often had a lot of glass and odd external architecture to show off the wealth of the companies inhabiting them, this was rather plain.
I fetched the usual gear bag from the back and Remi strapped on his tool harness. We entered the lobby and met the security inside. There were two guards at the desk, along with a business representative from Chrysalis Motivations. He had all the earmarks of a middle manager: the fidgety hand and slicked back hair, the eyes trying to look for an angle but just moving too much. He greeted us as we entered.
“Welcome to our little test, gentleman and . . . assistant.”
His glance at me confused, as if he was expecting two people, but not the two he was seeing. For a moment, I was concerned that we were going to get caught before we got started.
He kept going after his delay. “You are here to try and breach the offices on the fourteenth floor. These belong to a staffing company that has recently acquired some high-end Union service contracts and needs to prove they have the security to defend their information.”
He paused again and reached out to shake our hands, first reaching for me and making a show of reaching down for my hand despite the fact that I was, at best, four inches shorter than him. Then he shook hands with Remi, and I saw recognition. There was more going on in the moment than was being spoken.
“Now. Your job here is also to do your best for Klemtite Essentials. It goes without saying that Chrysalis Motivations is counting on you failing to show the superiority of their new product.”
He concluded his boisterous introduction by turning around and leading us to the elevator. We stopped outside and he punched a button to call the car. “We’ll be down here waiting.” He gestured to the two guards. “We won’t be monitoring the floor with cameras. Klemtite was adamant that no recordings or monitoring of your intrusion devices could be made.”
The car arrived and we got in.
Before the doors shut, the manager made a final statement. “We’ll be up quickly to let you out when you fail. You can try any trick you want. Use everything you have hiding up your sleeves, but Chrysalis Motivations knows that our tech is unbeatable.”
The doors closed and the elevator ascended. I looked to Remi. “Do you think they actually won’t record us?”
He considered for a moment. “Corporations have some heft to protect their tech. It’s possible. I say always act like you’re being watched. It’s the only real way to go.”
The elevator stopped and we exited into an antechamber. In front of us was the Exquisite Staffing and Personnel office. The stylization on the first letter of each word, in combination with the color, gave me the impression they wanted to convey the acronym ESP for the company. It was smart branding. It was easier to say and remember and it allowed them to imply they had a “sixth sense” about staffing needs. I imagined they must have advertisements with those exact words in them.
The front doors were meant to be opened during business hours and led only to an outer office. Remi worked the clicker and had the door open before I had finished all of my initial observations. We entered the outer office and saw that we had a choice of two impressive versions of Chrysalis Motivation’s signature door.
The one on the left had a keypad next to an almost archaic-sized keyhole. The algorithm controlled when the door could be opened, and the keyhole was the entrance to the isotope lock.
The one on the right had only a flat black panel in the middle of the door with two small circular indentations about a hand’s width apart.
The doors were recessed down hallways about eight feet. Remi gestured to the ceiling, and I saw that recessed bulkheads waited to slide down and trap us if we failed to access the doors. My research on Chrysalis suggested this was the way things worked, but it was interesting to see confirmation of the deep network theories.
I shrugged and pointed left and then right.
Remi nodded and pointed to the door on the right first. He took the gear bag from me and winked as he headed to the left door.
I took up position at the panel on the right door while Remi stood at the panel on the left. He pulled out a few tools from the bag. Nonsense tools, from the looks of it. Nothing he produced would disrupt the algorithm or let him pick the isotope lock. At best, they might let him cut through the door in a few days, assuming nothing broke or shorted on him.
He saw me watching him and gave me a stern look, then he gave me the signal for eyes forward and pointed at my door. A moment later, he sparked up a cutting torch and the bulkhead on his side slammed shut.
At a loss for how to proceed, I worked my way through the conversation with the manager in the lobby below. He seemed to be telling Remi something. For that brief moment, they also acted like they had seen each other before, or at least knew a call sign to recognize each other. His parting words were incongruous with the rest of his language. I checked my own sleeve.
There was a small metal strip there. I pulled it out and found that it opened. Inside was a small patch meant to be attached to the wrist, so I pressed it on and then placed my thumb and pinky on the indentations on the panel. The door slid open. I walked by and it slid into p
lace behind me.
Now in the inner office, but devoid of any tools, I started hunting around for the ID card. There were several desks, all empty, and a row of filing cabinets against the wall. I inspected the filing cabinets and found that each of them had a panel similar to the one on the door. Again, I pressed my thumb and pinky into the indentations, and one after another, the cabinets opened. I found the target ID, put it in my jumpsuit, and ran back to the hallway. Another touch took me back through the prototype door and into the outer office. I made it to the sealed bulkhead that was trapping Remi in time for the security guards and manager to emerge from the elevator.
The guards were smiling, but the manager was practically giddy. I hadn’t removed the device from my wrist, so I put my hand deep in my pocket and did my best to look caught and upset.
They came into the outer office and were audibly laughing. The manager pointed to me. “I wish we had been able to record you. The look on your face when that bulkhead came down and separated you. Oh boy. I’m surprised you didn’t wet yourself.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Oh, don’t be like that. Fine, just keep your hands in your pockets and touch nothing while we get your dad out.”
The other guards were working on punching in the code and keying open the door. “Stand back, kid. No reason for you to get exposed to this.” The other guard opened a metal box on his belt and pulled out a large key. He fitted it into the lock and turned, and the bulkhead slid away.
Beyond it, Remi was doing his best to look scared and surprised. He was also trying to shove tools into the gear bag and cover what he had been using at the same time.
“Don’t bother,” said one guard. “Nothing you have there worked. Who cares if we see it?”
“I take my work seriously,” Remi said in an unaffected tone. “I’m not letting you take our secrets.”
The guards laughed again. “The only secret here is you’re going to be out of a job when your whole company goes down. Chrysalis has the edge now.”