Vitamin Sea

by Maia Ross

  “What is it?”

  “A 1955 Criss Craft Barracuda.”

  “Wow, that’s insanely old.”

  I kept my face neutral. It was not, in fact, insanely old.

  Don’t kill her. Don’t. It’s the middle of the day and it’ll make a mess.

  “There’s no chance you could take me for a spin or anything?”

  “I’m in a rush to get somewhere right now, but what if I took you and Charlotte out one day? She loves getting out on the water and it’s been a while.”

  “Oh, yeah, for sure. I’m literally insanely busy until the fundraiser anyway. And I’m staying at the estate, so you can just come get the both of us.”

  “How are the plans for the fundraiser going?”

  She smacked herself on the forehead so hard I was a bit worried she might have injured herself. But she emerged from the self-slap grinning even more broadly. I wondered if she was a bit addled.

  “I’m literally going crazy right now, you have no idea.”

  “That’s true,” I said, as I looped the bow line around the dock cleat and dropped it into the boat. “I literally have no idea.”

  She giggled.

  I cast off the bow line and turned on the engine. “Well, I’m off, Emily. Have a lovely afternoon.”

  “Oh, for sure, Mrs. A. I’ll see ya later.” She practically skipped back to the main pier.

  Odd girl. I decided to get Camille to run a background check on her as well, irritated with myself for not thinking of it before.

  I pointed my insanely old boat towards Boris and whatever he’d discovered.

  Seventeen—Violet

  The sun was hot on the back of my neck, uncomfortably so. I thought back to all the summer days I’d endured in the city, many of them so muggy I didn’t want to leave the house. And hadn’t. Why had I never gone out on the lake before? I couldn’t quite figure it out, although all the nausea probably told part of that story.

  I was feeling antsy, but excited. A lot was riding on what I was going to find today.

  “Hi, Violet,” Kendelle greeted me as I entered the chilled air of the clinic. She was wearing a nice collared shirt, a big smile, and some sort of tiny tiara. I’d given up trying to figure out the islanders’ sense of fashion. It really was a different world.

  “Morning,” I said, trying out an awkward smile. “I don’t know if Julian said anything, but I’m here to work on the new IV machines for a bit.”

  “Dr. Harper called and told me,” Kendelle said primly. “We’ve reverted to using the old IV stands, so it won’t cause any issues. Dr. Harris is in charge right now. I’ll go get her.”

  Minutes later, a young woman in purple scrubs came around the corner and smiled at me, Kendelle trailing her. “I’m Dr. Harris. You must be Violet.”

  “Yrhs,” I mumbled through the cupcake I’d picked up from Luna’s and thought I had enough time to eat. “Sorry.” I reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. “Yes, I’m Violet. I’m doing some—”

  She cut me off. “Julian told me all about it in an, er, enthusiastic text at about two in the morning.”

  I pinked. “Sorry. We had a late night.”

  “Don’t be. He works too hard and probably needed it.” She handed me a key card. “Just invite me next time, okay?” With a grin, she headed back down the same hallway.

  I wondered, briefly, if everyone on the island was so friendly. Not that Toronto wasn’t, it was just a different kind of friendly.

  “This way, please,” Kendelle said.

  I followed her to a storage room at the back of the clinic. After dropping my stuff off, I scooted out to go to the ladies’ room. In the hallway, I bumped into April Van Oot, the psychiatrist from Stu’s gardening section.

  Smiling, she said, “Nice to see you again, Violet. I hope your vacation is letting you get outside once in a while.”

  “I’m more of an inside girl, to be honest. So it’s all good.” I gave a rueful shrug.

  “Aren’t you doing the half-marathon with Irma?” April asked.

  “Uh, no. I hate running.” I shuddered.

  “You looked good at the 5k fun run last week.”

  “There was literally nothing fun about that run.”

  “I thought you did great.”

  “I passed out in a ditch.”

  “Well, no one’s perfect.”

  We grinned at each other.

  “I didn’t realize you worked out of the clinic as well,” I said.

  “I don’t actually; I have my own office around the corner. Just visiting a patient who’s been having some back issues.” April looked around. No one was near us, and she said quietly, “How is Charlotte?”

  “I haven’t seen her yet today. I hope she’s all right,” I said.

  “She’s a great lady.” Worry was stamped all over April’s face and I felt bad for her. “I’ll look in on her before I leave.” She said her goodbyes before backtracking to her patient’s room, which was further down the hallway.

  I took care of business and headed back to the store room and made myself comfortable. I had a terminal to sit at, a screwdriver set in my knapsack and another spectacular cupcake within reach. I was ready.

  The first thing I did was download the configuration from the first IV machine I got my hands on, IV04. I rerouted the config into a text file, the same as I’d done with the one from Stu’s. Then I ran a diff on the two config files; a lightweight Linux app that would show me if anything was different between the machines. After looking at the results, I cracked my knuckles and got started.

  Eighteen—Irma

  Frenchman’s Bay had a lovely pier, but I had no intention of docking on it. I needed to burn off some energy, so I decided to dock further out and hike in. Plus, Boris wouldn’t be expecting me from this direction.

  I sped to the island’s airstrip. It was lovely to open up my little speedboat without worrying about Violet’s lunch making a reappearance—bless her heart. The wind was in my hair, the sun was shining, the lake shimmered like it was jewellery. There was something magical about being on the water, about feeling the lake churn underneath you. Sometimes I felt like I’d never go back to land.

  But eventually, I had to; there was just no choice about it. Boris wasn’t someone you could necessarily trust, but he wasn’t someone you couldn’t not trust either. We’d helped each other out in the past when it suited us. And there shouldn’t be a specific reason he’d want to kill me these days. Hopefully.

  And I wanted to know what he’d found. It could be the first real lead I’d have, and the thought, along with the wind on my face, cheered me. The water slapped the hull and jostled me as I made a wide turn toward land. I fished out my marine radio and called up Luis Comacho, the airport master, to ask for a little help docking because of the wind.

  Luis was standing on the pier when I came in, his hands on his hips. He was wearing faded Levis and an old flannel shirt that had most likely been meticulously maintained, just like all the machines that came through his door. People came from all over to have him work on their vintage cars and boats. His hair was close-cropped, his honey-hued skin freckled and weather-worn. He smiled and waved as I puttered towards him.

  “Howdy, Irma. Nice day for it.”

  “It certainly is, Luis. How are you?” I threw my bow line. He caught it deftly and held it while I took hold of the stern line and jumped onto the dock. We both tied off and he gave me a hug. He smelled like motor oil and sun. Beside the dock, three float planes bobbed at anchor.

  “I’m mighty fine, thanks. You?”

  “Quite well.” We started walking.

  “Was there something I could do for you? Does your boat need any work?”

  “No thank you, Luis. I’m just going for a little walk.”

  He stopped and looked at me side-eyed. “All the way over here for a walk, huh?”

  “It’s a lovely day for it, just like you said.”

  Then he smiled widely, his cheeks rip
ening. “If you say so.” He threw me a wave and ambled back to his office. He’d always been good at not asking too many questions, which I’d obviously always appreciated.

  It was a fairly easy path, and the spot where I was meeting Boris was only about a mile through the forest, so I tried to enjoy my brisk walk there. The woods next to the airport were vast and owned by the town, which maintained it as greenbelt for everyone to enjoy. And now was the time of year when the nesting birds were the most active. We had a colony of birds that wasn’t found anywhere else in North America.

  The trail got a little steeper, but I just leaned into it. I could feel my heartbeat clanging cheerfully in my ears. I felt perfect; alive, healthy, purposeful. I was sure I was smiling.

  But then I heard an odd noise, and I stopped in my tracks before scuttling behind a shrubbery, adrenaline sizzling in my veins. I popped open my handbag and rooted around for my mini binoculars. And fumbled some more. Drat. I’d left them at home. Along with my gun. I really needed a bigger purse.

  In the distance, a twig snapped.

  I tried to calm my breathing. Would Boris have called me all the way out here—on Stu’s phone, a number I’d never even given him, no less—just to whack me on the head? Possibly, but it didn’t feel like him. He was a more elegant kind of man. A gentleman, almost. A gentleman who could strangle you in a minute flat, but still.

  I let out a deep breath, trying to calm myself even though I was trapped in a logistical nightmare. Some sections of these woods were fairly dense and it was impossible to see anyone coming until they were practically on top of you. I settled down in my shrubbery and waited. Waiting, of course, was not my best skill in civilian life, but when it came to safeguarding my own life—or that of innocents—I could wait with the best of them.

  I palmed my cellular and texted Stu that I was going to be a little late. Luckily, Annie had just braided some gum into his beard and that would occupy them for a while.

  What number did you get that call from? I texted him.

  Are you okay?

  Everything’s groovy, I texted back, verifying I wasn’t under duress by using our code phrase. Obviously, Stu had chosen it. I just need to call that number.

  Number was blocked.

  I tried not to get huffy about it. Civilians having their hands on technology that used to be reserved for pros was always vexatious, but I should have gotten that intel before making my way over here anyway. Truly, I wondered if I was slipping.

  But then I felt a pang of anger. When I was working, I’d had lovely help from our back-room analysts, from agency contacts, from a budget allowing me to do what I wanted. A magnificent brain trust vetted leads and siphoned off data for me.

  Here, I was alone. Not sure who to trust.

  My desire for good intel warred with my desire not to break a hip. There were no suitable climbing trees at all, and perhaps my tree-climbing days, along with my window-exiting ones, were over, which made a sour feeling bounce around inside me for a moment. I’d so loved climbing trees in my younger years.

  Snap.

  Another branch being crushed. Closer, this time. There was no way that was an animal. Especially since a man had just stepped out of the brush thirty feet away from me. A man who was examining something on the ground with an intensity that made the back of my neck go cold.

  Nineteen—Violet

  After going through all of the clinic’s IV stands, I was irritated, confused, and a little itchy from the chair I’d been sitting on. I’d been able to determine that two of the IV stands at the clinic had been factory reset and reconfigured with a fresh operating system sixteen days earlier, on May twenty-fourth, which meant that the IV machine they’d strapped to Scooter had most likely also been updated at the same time. Two of the stands hadn’t been touched at all.

  The diff I’d run between the configuration of the stand at Stu’s—IV03—and the machine in front of me had turned out to be a bit of a bust. I’d been hoping there would only be one file different between the two, and that it would contain a script that would help me unravel what had happened to Scooter. Instead, tons of files were different between the two systems, because the two machines were running completely different operating systems. Why would only some of the IV stands have an updated operating system and others not? Unless…

  I palmed my phone and called Julian.

  “Hey, you,” he said warmly when he picked up.

  “Got a sec?”

  He made a rueful noise. “I have no pressing engagements right now. I’m taking a few days off.”

  “Cool. Look, I’m at the clinic. And there’s something I have to ask you. Did you have some kind of maintenance done on May twenty-fourth?”

  There was a pause. “No. The last time Medicil came in was….” Some background noise erupted, then fell away. “Back in April. April twenty-sixth. They’re due for another visit soon.”

  “Okay, well, hold off for now.”

  “Why? What did you find?”

  “Two of the IV stands currently at the clinic are running an old OS—the same version that the one at Stu’s is running—and two were completely reconfigured and factory reset on May twenty-fourth. How long has that machine been at Stu’s shop?”

  “Over a month, I think. He’s been busy.”

  “Right, so that explains why it wasn’t tampered with. Somehow, at least two of the IV machines at your clinic were reconfigured in late May. And if nobody did any authorized maintenance at that time, I’m sorry to tell you, you’ve been hacked.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. And I didn’t feel so bad myself.

  “You’re sure none of these machines are in use anymore?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. A message has gone out to all staff, and everybody has to check out the IV units from the front desk right now.”

  “Perfect. I still need to find the malicious code or application, but I’m much closer than I was. And I have an appointment with a sales guy from Medicil in like five minutes.”

  “I thought they won’t talk to us?”

  “To you, no. But they think I work for a clinic in the Yukon. And it’s a sales meeting, not a tech one. I just need a few questions answered and to get access to their testing environment.” I didn’t add that I wasn’t anxious about conversing with a stranger. I’d be lucky to get a word in edgewise with a tech salesperson.

  “Uh…okay.”

  “I need to compare the configuration of the updated IV stands at your clinic to other machines running the exact same version of the operating system. Then I’m going to figure out what’s different between them. That’s how we’ll know exactly what really happened.”

  “So you’re going to try to emulate what was going on with IV03?”

  “Exactly. Have you had a chance to look at Scooter’s medical records from that day?”

  “Oh, yeah! I looked into that this morning. All the normal admissions data, his vital statistics, etc. were all recorded. Nothing from his IV stand made it into the records at all.”

  “Wow.” I sat back in my chair. “That’s actually good.”

  “What? This is a nightmare.”

  “No, it’s going to be okay. We’re halfway there. That kind of behaviour might indicate that the program on the IV stand was blocking that data transfer. Look, is it going to bug you if I bring one of these units home?”

  “Uh…no. Go nuts.”

  “Perfect.” I tried to gather my thoughts.

  “Violet, what do you think it means that only some of the IV stands were updated?”

  “I think it means whoever is responsible for all this didn’t have access to all of them.”

  “Like a patient.”

  “Right, or a visitor.”

  He sighed heavily. “We’re never going to figure this out.”

  “Don’t give up. This is good news. And I love a challenge.”

  We hung up just as Max texted me: No word from the bank yet.

  I let the frustration
move through me. Of course, there was no word from the bank. Banks were never on the little guy’s side, even if you were a business. Both Max and I had spent our younger years at a series of tech startups that were overly focused on aggressive expansion, badly behaved alpha nerds, and crushing workloads. I barely remembered my twenties. I’d wanted something different for the rest of my life. And up until recently, I thought I’d achieved that, even though it had been hard as hell to get there.

  I tried to calm down before getting on my call with the sales rep from Medicil. I was going to have to suffer through a probably not short pretend-conversation in order to get access to their virtualization testbed. Because the software running on the IV stands was proprietary, I couldn’t just spark up a virtual machine on my laptop and emulate the same environment to carry out my testing.

  That was okay. I was so very close, and I had enough patience to see this through. I called Irma to give her an update, but it went to voicemail. I frowned. I hoped she wasn’t doing anything reckless.

  I cracked my fingers, ready to get started.

  But then the fire alarm went off.

  Twenty—Irma

  Frankly, I was not thrilled about all the recent odd happenings on my sleepy little island. I needed my town and everyone in it to be safe, especially since I was now retired and out of the game. I took a minute to smell the nasturtiums blooming near my little lair, to try to centre myself.

  The man was too far away to identify, but his shoulders were tensed in a way that made adrenaline pulse through me.

  I watched him for a while from my perch. Granted, if it was Boris, this was a terrible place to assassinate someone. But we were about half a mile from Frenchman’s Bay, and if we were having a little communications snafu—

  “Irma?” Boris called out and I held my breath. I’d been counting on being able to spot him first if I came from this direction, so I’d probably been stomping around like an Albanian clog dancer.

  Bugger. I stepped back from my shrubbery, stumbling a little. I could feel my hair being tugged out of place and I patted it down as well as I could, but as I stepped out of my hidey-hole, I noticed a nasturtium bud stuck in my hair. I tilted my head, the flower fell in my mouth, and I ate it. “Afternoon, Boris.”