“How much money are we talking?”
“I haven’t a clue,” he told him, shaking his head slowly. “This doesn’t deal with specific accounts. At the same time this program is executing, the systems are cranking out batch jobs a dozen at a time. There’s money, in bits and bytes, flying all over the place. You have to remember – the systems are processing data for month-end close. Most banks crank out statements, dividend sheets, all kinds of things, so everything’s wide open, if you’re on the inside. And their virus code is definitely on the inside.”
“And the money’s going into the accounts we discovered?”
“You got it,” Robert said confidently. “Not all the money. I mean, the code isn’t totally draining the accounts, but randomly applying a percentage ranging between roughly 16 and 60 percent. The randomness prevents a pattern from being detected. The code is set to trigger at a quarter ‘til midnight just before the new year. The first line of execution disables all event logging, so any transactions that happen after that are never recorded, then it starts moving funds randomly, hitting every account in the system for the next thirteen and a half minutes. Do you know how much money can be diverted in that time?”
“As much as they want, I’d imagine.”
“Right,” Robert agreed. “But it doesn’t stop there. The program actually quits ninety seconds before twelve. Right after that, another subroutine kicks in that creates an automatic wire transfer to another bank. They changed encryption methods at that point and I haven’t been able to determine the name of the bank or the account number. But it appears they are going to wire all the funds that have accumulated into that new account, except for a few dollars to make it look legitimate, and divert it elsewhere. Of course, since the log files are disabled, the sending bank will have no record of it. The receiving bank will have a log entry for the transaction, but it won’t initiate any alarms. Automatic wire transfers happen all the time overnight, so what’s another one? Money is transferred between corporate and private users, and banks also wire money to one another during the night, and the amounts can be staggering. The receiving bank account has to be set up ahead of time.”
“Then what?” Kyle asked, his face closer to the screen, his attention heightened.
“This is where I start speculating a little bit. I’ve unscrambled the code, but I’m not sure I understand it fully. It appears to me that once a successful wire transfer occurs, which is almost instantaneous, it kicks in one final piece of code. This last piece is more like a real computer virus. It starts scrambling account numbers, dates, times, existing log files, sort of like throwing everything in a blender on high for a few seconds. Once it’s done, the last line of execution runs.”
“And what does that do?”
“It erases itself from the system, like it was never there in the first place. When the bankers see what happened, they will assume code problems, or maybe a cyber terrorist attack of some kind.”
Kyle leaned back in the chair, his mind feeling clouded and hazy. He had suspected all along money would be diverted and the transaction log disabled, and even mentioned the wire transfer theory to Norm, but he never imagined it would involve so much money, or that the systems would be virtually wiped out after all was said and done.
“That’s not it,” Robert said solemnly.
“There’s more?”
Robert quietly nodded.
“What?” Kyle asked.
Robert took a breath and explained. “I found something even Charlie didn’t likely know about. Just before Carmen arrived, I logged into our systems at Allied. I wanted to check on a couple of other customers’ code, and verify my progress. So, I checked our largest customer’s code and found they had one extra virus routine that none of the others had.”
“What does it do?”
“It executes something.”
“A program?”
“No, not a program. It’s only a few bytes long and I almost missed it. It’s a piece of embedded code that executes something at a specific memory location.”
“And what’s at that location?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to be on the customer’s production system in order to find that out. Our system doesn’t have anything at that location. It was unallocated space. So, when that piece of code executes, expect something to be there. The question is, what?”
Kyle buried his face in his hands, rubbed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
“Should we tell Carmen?” Robert asked.
“Should we tell Carmen what?” a voice said from behind.
Kyle turned. Carmen had just walked in with her suitcase, closing the door behind her. He turned back to Robert and whispered quickly, “put a boot password on the notebook and don’t leave it on when you’re not around. Use the same password Charlie had on his files.”
“Tell me what?” Carmen repeated, walking over to them.
Kyle stood. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a seat by the table in the living area. “Talk.”
Kyle sat across from her as Robert watched quietly in the background. “What’s Norm told you so far?”
Carmen dedicated the next couple of minutes reciting what Norm had revealed to her, including Kyle’s own suspicions about what was going on and his distrust of Rudy Kain. When she finished, Kyle cast a glance toward Robert, then returned his eyes to Carmen.
“What’s your take?” he asked her.
“Same as Norm,” she said. “I believe a crime is about to be perpetrated and we have to stop it, but the theory of a worldwide card for everyone is rather far-fetched.”
“National,” Kyle corrected.
“Whatever, it’s still out in left field. I’m not saying there aren’t government agencies out there that would like a card of this type in place. I mean, hell, it would help the FBI tremendously in dealing with crime. It was even proposed again, after 9/11. But I guarantee the government wouldn’t steal private funds from the American people.”
“They already do," Robert interjected with a smile, "it’s called taxes.”
Kyle couldn’t help but grin. If Carmen found it amusing, she didn’t show it.
“What were you going to tell me?” she said, her arms folded, patiently waiting.
“We’ve found proof that someone is indeed planning to steal money from bank accounts when phase one of HSI comes online.”
She leaned forward, her attention piqued. “What kind of proof?”
“Robert took over where Charlie left off and figured it out.”
Carmen stood, heading for the phone.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked, standing up and following her.
“I have to call this in and get federal agents on it right away.”
“Wait a second,” Kyle said, then quickly ran ahead of her and blocked the phone. “Don’t you think that’s a little premature? You don’t even know who’s behind all this.”
“Yeah, so I make a phone call and we start looking.”
“You’re going to have a ton of agents down here and scare whoever the hell these people are away. They’ve got the code in place and apparently the only reason they’re hanging around is to protect their investment. They can easily catch a plane anywhere and wait it out, hoping the problem doesn’t get fixed. And they’d probably be right.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Carmen said, apparently open to Kyle’s ideas, at least on the surface.
Kyle waited for a second, thinking, looking into her eyes, searching for some glimmer of trust. “I’m scheduled to meet with these people tomorrow.”
“What people?”
“The ones who killed Charlie and planted the virus.”
The surprise on her face registered immediately. “What?”
“It’s true.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because I have something on them.”
“They’ve already threatened you and your family,” Carmen pointed out while Robert listened,
enthralled.
“And now I’m threatening them. I have evidence that can bring them to their knees.”
“Where are you meeting? I can have half a dozen agents standing by.”
“I don’t think so,” Kyle said. “That would be a bad idea.”
“A bad idea to have protection? A bad idea to catch these guys red handed?”
Kyle sat on the bed and waited for Carmen to do the same. “Norm told you I believe there’s someone on the inside, right? If you call, I’m as good as dead, and maybe even my mother and sisters.”
Robert had a curious look on his face, but let it go.
“You think they’re going to just let you walk away tomorrow?” Carmen asked, her opinion very clear.
“Why not? I told them if anything happens to me, they get exposed.”
“Then why meet with them?”
“A hunch.”
“About what?”
Kyle sat silent for a long time.
“About what, Kyle?” Carmen repeated.
He ignored the question. “You can go with me tomorrow and then you’ll see.”
“Go where?”
“You’ll know tomorrow.”
“No, you’ll tell me now or I’ll have every agent down here in the next 30 minutes.”
“Fine,” Kyle said. “Go right ahead.”
Carmen stood up, walked past him and lifted the receiver, gazing down at Kyle who sat calmly on the bed. She punched in numbers on her phone. From his seat on the bed, Kyle heard someone answer. Carmen looked at Kyle, then spoke into the receiver. “Sorry, wrong number.” She laid it to rest back on the cradle.
“Okay,” she said, “but at any time, at my discretion, I’ll pull the plug and call in reinforcements. Do you understand me?”
Kyle was taken aback by her grit and determination, but nodded in agreement just the same. She returned to her seat. Kyle stood and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Carmen asked.
“I’ll be at the front desk. I need a key to the room.” He turned to Robert. “Call down ahead of me so I can pick it up. While I’m gone you can show Carmen the proof we just discussed.”
“Sure,” Robert said.
“Oh, and if you two want, go ahead and call room service for yourselves. I’ll take care of the tab.”
A smiled crossed Robert’s face.
____________
It was just after eleven when Kyle emerged from the bedroom suite, slowly and quietly closing the door behind him. Carmen had pulled out the sofa bed and put the covers and pillows over it. Sitting on the edge, she looked over at Kyle. He gazed back at her for a brief moment. She had long auburn hair, mostly straight, and a beautiful smile. That is, when she smiled, which he counted about two times.
“I gave Robert the bed,” he said. “He’s been working non-stop. I’ll take the chair.”
She nodded. “I would get another room, but that would defeat the purpose.”
“It’s fine,” Kyle said, keeping his voice low. “I’ve fallen asleep in my chair at home a lot. My dog Sammy usually wakes me up.”
She smiled, and there it was. Straight, perfect white teeth, soft green eyes. He plopped down in the chair, taking a deep breath and hoped she didn’t notice his gaze in her direction.
“What kind of dog?” she asked. She pulled herself onto the mattress, leaned against the back of the sofa bed and adjusted the pillows to get more comfortable.
“Golden Retriever,” he said, then pulled the coffee table over to rest his feet across the top. “He’s a good boy, but scared of noises and stuff. He’s at my sister’s house now.” He let out a sigh, feeling his muscles go limp as he sunk deeper into the plush chair. “And you? Do you have a dog?”
She shook her head. “Naw. Gone too much.”
Kyle nodded. “I guess so, huh. Charlie’s family had a cat…has a cat. They saved him.”
“I don’t have a cat either,” Carmen said, a sly grin on her face. “This must be small talk.”
Kyle laughed, his eyes halfway shut. His lids felt so heavy. He hadn’t been sleeping much and it was catching up to him. “I suppose.”
“Tell me more about the virus and what you expect tomorrow?”
Kyle shook his head slowly, his eyes closing completely. “Not tonight. I’d just like to forget it for a moment.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“Your name,” Kyle said. “It sounds familiar.”
“Carmen?”
“No, Jernigan. You mind telling me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell,” she said. “I live alone. Don’t really date all that much. I work lots of hours.”
“I know that feeling,” Kyle agreed, opening his eyes and looking in her direction. “We’ve put in tons of hours lately. Any brothers? Sisters?”
There was a moment of silence, hanging in the air like the question was never asked, then she answered. “No. Just me.”
“Why the FBI?” Kyle said, still making small talk.
“Why did I become an agent?”
“Yeah.”
“My father was an agent, as a matter of fact. He was a good one. He died when I was about 16. He was gone some, not too much, because he was a single dad. I spent many days and nights with Jean, Norm’s wife, usually when my father was gone, and Norm typically was as well. They’re pretty much…” Her voice drifted off, distant, as if she was searching for the words and they weren’t coming. “…well, they are my family. My mom left my dad when I was very young. After my dad passed away, Norm and Jean let me live with them…”
“Where’d you live?” Kyle interrupted.
“We were in Virginia at the time.”
Kyle sat up straight, his eyes wide open, looking over at her intently. “Oh my gosh, I remember.”
Carmen looked puzzled. “Remember what?”
“Your father. I met your father. The night before our family moved to Albuquerque. He was there. He helped me.”
Carmen smiled. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not,” Kyle said, excited. “I remember him. He was nice. I think his name was Mark. He made things easier on me. He’s the one who gave me my new name.”
She sat silent for a moment, her gaze distant, lost in some far-off place. Kyle stared at her, pondering. At this moment, she was more than just an FBI agent. A tear appeared at the corner of her eye as she swallowed hard. “That’s my dad,” she choked out.
Kyle smiled, staring off into the distance trying to recall the details, then back to her. “There was some disturbed agent who was giving me a hard time that night and your dad…oh my gosh…your dad…he put that guy in his place but good. The last thing he told me was that everything was going to be alright.” Kyle hesitated, looking at her with a faint smile, the memory fresh in his mind. “And, eventually, it was.”
Carmen beamed, the tear now traveling slowly down the side of her cheek. “He was such a great father.”
“He mentioned you,” Kyle added. “He told me he had a daughter about my age. It was you.”
She smiled at him.
Kyle continued. “I asked him why he was being so nice. I mean, the other agents, they just weren’t that way. He said because he had a daughter and he knew if something ever happened to him, it would be overwhelming for her. For you.”
A second tear sped down her cheek to her neck and she abruptly wiped it away with the covers.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I liked your dad very much.”
Carmen nodded slowly, looking down at the sheet. “This is definitely strange,” she said, looking back up at him, regaining her composure. “Anyway, umm…where was I…oh, yeah, Norm and Jean let me live with them, then, when I graduated college, it seemed natural to apply at the bureau.” She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, then continued. “The FBI was on this kick about equal opportunity and the door was wide open to qualified women, even as field agents. With Norm’s influence and my father’s reputation, I was acc
epted almost immediately.”
Kyle rose, with a small grunt he climbed out of the comfortable chair, headed for the closet, and grabbed a pillow and the one remaining blanket. He walked back to the chair, removed his shoes, then resumed his seat, covering up a bit. He looked over at Carmen once again, who seemed deep in her thoughts. Kyle worried he had triggered painful memories, but as it was, he felt closer to her knowing her dad was Mark. “I like Norm, too,” Kyle said finally.
“Yeah,” Carmen said, “me too.”
“He reminds me of your dad. I think he’s looking out for me.”
Carmen smiled. “So am I, goof.”
Kyle chuckled a little. “I guess so.”
“I’m sorry about your dad too, Kyle. And Charles.”
Kyle nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
Carmen rose, went into the bathroom for a bit, leaving Kyle alone in the living area. He didn’t hear a peep out of Robert in the bedroom; he’d zonked out straightaway. Kyle heard her in the bathroom, running the water, brushing her teeth, followed by a few other clinks and clanks before she was back in the room, turning the lamps out. The room went dark with only the soft glow of the city lights drifting in from the window, creating a pleasant ambience. The muffled sounds of tires on asphalt swooshed continuously in the night from nearby Interstate 25. He gazed at Carmen’s silhouette as she glided across the carpet to the sofa bed, pulled the covers back, then climbed underneath. Even in the dim light, Kyle could tell she was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, nothing close to a negligee or even a modest nightgown. He wasn’t sure, but thought he saw her slide a gun under her pillow.
“Kyle?” she echoed softly in the dark. “Are you still awake?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever wonder what life would be like if your dad…you know, if he had lived?”
Kyle took his time to answer, then softly said, “All the time.”
“Me too,” she said. “He planned on retiring early, for my sake. But he never got the chance.”
“If you don’t mind, what happened to him?”
There was a long silence, the street noises filling the room. “He was on an assignment; you know, taking down some bad guys. There happened to be a case of money and weapons in the room they raided. He was carrying the case to his car when he was ambushed. They killed him over stupid money.”
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