White Cell

by B Regan Asher

  After Mintz had finished with the newspapers, he turned to an unassuming brown document at the corner of his desk. He picked it up and began reading it. It was the investigation he had ordered from an independent agency. As he read through it he was surprised how closely it paralleled the report from the original investigation. He picked up his phone and dialled the number.

  “You asked for the results of the second investigation,” said Mintz. “I have it now.” As he continued speaking he paused every once in a while to listen to the response from the other end of the line. “Yes, it’s in front of me now … Yes, I agree … I’m very concerned … Fine.”

  ***

  Jim had spent much of the night before completing his investigation of the politician. He had copied the data onto a diskette, planning to summarise the data for Verde at work the next morning.

  Unfortunately, he slept through his alarm and arrived at work over an hour late. He did his best to sneak into his cubicle unobserved and quickly copied the contents of his diskette onto his computer. He then began working at once on summarising the data for Verde in a way that would give enough information to be convincing but would not give up all of the details of the transactions. He also set up his computer so that he could quickly change context from the Verde summary to his CCRA project should anyone unexpectedly show up at his desk.

  He had only been working for a few minutes when his phone rang.

  “Kincaid,” said Jim.

  “This is Jeanette Riviere, Mr. Kincaid.” Jim found Jeanette’s accent more than a little alluring this morning but he shrugged it off. Jeanette continued. “Mr. MacEwan has been looking for you all morning. He wants to see you in his office right away.”

  Jim sighed. It was just his luck that MacEwan had come to look for him on a day he was late. “Alright, Jeanette,” sighed Jim. “I’ll be right up.”

  When Jim arrived at Jeanette’s desk she waved him through to MacEwan’s office. Alistair MacEwan turned scarlet-faced when he saw Jim walk into his office.

  “Where in the fuck were you this morning?” asked MacEwan in a very Scottish brogue. Jim thought MacEwan was really milking the Scotsman image this morning. “I spoke with just about everyone on the floor and no one knew that you would be late.”

  Before Jim could reply, the big man stood up and walked around the desk. He perched himself on the desk in front of Jim and stuck out his finger, pushing it into Jim’s chest as he continued. “You and I have already had two conversations about your work habits, Kincaid,” he said, poking his finger to Jim’s chest with almost every syllable. “But we’re getting nowhere and, I must tell you, your job is hanging in the balance.”

  Jim, who had tried several times to speak, only to be interrupted by MacEwan’s tirade, now spoke. He was determined to be conciliatory. “I’m sorry, Mr. MacEwan,” said Jim. “There is no real excuse for today. I just slept in. It’s that simple.”

  MacEwan laughed a deep laugh. “You slept in? That’s your explanation?” He asked both questions while continuing to chuckle and then turned deadly serious. “That’s no explanation at all Kincaid! I really don’t give a rat’s ass why you were late. One more problem like this and you’re fired! You understand me?”

  Jim thought the Scottish accent had become even more pronounced as MacEwan shouted at him but the ranting and raving of this Scot had not really bothered him. He had so many other, larger, problems on his mind that this incident seemed almost irrelevant. But he did find MacEwan’s behaviour unusual. The man had always been relatively easy going, letting his subordinates do their work without intervention. Jim decided that some of the truth would serve best at this point.

  “Well, sir,” said Jim, coolly. “I’m sorry I have let you down. I know I have been distracted but I think this is as good a time as any to tell you that I’m leaving CCRA at the end of the month. I was going to give you my letter of resignation on Monday but you may as well know now.”

  MacEwan’s face was completely transformed as his jaw dropped and his face colour turned from red to white. His tone also changed from one of anger to one of surprise and concern. “Not you too?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jim.

  “A third of the staff has resigned,” said MacEwan. “What in the blazes is going on here?”

  Jim decided to tell MacEwan what he knew. “NAT has been recruiting people for their new contract,” said Jim. “There’s no conspiracy here.” Jim was trying his best to keep the man calm. He had no interest in upsetting MacEwan.

  MacEwan walked back around his desk and sat down in his chair. He closed his eyes, saying nothing for about fifteen seconds while Jim looked on silently. He then turned to Jim looking both serious and calm at the same time.

  “Jim,” said MacEwan, quietly. “I know this will sound odd after what I said before, but can you stay on a little longer? I know I said your job was in jeopardy but it was really just a tactic. I knew I was going to be understaffed I needed you working full speed. So I pushed.”

  Jim looked back at the man and, just then, realized that MacEwan was looking more haggard these days. The stress of his project deadline along with the resignation of a third of his staff had obviously taken its toll. Even though MacEwan had just finished berating him for being an hour late, Jim still felt sorry for the man.

  “I’ll do my best to make up for any lost time,” said Jim. “But I have already accepted the NAT offer and I feel I have to honour my commitment to start on June 1st.” Jim looked over at MacEwan and saw how disappointed he looked. “But I will work harder,” added Jim cheerfully.

  MacEwan managed a weak smile. “You know,” began MacEwan. “Until recently you were one of my best employees.” He paused, probably waiting for a comment, but Jim could not think of anything to say. “Thank you for the offer Jim,” continued MacEwan. “I can use all the help I can get.”

  Jim nodded and stood up to leave. As he reached the door MacEwan said, “Personnel will need your resignation in writing though.”

  “They’ll have it,” said Jim. He then opened the door and left MacEwan’s office for what he thought would be the last time.

  Jim returned to his desk and discovered that he had missed the morning coffee break but decided not to dwell on this gap in his daily ritual. After all, he had not really done any work today. He resumed summarising the data for Verde, remembering to take care to hold back some information. Jim found that he no longer worried as much about the dubious work he had been doing for Verde. He had convinced himself that, by investigating one man who was cheating on his wife and family, and another other man had stolen money from the Mafia, he was more like a private investigator than a spy. Besides, the people he was investigating where not exactly squeaky clean.

  Jim reviewed the data he had retrieved from the diskette. Verde’s first request had been quite easy to summarise because Jim had only to trace the whereabouts of a man hiding from Verde. It turned out that the man, a Chinese national, Zhao Ziyang, had left the country immediately after loaning money from Verde. The trail was not difficult to follow once he discovered that the man purchased an airline ticket and paid for a hotel room on his credit card. Jim tracked him to Phoenix, Arizona but, after a few days in Phoenix, the credit card trail vanished because Zhao stopped using that card. Jim then had to work a little harder to find the man. Using the hotel as a starting point, Jim picked up the trail when he found the man had kept the same room at the hotel and had then started paying for the room with a new credit card. With the new information, Jim had found tracking the man easy. People were so stupid sometimes, thought Jim.

  Summarising Verde’s second client, the Attorney General of Ontario, was more difficult but, thankfully, Jim managed to work on this summary without interruption. Once he had all of the information for the two requests neatly summarised for Verde in two files, one for each request, he dialled Verde’s number. As he listened to the telephone ring, Jim thought to himself that Verde should be very pleased with
the information he had gathered. Even though he was not going to give Verde all of the details, the information would provide the conclusive evidence Verde has requested. Jim thought that, with this material, and his ability to repay the loan with the new job at NAT, Verde should finally be appeased.

  “Prego,” said the voice at the other end of the line.

  “Mr. Verde, please,” said Jim. “This is Jim Kincaid.”

  “One moment,” said a voice in heavily accented English.

  While he waited for Verde to come to the telephone, Jim realized that for most of the morning his monitor had been displaying the information he had been gathering for Verde and that this information was clearly unrelated to his work. Since it would be difficult to keep an eye out for anyone dropping by his desk as he spoke with Verde, Jim changed the context of the screen to the CCRA project he was supposed to be working on. Now, should anyone look in on him while he was on the phone, they would think he was working.

  “Verde,” said the familiar voice. It was curt, businesslike.

  “Mr. Verde, this is Jim Kincaid,” said Jim. “I have the information you asked for.”

  “Good news,” said Verde, his tone changing to something amicable, almost jovial. Jim thought he sounded a little excited. “How will you get it to me?”

  “I thought I would send it by e-mail,” said Jim. “If you give me your e-mail address I will send it right now.”

  “E-mail?” asked Verde. He sounded surprised.

  “Sure,” said Jim. “Don’t you use e-mail?”

  “Of course I do,” said Verde. “But I thought sending e-mail over the internet was not safe. And I thought security was your speciality, Mr. Kincaid. I am surprised you have not suggested some precautions.”

  “Shit,” said Jim, holding the phone tightly with one hand has he slapped his head with the other. How could he have been so careless? He constantly exploited the openness and lack of security of the internet to glean the data he needed as White Hat and, now, as Verde’s spy. Why had it not occurred to him that someone else might spy on him? He had been concentrating so hard on getting the information to Verde that it had distracted him from any security concerns.

  “Of course you’re right, Mr. Verde. Sorry,” said Jim. “I’ll send you the information encrypted but you will need a password to open the file.”

  “That sounds more reasonable,” said Verde.

  “Do you have an e-mail address I can use to send you the information?” asked Jim.

  “Si,” said Verde and he gave him the address.

  Jim wrote it down and then asked, “What kind of computer will you be using to read the e-mail?” asked Jim.

  “Why does that matter?” asked Verde.

  “I use my own encryption program,” explained Jim. “And I have to know which computer to compile it for.”

  “I just use a regular PC,” said Verde.

  “That’s fine,” said Jim. “The software is on my home computer. When I get home I will send it to you.”

  “I need to see it now,” said Verde. There was some urgency in his voice. “I can’t wait until tonight.”

  Jim thought for a moment. He could access his home computers from the office but he had been reluctant to do so lest someone see the traffic. Jim considered the risk and then decided that this seemed like a reasonable exception.

  “Okay,” said Jim, reluctantly. “I will try to get the files to you in the next hour or so. You will need a password to open the files,” continued Jim. He quickly typed commands onto his computer and brought up a web page on one of his home computers. It was a simple page with a single field and one button. In the field Jim entered 10 and then pressed the button. A ten character random string of letters and numbers appeared on the web page and Jim read the letters and numbers out loud to Verde. He then copied the password from the web page into a text file on his computer.

  It only took Jim a few minutes to encrypt the data and send it off to Verde. He then copied the e-mail to his home server and wiped all other traces of the information. He expertly wiped the diskette and all of the files he had created on his hard drive. Finally, he used his White Cell software at home to wipe all traces of the e-mail he had sent Verde from the CCRA e-mail servers. When he was satisfied that he had covered his tracks, it was time for lunch.

  Jim dropped by Ben’s desk. “How about lunch?” he asked.

  “Where were you at break?” asked Ben.

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Too late,” said Ben. “I just did.”

  “I’ll fill you in at lunch,” said Jim.

  The elevator stopped at the basement concourse and the two walked out of the elevator and marched toward their usual coffee shop. Neither Ben nor Jim noticed the man in the overcoat watching them. The man followed them to their lunchtime spot and took a seat at a table far enough away to be ignored but in the direct line of sight of their table. He ordered a coffee and seemed to read a newspaper.

  During lunch Jim filled Ben in on his colourful conversation with MacEwan and how the department was going to be seriously short staffed until they could do some hiring. Ben was unmoved.

  “Serves him right,” said Ben.

  “Oh?”

  “He has no idea what is going on under his very nose,” said Ben.

  “You shouldn’t hold that against him,” said Jim. “With MacEwan CCRA was not a bad place to work at.”

  “I guess,” said Ben.

  After lunch, as they left the coffee shop, Jim noticed the man in the overcoat following them back to the elevator and made a mental note of the man. He was sure he had seen him before but had always assumed that he just worked in the building. Then, as he thought about it more in the elevator, he realized how unusual it was for someone who worked in the building to be wearing an overcoat inside. Then, slowly, as he rode up in the elevator, the realization fell over him. How stupid he had been. How could he not have realized it earlier? Verde was having him followed. With this realization Jim actually relaxed. He could not believe he was more comfortable being watched by a Mafia loan shark than by someone he did not know.

  After lunch Jim tried to make good on his promise to MacEwan. With only two weeks before he left for NAT and having hardly done any work over the last week, he would have to work awesomely hard and possibly put in extra hours to give MacEwan anything remotely approaching a useful prototype. When Ben came by his desk at break time, Jim told him he was going to work through the break. By 5:00 he had made very good progress yet he continued to work. Then, at 5:30, his phone rang.

  “Kincaid.”

  “This is Verde.”

  “Did you not receive the e-mail Mr. Verde?” asked Jim.

  “Oh yes,” said Verde. “I received it.”

  Jim could not tell if Verde was pleased or upset and he began to feel muscles in his stomach twitch. He picked up a pencil to have something to hold onto. He decided to say nothing and wait to hear what Verde had to say.

  “I showed the summary to my colleagues,” said Verde. He paused and Jim tensed, still holding the pencil. “You have to understand that these are very tough men. They are not easily satisfied. They expect more than can usually be provided.”

  This was not sounding good and Jim was getting much more nervous now. His right hand was clenched around the telephone receiver and his jaw was clenched tight. His jaw muscles bulged at the side of his face. His stomach now felt like he was dropping suddenly in an airplane and he found that he was also holding his breath. He snapped the pencil into two pieces with the one hand that was holding it.

  Verde continued. “But my superiors are very impressed with you, Mr. Kincaid. The quality of your information is much better than what we have become accustomed to with our own people.” Jim breathed out slowly and began to relax. He threw the pencil fragments into his garbage can. “My superiors want me to send you a bonus. I’ll send it by courier today.”

  Jim did not know what to say. Extra money could only help and, if it
were a bonus, did that not mean it did not have to be repaid? Then Jim thought about it some more. He had spied for the Mafia and now he was being given a bonus for this dubious work. Jim was more than a little ashamed at himself. He was also ashamed of the situation he was now in but, somewhere deep inside, he was also excited. He finally found the words he wanted to say.

  “Thank you,” he said and, with those words, decided he would not share this secret with Ben.

  ***

  That night Jim was not himself. The combination of the pressure from MacEwan, the uncertainty of a new job next month, and the unexpected bonus from Verde had him trying to predict the outcome of these events. Where would he be in a month’s time?

  Jim tried to return to his White Hat work but he found he could not concentrate. He retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and sat down in the living room in front of the television. Normally he would call Ben but that was not possible in this case because Ben did not know about the favours for Verde. He needed someone to talk to. He knew what he wanted to do but he felt weak in doing it. He did not want to appear needy or desperate but what else could he do? Then he had an idea. With his beer still in his hand he picked up the telephone and dialled the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Penny, it’s Jim. Should we set up a time for Saturday?”

  It was more than two hours later when Jim hung up the phone. As he did so he realized how surprised he was with the way he relationship with Penny was developing. She was so easy to talk to. They talked about anything and everything and, until he looked at the clock, he did not even realize how long they had been on the phone. What had seemed like minutes were in fact hours. Jim was not often surprised in a positive way but that was how Penny had surprised him. He fell asleep thinking about her. And then he dreamed about her. And when he dreamed about her he dreamed that she was dreaming about him. Cool.