White Cell

by B Regan Asher

  “As I recall, there seems to be something about a ‘New Covenant’ with Jesus,” said Jim. “But I never really understood it and my parents didn’t buy it. What about you? Why are you Jewish but you don’t keep any of the laws?”

  “That’s easy,” said Penny. “My parents belonged to a Reform synagogue and so I was brought up that way. Our synagogue in Toronto had one of the first women Rabbis and we always had services in English. I was just raised to believe Judaism was more a set of traditions than a religion.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Jim.

  Just then the waiter came by with their drinks, placing two large mugs of draft beer in front of Jim and Penny. He also placed a bowl of tortilla chips in the middle of the table along with a bowl of salsa.

  “Thanks,” said Penny to the waiter, taking a chip and using it to scoop up some salsa. She washed it down with some beer. Jim did the same. Penny then changed the subject. “Cily has been hinting that there is more to you than meets the eye but she won’t tell me what. What do you do that you haven’t told me?”

  Jim had wanted to tell her about his secret but he had not known how. He had really enjoyed talking to her on the phone but felt the secret had to be divulged in person. This was a perfect opportunity to tell her more so he just blurted it out.

  “I’m a hacker,” he said.

  Penny seemed unimpressed. “Isn’t everyone in your business?”

  “Not like me,” said Jim, a little smugly. He then leant forward toward Penny and whispered. “I’m the hacker known as White Cell.”

  Penny, who had leaned across the table to hear him, now jumped back. “Holy moly!” she said excitedly. She was now waving her finger at him, her arm extended across the table. “I’ve heard of you!” she said, much too loudly. “And that’s impressive because I don’t know anything about software.”

  “I’m kind of famous,” said Jim.

  “I’ll say. They say you’re like the Albert Einstein of hacking. But you only try to stop viruses, right? I mean, you aren’t the problem.” The last words were a statement, not a question, perhaps wishful thinking. She looked at Jim. “You create the cures, right?”

  “Yep,” said Jim. “Unfortunately, what I do is just as illegal.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I break into computers to search for new viruses. People don’t take kindly to having their privacy trampled on even though I don’t steal anything, I don’t look at any data and my intentions are completely honourable.”

  “Sounds exciting,” said Penny and Jim thought she did sound excited. “But it also sounds dangerous. Why do you do it?”

  “It’s a challenge,” said Jim. “Why does anyone go mountain climbing or hang gliding or parachuting? It’s a challenge and its competition. It’s the race to win. I’m in competition, not only with the people who write the viruses, but I’m also competing with the authorities to prevent being caught. And to make things interesting I deliberately hack into the most secure computers because they present the biggest challenge.”

  “Which are the most secure computers?” asked Penny.

  Seeing the waiter approaching, Jim waited to answer her question. The waiter placed bowls of guacamole, tomatoes and other condiments for his fajitas on the table.

  “Thanks,” Jim said to the waiter and then turned to Penny to continue. “Banks, insurance companies, law enforcement agencies are tough. But the best are the computers run by the military and the spy agencies.” He straightened up his posture and paused to look right at Penny. “No one is safe from White Cell,” he said in a proud, yet self deprecating, way.

  “What’s it like when you finally break into one of those computers?” asked Penny.

  Jim really perked up. “It’s fantastic,” he said. “You have no idea what a kick it is to break into the FBI or MI-5 or the KGB. It’s a real rush.”

  “I bet,” said Penny. She was leaning towards him from across the table, her eyes wide open. It was a side to her that Jim was surprised at because so far, on the first date and on the telephone, she had been so staid, so reserved. Now she looked excited. Then Jim thought to where his hacking had gotten him recently and his excitement turned to worry and his face contorted as he recalled his predicament.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Penny.

  “There’s a little more to this story but it’s not good news. And I’m not sure I want to drag you into it.”

  “Come on!” persisted Penny.

  Jim ignored her and changed the topic. “What would your parents think about you dating someone who was not Jewish?”

  Penny threw the question back at him. “What would your parents think about you dating a non-Christian girl?”

  Rather than argue, Jim decided to answer her question. “My Mom already knows and she says she just wants me to be happy. She also said that a Jewish girl might actually be a good idea because that way the kosher rules would be easier to deal with.”

  “That makes a whole lot of sense,” said Penny. “You Mom must be a very wise woman.”

  “She is.”

  “What does your Dad say?”

  “My father died a couple of years ago.”

  Penny’s face dropped. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Anyway,” said Jim, redirecting the conversation. “You never answered my question. What would your parents say about you dating a non-Jewish guy?”

  “They’re cool,” said Penny. “Nothing fazes them. They were practically flower children in the sixties. They’re more concerned with karma than religion.”

  Jim smiled. The waiter appeared and placed a sizzling plate with chicken and vegetables along with tortillas in a warmer in front of Jim and a large plate of ribs in front of Penny. They both stopped talking as they turned to their dinners. Then, finally, after picking at her ribs, and as if she had been holding in the question all along, she asked again.

  “You said there was more to the story,” said Penny. “And?”

  Jim shook his head. “Can’t tell you yet,” said Jim. “It’s way too dangerous.”

  “I don’t care,” said Penny. “To be perfectly honest, my life is quite dull. That’s why I moved here. I was looking for a change. I’d love a little danger in my life.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” said Jim, seeming to waver a little.

  “I think you want to tell me,” said Penny. She smiled a million dollar smile. “I think the problem is that we have only known each other for a few days.”

  Jim nodded. “That’s part of it,” he conceded.

  “So?”

  Something in Jim’s eyes flickered, as if a switch had been thrown that would allow him to talk to Penny. He sat there for a few more seconds, contemplating his decision, and then, without warning, and very quietly, he relented. “Ok,” he said.

  It took a long time but he told Penny everything. He even told her about the bonus, something he had made sure to keep from Ben. During the entire account Penny said nothing. She just watched Jim and tried to understand how he had gotten himself into this predicament. Did she really want to be involved with such a dreadfully naïve person? She felt there was no way she would ever get herself into such a predicament, but was that true? Her face contorted a few times when she realized how deeply involved he was and, finally, when Jim had finished, she looked worried.

  “Well?” asked Jim. “What do you think?”

  Penny could not speak. Two times she tried to say something but nothing came out of her mouth but odd throat noises. She took a drink of water but, even then, only managed to say, “Wow”.

  “Wow?” asked Jim. “That’s it?”

  “I’m speechless,” said Penny.

  “Okay,” said Jim, slowly. “But do you have any suggestions? I mean, what can I do? I feel stuck.”

  “What does everyone else say?” asked Penny.

  “Ben is the only other person who knows some of the Verde story,” said Jim and then something occurred to him. “I haven’t told Cily so
you better not talk to her about it. I bet Ben has told her some of it though.”

  “What does Ben say?” asked Penny.

  “He wants me to go to the police. Actually, he was more specific. Because Verde is Mafia, Ben thinks I should go to the RCMP.”

  Penny nodded. “That sounds like awfully good advice to me.”

  “But what about Mom?” asked Jim. “I don’t want to put her at risk.”

  Penny now shook her head. “Your mom’s already at risk,” said Penny. “You already know what these people are capable of. Getting the police involved isn’t going to make that part worse.” She was shaking her head, feeling that Jim, although he was a great guy, was a total moron when it came to serious things. But his innocence was also endearing and she could not deny how attracted she was to him. Finally, she knew that the danger element was also a factor in her interest.

  After dinner Jim drove Penny back to her apartment building, parking at the awning in front of the lobby.

  “Thanks for dinner,” said Penny. “I had a nice time.”

  “Me too,” said Jim. “Too bad we ended up talking so much about my problems. I really didn’t want that. I wanted our date to be something fun.”

  “I’m glad you did,” said Penny. “Remember how I told you how boring my life has been?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, it’s not boring any more,” she said. She smiled at Jim and he smiled back. She leaned across the front seat and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again,” she said, opening the car door.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” said Jim.

  “Great,” said Penny. She started to get out of the car and then turned around. “Would you like to come up for a coffee?” she asked.

  Jim beamed. “I’d love to,” he said.

  Penny’s apartment was a one bedroom affair with very little furniture. Instead, it had moving boxes, some sealed, some open, lying around everywhere. Jim sat on a stool by the kitchen counter while Penny made the coffee. There was no kitchen table. They sat there, on two stools, drinking coffee and talking until Jim finally looked at his watch.

  “Did you know it’s 3am?” he asked.

  “No,” said Penny. “But I don’t really mind,” she said.

  “I’ve really got to get going,” said Jim. He stood up and began walking to the door. “Good night,” he said. “And thanks.”

  “For what?” asked Penny.

  “For the coffee and for listening. Once I sort out my mess I’d like us to be able to talk about something … well, something else.”

  “Good idea,” said Penny. “I’d like that too.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night,” said Jim. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Jim returned the car to Ben’s parking garage and then returned home. Once inside his apartment he found there were three messages on his answering machine. When he listened to them he discovered they were all from Ben. On the first message, Ben had suggested that they get together, just the two of them, for breakfast Sunday morning. The second message was a shorter version of the first. Finally, on the third message, Ben said he would meet Jim at a nearby restaurant called Cora’s at 10:30 for breakfast. Ben said that he had to talk to Jim, that this was very important, and that Jim should be there no matter what.

  Chapter 20 - Breakfast with Ben

  Sun May 16th

  Sheldon Mintz threw the manila file folder onto the desk where it fell on top of the Sunday edition of the Globe and Mail with a large headline reading “MI-5 Arrives Tomorrow”. Mintz was sitting in his home office with the door closed and the blinds open, a stream of sunlight lighting up one set of several bookshelves that covered the walls. After he had thrown the folder he looked at it sitting on his desk and he looked very, very mad.

  “Idiot!” Mintz swore out loud to himself. He picked up the phone and dialled a number that he now knew all too well.

  “Yes?” said the voice at the other end of the line.

  “You have to do more,” said Mintz.

  “More?”

  “Yes.”

  “We do want the surveillance to be covert, do we not?”

  “Don’t lose the … subject,” said Mintz.

  “Alright,” said the voice.

  “And I want protection for him,” said Mintz.

  “He’s already under surveillance.”

  “Can your man protect him? If it comes to that?” asked Mintz.

  “I think so,” said the voice. “What are you thinking?”

  “You read the report.”

  “So you’re just worried?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll warn our people.”

  “Good.”

  “Sheldon!” The voice came from the other side of the office door. “Sheldon! Breakfast!” The voice was getting louder and Mintz heard footsteps coming down the hall.

  “I have to go,” said Mintz and he hung up the phone. The door opened and his wife walked in.

  “Didn’t you hear me Sheldon?”

  “Yes dear,” said Mintz. “I heard you and I’m coming.” Mintz stood up, pushing the chair out from under him.

  “Is everything alright?” asked his wife. Mintz’s forehead was wrinkled with worry.

  “Just fine, dear,” said Mintz. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated and then followed his wife to the kitchen for breakfast.

  ***

  Jim was right on time when he walked up to the front entrance to Cora’s at 10:30. There was already a line up at the door but Jim knew Ben would have been here early. Jim walked past the line up, past the hostess, and walked through the restaurant looking for Ben. Jim knew that Ben would have been here fifteen minutes earlier to guarantee a table for 10:30. As he walked through the restaurant he could not help but smile at the colourful artefacts pasted to the walls. Along with the trademark cartoon suns, there were also pictures of breakfast items from the menu. Cora’s was a funny restaurant, thought Jim. How can a restaurant operate only for breakfast and lunch, he wondered. He finally found Ben sitting with a cup of coffee in a small booth at the very back of the restaurant. Jim slipped into the booth.

  “Hey,” he said, throwing Ben’s car keys on the table.

  Ben looked up at him and Jim thought he looked very serious. Ben then looked at his watch. “Wow,” said Ben. “You’re on time.” Ben was clearly trying to be funny but there was no humour evident on his face. A waiter came by with a pot of coffee and refilled Ben’s cup and poured a new cup for Jim. Ben picked up the car keys and put them in his pocket.

  “I suggest we order quickly,” said Ben. “Then we can get down to business.”

  Jim just looked at him. “Business?” he asked.

  “Just order,” said Ben, picking up his menu.

  After a few more minutes, the waiter came by to take their order. Ben ordered eggs, sausages and crepes. Jim bit his tongue rather than criticise Ben’s unholy breakfast selection. Jim ordered a Bobby Button, unique Cora breakfast item: a vegetable omelette wrapped inside of a crepe. When the waiter left them Ben turned to Jim.

  “Have you called the police?” asked Ben.

  “No,” said Jim.

  “I didn’t think so,” said Ben. “You have to call the police and I think it should be the RCMP. You’re in danger of getting pulled even further into to this thing. Look at the list you have been given. This is no longer one simple favour. You’re a god dammed employee of the mob!” Ben was practically yelling but he kept his head low, somehow thinking that would keep others from hearing what he was saying.

  Jim had been close to drawing the same conclusion as Ben, that he had to seek outside help, but he still resisted Ben’s argument. “Not yet I’m not,” said Jim.

  Ben nodded understandingly. “Okay,” he said, and then slowly reached under the table, picking up something lying on the bench beside him. After he picked it up, he waved a crumpled and folded piece of paper in his fist
in front of Ben. “What was the very first name that Campanelli’s uncle gave you?”

  “The one that moved to Arizona?”

  “Yeah,” said Ben. “That’s the one.”

  Jim thought to himself. It had been three days since he had seen the name and Jim was never very good with names. “It was a Chinese name,” said Jim. Thinking some more he thought he could remember something about it. “Tao Sing?” asked Jim aloud. “Something like that?”

  “I think that’s a beer,” said Ben. “How about Zhao Ziyang? Does that sound right?”

  Jim snapped his fingers and pointed at Ben. “That’s it,” said Jim. “How did you remember that?”

  Ben unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and passed it to Jim. It was printed from a newspaper web site. Jim tried to flatten out the piece of paper to get rid of the wrinkles. The newspaper was the Arizona Republic and the article was titled “Man Killed In Mugging”. The short article was dated Saturday.

  “Early this morning a man was found stabbed in downtown Phoenix. The man, Karl Cheng, 42, was not a Phoenix native and there is now confusion over his true identity. The FBI has indicated that the man may be Zhao Ziyang of Toronto, Canada and that Ziyang had ties to organized crime. FBI Special Agent Curtis Melcher says he is working with the RCMP to determine how Ziyang had changed identities and how he had entered the United States.”

  Jim’s hand was shaking as he put down the newspaper and, when he did, Ben could see that his face was white.

  “Holy shit,” said Jim.

  “I know,” said Ben.

  Jim ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back and off his forehead.

  “Think Verde had him killed?” asked Jim.

  “Don’t you?” asked Ben.

  “Yes,” said Jim. “I do. I’m fucked. Now what do I do?”

  “You call the RCMP,” said Ben. “Like I’ve been telling you to all along.”

  Jim picked up a glass of water and took a sip. He was sweating now, his forehead damp. Jim picked up a napkin and wiped his face with it. He then leaned back and slumped down in the booth.

  “I’m really worried now Ben,” said Jim. “I’m worried for myself but I’m very worried for Mom. They could kill Mom just to make a point. And they would still have me.”