“Kincaid,” said Jim.
“Mr. Kincaid?” said the voice. “Charles Gordon.”
Jim was so relieved at the call, he gasped. “Yes Inspector?” he asked expectantly, clutching the phone tightly.
“Can you talk?”
Jim looked around. “Sure,” he said.
“We discussed everything with the Chief Inspector,” said Gordon and Jim subconsciously began holding his breath. No one had said anything about a Chief Inspector. Jim now assumed that this guy – this Chief Inspector – their boss? – would have to approve his involvement. Did that mean that his involvement was not certain? Did that mean the RCMP may not help him with Verde?
“The plan is approved,” continued Gordon. “The Chief Inspector says you can work with us, but discretely.” A wave of relief swept over Jim and he let out the breath he was holding and relaxed. Gordon continued. “Since you’re working today I suggest we discuss our plans at lunchtime.”
“Fine by me,” said Jim, his demeanour now completely transformed from the brusque irritation he had shown Ben to a relaxed cheerfulness.
“I have arranged for a room in the federal building across the road from you,” said Gordon. Meet us in the lobby at 12:00 and we’ll discuss how to proceed.”
“I’ll be there,” said Jim.
When he finished with Gordon, he returned to his CCRA work. Well, he tried to return to his CCRA work. Twenty minutes later Ben checked in with Jim on his way back from break. “Any calls?” asked Ben.
“Yep,” said Jim with a smile.
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.”
“So?”
“I’m meeting them for lunch at noon,” said Jim, clearly much happier than he had been before break time. “Hopefully I’ll know more after that.”
Ben was relieved to see that Jim had finally relaxed. “Good luck,” said Ben. “Really!” he added, slapping Jim on the shoulder. There seemed to be some added emphasis on the word “really” as if Ben did not think Jim would believe him without it.
“Thanks,” said Jim.
At a quarter to twelve Jim left his desk, proceeded downstairs and walked across the street, arriving in the lobby of the building across the street at exactly noon. He immediately found Desjardins and Gordon sitting in two chairs in the corner of the lobby. When they saw him they stood up and lead him to a very small, but private, room on the third floor, sparsely set up with a large stark table and several uncomfortable chairs. The fluorescent lighting gave the room a sterile atmosphere. Gordon closed the door and it clicked shut. He then sat down in one of the chairs. Desjardins and Jim did the same.
“The best way to begin,” began Desjardin, looking at Jim. “Is for you to tell us everything you know right now about the kidnapping of the Minister of Transport.”
Jim shifted in his seat. He was no longer certain that he had done the right thing by rummaging through the RCMP computer without their approval. How much should he tell them? He had made progress but what would their reaction be? Sitting here now it occurred to Jim that his eagerness may also be his undoing. Tell them too much and would they feel threatened by his ability to break into the RCMP computer? Tell them too little and would they think he was holding out on them? Jim had to make a quick decision. After quickly weighting the pros and cons, he decided to tell them everything he had found. He simply did not want to give them a reason to distrust him.
“I did a little bit of investigating last night,” began Jim, looking back and forth between the two inspectors. “And I have uncovered some interesting facts.” Both inspectors were watching at him intently. “First,” continued Jim. “I know where one of the terrorist e-mails was sent from.”
Gordon’s eyes widened. Interrupting Jim, he looked over at Desjardins. “You gave him the e-mail already?” he asked Desjardins, an angry edge to his voice.
“Mais non,” said Desjardins, offended. Then, turning to Jim, he asked, “Where did you get the e-mail?”
Jim’s face flushed. “I picked it off of the RCMP e-mail server,” said Jim, trying to sound casual.
“You did what?” asked Gordon.
“I know I probably should have waited,” said Jim defensively. “But I wanted to get a head start. I wanted to be able to tell you something concrete.”
“You gave us something concrete alright,” said Gordon. “You showed us you couldn’t be trusted.” Gordon stood to get up. “I told you we couldn’t work with this … this hacker,” he said to Desjardins. This was the reaction Jim had feared most.
“Sit down Charles,” said Desjardins. “What’s done is done. We may as well know what he has found out.” Desjardins looked at Gordon but Gordon had not yet sat down. “Right?” asked Desjardins, nodding toward Gordon’s empty seat. Gordon sat back in the seat.
“Where did the e-mail come from?” asked Desjardins.
“Transports Québec,” said Jim, relieved that Desjardins’ had prevailed so far.
“Sacre bleu!” exclaimed Desjardins.
Gordon now seemed more interested. “How can you be sure?” asked Gordon. “We traced the e-mail and found it had come from an anonymous e-mail server.”
“I know,” said Jim. “I got that far too!” Jim was now getting excited as he always did when explaining how he had cracked something. He continued. “Then I hacked into the anonymous server and pulled out their transaction logs. Anonymous servers usually keep limited records but this server’s records turned out to be very complete. Their transaction logs go back years. The e-mail was definitely sent from Transports Québec and I have an originating IP address and the time it was sent.”
Jim was beaming. Lost in his own cleverness, he had been in his own world as he recounted his story to the two RCMP inspectors. He loved sharing how he had uncovered clues by cracking through security system. When he looked up for a reaction, he found Gordon and Desjardins in a frantic discussion about something that he did not understand.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jim.
“Jesus Christ!” Gordon was yelling at Jim. “Do you realized how much trouble we could be in if we were caught? What you have done is illegal!” chastised Gordon.
“Maybe,” said Jim calmly. “And maybe not.”
“Jim may be right,” said Desjardins said to Gordon. “It’s not clear.”
“What do you mean it’s not clear?” asked Gordon.
Jim interjected. “The e-mail server is physically located in China,” said Jim. “Strictly speaking, I didn’t break any Canadian laws when I broke into a computer in mainland China.”
Gordon just scowled.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Desjardins complained.
Everyone stopped talking and then Desjardins turned to Jim, reverting back to the original topic. “We always had a problem believing that the FLQ still existed. Now, thanks to you, we have a solid lead.” Desjardins slapped Jim on the back. “Good job, Jim,” said Desjardin, apparently unconcerned about Gordon’s objection to Jim’s potentially illegal activities. And, again, Jim found it odd that he was calling him by his first name.
But Jim was confused. “I don’t understand,” he began. “Surely I’m not the only one who can trace these e-mails?” he asked.
Desjardins answered him but, as he did so, he had to search for the correct words. “You’re the only one who is … unencumbered … by the … letter … of the law,” said Desjardins.
“Ah,” said Jim, understanding. Now he knew why they were so keen on soliciting his help. While it was true that he was a superb hacker and that was no doubt important, there was another, more important reason, for his involvement. Because he was working with the RCMP unofficially he could skirt around some of the legal restrictions that hindered their official investigation. He could not break the law but he could work around it.
“I think our little arrangement is going to work out very well,” said Desjardin, looking at Gordon. “Don’t you think?”
Begrudgingly Gordon nodded.
“What’s next?” asked Jim.
“You already know we are under a lot of pressure to solve this case,” said Desjardins. “MI-5 has already arrived and so far,” he said nodding at Gordon, “it looks like they are taking over. Apparently the Prime Minister is involved and is considering giving them total control.”
Gordon took over. “We need you put all of your efforts into finding where the terrorists are keeping the Transport Minister.” Gordon reached under the table and removed a thick envelope. “This is a copy of our file. Don’t lose it and don’t let anyone else see it. You should not even have this copy.”
“But with this file,” said Desjardins. “You have everything we have.”
Jim took the file and placed it on the table in front of him. “Ok,” said Jim, not knowing what else to say.
Gordon looked at Desjardins. “Ask him,” he said to his partner.
“Can you take a leave of absence from your job?” asked Desjardins.
Jim was surprised. This was no longer a part time consultation. “Am I going to work for the RCMP full time?” he asked.
“No,” said Gordon categorically. “There is no way for us to employ you right now because this is all completely unofficial.”
“I’m going to work without pay?” asked Jim. “That’s the kind of financial crap that got me into this.”
Desjardins looked at Gordon. Gordon nodded. “Alright,” said Desjardins. “We didn’t want to suggest this, but why don’t you deposit one of those bonus cheques for now?” he asked.
“You’re kidding?” asked Jim.
“No, I’m not kidding,” said Desjardins. “And it’s not my first choice of a solution, but we don’t have any other ideas. Once we get our terrorists, we’ll deal with your Mafia problem.”
Jim carefully considered the ramifications of depositing Verde’s cheque. On the one hand it would seal his fate with Verde. On the other hand, it may also give Verde some confidence that Jim had been bought. And, besides, was he any worse off? At least by depositing the cheque he could work for the RCMP full time. And if he helped them find the Transport Minister, they would solve the Verde problem once and for all.
“Okay,” said Jim. “I’ll do it.” Jim looked as if he was going to ask another question but then changed his mind.
“You were going to ask something?” asked Desjardins.
“It’s nothing,” said Jim.
“You had better ask all of your questions now,” said Desjardins.
“I just don’t understand the MI-5 business,” said Jim. “Why would the Prime Minister want to bring in a foreign security service to solve an internal Canadian problem?”
“That’s a little more complicated,” said Gordon. “It’s the media. Because the media has been so critical of our investigation, the Prime Minister is trying to distance himself from the RCMP in case the RCMP fails to solve the case. First, the Prime Minister forces the RCMP to call in MI-5. Then he goes to the Commissioner quietly and makes it perfectly clear that he expects the RCMP to solve the case before MI-5 make any progress.”
“And if you don’t?” asked Jim.
“Then the Commissioner and a slew of others will be purged,” said Gordon.
“Including our boss and us,” said Desjardins solemnly.
“You see the political sense it makes?” asked Gordon. “The Prime Minister must be seen to have done everything possible to solve the case, including bringing in the British. Whether or not we solve the case, the Prime Minister is blameless.”
Jim nodded. Now it did make sense. These guys were going to do anything to save their jobs and that’s why Jim was allowed to work outside the law. No wonder they were so motivated and no wonder they contacted him. Jim just had to make sure they did not forget their obligation to him.
It was almost 2:00pm when Jim returned to the federal building. He returned to his desk but found it impossible to work because his mind kept wandering. He sat there for a long while, trying to look busy, trying to decide what to do next. When he looked at his watch and discovered that it was already 3:30, he decided to go to the 11th floor to see Alistair MacEwan. Jeanette Riviere was sitting at her desk.
“Bonjour Jeanette,” said Jim, using his best French accent.
She looked up. “Bonjour Jim,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I have to see MacEwan.”
Jeanette picked up the phone. “Mr. Kincaid is here,” she said. She listened, hung up the phone and turned to Jim. “Go on in,” she said.
“Thanks.”
Jim walked into the office and, without being invited to do so, sat down in one of the guest chairs. MacEwan looked up from the papers on his desk. “Good news I hope, Jim,” said MacEwan hopefully.
“It depends on how you look at it,” said Jim. “I’m going to have to take a leave of absence until my resignation takes effect at the end of the month.”
MacEwan said nothing. He just glared at Jim.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Jim. “But something important has come up.”
MacEwan continued to look at Jim. He seemed to be shaking but he said nothing.
“Is there anyone you want me to discuss my work with before I leave?” asked Jim, trying to make the transition as easy as possible.
What happened next so surprised Jim that he just froze in his chair. MacEwan stood up, held out his arm, and pointed his finger at the door. “Get out!” he yelled. “Get the fuck out of my office!” Though shocked by MacEwan’s reaction, Jim thought it was interesting how, when yelling, MacEwan’s Scottish accent all but disappeared.
Jim wanted to leave but he was frozen fast in the chair. MacEwan came around the front of the big desk, grabbed Jim by the shirt, picked him up, and shoved him out the open office door. Jim lost his balance, fell, and slid along the floor coming to a stop near Jeanette Riviere’s desk. He was disoriented but he did hear the office door slam behind him.
“Bad meeting?” asked Riviere, eyes wide, looking at Jim lying on the floor.
Jim stood up and brushed off his pants and shirt. He smiled at Jeanette. “No,” said Jim. “I actually thought it went rather well.” And then, he thought to himself, it did go well. Not only was he finished with CCRA MacEwan’s assault in front of Jeanette would provide Jim with legal ammunition should CCRA not treat him reasonably upon his departure.
After the run in with MacEwan, Jim stopped off to see Ben briefly, explaining what had happened. He quickly wiped personal information off of his computer, emptied his desk into a paper carton he found at the photocopier, and returned to his apartment. Leaving CCRA could only be a good thing, thought Jim. After all, he had a new job on June first and he had a lot to get done before then. As soon as the apartment door was closed he went to his server room and began looking for more clues about the location of the terrorists and the Transport Minister.
After several hours of searching, he had not found much. He had verified everything he had told the inspectors and he had also discovered that, even though the terrorists had used multiple anonymous e-mail relays, they had usually sent their e-mails from the same originating IP subnet at Transports Québec. Jim had traced all their e-mails in the same manner he had traced the first e-mail.
Then, as he worked through the Transports Québec computers he discovered that they had been used for more than one terrorist incident. Someone there was key player in a number of illegal activities including terrorism, extortion and smuggling. Just as Jim was going switch to the MI-5 computers to see what, if anything, MI-5 had discovered, the phone rang. It was just before 6:00pm.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Kincaid,” said the familiar voice. “This is Giuseppe Verde.”
Jim frowned. He was not at all pleased to be taking this call. He hoped to be done with Verde soon but, until the RCMP put this Mafioso on a tight leash, he had to be careful.
“Yes Mr. Verde,” said Jim respectfully. “How are you?”
“Bene, Mr. Kin
caid. Bene,” said Verde. “But I have been better, if you know what I mean.”
“What can I do for you?” asked Jim, regretting his words even as they came out.
“I am glad you asked, Mr. Kincaid,” said Verde. “On Friday I gave you a list,” he continued. “And I was expecting a summary by the end of the weekend.”
“We didn’t discuss a timeframe,” said Jim. “And it was a very long list.”
“Si,” said Verde. “But you are a very good investigator too.”
Jim remained silent.
“When will I have my summary?” asked Verde. He was still being polite but his tone had become a little harsher.
“Soon, Mr. Verde,” said Jim. “Soon.”
“Soon.” Verde repeated the word as a simple statement but it was more of a challenge. “‘Soon’ is when something might happen that is out of my control,” said Verde. “‘Soon’ is when you or your mother or one of your friends might not have the benefit of my protection. ‘Soon’ is when you might be vulnerable.”
“Are you threatening me?” asked Jim.
“Threats?” asked Verde. “I don’t believe in them. Threats are bad for business. As soon as someone thinks you are threatening them they no longer respect you.” He paused. “No, Mr. Kincaid, I am not threatening you. I am, however, predicting the future.”
Jim did not see the difference between the prediction and the threat, but he knew he had to stall this crook. The problem was that he did not know how long he would have to stall him. One week? Two? No longer than two, he told himself. He could not, however, give Verde information on any more of the names on the list. Jim did not want another murder on his conscience.
“Okay,” said Jim apologetically. “Give me to the end of the week to get you some information.”
“The end of the week?” asked Verde. “What were you doing over the weekend?”
“I needed a break,” said Jim. “I’m really stressed and I’m not very productive when I’m stressed. Or accurate.”
“It now sounds like you are threatening me,” said Verde.
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