No Strings Attached

by Julie Moffett

I figured they’d already heard the short version from Slash, so I reviewed the entire chain of events, providing as much level of detail as I could. Several of the men jotted notes as I spoke.

  “So, you had no prior knowledge that this exchange was going to happen?” Sam, the vulnerabilities guy, asked me.

  “Nope. I was just in the wrong place, right time.”

  “You never saw either of these individuals before?” Shawn asked.

  “Never. They might have been conference-goers or they could have used the busy spot as cover to pass off the hack. But we’d never met and I don’t recall either one being in my seminar either.”

  “We’ve already pulled the attendance records for HACK CON,” Grant said. “We’re running them now.”

  Marek, the guy from the OSI, tapped his pencil on the table, studied me intently. “So, how did you know it was a hack?”

  “I didn’t at first. I examined the code and even followed it a little way on my laptop. It didn’t take me long to figure out where it was headed. Taken in context, I had a dangerous virtual trail toward the NSA and a lot of money in cash. It all pointed in one direction.”

  “So you just decided to stop it?” Sam asked. He looked surprised.

  “Well, I tried. Obviously, she didn’t buy it. She knew I’d gotten a look at the code, so she tried to kill me.”

  Slash tensed beside me and I resisted the urge to reassure him with a pat on the arm.

  “Why didn’t you keep the code?” Grant asked.

  “By the time I’d realized what it was, it was too late. She was already there and had snatched it from me.”

  Shawn tapped something on his keyboard and a picture appeared on the overhead screen. “We’ve retrieved security footage from the hotel. There is no hotel surveillance footage in the bar, but the hotel does have security cameras on several of the hotel entrances. Our team has reviewed the past twelve hours of footage so far. At this point, we’ve only found the time of arrival and departure of the young man who gave you the money.”

  A grainy picture appeared on the screen. Shawn tapped a few more keys and the footage magnified. Sure enough it was the guy with the T-shirt who had handed off the money and code. The oversize sunglasses and cap obscured his face, but the T-shirt was unmistakable.

  “That’s him,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” Grant asked.

  “I’m sure. He seemed young, nervous, inexperienced. I think he really was just a courier. And a bad one, at that.”

  “It’s not enough for the facial recognition software,” Slash mused.

  I glanced down the table at Shawn. “Did you get any footage of the woman?”

  He adjusted something on his screen. “We’re not sure. We need you to look at the possibilities. Can you go through the footage with us?”

  “Sure.”

  We spent the next fifty minutes reviewing the video from the hotel entrance stopping on females who generally fit her profile. None were a match.

  I leaned back in my chair. “She’s not there.”

  Trevor rolled a pen back and forth between his palms. “So, how did she get in and out of the hotel?”

  Shawn shook a head. “Either she wore a disguise or she must have known about the cameras. My guess is that since she was able to follow Ms. Carmichael so quickly after they met, she deliberately chose an entrance without a camera. Which meant she was paying attention to security. That smacks of a professional.”

  “A hacker who does wet work?” Charlie asked. “Really?”

  Trevor’s gaze swiveled to Slash before Grant cleared his throat. “We can’t assume her dual abilities are coincidental. It’s unusual, but a thread to pull.”

  Shawn glanced at me. “Did you get a look at her when you were in your car, Ms. Carmichael?”

  “I did, which is why I can say with one hundred percent certainty that the woman in the car who was trying to kill me is the same one I met in the bar.”

  “Then we have to assume she’s a pro and trained in methods other than hacking,” Grant said. “She did her homework in advance and didn’t leave anything to chance.”

  “Did you lift her fingerprints from the car?” Charlie asked.

  “We got nothing,” Shawn answered.

  “She was wearing gloves,” I said. “I saw them when she pulled up alongside of me and shot at me.”

  Marek made notes on his paper and then rubbed his forehead, his pen still between his fingers. “Ms. Carmichael, would you be willing to work with an FBI forensic artist to try to recreate this woman’s face?”

  “Of course.”

  The room fell silent and all eyes went to Grant. He exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, no point in delaying it any further. I’ve got more bad news. We’ve been doing some hard digging these past twelve hours. I wanted to be sure that the IAD hack was an isolated incident. I’m sorry to report it wasn’t. We found another intrusion of similar style.”

  Slash tensed. “Where?”

  I winced inwardly on his behalf. I hated that all of this, any of this, was happening on his watch.

  “SIGINT.”

  SIGINT is the NSA’s Signals Intelligence, which involves collecting foreign intelligence from countries’ communications and information systems. There was absolutely no freaking way the system could have been penetrated, along with IAD, without high-ranking insider help. This mole was way more serious than I had envisioned, and I had envisioned something pretty serious.

  I inhaled sharply. “So, I only intercepted one hack.”

  “Yes.” Grant pushed his pad of paper away. At the moment he looked a lot older than the fifty-plus years I’d pegged him for. “There may be even more. We can’t remain complacent thinking we’ve found them all. We’ve mobilized a few additional teams and are searching for more.”

  Charlie tapped some keys on the laptop. I couldn’t tell what he was doing. “The good news is that the hacks are similar in style. Our insider either wasn’t comfortable with mixing it up or it was too dangerous and time-consuming to make them all different.”

  “He, or she, only needed one of the hackers to get through,” Slash murmured. “If one hacker failed, there would be another trail to the door.”

  We all digested that along with the sickening thought that there could be a lot more hacks occurring undetected at this very moment.

  Grant inclined his head. “So, does anyone care to speculate on any theories as to who ordered the hack and who responded, in terms of the insider?”

  “The woman in the bar who met and subsequently chased Ms. Carmichael was Asian with a slight accent.” Trevor crossed his arms, rested them on the table. “I think we have to put the Chinese on the table.”

  Whether it was intentional or not, several people glanced at Charlie.

  He whistled and held up his hands in a time-out motion. “Whoa. Let’s not start racial profiling here. My grandparents were from Taiwan. None of us harbor any love for the communists. I’ve passed every single security clearance with flying colors. If you don’t believe that, you can put me first for another round of lie detector tests. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  It seemed totally unfair that Charlie was being singled out because of his heritage. Apparently Slash didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking either.

  “We have no proof the woman in the bar and chasing Lexi was Chinese,” he said. “If we do put the Chinese on the table, it has to be because of our capture of Jiang Quon and...” He let his sentence trail off without finishing.

  “And what?” Marek asked.

  Slash exchanged a glance with Grant and Trevor, but no one answered Marek’s question.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Look, if you want our help, you’re going to have to fill us in. Otherwise, we’re hamst
rung.”

  Trevor looked up and he, Grant and Slash seemed to come to an unspoken agreement.

  “IAD has been working on a counteroffensive against the Chinese, led by Slash.” Grant dipped his head in Slash’s direction. “We’ve been assisted by Jiang Quon, who has been, ah, cooperating with us.”

  “Quon’s alive?” I asked in surprise. I’d had a personal run-in with Quon just a few weeks earlier when he’d tried to kidnap me in an attempt to lure Slash to him. Some torture involving me had occurred, but that was another story. In the end, we’d nabbed him. The last time I’d seen Quon, Slash had been dragging him off a plane for a “professional discussion,” which I didn’t think involved tea and crumpets.

  “Yes. He’s in CIA custody and providing us with valuable intelligence,” Grant replied.

  I didn’t know how or why Quon was cooperating and figured they wouldn’t tell me if I asked. Not that I really wanted to know.

  “Okay, then I’ll ask the painful question.” Grant took a moment to assess each of us. Perhaps he thought he could elicit a guilty confession or determine guilt by evasion using the sheer power of his eye contact. As he went around the table, the room remained silent. After a moment he asked, “Any theories as to who among us is helping the hackers?”

  The silence was deafening. Several of the men shifted uneasily in their chairs, but no one offered a theory. Slash sat motionless. His jaw was tight, his eyes angry. Someone had penetrated his domain and he didn’t like it one bit. Not that I liked it much either.

  As the silence stretched on, I tried to take the tension down a notch. “It might be easier to determine who the insider is and why, if we figure out the reason IAD and SIGINT personnel databases were two of the targets.”

  “Maybe the hacker was looking for someone in the department to blackmail,” Sam offered.

  “Like they need more names after the Office of Personnel Management hack,” Charlie grumbled.

  Millions of Americans who applied for a security clearance or had been interviewed in the process of a security investigation had their security information stolen in a massive hack that had been traced back to the Chinese.

  “They could be fishing,” I offered. “Even if they can’t trace your counteroffensive back to this department, they’ve got to know it’s being run by IAD. It’s just a simple leap of logic. But what they intend to do with the personnel data is potentially alarming.”

  “This isn’t making any sense.” Trevor referred to his notes and then shook his head in defeat. “If they know who or what they want, why the complicated hacks? I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. If you’ve got someone on the inside at this level, why not memorize simple data like that and pass it on without lifting a finger. These are hacks with a purpose.”

  “A landing point?” Sam suggested. “A jumping spot to something else?”

  “No.” Slash’s voice was hard and clipped. “We haven’t been able to find any evidence the hack served as a jumping point. The personnel databases were the intended targets. We need to figure out why.”

  “I believe that the most pressing matter at the moment is who we are looking for within our own ranks.” Grant’s gray eyebrows met together in a frown. Someone in the company had betrayed him and everyone else working here, and it was sure to be someone he’d trusted. I knew firsthand how much that kind of betrayal could hurt.

  “The first-pass analysis of the code indicates it could only have been written from someone among our ranks here in IAD,” he continued. “That means we have a mole among us. Therefore, unless I personally authorize it, there will be no vacations or absences for you, or anyone in your departments, without clearance from me first. We start drilling now.”

  Having worked at the NSA, I knew what he meant by drilling. Everyone in IAD would now be undergoing a lie detector test and extensive interviews in the next couple of weeks. There would also be a thorough investigation of finances, health, marriage and sexual history. That was part of the reason I’d left the agency. I’m a private person, and they left no stone unturned, no matter how embarrassing.

  At this moment, my history would be thoroughly analyzed, even though I was no longer an official part of the NSA. Luckily a good look at my bank account and personal assets wouldn’t raise any unusual flags. But my personal relationship with Slash would certainly raise an eyebrow or two, and that would be thoroughly investigated. Even though I had nothing to hide, I felt my cheeks heat.

  The hunt for the mole was on.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Slash and I left the NSA, I slipped my hand into his. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. I could already see the start of a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin. “So, do you think I’m still in danger?”

  He nodded and I appreciated that he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for me. “We have to assume so. Right now you are the only one who can positively identify her.”

  “Only if I see her again.”

  “You will,” Slash corrected. “We’re going to find her.”

  “I believe that, Slash. But we can’t assume she’s operating alone. What if someone else comes at me? What about the mole?”

  Slash abruptly stopped, lowered his sunglasses and put both hands on my shoulders. “If someone comes at you, they have to go through me. Which means no one is going to hurt you. Not on my watch. Not ever. Okay?”

  I nodded, so he took a deep breath and adjusted his sunglasses before taking my hand and heading for his car. “Just so you know, we’ve each been assigned an FBI detail in case we have to split up,” he said. “But I don’t foresee that happening, because I’m staying with you as much as possible until this situation is resolved.”

  I had no idea how long that would take, but the thought of being with him in perpetuity didn’t bother me. Apparently our relationship was progressing.

  “So, what’s the next move?” I asked as I climbed into the car. I fastened my seat belt and rolled my neck a couple of times to release the tension and stiffness. My forehead and knee hurt, which meant I needed another pain pill. “I suppose everyone in that room is removed from investigating the hack. They’re all suspects. Us, too, I guess.

  Slash hopped in and pushed the key in the ignition. “It’s standard protocol. OSI will assign an outside team to investigate the insider threat. Officially our job is tracing that hack back to its master. Just so we’re clear, it won’t stop Grant, Trevor, Charlie, Sam or me from investigating each other.”

  “I figured.”

  “So, where are we going to start?”

  He kept his eyes on the road as we passed by the guard gate. “With a consult.”

  “The Zimmermans?”

  He nodded. There was no one in the US who would know as much as Slash did about the NSA’s networks other than the Zimmerman twins. Elvis and Xavier were two of my best friends in the world and also former NSA employees.

  “Do you know if the twins are available?”

  Slash slid his cell phone from his jacket pocket and punched a button. “I’m about to find out.” Pressing the phone to his ear he listened and then said, “It’s me. Are you and Xavier busy? I need a consult.”

  He paused, listening. “Si. Twenty minutes.” He hung up and slid the phone into his jacket pocket. “They’re available.”

  “Wow.” I lifted my hands. “No hello? How are you? What’s up?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m a guy. The rest is extraneous. Since when did you care about social niceties anyway?”

  I thought about it. “Good question. I don’t know. It just seemed to matter for some reason. Oh, jeez. Does this mean I’m becoming socially proficient? My mother won’t believe it.”

  Slash smiled and turned on the stereo. Piano music soared through the car. I rummaged in my purse, pulled out my bottle of pain pills, th
en tapped one onto the palm of my hand and took it, stealing Slash’s bottle of water in the cup holder to wash it down.

  It took us twenty minutes to get to the Zimmermans’ ranch-style house, which was about ten minutes from my apartment.

  Elvis opened the door before we knocked. He was dressed in a light blue flannel shirt and jeans. Despite the cool air, he was barefoot.

  “Hey, Slash. Lexi.” He looked at my forehead. “Wow. What happened to you?”

  “A small accident.”

  “Again? You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The way he looked at me meant he knew better, but he didn’t press. “Come in.” He stepped to the side, holding open the door. “Xavier is already getting things set up.”

  Elvis glanced over my shoulder as two dark sedans pulled over to the curb and parked. His eyes met mine. “Two tails? Do I want to know what that is about?”

  “You will soon enough,” I murmured as I passed him.

  Elvis closed the door behind us and led us into the living room, which had been converted into the twins’ command center. Computers, laptops and monitors stood on nearly every inch of flat surface with cords, wires and cables running across the floor and along the baseboards. Because of the sensitive electronic equipment, the room was kept at an especially cold temperature. I picked up a blanket that had been tossed over the back of a chair and wrapped it around my shoulders. The twins kept it there primarily for me. I wondered if anyone else ever used it.

  Xavier, in a short-sleeved black T-shirt with a picture of Darth Vader on it, swung around in his swivel chair and waved. His shirt said Let’s Get Sith Faced. I chuckled and gave him a thumbs-up. He winked at me and stood. “Hey, dudes. Good to see the both of you.”

  “Always a pleasure,” I said, walking over and giving him a hug. “Nice shirt.”

  He grinned and looped an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll give you one for Christmas.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  Elvis shook his head at us with a smile and then turned to Slash. “So, what’s this consult about? If you need our help, I know it’s going to be interesting. What are you looking for?”