Breaking the Honor Code

by Stanalei Fletcher

  Drew circled behind her. “I hacked into your systems, stole the data files and set up the leaks to the press. Once you were assigned to beef up the firewall, it was a matter of letting my little malware copy your annotations.”

  “You’re obviously very skilled.” Allison hoped her tone sounded like professional admiration. “Why do you need me? What do you want me to do, that you can’t do for yourself?”

  He stopped pacing and stood on the other side of her chair. He smiled as though pleased by her acknowledgement of the genius of his work. Reaching across a keyboard, he tapped a manila file folder lying next to the monitor and slid it toward her.

  She looked at the file and then at Drew.

  A hush fell over the room as though everyone collectively held their breaths.

  She lifted the folder and looked inside. The only item in the file was a single sheet of paper. In the center of the page, in bold, black letters was a name.

  Dean Weston.

  Allison studied it without blinking. Of course. Now she knew why Drew’s real name sounded familiar. Northstar had a case file on Dean Weston. He’d been arrested for kidnapping Senator Burnsworth’s wife and attempting to blackmail him to prevent a program that would potentially cripple the drug trade coming into the U.S. via Mexican cartels. At present, Weston was in FBI custody awaiting his first hearing. Allison couldn’t recall any other details.

  She closed the file and put it on the table. “Dean is a relative? A step-brother?”

  “Half-brother. But I’ll give you a silver star for effort.” Drew smirked.

  “I still don’t understand what you want with me.”

  “You’re going to get my son out of prison,” Mrs. Weston snapped. She glared at Drew as though she was tired of his game.

  “Your son?” Allison asked. More pieces fell into place. It was a family affair. A mother and son conspired to free the wronged sibling. She faced Mrs. Weston. “What makes you think I can release your son from a federal prison?”

  “Because if you don’t, you can watch how long it takes this boy to die.” The older woman’s face grew ugly as she spoke. “He’ll suffer, just as my son has suffered in that godforsaken hole.”

  What they wanted was impossible. A cold knot tightened in Allison’s stomach. “I don’t have the authority.”

  Drew slid closer. “We don’t need authorization. Once you’ve removed the evidence against him, the authorities will be forced to release him.”

  “But there are so many files—”

  “No.” He ran a hand over the top of the monitor. “Not yet. Dean’s case hasn’t been brought up for prosecution yet. They’re holding him as a suspected terrorist. He hasn’t even seen a lawyer.” He circled behind Allison’s chair again. The way he paced from side to side made Allison feel like a lamb stalked by a hungry wolf.

  “How do you know about the case files on your brother?” She thought she knew what might be happening with Weston’s case, but she wanted Drew’s take on the situation.

  He moved closer to Allison and wound a strand of her hair around his finger. It was all she could do to sit motionless until he yanked and pulled her close. She swallowed the pain. This she could endure, but if they hurt Mitchell…

  Drew’s hot breath washed over her face as he spoke. “There are only two places where his files are kept. We know, because the FBI has him in custody for questioning, but haven’t charged him yet.” He pulled tighter on her hair. “You see, it’s all very civil and legal under the USA Freedom Act.” He released her and shoved her backward.

  Allison caught herself from falling out of the chair.

  “We’ve petitioned every government agency for help.” Mrs. Weston’s shrill voice filled the room. “No one will even talk to us. It’s like my son has dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Drew’s and his mother’s resentment were evident. Even though Allison had been involved in the assignment to find the senator’s kidnapped wife, it wasn’t her place to say whether or not Dean Weston was innocent. “So one of the files is with the FBI. And the other?”

  “Stupid girl.” Mrs. Weston scowled and pulled Mitchell to stand directly in front of her. “See how stupid your auntie is? She can’t even figure it out.” The woman glared at Allison as she spoke. “It’s at Northstar. It’s all that damned Byron O’Neal’s fault. He put my baby in prison. He is going to pay.”

  “Calm down, Mother.” Drew took a step toward Mrs. Weston. “You know what the doctors said about getting too upset.” He turned to Allison. “Surely, you can see our plan by now. We started small. Leaking stories from Northstar’s case files, generating questions about Northstar’s integrity, and shedding doubt on the firm. Sweet revenge for what they did to my brother, to be sure. But it also forced you to search for the leak. Once you started opening up the system to fix things, it allowed my malware to do its job.”

  Allison shrank back in horror at his words. She had seen the result of his handiwork. O’Neal, Tom, herself—they had all been played. The result was the devastation of a company that had helped maintain security for countless citizens for two decades. The firm brought many criminals to justice. What Drew Getty had done could destroy O’Neal and Northstar Security Firm forever.

  Allison realized she must first save herself and Mitchell. Then, if she could prevent the firm from falling into ruin, she would. Regardless of O’Neal’s lost faith in her, she couldn’t let all his good work be destroyed.

  Drew indicated there were two sets of files, one at Northstar, and the other at the FBI. She studied the information on the screen. A seed of an idea started to grow. Maybe… “You want me to erase the files?” Allison asked to confirm their intentions.

  “That’s our plan.” Drew inclined his head. “Delete them. Remove all traces of the evidence against Dean.”

  “You’ve been in the Northstar systems.” Allison frowned. “Why didn’t you do this yourself?”

  “I was only in part of your system. I searched for Dean’s file, but couldn’t find it.” Drew rolled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I could brute force my way through your encryption and destroy every single file, but then it would look like it was done from the outside. But if you do it,” he paused, “it won’t be forced, no suspicion. No one will be the wiser, and then Dean will be free.”

  “You’ve already placed suspicion on me.”

  “True.” He gave a sly wink. “But they still don’t know your motive. They’re distracted and won’t see this coming until it’s too late.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  Drew’s face twisted into an evil smile. “Please don’t make us hurt the boy.”

  Allison lifted her chin. She wouldn’t show fear. “You’re going to kill us when this is done, anyway.”

  “No!” Mitchell shouted.

  Allison tried to keep a brave front for her nephew. “I’m sorry, Mitchell, but they won’t let us live. We can identify them. We know what they’ve done.”

  “Poor Allison.” Drew chuckled. “I forgot the best part.”

  Allison stared. What was he talking about? The Westons couldn’t possibly afford to let her and Mitchell live.

  “Everyone has skeletons in their closets. Even you, dear Allison.” Drew pointed at the computer as he explained. “We planted evidence against you. Why do you think it was so easy for O’Neal and Delano to suspect you of betraying them?”

  “What are you talking about?” Her blood ran cold, wondering what Drew had on her that would turn O’Neal against her.

  “Once we decided which of Northstar’s techs to frame, we went on a treasure hunt. Inside your personnel file, we found an appeal to investigate the shooting that killed your partner.”

  “But that appeal was turned down. Northstar left the investigation to the local authorities.” Allison couldn’t imagine how that would raise any flags.

  “We know. We took the liberty of planting your footprints in the data file, along with some not-so-hidden data. It
will look like you tried to have it deleted, but when it’s recovered, it will reveal that you were driving the patrol car. And when your partner exited the car he was shot immediately.”

  Drew squeezed her right shoulder. She winced as pain shot down her arm and through the ends of her fingers.

  “Your wound.” Drew squeezed just a little harder. “Is from your attempt to run away from the gun battle.”

  “That’s not true!” Mitchell shouted. “I’ll tell them the truth. They’ll believe me.”

  “Shut up, boy.” Mrs. Weston hissed. “They won’t believe a kid.” She spun Mitchell around to face her. “They wouldn’t believe me when I told them my son was innocent. And I’m the wife of a judge.”

  Allison felt blood drain from her face. The pain in her shoulder was intense. Throbbing crept up her neck and the room spun. She realized with cold certainty that Drew’s plan would work.

  There was evidence against her, evidence even he didn’t know about. Allison had felt she let Reggie down. She’d said as much to her supervisor, to the internal investigation board, and to the police psychiatrist. Written documentation transcribed from her own words would ring with more truth than any official police report. Between Drew’s planted evidence, and O’Neal’s suspicion she was the hacker, she would be arrested and convicted for falsifying a police report. But worse, she would have to watch anguish crush Reggie’s widow as the whole incident was opened up again.

  She bit hard on her lower lip to distract herself from the pain inflicted by Drew’s grip. This pain she could control. Control was what she needed right now.

  “Mitchell. Listen to me.” Allison spoke quietly to calm him, to keep him from aggravating their captors. “It will be all right. If I do what they want, we’ll be okay.”

  Drew released her shoulder. It was all Allison could do not to shrink further into her chair.

  Mitchell’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. He seemed so small and helpless. Yet stoic and brave. He was growing up right in front of her eyes. “You’ll go to jail.” Mitchell stated it with understanding beyond his nine years. “You’re innocent—and they will still put you in jail.”

  “You’ll be free,” Allison reasoned. “If I don’t do what they ask, we’ll both be killed.”

  Death was a frightening thing to a young boy. Gruesome and final, but Mitchell didn’t give in. He straightened his shoulders and wiped his eyes. His chin lifted. “What about the warrior code? What about honor?”

  At that moment, Allison couldn’t have been prouder of her nephew. Mitchell had given her a way out. Her seedling of an idea sprouted. Inside the blink of an eye, her idea grew to the stature of an oak tree. The heartbreak of her plan was allowing Mitchell to believe his ideals were useless, that the code of honor meant nothing. Against the reality of their situation, she’d have to lie to him. She didn’t know if she could.

  “I’m sorry, Mitchell,” she whispered. “Those things aren’t going to work here. I made a promise to your mother to keep you safe. That promise is more important than anything else. I have to do what they ask.” She stared into his earnest eyes. “Please forgive me.”

  “No,” Mitchell shouted. “Don’t.”

  She shut her mind against his pleas and faced the computer. She didn’t dare look in Mitchell’s direction again, if she did, she might lose her resolve.

  “Please, Aunt Allison. Don’t. It’s wrong. You’ll lose your honor.”

  The tension in the room rose. Everyone seemed affected by the young boy’s disillusioned outburst.

  Allison spoke to Drew Getty. “I will do what you ask—if you let him go.”

  “Not until it’s done. He’s our insurance, you see.” He raised his palms in a shrug.

  Allison nodded. She hadn’t expected a different answer. She’d been trusted to care for Mitchell and she owed it to her sister to do everything in her power to honor that trust.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Inside the state-of-the-art computer lab, Allison studied the information on the monitor. To most people the tangle of words and numbers was gibberish, but to her it was the language of logic—plain and simple. Here, amidst what appeared to be unusable information, was her way out.

  “I’ll start with the FBI files.” She nodded toward the computer.

  “There. You see, Mother?” Drew looked over expectantly at his mother. “Our Dean will be home in no time.”

  Mrs. Weston jerked her head, and then motioned to the guard, who walked to the back of her wheelchair. “I’m taking the boy with me.” She kept her grip tight on Mitchell’s arm. “I don’t trust her. Watch her every move.”

  Allison gave Mrs. Weston a cold stare as she was wheeled toward the door, pushing Mitchell ahead of her. He tripped, trying to stay out of the way of the wheelchair.

  “Please.” Allison turned to Drew. “Mitchell hasn’t had anything to eat or drink.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Mitchell sulked.

  Drew crossed to the guard and whispered something. The guard nodded and exited the room with the woman and Mitchell.

  “There’s a meal waiting for him.” Drew returned to stand beside Allison’s chair.

  Allison had noticed his disappointed expression as he watched his mother’s exit. It occurred to her that Mrs. Weston wasn’t grateful for Drew’s efforts to rescue her other son. Allison wondered if she could use this knowledge to her advantage. To Drew, she said, “Thank you.”

  “Why are you starting with the FBI files?” He turned the conversation away from Mitchell and back to Allison’s task with the computer files. “I thought Northstar’s files would be easier.”

  She expected the question and had her answer ready. Simple and logical, something any computer tech would appreciate. In this situation, the answer would stroke Drew’s ego.

  “You’ve already done most of the work for me. It’s right there on the screen. I can backtrack to the safe house IP you captured, and tap through the FBI firewall connection into their mainframe.”

  He smiled, seemingly pleased with her assessment. “Happy to be of assistance.”

  Allison started typing. “Your mother didn’t seem impressed with your plan.”

  “She doesn’t understand the skills it takes to accomplish something this elaborate, that’s all.” His answer was sharp, and for a moment, hurt seemed to fill his eyes. He recovered quickly, but not before she noticed.

  “Well, I have to admit, you’ve made the last several weeks very difficult for me. I hate being bested.” Allison continued to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

  He found another chair and sat down beside her. With him so close, her skin crawled, but she tried not to let it show.

  “I went to the best schools. Excelled in all my classes. Graduated with honors from MIT.” His voiced climbed in pitch. “I could have had any job I wanted in the country, until Dean—”

  Allison caught the unfinished sentence. Dean Weston’s misstep hadn’t only landed him in jail, he’d hurt his entire family.

  “It seems your brother didn’t think of anyone but himself when he broke the law.” She knew she was pushing, but she wanted to keep Drew talking.

  “He’s the baby of the family. Mother’s favorite.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “No sooner was he arrested, then she started in on me. ‘Hurry home, Drew, your brother’s in trouble and we have to help him.’” Drew’s falsetto imitation eerily resembled his mother’s voice.

  Allison couldn’t think of a reply so she remained silent as she worked her way into the FBI computers, breaking every cyber-law on the books. Finally. “I’m in!” She stared at the federal logo of justice and truth.

  Drew jumped up. “Yes. Delete the file, now.”

  Allison removed her hands from the keyboard. She had no illusions that Drew and his goons would let her live. The story about letting her rot in jail was an empty threat. This might be her only chance to get Mitchell and herself out of this situation alive. She needed to proceed carefully. “I’v
e been thinking about the files.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “If I delete them, there will still be backups and hardcopy evidence.”

  “What are you saying?” His tone was a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

  “The case against your brother will be rebuilt or restored. Take your pick. Either way, all your efforts will be lost.”

  “So how do we prevent that from happening?”

  “The FBI will be suspicious of a missing file. They’ll simply restore it from backups.” She let her words sink in. “But, if I alter the files, change the evidence so it doesn’t implicate Dean, then it won’t leave a hole in the data. No hole. No raised flag. The electronic information will contradict other evidence.” Allison paused. “Reasonable doubt. The FBI will have to let him go.”

  “But that will take more time.”

  She saw the gears grinding as Drew processed her theory.

  “It will be permanent,” she insisted. “The FBI will see the breach, but they’ll be watching for viruses, lost files. They won’t notice altered text until it’s too late.”

  “Why are you willing to do this?” He voiced his suspicion.

  “I want Mitchell set free. If I help you, then you’ll have to keep your word and let us go.” She measured her tone to sound both hopeful and trusting.

  She saw him hesitate. Her suggestion was outside the parameters he’d discussed with his mother. Allison hoped he didn’t have to ask for permission to alter the plan. His mother might be more suspicious about Allison’s motives than her son.

  “Okay. Do it.”

  Allison’s heart raced and her throat went dry. He’d bought it! It took effort to remain calm and put her hands back on the keyboard. After a few keystrokes, she started to cough. She stopped typing and brought her hand to her mouth and attempted to clear her throat. Now was not the time to show her nerves. She started typing again, but her cough grew worse. “Could I have a drink of water?” she asked with a croak.

  Drew’s eyes narrowed at her request, but he left his chair and walked to the door to talk to the guard.

  Her coughing fit started again, but she continued typing—the noise drowning out the sound of her keystrokes. She glanced over her shoulder. Drew’s back was still turned.