Kill Code

by Joseph Collins

  “Is that why you are helping me?”

  “Yes.”

  Leo consulted a map, and then pulled onto the highway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need some open space to think. Hell, a city park will do, but the bigger the area, the better.”

  “Why?”

  “It's just the way that I am. I live twenty minutes from the desert and have grown used to it as a place to figure things out.”

  They drove in silence for a while.

  “Did you find what you were looking for in Patrick Lackey's desk?” Leo asked.

  She had completely forgotten about why they had taken the risk of going back to her business.

  Pulling out the sheath of papers, she quickly read them out loud to Leo.

  When she was done, he said, “So, it looks like most of the money that had been in the company ended up in one place. What was the name of it?”

  She found the notation and said, “A company called, 'Alamut Enterprises.'“

  “Excuse me?”

  “What?”

  “Say that again.”

  “Alamut Enterprises.”

  Leo chuckled. “No sense in being obvious about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, who is considered the first computer programmer?”

  “That's easy, Ada Lovelace. She wrote software for Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine. Why do you ask?”

  “It's like Ada Lovelace being part of who you are; any student of the history of political assassination knows that Alamut means ‘Eagle's Nest.’ It's the name of the fortress from which the original Persian assassins in 1090 originated. A bunch of real hardcore killers led by a guy by the name of al-Hasan ibn-al-Sabbah. They terrified the ancient Muslim world with their assassinations. Marco Polo wrote about them when he came through that area, noting that they used hashish before going on their assignments. From where we probably got the word assassin—ashishin.

  “Anyway, lots of mysterious gobbledygook hidden in the mists of time. Probably like naming your hacking company Hackers Incorporated.”

  “Well, there are two types of hackers, 'Black Hats' who maliciously destroy computer systems, and 'White Hats' who enjoy learning about computers, taking them apart, fiddling with them, finding holes in security, all for the greater good.”

  Leo nodded, “I wondered where the name of your company came from. There wouldn't happen to be an address or something similar in that file?”

  She looked through it again, “Nope. Which is what I would expect out of Patrick. He wanted to know where the money went, and was probably satisfied when he found the account numbers.”

  “Is there any way you can find out an address from an account number?”

  “Not that I am aware of. Remember, I wrote software for banks. They may not be on the cutting edge of computer technology, but they have defense in depth. Secure Socket Layer, or SSL, encrypts everything in their network and outside to the Internet. They have firewalls like you can't believe—set to the standards set by the National Computer Security Association which is run by a bunch of people from the NSA. Yes, it is possible to breach their security, but it's damn hard and you have to be awful lucky.”

  “Could you do it?”

  She considered it for a moment before saying, “There isn't a security system out there that can't be breached. If you can't get at it through the Internet, then you can get to it by direct physical attack. All of them present problems, risks and require lots of time and money.”

  “I have the money. We just don't have the time.”

  Leo was rich? Or he could get large sums of money? He didn't look like it, at first glance, but she had seen that while all of his possessions were well worn from his boots to his truck, they were all very well maintained and probably cost decent money originally. Another data point to add to the equation of this mysterious man.

  “Can we get something from the bank routing number? I seem to remember that it's specific to each bank, maybe even down to the branch.”

  “Sure. There is a web site that can tell you that information. It may not be very up to date because of all the recent banking problems, mergers and buyouts. But it would get us pointed in the right direction.”

  There was a crook in her back from sitting in the same place too long. Settling back in the seat, she said, “I wish we could have snagged one of the computers, or heck, even a cell phone from the sniper device. It might give us some clues as to who is after us.”

  Leo looked at her. “You are looking for a cell phone or computer from one of the guys after us for information? How about a Blackberry?”

  “You have one? From the sniper?” How the hell had he managed to pull that off?

  “Nope. But someone tried to kill me, didn't, and as a prize, I got his Blackberry. I've been carrying it around since then, though I did take the battery out.”

  What other things did Leo have up his sleeve?

  “Well, where is it?”

  He reached across her and popped open the glove box. His presence, in her space, startled her. They were so close that she could feel the heat from his body and the smell of his skin.

  She wasn't sure how she felt about this.

  Forcing herself back on task, she took the Blackberry and its battery from his gentle but calloused hand.

  “It was a pain figuring out how to get the battery out. I was about ready to simply destroy it rather than leave it someplace where it could lead to me.”

  She popped open the back of the Blackberry and slid the battery into place.

  “That's a cell phone, right? Can someone trace us with it?”

  “Yes, but I have a way around that.”

  Putting the cover back on, she reached into her duffel bag.

  “What's that, wrap it in foil or something like that?”

  “Nope, something a lot more sophisticated, a cell phone jammer. It's an invention of my own design, based on a schematic that I found on the Internet. It's a multiple band jammer, and can even block some of the European frequency hopping cell phones. If it transmits between 800 megahertz and 2200 megahertz, and is within thirty feet of us, it won't work.”

  She found the device she was looking for, not much bigger than a pack of playing cards with two short, stubby antennas sticking out the top. Flipping a switch, a red LED started glowing.

  “We're protected.”

  “Okay.” Leo didn't seem impressed.”I also have the ability to jam WiFi and GPS and almost any other frequency I'd like. The cool thing is that this single device self tunes using phase locked-loop and is driven by a micro-controller. Quite a sophisticated design, if you ask me.”

  Leo growled, “I'm not asking. What have you found?”

  She realized that she was treating Leo like she would some of the computer geeks that she hung out with. While he may be a 'gun geek,' he probably didn't have the education or inclination to understand her world and appreciate the things that she could do.

  She flipped through the screens on the Blackberry. The call log had been deleted, but there may be a way around that. The Blackberry is simply a very small computer and it stored things like computers do—when something is deleted, mark off the space allocated by the deleted file as 'available' and continue on your way.

  The contact list was blank and there were no e-mails or anything else of interest saved. There was, however a SIM—Subscriber Identity Module—card with this particular model and while she couldn't directly access it here, there might be important information saved on it. The information on the SIM not only included information allowing the phone to access cellular networks, they often contained a phone book and copies of any messages sent—deleted or not.

  She wasn't that familiar with this particular model, so it took a bit for her to find out if a memory card was installed—yes, there was one.

  Powering down the device, she popped open the back and removed both the SD memory card and the SIM card. While she had
n't ever really had any interest in cell phone hacking, she knew the exact person who could help her.

  “Find anything?” Leo asked.

  “Nothing that I can use right now. I will have to talk with someone else about reading these cards.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it's an area of expertise that I don't have. Hackers specialize, and I know just the person we need to see.”

  “Who?”

  She tucked the chips into a static proof plastic bag that she found in her duffel and tossed the Blackberry in after it.

  “I'll give you the directions to get to his place.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Leo started the truck up and pulled into traffic.

  ###

  Leo didn't know what to make of Jackie's performance. Was she trying to impress him? It was like she had been a giddy school girl. Maybe it had been the adrenaline burning off that had caused it. He had plenty of experience in dealing with it and knew that the feelings were like riding a roller coaster—you were thrilled as hell to be alive, and then you hit bottom, often with a depressive crash.

  He knew that the cycle would continue for the next couple of days and she would have to find some way to take the edge off. Leo had long experience with the adrenaline highs and lows and knew that in a couple of hours he would be ravenously hungry. Sex was often a great release, but Leo didn't subscribe to that particular thinking as it opened you up to other vulnerabilities.

  Despite it being Saturday morning, there was a great deal of traffic. Leo carefully made his way through the streets, always driving at two miles per hour less than the speed limit and obeying all traffic laws to the letter. It wouldn't pay at all to get pulled over for a simple traffic violation with all the specialized equipment he had in the truck. After the shooting, he hadn't had the time to properly stow and hide it. While it wouldn't be noticed during a cursory search, why even take the chance?

  Leo was also anxious to follow up on the Alamut Enterprises information. Why would a company that specialized in assassinations be so obvious about what they were up to? Hiding behind obscure historical facts that very few people knew was one thing, but all it would take would be a simple Internet search to track down a bunch of history about the meaning behind the name.

  That they were so obvious meant something, but Leo couldn't figure out what. It might be as simple a thing as that it was a shell company that led to someplace else. Anyone trying to find out more about the company would set off trip wires that would trigger a lethal response.

  Another explanation was that the company had protection from the government or governments. Deniability for your dirty work was always something that Leo understood—if captured and tortured, he had no links back to the US government. Another point was that he had an expensive and very specialized tool and didn't require the skill set that say, a SEAL did. Why invest a huge amount of money and time into skills that a long distance shooter wouldn't ever need or use?

  So, letting a company do your dirty work on command, be deniable and cheaper than a cruise missile strike, was an obvious reason to look the other way when they conducted their business.

  But how would you go about making such a company, obviously protected by the government at some level, leave him and Jackie alone? Finding the name and address would only be the start of the problem. Somehow, they needed to find a way to leverage the company into forgetting them on a permanent basis. This wasn't going to be easy to do when it would always be cheaper and easier to just kill them both and walk away.

  Any company had vulnerabilities that could be exploited for various reasons. The concern was, how do you find them and use them when the company may be protected by the federal government, which had infinite resources, time, money and really didn't care about squashing an annoying bug or two?

  The data contained on the Blackberry might be an inside into the company. He was way the hell outside feeling comfortable. Just give him a target, put a rifle in his hands and step back—all this spooky stuff was enough to make your head hurt.

  Jackie broke him from his thoughts, saying, “We're here.”

  Leo looked around. They were in a strip mall, way too public for Leo's taste with the number of people walking around, some burdened with packages. Hadn't they just burned down a building not a ten minute drive from here?

  “Pull in here,” she said, motioning to a parking slot in front of a cell phone store. Leo noticed the camera pointed right at them and kept driving.

  “Why didn't you park there? It was perfect.”

  “Except that it was being watched by a video camera. The fewer of those that we show up on, the better.”

  She was quiet as he found a place towards the back of the parking lot and backed the truck in so they could easily get out.

  Not sure what he was getting into, he followed Jackie across the parking lot and into the cell phone store.

  ###

  Jeff Silver was not having a good day and the FBI was having an even worse one. The bank robbers had gotten away with almost a hundred thousand dollars without leaving a clue. It was like they were ghost—appearing to rob the bank and then disappearing into the ether.

  Not one bit of physical evidence was found despite the old adage that “Criminals always take something from a crime scene and always leave something.”

  They knew the location and abilities of all the security cameras, inside and outside the bank. No one saw them leave in a vehicle, but then again, no one saw them walking away on foot—all backed up by the security cameras. The one camera that could have provided valuable information, located across the street at a convenience store and pointing into the parking lot, had been vandalized the night before, and no, the vandal hadn't shown up on any of the cameras either.

  The robbers wore gloves, black clothing and rubber Ronald Reagan masks. Their guns were real based on an interview of the security guard who was fresh out the military after spending three tours in Iraq, in combat every day from the time he landed in-country until he left. It was sad that a decorated and honored veteran could only get a job as a security guard despite his selfless service and sacrifice. Jeff made a note to call a buddy in FBI recruitment to see if there were any job openings in this area for someone who could keep their head while having a gun pointed at them. Maybe the FBI could use him.

  Sipping cold coffee that tasted like road sludge, he stepped back and looked over the scene again. The Albuquerque Fire Department had brought in a light truck that illuminated the front of the bank in a ghastly whiteness and produced strange shadows that were almost as bad as complete darkness.

  He knew that there wasn't going to be anything found here that could help. Crimes weren't solved by forensics, despite the slew of TV shows that seemed to prove otherwise. Shoe leather is what solved crimes—crooks liked to brag and someone, hopefully soon, would talk. Someone, somewhere, knew something and would use it to get themselves out of a bind with the law.

  His cell phone buzzed. Flipping it open he saw that it was a Denver number.

  “Hello?”

  “Special Agent Silver?”

  “Speaking. How may I help you?”

  “This is Detective Chris Lee, of the Denver PD. We were told to be on the look-out for anyone using thermite to disguise a crime. Well, it's happened. Someone almost burnt down a building trying to hide what appears to be a sniper rifle. But not any sniper rifle that you've ever seen; it's sitting in some sort of base and there were a lot of electronics and motors in the debris.”

  “Was anyone shot by it?”

  “No. This is the strange thing; a building up the street had a bullet hole through the glass door, but there wasn't anyone there to shoot at that we can find, no blood, or traces of anyone breaking our crime scene tape.”

  “Crime scene tape?”“Yes. There was a car bombing in front of that location a couple of days ago. The intended victim has dropped off the radar since then. We locked the business up and secured it hoping to pressure her in
to coming to talk to us, yet it hasn't happened.”

  Something sounded strangely familiar about this scene.

  “Thank you very much for the info. Can you forward copies of all the pictures and what your lab finds out about the rifle to us? And if it's too much, or you are too busy, just send the entire mess to the FBI office in Denver and they'll take over the investigation.”

  “Thanks. But you haven't heard the strangest part of it yet.”

  “What's that?”

  “We found two bullet holes that we can't account for.”

  “How is that so strange?”

  “The rifle system was bolt action and fired a .308 caliber bullet. The bullet holes we found were something much faster. And more importantly, they were coming into where the rifle was located, not outgoing.”

  “So, someone was shooting back?”

  “Not from the angle of the bullet holes. We tried to laser it, but ours aren't powerful enough and got lost about a hundred yards away. Based on the angles, the best we can determine was that the other shooter was six hundred yards away. And get this, the two bullet holes were almost touching. Quite remarkable shooting by anyone's standard.

  “Several years ago, I took a sniper class taught by the FBI and while I thought the FBI snipers were really good, this guy, if the shot placement is deliberate, makes them look like rank amateurs.”

  There was something larger going on here. Gut feeling meant a lot to him, and his guts were churning—and it wasn't caused by bad coffee.

  He made a decision. “Seal the crime scene, post an officer and someone will be there shortly, if not me personally.”

  “Great. That means one less case for us to deal with. Can you tell me what this is all about?”

  “Something probably worse than we can imagine.”

  Flipping the phone closed, he went off to find his boss who wasn't going to be happy to have to assign the “Ronald Reagan Robbers” case to someone else. He was going to have to call in a lot of favors to pull this off and really hoped that it would all be worth it. More importantly, he hoped that he would be in time to stop whatever was going to happen next.