Brain Storm (US Edition)

by Nicola Lawson

  Both woman froze in place barely believing their luck. Sara regarded Carla with suspicion. "You said you'd never been here before. I can't believe you got the right code without some prior knowledge of this system. There have to be millions of combinations."

  Carla was still catching her breath recovering from their close call. "I haven't ever been here before." She went on before Sara could interrupt. "The code I entered was my birth date. For some reason Karl cared about me and wanted to protect me so I figured it was worth a shot."

  Sara relaxed a little but gave Carla a lingering look before focusing on what they had come here to do. "Good thinking. Now let's have a look around. Remember no lights or noise."

  Correct operating procedure for conducting a covert search of an area dictated that you leave the area in the exact same state as it was found. Nothing could be left out of place. Even trivial changes could indicate to someone familiar with the setting that there was something amiss. It didn't even have to be a change so noticeable to that person that they noticed it consciously. Sometimes it was the smallest of details that alerted a target without their even being aware of it. They would seem to instinctively know that something was wrong, that was their subconscious having noticed the change warning a person’s conscious mind.

  When you were on the run from an unknown, well-funded and hostile group proper operating procedure went out of the window. Especially when the person who was most familiar with the scene was already dead. There was no need to be meticulous in the search.

  Methodically they went through cupboards, draws, files and wardrobes. The expensive computer terminal and communications terminal were fixed into the back wall of a living room cum study beckoning Sara over to them. Initially she ignored their siren call searching instead for any hard copy information that Grosset could have had lying around.

  She went to the side of the study first. There were half empty bookshelves in the back corner. Some had heralded the dawn of the computer age as being the end of the old fashioned book but many people simply couldn't get used to reading from a computer display for long lengths of time. The defenders of books presented evidence that staring at a screen for too long would damage a person’s eyes and so books were still very much alive. The pile of literature strewn on the floor by the base indicated that the shelves weren't usually so sparsely populated. Sara crouched down to look through the books and magazines on the floor. They were medical texts and journals. Some dealt with general physiology, others concerned genetics and there were some that were too complex and full of scientific names and weird diagrams that Sara didn't know what they dealt with.

  These books were the only things out of place so either Grosset had tossed them onto the floor himself or else somebody had broken in, without leaving any sign of ever being there except for a pile of books on the floor, and they had known exactly what they were looking for and where to find it. Sara's guess was that Grosset had left the mess, no-one would go to the trouble of covering up the fact that they had entered and left the bungalow, even going to the trouble of resetting the alarm system, if they were just going to leave so obvious a sign.

  There was a metal waste basket at the side of the bookcase half hidden by the jumble of stray books. Sara moved closer to it and looked inside. In the bottom of the basket was a selection of ashes. Fire had damaged the inside of the bin when the whatever-it-was was burned up. Sara couldn't tell anything about what had been in there just by looking at the ashes. A forensics team would be able to perform tests to discover the chemical composition of the ashes and from that could extrapolate what the items had been before the fire consumed them.

  Without access to those kinds of resources Sara had to try to work it out the old fashioned way; by relying on luck. She scanned the area of the floor around where the bin had been, gradually scanning further away from the bin until her gaze rested on a triangular piece of paper. The paper was singed all along the longest side of the triangle. It had probably been floated out by convection currents in the air generated by the heat of the fire.

  The bungalow was still in darkness, any light they put on inside would also be seen from outside and could trigger an investigation, but the ambient light was enough for the writing on the paper to be visible. On one side it said; 'therefore the codon sequence cytosine-thymine-aden'. Which Sara took to be something to do with genetics because on the other side in slightly larger type it said; 'ical Genetics. Dr K. Grosset'. Sara assumed that a string of letters followed the name to list the doctor's qualifications but fire had destroyed them.

  She didn't know whether this was a clue, and if it was how it connected to the situation Carla and herself were in. She did have to wonder why Grosset had apparently been destroying articles he had written. But not for long. She stuffed the piece of paper in her pocket in case it turned out to be useful later, though she couldn't imagine how. A quick study of the texts that remained on the shelves showed them to be yet more medical books indistinguishable to Sara from the ones on the floor.

  Carla had been looking through Grosset's wardrobes and drawers in the bedrooms.

  "Found anything?" Sara asked entering the room.

  Carla finished transplanting an armful of pale-blue, machine pressed shirts from the wardrobe onto the bed. Upturned drawers and other items of clothing were already there. "Nothing. No secret compartments. No diary in with his underwear. No keys or anything stuck on the bottom of the drawers."

  Sara was studying the room when Carla asked how her search had gone.

  "Also nothing," she admitted. "It looks like I'll have to try my luck getting into his computer system."

  She turned the terminal on at the power. The terminal had a touch screen display with a graphical representation of a standard keyboard taking up the lower portion of the screen. She was presented with a prompt to enter an access password to make the unit fully active. Sara drummed her fingers on the edge of the screen as she considered. This seemed to be a high end piece of equipment but most terminals followed a standard operating pattern. That meant that the terminal would probably give her three attempts at the password before it went into secure mode and shut her out completely. She couldn't just sit here and enter random words hoping to get lucky. If she tried that it would be just as unlikely that she would hit the right password in three tries as it would have been for her to guess the code for the alarm system before that went off.

  Sara stopped drumming her fingers. "What's your birth date?"

  "What?"

  Sara turned from the terminal screen to Carla. "The code for his alarm system was your birth date so it's worth a try here."

  "Okay." Carla told her and Sara entered the digits. The screen told her the password was denied and prompted her again. Sara tried again this time using the letters to enter Carla's name. Again she didn't gain access and the prompt returned.

  Sara went back to her drumming. This was likely to be her last try and if she was to have any hopes of getting some information she had to get it right. Her fingers hovered next to the graphic keyboard and then she pulled them away. She had no clue what this man's password would be. He wasn't married, had no kids not even any pets. All Sara knew about him was his profession and that for some reason he was connected with what had happened to Carla and herself. Sara was reluctant just to guess now that this was her last try but if she didn't do something she'd never get access anyway.

  Sara typed in the only other phrase she had heard in connection with Grosset. She was about to press enter to confirm that 'brainstorm' was her third try when Carla reached out and grabbed her arm.

  "When you entered my name did you use my full name or just my first name?"

  Sara looked at Carla's earnest face. "I used your first name."

  Carla nodded. "Try both."

  "This is the last try. Don't you think that if you were his password he would just use your first name?"

  Carla shrugged. "Maybe, or maybe that's what he would expect people to think." Ca
rla stared into Sara's eyes her earnest expression was even more intense. "I really think you should try that instead of some stab in the dark."

  Sara looked Carla up and down while she considered her options. After a few moments she deleted brainstorm and went with Carla's suggestion. She held her breath as she hit enter and for a moment even her heart seemed to stop beating. It seemed to take forever for the display to change. Then a small rectangle appeared in the centre before the display went to a standard front-end image, in the rectangle it said; 'password accepted'.

  Sara whirled away from the screen as soon as she saw that they had hit on the correct password. Her gun was in her hand the barrel pointed at Carla's head in the next instant. With a controlled movement she flicked the safety off.

  "I want answers and I want them now."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Carla was literally taken aback by Sara's actions, taking a couple of steps away from the end of the gun. "What . . . what are you doing?"

  Sara regarded the younger woman with professional detachment, she wasn't going to be conned yet again. "I'm getting myself some answers. I want to know what the hell is going on here and I want you to tell me."

  Carla just stood there and plastered her scared expression over her face. Sara ignored it and pressed on. "Start talking."

  Carla stared into her eyes waiting to see sympathy there. Sara kept her expression stony, her eyes were polished marble and betrayed as much emotion.

  Carla worked moisture around her mouth, her eyes were still silently pleading. "I don't know what you expect from me."

  "I expect you to start by telling me the truth. Who do you work for? Why are you trying to manipulate me?"

  Tears leaked from the corner of Carla's eye. "You think I'm a part of this?"

  Sara remained unmoved. "I do."

  Tears were rolling freely down the younger woman's cheeks now. "I can't believe it. You really think this was all some sort of set up. That I'm a willing participant in this conspiracy."

  "You haven't been honest with me. You've been too lucky for me to believe that you don't have some inside knowledge. First, in that prison you knew where there was a door and where the laser traps were, then you hit on the access code for this alarm system and the password for the computer just in the nick of time. It's all just too much for me to accept it as a coincidence."

  Carla wiped the tears from her face. "I don't know what I can say to convince you but a coincidence is exactly what this is. And you were the one who tried my name as the password first. I only suggest a slight variation of it instead of some wholly speculative leap."

  "That doesn't explain any of the other things."

  "Well I'm sorry about that. I don't know how I knew to stop you before you walked into that laser trap, which saved your life by the way, I was just suddenly afraid. Guessing the code for the alarm system was just that, a guess. I can't offer you anything else to convince you that I'm just as much a victim of all this shit as you are. If you still think this is all some sort of game and that I'm involved in trying to play you then you might as well just get it over with and shoot me."

  Carla ignored the weapon that was still pointing at her and walked over to a comfortable chair. She dropped down into the seat. "I guess in your line of work it pays not to trust anyone. Not to have friends in case you have to kill them someday. Well those of us in the real world don't live like that. We have feelings. We can make friends quickly, especially when we save each other’s lives. It hurts us when we find out someone we thought was a friend doesn't trust us. That they'll pull a gun on us and demanded answers without giving it a second thought."

  Sara wasn't used to feeling guilty. Sometimes there would be a moment’s remorse following a job but nothing like this. The hurt and betrayal Carla displayed was a lot for Sara to take, but she did take it. She wasn't going to let herself be manipulated by her emotions. She had to decide whether she could trust what Carla said or whether she needed to ask her to explain more forcefully.

  What decided her in the end was that she couldn't come up with any reason for somebody to be playing this sort of game. There were more subtle ways of manipulating her if they wanted to lead her in certain directions rather than going through this elaborate scheme. If they wanted her to go through Grosset's computer files then they could have gotten Ash to send her on an operation with that goal given that they had shown they could easily get to him. There would have been no need to set Sara up to save Carla, have their machinations revealed, capture Sara, and then orchestrate their escape. It just wasn't practical.

  Sara flicked the safety back on on the pistol and returned it her pocket. "I'm sorry." The words had little effect on Carla. "I suppose that you're right. My whole life is spent lying and being lied to. I'm not used to being around real, honest people. Everyone I come across has some sort of a hidden agenda, so I don't trust easily."

  Now it was Carla's turn to be unsympathetic. "That's an awful way to live, but you signed on for this sort of stuff I didn't. I'm not used to being shot at and imprisoned. I don't live in world of death and lies but I've been dragged into this all the same."

  Sara couldn't think of any reply that would repair the damage she had just done so she said nothing. Instead she got back to the reason for them being there in the first place. She turned back to the touch-screen display and pressed the icon to initiate a link between the computer and communication terminals. The communications unit was activated and Sara went over to have a look in the doctor's inbox. There were no messages so Sara went to have a look through the files he kept saved on his computer terminal.

  ***************

  The call was taken and the silhouetted figure appeared back on the screen. "Yes."

  "We have a possible lead on the location of the two targets. Our data analysis people found records of a search for Karl Grosset's address. Given the connection between Grosset and the two women, Swift in particular, they have assigned a high probability to the scenario that the targets are investigating Grosset's residence."

  "There is nothing more concrete?"

  The speaker shook his head. "No, sir, but the probability index on this was search being made by out targets was quite high. Apparently the time of the search and geographical location of its origin are consistent with it being made by the targets."

  The silhouette nodded. "Very well. Dispatch a retrieval unit to investigate Karl's address, but continue your search via the computers. If this lead doesn't pan out I want us to have another three to replace it."

  ***************

  There was a lot of stuff that was related to the doctor's work, all confusing medical and scientific words and diagrams, Sara didn't have a clue what any of it meant. She looked over at Carla whose blank expression indicated that the data being displayed meant nothing to her either.

  Sara closed the files and waded through some more junk, a first draft of a medical textbook and some miscellaneous jokes and pictures from various sites, before she came to something a little more promising.

  The file was untitled but after reading the first couple of lines it became apparent that it was some sort of a letter of confession by the doctor. It wasn't addressed but by the wording it seemed to be for public reading. Had the doctor planned to send this letter out to the press?

  The doctor started out by declaring how sorry he was and went on to prove it by going on and on about how remorseful he was for the next few paragraphs. He was sorry for ever taking part in it. He had been younger and more naïve when it started, he had thought that the work was important for the future stability of the Confederation, that the end justified the means. But he had become steadily more aware of the true nature of what he was involved with and the motivations of the people behind it. He claimed to have tried to help in a small way several years earlier but now he had to go public despite the risk to himself if he did so. He said that his death would be a small price to pay if it stopped the madness.

  Sara wasn't
interested in finding out how sorry the doctor was. She wanted to know what he was sorry for, what the it was that he referred to and why it was madness. She touched the screen on the right-hand side and dragged her finger down to scroll through onto the next page. It stopped scrolling after only a few more lines, it seemed the doctor hadn't had a chance to finish. Had he been going to after his visit to the statue in memorial park? Sara had to believe that this was why he had died there, that whoever he had been working for or with had killed him before he could go public and expose them.

  "Did Grosset ever tell you anything about his work? You know, what sort of stuff he was doing and who it was for?"

  Carla shook her head. "No. I get the feeling that he was ashamed of it somehow." She became introspective. "We never actually really talked that much. Now I think about it I can't understand why I felt so close to him in so short a space of time."

  "Maybe you just aren't afraid to let your emotions guide you. You see the good qualities in people, their best qualities and you give them your friendship." Her voice went quieter. "Even if they don't deserve it."

  She closed down the untitled file and looked for something else that could give her a clue who Grosset could have been working for and what their interest was in Carla. There were no more files. Sara wasn't going to give up yet. She used the terminal to set up a data transfer between the doctor's terminal and her personal terminal. Then she set it up so her terminal would forward the data to other private sites where she could retrieve the information at a later date. After her terminal forwarded the information it would automatically erase the memory so that the transfers couldn't be traced. She transferred the doctor's half finished confession along with anything medical or scientific that she didn't fully understand, which in reality meant anything that was scientific or medical, in case she got a chance to hand the data over to somebody who could understand it in case it pointed to the area the doctor had been working in.