by E Y Mak
Benita nodded.
He continued, “Fact of the matter, it’s not always practical in the field, and sometimes we have to play it fast and loose. Sometimes we turn a blind eye to the Creed to keep our clients happy. We’re supposed to get disciplined but the organization usually just makes us feel like more we are disappointing John Phineas, the head of Phineas.”
Their chat was briefly interrupted by the server setting down two cold beverages and the hot thick-sliced bread, a dollop of condensed milk sloppily spread on top. Both Russell and Bonita thanked the server, who again grunted before limping to the next table. As Russell ate his toast, a breaking news report flashed onto the television above their table. Russell repositioned himself in the chair to look up at the China Central Television news broadcast. A twentyish-year-old Chinese woman speaking English with a British accent narrated.
“At three this afternoon, several China’s government websites, including CNTV, were compromised. Chinese netizens received error messages when trying to access government online services before being redirected to websites with Russian IP addresses. The government websites were down for approximately four hours before access was restored. The culprit is yet to be identified.”
Benita commented on the broadcast. “Before you came here, the United States Department of Defence was hacked. Do you think this might be related?”
“Possible, but not the same MO,” Russell said, still looking at the television. “Different motivation and different digital signature. I had read about this a bit earlier today. The US DOD attack was targeted and insidious. The information was highly confidential, possibly top secret, and the attack was surgical. The information obtained could be sold for huge sums on the black market. It was both profit and politically motivated.”
Russell took another bite of toast and a sip of his tea before continuing.
“This China hack, on the other hand, is widespread, disjointed—and a bit pointless. It almost feels like just some kid in his parent’s basement trying to brag that he was able to get past some cybersecurity locks. It’s anarchy. I’m more interested in the örugg heist.”
“The örugg heist?“
“The örugg is a company that provided secure storage of cryptocurrency for its clients. Well, technically, it stored the private keys for its clients. With the private key, one could decrypt the public key or crypto address paired with it, and thus control the contents and value of that address. Now, if someone else, such as a hacker, got access to the private key, they would also be able to access the crypto, and siphon it into their own wallet.”
Russell paused to make sure Benita was following on. She was. He continued.
“So to protect these private keys from being accessed by hackers, örugg held them offline in what the industry calls ‘cold storage.’ That’s not that unusual – many crypto investors will do that, holding their private keys on purpose-built USB devices. But örugg went the extra mile,” he said, with a smile. “Like a great movie villain, they built a vault in a decommissioned military bunker hidden in a mountain somewhere in Iceland. So on top of the vault being offline, it’s location was unknown and it had abundant physical security defenses. Still got hacked,” he said.
“How come I haven’t heard about this?” asked Benita with a puzzled look on her face. “Yin-Lok would normally know something like this.”
“They aren‘t quite ready to let this news go public yet. We‘re talking about hundreds of millions of dollars in crypto that their clients don‘t even know are missing. Phineas wasn‘t retained for the investigation, but the rumor mill in New York is going wild right now on what really happened.“
Benita and Russell continued watching the news for a bit. He didn’t really want to think too much at the moment and was searching for lighter conversation. The evening had been tense, and neither Russell nor Benita desired to continue the shoptalk. But Russell didn’t want his evening with Benita to end just yet. Benita must have felt the same way, as she broke the awkward stillness.
“So, look at you, in Hong Kong again. What’s this—three times in the five years since I’ve known you. How come we never met up before this?” Benita asked as she stared at him with her bright brown eyes.
Damn, those eyes. Russell rubbed the stubble around his mouth as he collected his thoughts on his last three visits.
“Well, the first time I was on retrieval detail—what we call bounty hunting inside Phineas. Just bringing the perpetrator back to the US—in and out in two days. The second time, it was VIP protection, so I and three other Phineas guys were glued to our veep twenty-four seven. The third time, I was just too busy. On top of the file I was working on, I had some family stuff to take care of.”
“Well, time we finally got to meet,” she said. “You were fun to talk to. I felt like we were partners growing up in the ranks together.” She had her elbows on the table, cupping her chin with both palms.
“I know, I feel that way too,” Russell said. “You have a very calming voice. Did you know that?”
Why would you say something like that, Russell? He was self-conscious. He didn’t remember being this lame to anyone before.
“Like a grandma?” She sounded a little bit offended, but over the years he knew she liked pretending to be insulted to garner sympathy compliments. If he wasn’t so into her, he would have found that attribute annoying.
“No,” Russell said in his most deadpan voice, shaking his head. “Just someone that I felt very comfortable with. Like a phone-sex operator.”
Swing and a miss.
Benita groaned a little at the joke before chuckling. “Funny.” She seemed to get his dry sense of humor. “So how are things in New York? Seeing anyone over there?”
“Nah. You know how our lifestyle is,” he said with an upturned mouth. “Sure, the money’s good, but after a while, the late nights get old to the significant other.” He started thinking about his last long-term relationship almost three years ago. “To be honest, since the day we started working on the Cruz investigation together, I’ve chatted with you more than most people. It’s funny to think that we just met today in person.”
“Yeah, I know,” sighed Benita. “Story of my life too.”
“If it’s okay that I ask—why’d it not work out with Robert?” Russell said. He recalled a particular conversation they’d had earlier in the year, during a lull in a late-night investigation. She had just met the assistant chief of staff for the Chief Executive of Hong Kong. They had met at a political fundraiser and hit it off right away. Russell remembered that she had called Robert one of the last remaining gentlemen in Hong Kong. Sure, he had taken her out for expensive dinners and shows. But she was more impressed with the little details of his caring personality, like the simple origami rose he had left for her on the nightstand. How, despite his busy schedule, he would try to pick her up after work whenever possible. It was the effort that impressed her. Hong Kong was a city of beauty, lights, and temptations of all varieties. Anything could be bought in this city. To have someone to stop and smell the metaphorical roses—that was something Benita said she just didn’t find anymore.
She looked down as she answered, stirring the ice cubes in her already-finished drink with a long skinny spoon. “He couldn’t keep up with our lifestyle. And he had a diplomat’s schedule. How crazy is that?”
Russell nodded. He’d had his fair share of heartbreak. Being regularly called out at odd hours at night. Working through weekends. It was only so much a spouse or partner could take. He had once done a lap around his floor at Phineas Tower. Of the forty-six married professionals, fifteen had divorced and half of them were having affairs.
He responded solemnly. “It’s a lonely life. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“I’ll be in my midthirties by then. Honestly? I don’t know if I still want to be doing this. It’s a great job—it’s exciting to put away bad guys, and get paid well. The adrenaline rush is still there.” She paused.
/> “But?”
“But I’d like to start just leading files. It’s a bit tough for a girl like me in Hong Kong, but Lead Investigator would definitely look nice next to my name.”
“I could see that,” said Russell. Benita flashed a smile that made Russell’s heart skip a beat.
“At the end of the day though, I’m from a small town in Spain. I hate to admit it, but I’d like to settle down too. Start a family. You know? Can I have both?”
Russell nodded in agreement. “Professionally, I’d like to be more involved in the client development side of things. Kind of full circle for me. Starting out pushing paper at a Wall Street law firm, then Phineas chasing bad guys, then Phineas again pushing paper. Maybe when I’m sixty I’ll be chasing the bad guys again.” They both chuckled as Russell said, “But, yeah, the same. I’d like to do the family thing one day too.”
”You were in Afghanistan, right?” she asked, unintentionally striking a nerve with Russell.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“You don’t seem like the military type.”
“I’m not the traditional military type, no.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know. Rebellion. I grew up in a strict first-generation Chinese-Canadian household. It was expected that I’d become a doctor. Or a lawyer. Or an accountant. I figured joining the military was something that would piss everyone off. See the world.”
“Did you like it?”
“I learned respect. The big picture. I was humbled.” Russell didn’t really want to share much more about this part of his life. “Memories from my time in Afghanistan made me stop working on Wall Street a couple of years in. The stuff I had seen. In both places.”
“You’d be a partner now clearing a million bucks a year making rich people richer on Wall Street,” she said.
“The smart thing to do was to keep developing the practice. Good pay, safe environment. My heart told me something else. If I’m going to be spending twelve to fifteen hours a day doing something, I might as well be doing something interesting. That wasn’t it,” he said.
They continued chatting, neither really wanting to end the conversation. The recent pall of Butler’s suicide that had hung over Russell’s head had dissipated slightly, the memory of hunting the Phantom subsiding behind the banter between two good friends. But eventually, it was time to leave.
There was work to be done the next day, and Russell needed to be sharp.
Chapter Thirty
Russell woke up the next morning, the sun pouring in through the bedroom window. He savored the moment briefly before bounding off the couch and peeking at his watch. 7:50.
He took a peek at the bed and saw Benita draped in the covers. After they had left the café, Benita had realized there had been no point driving to Kowloon and back again in such a short timeframe. Similar to Russell, she always had a bag packed in her car for long stakeouts. She had ended up crashing in the Mandarin Oriental suite, which was plenty big enough for her to have her own sleeping space. He regretted nothing more had happened.
He sat down at the hotel-room desk, powered up the laptop, and logged into PhineasNet to check his email.
372 emails.
I don’t have time for this. He sorted the unread emails quickly to see if there were any from Daniel, Candice, or anyone else on the Butler file. There was none. Wasn’t Candice supposed to call me? Russell decided it was time to see if Mauritius had let anything slip just yet. He located and initialized the PhineasNet recorder application.
The status of his eavesdropping device was the first thing he noticed upon entering the application. The quarter he had left with Mauritius was still recording with about forty percent battery left. As long as the battery held out, the always-on cellular connection continuously transmitted information to PhineasNet. The program allowed Russell to scan the recording, and PhineasNet artificial intelligence presorted conversations for him. In addition, the software’s voice recognition focused on the keywords Russell had preprogrammed, including any instance of “Phineas,” “Tim Butler,” “Ndian,” “Cameroon,” and “Russell.” It also listed both the audio file and a transcript of the hits.
Russell put on his headphones and began working through all of the points in time that the software had identified.
Elva: “I have the updated report on the girl with the dress from the banquet yesterday. Benita Sato—she works at Yin-Lok Investigations. Five years on the job.”
Mauritius: “Was there anyone else from Yin-Lok at the conference?”
Elva: “No.”
Mauritius: “Okay, so there was CIA, MI6, MSS, Phineas, and now Yin-Lok.”
MSS? Chinese State Security was at the banquet? Why?
The recording stopped abruptly. He scanned forward to the next hit.
Mauritius: “What do we have on Russell?”
Elva: “Nothing that we can use yet. He’s had a spotless record so far. At Phineas for seven years. Involved in the Mark Lawrence courtroom shooting, but the news sources don’t pin it on him as the screw-up.”
Mauritius: “Anything from his personal life in the repository?”
Elva: “He stayed off our grid. A couple email addresses that he used for personal purposes. We don’t have access to them. But it looks like anything he used before Phineas was secured.”
Mauritius: “Okay. Let’s keep him on a string a bit longer.”
Elva: “What are you going to give him access to tomorrow?”
Mauritius: “Just give him the peripheral stuff for now. With his background, he’s probably going to be able to see through any fabricated agreements that we can put together anyway, so let’s just limit the number of details he gets.”
Russell scanned through the rest of the conversations. There was nothing more particularly interesting or relevant.
He now needed to prepare for his meeting at Fuengirola. He dug around in his business precedents folder and found the lengthiest generic investment banking engagement letter he could find. He figured he could use its minutiae to distract Elva. He found one that he liked and revised the parties to be Hocking and Fuengirola. After printing off a copy on the hotel printer, he placed it in his briefcase. He was about to walk into the bathroom for a shower when he heard a soft voice behind him.
“Russell? What time is it?”
He turned around. Benita was still lying in bed, wrapped in the blanket like a burrito.
“Eight fifty-five a.m.,” he said.
“Thanks for waking a girl up,” Benita said sarcastically. He smiled as he watched her rise from the bed and hurry into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Russell knew from experience that he wasn’t going to get to use the bathroom now anytime soon.
Alright, I might as well get ready out here.
But first, he made himself a fresh cup of coffee.
Chapter Thirty-One
Russell walked under the oddly shaped white-steel structure in front of Two Isle Tower in the Quarry Bay district of Hong Kong. The crisscrossing of the metal rods gave the art piece the appearance of a rib cage picked clean by vultures. It was fitting, he supposed. His gut told him he was walking into a lion’s den.
As he walked into the building, he began surveying the room. The colossal lobby consisted of two floors connected by three swirling staircases and four escalators. On the far end, opposite the main entrance, were twelve elevators. Hundreds of people populated this level, talking, sitting at the various restaurants and cafés, rushing to the elevators. It felt more like a mall than the main floor of an office building.
Russell entered one of the men’s washrooms and closed himself in the first stall. He removed his electronically locked pistol from the holster dug deep into the small of his back. He lifted the tank of the toilet and set the Glock on the balanced end of the toilet trip lever. After covering up his work, he exited the washroom and made his way to the elevator. Once inside, he pushed the button for floor eighty-three.
Three min
utes later, the elevator door opened directly into the main lobby of Fuengirola. The walls of the reception area were tasteful mahogany accentuated with dark oak trim and white marble flooring. An open hallway led directly into a view of the South China Sea.
Pretty extravagant for a holding company.
A youngish Chinese woman sitting at the reception desk smiled at him as he approached. Her desk was clear of all items except for a wireless keyboard and an Apple desktop computer. Behind her office chair was a side table where her purse and security card rested. Beyond that was a frosted window opening up into the next room. Fuengirola was emblazoned in a trendy digital font on the window.
“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” the receptionist asked cheerily in Cantonese.
Russell responded in English. “I’m here to see Mr. Delgado.”
She immediately answered in perfect English. “Of course, Mr. Woo. Mr. Delgado is waiting for you.” She stood up and gestured behind her. “Please follow me to the waiting area.”
Russell followed the receptionist down a hallway, passing a series of meeting rooms and a door secured by a keycard lock. They stopped at the last door, which opened up into a large corner waiting room surrounded on two sides with floor-to-ceiling windows and filled with ultramodern leather sofas that, to Russell, looked ultra-uncomfortable. He confirmed it by sitting down on the sofa.
“Mr. Delgado is just finishing a meeting and will come out as soon as possible. Can I get you an espresso?”
Russell shook his head and smiled. “I’m fine,” he said. She returned the smile and walked off. Russell walked over to the window and looked out, soaking in the beautiful view of Kowloon Bay. Within a minute, Mauritius came out, dressed in a casual button-down white dress shirt French-tucked into his jeans. “Hi, Russell. Good to see you again. Sleep well last night?” he asked as he extended his right hand.