UNWELCOME PROTECTOR
Alexa Wallace
Copyright 2017 Alexa Wallace
GPO Box 2022, Sydney NSW 2001, Australia
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Background clouds on cover Created by Welcomia
CHAPTER 1
Ada Byron got the text message from Zina at three in the afternoon. At four she was seated in her boss's outer office, dressed in her usual work gear of jeans and white swing top, on time and anxious. The message had simply requested her presence without any references to her original email. She was entitled to feel curious, but why anxious? Past discussions with the company's chief executive had always been friendly and professional. Zina always had answers to her questions. Why should today be any different?
She stood up, fidgeted with a few stray strands of fair hair, checked her phone for messages, and then sat down again. Stop kidding yourself, she thought. She knew the reason. The demands that Zina had been making recently for code alterations to the new Katoomba satellite software were disturbing. Ada had said so in her morning email to Zina. She knew her mathematics. She could read patterns in code like others could follow the plot in a novel. That was why she'd won so many university awards. What she was seeing in the programming specifications from Zina were for more than just security. The code Ada was writing on Zina's instructions was for data access–data theft, in fact–nothing to do with security. That was why she was feeling anxious. What was going on?
'Cheer up, my dear. Put a smile on your face. You always were a gloomy girl.'
Lorenzina Stone, majority shareholder and chief executive officer of Argentum Aerospace, came to a halt in the doorway, her platinum blonde hair swaying lightly about her shoulders. Her navy blue suit was, as usual, immaculate and perfectly form-fitting. Disrespectful employees described her, in whispers, as looking like a middle-aged Barbie Doll. But Ada couldn't recall any Barbie Dolls from her youth who were engineers and financial experts with a genius IQ.
'I have some concerns about my work, Zina,' Ada began uncertainly.
'So you said in your email. I wanted the opportunity to explain my designs to you in person, to reassure you that nothing untoward is intended in what we're creating here.' She gestured politely toward the inner office. 'Come in my dear, and please, please, don't look so serious. We've known each other such a long time. We should always feel comfortable together.'
Ada followed her inside. They seated themselves, Zina behind her uncluttered walnut desk and Ada in a luxurious leather chair designed for important clients. Zina lifted a printed page from the desk, glanced at it for a moment, smiled, and then let it flutter gently downward.
'Your email, my dear. I want you to feel that your worries are as light and insubstantial as this piece of paper.’
'I wish they were,' Ada said. She took a deep breath. 'Your specifications call for back door code, routines that can read and copy data transmitted by a satellite owner's clients. Like a bank's financial transactions, for example. I feel that…'
Zina held up her hand. 'I know what you feel, Ada. You expressed yourself clearly in your email. My only response is that we live in a tough, commercial world where people like us do what our customers ask us to do, or we don't survive. Our customers are governments and corporations. If they buy our technology they help us grow. If they ignore us, we wither and die. Do you really think we have any choice about what we build into our software? We work to their specifications.'
'I'm certain that what we're doing is illegal.'
Zina's smile was politely condescending. 'What might seem illegal in Australia is not necessarily illegal in other countries, my dear. Software design does not consider legality. It simply presents options for the owner to use or not use, according to circumstance.'
'I feel uneasy working like this, knowing that what I'm creating might be used one day by criminals.'
'You're young, Ada. I understand your sensitivities. But we can't concern ourselves with morality. We can't be responsible for the actions of those who buy our technology.'
'We can't just wipe our hands of responsibility.'
'Your grandfather would agree with me,' Zina continued with a tone of polite dismissal. 'That's why he sent you to work for me last year. Despite my disagreements with George, I regard him as a realistic man. He understands the world. He would explain this to you in the way I'm explaining it to you now.'
Ada chose not to reply. She was certain her grandfather would not agree. After university he'd sent her here to work with Zina's husband Jason, not with Zina. But after his friend Jason had died in mysterious circumstances on a lonely mountain trail during the cold Katoomba winter he'd become less enthusiastic about her continuing to work with Zina. He'd never said why. Now Ada was beginning to understand what his concerns might have been. She felt a small surge of tenderness. Had he tried to warn her and she'd missed the signals?
'You're beginning to sound like that journalist,' Zina continued. 'What's his name? Martin? Marshall?'
'Marlowe,' Ada said.
Zina smiled. 'So you've been watching his reports about our suspicious connections with nasty foreign governments?'
'Of course. Everyone here has.'
'I hope you haven't been swayed by his dark good looks and manly physique, Ada.'
'Not at all. I think he has a very high opinion of himself.' She had to admit he was extremely easy to watch on television with his tall, lean body and resonant voice.
'But do you believe what he's been saying?'
'No. I believe in evidence, when I can find it. I've seen no evidence to support his claims. He's very careful not to make any accusations.'
'Of course he is. Typical tabloid TV journalist, full of slimy innuendos and sensation-seeking nonsense. Our lawyers are keeping an eye on him. In fact, we're preparing a lawsuit at the moment.'
But, Ada thought, he was asking intelligent questions, questions she'd begun to ask herself during the last few weeks. Questions that were beginning to bother her now. How could she admit this to Zina?
'Don't concern yourself with Mr Marlowe's ramblings, my dear. And you can ignore staff rumours, and our disappointingly high staff turnover. It's the isolation, I think. Silver Springs is a research facility with live-in accommodation, not a holiday camp, and we do make certain demands for the high salaries we pay. Unfortunately, some employees, especially the young ones, are used to working in the bright lights of Sydney. They find life up here in the Blue Mountains too boring after a few months, despite the weekends off and the free transport. Boredom breeds discontent. As long as they've signed the non-disclosure clause in their contracts, I don't mind them leaving. Unhappy employees do sloppy work, don't you agree? I'd be disappointed, Ada, if you've become unhappy. Have you?'
'Not unhappy, just puzzled about some things.'
'Such as?'
'Why is security so overbearing, both inside and outside?'
'Surely you understand the need for high security in a place like this. Our clients deman
d it and our contracts specify it.' Zina smiled apologetically. 'Some of our younger guards might become over zealous on occasions when dealing with staff, but our security head Mr Twist keeps them in check. And as for the outside, the mountainous terrain around here makes security difficult so we rely on vehicle patrols and our little airborne friends. It means we don't need to build fences and gates.'
'Staff find the drones creepy. They feel like they're being spied on.'
Zina sighed. 'What can I say? Would our employees prefer electrified fences? I think not.'
'They find Mr Twist creepy, too.'
'Poor Striver,' Zina said, chuckling. 'He means well. But certain work requires a certain personality type and Striver Twist matches the security requirements exactly. Do let me know if he bothers you too much, or any of the other staff. I promise I'll speak sternly to him. I hope my answers have satisfied you, Ada.'
'Who is the blond man with the red rimmed glasses who comes and goes occasionally? He never introduces himself, just asks questions.'
'Like you, my dear. You're full of questions yourself this afternoon, aren't you? The blond gentleman is Mr Tursunov, a Russian. He represents our interests in Central Europe. Nikolay unfortunately cares little for social etiquette. I've tried to educate him but without much success, I'm afraid. Just answer his questions and then ignore him. I assure you he's completely harmless.'
Ada wasn't so certain. If the journalist Marlowe was correct in what he implied in some of his reports, Zina's European connections were more than just associates. They had a stake in the company and a reputation for shady international dealings. She didn't know what to think. Zina's reassurances hadn't made her feel any better. She knew that the code she was writing was illegal in Australia, and wasn't that all that mattered? If their clients wanted to hack the security software after they'd taken delivery of a satellite, then they could do it themselves. She refused to do it for them. But could she tell Zina that to her face?
'I'm still uneasy about doing what you want,' she said. 'I don't want to put myself outside the law.'
Zina's attitude changed quickly from friendly and reassuring to decidedly cool.
'I've explained the reality of our situation and my requirements, Ada. As your employer I expect you to comply.' The coolness subsided a little and she smiled, though the smile was strained. 'My dear, I don't want to speak to you like this. The need to do so is greatly disappointing to me. You know that I have your best interests at heart. That's always been the case since that terrible time so long ago when you lost your parents. For a short while I treated you as my daughter, until your grandfather finally consented to do his duty. I can see you even now, a three-year-child crying in the night. That is still how I think of you. As a daughter. I want you to believe that.'
'And I've always been grateful to you Zina, you know that. But...'
'Enough!' Zina held up a carefully manicured hand in warning. 'I must bring this discussion to an end. I ask you to think about what I've said and consider it carefully, for the sake of our family connection. In time I know you will come around to my way of thinking. If you should decide to follow another path, Ada, to leave me at this crucial time, I can't imagine how that would make me feel. It would break my heart.' She leaned forward on the desk, the charming smile now long gone. 'I'm not alone in the ownership of this company. My associates have great influence over our affairs. They may well regard a lack of cooperation on your part as highly undesirable, and I cannot be responsible for their actions. However, I believe it will not come to that.' She straightened in her chair. 'Now I have work to do, Ada. Please forgive me.'
Ada felt numb. She had to get away, anywhere, somewhere quiet where she could make sense of what Zina had said, at the threat behind her words. Had she heard correctly? Had Zina threatened violence, or was that just her imagination? How could the woman she'd known all her life make such dark implications. It was as if Zina has suddenly become another woman, a woman she'd never known before. Her head was spinning. She got up slowly and left the room.
She found her way outside and followed the verandah down to the water garden where staff often took their lunches. Young oaks and gums with native shrubs and colourful waratahs surrounded a central pond. She sat down in the afternoon summer sun near the pond to think. But she didn't really need to think, did she? She'd made a decision almost immediately after escaping from Zina's office. She had to get away. Tonight. Somehow. Anyhow.
Something was not quite right with Zina. Something was broken, and Ada had no desire to stay around and think it through in the normal, logical way she resolved problems. She was following instinct only. Was she in danger? What kind of danger? She didn't know. She wouldn't wait to find out. Tonight she would leave. She would explain to Zina from Sydney why she'd left, and plead that her conscience wouldn't allow her to do what Zina wanted. That would be the end of it.
She heard footsteps on the gravel behind her.
'The perfect place for a little quiet contemplation, I've always thought,' said Striver Twist, head of security. 'Don't you agree, Miss Byron?'
Ada tried hard to suppress a shiver of revulsion, a feeling she commonly had in his presence. His thin face and dark, slicked down hair gave him the appearance of a vampire she'd seen somewhere in an old black and white movie. His smile was no more than a polite sneer that implied he knew her secret thoughts. That was impossible, but it was unnerving nevertheless. She would be glad to see the last of him.
'Contemplation requires solitude, Mr Twist. How can I help you?'
'Apologies for the intrusion, but Mrs Stone asked that I have a quiet word with you. I understand you have some concerns about our security here.'
'Zina has answered all my questions,' Ada said coolly. 'Thank you for your interest.'
She turned away politely but Twist ignored the dismissal.
'Staff here sometimes don't appreciate the sensitive nature of our work and the need for vigilance.'
'No need to explain, Mr Twist,' she said over her shoulder. 'I'm fully aware of your vigilance.'
'I'm so glad you understand. I should like you to know that I intend to make a special effort in your case to watch over you. I know that you are an important part of our research efforts here. You warrant the highest level of security protection. I shall be glad to provide it. Your grandfather need have no fears about your welfare.'
'Thank you, Mr Twist. I'm grateful to you. Goodbye.'
She couldn't bear to turn and face that oily smile and the icy threats behind it. She was unable to release the tension from her body until she heard the sound of his footsteps recede into the distance.
She had been warned. She was to be watched. And why did he feel the need to mention her grandfather? Was this final slap in the face Zina's doing? She couldn't believe it. Twist had taken it upon himself to deliver the message, she was sure. Or had he? If she'd had any doubts about leaving this place they were now fully dispelled. She had to go tonight and she had to start planning. Now.
Back in her office she took the first and most crucial step. She copied Zina's design instructions and the security-breaching code she'd been writing onto two flash drive memory sticks. The second stick was a novelty design that could be inserted into a blue triangular pendant. She needed these copies as evidence if she ever had to prove her claims to authorities. She hoped the need would never arise but the events of the past few hours made it clear that she should expect anything after she made her exit from Silver Springs.
Would Zina come after her? She had no way of knowing. Would Striver Twist take it upon himself to do so? Did Zina have full control over him or did he take his orders from the Russian, Tursunov? It was all a jumble in her mind. She needed peace and quiet well away from here to figure it all out. But whatever happened, the copies of the code would protect her.
She looked up at the security camera in the corner of the room. The footage would show her copying data, but that was something she did all the time to transfer small
pieces of work code to the laptop she used in her private room. And besides, she was past caring. She was almost on the point of recklessness. That was dangerous. She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked around the office. This was the last time she would see it. She would take nothing else with her.
In her room she lay on her bed and took some time to review the situation. The first memory stick she would bury in the small powder container in her make-up kit. The pendant carrying the second stick she would wear around her neck, following the theory that the best way to hide something was to disguise it as something else in plain view. She would remain in her jeans and top, but wear her blue jacket and change to a pair of mid-heel sandals.
The overnight bag should carry the bare minimum: underwear, two pairs of shorts and T-shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of short pyjamas, her make-up kit and toiletries. She would probably need none of it if the exit went as planned. She had all she needed at her grandfather's apartment in Paddington, their shared home. She would ring him around eight as she did most nights, but she would not mention what she was about to do. She wanted to give him no cause for worry. Tomorrow they would discuss her decision together over breakfast. She was certain he would agree with what she'd done.
Transport. It was too risky to request a security vehicle to Katoomba. Striver Twist would be notified and he would want to know her reasons for travelling. She could argue and protest but Zina would intervene and there was no knowing how it would all end. Her overnight bag would be searched and they might find the memory stick in her make-up kit. No one could be allowed to know what she was doing.
Her only real chance was to act without warning. The best time to leave would be around 1:00 a.m., when the guards were likely to be at their least alert. It was twenty kilometres to Katoomba, including the three kilometres of private mountain road to the public highway. She needed speed. If she went on foot, the drones would register her movement before she reached floodlight perimeters.
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