by Liz Wolfe
Shelby pulled the InfoTech Professionals van into the InfoTech parking lot and lumbered inside. The day had heated up, and Dan’s office was refreshingly cool. She dropped her tech case on a chair, grabbed her backpack, and ducked into the restroom to change. Dan and Josh were waiting for her when she finished.
“How’d it go?” Josh asked.
“Not bad. I installed the FTP program on all the servers and individual computers except the ones in the lab area. Carlson said they weren’t on the network and didn’t need to be cleaned.”
“So, by tomorrow morning, we should have most of their files uploaded.” Josh grinned at her. “Have any problems?”
“Dr. McRae caught me looking at a file in his desk.”
“Damn. How’d you get out of it?”
“I lied.”
“Remind me never to date you or any other woman who lies for a living.”
“I’m going back tomorrow. Told Carlson I had to check that the program cleaned the virus from all the files. That will give me a chance to look around the place a little more.”
“Whatever you can get away with.”
“Thanks for coming down, Josh. Sorry I didn’t need you.”
“Maybe next time.” Josh shrugged.
Shelby smiled at him. Maybe, but unlikely.
“Jackson,” Chris said as she punched the speaker button on her phone and continued reading the report.
“Chris, Mac here.” Chris looked up from the report at the sound of his soft, Australian accent. “One minute.” She quickly scanned the rest of the report, scrawled her initials at the bottom, and added it to the growing stack in her outbox.
“What’s up, Mac?” Chris picked up the handset and leaned back in her chair.
“There’s been an interesting development.
” Chris straightened in her chair. “What?”
“A woman by the name of Cathy Silvers dropped by on Monday. Presumably, she’s a friend of the computer tech who was killed over the weekend.”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Carlson asked me to test and interview her under the guise of possible future employment.”
“I remember. Your report said she appeared to be lying about something?”
“Exactly. She showed up again today, ostensibly working for a firm called InfoTech Professionals. Dr. Carlson hired them to eradicate a virus in our system.”
“So, she ended up getting some contract work and went back to The Center. Could be a coincidence.”
“I caught her going through my desk.”
“Really? How’d she explain that?”
“Said it was an accident. The drawer slid open when she bumped into the desk.”
“I’ll have someone check it out and get back to you.” Chris fiddled with a pencil, twirling it through her fingers. “Have you found anything since your last report?”
“Not really. They keep all the data locked up pretty tight here. I’ve had two counseling sessions with Sam, but they’re taped, so I haven’t had an opportunity to ask him anything.”
“Can you get him away from the cameras?”
“I’m trying. I have another session scheduled soon.”
“Keep up the good work, Mac, but listen, don’t take any chances. You’re only there to gather information. Don’t try to be Super Spy.”
“No worries.” Mac sighed. “It’s just frustrating.”
“I understand. This kind of assignment usually is. If you even suspect they’ve made you, we’re pulling you out.”
“There’s been no indication of that. I think they bought the cover background and think I’m a real sleazeball.”
“Keep me posted.” Chris replaced the handset, rose from her chair, and moved to close the door to her office. She poured a glass of water from the carafe on the credenza and lifted it to her lips with a shaking hand.
Mac wasn’t going to find any information at The Center, because she’d alerted Jonah Thomas the minute Mac had been assigned to the case. She’d been surprised that they were letting Mac have sessions with Sam, but then what could the boy tell Mac? All he knew was that his mother was dead, and he was living with foster parents.
She still didn’t know exactly what they were doing at The Center. All she knew was that they were investigating the disappearance of Shannon and Sam Masterson. And as long as Sam appeared to be in no danger, they weren’t going to extract him until they found out if Shannon was still alive.
But this Cathy Silvers could be a problem. Chris turned to her computer and did a search on InfoTech Professionals. She opened up the company’s web site, scanned the information, and then punched the number into her phone.
“Dan Knowles, please. This is Chris Jackson, Special Agent in Charge with the FBI.”
“Dan Knowles here.”
Chris introduced herself and explained that her office was investigating The Center, and then asked about Cathy Silvers.
“Oh, you mean Shelby Parker.”
“Shelby Parker?”
“With the FSA.” Dan paused. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“No, that’s okay. We’re working this case parallel to the FSA.” Chris forced herself to chuckle. “You know how it is with government bureaucracy. I think I’m missing a couple of reports from them. I just wasn’t aware they were sending someone in.”
“Oh, I see. What do you need to know?” Dan sounded hesitant, and Chris didn’t want him dwelling on this.
“Nothing, really. I was just investigating the appearance of an unknown person at The Center.” Chris used her most professional voice. “We really appreciate your help in this matter. I’m sure Ms. Parker emphasized the necessity for discretion.
“Of course.”
“The information you gave me isn’t a problem, but you might want to watch how much you say to anyone. I really could have been anyone.”
“Of course. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Good. Again, we appreciate your help.” Chris figured she ’d intimidated him enough that he wasn’t likely to give out any information over the phone to anyone. At least that was in her favor. Getting more intel on Parker and what the hell she was doing there would be easy.
But first, she had to take care of another problem. The thief she’d hired to retrieve the photos and negatives hadn’t been in touch. Chris had expected to hear from her by now. Although Zoe had told her that she didn’t know how long it would take, it’d already been several days.
And Jim Bottoms hadn’t heard from her either. What the hell was taking her so long?
Saturday morning Shelby was back at The Center shortly before nine. Dr. Carlson arrived a few minutes later and let her into the building. The Center wasn’t open for regular business on Saturday, so there were very few people around. Shelby saw only two guards on duty. One sat at the receptionist’s desk watching the front door; the other walked the halls.
“Morning, Dr. Carlson.” The guard actually stood up when she walked in. He could’ve just been a gentleman, but Shelby’s first thought was that it was part of his job description.
“Earl.” Dr. Carlson nodded to him and continued on to the door that led to the rear area of The Center.
“Uh, Dr. Carlson.”
“Yes, Earl?” She paused with her hand on the doorknob.
“Just wanted to let you know that they’re changing out the security cameras today. They took the old ones, but they had to go back to get some missing piece in order to install the new ones.”
“So, we’re without the security cameras for a while?”
“Correct. Until about five. They promised they’d have them working today.”
Dr. Carlson sighed. “Very well. I doubt it’s a problem.”
Earl nodded, and for a moment Shelby thought he was going to salute or something.
Dr. Carlson let Shelby into the computer room and told her to call when she was finished. She then disappeared. Shelby logged on using the administrative password she’
d gotten yesterday and opened the FTP program.
Shelby squinted at the short list of files. Only a few files had been copied, and the program had stopped.
What the hell? It looked like the program had been disabled. There was no record of files being copied after six last night. Which meant the program had only copied and transferred files for about two hours. Not nearly long enough to be complete. She dinked around in the files trying to figure out what had happened until her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.
Shelby looked at the number on the display screen. Ethan. Well, this couldn’t be good.
“What?”
“Shelby, can you talk?”
“I guess so. I’m in the computer room, and it seems that I’m alone. So, unless they have the place bugged …”
“Josh is here in my office. He says that the FTP program stopped uploading files at six last night.”
“That’s what it looks like from here too.”
“Damn.”
“Took the word right out of my mouth. What does Josh think the problem is?” She heard Ethan talking to Josh and Josh’s muffled response.
“He doesn’t know. Possibly, they have some kind of detection program running that shut it down.”
“Hold on a sec.” She clamped the phone between her ear and shoulder and typed in commands. A bright red window popped up with a big exclamation mark in the center. “He’s right.” Shelby felt like throwing her phone through the monitor. A mature, controlled response to being thwarted.
On the other hand, it was a piece of luck that the warning seemed to be limited to the administrative ID. Unless Carlson or Thomas had received the same message and were stomping their way down the hall this very minute.
“Ethan, it looks like there’s a detection program that found the FTP program and disabled it. Right now, I need to find out if anyone else has seen the message. Have Josh talk to Ted and see if he knows anything about it.” She turned the cell phone off and slipped it into her pocket.
If that bright red message had appeared on anyone else’s computer, they were tipped off to what she had done, and that meant that she was up to her neck in hot water. Unfortunately, the only way to find out was to check Dr. Carlson’s and Dr. Thomas’ computers. Unless there was some other computer offsite that might get the message.
Cold sweat trickled down her neck. She turned back to the computer and searched the network architecture. If they had an offsite computer linked to the network, it was well hidden. Ted hadn’t had any knowledge of it, and she had to believe that he would have known. Now, to find out if the doctors’ computers were being alerted.
First, she needed the perfect prop. Failing that, she needed anything that would do. Ah, ha! A dirty glass was perched on a high shelf. A further search turned up some duct tape. Shelby grabbed both and headed to the ladies’ room.
God only knew what had been in the glass earlier. A strange orange, slightly crystalline substance was caked in the bottom. A lot of hot water and several paper towels later, she had a perfectly clean glass and an instrument for getting thumbprints. Shelby reached inside her padded clothing and pulled out a small aerosol can of spray fixative. Holding the glass carefully, she sprayed the outside, gave it a few moments to set, and then filled the glass with water. She washed her hands using the abrasive soap in the dispenser and dried them thoroughly, first with paper towels and then with the hot air dryer.
Crap. This was going to hurt, and she chastised herself for not having thought about it earlier. She could have taken care of the problem with a razor at home. Oh, well. She tore off strips of the duct tape and pressed one firmly to the back of her hand. Clenching her teeth, she ripped the tape off, taking all the tiny hairs with it. She repeated the process twice again, just to make sure. Then, more washing with the abrasive soap. Finally, she sprayed a coating of the fixative on the back of her hand, let it dry and repeated it several times.
Now, she needed the doctors and a little serendipity. Shelby knew where the doctors were, and she’d probably have to supply the serendipity herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zoe fought her way through a thick grogginess to semi-consciousness. Her eyelids were heavy and opening them proved to be too much, so she stopped trying. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she had a flash of memory. She’d had this sick feeling a few times in the past few days. Days? Her thoughts drifted in and out. As soon as she tried to grasp one, it would drift away. She gritted her teeth against the nausea and forced her eyelids open. She was lying in a hospital bed. What the hell was she doing in a hospital bed? The room was small and sterile. Light poured in through a window with bars on the outside. She blinked against the bright light. Her vision blurred and then came into focus again.
Zoe swallowed, wishing she could reach the water glass on the table next to her bed. Memories drifted in and out. Someone holding her up in bed, placing a straw into her mouth. The sting of a needle in the back of her hand. More injections in her upper arm. She raised her left hand as far as the restraints would allow and saw an IV taped to the back of her hand.
Then she remembered the man. The one she had been stealing from. What had she been stealing? She closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering. Photographs and negatives. It was all coming back, but none of it explained where she was or what was happening. She drifted to sleep again, only to be awakened by the door to her room opening.
“And how is our patient today?”
Zoe opened her mouth, but her throat was too dry to speak. Just as well, since her first inclination was to swear at the man. He cranked the bed up and held a glass of water so she could drink from the straw. The movement made her dizzy and her stomach lurched, but she sucked down as much water as she could before he took the glass away.
“It’s good to see you awake. I think we can take the restraints off now.” He snapped open the leather that encircled her wrists, and Zoe flexed her fingers. “What do you remember?”
Zoe shook her head. “The last thing I remember was riding my bike. Did I have an accident?” She wasn’t about to admit that she’d been stealing from this man.
“Exactly.” Jonah Thomas nodded. “I’m afraid you had some serious internal injuries, and you’ll need to stay quiet for some time.”
“How long have I been here? What day is it?”
“We brought you here early Wednesday morning after your accident. It’s Saturday now.” He smiled at her in a way that made her want to hit him. “You’ll probably have a little nausea from the nasty bump on your head. But that will clear up soon. Just rest and get better.”
Zoe lay back against the pillows and let her eyes close. The sooner he left, the sooner she could check out her surroundings. At least he seemed to buy her story of not remembering what had happened. Not that he’d probably tell her if he didn’t.
She forced herself to wait a few minutes after she heard him leave, and then sat up carefully, waiting until the dizziness passed. When her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled and she had to hold onto the side of the bed for support. Damn, she was as weak as a kitten. After a few minutes, she felt stronger and shuffled over to the door, pulling the IV stand with her. She couldn’t see much from the small window. Just an empty hallway with a rolling file cart full of what looked to be colored folders. She turned the doorknob, not surprised to find the door locked.
Tears of frustration stung her eyes. She’d always thought the worst that could happen on a job was that she ’d be caught and arrested. She’d been wrong.
Dr. Carlson had been headed down the hall that led to the lab after she left the computer room, so Shelby headed there as well. The double doors to the lab and clinic area had large windows, and she could see several people walking around. They all wore scrubs or lab coats. The lab and clinic area were larger than she’d originally thought and looked like they took up most of the building. The doors were locked and had a security keypad and a doorbell to one side. Shelby pressed the doorbell and waited. A
few minutes later Dr. Carlson appeared and opened the door. Shelby thought she might try to squeeze in, but Dr. Carlson was firmly planted between her and the interior of the lab.
“What is it, Cathy?”
“I have a problem. The program that I installed to fix all the files infected by the virus isn’t working the way it should. It seems to be stalled somewhere.”
“Dear God. Has it destroyed more files?”
“No. Not yet. The thing is, I need to go through the files individually to clean them, and I can do that—no problem. But I really need to be able to isolate those files so there’s no danger of further infestation.” Shelby nodded at the doctor expectantly.
“Then do it.” Dr. Carlson turned away, but Shelby pushed the door open behind her.
“Oh, I will. It’s just that I wanted to let you know that I have to leave for a while, but that I’ll be back.” She pulled a floppy diskette from her pocket. “I thought I had everything I needed here on this floppy. But it’s just the file that actually cleans the virus.” Shelby jostled her right arm, letting some of the water spill onto the floppy.
“Oh, my God!” Shelby shoved the glass of water into Carlson’s hand and wiped the droplets off the floppy. “Can’t let this get damaged. Then I wouldn’t be able to clean up the virus.” Dr. Carlson looked agitated. But she was holding the glass, and that’s all Shelby was concerned about.
“Is there a problem, Ruth?” A tall, slender man walked around the corner. This had to be Dr. Jonah Thomas. She had really hit pay dirt. Before Dr. Carlson could reply, Shelby lurched forward holding out her right hand.
“You must be Dr. Thomas. Nice to meet you.” Shelby shoved her hand toward his and, as she expected, he automatically grasped her hand and shook it. He had a wimpy handshake and that was exactly what she’d been hoping for. Shelby turned her hand just a little so it was almost lying in his palm. He unknowingly cooperated by gripping her hand, allowing a perfect thumbprint to imbed itself in the fixative on the back of her hand.