Palm Sunday

by William R. Vitanyi Jr.

  “There’s a pair of flies in the ointment,” said Norbert.

  “Am I supposed to guess what that means?”

  Norbert sensed that Mason was in a bad mood, and came straight to the point. “Remember how Slocum was using his palmtop to access the stream?” Mason nodded. “Well, I saw an indication that he was at it again.”

  “Not him. He’s here.”

  This surprised Norbert. He hadn’t been told. “Then someone he works with. Maybe. But they didn’t do a very good job of covering their tracks.”

  “You were able to trace them?”

  “Yes,” said Norbert. “But there’s something even more interesting. There was a second signal, much fainter. Someone else was in the stream, and they were playing cat and mouse with the first signal. Guess who the fainter signal belongs to?”

  “Norbert…”

  “It came from one of the NIPC regional data centers,” Norbert quickly blurted.

  “The National Infrastructure Protection Center. FBI?”

  Norbert slowly nodded. “Yeah. They’ve reorganized into small data centers. I’ve seen them sniffing around before, but never this close, and certainly never in our data stream.”

  “Who were the others?”

  “Some company,” said Norbert. He looked at his notes. “ScanDat. The Bureau’s going to raid them.” Norbert added, “I wanted to follow up, to see why they were tracking ScanDat. I didn’t find that out, but they did apply for a warrant to search the company.”

  “And it was granted?” asked Mason.

  “Seems like it, but of course, I don’t have x-ray vision.”

  “Careful.”

  “Sorry.”

  Mason seemed to soften. “Are we at risk of exposure?”

  Norbert hesitated before giving a qualified response. “Not right now, but if the Bureau starts poking around, we do have certain vulnerabilities.”

  “Is there anything we can do to minimize these–vulnerabilities?” Mason sat down in the chair next to Norbert.

  “Not while the FBI is watching. We have a lot of equipment in place that’s getting a bit dated, but installing upgrades is noisy.”

  “And you think the FBI would pick up on it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Mason swiveled in his chair, taking in the wide array of equipment in the computer center. He fixated for a moment on a panel with a series of miniature yellow and green lights. It reminded him of his childhood house, decorated for Christmas. He pushed the thought away. “What would it take to temporarily blind the FBI?”

  “Blind them? What do you mean?”

  “You know–make it so they can’t detect it if we install the equipment upgrades you mentioned.”

  “That’s a tough one. I don’t know all the details of their Internet surveillance methods, but I think we’d have to at least cripple the regional data center that I observed today.”

  “Could you do that?” asked Mason.

  “Theoretically, yes, but only for a short time. They would certainly have backup and recovery procedures in place.”

  “How long would they have to be down?”

  Norbert thought for a moment. “Half a day. Maybe not quite that long. It’s when we actually turn on the new devices that we’re most vulnerable to detection.”

  Mason saw that Norbert was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. We could technically do what you’re asking. Probably. But wouldn’t that be a violation of agency policy?”

  Mason crossed his legs, leaned back, and clasped his hands behind his head. “The thing is, Norbert, there’s something of a conflict in our policy. Of course we’re not supposed to cause damage to agencies like the FBI, but we ourselves also have to survive. Given that the FBI is uncomfortably close to uncovering our operations, I don’t see that we have much choice.”

  “We could keep things as they are; there is no imminent danger.”

  Mason nodded politically. “True enough. But is it fair to say that the FBI’s capabilities will only improve?”

  “I would imagine so. Of course.”

  Mason smiled. “Then logically our job is easier if we start sooner.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Seems cut and dried to me,” said Mason.

  Norbert knew when it was time to stop arguing. He said nothing further. Mason uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and looked the younger man directly in the eye.

  “Do it.”

  “Do it?” said Norbert.

  “Yes. Write a program, or whatever it takes, to bring down the FBI data center long enough for us to install the equipment you mentioned.”

  “I said it could be done, but it’s not an easy task.”

  “Another thing,” said Mason, ignoring his objection. “I want you to write it so that only I can activate it, and all source code is to be transferred to my secure account. Once it works.”

  “It will take some time.”

  “This has top priority.”

  “Yes, sir. But…”

  “No buts. Just do it. And don’t discuss this with anyone.”

  Norbert slowly nodded, and turned back to his monitor as Mason left the room.

  ***

  Katherine happened to be walking past the window overlooking the ScanDat parking lot when the sedans from the FBI pulled up. She stopped and watched as half a dozen men and women, smartly dressed, made their way into the building. She wondered who they were.

  “Hey, Katherine.” Boyd called out to her as she turned away from the window.

  “Yeah, Boyd, what’s up?”

  “I have the test sequencing for the third series nearly complete. Can you be ready by the end of the day?”

  “I think so. Stanley was saying that…”

  She was interrupted by the sound of the main doors opening, followed by the surge into their office of the group she had seen a minute earlier. She suddenly realized what was happening, and hurried to Stanley’s cubicle.

  “Stanley! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Why? What are you talking about?”

  “The agency–Slocum’s people–they’re here!” She kept her voice to a whisper, but it was a panicked whisper.

  “That’s crazy. How could they be here?” He looked over the top of his cubicle, and could see Klugman’s office filled with unrecognized people. He looked at Katherine. “How?”

  She considered, and then snapped her fingers. “The palm unit! When we used it they must have traced it back here. We have to leave. Now.”

  Stanley hesitated for only a moment. The visitors were milling about Klugman’s office, getting ready to do–what? Stanley and Katherine started for the rear exit.

  “Wait, my briefcase.” Stanley turned back.

  “No time!”

  “The palmtop’s in it!” He ducked down and half crawled to the spot under his desk where he had stuffed his case, snagged it on some wires, but then pulled it clear and hurried back to Katherine.

  They weaved their way through the cubicle maze that led to escape, like rats surviving yet another test. One of the agents thought he heard something, and looked in the direction of the rear door. By then it had already closed, and Stanley and Katherine were gone.

  “Spread out. We need to access each one of these workstations, then hit the big iron.” Agent Sharon was in his element, surrounded by computers, clues buried beneath layers of technology. His people would discover what had gone on here; then he would either shut ScanDat down, or leverage what he found to get to those higher on the food chain.

  One of the agents stood near Stanley’s deserted cubicle, Boyd right next to him. “Hey, Boss. Where are the two other employees that were supposed to be here?”

  Sharon looked at Boyd. “Well?”

  “I don’t know. They were here a minute ago.”

  Sharon looked over the sea of cubicles, but didn’t see anyone else. “Check the bathrooms and the stairs. I want to talk to everyone.”

  **
*

  Stanley and Katherine made it out of the building and to their cars without being seen. They left at once, meeting up at a gas station a few minutes later.

  “We can’t go back to the apartment. If they found us at work, they’ll find the apartment,” said Katherine.

  Stanley wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Katherine. If they knew about Slocum’s apartment they would have been there already. They only knew about work because of the download, and when they check our home addresses, they won’t find anything about Slocum’s apartment.”

  “Should we risk a quick stop at the apartment, then find another place to stay?”

  “We shouldn’t have to be on the run, Katherine. We aren’t criminals.”

  “But you saw the way they brushed past Klugman. From what Slocum said, these guys play hardball.”

  “Slocum is tough,” said Stanley. “And they got him somehow.”

  It was a sobering thought. If Slocum, an experienced implementer, familiar with the ways of the agency, had been captured, how much chance did they stand?

  “So what do we do?” asked Katherine.

  Stanley studied the passing traffic in silence. Suddenly he turned to Katherine. “Let’s pick Bobby up from school and get out of town for a couple days.”

  “What about Slocum? And what about work?”

  “We can’t go back to work. We got away this time, but you can be sure they’ll have made up some story to tell Klugman. He’d probably have us arrested as soon as we walked in the door.”

  “There’s one other thing,” said Katherine. “If they showed up because they know we figured out how to use Slocum’s palmtop to access their communications, they must consider us a serious threat.”

  Stanley smiled. “Which means we’re on the right track.”

  “But,” said Katherine, “it also makes us a target, and the only way we’ll be safe is to stay out of sight.” She noticed that Stanley was staring at her. “What?”

  “Two things,” he said. “You’re beautiful, and I never should have involved you in this.”

  “You couldn’t have kept me away. And thank you.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. He recoiled, bending over as he stepped away. “You’re ticklish!” She really let him have it then, but the moment quickly passed.

  “Okay, okay, I give up. Let’s stop by the apartment for our things, then we can pick up Bobby.”

  “And after that?”

  “I have an idea, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll go first, you follow me.”

  They hurried to their cars. Twenty minutes later they were back at the apartment, which was empty, just as when they left it earlier.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here,” said Katherine.

  “Let’s just get our stuff and get out.” Stanley quickly gathered up his and Bobby’s belongings, placing them in the trunk of his car.

  Katherine came down the apartment steps a minute later. “Should we take two cars, or one?” she asked.

  “I think for now we should bring both. We can always switch to one or the other later.”

  “Fine. Let’s go get Bobby.”

  ***

  Bobby’s after school program was little more than a glorified babysitting service for working parents. Forty or so children played various games, talked, or ran around, supervised by one teacher’s aide. The aide was always happy to see parents show up for their kids, as the bedlam lessened with each departing youngster.

  Security was lax, and when the impeccably dressed middle-aged woman walked in and asked for Bobby Whipple, it raised no alarm. She explained to Bobby that she worked with his father at ScanDat and that he had asked her to pick him up and bring him back to the office. It made sense. Ten-year-olds are not very sophisticated, and the simple explanation and mention of his father’s company defused whatever suspicion he might have felt. Bobby nodded and accepted her outstretched hand. The woman glanced around at the other children, and at the aide.

  “Quite a little group you have here.” She smiled pleasantly.

  “Little? Ha! These urchins don’t stop their running around ‘til the last one is gone. I earn my pay, that’s for sure.”

  “You certainly do. Have a nice day.”

  “You too.” The aide turned to a pair of young boys chasing a little girl. “Hey! What did I tell you about that?”

  The middle-aged woman turned and left with Bobby in tow, walking along the wall towards the far exit. No one stopped them, and soon they were outside. They passed through the main gate and turned onto the sidewalk, where a van waited half a block away. When they approached the door opened.

  “Get in, Bobby.”

  Bobby looked at the woman, then at the van. Her expression had changed in some indefinable way, and it made him hesitate. “What’s the secret word?”

  “What?”

  “The secret word. My father said not to get into a car with someone unless they say the secret word.”

  It was a precaution that Stanley took to ensure that his child didn’t ride off with a stranger. Only Stanley and Bobby knew the word, and Stanley wouldn’t send a stranger to pick him up without telling them the word. Bobby had forgotten about that until just now. The woman’s expression had somehow reminded him.

  “He didn’t tell me, Bobby. He must have forgotten.”

  “He wouldn’t forget.” Bobby started to look around, suddenly getting fidgety.

  The woman looked at someone in the van and nodded. The front driver side door opened and a man got out and walked around the front of the van.

  “I know the secret word, Bobby.” He walked up to the boy, who shrank back.

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  “It’s ‘get in the van’.”

  The man took Bobby by the arm and forced him inside. Someone else grabbed him and pulled him into a seat, while the woman jumped in after him. The man ran back to the driver’s side and quickly hopped in, pulling away from the curb as the doors were slammed shut. He guided the vehicle into the road and sped away from the schoolyard.

  As the van took a right turn at the end of the block, Stanley and Katherine pulled up in front of the school, but there wasn’t enough room for both cars. Katherine double-parked behind Stanley as he went inside to collect Bobby. When he saw no sign of his son he went up to the aide.

  “Bobby Whipple? Yes, he was picked up about ten minutes ago. Your co-worker left with him.”

  Stanley looked at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about? I didn’t authorize anyone to pick him up.”

  “She was a nice lady, well-dressed, around fifty, I’d say. She was from your office–said you sent her to get Bobby.”

  “I sent no one,” said Stanley. “And no one in my office matches that description.”

  The aide looked horrified, and was about to yell for someone to call the police, when the phone rang. She answered it, nodded, and then looked at Stanley.

  “It’s for you.” She handed the receiver to him and he placed it slowly to his ear.

  “Yes?”

  There was a moment of silence, then a single word. “Dad?”

  “Bobby! Bobby is that you? Are you okay?”

  A new voice came on the line, a woman’s voice. “Listen very carefully, Mr. Whipple. We have something important to you, and you have something important to us.”

  Stanley was at a loss. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Come now, Mr. Whipple, let’s not be coy. You do have a certain handheld device in your possession, do you not?”

  Stanley was so overcome by the shock of his son’s kidnapping, that he almost forgot. “You mean the palmtop?”

  “Yes. Do you have it with you?”

  Stanley looked up and noticed the aide watching him. He turned and lowered his voice. “I have it.”

  “Good. Then this can be very simple. We’ll exchange your son for the palmtop. But Mr. Whipple, it’s very important that you follow my instructions precisely. Do not involve any o
ther agents, or agencies. That will result in your son’s death. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Do you know where the bus terminal is?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Two blocks east there’s a convenience store. Go there now and wait at the pay phone in the parking lot for a call.” There was a click and the line went dead.

  Stanley turned back to the aide. “My mistake. One of the secretaries was supposed to pick him up next week. She got her dates crossed.”

  The aide looked relieved. “Thank heavens for that. You had me in a panic for a minute there.”

  Stanley nodded goodbye and went back to his car. When Katherine saw that he was alone she went to meet him.

  “Hey. Where’s Bobby?” As he drew closer she immediately sensed that something was wrong.

  “They took him, Katherine.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The agency. Someone came here and took him away. While I was in there they called me and told me to go to a pay phone and wait for a call.”

  “Why would they kidnap Bobby?”

  “To trade for the palmtop.”

  Katherine put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. We have to call the police.”

  “No! They said if I did that they would kill him. I just have to do what they say.”

  “Okay, okay. We need to think for a minute. Where’s the pay phone?”

  “Near the bus depot,” said Stanley. “In the parking lot of a nearby convenience store.”

  “Do what they said. I’ll follow you over and act like I’m a customer in the store. After they call, go into the store and buy something. You can tell me then what they said.”

  “What if they’re close by?”

  “Then just go to the counter and ask for change. Otherwise go to the milk section.”

  “Let’s hurry,” said Stanley, numbly. “I don’t want to miss that call.”

  ***

  George Pampas wasn’t one to fret about his career, but even he had to admit that there had been precious little to brag about lately. Now, though, things were starting to look up. “Mr. Mason,” he said. “I have updates on a couple fronts.”

  “Let’s hear it,” replied Mason.