“Abby, what’s code 3-7-1?”
“Hold on,” she said. They heard her typing again. “Okay, got it. That one’s a little more complicated. It’s another proximity connection, but it’s not Jeff himself. It’s someone in his inner circle. Not family, though. It’s a business relationship. I’d have to dig into it to see. This one’s M98. A little bit closer, but still probably not an issue...” She typed for a minute. “Yeah – Sacramento is about a hundred miles away from Jeff’s destination. Safe bet that that’s it. Again, not uncommon for someone to be in Sacramento.”
“Inner circle?” Dexter asked. “How does the system determine that?”
“Oh, there’s any number of ways. Maybe frequency of business transactions, shared addresses, such as a roommate… Even volunteered information such as social media,” Abby said without looking up. “You know when you put apps on your phone and the app asks you for permission to share your contacts?”
“Geez.”
While Abby didn’t see a red flag, Dexter did. He’d been to Sacramento while they’d been researching the Wilton Heist. He’d landed there and then visited the California Gold Rush Museum, which was about an hour-and-a-half outside the state capital. It was so long ago that he couldn’t remember the exact details of the trip, but he was sure he hadn’t purchased anything at the Museum. Likely, he would’ve made some kind of transaction in Sacramento, though – hotel, rental car, dinner. Who could know? The question was – how would the computer link him with Jeff, if that was truly what the algorithm was interpreting?
“Abby, does it give you a time frame of the proximity alert?” he asked.
“You mean like when did it take place? Sure.” A pause. “About four years ago. I just have the year – not the exact date, but I could get it.”
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “For the purpose of making the connection, what would constitute a business transaction?” At the moment, Dexter wished he’d paid more attention to Bremner’s lectures over time – they would have come in handy now that he was trying to psycho-analyze the computer system. He would tell people he had a working knowledge of the process, but this was much deeper than he’d ever gone.
“Remember, the system is analyzing any piece of data it can get its hands on,” Bremner said. “So, any legal transaction, contract... sign a lease together, co-sign on the bank account... Credit card transactions. Any of those things will trigger the system.”
Dexter wracked his brain to see if he could remember what he might have done in Sacramento. He couldn’t. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. “That’s pretty impressive,” he said. “It’s pretty invasive, but it’s pretty impressive. Just seems like an enormous amount of data. I make credit card transactions every day, and I’m one person.”
“Yep,” Bremner said, laughing. “We know you do.”
“What?” Dexter nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face Bremner. Was he being watched?
Bremner laughed again. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. What the American people don’t know won’t hurt them. Right?”
“That’s a very uncomfortable question. I’d rather plead ignorance.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” he said. Bremner must have interpreted the look on Dexter’s face as disconcerted, because he continued, “Remember, Dr. Murphy, that the information we’re processing is either of public record or volunteered. Credit card transactions are listed on people’s credit reports, which are accessible any time you apply for a mortgage. The data collected on you by your grocery store and department stores… You gave them the right to use it when you signed up for their discount card. Social media accounts I don’t even have to mention. All we’re doing is managing that information in a much more progressive way. I would’ve thought you’d understood that by now.” He turned to the screens again.
“Well, it gives off a very different feel when it’s your-” He caught himself starting to say “own,” thankfully, “-best friend’s data that’s being analyzed.”
He looked at Bremner studying the screens. He had a smirk on his face – he was enormously proud of the system he’d created. It would be hard not to be. If that red flag on Jeff’s record did indeed lead to some random restaurant bill Dexter had charged four years before, that was pretty damned impressive. But a lot of damage could be done with a weapon so powerful. Jeff’s conspiracy theory, as he’d enunciated just before going into his meeting with Victoria, was certainly plausible, if not suddenly probable, to Dexter’s mind. He hoped he was wrong.
Dexter took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Six hours, you say?” he asked. “Alright, I’m going to head out and catch up with this tomorrow.”
“He’s in the psych exam now, right?” Bremner asked. “Tomorrow he’s got the physical?”
Dexter nodded.
“Alright, let’s get some kind of presentation on this set for tomorrow afternoon. I want him through this program so we have everything back up and running as soon as we can. I’ve got four people I’m putting off calling back who want to participate in the program. Big money people. Let’s not screw around here, Dr. Murphy.”
“I’ll make sure,” Dexter said. He said goodbye to Abby and the other folks in the room before heading out the door. He made his way down the long hallway to the elevators where he’d dropped Jeff off and pressed the up button. As he waited, the followed the path of his trip to the Gold Rush Museum in his mind – it was so long ago – attempting to justify the “transactions” he might have made along the way It was futile, though. There were far too many ways to track a person’s movement – his flight’s destination, the hotel, rental car, any meals he had, etc. He felt ominously like the USTP was now less than six hours away from finding evidence linking him to Jeff’s running a year and a half ago, and frustratingly wasn’t coming up with a way to avoid it. All he could associate it with was that dark feeling a person got after mistakenly hitting “reply all” on a sensitive e-mail and having no recourse but to wait for the fall-out.
Wanting to check on Jeff after taking the elevator up to the atrium, Dexter walked across the expansive floor, nodding to a few co-workers he recognized as they hurried past him in their daily business. He stopped to talk to one of his colleagues who had just gotten back from New Orleans to ask how his trip had been, then badged into the secure area where the exam room was. He followed the hallway to the room where he’d dropped Jeff off. The door was still closed, which likely meant his friend was still inside. He checked his phone again, not wanting to stick around if he didn’t need to. But he wanted to mention to Jeff the possible connection the program had found.
He purposefully had not shown Jeff any reaction to his choice of the Gold Rush when he’d named it as his destination, and Jeff hadn’t made a point of bringing it up to him either. He figured Jeff intended it to be a silent understanding between the two of them. It was a terrible idea to highlight Wilton, but Dexter knew that, even if he’d had the chance to try to change his mind, it wouldn’t have worked. Jeff was planning something.
Choosing not to wait, he started to turn and leave but the door opened suddenly. Jeff came out, and past him Dexter could see Victoria collecting her supplies at the end of the table. “Impeccable timing,” he said, to which Jeff nodded. “How’d it go?”
“It was fine,” he said, grabbing Dexter by the arm and leading him down the hallway away from the room.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve just got to talk to you,” he said.
They pushed through the security doors and out into the atrium, where Jeff let go of his arm. They walked quickly but casually across the floor, past the guards and out the main doors into the cold air. Jeff pointed at a grouping of picnic tables in an overly landscaped area of the USTP grounds.
“What’s up?” Dexter asked once they were seated.
“Do you think there are microphones here?”
He looked around. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“I’
m just learning we can’t be too careful,” he said. “I need to find Agent Fisher. Tonight. Do you know how I can reach him?”
“Agent Fisher? Why?”
Jeff shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I just need to get hold of him.”
“Geez, I have no idea,” he said. “Have you seen him today? It’s possible he’s here somewhere.”
“I don’t get the sense from talking to him that he’s stationed here. I think that he’s working on USTP work, but I don’t know that he’s officially assigned. I think the link is me.”
“Honestly, Jeff, I don’t know him that well.”
Jeff sighed and leaned his elbows on the table.
“Why did you choose the Wilton Heist as your destination?”
His friend laughed, looking back up at him. “Honestly? I don’t know. I was just having some fun. Couldn’t think of anything else that might trick the system into making a clear mistake.”
“You could’ve chosen anything in history, and you choose somewhere where you have an actual connection. And somewhere where I have a connection. I can’t believe you did that.”
“Well, I didn’t think anyone could make that connection, except for what’s written in the journal,” he said. “Which is nothing. A pipe dream. There wasn’t anyone really, besides you and me, who knew about it. Oh yeah, and Victoria.”
“And the fact that your device was found…Wait, Victoria?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Idiot other me told her about it.”
“For someone who’s worried about planted microphones in the grass, you’re being awfully haphazard.”
He held up his head. “Alright. It was stupid. What do you want me to do?”
“Well, now it’s more stupid,” Dexter said, annoyed at his aloofness. “The computer found a link between you and your destination, and I think it’s me.”
“You?”
“Yes. There was what we call a proximity alert, which means that you or someone close to you was in close vicinity of the targeted destination. This particular one was someone in your inner circle making some kind of traceable action in Sacramento, four years ago. Sound familiar?”
He looked confused. “Yeah, but how would they be able to trace you to me? Inner circle? I don’t understand.”
“They said social media, business transactions… There’s all kinds of connections they can make,” he said.
“Well, I don’t do social media,” Jeff said. “Oh, wait – you know what? I used to have you on that Friend Finder app on my phone. I wonder if…”
“Don’t wonder, Jeff. It’s that scary.”
Jeff clapped his hands. “Duh,” he said. “This isn’t as confusing as we think. We work together. Our names show up on the same payroll.”
Dexter smiled. “Okay, that one was right in front of my face. I’m overwhelmed by all of this intrigue.”
“I’m assuming you’re talking about the trip to the Gold Rush Museum?”
“Has to be.”
Jeff buried his face in his hands for a moment, quietly thinking. Dexter found himself succumbing to his friend’s anxiety about being watched or listened in on, and searched the surrounding area for any signs of tracking. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“I need Fisher,” Jeff said into his hands, then looked up.
“What about the connection? They’re going to research it, and if it’s me, they’re going to think something’s up.”
He was shaking his head, correcting him. “I’m not worried about that,” he said. “Couple reasons. You’re a well-traveled historian. Why would it be strange that you might be in Sacramento? You’ve probably traveled lots of places to do research, not to mention conferences, speaking engagements, your own personal travel. Them trying to make that into a connectable incident would be a pretty big stretch.”
“But I didn’t say anything when they brought it up. Won’t they think that’s strange?”
“What would you say? ‘I went to Sacramento once’? Who cares?”
“What’s the other reason?”
“The other reason is that our friend Abby is the one analyzing the data. I don’t imagine she’ll throw either of us under the bus.”
“Let’s hope not,” he said. Jeff’s points were good. Only a few hours ago, he’d been accusing Jeff of being a conspiracy theorist. Now he was getting bent-out-of-shape about a line of data in the midst of a trillion other lines of data. Though, he was confused about why he himself was having a guilty conscience about something they’d never actually done. Probably because he was planning his own subterfuge to come. Which was not his strong suit.
“So, no ideas on Fisher?”
Dexter shook his head. “How do you find an FBI agent? Unless... No, that won’t work.”
“What won’t?”
“Well, you think he’s assigned to you, right? As opposed to the program in general?” Jeff nodded. “Maybe if you do something stupid, you’ll attract his attention. Get him to come to you.”
He watched Jeff think. “Do something stupid,” his friend repeated thoughtfully. “That might work. I wonder if it’d get his attention fast enough. I don’t want to do anything that will cause permanent harm. You know?”
“Use their tracking you to your advantage. Go somewhere. Or, no how about this... Make a phone call to someone that would be suspicious. From your hotel room.” He brainstormed as he talked. “I got it... Call Russia. Call Russia from your hotel phone. Make them wonder why.”
Jeff was nodding. “Yes, yes. That might work. I’ll have Fisher all over me in no time if I do that. Good thinking.”
“See? I can be devious too.”
“Well, you’d better use your deviousness and get planning on how you’re going to stop Benjamin Kane,” Jeff said. “The window of opportunity is shrinking.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dexter’s plan played like a fiddle. Jeff had rushed home and called the office where he remembered Ekaterina Batrudinov – the woman who had led him through his Russian adventure – worked, and within a half-hour Agent Fisher called him. He started off simply with, “What the hell are you doing?” It hadn’t even carried an admonishing tone, more one of exasperation. But Jeff was pleased that the gambit had worked.
He’d told Fisher that he needed to continue their conversation as soon as possible, and Fisher had responded that his timing was perfect. He’d given Jeff instructions to meet him on East Basin Drive, the road right behind the Jefferson Memorial in Washington. About a half-hour drive once rush hour had cleared out.
That was where Jeff now sat in his rental, waiting for Fisher to show himself. He hadn’t offered any details on the phone as to why he was meeting him there, so Jeff realized it all could have been a giant set-up. But Jeff had felt that their last conversation was significant enough to create some degree of trust between them, and made himself comfortable with the decision to blindly follow his instructions. Besides, he’d reasoned, it wasn’t as if the FBI couldn’t find him when and as they needed him, so there really was no need for misdirection.
As he sat, he recollected his day starting with Bremner’s frightening linkage of threat analysis to past events. From the moment that he’d determined human time travel was possible, what the USTP was doing – or what he suspected they were doing – had been his greatest fear. In the wrong hands, time travel was quite possibly the most dangerous weapon man had ever constructed. Certainly, there were good things that could be accomplished with it from a scientific perspective, including a greater understanding of the universe in which they lived, but from a military or societal perspective, absolute catastrophe was a legitimate concern.
Then there was Victoria’s comment about his “plans.” She’d deduced something from his conversation, or perhaps she knew enough about him from their prior relationship that she understood he wasn’t going to tolerate being out of control of his life for very long. He wondered what her intentions were with the diagnosis
she’d made. But she had stopped recording during that line of questioning. As much as he was trying to work through everything, she seemed to be doing the same.
There was a knock on his window, which made his heart palpitate. He looked up to see Fisher standing next to his car, the very last remnants of daylight setting behind him. Jeff pushed open the car door and got out.
“Do you think you were followed?” Fisher asked.
He laughed. “I would assume so. Though, if you’re the one who’s supposed to be following me, then I’m probably okay.”
“Well, we won’t stick around for long then.”
“Stick around?”
“Come with me.”
They walked briskly across the grounds of the Jefferson Memorial, which was now brilliantly lit. Jeff had visited as a teenager on a high school class trip from New Jersey, and hadn’t seen the Memorial this close since then. They walked past the structure to the edge of the water in the Tidal Basin, where they stopped, facing the Washington Monument, and beyond it, the White House.
“Alright, here’s the story,” Fisher said once they could no longer see another human being. “Ever since you ran, we installed a system to check on the status of the time devices. When one is removed from the security facility, Bremner and I are automatically alerted. That’s whether it’s legitimate or unauthorized. It’s really only a failsafe that would lead to an investigation later, because if a device is taken, it’s probably already too late to do anything about it. Since you disappeared, there have been no unauthorized removals of a device. And there probably won’t be. The system is too well-equipped.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Jeff asked. He started to think that Fisher was subtly telling him how to get to the devices. But why the strange location?
“One of the devices was removed today.”
“Oh. But you just said-”
“It was legitimate. It was taken by the USTP director.”
Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) Page 16