Dad didn’t seem surprised by any of this so I quickly gave the summation, “She then waited for an opportunity to kidnap me, which is why we are all here now.”
I turned to Melinda and said, “Did I get the basics?”
She nodded.
“There was something you wanted to tell us?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I want to explain what this is really all about, which is not what you two think it’s all about. This is way bigger than just me and Mikey. If you two are willing to help me, and I hope that you are, in exchange I’m willing to tell you everything I know.”
Dad and I stared at each other with such wide eyed innocence you would have thought we were selling Resort Timeshares to tourists. Tell us everything you know in exchange for mere words, a promise to help? What could possibly go wrong?
“I think I can speak for both of us,” Dad said. “We will do whatever we can to help.” When he looked at me I half expected him to wink.
“Thanks,” Melinda said. “I know Mikey hurt you and he has to pay for that. I can understand that, because what he did was wrong. I want to wait for him. But I’m asking if you do find him, please don’t hurt him. I couldn’t stand it if he got hurt.”
“That’s her call,” Dad said. “She’s the one that got assaulted and left in the desert.”
“I won’t hurt him,” I said. “I just want to see justice done, no more, no less.”
Melinda seemed happy with my response. She reached for her wallet, now laying on the bed and extracted a folded up piece of paper wedged behind some credit cards.
“It’s not really about me and Mikey,” she said. “That’s just the smokescreen I told you about, a story fabricated by Alphonso, ‘Big Ears,’ Vietri. It’s really about this.” She handed it to me and watched as I unfolded it. It was a printed copy of an e-mail with some hand written notes on the bottom of the page.
“Tony has no real power,” Melinda said, “at least not until he gets out of prison. Anything important has to come from Big Ears. He knows I took this and wants it back. He’s the one who wants me dead.”
I scanned the e-mail for any hint of its importance but nothing jumped off the page at me. I handed it to Dad.
He read it aloud, “From Melco Crown Entertainment, Macau; To Mr. Alphonso Vietri, Director of Marketing, Global Hotel and Casino; Date: 24 Dec 2012; Subject: Plots 7 and 8 Portuguese language newspaper Hoje Macau Reports Special Administrative Region of The People’s Republic of China to reconvene in order to discuss possible changes to an earlier ruling rejecting Sands China’s Application Request on the Cotai Strip. Translated article attached in PDF format. Sincerely, Howard Chou, President and CEO Melco Crown Entertainment There are some handwritten notes on the bottom of the page,” Dad said. “First one is a number, ‘61398,’ followed by ‘Advisory Capacity,’ and then, ‘BKCHHCNBJ110, and then a number again 000233003003, underlined twice.”
“Looks innocent enough,” I said. “Maybe it’s not the e-mail itself but what’s written on it that makes it so important?”
Dad nodded in agreement, “Doesn’t Jamie work in IT?” he said. “Why don’t you give her a call and see if she can give us a hand with this?”
I dutifully pulled out my cell phone and called Jamie. “Hey girl, you busy? Can you come over and take a look at something for us? You know your boss, the computer genius you’re always bragging about? Is there any way you could bring him with you? Oh, I know, but you’ll ask right?”
“She’s on her way, I said. “She said she would stop by her boss’s house and ask if he would come along. She’s always talking about what a smart guy he is.”
“Good,” Dad said. “We need a genius on our side.”
Turning to Melinda, he said, “While we’re waiting for Jamie what can you tell us about Big Ears and just how you happened to acquire this e-mail?”
“I can tell you he is a cruel man,” Melinda said. “Selfish, vain, with a kind of phony charm he uses to get what he wants. He would see me once in a while, usually every couple of weeks, call me after he had a fight with his wife or just got the urge or whatever. He would usually work until 8:00PM, so he would call me a little after 6:00PM, just after his office staff left for the day.
“He always carries a big roll of Benjamins in his right front pocket. At first I would wait until he fell asleep and help myself to one or two, maybe three, depending on how badly he treated me. After a couple of months, when I needed more and more coke just to make it through the day it became less about revenge and more about paying my supplier.
“The last afternoon I was with Big Ears I reached into his right front pocket and found only that e-mail, folded up. I was upset, thinking where is my money you bastard? I must have made some noise, cause he starts to wake up. Coke brain, right? I slide the e-mail in my bra and then he does wake up and immediately reaches for his pants to get dressed and I have no way to put it back.
“Sometimes in the afternoon, when I wasn’t too wrecked, I would go to the library to do research. So I did find out what 61398 is, but not much else.”
“So what is 61398?” I said.
“Well,” Melinda said, “it actually means PLA 61398. That stands for People’s Liberation Army. They operate out of an office building in Shanghai. Do you remember the stories about the cyber-attacks on Google and Adobe back in January? That was them.”
Melinda was obviously smarter than she dressed and I gazed at her with new found respect. I then asked how she met Mikey and she told me how they met at an after-hours party. She was getting to the part where Mikey was different from any of the others, in that he wanted her to get cleaned up so they could have a future together when we were interrupted by a knock on the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE SMARTEST GUY IN THE ROOM
D ad peeked out the window and said, “Its Jamie and a tall, skinny, pale white guy.”
I went to open the door. “Must be her boss,” I said. “She says he spends most of his time indoors.” Jamie came in and introduced her boss as Rick. He was as pale as a J.C. Penny’s White Sale, but very handsome, with fine features and a nice smile.
Once the introductions were completed, Dad produced the e-mail and asked him to take a look at it. While Rick was scanning the document, Dad decided to test the waters. “Melinda says 61398 refers to a P.L.A. unit in Shanghai,” he said.
“Could be,” Rick said, “P.L.A. 61398 is a sophisticated unit of cyber terrorists that operate under the authority of the Chinese government.”
“Do you see anything that could link them to this e-mail?” Dad said.
“Perhaps,” Rick said. “The hackers sometimes used a malicious PDF attachment which exploits a zero-day vulnerability in Adobe’s Reader application.” Rick looked up and when he saw nothing but blank faces he backed up and tried again. “Zero-day vulnerabilities are security flaws in the software for which there is no current patch. Once you click on the malicious attachment a backdoor Trojan program, called Trojan.Hydraq installs on the system and begins exfiltrating massive amounts of data.”
“So what does Melco have to do with any of this?” Dad said.
“Part of the deception involves the recipient thinking the e-mail is from a trusted source when in fact, it originated elsewhere. It may not be from Melco at all.” Rick said.
“So how do you tell where the e-mail actually comes from?” Dad said.
“You would have to map the Internet protocol addresses to determine who sent it,” Rick said.
“Nothing you could do with just a copy of an e-mail?” Dad said.
“No, not really,” said Rick, smiling politely. “But if you want, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“That would be great, thanks,” Dad said.
While Dad and Rick were talking I managed to pull Jamie aside.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was so cute?” I said.
“You think he’s cute?” she said. “I didn’t really notice, besides, he’s n
ot my type.”
“Oh please. Save it. Since when is tall, smart and adorable not your type?” I asked. “You don’t think he notices that you drool whenever you look at him?”
“First of all,” she said, “he’s a guy. Secondly, he’s a very smart, nerdy guy. Do you know what that means?” she said.
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me,” I said.
“He’s oblivious. Digital Forensics, now that’s something that gets him excited, but girls, he doesn’t know if it’s Christmas or Tuesday,” Jamie said.
“Does your boyfriend know about this ever increasing infatuation with your boss?”
“If you mean, does my so-called boyfriend know about this harmless school girl crush?” she said. “I may have somehow neglected to mention it.”
“Johnny should do a better job of protecting his interests,” I said.
“Johnny should do a lot of things,” she said.
I let that go. I needed Jamie to do something for me and I didn’t want to rock the boat by delving into Johnny’s assets and liabilities on some imaginary Cosmo boyfriend scale. I always thought Jamie could do much better anyway.
“I need to ask for a huge favor. Melinda wants to get clean. She is going to need a place to hideout while she gets straight. Can she stay with you?”
“And oh yeah, by the way the Mob wants her dead?” Jamie said.
“Well, that too,” I said.
“No way, the last time I tried to help someone was a nightmare. Do you know how hard it is to take a shower holding your wallet?” she said.
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I said.
“That coke whore took everything but the furniture. Took my momma’s jewelry, checks out of the checkbook, said she was going to Cocaine Anonymous when she was actually going to Cocaine Among Us,” Jamie said.
“So you’re going to let one bad experience spoil your faith in humanity?” I said.
“Pretty much,” she said.
“Look, Melinda is really very sweet once you get to know her and she needs our help,” I said. “I’ll owe you big time. I promise I won’t mention a word about your new crush to Johnny.”
“Big whoop,” Jamie said, but the look on her face said she caved.
“You’re a sweetheart,” I said.
Jamie needed to have the last word so I let her have it. “Bitch steals a stick of gum I’m bringing her back,” she said.
“Fair enough,” I said.
We rejoined Dad, Rick and Melinda in the bedroom. I told Melinda that Jamie had agreed to take her in and help her get straightened out. Melinda was as eager as a puppy with a new toy. Jamie not so much, but she did a good job pretending.
We said our good-byes as Rick, Jamie and Melinda trooped out the door. Once they were gone we looked at each other with the shared realization that we just opened a basket of snakes and the damn things were now crawling under the bed.
“ ‘Curiouser and curiouser, cried Alice,’ ” I said.
“And not in a good way, but I did learn one thing,” Dad said.
“What’s that?” I said.
“We may have found a way to punch them in the face,” Dad said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE PUNCH IN THE FACE
“O kay, let’s try and get a handle on this,” Dad said.
“I’m in” I said, “but you got to feed me first, we never ate breakfast, remember?” Dad opened the refrigerator and starting pulling out plastic bags filled with his latest finds at the grocery store.
“So why is the People’s Liberation Army sending doctored e-mails to Big Ears Alphonso?” I said.
“The Chinese love to gamble,” Dad said. “Whenever a rice bowl falls off the counter, they wager if it will land rice side down before it hits the floor.” Dad chopped the kale as he spoke, the sound of the knife punctuating each word.
“But, don’t they have casinos in Macau?” I said.
“Indeed they do, Macau is the largest gaming center in the world,” Dad said.
“So they don’t really need to steal Alphonso’s money, and risk major repercussions if discovered. They have plenty of their own, right?” I said.
“Well, the guiding principle in law enforcement,” Dad said, “is always follow the money.” Dad finished filling the blender with fruits and vegetables and hit the button.
“But what if the money is actually flowing the other way,” I said, having to speak loudly to be heard over the roar of the Vitamix. Vitamix should be the ones building jet engines, not Boeing.
“From Las Vegas to China?” Dad said.
“Right,” I said. “When is Tony Battaglia due to be released from prison?”
“He comes up for parole in November,” Dad said.
“So, if Big Ears Alphonso knows leadership will revert back to Tony once he is released, doesn’t he have the incentive to steal as much as he can now?”
“Who is stupid enough to steal money from the mob,” Dad said. “That’s a sure way to wind up dead.” He handed me a huge glass of something dark green.
“But Dad, if there is anybody on earth who is not intimidated by the mob it’s the Red Chinese Army.”
I took a small, tentative sip. Not horrible, but not great either.
“So Dad, play along with me on this. What if Big Ears is feeling unloved, unappreciated? All his hard work unrewarded. Here is a guy that thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, He wants out, but he wants to rub their nose in it, go out in style, on his terms.”
“You mean immerse himself in a fabulously rich, hideously extravagant lifestyle while pulling off the perfect crime?” Dad said.
“Exactly,” I said. “So he makes overtures to the Chinese. They accept. Maybe that’s what the ‘Advisory Consultant,’ is all about.
“He’s going to help the Chinese make money as an Advisory Consultant?” Dad said.
“He’s going to help them make even more money,” I said.
“So what is the P.L.A. going to give Alphonso in return?” Dad said.
“Maybe they are going to make it look like they stole the untold millions of dollars that Alphonso has siphoned off and has secreted in the Bank of China,” I said, “and they are going to protect him from any possible reprisals from the mob. Even the mob doesn’t want to go to war the Red Chinese Army.”
“And,” Dad said, “the mob won’t be able to trace the money.”
“Because of the Bank of China’s secrecy laws?” I said.
“Well that and the fact that not even the mob will be able to unearth Mae Ling’s brother-in law’s account set up under a phony corporate name at the Bank of China,” Dad said.
“Mae Ling? Who is Mae Ling?” I said.
“Oh sorry,” Dad said. “You’re out of the loop. Mae Ling is Alphonso’s wife.”
“His wife is Chinese?” I said in amazement.
“As Chinese as Dim Sum,” Dad said. “They’ve been married for over twenty years now. The rumor is that she is connected somehow, has relatives high-up in the Chinese pecking order.”
“The plot thickens,” I said. “Isn’t this the Chinese Year of the Snake?” I asked.
“Yes,” Dad said, “and I hope they realize they are dealing with one in Alphonso.”
“You’re feeling sorry for the Red Chinese?” I said.
“If you mean those poor peasants involuntarily inducted into the Red Chinese Army and forced to endure unspeakable hardships in order to glorify the People’s Republic of China, then yes, I guess I am,” Dad said.
“Hacking Google, Adobe and God knows who else and undermining the entire infrastructure of North America is enduring unspeakable hardships?” I said.
“It’s probably 12 on/12 off, seven days a week in an unheated, crowded, windowless smoke filled room with nothing but cold noodles for lunch,” Dad said.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like The Long March of 6,000 miles,” I said.
“True,” Dad said. “And speaking of lunch, how is the kale, beet
and apple smoothie?”
“It’s delicious,” I said, “I feel healthier already.”
“All sarcasm aside, if what you say about Alphonso is true, what do we do now?” Dad said.
“Remember that line in Trading Places where Eddie Murphy says the best way to get even with rich people is to turn them into poor people?”
“Yeah,” said Dad.
“We’re going to start by launching our own cyber-attack on the P.L.A.” I said.
“And just how is that going to upset Alphonso’s apple cart?” Dad said.
“We’re going to do it from Alphonso’s computer,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
DON’T LET THE BEDBUGS BITE
“T here is a 24 hour Dry Cleaners a couple of blocks away from Global Entertainment that does all their uniforms,” Dad said. “The guy that runs the place owes me a favor.” He poured himself another healthy dose of dark green slime.
“Well that will get us into the building and up to the Executive Suite, but how do we get into Alphonso’s office?” I said, declining his offer of another serving.
“I have no idea,” Dad said. “Not yet anyway. Maybe create a diversion of some kind. But we do know that he leaves every night about 8:00PM based on what Melinda told us.”
“That’s right,” I said. Maybe we can get Rick to steal his user name and password so once we’re in his office we can launch our cyber-attack on the P.L.A.”
“Since we’re not exactly computer geniuses how do we manage that?” Dad said.
“It should only involve sending an e-mail with the malware as a PDF attachment,” I said.
“Oh is that all?” Dad said. “Doesn’t that require Rick’s assistance once again?”
“We’re only asking him to bend a few rules,” I said.
“Bend? How about jumping up and down on them until they are trampled underfoot?” Dad said.
“So perhaps it’s a moral dilemma wherein the question arises: does a moral end justify the use of immoral means? We’re also asking him to do something that could blow up in our faces, putting him at risk,” I said.
But Nobody Wants To Die Page 7