Deadly Odds

by Allen Wyler

  Emails and text messages, that’s about it.

  What was the world like before smart phones, when people wrote long letters and waited weeks for correspondence to cross the continent or oceans in prop-planes and ships? A world without the Internet seemed unfathomable, so excruciatingly slow.

  Garage door now open, he nosed the car into the narrow interior—allowing more space on Karim’s side to wedge his bulked-up body out the passenger side door. Being considerate toward the slob would be another step in playing his role of sympathizer to the Jahandars and their cause. If he had to play the double agent game, he’d better appear to be the real deal. There wasn’t much time left. But more important, he didn’t want the asshole damaging the door by slamming the edge against the oil-stained power mower.

  Now out on the cracked and oil-stained cement floor, he punched the garage door control. A moment later the agonizing grinding noise began afresh as the heavy door reversed directions and started back down. Arnold unlocked the side door to the backyard without bothering to check on Karim’s extraction progress. If that retarded gorilla couldn’t squeeze out of the car, well, that was his problem. Since Discovery Park, Arnold had been stewing in an unsettling brew of hatred of the Jahandars and everything they stood for, making it extremely difficult to act civilized toward Karim. But what really helped stabilize his mood was that during the drive back here he’d been going back over his plan, refining the final act, savoring the idea of how sweet revenge would taste.

  Arnold bounded up the stairs from the backyard up to the back porch and French doors into the kitchen, opened the right-hand door and entered, and stopped short, dumbfounded. Firouz was sitting at the square Formica table enjoying what appeared to be a mug of tea, sections of the Wall Street Journal spread haphazardly over the tabletop. The bastard had even had the nerve to use his favorite mug.

  Firouz glanced up as if annoyed at being interrupted from reading an interesting article. “Well, well, you’re back.” Firouz smugly folded the section of paper and sat back in the chair with the trace of a smirk, the deliberate sequence of moves clearly intended to emphasize who was in charge. “Have a nice chat with your lawyer?”

  Arnold, so furious at the sight, found himself speechless. He thought: what gives you the right to break into my house? In shocked muteness, he realized his home security system was under computer control. Did this mean Nawzer had already burrowed into his network and disabled the security system for Firouz? A move designed to show technical superiority?

  “How did you get in?”

  Firouz paused for dramatic effect. “I walked.”

  Don’t give him the slightest hint of how angry you are. Not now. Here is the perfect time to be friendly. Arnold forced a smile, wondering, is it as transparent as it feels?

  “You left the back door unlocked,” Firouz said.

  Bullshit. He was a stickler for security. And even if that were the case, the back gates required a numeric code to access. Unless he climbed the fence. He glanced at the door to the basement stairs and saw the deadlock still engaged. Then again, it could just as easily have been relocked. Does he know about the equipment room? Did he have the knowledge to actually install a virus or Trojan horse? A trick that would certainly facilitate Nawazer.

  “Been waiting long?” Arnold asked, his gut killing him, but he’d be damned if he’d pop a Tums in front of this asshole.

  “Long enough to brew tea. Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair opposite his.

  Karim wandered in through the kitchen and continued on, saying, “I’ll be in the other room watching TV, you need me.”

  For lack of anything better to say, Arnold asked, “Water still warm?”

  “Should be. Give it a feel.”

  Arnold checked. Enough hot water remained in the pot for a cup, so he dropped a bag of green tea into the water. “What’s on your mind?” he said as casually as possible, setting the cup on the table and then sliding into the corresponding chair, trying his damnedest for an air of indifference.

  Firouz smiled. “We’re quite pleased with your work.”

  “Doubt you came all this way just to tell me that.”

  “Hardly.” Firouz folded the newspaper, carefully aligning the pages. He muttered, “Newspapers!” while pausing to fold the volume along its original crease. “Dinosaurs. I’m surprised there’s anyone on the planet who still reads them. But I must admit I still love them. There is something about the feel of the newsprint, so coarse, and, of course, the newsprint smell is all very pleasing, don’t you agree?”

  Why the game playing? Why not just get on with whatever was on the agenda? “Haven’t ever thought of it, I guess because I don’t read them.”

  Firouz picked up his mug and inspected the contents. “You’re not interested in what is happening in the world?” He replaced the ceramic on the table without taking a drink.

  “I am. It’s just that I read online. It’s a green thing, I guess. Don’t like the thought of using trees to make a product with such a senseless life. Besides, it’s just one more thing to have to recycle. Might say it’s a pain to do that.”

  Firouz’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Arnold, what is it, exactly, you discussed with your lawyer today?” his voice taking on a much different edge, cold and cutting.

  Arnold laughed. Perfect. Couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. Maybe there was a God after all.

  The terrorist’s eyes turned questioning. “What’s so funny?”

  Arnold held up an index finger and swallowed to buy a few seconds, knowing he needed to play this part flawlessly or else he’d give himself away. He sat back and looked Firouz in the eye. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  Arnold snorted another laugh, figured he’d assembled a sufficient story to pass muster. “Several things. Three things, actually. First, the investigation. He seems to think the police are going to clear me as a person of interest, but they’re no closer to discovering who did it.”

  Firouz leaned forward a bit, studying him more closely now. “And you still did not tell them about us?”

  “No.”

  He frowned. “This makes no sense. I don’t believe you.”

  “Naseem,” Arnold continued, using Breeze’s real name as a display of respect, “said you have a source with the police. I assume they’re keeping you in the loop on this?”

  “That’s beside the point. The police can keep things secret if it serves their purpose.” Firouz made a get-on-with-it motion. “You and your lawyer. Continue.”

  Arnold saw the moment as a pivotal point in the discussion, one he needed to play very cautiously. He thought of the lesson his father had taught him for selling a desirable piece of jewelry that was more expensive than a customer planned to spend: make the price non-negotiable and the customer will want it even more.

  Arnold forced a laugh, dragging out his response. “I give him tips.”

  “Tips?”

  “Yes. Point-spreads on football games, so he can bet them. Can’t afford his fees, so this is how I pay him. It works out well.”

  Firouz appeared doubtful about this. “You said three issues. What else?”

  Arnold lowered his voice slightly and glanced from side to side. “That’s something I wanted to talk with you about, so it’s good you came by.” He cast another glance toward the hallway, as if checking for Karim, but, as expected, didn’t see him. He heard the TV come on in the other room. “An FBI agent contacted Davidson.”

  Firouz’s posture straightened, eyes flaring. “FBI?”

  Arnold nodded. “Yeah.” And let it hang, making Firouz work for the answer.

  Firouz must’ve realized his body language revealed too much, so tried to relax, but Arnold interpreted the move as forced and disingenuous. Firouz gave another get-on-with-it motion.

  “He said the agents want to talk to me, find out what I know about you and your, ah, colleagues.”

  Head cocked, Firouz chewed on the words
a moment. “They know about me? How?”

  Now came the tricky part: weaving a web that would make Arnold the focus of attention, a position in which no liar would willingly place themselves. Arnold dropped his eyes, sighed, shoulders slumped. The best lie, he knew, was one close enough to the truth to lessen the risk of screwing up the story later on.

  He shook his head. “I fucked up. With the IRS. I haven’t paid taxes and for some reason, they found out about it as well as my gambling.”

  Firouz sat back in the chair and rubbed the side of his nose, studying him several seconds, perhaps weighing whether or not to believe him. “Interesting. But this raises other questions. This doesn’t explain why they would talk with to your lawyer about me. Why would they assume you and I know each other?”

  Thank God I anticipated this. “I’m not sure. I think maybe it’s because of Naseem.”

  “Naseem? They were in Vegas? These FBI?”

  And this was where the story really became treacherous. “No, no. My lawyer believes they had Howard’s funeral under surveillance, looking to see who I associated with. He doesn’t know this for sure, because I asked this specifically. But she was in the car when I was left, so…” letting him fill in the blank.

  Firouz paused to sip tea with affected casualness. After a few seconds he nodded to himself as if accepting the fabrication. “Why don’t you pay taxes? Isn’t this risky, especially given you gamble?”

  Was he buying the story or simply probing for lies? No way to tell for sure, and this time Firouz’s body language revealed nothing. “Couple reasons. For one, why give the government money if you can keep it?”

  The terrorist’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”

  Time to bait the hook. “The other reason is personal.”

  “Tell me.”

  After a resigned sigh and a calculated pause, Arnold explained, “Pretty simple, really. Tax dollars pay for drones and other weapons of mass destruction this government uses for reasons I don’t morally or philosophically agree with. Killing innocent civilians, for one. The same money that otherwise could be spent rebuilding our bridges and roads or supporting our schools, and God knows, our infrastructure needs work. Our politicians have their priorities backward. It sucks.” This said with convincing contempt.

  “I didn’t know you felt this way.” Firouz appeared to regard him with a different glow in his eyes and tone of voice. “And this is why you said nothing to the authorities?”

  “Already discussed that. They’re not exactly the same reasons, but I guess in a way they are related.”

  “I see.” Firouz pushed out from the table to stand in front of the window over the sink to look at the limited view to the neighbor’s house. After several seconds, “And your reason for telling me this is?”

  “You asked me a question,” putting a shrug into his voice. “I answered it. That’s it.”

  He nodded. “So I did.”

  Arnold suspected he’d convincingly sold the story, so decided to move to a different topic. “You still haven’t explained why you’re here.”

  Firouz turned from the sink after what appeared to be a decision-making moment. “We have a special job for you, an important one. Not like the ones you’ve been given so far.”

  Uh oh. Here it comes. Just as he suspected, the previous jobs had been nothing more than tests to evaluate his allegiance and how compliant he was, to explore whether or not he would be a problem. Arnold simply listened.

  Karim appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, suddenly interested in the conversation.

  “In about an hour we will contact you and give you the assignment. We expect the results by Saturday.”

  “Saturday? Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way I can guarantee a deadline without knowing what the hell the task is.”

  Firouz shook his head. “Not an option. You will complete the assignment and that’s that.”

  “Hey, I’ll try.”

  “I probably need not to remind you of this, but I will: you try to cross us, I’ll fucking kill you. If it comes to that, I won’t think twice. Your system isn’t worth the grief. Are we absolutely clear on this?”

  Interesting. This was the first reference to trying to steal his system. A slip of the tongue or intentional? Did it make any difference? No, not really. He could feel his blood pressure jacking up to dangerous levels, intensifying the gnawing pain in his gut. He wanted to slap the smug look off the bastard’s face, but had to be satisfied with knowing that if his plan worked, he’d bring down not only both Jahandars but the entire group’s infrastructure as well.

  Without waiting for an answer, Firouz turned toward the front door. “Back to work. Both of you.”

  Karim stepped out of Firouz’s way, apparently content to carry on his day as if nothing had happened.

  Still seething, Arnold walked into the first-floor bathroom and closed the door. He stood at the sink, rinsing his face, taking in deep, controlled breaths in an effort to soothe his temper and lower his blood pressure.

  For another moment he enjoyed the isolation from the Jahandars. He sat on the closed toilet, mentally reviewing his plan. If they needed an analysis by Saturday, it could only mean that their attack was imminent and that Nawzer was closer to penetrating his security. It occurred to him that Firouz had done an excellent job of distracting him while Karim had been elsewhere in the house. Doing what, exactly? No way he’d gotten into the basement, so that part was safe. Then again, Karim had done a good job delaying their return with the trip up to the park. How long had Firouz been in the house before they returned? Could he be more computer savvy than he let on? And what about Karim and his damned smartphone? Had he texted Firouz? Was the trip to the park nothing more than a way of giving Firouz more time in the house? That had to be it. Firouz had planted something in his computer.

  Arnold went straight from the bathroom to the kitchen table without bothering to check Karim’s whereabouts. Didn’t really give a shit. Besides, Karim could be standing right behind him looking over his shoulder and wouldn’t have a clue what he was doing. Not so with Firouz. That was one sneaky sonofabitch.

  The laptop was closed. Which was unusual. He always kept it open. But so what? Firouz had been sitting at the table reading the paper and perhaps he needed more space. Maybe that was sufficient explanation. But he doubted it. There had to be something fishy. He angled the screen back to its usual position and now saw that the log-on screen was glowing. The machine was set to power-down after an hour of inactivity, meaning it should now require a partial reboot instead of idling. Rather than log on to the computer, he left it as it was and disconnected the power cord, flipped the box over, slipped out the battery, and waited a full minute by his watch before reinserting it.

  30.

  With the machine now plugged back in, he punched the power button. But before the computer could boot, he pushed F1, aborting the routine into safe mode. One by one, he loaded only those routines absolutely essential for running Windows. Once the laptop was safely up and running with only the bare essential software, he initiated a scan for any segment of code that had been loaded into the computer since midnight. While the scan ran, he brought up the system configuration and studied the programs scheduled to load during a routine boot, searching for anything different.

  He found the alien program. Nothing fancy. Nothing remotely sophisticated. Just an off-the-shelf chunk of software anyone could purchase online or in a computer store for under $100, a small bit of software to record keystrokes and mouse activity. Just the thing a prying parent or suspicious spouse might use to spy on a loved one. Okay, he now knew the real purpose of Firouz’s visit. Only required a flash drive and a few simple instructions to install this bit of spyware, so even if Firouz was a complete computer idiot, he could be easily coached by Nawzer through the installation. He surprised himself at not even getting mad. On reflection, he realized he might’ve been
really steamed if they’d gotten away with it, but its presence on his machine told him a great deal. Most importantly, the little gem’s presence undoubtedly meant the terrorist had also embedded a second piece of software that, when activated, would be capable of linking his machine back to the terrorists’ computer. This second piece of software would allow Nawzer to sink his digital hooks into Arnold’s computer. Once that happened, it would only be a short matter of time until they possessed his complete system. The moment that happened, Firouz would order Karim to kill him. So time was now rapidly expiring.

  Unless Arnold killed Karim first.

  Arnold leaned back in the chair, fingers interlaced behind his head. What to do? Disabling the bug would immediately tip off Nawzer of the device’s discovery. Leaving it might lull the terrorist into complacency. Better yet, by leaving it untouched he could use it as a perfect conduit for disinformation. Hmmm….

  Time to think carefully and to not react hastily out of anger. The really good news was having anticipated the possibility of becoming infected with this type of virus long before any involvement with the Jahandars, he’d developed and installed a series of well-disguised defenses in his system. Malicious hackers scoured the net for computers of unsuspecting, security-lax users whose machines could be hijacked for any number of reasons, including pirating them for use as Deep Net transfer points. How much exposure an individual’s computer risked was directly proportional to the number of hours a day it remained connected to the Internet and powered. Because Arnold spent time on the Deep Net, he guarded against malicious intrusion by partitioning the laptop into two virtual machines. The first—the one a hacker would encounter through illegal access—would appear as a generic Best Buy laptop in the typical entry-level user’s home. The other, hidden hard drive, which could be accessed only via a hidden password, was the real gateway into his artificial intelligence system. Nawzer would realize the dupe but only after looking carefully at the hardware installed on the machine. Once he tumbled to that, he’d search for the hidden partition.