Death of Secrets

by Bowen Greenwood

  l33tluser> Hey, see? I am useful, despite what everyone says! Catch you later, KH.

  Colleen clicked an icon and started her decryption program.

  The program was one she'd written herself last year, as a project for her mathematics class. It analyzed encrypted messages for patterns and then subjected those messages to infinite random permutations based on those patterns until it found one that made the message legible. Too simple for intelligence-grade cryptography, it worked for some simpler things. She called it CodeHoover.

  This time, instead of trying to point it directly at the files on the flash drive, she simply typed in the list of all the files on the flash drive, and set it to work. Even for modern computers, that performed millions and billions of calculations in seconds, infinite random permutations could take a while. In theory, of course, it could take forever. But in practice she'd let it run overnight and if it didn't produce something by then she'd give up.

  She leaned back in her chair and let the program run, starting a music player and turning the volume way down.

  Right in the middle of her favorite love song she saw the blinking light that indicated another message waiting on her instant-messaging program. She clicked it, and saw l33t was looking for her again.

  l33tluser> You still there KH?

  l33tluser> Colleen?

  KH12> Sorry, I'm here. I was distracted, what's up?

  l33tluser> Listen, I remembered something else I heard a while ago that I thought you might be interested in.

  KH12> Shoot.

  l33tluser> Well, this is just an old rumor I heard a year ago, but since you mentioned the guy it got me thinking, and eventually this came back into my mind. No one ever offered anything like proof, but there was a rumor going around the Net back then that Harrison was working for Jakarta when he got caught.

  KH12> Jakarta? He's the guy who did the NSA hack, right?

  l33tluser> Yeah, and the Pentagon web site vandalism, and the theft of the minutes from a meeting of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China. He's all that.

  KH12> Yeah, I've heard of him, of course. Interesting little tidbit there. Thanks, l33t.

  l33tluser> If you're doing something that means you actually get to talk to Jakarta, you better save me a log of the conversation. I'd kiss your feet if you were that cool.

  KH12> I’m not that cool.

  When she closed that message window, Colleen was surprised to learn that her decryption program had already spit out results. She saw the list of files she'd typed in translated on the screen before her, and it looked too good not to be right.

  13446321 isreader.h

  45434212 isreader.cpp

  76454532 mainfrm.cpp

  56463425 mainfrm.h

  87878907 diag.jpg

  56736975 isreader.rc

  33876532 mainfrm.rc

  57905643 backend.cpp

  40323093 backend.h

  21213212 is.exe

  73642861 is.inf

  CHAPTER 6

  Colleen peered at the file names in awe. Success! The decrypted list represented normal file names. The most important were those that ended in ".rc," ".cpp," or ".h." That meant it was a source code file – the instructions which would make up a program. Files with ".exe" after their names were actual programs – when you clicked on them they would run and do something.

  Holding her breath, she tried to run the program file she'd discovered on the flash drive. Nothing happened but an error message. She tried to open one of the source code files. Nothing came up but gibberish.

  With one last sigh she put CodeHoover to work on one of the source code files, now that she'd learned the proper names to open them. Running that thing through infinite possible random permutations stood a good chance of taking forever, but at least she could let it run over night. She left the computer running and turned off the screen.

  ***

  Kathy woke up to the smell of coffee. She opened one eye just a crack, and perceived a Styrofoam cup being held near enough for her to smell. When her eye opened wider she saw Michael holding it.

  She grunted and closed her eyes. But she did grab the coffee.

  She felt something on the bed beside her, and opened her eyes again. The potent smell of grease and salt gave it away as fast food breakfast.

  "I brought breakfast," Mike said.

  Kathy managed to croak out some words of thanks, then shoved a sandwich in her mouth.

  After eating, she showered, and prepared herself to face the day. When she came back out, she sat down at the hotel table with Mike.

  "I've been thinking in the shower," she said. "And what I think is that we can't run forever."

  Mike nodded.

  "So what we need to do is find a way to resolve this without getting shot. I don't think we can just give them the flash drive, because they might kill us anyway just because we might know what's on it."

  Michael agreed. "Besides, this stuff is pretty conspiratorial. It’s entirely possible that they’re foreign spies, in which case I don’t want to assist them. We need to go on the offensive," he said. "As near as I can tell, the only victory for us is one in which these guys, whoever they are, end up in jail."

  "Right." Kathy took a sip of the coffee, and then continued. "Trouble is, we don't know who they are or where they are. The only clue we have to them is that flash drive. Finding out what's on the flash drive is our only chance."

  Mike nodded. "But your roomie has it."

  "Right," Kathy said. "So we need to go get her."

  Mike frowned. "There's a lot of risk in us going to Georgetown to find her."

  "Yeah, I know. So let's call her and arrange to meet her."

  Mike scratched his chin. "Nathan said not to use those prepaid cell phones he gave us unless it was an emergency. But it seems like one call could be safe as long as her cell phone remains uncompromised."

  "Not her cell phone, your friend Nathan has me scared of those." Kathy replied. "They know who Colleen is, so they can find that. But when John and I listened in on them, we overheard them say they couldn't find Colleen. That means they don't know where she is. And that means it should be safe to call her boyfriend’s place, where she’s staying."

  He didn't reply right away. Finally he said, "Well, I guess it's a chance we have to take. We have to look at that flash drive, and that means we need Colleen."

  Kathy nodded. "Let's do it." Together they stood up, and walked out of the room.

  ***

  Tilman marched out of the elevator wearing a scowl, and that made his secretary's current job all the worse. Delivering bad news was never fun, and delivering bad news when the recipient was already mad often had disastrous implications for one's whole job. Nevertheless, she waved for his attention as he marched past her toward his own office.

  "Yes?" was his only greeting.

  "Eliza Jackson resigned," she said. "Her letter was on my desk when I came in."

  Tilman stared at her for a second, and then swore violently. "What? She can't resign!"

  The secretary shrunk back from her boss and pushed the letter across the smooth surface of her desk. "She said she was upset about Ivan's death."

  "That's no reason to resign! Get anyone in the company who knew her personally up to my office right now! And after that, get her on the phone!"

  Muttering more curses, Tilman walked away from her desk and into his own office. He shut the door and took a deep breath.

  Eliza had been the manager supervising Ivan Krupotnik's work on the GigaStar project. With the coder dead and the supervisor gone, things would look grim to an outsider. Only Alicia Dugan, the engineer in charge of the GigaStar hardware itself, was still with the company. It wouldn’t hurt the product itself, of course. But if Congress or the NSA learned of this before the Committee vote…

  He wanted to talk to his head of security about this. With Eliza coming so close on the heels of Ivan, any objective observer would start to see the shape of a delib
erate attack on his GigaStar program. But the security man was busy with another assignment, he knew. And with his secretary summoning employees who knew Jackson, he'd soon be in the middle of a small conference here. Any conversation with the security chief about the possible implications for GigaStar would have to wait until there were fewer prying ears and eyes about.

  He eased down into his chair and read the typewritten letter.

  Dear Mr. Tilman:

  My year of service at Electron Guidewire has been among the most professionally rewarding and challenging of my career. You provided an opportunity to work on the cutting edge of the information technology field, and for that I am grateful.

  Nevertheless, I cannot continue in my position. Ivan and I were very close, and his death has deeply moved and saddened me. I don’t feel I can continue to come to work in the same office where we became such good friends.

  My apologies for the abrupt departure, but I know you'll have no trouble recruiting a replacement. Competent IT professionals will jump at the chance to work for such a leading edge company.

  Sincerely,

  Eliza Jackson

  His secretary beeped on the intercom, letting him know the first of his employees was here as requested. Tilman tossed aside the letter and bid her let the man in. The video wall had a number of possible scenes it could show, stored on the Electron Guidewire computer network, and he chose a visual of a steep drop off a cliff, to send a subtle message to whoever his secretary had come up with for his first victim. Tilman brought his facial expression under control and waited.

  Enrico Matzionne came timidly through his door and shuffled down the length of the big room. A fireplug of a man, he was wide from his shoulders all the way down to his waist. His curly black hair hung down over his ears. Tilman knew the man was popular with his coworkers for a wide repertoire of jokes, but the humor seemed drained out of him by the summons to the boss's office. About half-way across he said, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

  "You were close to Eliza Jackson?"

  He stopped in his tracks and his jaw dropped open. "Were? Past tense? Has something happened to her?"

  "Sorry, I misspoke," Tilman said. "She's resigned. It comes as a big shock, and I want to know why."

  Matzionne made it to one of the guest chairs and slumped into it. "Sir, that's a huge shock to me. As far as I knew she was totally happy with her job. Did she say why?"

  "Yeah. Her letter says he was upset about what happened to Ivan."

  Matzionne rubbed his chin. "Well, we all are. But I'm surprised that she would resign over it."

  "Did you talk to her yesterday? Did she say anything that gave any hint?"

  Matzionne rubbed his chin. "We had lunch yesterday, and she didn't give me any clue at all. I would have expected her to tell me."

  "Well," Tilman continued, "Has she told you anything at all anytime recently that might explain this?"

  Matzionne fidgeted in his chair. "Well, she was… Sir, I don't feel comfortable…"

  Tilman leaned forward behind his desk. "Look, Enrico. I don't want you to worry that anything you tell me will hurt her professionally. I'm all about results, not personal details. She did good work for the company, and that's why I want her back. I don't give a rat about anything in her personal life except where it might help me hire her back."

  Matzionne nodded. "OK. Still, it's her business, not mine, and I don't want to sound like a gossip. But Eliza had a bit of a gambling problem. I think she ran up a ton of debt on trips to Atlantic City."

  "OK," Tilman said, perking up. "Now that's a problem I can solve for her. I'm going to try calling her later today, and maybe if I offer to take care of problems like that for her, she'll come back."

  "Um, sir… I'd feel better if you didn't come right out and tell her you know about that."

  "Relax, Enrico. I won't make any trouble for you," Tilman replied. "Thanks for your help."

  Matzionne was smart enough to recognize that as a dismissal. He stood up and made the long trek back to the office door, making way for the next employee who knew Jackson.

  Despite his promise, Tilman proceeded to ask the next employee, and the three who came after that, if they knew whether Jackson was having money problems, possibly having to do with gambling debt. The last one left his office just as his secretary beeped through on the intercom. "I've tried her home number and her cell number, sir, and I can't get her," she said. "I just keep getting her voice mail."

  "Keep trying," Tilman replied, and clicked off.

  His next visitor came only a moment later, walking through the door unannounced. His security chief, as Tilman had expected.

  "Talk to me about Jackson," he demanded. This was the only person in the company from whom Tilman would accept demands.

  "I've got the whole company looking for her," he said. "I've essentially told them all she may have been running from a gambling debt."

  The chief nodded. "That's as may be," he said, "But I don't think we can avoid the fact that this looks a lot like a deliberate attack on the GigaStar program."

  "I know, but we've got to try to keep that impression from spreading. We don't want the NSA or Congress to start raising questions about the program."

  "It would have been better if this could have waited until after Congress approved it."

  Tilman shrugged. "That just wasn’t in the cards."

  ***

  The sun shone down brightly on them as they walked down the street. Kathy had realized she didn’t know any place nearby to suggest as a meeting place, so they went out walking together to find one.

  Mike felt like his whole world was glowing. Shot up house, disrupted schedule, staff irate at the canceled meetings… who cared? He was having one of the finest moments of his life. He'd had breakfast with a beautiful girl and was now taking a walk with her under a lovely morning sky. Things with Kathy were looking more hopeful than he'd ever had any right to hope. Michael was happy. He just enjoyed being near her.

  "OK," Kathy said after the quick call. "I'm meeting her in two hours at that coffee shop over there." She pointed. "Why don’t you and I take a little walk while we wait for her?"

  She smiled at him and held out her hand. Mike looked down at her hand, up at her face, down at her hand again, and then a smile sprang from one ear to the other. He took her hand and they walked.

  Hand in hand they went down the busy street, ignoring the throng of pedestrians around them. Kathy tugged Mike over to look at a purse through the window, and then tugged him away from the store when he wanted to go in and buy it for her, reminding him that they couldn’t use credit cards. He stopped at a newsstand for a quick glance at the top of the fold headlines. They passed a chain clothing store, and Kathy again darted over to the store window to peer at a blouse. Seeing that, Mike would not be denied any longer, and dragged her inside.

  "Oh, come on, we’re supposed to get by on limited cash, I can get by in these clothes."

  "Kathy, it’s not like we have to live for a month on the money. Let’s get you something new to wear, you’ve been in that T-shirt for days."

  In the end, she offered only as much resistance as modesty required. Truth to tell, she did feel grungy. But to avoid feeling singled out, she insisted that Mike buy something new as well.

  Mike barely noticed the wear and tear on his suit, but he was so happy to be buying clothes for Kathy that he gave in and picked some out for himself. He left the store wearing a new set of pleated khaki slacks and a blue shirt, and Kathy went for new jeans and the peach blouse she’d wanted.

  Still holding hands they returned to their walk, killing time waiting for Colleen. Only when they turned around to head back to the coffee shop did Kathy let go of Mike’s hand long enough to look at her watch, emit a small shriek, and announce that they were running late. They picked up the pace.

  ***

  Just in front of their coffee shop, Kathy glanced over her shoulder and froze. "Mike, is that van behind us following us
?"

  Mike looked over his shoulder. "Well, it definitely looks like it’s stopping right here…"

  They picked up their pace, not running yet but walking very fast. Mike turned around to walk backwards for a second and the black van behind them disgorged three men who rushed at them. The sight of them froze for a second like a flash picture in his memory – three anonymous forms coming at him. They didn’t look like the men from his house – no bullet-proof vests, for instance – but they were all dressed mostly in black, and looked just as threatening. Kathy had time to scream before one of them wrapped her in his arms. The second one grabbed her feet and between the two of them they carried her around to the side door of the van. The third tackled Mike, knocking him to the ground.

  He started to struggle, but before he could even throw a punch the man was back off him and running away. Mike rose to his feet and sprinted after him, but he’d hardly taken two steps when his quarry jumped into the van and it sped off. Mike shouted wordlessly, watching the vehicle race away until it turned a corner.

  Then he heard the honks of irate drivers who’d been held up when the van stopped. "So much for concerned citizens," he muttered, and expelled a gargantuan sigh.

  The frustration almost immediately gave way to fear. An icy fist gripped Mike’s heart as he realized he had no idea where to even look for Kathy. He didn’t know who their pursuers were or where to find them. The moment he’d been dreading was now upon him: risk her life by doing nothing, or risk his career by involving the police.

  It didn’t even take him a second. Mike reached into his pocket for the replacement phone he'd gotten from Nathan. He was about to turn it on when a finger tapped his shoulder.

  Still on edge, he spun around violently, surprising the short blonde girl standing behind him.

  Mike blinked. "Oh, um… Sorry, was expecting someone else. Um… can I help you with something?"