The Hidden Truth: A Science Fiction Techno-Thriller

by Hans G. Schantz

  Monday night, we went almost into Knoxville, and we bought dinner at the drive-through of a Zaxby’s. I parked in the back of the lot, so we could eat our chicken fingers and do our web browsing. I got the Pringles can antenna out. “Point it at that hotel,” Amit said. I aimed it carefully at the hotel across the street. “The hotel manager never changed the default passwords securing the Wi-Fi access system,” Amit explained. He used an administrator login to get access to the network, fired up a web browser with Tor, and we were online. Amit liked to use a search engine called DuckDuckGo. The site was directly accessible via Tor, and promised to protect user privacy.

  We started searching on Xueshu Quan, himself. We found a very minimalist website with the name and address, but it had no details. There wasn’t much else available on him. His address turned out to be a mailbox store in Arlington. His phone number came up as unlisted in a reverse search. The name translated from Chinese to English as something like “Academic Circle.” Maybe it was an organization instead of an individual?

  We had the opposite problem with Kenneth Norton. There were many Kenneth Nortons, mostly dentists, doctors, and other professionals advertising online. The address in Washington, DC, seemed to be associated with someone else, and the District of Columbia did not have property records for us to search for any details on when a Kenneth Norton might have lived there. The lack of a zip code in his address suggested pre-1963, although Norton might possibly have continued using an older stamp on more recently acquired books after that. My guess was he acquired the book not long after it was published in 1949.

  We ran right down the Xueshu Quan list, downloading scans of the books from Omnitia. Then, we tried a couple of other sites – Project Gutenberg, and a few libraries that had scans of old books online. We also searched online card catalogs for libraries with copies of the Xueshu Quan books. We found a few hits at the University of Tennessee and at Georgia Tech. By then, we’d spent nearly an hour searching, and we weren’t getting anywhere. We packed up and took our digital booty home for analysis.

  * * *

  The next morning at Kudzu Joe’s, we reviewed what we’d found. The scans we downloaded of the Xueshu Quan books were not terribly helpful. They’d clearly been scrubbed of any relevant mentions of Heaviside or bouncing waves. There were a couple of hints here and there that a deletion had been made, but of course, any relevant information was gone.

  On the plus side I was now prepared with an untraceable credit card from Dad. It was the same gift card Dad got from Mr. Burleson. Since Mr. Burleson had paid cash, it should be untraceable. We realized in all our scanning that we hadn’t done a good job looking through used bookstores online. The plan for our next, and hopefully final, wardriving excursion would be to complete a search of used bookstores and to make the VOIP call to Nicole to apologize for standing her up. I thought I owed it to her. We headed out again that evening.

  * * *

  “This is one of my favorite spots for online access,” Amit explained. We were in the parking lot of a convenience store overlooking an interstate exit. We had a good line-of-sight to the far side of the highway where there were three truck stops, a restaurant, and a hotel. “They all have Wi-Fi, and with the Pringles Can antenna your father made, I can hit about six different wireless networks from here. I was over at that truck stop for lunch last month, and they gave me the password for the ‘secured’ wireless they provide for truckers who are overnighting in their lot. Let’s see if they’ve changed the password yet.”

  He set up the Pringles can antenna on the dash of the car and tweaked the orientation to maximize the signal strength. “Password’s good; we’re connected.” He started up Tor to route our Internet traffic through a complicated network of relays, making it difficult for anyone to trace our traffic back to a physical location. Then, he fired up the VOIP program and handed me a headset. He fired up a web browser with Tor, and we were online. I called Nicole’s number through the web interface.

  “Hello,” a man’s voice answered.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m calling for Nicole. Do I have the right number?”

  Amit had a very concerned look on his face, I saw his hand move to the keyboard and hover.

  “This is Nicole’s phone,” the man said. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  Amit was frantically shaking his head no.

  “I’ll call again later, thanks!” I could hear the man begin to bark something as Amit cancelled the connection.

  “This is not good, dude,” he said.

  “Can they trace us?”

  “Not likely,” Amit assured me. “Even if they did get the number, all it will do is lead them to the credit card. But Mr. Burleson paid cash, so they shouldn’t be able to trace it. Let’s finish what we came here for.”

  “Let me try one more call,” I insisted.

  “To Nicole? You’re crazy…” Amit began.

  “No, to the bookstore where she worked,” I explained.

  “Oh,” Amit said. “Be ready to hang up quickly if it gets weird.” He looked up the number and dialed it for me.

  “Thank you for calling Half Price Books,” a cheery woman answered.

  “Hello,” I said. “I was wondering if I could speak with Nicole. I haven’t been able to get hold of her on her cell. Is she there?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Oh, honey,” the lady said. “I’m so sorry, but Nicole is dead.” Amit and I stared blankly at each other. “Hello?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I hadn’t heard. Do you know what happened?”

  “The police say she was killed by someone she was seeing. Someone named ‘Dan.’” Amit looked as dumbfounded as I felt. “Do you know this Dan?” the lady asked.

  “No ma’am, sorry. I hardly knew Nicole. I just met her once in the store. You probably knew her much better than I did. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Oh, bless your heart,” she said. “My, it’s just been so crazy here losing Nicole and Mr. Rodriguez, too.”

  My jaw was running out of room to drop any further.

  “He was her… manager?” I asked.

  “Well not actually her manager, no,” she explained. “He was our Acquisitions Manager. Handled all our book purchases, things like that.”

  “And what happened to him?”

  “Hit and run accident. Right outside the store. They were gone before anyone saw. It was horrible,” she seemed upset.

  “I’m so sorry to trouble you,” I needed to finish this. “Thanks for your time.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Sorry about Nicole.”

  Amit hung up the phone.

  Sorry about Nicole. Yeah. Me, too. I’d good as killed her.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Amit said. He was getting way too proficient at reading me. “You didn’t kill her. Your electromagnetic villains did. It’s them. And if it weren’t Nicole, it would have been someone else. Maybe you or me.”

  They were on to me. “They’re looking for ‘Dan.’ They’re saying I killed her.” I tried to keep calm, but I was feeling overwhelmed by it all.

  “They must have interrogated her first,” Amit said softly. “She must have told them all about you, including that name you called yourself.”

  “That’s so cold,” I was still in shock. “She told them everything she knew, and they killed her, anyway.”

  Amit searched on “Houston, Nicole, Murder.” He turned up some local news reporting. She’d been found strangled in her apartment. Police suspected foul play. They were seeking a boyfriend, Dan, for questioning. There was a sketch. It looked a bit like me, but was off. Anyone with information should call the Houston Police Department.

  “They don’t have video,” Amit said. “They should have had surveillance video of you buying the book.”

  “I didn’t pay at the register. I handed her cash. She took care of it and brought it back to me.” This couldn’t be allowed to stand. It had to be this Xueshu Quan. Was he the electroma
gnetic villain?

  “You want to call it a night?” Amit asked.

  “Let’s finish what we came out here to do.”

  Amit nodded in agreement.

  We found and downloaded some more scans of Lodge’s Modern Views of Electricity from various sources, and then began working our way through online booksellers looking for copies. A helicopter buzzed overhead. That was odd. We don’t get many helicopters flying around this far out of the big city. I looked around in time to see a couple of state troopers lined up making a left-hand turn to cross back under the interstate – away from us and toward the truck stop. “Shut it down,” I exclaimed, as I yanked the antenna off the dash and pulled the Wi-Fi dongle out of the computer. Amit did a hard power off on the laptop.

  “What’s going on?” Amit asked.

  As I described the helicopter and began explaining about the state troopers to Amit, an explosion of flashing blue lights burst out around the truck stop on the far side of the interstate – the same truck stop whose wireless access we had been using moments before.

  “Let’s go!” Amit fumbled for his keys.

  “No!” I grabbed his hand. “Too obvious. We’d just draw attention to ourselves. It could be a complete coincidence.” I thought for a moment. We’d let ourselves get cornered. The roads on this side of the interstate were all dead ends that terminated in a wilderness area. We had to go past the police barricade. But, not just yet. “Let’s go into the convenience store, buy some Cokes, and head home.”

  We got out of Amit’s car, and got our Cokes. As we were checking out at the cash register, I had an inspiration. “I’ll take a pack of Marlboros.”

  The clerk eyed me suspiciously. “You got an ID?”

  I made a show of searching my pockets. “Nope. Must have left it at home.”

  “You should stay away from that shit, kid,” the clerk advised me. “It’ll rot out your lungs.”

  Amit and I departed. He looked at me incredulously. Then I saw the light bulb flash on. “Oh, I get it. If anyone saw us sitting here for the last hour…”

  “…the clerk is going to tell them we’re a couple of underage losers stealing a smoke in the parking lot,” I finished the thought.

  “Better to look like we’re guilty of something else than draw attention to what we were really doing,” Amit approved. “Slick. Now let’s get out of here before they run out of innocent truckers to hassle.”

  I seconded Amit’s motion. Our best bet was to get out now before they spread a wider net. The on ramp to the interstate was blocked by a state trooper. We had to drive right past the truck stop to get home. A couple of sheriff’s deputies had the truck stop blocked off, and they weren’t letting anyone in or out. We drove up slowly trying our best to remain calm and unconcerned. They waved us on past. I could see some state troopers’ vehicles and trucks. We didn’t pause to get a better look. As we were driving away, I heard more helicopters flying overhead. It was clearly something major. Perhaps it was all a coincidence – some big drug bust or something else going down? Could they truly be after us? Amit drove me home. It was late, so I didn’t wake up my parents to tell them what happened. After all, it could have been a coincidence.

  It wasn’t.

  The next morning, Dad woke me up early to see the news. Homeland Security and the Tennessee State Troopers had “thwarted a cyber-terror attack” that had been underway from the truck stop. According to the reports, the terrorists had been hacking into critical infrastructure at TVA’s Cove Creek nuclear plant. Only Homeland Security’s quick and decisive action had prevented a potentially dangerous situation. Unfortunately, the terrorists were still at large. The terrorists were likely using directional antennas to exploit unsecured wireless networks and even hacking into secured networks. One morning show host showed a picture of a Pringles can antenna – identical to what we were using. Tennesseans were advised to be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior. I couldn’t imagine there actually being “cyber-terrorists” who just happened to be at the same truck stop at the same time. It had to be a cover story for an effort to find Amit and me.

  Dad insisted on collecting everyone’s cell phone and placing them in the microwave. “It makes a great Faraday cage, so there’s no chance anyone can turn them on remotely and listen to us.” He called Mom and me to the dining room to discuss the situation. I told them about Nicole and about what happened at the truck stop. He chewed me out for not waking him up last night. “They’re after you and Amit,” Dad concluded. “It can’t be a coincidence, but it makes no sense to me why anything you’ve done would trigger such an extreme reaction.”

  “You’re always saying actions have consequences,” Mom pointed out to Dad. “You two thought you found some kind of dangerous conspiracy and just had to keep poking at it until the conspirators woke up. Well, now, they have. People have already been killed. That’s water under the bridge, now. How do we protect ourselves?”

  “We go about our daily routine,” Dad said. “Don’t draw unnecessary attention, but we need to get ready.” He turned to me. “Take the DVD burner and back up all the data you and Amit collected. Make six copies – that ought to be plenty. Put a working copy on a flash drive. We’ll risk hiding it here. Gather up any hard copies as well as the laptops, wireless dongles, and antennas. Make sure all your other files are backed up, too.”

  He turned to Mom. “Backup all your files. I’ll be doing the same. Let’s get any family records and documents together. I was going to be seeing Rob this morning anyway. I’ll run everything up to his place for safekeeping. We need to talk with a lawyer. I’ll call Greg Parsons in Knoxville to see if he can connect us with someone appropriate. I’ll try to set up a meeting for this afternoon.” Finally, Dad asked me, “When will you be seeing Amit?”

  “I was supposed to be seeing him at Kudzu Joe’s this morning.”

  “Good. Get Amit to do the same – back everything up and gather all the equipment. I’ll probably want to swing by the hotel later this morning. We’ll need to speak with him and his folks. You both know not to say anything and not to text or call each other regarding this, get it?”

  “Got it,” I replied.

  “Good,” he said.

  We all got to work. A few days ago, I thought it ludicrous to think that all communications were being monitored. Now, I wasn’t nearly so confident. How could Amit and I have been monitored after all our precautions? I got my backups and equipment to Dad. He cautioned me to leave my cell phone at home so I couldn’t be easily traced. Then, he left for Uncle Rob’s with our backups and instructed me to get Amit back to the hotel – he’d meet us there. I headed off to Kudzu Joe’s just a bit late.

  * * *

  “I was beginning to think they got you,” Amit said softly.

  He was already a couple of steps ahead of me. The state troopers had stopped by the hotel late last night looking for suspicious out-of-town characters who might be involved in cyber-terror. He’d been up a good part of the night backing up the data and caching his equipment. He assured me it wouldn’t be found. “A hotel is a big place with lots of nooks and crannies.” He’d even had time to look at what we’d downloaded. Let’s go back to the hotel. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

  When we got back to the hotel, I asked him if he’d told his folks about last night’s events.

  “I didn’t get back until late, and they’ve been too busy with the morning rush for me to tell them anything,” he explained. “I think I’ll wait for your dad to show up. My father sometimes doesn’t understand what I do. He’s proud of what I’ve accomplished, but if there’s trouble, he’s likely to blame me, even if it actually isn’t my fault. He’s less likely to blow up at me if your father is around. Your father can help explain everything. He’ll listen to your father.”

  Amit’s father had finished up with a guest, so Amit headed to the reception desk. I followed along for moral support.

  “Dad, I may have gotten into some trouble
last night,” Amit confided to his father. “I need to talk with you about it. May we take over the Smoky Mountain conference room? It might take an hour or so.”

  “Sure, the room is open, but what is this trouble?”

  “My father will be here in a little bit, Mr. Patel,” I explained. “It’s a potential legal problem we hadn’t realized might be an issue. He needs to check with a lawyer and get some questions answered. He asked me to arrange a meeting with you later this morning to discuss it in private.”

  Amit’s father seemed both concerned and curious. Another guest approached the desk, cutting short his desire to interrogate us further. “Okay, I’ll see you back there in a bit.”

  Amit led me to a storage room off the laundry. He moved some jugs of cleaning supplies and unscrewed an air vent cover. Behind was a small compartment with a laptop and the Pringles can antenna. Amit pulled out a flash drive. “All the scans and data are on here,” he explained. “Here’s a copy for you.” He handed me one of the flash drives. “I have a smaller hidey hole near where I work. I normally keep the flash drive there. For now though, I’m keeping everything in here.” He reached in and pulled out a couple of papers – a printout of the crucial pages from Lodge’s Modern Views of Electricity.

  Amit looked thoughtfully at the pages. “Why is this so important that someone wants to kill Nicole and her boss and call our searches ‘cyber-terror?’”

  “Beats me,” I confessed. “We need to figure out what was here on these pages before they altered it. Let’s take it up to show our fathers. We can shred it when we’re done.”

  * * *

  Amit’s father led mine into the conference room. “What’s this trouble our boys are in?” Mr. Patel asked. We told him the whole story and showed them both the suspicious pages from the Lodge book.