Right after Eric Martin left, there was a meeting in which they set up seven teams to tackle finding the signal's origin. After the meeting, Luke spent the majority of the night and morning comparing DNS tables and laboriously tracing each jump of the signal.
Luke was falling asleep, only halfway paying attention to his work, when he heard a commotion at the other end of the room. He sat up, straining to make out the excited voices. Apparently, one of the engineers claimed he had located the source of the signal, and was now surrounded by a group of people arguing and trying to take over the console.
Just like earlier that night, seemingly out of nowhere the same deep, commanding voice suddenly spoke, breaking up the small group.
"Give me a full report of your findings on the central screen. Now."
Of course, it's Eric. How does he do that? It's like he's lurking around, just waiting for the best time to show up and freak everyone out.
The engineer stumbled over his desk chair and punched in the keys to transmit his display to the huge, multi-directional screen in the center of the room. On the screen, there were dozens of charts listing all the different routes that were made by the source connection. The result was a single IP address with a street address of 2432 Birch Street, Asheville, NC.
There was also a map on the corner of the screen, showing a live satellite feed of the house. It was a turn of the century farmhouse on several acres just outside the main part of town. There appeared to be a couple other buildings on the property, but they were small, most likely storage buildings. An old, rusty pickup sat in the driveway near the house.
The engineer roughly summarized the results. "It appears to have originated from a farmhouse just outside a small town in North Carolina. The names on the property tax records are Joe and Ellie Marshall, born March 2, 1929 and June 30, 1930, respectively."
Eric stood back impassively. He stared at the screen, unimpressed with the findings.
"Are you going to tell me that an 80-something-year-old couple is responsible for breaking past all our security and then somehow downloading our entire mainframe?"
The engineer shrunk back. "No…it's just, well… They are the ones that own the property where the signal originated."
The disapproval was obvious on Eric's face.
I'm really glad I'm not that guy.
"Well, I'm not interested in who owns the property. I want to know who is responsible for this breach. I want to know everything about this situation, including who had access to any kind of internet or network connection anywhere near that house. And I want the information yesterday! Get to work, people. We have to get this under control!"
His voice was urgent, but he still maintained complete control of his emotions. Eric seemed to be fully confident that it was only a matter of time until the perpetrator was caught.
Until then, he would leave no stone unturned. Luke felt sympathy for the poor soul who decided to hack into Eric's mainframe. It would not end well for him; that was certain.
***
A short time later, a thick file was laid on Eric's desk. He methodically scanned through the papers. Apparently, the elderly couple had lived in the house since 1947. The property consisted of the farmhouse, a barn near the back of the property, a shed near the house, and a small cottage near the front of the lot. There was no information about who might be living in the cottage. It was also in the Marshall's name.
He had ruled out, obviously, that the elderly couple could be responsible for the breach. Therefore, it must be someone living on the property that had access to the internet account. A cash deposit of $500 was made in the Marshall's account monthly, which he assumed was rent for the cottage.
He glanced over the rest of the information, but found little that was useful. All utilities, telephones, internet and TV were in the Marshall's name. Half of the utilities were diverted to the cottage, so it appeared someone was living there, although that person's name was nowhere to be found.
Eric sat back in his chair, considering the situation. He knew he could send a team to go find all the information he required, but he was becoming more and more intrigued by this mystery person. How could some insignificant individual hack into his impenetrable network and then just walk away with the entire contents of his servers? This situation warranted his personal involvement.
It's time to take a trip to Asheville.
He reached forward and hit the intercom button, paging his secretary.
"Alert Bravo Team and have them waiting for me at the front of the campus in thirty minutes," he told her. "And have my plane prepped. I'm going to need it."
***
As Alice veered her bike to the main highway, her headache returned.
I guess it wouldn't hurt to get one last cup of coffee before I go.
It was unreasonable… she knew that. But she had no idea when she would be able to return to Asheville, and she was really going to miss that coffee.
A few minutes later, she pulled into a parking spot on the side of the coffee shop and went inside.
The barista smiled warmly and nodded a greeting to her.
"The usual?"
"Yep!" Alice replied. "Oh, but make it to-go this time. I have to run today."
He smiled in agreement and expertly prepared her beverage. The barista handed her the coffee, and she took one last look around the quaint shop as she paid him. Alice bid him farewell and pushed the door to the café open. As she turned to walk to her bike, she ran headlong into a man heading in the opposite direction. By some miracle, she managed not to spill her coffee all over him. She looked up into his face to offer an apology for her clumsiness, but the words fell short of her lips.
Alice found herself staring into the face of a man her mind knew very well... Eric Martin.
Even though she had never seen this man in real life, her mind was buzzing with his life history: where he went to school, his entire career, all of his personal information. She even knew his parents' names and where they grew up. While the media never seemed to have accurate pictures of him, there were enough in the database she "downloaded" for her to know beyond any doubt that this was the man standing in front of her.
It took every ounce of willpower that she had not to run screaming in the other direction. She would have applauded her bravery in this circumstance; however, she was all too keenly aware that the reason she was not running was that she was far too afraid to move.
If Eric Martin was standing here, on the streets of Asheville, there could only be one reason. They had somehow already traced the connection. Yet, as he looked down at her with his face of surprise and annoyance, there was not even a hint of recognition. In fact, he would not have even given her a second glance, had she not physically run into him. He looked down at her, distastefully. She couldn't help but notice that he was almost a full foot taller than she was.
"Uh, I-I'm sorry. I was not paying attention… Please, excuse me." She muttered.
Her hands were shaking as she spoke. Looking beyond him, she saw that he had an entourage as well. There were five men in suits standing a few feet from him. All of them looked quite capable of defending themselves. As she glanced over their faces, her mind instantly began pulling up dossiers on each of them. She shook her head and tried to think of something else.
Eric seemed to consider something, then he finally spoke. "No matter. No harm done. I do have a question for you though, if you have a moment."
Great. Of all the things that I could be doing, here I am, having a nice chat with the most powerful man in the world, who I am currently trying to run away from. It doesn't help that he's extremely handsome and intimidating.
"Uh…sure," she managed to say.
His voice was deep and seemed to resonate through her. "I'm not from around here, and I was hoping to get some information on one of the residents. You see, I am trying to find a relative of mine who I lost contact with, and I think some people here might know where I can find him. Have you li
ved here long?"
"My whole life," she said.
"Wonderful. Then you must know the Marshalls?"
Did she know them? If he only knew the truth!
"I've met them a few times."
"Oh! Then, by any chance, do you know who is renting the cottage they have? I spoke with someone who thought he had moved to that address a few years back."
Alice inwardly smiled, despite her nerves. Of course, Eric would assume the hacker was male. Some men were so predictable.
Well, let's use this to our advantage, shall we?
"Oh, you must mean Steven? He's lived there for a while now. He works for a computer shop on the other side of town. Tech Mart, I think."
Eric gave her a winning smile. "Yes, Steven. Excellent news!"
Alice did her best to look convincing. She looked down at her watch and continued, "As a matter of fact, he happens to work on the weekends. If you head over there within the next hour, you can probably still catch him before his shift ends."
Eric smiled again. He seemed genuinely pleased at her assistance.
"You've been so very helpful. Thank you." It was a dismissal. He turned back to the huddle of men behind him and they began speaking rapidly to each other, so low she could not make out the words.
Alice's heart seemed as though it would hammer through her chest.
It was worth it, if it bought me more time. I just hope it's enough.
She walked as quickly as she could without drawing unwanted attention, tossed her coffee into the nearest trash, threw herself onto the bike, and drove away without looking back.
***
What a strange, young girl.
Eric was annoyed at her carelessness. She seemed to be nervous, but perhaps that was because she had been so clumsy. Upon arriving in Asheville, they hoped to get as much information as possible before they made their move.
Fortune smiles on us...less than fifteen minutes here, and we just happen to run into someone who knows exactly what we want to know... Slightly ironic, but most fortunate.
His men had looked up Tech Mart and gotten the address instantly. Time was of the essence. The sooner they apprehended Steven, the less chance there was for him to become more of a nuisance than he already was.
Eric motioned to his men. In one fluid movement, they were seated in the sleek, black SUV, awaiting his command.
"Let's wrap this up."
They drove in a still silence across town to Tech Mart. After they pulled up to the curb outside the faded building, Eric stepped out onto the sidewalk.
It's almost disappointing. I expected more from someone with the ability to hack through our defenses.
He distastefully stood back as his men opened the front door and went through. It was a typical computer repair shop; computer parts littered everywhere. He walked briskly to the back counter and rang the small, brass bell laying upon it. His men lingered near the entrance, ready for anything.
A few moments later, a balding, middle-aged man appeared at the counter. "May I help you?"
"Is Steven working here today?" Eric asked.
"Steven? Steven who? There's no one here by that name."
Eric was completely taken back. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Um…Yeah. We only have four employees here. Come to think of it, no one by that name has ever worked here."
Eric stared ahead, rapidly collecting his thoughts. He could only think of one motive for someone to mislead a complete stranger. If that person knew the truth.
Who was that girl?
Acting on a hunch, Eric casually leaned forward and asked, "This might be a long shot, but do you happen to know a young woman with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses, that frequents Joe’s Java Café? She may or may not have connections to your business."
The man's brows furrowed. "You know, that sounds a lot like that Alice McArthur. She works for Computer Techs & More. Brilliant girl. She hasn't worked there long, but she turned that company around. They are one of the most successful computer companies in town."
Already knowing the answer, Eric asked anyway, "Do you know where I can find her?"
The man thought for a moment, and then replied, "I think she lives over there on the Marshall property."
Chapter 4
Alice had reached the lake house by five thirty that evening. The very sight of it filled her with relief.
It was an ideal place to seek refuge. While the house was in her name now, there was no digital record of that information. There were not enough houses in the area to necessitate that level of "fancy organization," as the locals explained. All of the property records were kept as paper copies in the county seat. It was probably only a matter of time before they were forced to convert to an electronic database. For now, Alice was grateful for the lack of technology.
Nothing to trace me here…
From the outside, the house itself appeared to be nothing but ordinary. It was a quaint, two-story log cabin on the south side of the lake. Inside, it was another story. It featured an oversized kitchen, a Jacuzzi, and an extensive library. Given its remote location, the house was the most elaborately furnished building within fifty miles. It might have been a vacation home, but Alice's parents were never ones to do anything half-heartedly.
She went inside the now musty cabin, carrying the few things she brought. Aside from a layer of dust on most things, the place was clean and tidy.
Just like we left it.
Alice's stomach growled, distracting her from her reflections. The cabinets were, of course, empty.
I bet the Pit Stop is still open. I'll go there and stock up on a few things.
She wasn't sure if it was the clear fresh air, or just escaping from the "real world," but Alice felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. A smile found its way onto her face as she leapt on her bike, speeding away from the cabin.
The roads near the lake, like all roads in the area, were extremely curvy and surrounded by dense forest. It gave one a sense of isolation, which Alice had always loved.
Nothing to distract from the quiet stillness of being close to nature.
Alice began to relax, the cool air whipping on her face as she sped down the winding roads. She had travelled several miles, driving a little too fast, when she saw it.
Her tires spun as she made her way around a bend in the trees. Trees rustled suspiciously near the road in front of her, and she didn't have time to wonder why as a huge deer darted from the undergrowth. It seemed as if time itself slowed, and she was looking expertly through some sort of dream-like lens.
The deer leapt out across the road. Alice knew that she would hit it if she continued at her current rate and direction. Her mind instantly calculated the parameters of the situation. The speed and weight of the deer, the speed of her motorcycle, her current path, the momentum of her bike, and the time before impact.
Slowing down three miles and shifting thirty degrees to the right will produce successful impact prevention.
Her reflexes were instantaneous. She gingerly applied the brakes, and expertly guided her bike in the direction her mind had decided would be acceptable.
Then, the spell broke and it seemed that time had again resumed its normal pace. Alice missed the deer by mere inches. She slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Her heart was pounding with fear and excitement. She was of breath and stood, hunched over, with her hands on her knees.
What. Was. That?
It was as if a computer had taken over her mind during that small window of time, producing unexplainable and unimaginable results. There was no possible way a normal person could have reacted that quickly.
As her heart rate began to slow, she looked up into the sky.
It's getting late. What time is it? I should hurry...
Alice's normal thought pattern was interrupted, once again hijacked by the new part of her brain.
Given the angle of the sunlight and the length of the shadows, there are
forty-three minutes left until sunset.
Her inner self wanted to panic, to run to the nearest hospital for a cat-scan, anything to understand what was happening... but she knew she couldn't risk it.
Get a hold of yourself, Alice. Just lay low for a few days until everything calms down...then you can figure out what's going on.
If I leave now, I'll have just enough time to run by the store and make it home before dark... I definitely don't need to run into any more deer.
As she predicted, Alice pulled into the Pit Stop a short while later.
That title is more accurate than they could have imagined.
Aside from being dingy and badly in need of repair, most people that shopped there only did so because there was no alternative. It was one of the only stores in the vicinity, and the only gas station in town.
The employees paid little attention to her. She was just another person passing through on her way to somewhere else. She entered the store and picked out enough food to last at least a few days.
She set her items on the counter and waited for the clerk to ring her up. Glancing over them, she pulled out the exact change from her wallet long before the old man gave her the total.
Hey, that's Barney. I can't believe he's still here. He was working here when I was just a kid.
She pushed her cash forward on the counter as he packed away the last item. He wordlessly took the money and mumbled, "Have a nice day," as she walked out the door.
Same old Barney.
Alice hopped on her bike and hurried back to the cabin, arriving just as the sun was setting.
Perfect timing.
The sun cast deep reds and oranges across the surface of the lake. It was breathtaking. It made her regret staying away for so long.
Ironic that when I do finally return, it's under these circumstances.
Mind Trace Page 3