by Leslie Wolfe
“Are you planning to live on board?”
“What? No, I am not.” Sadiq smiled. “I have a house here in Lauderdale.”
“You could, you know, it’s beautiful. In any case, I would recommend this spot for you. Only seventy-five feet or so from the parking lot and just a couple of maneuvers to get it aligned with the pier. Leaving is even easier, see?”
“Perfect,” Sadiq confirmed. “Is it possible for me to reserve a parking spot for my car?”
“No, I’m afraid that is not something we offer.”
“What if I signed a lease for the slip for a year, would that change things maybe?”
The harbormaster thought for a few seconds. The man seemed harmless enough, despite his Arabic name. He was old and in obvious pain and getting him a reserved spot would almost be an act of kindness. Definitely it wouldn’t be a security risk for the marina, and it could be an additional income stream. The only question was how much he could charge for it. By the looks of it, however much he wanted.
“It could,” he said. “It requires me to generate a lot of paperwork in support of your request and to order a custom sign and permit number.”
“I understand,” Sadiq said, “and I appreciate you bending the rules for me. Money is not an object.”
“Let’s see...The boat slip for a year comes to $1.55 per foot per day, or $2,185 per month. Let’s say...$2,900, parking included? And you get to pick your spot,” he offered.
Sadiq nodded his approval, placing his right hand on his heart. “Thank you.”
He allowed a discreet sigh of relief to slip between his parched lips. He was ready.
...Chapter 48: Luck
...Thursday, February 11, 6:14PM EST (UTC-5:00 hours)
...Randy Turner’s Residence
...New York, New York
“Oh, no, no, no, no! Fuck! I am so dead!” Randy stared at his computer screen in disbelief. “He is so gonna kill me. Can’t believe this!”
When he had taken the quick job from the wrinkled stranger with scary-cold blue eyes, he had thought he had just hit the jackpot. Five thousand dollars for what appeared to be a whim, five large ones to just keep an eye on some clinic’s system and see if someone hacks into it. Then five grand more when he’d report the hack, as soon as it happened. The man had been adamant, almost threatening. He had to report the hack the moment it happened.
Of course he’d taken the five grand, never really expecting he’d get the rest of the dough. He was smart enough to know this was not legit. Legit people concerned with systems security buy firewalls, not the services from nineteen year olds with expunged records for computer hacking. Nope, dead sure not legit.
So he’d taken the money, hadn’t thought twice about it, and had written a piece of code, a small intrusion detection application that watched for any unauthorized entry into the transplant clinic’s systems. Easy-peasy. He’d dusted off an old laptop he wasn’t using anymore and had it monitor the application. For weeks, nothing. He stopped believing anyone would ever hack in there, and why would they? He also stopped believing he’d ever see the other five large ones; although his client had called every now and then to check the status.
Then one day, the only time he’d taken off with his new girl and spent a cool afternoon and a hot night at her place, in the absence of her parents, it had to happen. Of course, he hadn’t been there to see it happen, and now more than twenty-four hours had passed since the attack. Goddamn shitty luck... He is so gonna kill me!
He stood there, staring at the screen displaying information about the intrusion and weighing his options. Of course, he could just pretend nothing happened and never see his other five grand. Such a waste of some really decent payday, and those were hard to find. Then he could, of course, run the risk that his client would still find out about it, a case in which his life wouldn’t be worth much. The man, who’d said his name was Helms, had made that very clear. The other option was to call him and give him as little information as possible, covering his screw-up. Maybe, just maybe he’d get his other five grand.
With trembling hands, he picked up the cell phone the stranger had left with him and recalled the only number stored in the phone’s memory, chanting in his mind no TMI, no TMI, God, help me, no TMI. He had this character flaw, always giving people too much information and talking too much. Way too much. Well, on this call, he’d better stick to his no TMI strategy.
“Helms here,” the stranger answered.
“Y–yeah, hi, it’s Randy,” he stuttered almost.
“Randy, what do you have for me?”
“You were right, someone did hack into the clinic system. So my job is done,” he blurted, awaiting his prize.
“When?”
Oh, shit! He decided to lie a little, probably it would hurt way less than the truth.
“Just a few hours ago,” he said hesitantly.
“Precisely when?” Helms insisted in a deathly cold voice.
“Um...at precisely 1:17PM Eastern,” he said, conveniently omitting to add the date to this information. He was hoping the man would assume it had been today, not yesterday, and not probe any further. At least the 1:17PM Eastern was accurate.
“Why did you take so long to let me know?”
Tell the truth? Lie? Randy envisioned what the man would do if he heard the real reason for this delay. Lie, definitely lie.
“I wanted to track where the attack was coming from, and that wasn’t easy. It was done by pros,” he said, spitting out one lie after another and getting more and more comfortable in the web of lies he was creating. “The attack was bounced around from China to Singapore, then to Russia, and so on. It took me hours to decrypt it.”
“Do you have the source? Where did it come from?”
Randy hit a few keys and said, “Yes, it came from San Diego. But I can’t tell you more than that. It came from behind an excellent firewall, government grade or something. When do I get my money?”
“Soon,” the man said, then hung up.
“Whew, you son of a bitch, that was close,” Randy said out loud, allowing himself to slide down onto the couch.
...Chapter 49: Dr. Hager
...Thursday, February 11, 6:49PM EST (UTC-5:00 hours)
...Hen of the Wood Restaurant
...Burlington, Vermont
Alex walked through the restaurant’s double wooden doors, grateful to feel some warm air against her flushed, tingly face. The local weather was fairly brutal, and the snow seemed to keep on falling, continuously, with no end in sight.
She stomped her feet near the entrance to shake the snow off her boots. She unzipped her parka and took out her cell. Checking the image on her phone one more time, she consolidated in her mind the key information about the man she was looking for. Dr. Gary William Hager, thirty-nine, light brown hair, green eyes, relatively handsome.
She looked around the restaurant, ignoring the hostess who was trying to seat her.
“Just a second,” Alex said, “I’m looking for a friend.”
There he was, seated at the chef’s counter. Not a very favorable location for a private conversation. Dr. Hager was seated between two other men, but they didn’t seem to know each other. Alex noticed the empty shot glass in front of him. Good.
She waited a little, stalling, thinking of ways to approach him. She fumbled with her gloves, took off her parka and spent forever hanging it on the coat rack in the corner. She checked the restaurant for other familiar faces and the windowed doors behind her for anyone who might have followed her here. There was no one.
The man sitting at Dr. Hager’s left paid his tab and made for the exit. Alex took the opportunity and headed for the empty seat, no clear strategy in mind. She sat next to Hager and smiled.
“Hi,” she started cautiously, “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, you’re fine,” Hager said and turned slightly away from her, giving her a clear signal he wanted to be left alone. He seemed tired and preoccupied.
“I’m
new to town, just passing through,” she said with a light chuckle, “and I was thinking you could recommend a few places to go.”
Hager turned her way and checked her out real quick.
“Listen, I mean no disrespect, but I would rather be by myself.”
“I understand. I also understand you think I might be hitting on you right now,” she said, dropping her voice to almost a whisper and gently touching the man’s forearm, “but I’m not. However, it is in your best interest to behave like I am actually hitting on you and like you are very much into it and share a table. That is if you want to hear what I have to say in private. For me, it will work either way.”
Hager checked her out again, this time with a deep frown above his intense green eyes. He decided to follow her lead and stood.
“There’s a table right there.” He pointed to an empty one in the far corner of the restaurant.
“Perfect,” Alex said, grabbing his arm and flashing her power smile.
“So, what’s this about?” Hager asked as soon as they were seated. “Are you a patient?”
“No, but I’m here about a patient. I need some information about a case you operated on last December. The patient’s name is Melanie Wilton.”
Alex watched him intently as she said Melanie’s name. Blood ran from his face, and his pupils dilated, giving away the pang of fear he must have felt.
“I can’t discuss anything. All patient information is confidential; I’m sure you know that much. You’re wasting your time and mine.”
“Not so fast,” Alex said, smiling and touching Hager’s hand lightly. From a distance, they appeared to be a new couple enjoying their time together. “I have specific questions regarding that procedure, and they’re not about Melanie Wilton’s cholesterol levels. However, I’m prepared to ask my questions with the authorities present. Are you?”
Hager swallowed hard but didn’t say a word.
“Listen,” Alex insisted, “there are many ways this can end terribly wrong for you and only one way it could end well. I suggest you make the right choice.”
He nodded, giving up. His shoulders hunched, and his head hung. He clasped his palms together. “Ask away.”
“All right then, I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can. Who paid for her surgery?”
“I have no idea. It was paid in cash and lots of it. Some for the clinic, some for me personally. I’m sure the surgical team was nicely compensated too. I received a package at my house with my fee, all cash, used twenty bills.”
He was very cooperative, holding nothing back. She continued. “Where did you get the heart?”
“I didn’t. I’m not aware of where the heart came from. It was delivered in the middle of the night by an unmarked chopper. The chopper landed right in the clinic’s backyard, left the container, and took off within minutes. The heart we received was strong, viable, the right donor match and everything, ready to be transplanted. It was delivered on order. We were told to start prepping her even before we had the heart, and we did. We knew the heart would come at a certain time and date, which almost never really happens.”
“How was it packaged?”
“Perfectly packaged, by the book, cold crystalloid ischemic storage with all legal organ transplants, minus the paperwork. Cooler was unmarked. No logos on anything. There was no paperwork and no documented origin for the organ. No source.”
“If you were to venture a guess as to where the heart came from, what would you say?”
“I wouldn’t. It’s really hard to tell. A heart can only survive four to six hours after harvesting, so it had to be close, or relatively close, two-hour chopper flight range, tops. Someone, somewhere, spent a lot of cash to make that heart appear.”
“How about the surgical team?” Alex asked.
“They were strangers to me. I had never met them before. They came in that night, all traveling together in a large SUV, a GMC Yukon, I think. They showed up, they scrubbed, they did an excellent job, and they left before dawn. They were a good surgical team. They seemed to know one another and had experience working together.”
“Any names you can remember?”
“They didn’t say any names.”
“What time was the surgery?”
“It started after midnight and lasted a few hours.”
“Is this normal?”
“It can happen, because the harvested heart can’t survive for too long. Our normal staff wasn’t recalled on duty, like normally happens when surgeries are scheduled. That was strange. There was minimal staff only, the typical core crew for a night without any OR bookings.”
“Where did Melanie come from?”
“Her paperwork said she had transferred from Municipal to recover post-surgery. That’s obviously not true. Somewhere between Municipal and the clinic, the paperwork got fixed. That’s if she ever set foot in Municipal.”
“Why did you do it? Who approached you and offered you the cash?”
Hager hesitated a little. “My boss.”
“Dr. Kanellis?”
“Yes.”
“Did he explain why?”
“He said it was a personal favor to him, of utmost importance to keep quiet; our licenses were at stake, and so on. He was very insistent. I couldn’t say no. After all, we did save a life. Maybe not the right one, or the right priority one, but nevertheless, a life.”
“Did Kanellis mention any names?”
Hager frowned as he was trying to remember.
“At some point, in a related conversation regarding the procedure and the drug regimen to follow, he had a slip of the tongue and mentioned a name. Hems, Helms, Holmes, maybe? Does this mean anything?”
Alex didn’t respond. That Helms guy again. He was everywhere.
“Do you know where I could find the man Kanellis mentioned?”
“No idea.”
“One more question. If this procedure was so hush-hush, why are there records of it in the system?”
“I often ask myself the same thing, even asked Kanellis about it. It was by his decision that we entered anything in the system, but we didn’t enter much. Nothing relevant, anyway. No names, no insurance information, not even Mrs. Wilton’s social. In retrospect, I think we shouldn’t have entered anything. What purpose does that system entry serve?”
Excellent question, Dr. Hager, Alex thought.
“If someone wanted to delete that record, would they be able to?”
“I’m sure they would, no doubt. We’ve had duplicate entries and errors in the system cleaned up before.”
“OK, that’s all I needed from you, Dr. Hager. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“What’s gonna happen to me?” Hager asked, looking up for the first time since she’d started asking her questions.
“Hopefully, nothing. Keep this conversation a secret, and I promise I’ll do the same.”
“Who are you?”
“Just someone you won’t ever see again, Dr. Hager. And now, just in case someone was watching us have this little talk, I will be providing you with a good cover story. Just remember I hit on you at first,” Alex said and winked. She stood up abruptly, slapped Hager across the face, and yelled, “You bastard!”
Then she rushed toward the exit, grabbed her parka on the way out, and was gone in seconds.
To anyone watching, Dr. Hager must have said something very wrong to this young lady. His chances were not looking too good with her. A couple of patrons commented on the event, stifling their laughs.
...Chapter 50: Payday
...Friday, February 12, 11:02AM EST (UTC-5:00 hours)
...Randy Turner’s Residence
...New York, New York
A rapid tap on the door woke him. He groaned, the typical groan of a nineteen year old when he has to wake up before noon. He turned on the other side and mumbled.
“Who is it?”
The tap reoccurred. Randy tried harder this time, getting out of bed and dragging his feet to the door
.
“Yeah?”
A voice from behind the door said quietly, “I have your money.”
Randy took the door chain off in a second and welcomed the man in.
“Come on in, man, I am so happy to see you.”
Helms walked in, looking around.
Randy grabbed a pile of clothing scattered on the old, beat-down couch and made room for his guest. The air was stale and smelled of dirty laundry, but Randy didn’t smell that anymore. However, any time his friends dropped by, they bitched about it, so Randy opened the sliding window to let in some fresh air. The frazzled window sheers waved in the brisk winter breeze.
“Here, sit down. Shit, man, am I glad to see you!”
Helms continued to stand. He patted the kid on his back. Helms looked scary, just as scary as the day he had met him. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Cold as ice, the man’s blue eyes gave him the willies. He hated how this guy skeezed him out.
“Where can we speak privately?”
Randy hesitated for a second, confused by a question with an obvious answer.
“Right here. There’s no one else here.”
“Good. You did good on the assignment, kid, show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Show me how you saw the intrusion. Can you figure out what that person saw in the system?”
Randy went to his old laptop and demonstrated, flipping through screens fast, so that Helms wouldn’t catch the date on the intrusion report.
“Yeah. See? This is the app I’m running; it shows the hack alert here, on this screen.” He displayed the report screen for half a second. “Then in here you see what he saw.”
“He looked at multiple records?”
“Yeah, the dude checked a few of them out. Checked this one fairly thoroughly, then looked around some more.”
“Which one did he check first?”
“This one, umm...Melanie Wilton. But there ain’t any info that makes any sense in there. The other records have info in them, see? They have dates, names, activity, socials, stuff like that. This one has nothing, just a name and some codes and acronyms.”