by Robert Stohn
They finally arrived at their destination at the Riverside Clay Tennis Association. It wasn’t the strangest place they could go, but it certainly was out of character for old Don Cicerone. They got out of the car and walked towards a grassy tree-lined area by the water.
“Follow me,” he said again in that thick accent.
Jonathan followed the 400-plus pound Italian thug as he led him through the serene park to a tree where two men stood amidst people lying in the sun trying to soak up the rays and catch a tan.
“Thanks for coming,” said Don Cicerone.
“Interesting place to meet. It’s been a long time,” replied Jonathan.
“You look like shit.”
Jonathan ran his hand through his hair. “It was long night,” he said meekly.
“You look worse than shit, actually. What happened to you?”
Jonathan wasn’t sure how to answer that question. What happened to me? Life happened to me. He had been battered and bruised by a string of experiences that left him emotionally and financially broke, battered, and bruised. “It’s been a bad year… a bad couple of years”
“Well, you look like a shmuck. Clean yourself up kid. You’ve got some work to do.”
“What’s the job?” Jonathan asked.
“The most important job of your life.”
Jonathan’s interest was peaked. “Yeah?”
“I need you to locate something for me.”
“Got a name?”
“It’s not a person. It’s a USB cipher drive. A small four-inch by one-inch square.” As the Don spoke, Jonathan surveyed the sweaty monstrosity in front of him. It was like speaking to two people at once.
“You want me to find a hard drive for you?”
“Not just any drive you idiot,” he said. He slicked his jet-black hair back with one of his meaty hands. Jonathan noticed the excessive gold rings and bracelets on his hand that jingled as he moved it. “This drive has something very valuable to me on it. Let’s just say it’s a special kind of drive. Anyways, I need you to find it.”
“Okay.”
“Just okay? This is important. Don’t you have any questions for me?”
Jonathan Grace wasn’t used to locating a thing; he specialized in finding people. He used to be one of the best detectives out there, but this task was different. He stared at Don Cicerone as he stood there before him. His mane of chest hairs protruding from the black V-neck shirt he had on.
“What’s on the drive?”
“Something very important to me,” barked Don Cicerone. He started getting agitated with Jonathan.
“Okay, but look…”
“No look kid. This is very important. That drive belongs to me and I need it back; I need it back badly. It was taken from me and if I don’t get it back someone is going to pay. If you can’t do the job, I’ll find someone else who can. Just say the word, kid.”
“Okay. I’ll find your drive Don Cicerone.”
“You better kid.” He handed Jonathan a yellow envelope stuffed with one hundred dollar bills. “Here’s a 100k upfront. Should cover all your travel costs along with a sizable retainer.”
Jonathan stared at the enveloped and leafed through the cash inside of it. It was more money than he had seen in over a year. “Thanks.”
“One million dollars when you return the cipher drive to me safe and sound, along with the person who had it.”
Jonathan’s mouth just about dropped to the floor. He tried not to show how impressed he was, and worried that the job was over his head, but he didn’t dare say that. He looked down at the black Italian loafers Don Cicerone was wearing and got lost in a train of thought for a moment.
“Hey kid, you with me?” said Don Cicerone in an effort to ensure that he was heard.
“Yes. Yeah… I mean it’s a deal.”
“Good. All of the info is on this.” Don Cicerone handed him a silver USB stick. “If you have any questions, you can always call Vinnie over here,” he said, nodding to the driver who picked him up.
“Okay, got it.”
“And, kid.”
“Yeah?”
“You screw me over and it’s two bullets to the head.”
“I’ll find it. I assure you that I’ll find it.” Jonathan sounded much more confident this time around. He had a renewed sense of spirit. This was his big chance – his big opportunity to pull his life back together and get back to some semblance of normalcy. He couldn’t screw this up. He wouldn’t screw this up.
“That’s more like it. I expect you to check in with me often. At least a couple times a week and let me know your progress. I wanna know where we’re at with this at all times. That drive… that muthafuckin’ cipher drive is the most important thing in my life; it’s more important than my wife and my unborn children. You understand me?”
“Perfectly. Loud and clear, Don Cicerone. Sir.”
“Good. Vinnie, give the kid a lift back to the park.”
“Done.”
Chapter 3
Jonathan rubbed his eyes and stared at the computer screen in front of him, then at the silver USB stick in his hands. The large yellow envelope of cash lay on his desk next to him. He eyed it with suspicion. He knew what kind of trouble that money could bring to his life. He knew just what type of hijinks he could get into if he allowed himself. But, he knew he couldn’t. This was Don Cicerone, and he couldn’t mess around. He had to get started on the job and get him back the information he was looking for. He knew he couldn’t let him down.
The thin silver USB stick felt so innocent in his hands. He imagined it would be quite like the black USB cipher drive he was after, except that one seemed a bit more ominous. That black USB cipher drive had something on it worth a lot of money to a very powerful man. Jonathan could only imagine what it was, and to what extent the repudiated mob boss would be willing to go to in order to get it back. He felt the brushed aluminum of the silver USB stick as he slipped it into his sleek laptop. An orange light emitted rapidly as the data was accessed and a folder was launched containing three files: one picture, a voice recording, and a document.
He clicked on the first file – the image. It opened up to reveal a black and white photo of a tall blonde woman taken with what appeared to be a high-zoom lens. Dr. Jennifer M. Cobalt was the name at bottom of the photo. He studied the image carefully. He studied the look on the woman’s face. Her delicate white complexion and high cheekbones drew him in. The woman in the photo fascinated him. Who was she? What was her story? He carefully clicked the mouse, moving the image to the side as he opened the next file, a PDF document. It was some sort of map of Istanbul. But it wasn’t an ordinary map. It was overlain with coordinates and other details. In the bottom corner of the map there was a paragraph about 2048-bit encryption keys. He reviewed the map for a few moments before pushing it aside and clicking on the last file – the audio file. He launched it and listened to it play. It was the sound of woman’s voice recording her findings.
Woman’s voice: August 4th, 2:14pm – 1024-bit RSA keys no longer have the protection value they once did. This loaded cipher drive can crack the standard 1024-bit RSA key in just less than 27 minutes, far quicker than the standard 11-month time frame required for cracking a 1024-bit RSA key. I’ve created the cipher using a new string of algorithms that exponentially increases the speed of brute force crack. This technology, if found in the wrong hands, could be used to hack government, banking, and infrastructure on the Internet like never before. There would be no stopping anyone who got their hands on it.
Man’s voice: What will you do with the technology now that you’ve achieved your goal of creating a sub one-hour cracking cipher for the standard 1024-bit RSA key?
Woman’s voice: My team is now working on the holy grail of all cracking ciphers: the 2048-bit RSA key crack. These RSA keys are rare in the field of cryptology, but as Moore’s law of computing technology doubling every 18 to 24 months, it won’t be long until 2048-bit RSA keys become the stan
dard. I won’t rest until we reach that goal.
Man’s voice: And you think it’s possible to create that kind of crack? The complexities are incredulous for cracking something like that.
Woman’s voice: Yes, it’s 2 to the nth power with 2048 being n in this case. Yes, we’re well aware of the complexities. But this is the task at hand. This is what we’ve been commissioned to complete.
The audio recording stopped, and Jonathan Grace sat back in his chair, still staring at the audio recording on his laptop screen. God, this is going to change the world. With this technology, he can break into anything. Any bank, any government institution, any state infrastructure; literally, anything. He now realized why the pay was so high and why Don Cicerone was willing to do just about anything to get that cipher drive back. What were his intentions with it? It couldn’t be anything good, but who was he to judge? The Don was a paying client and the only person keeping him solvent right now.
He opened the yellow envelope again and leafed through the five twenty-thousand-dollar-stacks of hundred dollar bills. He knew what he needed to do now. He knew what the job entailed, but where would he start? Where was he going to go from here? He stared at his laptop for a few minutes. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew he had to start out by doing research. He needed to find out everything he could possibly know about this woman and the technology she held in her hands. He needed to find out where she was, how she spent her day, and somehow get close enough to her to grab the drive. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that he had his work cut out from him.
*****
After a long full day of travel, Jonathan found himself in the passenger terminal at the Istanbul Ataturk Airport. He looked around, studying the passengers that were busy making their way to their destinations, rushing to connecting flights, or leaving the airport to head home. All of them were completely oblivious to the technological doomsday device that was floating around somewhere nearby. They were completely unaware of the power that a small four by one piece of computer hardware could have on the global economy. A complete shutdown and draining of money from financial systems or a complete rewiring of city and state infrastructure through coordinated hacks were just a couple of the ills that the device could be used to perpetrate
You’re going to make one million dollars, Jonathan. One million dollars. It was more money than he had ever seen and the allure of the profit and his fear of the client drove him to push through any mental roadblocks he may have had of doing the job. He was going to find the woman and he was going to find the hardware. But why him? Why had Don Cicerone picked him to do the job? Jonathan knew that he was capable, but it was clear that he had been falling apart in recent years. He must have seen that when they met in the park. He must have known that but still decided to go with him for the job. He felt honored that they chose him, but he did have a great rapport with them in the past. In the past, when they needed something, he always came through. He could always find the man or the woman they were looking for, without fail.
He thought about Don Cicerone and what would happen to him if he failed as he waited in the taxi line outside the airport terminal. The air was hot, and the New York heat wave was seemingly mirrored in Istanbul. He couldn’t get away from the heat. He couldn’t escape it even if he tried. It was the middle of summer and it felt exactly like it. He was in unfamiliar territory but that didn’t detract him from what he knew needed to be done. Scanning the busy terminal, Jonathan made his way outside to hail a taxi and get to the city center. He had brushed up on Turkish phrases on the flight over, and tried to recite them in his mind. The language wasn’t easy to pick up, and he knew it was going to take some work to get acclimated.
“Merhaba,” said the taxi driver as he climbed in.
“Merhaba,” said Jonathan back. That was an easy one. It meant hello. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes. Little,” replied the cabbie in broken English. “Where will you go?”
“Besiktas?” said Jonathan, naming off the area of the city where the hotel was located.
“Oh, okay. You mean Beşiktaş? To a hotel?”
“Yes. The Le Hotel.”
“Okay, no problem. Where are from?” His English was bad but it was better than him trying to communicate with him in Turkish. He wasn’t at a conversational level just yet.
“New York City.”
“Oh, New York City. I love New York,” he said, laughing to himself. “Very big city. Like Istanbul.”
“Yes, very big city,” Jonathan replied.
“You come vacation in Istanbul?”
Jonathan looked at the man through the rearview mirror. He seemed like an innocent, hardworking man. The thick dark mustache made it difficult to see his mouth.
“No, for work.”
“Oh, okay. For what kind of work you do?”
“I’m an investigator. Like a detective.” Jonathan didn’t mind the conversation, but he was enjoying taking in the sights and the sounds of the new city. It was the first time he had ever been to Istanbul and he enjoyed the change of scenery. Stuck in a rut, the doldrums of living in New York wore on him. Although it was a city full of opportunity, his opportunity had been in the dirt for a while now, and he was happy to finally get a good break.
“You are police?” The taxi driver looked at Jonathan now with suspect through the rearview mirror, and he didn’t seem like the type of person who liked police.
“No. No. Not police. Private investigator for private clients.”
“Oh. Okay. Police here no good. I don’t like.”
“I understand. Not many people do like the police when they have to deal with them. The taxi drivers in New York complain about the police too.” Jonathan lied. He wanted to get the cabbie back on his side again.
“Yes. Police sometimes very bad. They take money. They steal.”
“Really?” Jonathan hadn’t realized that corruption was that apparent in a city like Istanbul, but it didn’t shock him. It didn’t shock him that there were people in power gaming the system. It was probably just more apparent in a city like Istanbul, but he knew that kind of corruption existed everywhere. Some countries were just better at hiding it than others. If you took a country like the United States, you might not see the corruption that visibly, but it still existed. Jonathan knew all too well just how much it existed. He had been tasked with helping to uncover some of that corruption in his early days as a detective working in the city. But, that was in the past. He didn’t want to go backwards.
“Evet. Really.”
He had recalled the word evet, which meant yes in Turkish. He looked at the working-class man through the rearview mirror again, then at the ancient city as they drove over a spectacular bridge across the Bosporus, separating the Asian side of Turkey from the European side. The shimmering city’s mosques glittered in the distance as they made their way over the large suspension bridge. Jonathan couldn’t recall seeing anything so beautiful in such a long time.
The city sparkled along the water and he was hit with a rush of excitement and exhilaration. He knew he had work to do, but just breathing in the air of the ancient city made him feel more alive. He was no longer confined to the bowels of New York City; he was really living life. This was it. This was what it was all about. He wrapped both arms around his backpack as if it were a little child on his lap. That backpack contained virtually his entire life at that moment.
On the last stretch of road before they reached the hotel, Jonathan marveled at the sparkling sea. He looked at the dichotomy in women, some wearing burkas, some without, and realized how far away from home he really was. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind being far away form home because of the rich historical beauty that he found himself immersed in. The city made him feel alive again. It made him feel like a person. He had a purpose and a meaning to his life. He didn’t have to drift away in some dingy apartment in Brooklyn; he could live again doing what he knew how to do best. As long as he didn’
t mess up the opportunity, there would surely be more to come for him.
When he finally reached the hotel and checked in, he thanked the taxi driver. He took one last moment to look at him as he shook his hand before walking into the hotel with his bag. The cobblestone and historical exterior was a stark contrast to the sleek and modern interior of the Le Hotel in Istanbul. The blacks and reds evaded the space with brilliant pops of color that brought the space to life. The modern furniture with its clean lines, gave way to rich and brilliantly colored finishes throughout the space. He marveled at the beauty of the space for a moment and felt pleased with himself for having found that gem.
He took a moment to gather himself as he walked into the stylish room that had all the comforts of home. He stepped out onto the small terrace and sat there for a few moments collecting his thoughts. The seven-hour time difference ahead from New York was going to catch up with him at some point, but he still had energy from the sleep he caught on the flight. He walked back into the room and decided to setup his laptop and get to work. He had to find Dr. Cobalt and get the black USB cipher drive. He stared at the PDF map on his screen for a few moments. He studied the coordinates and other detailed information on the map, and then minimized it on his screen. He opened up another browser, and this time decided to do a Google search for information on Dr. Cobalt to see what he could come up with.
Jonathan used to be a pro at surfing the Web. Before he allowed the drinking to get in the way, he was one of the most proficient investigators that there was. He was trying to find that in him again. He wanted so badly to succeed, because it also meant getting his life back together. That money meant a sense of normalcy; a life where he didn’t have to take dead-end jobs that paid next to nothing. It was the chance of a lifetime and he was hoping and praying that he wouldn’t screw it up. As he stood there staring at the Web browser, he keyed in information in a variety of different formats. He started with the search “Dr. Jennifer M. Cobalt,” in the search field on Google to see what he would come up with. Of course, there were loads of links with a variety of news articles.