by Tom Fowler
My phone rang. I snatched it from the desk and looked hopefully at the caller ID. Instead of Hess, however, it was Rich. I answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Any word from Hess?” said Rich.
“Not since I handed over everything I had on Samantha’s killer.”
“It’s bothering you.”
“Yeah. I could be working her case. I should be working her case.”
“You’d be doing something illegal.”
“We both know I’m all about law and order,” I said.
“You get what I mean. Hess can put this guy away.”
“I’m not interested in putting him away.”
“Look,” Rich said, “Hess is a good guy. It sounds like you did a lot of work. If there’s something there, he’ll go after it.”
“He’d better. I trusted you on this.”
“You did the right thing. I want to make sure you’re giving the process time. Hess has to talk to attorneys, go after warrants, and all.”
“I’m familiar with how the process works,” I said, “even if I do my damnedest not to use it.”
Rich chuckled. “Give it a chance, then. How long did he say?”
“He told me to give him a day or two.” I took a deep breath. “What I don’t want to do is wait around and then find out he can’t do anything.”
“I know. Just don’t do anything stupid. Remember, if Hess can do something with your information, you might end up being a witness. Keep your credibility.”
“I’m almost impressed how you think I have some to offer,” I said.
“I’m feeling generous today.”
“Your guy better come through, Rich.”
“Give him a chance,” Rich said again. “You won’t regret it.”
“I hope I don’t,” I said and hung up. Rich usually broke the connection on me without saying goodbye. I derived a tiny bit of satisfaction from turning the tables on him.
* * *
When I was growing up, my parents liked to tell me idle hands were the devil’s playthings. They weren’t very original. I tried to keep busy as a kid, mostly because I hated being bored and in part because I wanted them to stop abusing the poor cliché. When my non-idle hands discovered computers and how to compromise them, my parents stopped encouraging me to find something to do.
I stared at my keyboard. Hacking always came naturally to me. Computers were stupid and operating systems were easy. Most people, even those who worked in the field, didn’t understand security enough to close off all avenues of attack. Even state-run websites in communist China showed vulnerabilities. I knew the ISPs would have weakness somewhere. I’d just promised Rich I would give Agent Hess a day, but I couldn’t shake the feeling he would come back to me with a sad look and palms upturned. Going after the providers would be hedging my bets.
Gloria regarded me from the office doorway. “You look like a man who needs to be distracted,” she said in a come-hither voice nearly compelling me to leap from the chair.
I took a breath to calm myself. “I’m trying to trust the process,” I said.
“The process?”
“Agent Hess. I gave him all the ammo in my belt. I’m trying to believe he’ll come through with the warrant.”
“But you don’t think he will.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a tossup. I don’t want to sit around and do nothing in case he fails.”
“What did Rich say?” asked Gloria.
She knew Rich called. I smiled and wondered if the two of them talked about me. “He told me to trust the process. Where do you think I got the phrase?”
She smiled. “And that’s what you’re trying to do?”
“It’s very tempting not to.”
“Well,” she said, turning on the come-hither voice again, “I think I know a way to distract you for a while.”
Gloria’s plans occupied me for a long while, it turned out. We went upstairs, came back down an hour and change later, and then resumed watching The Fellowship of the Ring, which my epiphany forced Gloria to watch alone. Thoughts of my sister’s killer flashed into my head every time I heard the names Elrond or Boromir. Boromir’s death at the end felt satisfying. I never liked him in the movie anyway, and now with the name connected to Samantha’s murderer, I enjoyed every arrow puncturing his body.
“Are you planning to distract me again?” I said as the credits rolled.
“If that’s what it takes,” said Gloria.
“I would hate to impose.”
“I think we can find something to do in the meantime.” Her face brightened. “Come shopping with me.”
“What?” I felt my good mood fleeing at the thought of being in a store with Gloria.
“I want to look at some clothes. You can give me your opinion on them.”
“Do you at least know where you’re going to go?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
I couldn’t conceive how Gloria or any woman could use such a shopping method. Whether I needed clothes, books, or anything, I knew where I wanted to go and possessed at least some idea what I wanted to look at. I did research. I scoffed at salespeople trying to sell me crap for the sake of their commissions. Maybe it was a guy thing. Gloria employed an entirely different process.
“You coming?” she said with a grin.
It seemed like the boyfriend thing to do. I shrugged. “Why not?” I said.
* * *
I discovered a myriad of reasons why not almost as soon as we began. Gloria chose the Galleria under the Renaissance Hotel downtown. There were better places to go for shopping, and while they all required more driving, the payoff would have been worth it. Instead, Gloria frumped her way through some place called Loft. Because the prices were confined to only two digits before the decimal point, Gloria presumed something was wrong with the clothes. She looked at the sale rack as if she expected a snake to uncoil from it at any moment.
Her trip to Victoria’s Secret lifted my spirits. There, awash in a sea of overpriced pink, Gloria found more happiness. She tried on a negligee making me want to slip into the dressing stall with her. If two employees weren’t lingering in the uncrowded store, it might have happened. Gloria crooked her finger at me when she spied a sales girl shooting her the hairy eyeball. I wondered how often people had sex in the changing rooms. Probably not too often with the coitus police working the register.
She bought the negligee but passed on a couple other things. We walked across to Harborplace to have lunch at McCormick and Schmick’s. They made a passable crab cake, featured superior fish, and cooked a good steak. We’d barely put in our orders when my phone rang. I ignored Gloria’s frown and looked at it.
It was Hess.
“I have to take this,” I said, and excused myself from the table. “Hello?” I said after a jaunt to the lobby.
“C.T., it’s Agent Hess,” he said. “How are you?”
“Depends on what you have to tell me.”
“Look, it’s taking a little longer than I wanted. There are a couple judges I like to go to, and I can’t get in to see either of them until after courts are done for the day.”
“So we’re in a holding pattern.”
“More or less.”
“I’m chafing at not doing anything,” I said.
“I’m sure you are.” His tone sounded genuine. “It’s just taking some time.”
“Longfellow told us the mills of God grind slowly, Agent Hess. I expect the mills of the FBI to be a little faster.”
I cut off his reply when I hung up.
Chapter 18
I got to work when we got home. To her credit, Gloria wanted to go somewhere else to keep me from the temptation. I couldn’t be away from it any longer. I trusted Rich, Hess, the FBI, and their damnable process. So far, all I could show for it was an ache to do more and the vague semi-optimism of Agent Hess. None of it would ever be enough.
In Hong Kong, my cohorts and I hacked our ways into pretty much anything a
nd never left any traces. Companies learned more about security in the intervening time, but so did I. Hackers always stayed a step ahead of the people trying to keep them out. Getting into the ISPs would not be fast; I would need to conduct serious reconnaissance work first, plus make sure my online footprints would be invisible. Gloria watched TV and puttered around while I did the legwork. She tried to come in and convince me to come up for air a couple times but quickly learned the futility of it.
I smelled something wafting from the kitchen a couple hours later. Did Gloria try to cook? If so, I expected the smoke alarm to go off any minute now. After a few moments, relief flooded me when I realized my house would not be a cinder by the end of the evening. Gloria materialized in the office door a short time later. “Want some pizza?”
“You made a pizza?” I said.
Gloria snickered. “Delivery from that place we like nearby. You want any?”
I’d been working without a break since we arrived home. Sitting in a chair, mapping some networks, and typing would never qualify as hard work, but I’d immersed myself in it. My stomach grumbled with the onset of hunger. “I’ll get some in a little while.”
“Hard at work?” She walked into the room and stood behind my chair.
“For a change.” I stopped. Someone looking over my shoulder always served to distract me. I reminded myself my sister’s murder outstripped my peculiarities and went back at it.
“It’s amazing all of that makes sense to you,” Gloria said, leaning closer to the monitor as if searching for insight.
“Hopefully, it’ll lead me to an answer soon.”
Gloria lingered and watched me work for a few more minutes. I guess the excitement of a network mapper and a terminal shell became too much for her, and she needed to leave the room to escape the thrills. The TV clicked on a moment later. I finished a couple of network scans and then went into the kitchen. Gloria ordered a plain cheese and a mushroom and onion pizza. I took two slices of the latter, poured myself some iced tea, and went back to the office. After an additional two slices of pizza and another glass of tea, I secured the network information I needed.
A few minutes of research told me all I should know about the intrusion detection systems I would encounter. From there, I made sure I took all the necessary precautions to remain invisible as I poked and prodded the ISPs. I wasn’t stealing anything. I wasn’t exfiltrating a bunch of data I shouldn’t have. All I wanted to do was search their records for users with handles in the format of Rondel and Romirbo. Where was the harm? I didn’t expect them to agree with my philosophy, but someone like me could have been doing a lot worse.
It took longer than necessary, but I wanted to make sure I set everything up correctly. My scripted searches fired, running against the large national ISPs, as well as the consequential local and regional ones. I got up and vowed to do something else. Melinda tugged at my memory. I was supposed to talk to Joey about her.
No time like the present.
* * *
To my great non-surprise, Joey already ate dinner. I told him I would pick up dessert and bring it by. Armed with three pieces of decadent cheesecake—two for Joey—I knocked on his door. He let me in, and we sat at his breakfast nook. He brewed some coffee. I took the cheesecake out of the bag and arranged the pieces on the table. Joey came back with two coffees and two forks.
I let him indulge in some velvety goodness before I got down to business. Given the choice of the three pieces, Joey chose black forest and red velvet, leaving me with strawberry. No objections from me. I sipped my coffee and took a small bite of the slice. By contrast, Joey devoured his one-fifth at a time. “What brings you by?” he said after wiping his face on a napkin.
“I need your help with something,” I said.
“Samantha?” Joey said after an enormous bite,
“No, the other case. The hooker.”
“What about her?”
“Her stalker turned up on my street.”
“You sure it was him?”
I repeated what I told Melinda. “If it wasn’t, someone else has the same car and a keen interest in being seen driving by my house.”
Joey shook his head. “You told her?”
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s spooked. It took a while, but she’s finally spooked.” I ate another bite. The strawberry ripples breaking its surface tasted natural and fresh.
“What now?” said Joey.
“I need to put her up somewhere, and it can’t be my place. I was hoping she could stay with you.”
“With me?”
“Her stalker doesn’t know about you,” I said. “She won’t get in the way of your work, and I know you can protect her if it came down to it.”
Joey pursed his lips in thought. “There are probably some perks to having a hooker for a houseguest.”
“I knew you’d see the positives.” In reality, I hoped Joey wouldn’t fixate on such an obvious benefit. Melinda might be too spooked and cautious to express her gratitude in the way Joey wanted. Going off the other end, I didn’t want him to wind up smitten with a prostitute after a few romps in the sack.
“Give me a call when you want to bring her by,” Joey said.
“It’ll probably be tonight. If I can, I’ll get Rollins to handle the transfer.”
“You expect to be occupied with Samantha’s case?”
“I do,” I said.
* * *
I got home and walked down the hallway to my office. My illicit inquiries could be finished. I might have my answers and then get revenge for Samantha. I stood in the doorway. Giving my word meant something to me. I told Rich and Hess I would trust their process and hope for the best. I already did the legwork; all Hess was required to do was find a judge who liked him enough to sign a piece of paper. How hard could it be?
If it were so easy, how come I didn’t have the good word from Hess yet? Did he experience a problem with the judge? Had he already been denied and now slow-rolled me because he didn’t want to call and tell me? Courts would long be finished for the day—lawyers and judges avoided overtime as if they were afflicted by a terminal allergy to it. Hess said it was taking longer than he expected. I felt confident my expectations differed from his.
Gloria already left, probably to go back to her own house. We weren’t living together full time, which was fine with me. I rarely stayed with her even though her place could have held two of mine and still allowed room for a swanky kitchen. Despite its size deficit, I liked my house and the stuff in it. I liked having an office on the first floor and being a short drive from a real office I didn’t use often enough. Tonight, Gloria would probably have tried to distract me from working on the case. She did it out of my best interests, which I understood and appreciated. I would have let her distract me for a while. At some point, the anticipation of waiting for Hess’ call would make me poor company. The witching hour dawned.
I pried myself away from the office door and sat on my couch. The emptiness of the rooms only made me restive. I could smell Gloria’s fragrant and expensive shampoo in my couch cushions, and the scent reinforced her absence. I missed her. This didn’t help. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. I tend to be a channel flipper and my mood only amplified it. Shows or movies I liked to watch got only a few seconds on the screen before I went to the next channel. The lack of focus on the TV allowed me to relax a little.
As I flipped up to the premium channels, my phone rang. It was Hess. I hoped for good news while bracing myself for something else. “Hello?” I said.
“C.T., it’s Agent Hess.” I heard disappointment tinge his voice. He failed. He’d failed my sister and failed my trust.
“I trust you have some news for me?” I fought to keep my voice neutral.
“I haven’t been able to get a warrant. I know it’s not the news you want, but it’s reality. This is a . . . complicated case.”
“It’s a very simple case. My sister is dead. Someone killed her. I handed you a wheelbarro
w of evidence to find him.”
“Fruit of a poisoned tree.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have bothered. You and your system are useless.”
“I’m still going to try—“
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Don’t. Don’t bother. I know how to proceed, and it doesn’t involve groveling before some asshole in a black robe. Thanks for your time, Agent Hess.” His reply died on the line when I hung up on him.
I got up from the couch, not even pausing to turn off the TV, and walked into my office. As soon as I sat, my phone rang again. This time, it was Rich. “Did Hess ask you to call?” I said.
“He told me what happened,” said Rich. “I’m sure you’re disappointed.”
“I am, but I wonder why. I should have known this would fail.”
“The system works.”
I laughed. “Yeah, sure it does. And you wonder why I don’t want to be a part of it. It works like a fucking charm . . . right up until it doesn’t. When it happens, people can’t get their heads out of their asses to figure out how to fix anything.”
“Your spin is unfair. C.T., I don’t want you to go and do something you’ll regret.”
“I don’t believe in regrets,” I told him. “But if I did, trusting you and Hess and your precious system would make the list.” I hung up on Rich, too, before he could say anything.
I was on a goddamn roll.
Chapter 19
The roll ended as soon as I realized some results were still pending. I’d put a lot of work into this information extraction, but it was dependent on other processes. My anonymizer needed to run, then the meticulous ISP detecting and bypassing scripts, and others set to wipe away my electronic footprints. I could have obtained results faster but at the risk of being visible. I settled for slower results and the extreme likelihood of being untraceable. It was a tradeoff I’d been glad to make at the beginning. Now, after my frustrating conversations with Hess and Rich, I wanted results, and I didn’t have them yet.