Desperate (25 page)

H
ere’s the thing about cybercrime: it looks just like work. I sat alone in my cube, clicking, and mousing, and typing. I didn’t need a black balaclava to conceal my identity. No, I would need to modify log files to cover my tracks.

In terms of data security, what we implemented to safeguard Olympian’s intellectual property could earn us a CIA triad “best practices” award. CIA in my world has nothing to do with the Central Intelligence Agency. It stands for something else: Confidentiality, Integrity, and Availability. Protecting sensitive information from unauthorized access is what confidentiality is all about. When it comes to safeguarding sensitive data, privacy equals security.

The “I” in CIA, or integrity, means protecting the data from modification. Only those with root access, meaning the three members of the Security Breach Team, Matt Simons included, could access or alter any and all data pertaining to the Olympian project. Which was why the Breach Team was carefully selected and highly trusted, and why we changed all the passwords after Adam Wang was let go.

Ensuring that critical data is available when needed, the “A” in CIA, safeguards against power outages, failover redundancy, or denial of service attacks.

The real CIA could take a lesson from us about safeguarding data. What we had was the Fort Knox of data security. There was no single repository for everything Olympian. The design plans were kept on a physically separate server from the materials plans, which were housed in a different building. The measurement plans, essentially the recipe for making the nanotubes, were in the same building as the materials plans but kept on yet another separate server on its own private network. The process diagrams and assembly instructions were also in that building, but they were on a different floor on a physically distinct machine as well. And each room, where each different server was located, was protected by sophisticated access control and tracking mechanisms.

It wasn’t a small amount of data. If I printed out everything, the process to cook up an Olympian battery would fill several boxes of three-ring binders. In addition to the physical separation, we also had a suite of high-end data loss prevention products (or because we computer folks love acronyms, DLP products). Try to e-mail some protected files to your Gmail account, or IM them, or stuff them in a Dropbox folder, and we’d block access using in-motion data protection technology. Stick a USB key into the slot on one of our servers, or a camera cable, or an iPod, and we’d deny the file transfer using endpoint technology. Go after our archives, the artifacts of our failed attempts to build the battery, the plans we’d long ago abandoned, and our data at rest security protocols would make sure the Security Breach Team knew immediately. I had to get through four layers of security on four different physical machines to give Roy what we’d agreed upon.

As it turned out, Nicky gave Roy a couple of names; he went dialing for dollars, and came up lucky. Somebody was willing to pay a million for the Olympian product plans—maybe even more. I didn’t care if Roy was skimming on this job like he did the other. I just wanted Nicky Stacks gone from my life forever.

It was time to get to work. Security layer one: Did I have the right biometric authentication and badge permissions to unlock the doors to the server rooms where the machines are located? Answer: yes. My fingerprint had been recorded using a biometric reader and as a member of the Security Breach Team, I could use my badge plus a finger-scan to unlock the server room doors.

Layer two: When I logged into the machine, could I access the files I needed? Answer: yes, again, as long as I used my root log-on.

Layer three: Could I decrypt the data? Answer: Each member of the Security Breach Team had the decryption protocols so we could evaluate the content for any unauthorized changes.

Layer four: Could I disable the monitoring? Answer: You bet. I had the same level of access as Matt Simons when he breached the system to sabotage Adam Wang’s career.

The whole theft occurred over many hours, involving four different locations, four different biometric scans, and four different file transfers to my 8GB USB drive. The amazing thing about data theft was how so much of it, reams and reams of it, could be stored on something smaller than my thumb, with lots of room to spare.

Four times I needed to modify the server log files to delete my presence. In addition, I also had to delete the logs for the biometric access control to the server rooms. If they were ever checked, logs showing that I accessed the four separate locations in quick succession might look pretty suspicious. It was akin to erasing video surveillance footage of a traditional B&E job. I had been there, but I wasn’t there. I was a phantom, a ghost. The whole time it felt like an out-of-body experience, my stomach doing twists to rival Greg Louganis in his prime. My tapping fingers left behind drops of sweat encoded with my DNA on the keypads. Good thing we didn’t detect for that marker.

I was on the fourth log file, standing in the middle of a frigid server room on the second floor of my office building. Air conditioners used to keep the servers cool were blasting on high, while my feet felt bouncy on the raised floor. I was just about to complete the last step in my theft. I had committed the robbery in the light of day, during regular working hours, because after-hours access would have raised questions and left records I could not have erased as easily.

I wasn’t kidding myself into thinking my actions were justified. I was scared, sick with worry, but felt cornered and out of options. Go to the cops and Stacks would make sure I went down for Jorge’s murder, leaving Anna, my parents, everyone I love unprotected, and me a target for one of Stacks’s men to shank while I was in jail. Did I let all those people I love die, or did I take matters into my own hands?

I tried not to think of how this would impact my company. I was standing at a fork in a road where each path would lead me to a different but horrible outcome.

My body quaked. I thought of confiding in Brad, but worried about dragging him and Janice into my disaster. I had made a decision to reset my moral compass because I saw no other choice.

I had no way out. I’d give Roy the plans and pray he could sell them.

All that changed when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

My heart stopped, and a fresh band of terror raced up my spine.

“Goodness, Gage,” Patrice said. “What are you doing here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Could Patrice see the fear in my eyes? Caught in the act, caught red-handed, I tried to speak but couldn’t find my voice. What was she doing here? What did she want?

“We’re supposed to have a meeting in my office before we meet with Peter.”

I groaned inwardly. In my haste to get the data for Roy’s middleman, I hadn’t checked my calendar. I knew we had a meeting scheduled for later in the afternoon, but I’d forgotten Patrice wanted to have a premeeting before we sat down with the CEO.

“I’m just finishing up,” I managed to say. “I’m sorry I forgot all about it.”

“I tried to text you,” Patrice replied, sounding a bit frazzled. I hadn’t checked my phone. I must have been concentrating hard because I didn’t even feel the vibrations from each new text received. “Mamatha said she saw you come up here.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said, exhaling slowly.

“You look busy, so we’ll reschedule. Finish up and come down to my office in an hour,” Patrice said. “Does that work?”

I didn’t bother to check my calendar. “Will do,” I said. “I’m so sorry,” I wanted to say.

“What were you doing here, anyway?” Patrice asked.

The lie came out before I realized what I was saying. “Just making sure the configuration files didn’t get corrupted during last night’s backup,” I said. “I don’t want anything to go wrong for the next demo.”

Patrice returned a pleased smile. “Thanks, Gage. Really. You’re one of the reasons the project has turned into a success. I honestly don’t want to think of what would happen if we fail.”

But I was thinking about it. I was thinking about the company going out of business. Thousands left unemployed. Countless lives altered or even halted. Careers would be ended. Marriages would crumple under the strain. Families would be torn apart. Savings accounts depleted, all because I gave Roy the secrets to our success.

I thought about Wendy from my group, whose kid needed major orthodontic work. And Zack in documentation, who needed five more years of steady employment before he could embark on his bucket list dream to travel to Europe as a kickoff to retirement. I thought about Rebecca, who was pregnant and the only one working while her husband finished grad school, and Esther, whose husband just died of a heart attack. The ripple effect from my betrayal would reverberate through so many lives.

Save the people I love or save the company that saved me when I was at my worst, my darkest time?

Patrice turned to go, but something made her turn back around.

“Oh, and while you’re accessing the servers,” she said. “Can you make sure the archive is still online? Gerry finished his forensic analysis and wanted to make sure the configuration of the battery that caught fire went into the proper archives, but he couldn’t do the transfer. Maybe you can do a quick check and figure out why. If you can’t, we might have to restore the data from our backups.”

“I wonder why that happened,” I said, honestly curious.

Patrice just shrugged. “Who knows,” she said. “Mamatha thinks it has something to do with the disaster recovery system IT is testing out.”

“I didn’t know we were testing a new system,” I said.

“Neither did we,” Patrice said, her tone implying corporate inefficiencies were just a fact of life. “Mamatha just found out about it herself, but whenever something that works stops working, the best place to look for the culprit is usually what changed. This new system is probably what caused the archive to become inaccessible.”

“So the backups were taking snapshots of everything?” I asked. “All of our data?”

Patrice nodded. “That’s what I was told.”

My eyes widened.
Yes, of course
.

“I’ll be happy to check on the archive problem,” I said. And I meant it, too.

Because what Patrice just said changed everything. I logged out of the server and set off to talk to our IT guys.

I never did make the second meeting with Patrice. I was too busy working with IT. When I had what I needed, I went looking for Matt Simons. I found him in his cubical, working away.

“Why weren’t you at Patrice’s meeting?” Simons asked.

“I was busy.”

“This isn’t the time to have your priorities mixed up. The meeting with Patrice should have preempted everything.”

“I’m confused. Are you my boss, Matt?” I asked.

He looked offended.

“I’m in charge of this project, like it or not.”

I crouched down to get at his level.

“I have proof,” I said in a low voice. It was hard to contain my ebullience and I didn’t really try.

Simons looked alarmed.

“Proof of what?”

“IT is testing a new archiving system. You didn’t know about it. None of us did. Those IT guys. They do things but they don’t always tell you. Thanks to this new archiving system they’re testing, we have two copies of our files published to the archives each night. The copy you know about, the archive you modified to erase all history of your file tampering, and the one you didn’t know about, the one IT was testing. You know what I found in those archives? Proof that you were the one who changed the formula for the build that caught fire. You didn’t delete that evidence because you didn’t even know it existed. I have the modified files with your log-in information all over them, you jackass.”

Simons stammered, unable to speak.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

And so I told him.

B
rad had ordered an iced tea from the slender brunette waitress. I got a glass of water with a lemon slice. We passed on ordering food, and her semi-scowl seemed to anticipate the measly tip to come. Of course that wouldn’t be the case, scowl or not.

We were in the outside seating patio area at Not Your Average Joe’s in Arlington Center. The bright sun baked the metal table hot to the touch, but I wanted to be outside and in a public place when I made the exchange. I also wanted to have a friend along with me in case things got dicey.

Brad wore a dark blue, short-sleeved polo shirt, dungarees, and aviator-like sunglasses. With his bushy mustache he looked a bit like a spy on a stakeout, and judging by the way he acted—highly alert while making several furtive glances—he was acting like one, too.

“Brad, drink your tea and relax. I’m not worried anything is going to happen.”

“Then why’d you want me here?”

“Just as security, extra eyes in case I’m missing something.” Something I’d learned from Roy.

“So that’s what I’m doing,” Brad said a bit defensively. “I’m acting as the eyes.”

I nodded, surrendering to his logic.

“It’s going to be fine, Brad. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Are you asking me or telling me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not how you feel.”

I returned a grimace. “Hey, are you reading my aura?” I asked.

“No, I’m just being your pal. And I can tell you’re pretty nervous.”

Of course, Brad was right. Every passing car made me jumpy. I kept thinking the windows would roll down and Lucas would lean out with gun in hand, ready to riddle my body with hot lead. My phone would buzz intermittently with text messages from Anna or with a trivial work-related matter, but of course I’d think it was Patrice, who noticed some unusual activity requiring the immediate attention of the breach team. Maybe I hadn’t covered my tracks as carefully as I thought, and I’d soon be investigating the data theft I’d just perpetrated. Or maybe I was overly confident and this plan of mine was going to fail.

As we waited for Roy to show, my uneasiness only grew. I twisted several napkins into shreds while doing battle with my emotions. I thought about asking Brad to take hold of my hands to see if Max was somewhere looking on. I wanted to know if he was proud of my solution.

Max and I had talked a lot about no-win situations after I introduced him to the joys of
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
at the wildly inappropriate age of seven. Had the movie come out two years later, it would have been PG-13, but I didn’t share that tidbit with Karen when I got it on Netflix and showed her it was fine for Max to watch because of its PG rating. Max fell completely in love with the movie and Star Trek as a result. At one particularly dramatic moment, he made me hit reverse so we could both yell, “KHAN!” right along with Captain Kirk.

After the viewing, we talked at length about the
Kobayashi Maru
, the training exercise at the Starfleet Academy designed to test the character of potential future starship captains. It was a no-win scenario in which the test taker, Lieutenant Saavik, played by Kirstie Alley, must decide to engage in a suicide mission to rescue the crew of a damaged spaceship, the
Kobayashi Maru
, or take choice number two and abandon the crew of the
Kobayashi Maru
, leaving them to a certain death.

The parallels to my own life weren’t lost on me. Give Lithio Systems competitive advantage to Roy and put the company out of business? Or don’t give Roy the plans, don’t get Nicky Stacks his money, and watch the people I love die? A no-win situation.

When it was revealed in the film that Captain Kirk had altered the program to beat the test, he said he did so because he did not believe in no-win scenarios, and neither do I. In fact, Kirk was my inspiration for finding the one way out of this paradox. To win the game, I had to change the rules.

“Where’d you go?” Brad asked.

His voice pulled me out of my daydream, but the lump in my throat from thinking about Max and the movie he loved remained.

“Sorry, I’m just anxious.” The speed at which my feet tapped against the patio flagstone was the combination of Adderall magic and fractured nerves.

“I thought you said there was nothing to be worried about.”

“I figured you’d know I was lying.”

Brad nodded. “Yeah, of course I did. But I’m glad you called me, anyway.”

“And do you think I’ve done the right thing?”

“I think you were faced with two terrible choices.”

I had confided in Brad—full disclosure. He knew this was my personal version of the
Kobayashi Maru
.

“What would you have done?” I asked.

“I probably would have been too scared to think of anything logical. He threatened your family, Gage. You’re mixed up with some very dangerous people.”

“Which is why I wish you hadn’t pressed me for the details.”

“Hey, I wasn’t coming out on a stakeout without getting the facts first.”

“Well, now you’ve got them.” I sounded glum. I checked the time on my phone. Roy would be here in five minutes.

“It’s going to work,” Brad said. “I have a feeling.”

“You don’t sound sincere.”

“What are you talking about? I’m completely sincere.”

“No, you sounded overly sincere. That’s not the same thing.”

“I’m a plumber. We don’t exaggerate unless it has something to do with your bill.”

I gave Brad a surprised look. “So you guys do overcharge!”

Brad put his finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said. “It’s a trade secret.” He smiled and winked, and I felt a little bit better, a smidge lighter, until I saw Roy approach.

He came walking down the street with his usual swagger, chewing on a toothpick, thumbs hooked into the loops of his jeans, black boots scraping on the sidewalk, his black T-shirt clinging to his trim physique. Roy sat down, lowered his shades, and appraised Brad with a curious look.

“Is he your protection?” Roy asked, switching the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, while thumbing over to Brad. He pushed his shades back up.

“I’m just a guy enjoying a glass of iced tea on a sunny day,” Brad said, lifting his glass to show Roy.

Roy mulled this over.

“Okay, whatever. You got the stuff?”

“Yeah, I got it.” I put the USB key down on the table.

Roy cupped the USB key with his hand and slid it across to himself. I watched him examine it carefully, twirling it in his fingers.

“This is it?” he asked.

“That’s it.”

“It’s not much.”

“It’s worth a lot to the right buyer,” I said. “Do you have the right buyer?”

“The guy Nicky hooked me up with says so, and he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

“And you think this will get enough money to pay back Nicky?” Brad asked.

Roy shot me an irritated look.

“You told Lily, I told Brad,” I said.

Roy just shrugged. “Whatever,” he said again. Then to Brad Roy said, “Yeah, it better bring in enough scratch. We gotta move quick on this.”

“Who is your source?” Brad asked.

Roy looked at me, pointed to Brad, and said, “Who is this guy?”

“I’m his friend,” Brad said.

Roy stared at Brad, his eyes unreadable behind those shades. “Aren’t you the plumber?”

“Yeah, I’m his friend who happens to be a plumber.”

Roy grinned, and his crooked mouth seemed to put the world at a tilt. “Well, plumber friend,” he said, showing Brad the USB key, “you better hope that this here is good enough to get us the cash we need, or Nicky is going to flush his body parts right down the drain along with mine.” He stood up, pushing his metal chair back with a scraping sound. He put his hands against his hips in a move that made the muscles of his arms tighten and his tattoos flex. He nodded his good-bye to me.

“I’ll be in touch,” Roy said. “Keep a low profile.” He nodded to Brad while slipping the USB key into the front pocket of his jeans. He spit out a toothpick, slid in another, and then left.

I watched my future vanish into the crowd, while I’m sure all Brad saw was a black aura moving steadily away.

A woman emerged from the cover of a store entrance about fifty yards down the street and fell into step with Roy. She kept her back to me, but her long, dirty-brown hair swayed across her back in familiar fashion. I could tell who it was just by her gait.

I stood quickly and raced down the street calling her name: “Lily! Lily!”

I wanted her to contact Anna. I wanted some closure. Anna would hold onto hope as long as she had a finger-width of ledge space to grasp. Lily owed her some sort of explanation, a simple good-bye, something about a change of heart, anything that would allow Anna to let go so she could move on. So we could move on together. I called out Lily’s name, but the woman down the street never looked back. They turned the corner and vanished from my view. When I reached the same corner, breathless, hands on my knees, panting from the short sprint, I looked in every direction, but Roy and Lily were gone.