Havoc (2 page)

CHAPTER 5

Brian McFarland stepped out of the Seattle airport into a gloomy afternoon drizzle and caught a cab. After providing his destination to the driver and settling into the backseat, he wondered what sort of sales pitch would be needed to bring his contact out of retirement.

Successfully resolving this security breach represented a make-or-break crossroads for McFarland—not just for this job but for the future direction of his life.

McFarland’s alcoholic father had insisted Brian would never amount to anything, probably as a way of deflecting attention away from his own squandered years. For the most part, the hardscrabble Bronx neighborhood in which McFarland grew up had provided equally poor preparation for a life of success. But Mrs. Rayborne, his junior-year Information Technologies instructor, had observed a latent talent in McFarland that other teachers had missed and had encouraged him to pursue a degree in software design. It was her belief in his capacity to succeed, more than her skills as an instructor, that had lit the fires of McFarland’s motivation. He had sailed through a Bachelor’s degree with honors and landed a promising job as a designer of electronic security for the east-coast, US headquarters of Janz Bank, a European multinational. In the space of three years, he had risen to lead the electronic-security department.

But McFarland’s promising career had nearly imploded after hackers broke through the bank’s firewall, stealing thousands of customer records. McFarland had known the root cause of the problem lay with the Bank’s archaic domain-protection code, an aging piece of software in dire need of an upgrade. He had repeatedly warned the Board of Directors of this vulnerability but had been denied the upgrade due to an “insufficient IT budget.” After the breach, however, the company had needed a scapegoat, and McFarland was promptly served up for slaughter. After that travesty, he had spent fruitless months searching for another job in the IT security industry, eventually taking a bookkeeping position out of desperation to pay the bills.

After months of searching, McFarland had spotted the opening at Vidulum. As a high-tech startup, its management team consisted of engineers, not marketers ignorant of the technical intricacies of their business. For the first time, McFarland could explain the Janz Bank disaster to a hiring manager who spoke his language and understood his lack of culpability. He had gladly accepted the role of Vidulum’s Chief of Security, a job which offered a chance to redeem himself with a fresh start in a new location.

Yet McFarland realized a cloud remained over his head. Doubts would always linger regarding the exact role he had played in the Janz Bank breach. This new Vidulum crisis did little to put those doubts to rest. He knew he had to successfully recover the files, or his career as a firewall security expert would be over for good.

The cab pulled into a nondescript strip mall. After paying the fare, McFarland held a worn briefcase over his head to shield his pale, Scottish features and auburn hair from the rain. He hurried towards Fabrizio’s Café, stepped inside, and wiped his feet.

“Table for one, sir?” asked the hostess.

“Thanks, but the person I’m meeting is already here.”

McFarland threaded his way to the restaurant’s back wall and slid across the red, tattered vinyl covering the booth’s empty seat.

“Thanks for meeting me,” said McFarland.

“Long time no talk,” replied his contact, a man whose boyish charm belied years of experience plying his chosen profession. “I haven’t seen you since the Bronx days.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while, but I’ve heard about your career.”

The contact scowled. “How much have you heard, exactly?”

“Just rumors. You can’t expect to build up your kind of expertise without word getting around. Speaking of that…how you’d like a little new work?”

“Sorry—I’m retired now.”

“The money is good.”

“If I was in need of money, I’d still be in the game. The money I already have won’t do me no good if I’m in prison.”

“Look,” said McFarland, “I’ll be honest. My ass is on the line. I’m head of security for a high-tech startup in Silicon Valley. Two days ago, we had a security breach. Some highly-sensitive files were stolen, and if I don’t get them back, my career is over—not just at my current job, but anywhere.”

“I don’t know…”

“I really don’t want to be waiting tables until I’m eighty. You can help me out. I know you can. How about this one last job—for the sake of an old friend?”

The contact remained silent for a full thirty seconds as he stirred his coffee with a dingy teaspoon. “Try the lasagna. It’s delicious. And in the meantime, give me all the details of your break-in.”

McFarland couldn’t suppress a grin of immeasurable relief. “I knew I could count on you. I’ve copied all the information you’ll need onto this flash drive…”

CHAPTER 6

At Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport, Alton and Mallory collected their luggage and queued up in the taxi line.

Mallory glanced at the couple in line behind her. “Hi! Weren’t you all just on the flight from Washington?”

“Yes,” replied the man. “I’m guessing you were, too?”

“Yep,” replied the gregarious Mallory. “I noticed you a few rows ahead of us. This is our first time in Rome. How about you?”

“Our second,” replied the woman, a pretty blonde. “I’m Anna, by the way. And this is my husband Duncan.”

As they exchanged greetings, Alton and Mallory reached the front of the queue.

“What hotel are you all staying at?” asked Alton. “Perhaps we could share a cab.”

Duncan hesitated before answering. “We’re at the Hotel Imperiale.”

“Oh,” said Alton. “We’re at the Pantheon Royal Suite. I don’t know if they’re in the same area or not.”

“Is close,” interjected the cabby. “I take you two to Pantheon, then others to Imperiale.”

The travelers agreed. As they moved their luggage to the back of the cab, Duncan turned to Alton. “Want me to help you with that? It looks like you hurt your leg.”

“Thanks,” replied Alton, “but I’ve got it. This is an old injury.”

After boarding the cab, they set off for the heart of Rome.

Mallory leaned over to Anna. “We’re on vacation. How about you?”

“Yes. Duncan’s been working so hard the past few years, it was all I could do to convince him to take a break. I think the allure of returning to Rome is what finally convinced him to take a couple of weeks off. But I have to admit, I was a little surprised he agreed.”

“So you’ve been here before, huh?” said Alton. “I guess you liked it, or you wouldn’t be back.”

“Absolutely,” replied Duncan from the front seat. “The first time we came was for our honeymoon. And yes, I love Rome. It has an indefinable quality: the people…the history…the juxtaposition of old and new. It just draws you back.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s so romantic,” added Anna. “There’s something magical about this place that’s hard to put into words.”

The comment prompted Alton to check the interior pocket of his jacket for the fourth time since disembarking from the plane. The ring was still there, of course. He knew he was being paranoid but couldn’t help it.

“So this is like a second honeymoon for you?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Anna. “We’re excited to be here. What about you all? You’re not on your honeymoon, are you?”

“No, we’re not married,” said Alton, feeling his face becoming a little warm.

“So, how did you all end up here?” asked Anna.

“Well, Mallory and I served together in the Army in Afghanistan for about a year. Before that, I had been working in the desert near Gazib when an insurgent detonated an IED inside the mobile communications van I commanded.” Alton turned to Duncan. “That’s how I acquired the limp you noticed earlier.”

“Wow—I’m so sorry,” said Anna.

“Well, it had a happy ending,” said Alton. “During my recovery, my commander assigned me to a desk job in Camp Eggers in Kabul. That’s how Mallory and I met. Eventually, we both left the Army and now work in the Washington area. We’ve been dating about a year now and thought a vacation here in Rome would be fun.”

Alton declined to provide any more details to his new acquaintances. After he and Mallory had befriended one another in Afghanistan, the feelings of both had evolved into love, but neither had been aware of the other’s true feelings. Alton had left the Army to work for Kruptos. Half a year later, Mallory had taken a job with the FBI in Washington. Zack Lambert, one of Alton’s former soldiers who also worked at Kruptos, had left for a weekend camping trip but died in the woods under unusual circumstances. Alton had called Mallory to ask for her help looking into Zach’s mysterious death. At the conclusion of the investigation, they had discovered each other’s true feelings and had dated ever since. Between their combat time in Afghanistan, the Zack Lambert investigation, and two additional cases since then, each had saved the life of the other more than once, leading to a deeper personal bond than might have been expected from a dating couple.

“That’s a sweet story,” said Anna.

“What about you all?” asked Mallory. “How did you meet?”

“I’m afraid our story isn’t as interesting,” said Anna. “We met in college and hung out with the same circle of friends. After a while, we started dating. One thing led to another, and now here we are, too.”

“That’s cool,” said Mallory. “How long have you been married?”

“Almost eleven years,” said Duncan.

“Nice,” said Alton. “So, since this is your second trip, do you have any advice for newbies like us? Not that we don’t already have a lot planned, but it’s always good to hear from folks with experience.”

“Gosh, it’s all good, as far as I’m concerned,” replied Anna. “Just stay away from the tourist-trap restaurants.”

Duncan furrowed his brow in concentration. “You know, one stop I really enjoyed last time was this al fresco dining right near the Colosseum: traditional Italian dinner…a carafe of Chianti…music, all with the illuminated Colosseum in the background. It’s a little touristy, but hey, that’s what we came here for, right?”

“It sounds divine,” said Mallory. “Do you remember the name of the restaurant?”

“Yeah, we’re going back during this trip,” replied Duncan, tapping his phone. “I have it right here on our itinerary. It’s called ‘Naumachia.’”

As Mallory typed the name into her phone, the taxi pulled to a stop.

“Is Pantheon Royal Suite,” said the driver. “I help you with your luggage.”

After bidding adieux to their traveling partners, Alton and Mallory made their way to the check-in line at the hotel’s front desk.

“So what do you think?” asked Mallory. “Want to have dinner at Naumachia while we’re here?”

“Yeah—it sounds terrific,” replied Alton. “We’re here to have a nice, fun time together. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say yes.”

Alton and Mallory completed their check-in, then made a beeline for their hotel room. A vase of fresh flowers and a uniform white hue on the walls and minimalist comforters imbued the room with a cheerful air, despite its small dimensions.

On the room’s small work desk rested a tastefully-decorated basket of fruit, a bottle of champagne on ice, and a pair of champagne flutes.

“What’s this?” asked Alton.

“You’re not the only one who can surprise people, you know,” replied Mallory with a grin. “It’s my ‘welcome-to-Italy’ present.”

Alton smiled and wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks, Honey.”

They walked to the window and pulled open the curtains to reveal a breathtaking vista of the historic Piazza della Rotonda, a paved courtyard surrounded by shops, buildings, and al-fresco dining, all fronting the famous Pantheon. A 300-year-old Egyptian obelisk stood almost directly outside their window. All was exactly as Alton had hoped. He laid his arm across Mallory’s shoulders, pulling her close.

“I see you reserved double beds,” observed Mallory.

“Yeah,” said Alton with a shrug and crooked smile.

Not long after he and Mallory had started dating, Alton had countered his biological urgings by suggesting abstinence, believing it to be the only proper course for a man claiming to be worthy of his companion’s love. Mallory had agreed with the arrangement, but they had both struggled to maintain it—Alton certainly had, at least.

In truth, Alton’s abstinence was also born of an unspoken anxiety. His combat injury had not only rendered him lame. It had also limited his range of motion and still sent frequent bolts of pain coursing throughout his leg during many physical activities. He remained uncertain how these limitations would affect his carnal performance—and how Mallory would react to those limitations. This fear had also served to hold him in check.

Now, as Alton gazed upon his lovely companion, whose features were rendered even more beautiful by the late-morning sunbeams pouring through the window, he felt thankful this trip would, hopefully, move them closer to the time when their pact would no longer be necessary. The discipline required to maintain it grew more difficult each day.

“You wouldn’t have me take advantage of you here, would you?” he countered. “Not when you’re a captive audience like this?”

“I don’t know, Sweetie. I think you could talk me into just about anything right now.”

He swallowed. “Um…I’m not sure if the shower has hot water, but at this moment, I don’t care. I think a cold one is just what I need.”

Mallory threw back her head and laughed. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed into a brief kiss, then separated. “Well, speaking of showers, I could use one after that long flight. I won’t be long.” Her feet made no sound as she glided across the bathroom’s marble tiles and shut the door.

I think you could talk me into just about anything right now.
Alton wished Mallory wouldn’t make cracks like that. Her allure was difficult enough to resist without the weight of such additional temptation.

Alton’s pulse had accelerated at the remark and continued to race. From the window at the far end of the room, he paced to the room’s entrance and returned, running a hand through his hair.

“Forgot to get a change of clothes,” said Mallory as she emerged from the bathroom, now wearing only a towel. Gathering a few items from her suitcase, she returned to the bathroom, and Alton resumed his pacing.

As he headed to the room’s entrance for the third time, Alton surprised himself by making a sudden turn, pushing open the bathroom door and stepping inside. Through the warm, humid mists rising in billows around the room, he could discern Mallory’s nude body. She seemed a paragon of beauty, the type over which Italy’s Renaissance artists surely would have fought for the right to immortalize.

Mallory had just started to lather herself and looked up. A loofa fell from her hand. Her countenance registered utter astonishment, but she made no movement.

Alton gazed into her bewitching eyes, knowing no words were necessary to tell her that which his own eyes revealed. With a determined set in his jaw, he peeled off his shirt, then unfastened his jeans and let them drop to the floor. He could not discern whether his warmth arose from the shower’s steam or from the imminent release of desires held so long at bay.

For the first time, Mallory moved, inhaling a deep breath and slowly releasing it. Alton stepped into the shower with her. Pouring body wash onto his hands, he began to run them over her body, sending an erotic shiver up her back. As he slid his hands over her shoulders, he leaned forward to kiss her neck.

“Oh, God. Alton…”

He continued to move his hands around her body, eliciting moans of passion from his impromptu lover as he worked his way downward. As he reached her lower thighs, Mallory laid her hand on his.

“And now you,” she said, picking up the body wash and forming a lather.

She began by making circles on his shoulders. As she made her way down the landscape of his chest, Alton’s skin radiated with white-hot electricity. Mallory covered his body with equal thoroughness, lingering in ways designed to confer greater pleasure.

As Mallory finished, Alton gazed into her eyes, the depths of which seemed more impossible to measure than ever before.

“I love you,” he said, “more than I could have ever imagined loving anyone.”

“And I love you, too,” replied Mallory, draping her arms around his neck, “so much.”

They allowed the shower to rinse the soap from their bodies. Turning off the water, Alton took Mallory in his arms and tenderly carried her from the bathroom, careful to keep her weight—slight though it was—centered in front of him to avoid triggering discomfort in his injured leg. Leaning over to place her on the bed, though, he couldn’t suppress a grimace as the awkward angle sent a bolt of pain shooting down the limb.

“Are you all right?” asked Mallory with a look of concern.

“The best I’ve ever been.”

Alton had no way of knowing if he would soon discover another physical deficiency resulting from the explosion that had rendered him permanently lame. Having no time for rational thought, though, he no longer cared. His entire attention was riveted on the ineffable beauty before him.

Alton lay down beside Mallory. Sweeping her dripping, raven tresses behind her ears, he rested a hand on her cheek and gently kissed her. Grasping her face in both hands, he kissed her again, harder. She returned the passion of his kiss, prompting Alton to shift on top of her. As their bodies joined, time stopped, and Alton felt the thrill of experiencing one of the most exquisite pinnacles this life has to offer.

As waves of desire coursed through his body, Alton felt no pain, only ecstasy. His mind could focus only on the passion of the moment. He had no idea how long they remained coupled or how many times they climaxed together. Their bodies surged in glorious unison until physical exhaustion began to set in. After a sigh of contentment from Mallory, they finally disentangled.

Alton lay on his back, while Mallory rested beside him, a hand upon his chest and a leg draped over his thigh.