Project Northwest (25 page)

“What took you so long?”

Silence.

Mr. Wright was on edge and was quickly
becoming unhinged when he heard Mr. Spain mocking them. He picked
up his cell phone and was about to dial when Cricket stated there
was a call already coming in to Spain’s phone.

“Who’s it from?”

“It’s a number from the bank central office
trunks, someone on the inside of the bank.”

“Let’s listen.”

Wright and Cricket listened as Mr. Stone
notified Mr. Spain on what was going on.

“If Spain doesn’t get in there in time, I’m
going to consider this strike four.”

Wright settled into his chair as he listened
to the detective from inside the conference room. Good boy, James,
he kept repeating to himself.

“Cricket, how lucky is it the conference
rooms are outside the data room security check? With Mr. Spain’s
cell phone in place, we had a seat at the table.”

“Sir, I think that was very close, too close.
Mr. DuVall, although admittedly out of his league, almost fucked
us.”

“Yes, I agree. That was a little sloppier
than I would’ve liked. We’re getting too comfortable. What the hell
was going on with Mr. Wrong? However, you heard Miss Spenser and
Mr. Spain afterwards. This certainly got their attention, so all is
not lost. But you’re right, let’s buckle down on all of our
procedures and double check all of our tracks.”

Cricket was deeply concerned. This caused a
number of problems from his surveillance point of view. “Sir, you
know bank security is going to go into high gear now. Should we
pull the mics in DuVall’s office?”

“Already did, Cricket. I appreciate your
input, but let’s not push the line of insolence, shall we. What the
hell is going on here? I’ve got you second guessing me and Mr.
Wrong afraid of a five foot three psychic. You do your job and I’ll
do mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Start the background on Detective McCoy. I
want to know his pressure points by the end of the evening. And
bring up the accounts. Let’s see if our client is moving the
money.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cricket logged into the Cayman accounts. The
larger payment of 25 million dollars had been transferred in the
contract account. The 5 million dollar transfer was in progress to
the expense account. He decided to hold on to the little tidbit of
information. He could almost reach out and touch the blue water,
smell the sea salt, and hear the crashing waves on his screen
saver.

Chapter
Nineteen

~ Mark Becomes a Better Man
~

Mark fired up his
laptop in the hotel room and went online. He found the original
sales blueprint for James’s condominium on 8th Street. The condo
was designed to be a multi-use tower with 18 stories in total. The
first floor was to be the lobby of a luxury hotel, the next three
floors were hotel rooms and floors four through eighteen were
investment condos. Floors four through sixteen were mirror images
of one another while the top two floors were penthouse
condos.

He then searched for the Comcast Cable
Company’s uniform—they wore a black baseball cap with a grayish-tan
collared polo shirt. Finally, he searched and found a uniform store
in Tukwila that had a combination that would work.

Mark had been in the private investigation
business for almost four years and the cable man was his favorite
cover, he already had the patches, the logos, the tool belt
accented with the proper tool set and the metal clipboard to hold
the fake work order.

He knew the most important part of this ruse
was to act like you belonged. He’d taken advantage of the
trustworthiness of people many times. If you acted like you
belonged, most people wouldn’t give you a second look. His second
personal rule of the cable man ruse – avoid senior citizens. They
were always nosy and suspicious, while young people rarely
questioned anything.

He checked his cell phone while printing each
condo floor plan from the website. The printer was far behind as
the print queue built a map of an entire building. He had two
messages. The first message said:

“Hi, Mark, this is Kara from the post office.
Just calling to make sure we are still on for tonight.” He was
about to delete it when he had second thoughts and decided to man
up. She was going to think he was an asshole, no matter what he
did, but why have her think about it all day? Uncertainty was a
cruel state to keep someone in—it was the right thing to do and he
pressed four to call her back.

“Hello,” Kara answered.

“Hi Kara, this is Mark. I’m sorry, but I will
not be able to take you out tonight. Truth of the matter is I met
someone else.” Nothing but silence. He moved the phone to view the
display, making sure she hadn’t hung up. They were still connected.
He brought it back to his ear. “I thought it was best to tell
–”

Kara interrupted, “It’s okay, I’m glad you
called. You could’ve left me hanging. I mean, what if you hadn’t
called and Mr. Right walks in. I wouldn’t have given him a second
look because I was waiting on you, so thanks for your honesty. One
thing, though.”

“Sure,” said Mark.

“How did you know it was a chemistry
set?”

“The old lady’s purse was open and I saw her
to-do list.”

“Ah, very clever. Take care.”

“Thanks for understanding, take care.”

He listened to the second message, it was
from Tina. “Hi, baby, give me a call back and say something sweet
to me. It can even be a little dirty. I just want to hear your
voice.” He hung up and scratched his head.

This was new territory. He prided himself in
being smooth and had quick, flattering lines that would fit any
situation and no shame. Her request was completely different, it
would be remembered forever as a sweet keepsake or as a complete
flop and, even though she didn’t say it, he knew the clock was
ticking. The clock is always ticking in relationships. He opened
Word on his laptop and started writing. After four rewrites, he
felt he had something. It was true and from his heart, so how bad
could it be?

He called Tina and after four rings he was
rerouted to her voicemail.

“Hey baby, you put me on the spot, but I
think you’ll think this is sweet,” he paused, his nervousness
getting the best of him, he took a deep breath, reminded himself to
speak slowly and started. “I want to taste your lips, savor your
exhaling breath as the world around us evaporates. I want to
experience it all with my mouth and heart and let it, all of it,
linger heavy on my tongue and mix with three little words, I love
you.” He hung up and felt he did well. He hadn’t been that nervous
since he was thirteen.

A couple of minutes later, his cell phone
buzzed and he answered, “Hi, baby.”

“That was beautiful. You know I’m keeping it
forever, right?”

“I know. So you thought it was good?”

“I did and so does Tanya.”

“Tanya? Oh, baby, don’t let anyone else
listen to it. It’s private.”

“I won’t, just her.” They both knew it was a
lie. “When are you coming back?”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer. Maybe a
couple more days. In fact I’m getting ready to head out the door
now.”

“Okay, love you. Be careful.”

“Love you, too. I will.”

He rolled up the makeshift map of James’s
building, ripped the directions to the uniform store from the
hotel’s notepad, and headed out the door thinking he, in some way,
had become a better man today.

At 1 P.M. he was on 8th street, pulling into
the condo’s parking lot.

He looked for any black SUV vehicles and one,
a black Tahoe parked on the east side of the building in the
parking spot reserved for 503, was a perfect match to James’s
description. He wrote down the tag number and VIN. He continued
around to the north parking lot and found the space for 602. You
couldn’t see one parking space from the other.

He parked his Explorer on 8th Street, opened
the back and after super-gluing the proper logos, he was dressed as
a passable Comcast tech complete with tool belt. He secured the
fake magnetic license plate over the real one, placed the magnetic
signs labeled ‘Cable Contractor’ on the driver and passenger doors,
collected the clipboard, the flashlight from the passenger’s seat,
and rounded the condo on foot.

He found the green cable box first, then the
utility room nearby. He jimmied the lock and quickly entered,
turned on the flashlight and compared the power meters, just as
expected, 503 was on the move while the others moved at a snail’s
pace. He left the room and was back on the sidewalk when he heard
someone yelling, “Hey! Hey, you!”

Mark ignored him and walked faster towards
his truck. He quickly opened the driver’s door and saw the guy in a
black suit and white shirt running toward the vehicle screaming,
“Hey, stop!” Mark recognized him from the picture. There he was,
William P. Wright, in the flesh.

Mark turned the ignition and floored it.

Mr. Wright was close enough to punch the back
quarter panel as Mark sped away. He saw him writing down his tag
information and thought,
Good luck with that.
He laughed
quietly as he thought of the tag number, WUK 866, it stood for
‘Wish You Knew’ and the 866 was a reference to a toll-free number.
Any look-up would lead them nowhere. But this also brought up a
problem. Mr. Wright was a professional and would know something was
up when the tag came back empty.

He made a right onto Pike St, a left onto
Terry, found fifth, and soon pulled into the parking lot of the
Seattle Police Department Headquarters. He quickly got out, removed
the fake license plate, the magnetic signs, and changed his shirt,
it was 2:18 P.M. and he was waiting for Aaron to get home from
school. He usually walked in around 2:45 PM.

He dialed Aaron’s cell number.

“Hey bud, are you home?”

“Yep, just walking through the door. What’s
up? Are you coming home soon?”

“Hopefully, listen I need your help, your
computer knowhow with this case I’m working on. Now you can’t tell
your Mom about any of this, agreed?”

Aaron was intrigued and could barely hide his
excitement. “Sure.”

“My client’s phone and ISP are being tapped
or somehow monitored. I know they are doing it wirelessly. How can
I get onto their network?”

“Hmm, well they’re probably using WLAN with
WPA and if they are monitoring, then you could map the
connections.”

“WLAN, like Wireless Local Area Network?”
James asked, pulling information from parts of his brain he hadn’t
used in years.

“Yes, exactly, wireless is nothing special
really. Just as you could trace physical connections on a LAN, you
can map connections on wireless. I mean, if they are connected to
his network, you will see who’s connected and you can use that as a
start to connect to theirs, right? Do you think they are using
remote desktop?”

“I don’t think so. They are sophisticated. I
doubt they would use a remote connection client. What’s WPA? What
if I wanted to connect to them secretly, where they can’t see that
I’m trying to connect?”

“WPA, that’s Wi–Fi Protection Access, but if
they’re trying to hide, then they most likely have their router set
to invisible mode. It prevents others from scanning to gain
access.”

“So I probably can’t find it then?”

“Didn’t say that, Mark. I can maybe get you
in. Do you know the IP address of your client? That’s where you
would start.”

“No, I don’t and I’m afraid if I try to get
it, I’ll tip them off.”

“Okay, not a problem if—” Aaron paused
thinking of the best way to get the IP. Mark could tell from the
background noise Aaron had switched to speakerphone and was turning
on his servers.

“If what?” Mark pressed.

“Have you received an email from the client
from that network, his network?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Forward it to my address, unmodified and
I’ll see if I can glean the IP received from the message envelope.
Try to find one with an attachment.”

“Okay, will do, as soon as I get back to the
hotel. How is everything?”

“Everything is good. I’m looking forward to
the Expo.”

“Me, too. I will give you a call later, in
about half an hour. Remember, don’t tell your Mom you’re helping
me, she’d flip.”

“I know, I know.”

The coast was clear and Mark drove back to
the hotel, all along checking his rear-view and side-view
mirrors.

* * * *

Just as Wright was calming down, Cricket
announced, “Sir, we have an intrusion alarm on the utility room
downstairs.”

“What the hell is going on here? Cricket stay
here, I’m going down to see who it is.”

Wright was winded when he radioed back,
“Cricket run a tag on a Ford Explorer, looks like an ‘06 or ‘07
model, tag number WUK dash eight six six. I think we have a
tail.”

* * * *

Back at the hotel, Mark fired up the laptop
and did a quick search on the Tahoe tag number. He expected the
results page to show registered in White Plains, New York and it
did. He’d already performed the business search before with the
GMC, but did it again on the Tahoe just to be sure. The Tahoe also
appeared to be the property of ESP Sphere, but a quick traffic
search showed the Tahoe had four outstanding tickets in the Seattle
area.

He called Tina.

“Hey, baby,” she answered.

“Hi, listen I’m pressed for time, but I need
a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Do you know anyone on the police force here
in Seattle?”

“Not really, why?”

“Damn, I need to see if a vehicle has been
slated for a tow.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t need to know someone. Our
systems, California’s, Oregon’s, Washington’s, Nevada’s, and
Colorado’s are all linked. Do you have the tag number?”