Worst Date Ever (Scandals #3) (6 page)

“Malware is just a term for malicious software and it alters how your computer operates while gathering sensitive information, then routes it to the deep internet.”

“And the deep internet?” Dallas asked.

“It’s a lot more complicated,” I started out.  “Think of the internet, only twenty times bigger and almost impossible for the average person to access or understand.  The dirtiest, most illegal transactions happen there…things like murder for hire, child porn and human sex slaves.  It’s also the place where identities can be bought and sold.”

“Wow…no shit?” Even Reno was disturbed, and he was probably the most worldly of us all.

“No shit.  This goes somewhere really bad and starts at our client’s work station,” I said, then repeated for emphasis.  “
Michael’s
work station.”

“Deep internet?” Dallas was surfing for information on his cell phone.

“Let it go, Dallas,” I told him.  “Or the next drone you see might be from the FBI or Homeland Security.”

“Darius mentioned something about all that when I was there trying to help him with the identity thefts,” Christopher said.  “But I had no idea what he was talking about.  Scandals didn’t have a computer expert back then to explain it to me.  I kind of understand it now.  But how can they hide so well?”

“It’s like walking down an alley at night in Iraq.  You never know who or what you’re going to find, then five minutes later, all trace of them is gone.  There are no rules and nothing is like it seems.”  I was sure none of them understood just how bad it was…or how dangerous. “Buying and selling identities?  That’s nothing.  Prescription drugs, approved by the FDA or not, illegal drugs like LSD, every kind of assault rifle any military is using, hit men, sex slaves, child porn…all going on as we speak.”

“Sex slaves?” Killeen asked with horror.

“Mostly young girls but plenty of boys.  I did some checking.  Assassins are running $10,000 to $15,000 unless their targets are well known or if you want something other than a ‘suicide’ or ‘death by natural causes’…apparently, suffering is extra.”  I tried not to show any emotion even though the thought of what these animals were capable of made me sick to my stomach.

“Can’t they catch them?  I mean isn’t the government spending billions to stop this?” Dallas asked.

“It’s a matrix of encrypted websites that allows users to surf beneath the regular internet with complete anonymity.  And just like those sites that constantly change your password, the deep net reroutes and reassigns IP addresses every few seconds so no one can find where the searches are originating or even where they’re going.”

“Can’t they stop it?”  Killeen asked.

“In late 2012, Homeland Security, the FBI and the Postal Service shut the
Silk Road
servers down but there wasn’t much money.  Payments are usually in bitcoins which can’t be traced.  Now that the Department of Defense is on it, there will be a lot more focus on national security and not so much on personal issues.  Whoever we’re looking for that hacked Linked isn’t a major player.  But they’re good enough to make a mess.”

“Sounds like something that will become a recurring problem…and increase our client base, especially if we become the experts.” Dallas was thinking out loud.

“Pain and suffering is a money maker…one of Roger’s Rules, guys,” Christopher said.

“That seems so brutal and mean.  Like we’re taking advantage of people,” Liberty commented with a frown.

“Saving my sister was mean?” Jenny asked.

“Or helping Michael defend himself for murder and identity theft is mean?” I asked.

Christopher jumped in.  “Roger would always say we never fire the bullet, steal the money or screw the neighbor’s wife.  We just find out who did.  That’s helping people, not taking advantage of them.”  Christopher nodded toward Dallas.  “We had a meeting with Gerald McClinton.  He was the lead investigator for Michael’s
Lone Star Business Mutual
insurance case. He didn’t explain it as well as Tulsa did, but he did say that it appeared the breech was made through Michael’s terminal.  However, they couldn’t actually find anything on his computer to positively accuse him. There was no sign of any money being transferred or unexplained income.”

“Their excuse is that they rely on their clients to operate in a professionally responsible manner and employ state-of-the-art-technology and management controls in their processes,” Dallas added.

“How do they know it didn’t originate in North Korea like that Sony hacking?” Reno asked.

“They don’t,” Dallas agreed.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” I commented.  “Michael already had his clients’ personal information.  Surely, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to sell it.  It’s too obvious…and completely illogical.”

“I think the insurance company must have agreed. They couldn’t prove anything.  They’re still negotiating the claims.”

“Dinner’s ready,” John called, and we all jumped up to fill our plates.

We continued to talk about the case as we worked our way through the pile of food. I had never eaten as much or as well as I had since I took a chance and used the airline ticket Harlan Gooding, the lawyer handling Roger’s estate, gave me when he caught me after class almost two months ago.  At first, I thought he was some kind of salesman, trying to trick me into buying something I didn’t need…like life insurance or a vacuum cleaner.  Even after he assured me it was a legitimate search for heirs, I thought it was a hoax. 

I don’t know why I’d actually gotten on the plane that day.  Maybe it was because I had never been out of Oklahoma and the thought of a mini-vacation held some appeal.  More likely, it was because I couldn’t resist any chance of discovering my ancestry, even though it was a long shot.  As it turned out, it was the best decision of my life.  These people sitting around this table were my family…family I never knew I had, but always wanted.  I couldn’t count the number of nights I had cried myself to sleep, wishing the bedroom I was in was my own and the parents down the hall loved me and wanted me. 

Okay, so I still didn’t have the parents down the hall, but I had my very own freakin’ awesome room.  All the bedrooms in the mansion, and I honestly didn’t know how many there were, had been decorated to honor a famous musician or band.  Mine was filled with Ozzie Osborne memorabilia and decorated in shades of gray and black, which suited me perfectly.

Of course, our stay at the mansion might be temporary because it hadn’t been part of the estate we inherited.  It was owned by Nigel St. James, a rock star who leased it to our father for a dollar a year because they were old friends.  We hadn’t felt very secure here until we did a huge favor for Nigel by avenging his daughter’s rape.  As payment, he told us we could continue to live here for as long as we wanted…which I hoped would be forever.  It was the first real home I’d ever had.

“Earth to Tulsa.”  Liberty’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up to see everyone staring at me.  “What did I miss?”

“Why didn’t you tell us about the phone call this afternoon?” Christopher asked with a frown.

“I was going to after everyone else gave their reports.”

“Did they really threaten you?” Killeen asked.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pants’ pocket.  “All my calls are automatically recorded.”  I hit the playback on my app.
“Hello Tulsa.  I’ve been following you today. I suggest you tell Christopher you’re going to resign from this case.  They are all waiting for you at the lake house right now.  Trust me…your life depends on it.”

“What the fuck, Tulsa?  He disguised his voice?” Dallas asked.

“No.  It’s one of those text-to-speech websites, so it’s untraceable…as is the cellphone used.”

“How did they find you?” Killeen wondered aloud.

“I don’t know.  Apparently, they knew about our meeting with Darius and the really creepy part, beside the voice, is they knew we were heading home and that you all were here.”

“Could he have hacked your cell phone?”  Reno asked.

“That would be my guess.  I’m going to update the protective scheme on our phones and also make sure no one has downloaded a BOT that can spoof our GPS locations and send them out to whoever is tracking us.”

Dallas scooted his chair back and placed his cell phone on the table.  “This is freaking me out.”

“It should,” I told him bluntly.  This was not something that should be sugar-coated.  “They not only know our locations, but they can also make our phones look like they’re somewhere else and even make calls from them.”

“Like Michael’s text to Tamara,” Christopher concluded.

“Exactly.”  I nodded.

“You thinking about dropping off the case?” Killeen asked.  “They sounded pretty serious.”

The thought never crossed my mind.  “No way.  I love challenges.  We’re not going to let this guy get away with this.  Right Liberty?”

“Right!”  Her response was quick, but her eyes were worried.  It was clear that the voice had unnerved her.  And yet she trusted me.

I just hoped I could live up to that trust…and not get us both killed.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Welcome to my home.” Michael smiled as Liberty and I exited the penthouse elevator directly into the Linked office foyer.

“I guess we can say welcome home to you, too,” I commented dryly.

He burst out laughing, then grabbed his ribs and groaned.  “Don’t make me laugh.  It hurts too much.”

He held up his arms that were one big raw scrape from wrists to elbows.  “I left about five pounds of skin on your parking lot.  And my ribs are wrapped.  I’m a mess.”

He did look pretty beat up.  He had a butterfly bandage over a couple of stitches on his forehead and bruises on his chin and left cheek. 

“All that will heal,” Liberty spoke up.  “But I’ll bet your heart is broken about Tamara.”

His shoulders drooped, and his expression was so sad it took away all my doubts about whether or not he’d been in love with her.

An attractive woman entered the lobby from the hallway that led to Michael’s private residence. I was just about to withdraw my vote of confidence for Michael when he introduced her. 

“Ladies, this is Kimberly.”

“Hi Kimberly,” Liberty smiled.  “You work for Michael?”

“Oh dear no.  I’m just an old family friend”

“One of his clients?” I couldn’t resist asking.

She held up her left hand and flashed an impressive wedding ring.  “I married my college sweetheart,” she told me, then smiled.  “Actually, Michael’s one of
my
clients.”  She took some business cards out of her pocket and handed them to Liberty and me.  They were shaped like a ripe tomato and had the words “
Hot Tomato Catering
” printed on them along with her phone number.   “Michael can’t boil water, so I bring him at least one healthy meal a day.  And I cater his business meetings and dinners.  I’m making a run to the grocery store, so be thinking of your favorite lunch.”

I wasn’t sure if she was including us in that invitation, so I stayed silent.

“Can I get you some coffee?  I brought croissants, too,” she told us.  “I baked them this morning.”

I immediately warmed to her.  Anyone who could bake croissants passed my litmus test.  “Sure, I’ll take coffee…black.”

“Me too, but with sugar and milk,” Liberty said.

Kimberly didn’t wait to hear from Michael, but disappeared back down the hall toward what I assumed was probably a gourmet kitchen.  I wouldn’t expect anything less from Michael, even though he couldn’t cook.

“Couldn’t do without her,” Michael told us.  “The business runs on the ideas that result from the calories we consume.”

“Back on The Farm everything we ate was fresh.  I think that makes a difference,” Liberty said.

Michael nodded.  “Yes, that’s right.  I insist that everything’s both fresh and organic.  I haven’t gone gluten-free yet.”

“Me either,” Liberty agreed. “I like fresh bread and biscuits and pancakes too much.”

Kimberly returned with a tray that had three cups, a large carafe of steaming coffee, a bowl of raw sugar packets, a small pitcher of milk, a platter heaped with beautiful flaky croissants and extra plates for each of us. “Do you want me to pour?” she asked.

“No, just leave it on the table,” Michael told her.  “We can serve ourselves.”

“How about grilled chicken Caesar salads for lunch?”

Michael looked at us and we both nodded.  “Sounds good.”

Kimberly set the tray on a table, picked up her purse and left in the elevator.

We swarmed the tray, and with a plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Michael led the way to the conference room.

“Let’s sit down and you can get me up to speed.” Michael set his food at the head of the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.  Liberty and I sat on each side of him.

The croissants were amazing, and even though I meant to take a couple bites, then get on with my report, I didn’t stop eating until it was completely gone.  I was definitely going to recommend the Hot Tomato for Scandals’ next meeting.  I resisted the urge to lick my fingers and used a napkin to clean my hands before reaching for my backpack.  I pulled out my laptop and the notes I had made last night while I was going over the reports Darius had given me.

Michael slid a thick notebook in front of him.  It had been sitting on the table when we came into the room.  He flipped it open and I saw that it contained pages of handwritten passages, sort of in diary format with daily entries.

He noticed my own tablet filled with my scrawled remarks.  “That’s old school.  Hardly anyone actually writes things out any more.”

“It helps me organize my thoughts, plus I don’t like to flip back and forth when I’m looking at a document on my laptop,” I explained.

“I go through a journal every couple months or so.  It’s a habit I got into in college when I was daydreaming in class.  I even keep one on my nightstand…best ideas come at night.”

“I know,” I said.  “Do you ever wake up in the morning and see you’ve written something, and you don’t remember doing it?”

He chuckled.  “All the time, but it’s directly correlated with the amount of booze the night before usually.  Anyway…fill me in.”

“I really need to look at yours and Tamara’s cell phones.  If someone spoofed your phones it would be easy to make it appear like your phone sent her phone a text without you ever touching it.  We can follow the pings on the cell towers, but that likely won’t help because it will have bounced off your phone.  But we could get a break and find an irregularity.”

“I can ask my lawyer.”

“Christopher has a friend in the police department.  He’s going to try that first. He said the State of Texas is required to make cell phones available for a visual inspection and for drilling into the phone’s storage.  Of course, they’ll have a court appointed technical observer from the D.A.’s office that will watch me inspect the data, deleted records and run diagnostics.  They have to be sure I don’t tamper with the phones.”

“I’d like to go with you when you do it,” Michael said.

“They probably won’t allow that.  The way Christopher described it, we’ll be locked away in the police evidence room somewhere.”

“I guess I understand.”  Michael was clearly disappointed.

“Your attorney will probably be allowed to be there.”  I tried to make him feel better.  I could imagine how frustrating it must feel to be falsely accused of something and not be allowed to work on your own defense.  “I’ll let you know if you need to get your attorney involved.”

Michael scribbled a note in his book, then looked back at me.  “What if you can’t find anything on either cell phone?  What then?”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.”  I checked my notes.  “I know this is uncomfortable for you, but how did she die?  I mean, was there a weapon?  Drugs?  Drowning?”

“The police said she was stabbed with a knife from the set on the kitchen counter,” Michael explained with a grimace.  “The only prints on them were mine and Tamara’s.”

Could be a smart move if it was an outsider trying to frame Michael, or a really bad move if it was actually Michael acting in a moment of passion.

“Let’s talk about the identity theft issue.  What’s your opinion on how it happened and who was behind it?”

Michael went back toward the front of his journal.  “I put together a chronology of events as best as I could determine them.  I did this for the insurance company…lot of fucking good that did.”

“Give me what you have and Liberty and I’ll work with Darius on filling in the blanks.”

Michael nodded and pulled out a piece of paper and opened it.  He smiled at us. “You’re going to think I’m a little strange, but I keep this on a spreadsheet.  I studied management for years before I started this agency and a really famous management guru, Deming said,
You can't manage what you can't measure
.  But I’ve rearranged this chart every way but Sunday and still can’t figure it out.”

I slid a thumb drive across the table to Michael.  “Let me take a look at it.  Maybe something will pop out.” 

Michael’s raised eyebrow told me he was skeptical, but he grabbed the thumb drive.  “I’ll scan it and save it for you.  I have to admit that every time I run down the list, it just pisses me off.  Somebody’s fucking with my business and now my life.”  He took the spreadsheet and left the room.

“I feel sorry for him,” Liberty whispered.  “I think he’s innocent.”

Maybe I was more suspicious or less trusting, but I wasn’t ready to give him a pass just quite yet.  “We’ll do our best to prove that,” I promised, keeping my response intentionally vague.  But Liberty was pleased with my answer.

Michael returned and handed me my thumb drive which I plugged into one of the USB ports on my laptop.  I pulled the spreadsheet up and was impressed at its detail and sophistication.  This was the work of a man who had put a lot of thought into it.  The lines were divided into sections labeled
IDENTITY THEFT
,
PERSONAL THREATS
,
IT ISSUES
and
TAMARA
.  Each line had a unique number, an event description, date discovered and current disposition, along with an action plan of what needed to be done, by who and by when.

“Most of these action plans have your name on them,” I commented.  “Are you doing all of them by yourself?”

He nodded.  “So far.”

“And Darius?  Why isn’t he assigned to any of them?”

Michael drummed his fingers on the table top, measuring his answer before he spoke.  “Darius hasn’t seen this list, and I haven’t involved him because…” He stopped midsentence.

“You don’t trust him?”  Liberty intuitively jumped to the point.

“Stated a little rougher than I would have,” he admitted.  “But yes, I don’t know who to trust right now.”

“Is he here today?” I asked.

“He had an appointment to consult with some Dell Engineers in Round Rock this morning. I told him to take the rest of the day off. He was here until about four this morning installing improved security on the back-up servers.

“He sounds dedicated and seems to genuinely love working here, but I agree that no one should be above suspicion,” I said.  I inserted a new column on the spreadsheet.

“What?”  Michael stared at me as if I had kicked his dog.

“I added a section on cell phone issues.”

“Oh, that could go under Tamara, couldn’t it?”  Michael was reluctant for me to edit his precious spreadsheet.  Typical male.

“My cell phone was hacked yesterday after you called,” I explained.  “They knew we had been here and that we were headed home.”

“What?  How did they do that?”  The muscle in his jaw tensed and he straightened in his chair.

“Calm down.  It was my phone.”

“I
am
calm.”

“Right.  Your face is red, your pupils are dilated, and in another few minutes you’ll be pulling out your lip balm because your lips are dried out from breathing through your mouth.  You’re stressed big time, and you’re no good to us like that.”  I figured he needed a reality check if he was going to be of any help.  Besides, he was a lot more likely to do something stupid if he didn’t get control of his emotions.

“Wouldn’t you be?  I started this whole thing by myself and worked my butt off.  Things were just starting to come together, then some jerk decided to have some fun at my expense.  For the last year, everything that could go wrong has.  And now my girlfriend is dead, and I’ve been charged with murder!”  Michael pushed away from the table causing his chair to violently roll backward and slam against the floor-to-ceiling windows.  Liberty and I ducked simultaneously as we fully expected the glass to shatter. 

“Maybe we should leave,” Liberty whispered to me below the edge of the table.

I nodded, and she and I started to stand.

“Sit,” Michael commanded. “Just give me a minute.”  He raked his fingers down the side of his head until they reached the back of his neck which he started massaging.  After about a minute, he seemed to regain control and retrieved his chair.  He took a deep breath, sat and rejoined the meeting.

“Better?”  I asked.

“No…but we need to get through this.”

“What drove you to start this agency?” I asked, trying to ease back into the discussion while avoiding any mention of Tamara.  “I mean with all the other dating services around, wasn’t it risky?”

“Vanity.”

“Vanity?”  Liberty played the straight man role well.

“Look, I’m a pretty good looking guy.  Never had a weekend night without a hot babe in college but when they learned I was a boring business major instead of a jock, attorney or actor…they’d drop me.  I was the dude’s version of a one-night stand.”

“There’s such a thing?” Again Liberty asked the question I wanted to, but didn’t want to sound uncool.

“Apparently, there is…and I was it.  And then after a couple of years working for other people, I figured it out.  What would a smart guy who wanted to work for himself and date hot girls do for a living?”