It was notarised by the coroner as an accidental drowning. Joseph, through tearful eyes, told the police that he had come home from school, seen his mother lying face down in the water and immediately jumped in to try and save her. Unfortunately, he was too late.
In truth, Mrs. Müller was lying in the pool, but not face down. She was floating leisurely on her back and with an inviting smile, beckoned with her eyes for Joseph to join her. He immediately stripped down to nothing and jumped in.
Joseph was having the time of his life. This wasn’t making love, nor was it sex. It was unadulterated and guileless fucking◦– fucking his mother like he had never done before◦– aggressive, selfish, demanding◦– and at the same time holding her struggling body underwater. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t keep her breath long enough.
Manuel, the groundskeeper, serendipitously became aware of Mrs. Müller’s nude swimming habits and would often spy on her through the thick hibiscus hedge bordering the pool’s paved courtyard. He was witness to the entire scene. Being an illegal migrant, he wanted nothing to do with a police investigation. Manuel collected his few personal belongings and absconded from the Müller household within the hour.
The weeks following, Joseph went back to the maids, but not spying through keyholes. He threatened them with exposure if they didn’t cater to his requirements. Women having sex with under aged boys was taken very seriously by the legal system and came with grave consequences◦– for the women.
For years afterwards, Joseph, felt instant thrills recalling the memory of his mother kicking, thrashing and squirming while he held her under. The way her eyes bulged out, pleading for mercy. The way her body arched, breasts becoming rigid as the last bubbles escaped from her expended lungs. More often than not, he would ejaculate in his pants as the memory modified itself into progressively more intense and sadistic variations.
J. Levin Müller understood how difficult it must have been for his fragile young son to survive his teens without a loving mother. He assisted in every way, getting his son started in a career with the National Security Agency. What Joseph made of his future was now in his own hands. In keeping with his self-serving nature, Joseph climbed the corporate ladder of seniority rapidly◦– in the only way he knew how◦– on the backs of others.
If there was one thing Joseph Müller excelled at, it was his convincing lies, fabrications and defamations. More often than not, he believed his own, trumped-up stories. If his limited intellect suggested that something was so, then it was. In some respects, Müller considered himself a liberator to the lesser people around him.
In reality, Müller was nothing more than a bully addicted to power and intent on inflicting anguish on others for his own personal gain. He picked up on the least possible things that he thought would one day give him a hold over someone.
Müller had successfully embarrassed the Office of Security once before. Now, he would do it again, but this time he had far more ammunition◦– an encrypted digital package that they couldn’t decipher. Not only that, Trish LaForgue was keeping it within the close confines of her department. Müller was going to break through those confines, proving their lack of security, and once cracked, would present the entire package as a result of his own diligent work. Of course, the diligence would be the efforts of others, but he’d take care of that minor inconvenience.
Yes, the OS, officially supervising the integrity of all other divisions of National Security, would have their incompetence exposed. He would have LaForgue’s job.
The necessity for overseeing the NSA infuriated Müller intensely. He ran a tight ship and his division was as secure and scrupulous as it could get. Cameras were everywhere, recording the actions of everybody and everything that happened at Fort Meade. To ensure there was no scepticism, he even had a camera installed in his own office.
There was only one set of cameras not connected to the security department’s monitoring station and they were accessible solely from Müller’s tightly safeguarded computer. He had them fitted by a small security company from Nicaragua hoping to get a foot into the American market. Once they’d finished their job, he had the company closed down and the technicians deported.
Müller, under false pretences, had the work order signed by the manager of the electrical maintenance department. Friendly and reliable, the manager always got any job done on time and on budget. Müller knew him on a more personal level and had even been invited to a BBQ with his family. Müller had a brief fling with the manager’s wife, promising a promotion for her husband if she consented to his demands. Instead, Müller had him fired for allowing workers of a potentially hostile government to enter the secure confines of the National Security Agency.
The cameras that were installed required only a single fibre-optic stand to collect and transmit the videos to Müller’s computer. They were inconspicuously concealed in the lady’s washrooms.
Things were steadily unfolding. Müller had discovered that a team from SkyTech was going to Groom Lake, or Dreamland as some people called it.
Müller had a problem with people that did too much of their own thinking, but that, of course, was just a misconception on their part◦– Müller’s intellect was far above everyone else’s. But still, he had to be cautious on how he used and manipulated people. He’d sent Ethan Berenson, an amateur astronomer working as a code-breaker for the NSA, to Groom Lake and told him to fit in with the other conspiracy buffs. Müller’s justification◦– keep an eye on things and make sure nothing was going on that could be detrimental to the government. Müller considered himself a true patriot. Ethan had been provided with names and photos of Uri Lovinescu and the SkyTech team with instructions to report back on their movements.
The first person he’d aligned into his scheme was starting to outlive her usefulness, but he’d keep the pressure on for a while. It was now largely up to Berenson. Müller instructed him to use his own money for travel, accommodation and incidentals and verbally authorised that Berenson could expense it back to the NSA.
He felt the power arousing his sexual desires.
Müller was aware of an erection coming on. Under his desk, he loosened his belt, undid his zipper and took himself in hand. Power over people was the best aphrodisiac imaginable.
Müller called himself ‘The Controller’. His ego demanded it.
Yes, security was very tight at the NSA. How unfortunate for Müller that in his insatiable and sadistic lust, he’d momentarily forgotten about the security camera mounted in his own office.
Chapter Forty
For two days, Nathan and Emily hadn’t progressed any further. He needed a break from trying to figure out the strange formulas, and her head was spinning looking at images she couldn’t make any sense of.
“I know I’m supposed to be good at this graphics stuff…”
“The best,” Nathan interrupted.
“Well, maybe, but I think I’m looking at this the wrong way. I’m trying to find patterns that fit, but see nothing.”
“Pity we don’t have a quantum computer on our hands,” he said. “You’d have the answers instantly.”
“Quantum computer?”
“A computer that’s capable of processing data thousands of times faster than SkyTech’s IBM.”
“I thought we’d reached the limits on processing speeds and miniaturisation boundaries,” she said.
“Nowhere near, but that’s because we still think in terms of our limited human capabilities.”