Chapter Seventy-Two
James, leaning back in his executive chair, index fingers steepled against his chin, was mulling over the situation. In a quick phone conversation ten minutes earlier, he had been assured by Trish that the NSA was the only source that knew the number of the fax-modem. For anyone else, that number was unknown, unlisted and unreachable.
SkyTech’s internet facing server had been quickly isolated by Phil, but the intrusive virus was still working its way through the systems and corrupting data. So far, it had restricted itself to the terabytes of theoretical communications technology, none of which would ever be feasible. It was also fully recoverable from off-site backups. Nathan had isolated and destroyed the virus, but it had already replicated itself elsewhere. When that one was located and destroyed, another popped up. And so, it went.
Phil volunteered to keep an eye on its destructive replication process for the remainder of the day and, if need be, throughout the night. As soon as there was indication that it posed a threat to any of SkyTech’s proprietary and production data, Phil would be left with no choice other than to power everything down. And that included the IBM down in the Cube. It was a bit of an enigma; SkyTech’s agreement with the NSA was one hundred percent systems uptime, but it was the NSA from where the destructive virus originated.
James had no illusions where, and specifically from whom, the threatening email and subsequent invasion of SkyTech’s systems came from. Joseph Müller. Of bigger concern to James, how did Müller get the administrative password? He now had that answer and reluctantly lifted the handset from his desk phone and punched in an extension. “It’s James. Can you please come to my office?”
“You’re the only one who could have cracked into information that’s restricted to Nathan and me,” James said. “Care to explain?”
Sven looking despondently into James’s eyes reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. He prompted James to take it. “It was dropped into my home mailbox, JW. I didn’t have a choice.”
James plugged the flash drive into his computer and a video started playing automatically. It showed a bare room with a worn-out mattress in the left corner. Facing away from the camera, a young girl in fetal position was lying on top. Her soiled clothes were ripped along the seams and her hair looked dishevelled. Her subtle body movements suggested that she was whimpering.
A digitally altered voice came over the scene. “You have twelve hours to provide SkyTech’s administrative password to the IP address scrolling across the bottom of your screen. You then have another thirty-six hours to provide the fully deciphered document. Fail and you will watch this child die a very unpleasant and agonising death. We haven’t damaged her too badly yet, but that may change.”
The voice changed to one of a distinct Eastern-European accent. “Child! Child, face the camera.” The girl cowered further into herself. From the side, a large man whose lower half could only be seen in part from behind, grabbed the girl by the scruff of her neck and turned her head to the camera.
James looked at the confusion, pain and fear in young Kayla’s wet and bloodshot eyes as she slowly raised her head to face the lens. Her face was severely bruised and there was no doubt she had been beaten more than once. The video stopped playing.
James yanked the flash drive out of his computer. Those fucking barbarians, he thought, with disgust. Müller had proven what lengths he’d go to in order to get his hands on that deciphered document. The anonymous email was not an idle threat. James had no doubt that Kayla’s life was no idle threat either. Müller had demonstrated his determination in the most sinister way imaginable. And worst of all, as Director of the NSA, he was untouchable.
James’s thoughts were grave. Corruption of SkyTech’s data, although still an issue of major concern, would be contained by Phil. But now, they had very little time to deliver that document, yet Trish and Uri were adamant that it goes no further until it was validated for authenticity one way or the other. If Kubacki was correct, this document could become the most closely guarded secret ever.
There had always been viable alternatives to oil, but they had to be introduced slowly. It could not be done overnight. Nothing, not even total environmental destruction ruled over profits yielded by the global economic engine.
James was now faced with an impossible choice, the life of a child or the potential disruption of the global economy?
Sven’s unsteady voice intruded into his thoughts. “JW, what am I going to do? They have Kayla, and you saw what they’re doing to her.”
“You, Sven, are not going to do anything,” James said, with resolve. “We are going to get your daughter back.”
James reached for his phone and called LaForgue. “Trish, James here. Listen, I don’t have time to go into detail now, but I need confirmation on the feasibly of Kubacki’s theories, and I need it by this time tomorrow. I’m going to get the entire team over to my home this evening. A very serious situation has materialised. Can you and Uri please join? Great, I’ll explain everything then.” He gave Trish his address and ended the call.
Chapter Seventy-Three
James suggested to the team that they leave the office a little earlier than usual and convene at his home for dinner. He also asked that they bring their laptops and anything to do with Müller and, of course, Kubacki’s document. He had phoned ahead and advised Antoine that there would be seven for a working dinner and that they would be setting up their computers on the dining room table.
Trish had the Office of Security’s Cessna fly her directly to La Guardia airport in New York. It had taken less than half an hour, but the cab drive to James’s home, just a few miles along Grand Central and Long Island Expressway, took twice that long due to traffic congestion.
“Please come in, Mrs. LaForgue,” Antoine said, taking Trish’s overnight bag and guiding her through to the dining room where the others were already assembled.
“Trish, welcome,” James said, standing up. “Make yourself comfortable somewhere around the table. You know Yvonne, Emily and Nate, but I don’t believe you’ve met Sven Labrowski.”
Trish walked around the table to where Sven was sitting next to Yvonne. He stood up and they shook hands. He seemed extremely restless to Trish and his handshake, although firm, was clammy. His eyes were bloodshot, seemingly from lack of sleep, and she couldn’t help but notice his nervous habit of continuously running fingers through his matted hair.
James looked past Trish through to the great room. “Is Uri still outside?”
“No, I left him at the labs,” she said. “The urgency I heard in your voice when we spoke earlier suggested that his time would best be served continuing the analysis of Kubacki’s formulas, especially on the molecular structure of lodestone.”
James, taking his seat, agreed and expressed gratitude for her foresight.
Trish sat down next to him. “I just wish we had a sample of that damned lodestone,” she said, in frustration.
James looked around to those in the room. “Antoine has arranged a small buffet dinner, so please help yourselves when you feel like eating. The girls have already had dinner and are with Amy in the playroom. Grab anything you want from the bar, and there’s also tea and coffee, if you prefer.”
As usual, Antoine had provided an excellent variety of mouth-watering dishes to choose from. During dinner, James would explain the situation of which Trish and Yvonne knew nothing.
Yvonne looked at Sven with concern. There was absolutely no sign of his normal confident self. Instead, he was dejected and now sat slouched at the table not touching any of the food. What was wrong? she thought. She wanted to reach out and touch him gently on the arm when James started speaking.