“What can I do for you Special Agent Silver?”
“I need to track someone.”
He set the soldiering iron down in a holder and said, “Case number?”
Now he was taking a chance of setting his career on fire. Director Gerald herself had ordered him off the case. If he was caught doing anything outside her explicit instructions, he would not only be transferred to Alaska, but could lose his job and pension.
“It's off the books. I'll get you a case number.”
Castillo stared at him for a moment.
“If someone finds anything I give you, tracks down the serial number and sees that it came from this office, I could lose my job. Why should I help you?”
“This is a big case. I'm trying to do it right. But I need to be able to track a very bad guy without anyone else knowing what's really going on.”
Castillo seemed to consider it for a moment and then said, “Okay. But I'm not going to give you anything that's FBI issue.”
“What's that mean?”
“Nothing for you. We get samples from companies all of the time, hoping to become vendors. I evaluate them and write up a report if we should consider it. Some of it is better than what we can get issued — there are a lot of people afraid of technology in this business when they should be embracing it.”
“So, what can I get? I need to be able to track someone. GPS kind of thing.”
“How big? And what will you be tracking, a vehicle, person or something similar?”
“A person.”
Castillo strolled over to a box in the corner and rummaged around for a few minutes before coming up with a small white box about the size of half-a-pack of cigarettes.
“This should do nicely. Five days of tracking on fresh batteries, and you can track it on the company web site. Used for tracking boxes during shipping, it will fit your purpose nicely.”
In five days, he would either be a hero or looking for a job — probably in the food service industry. Smiling, he dug out the laptop carrying case. “Can you install it in here? Like now?”
Jackie found herself another coffee shop and over a triple espresso considered what to do next. She was starting to run short of cash and, with that, wondered how Leo was doing. She hoped that he would be all right. But the best thing that she could do for him was to figure out how to shut down or change the software that controlled the Children of the Constitution. She hoped that she had the coding skills to hack into the system. If Nathan had used any of the encryption programs that she helped develop for the banking industry, there wasn't enough computer in the free world to crack them open.
How about coming at it from a different direction? The software developed by Jared used a form of decision tree learning. Knowing Nathan, he wouldn't spring for a commercial version of software when he could find something for free that worked just as well if not better than something offered for many thousands of dollars. A lot of the free software often had the source code, which meant that he could modify it or have it modified to his particular ends.
With the complexity of the software involved, there probably weren't very many programs that fit the bill — with luck, only one or two.
The more complex the software, the more tracks it left on the internet. Given that, she might be able to pin down the location from where it was being run.
She found another net cafe and rented a computer where she could have some privacy. She didn't know who had been on this computer before and if they had installed anything that would compromise her search. Without her security tools, there wasn't much she could do to protect herself.
Wikipedia provided the first clues. There were two primary languages that would appeal to Nathan; both were free. The first, called 'Orange,' was developed at a university in Slovenia. She looked through their web site and saw that it was more oriented towards GUI interfaces — not something that would be required for the Children of the Constitution application. It also ran on C++, a language that she liked but Nathan loathed as being 'a very bad solution in search of a problem.'
From her computer science class, she recalled a quote from the developer of the language, Bjarne Stroustrup, who said, “C makes it easy to shoot yourself in the foot; C++ makes it harder, but when you do it blows your whole leg off.”
The next piece of software she saw fit the bill perfectly. It was a called Weka, and it was developed by a university in New Zealand, which caused her to chuckle. Some very good software was developed in some places that you didn't much expect, Slovenia and New Zealand.
She wished that she had her laptop so she could download the software and tear into it. There wasn't enough storage on the computer in front of her to even start on the close look she would require to pick out a pattern.
No matter, she was going to have to find a computer some place to do what she needed. Damn, she wished she had her laptop.
Jeff unlocked the door to the interrogation room. Leo looked up at him, his expression stony despite the sight of all the things he was carrying. What a cold fucking character.
He dropped a brown paper bag with evidence stickers on it in front of Leo and said, “Get dressed. You’re being released. This is your stuff. Your truck will be in front in a few minutes.”
“My rifle?”
The first two words the bastard had to say were about his gun.
“And your illegal pistol. You must have friends in very high places — that suppressor is usually worth five years in a federal pen.”
Dumping the laptop case on the table, he added. “Here's the rest of your crap, including your laptop.”
Leo tore open the bags and climbed into his clothes without a word or even a sense of modesty. Then he folded up the orange jump suit he had been wearing squaring up the seams.
Neat freak fucker.
He thrust a clipboard containing the inventory of items taken from Leo and said, “Sign this.”
Leo sat down and read through each item, checking to make sure that everything was present.
“You didn't fuck with my rifle, did you?”
“Nope. Sign the damn thing so you can get the fuck out of my sight.”
“Can I borrow a pen?”
Jeff slammed one on the metal desk in front of Leo.
Leo signed the form and handed it and the pen back to him.
Then Jeff did one of the hardest things that he done in a while. He pulled out a business card. Handing it to Leo he said, “You want to talk, let me know. My cell number is on there.”
Leo nodded and slipped the card into his pocket.
Picking up his belongings, Leo motioned for Jeff to lead the way.
Stepping outside the doors, Leo's head never stop moving as he constantly scanned the surrounding area.
What was he looking for?
His truck had been pulled up in front of the building, about twenty yards away and left with the motor running.
Leo stopped, looking all around and fixed on one spot, probably five hundred yards away.
Turning, he knocked Jeff down.
A freight train roar tore past Jeff's ears. Concrete dust showered him.
The HRT snipers started shooting, the rounds passing over their heads with snapping cracks.
Keeping low behind the silhouette of the truck, Leo brushed himself off and said, “You really think your fancy HRT snipers could even carry this guy's lunch? He had you in his cross hairs from the instant you stepped outside the building. And he ain't in that tree your guys are shredding.”
Another roar and spray of concrete dust. Jeff tried to make himself part of the pavement. Looking up, he saw that Leo and his truck were gone.
Chapter 26
As a man who played with fire for a living, even Matthew Tudor was impressed with the acetylene explosion at the Denver Police Department vehicle garage. It lit up the sky and almost rocked him off his feet despite being at least a mile away.