Hacker For Hire

2.                           Also by Pendelton C. Wallace Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With My Father Blue Water & Me is a high-adventure true story of author Penn Wallace's magical first summer fishing with his father, Blue Water Charlie, off the coast of Mexico at age eleven.   Christmas Inc. What would happen if Santa decided to go public and sell shares of Christmas on the NASDAQ? What would happen to the elves if he outsourced toy making to China? Warning:This is not a children’s book. Exposure to children under 12-years old may cause child to stop believing in Santa Claus or take a cynical view of Christmas.   The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) Somewhere on Canada's Inside Passage, terrorist plot to destroy a cruise ship filled with celebrities and VIP’s. Ripped from today's headlines, a group of Canadian-born terrorist plan to bring their war to the Western Hemisphere.

3. It’s also the story of a young Latino man coming of age in an Anglo world. Ted Higuera and his friends stumble upon an al-Qaeda plot to blow up the cruise ship and the clock starts ticking. Can Ted and his friends act in time to save the thousands of people aboard the Star of the Northwest?

4.             Hacker For Hire         By   Pendelton C. Wallace

5.   This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental         Copyright © 2014 Pendelton C. Wallace         All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact Victory Press at www.hackerslist.co   www.hackerslist.co      

6. Acknowledgements I need to first thank my family for the support and understanding to write this book. During the period when I was writing The Inside Passage, my wife, Connie, was in the last stages of the fight against ovarian cancer. I got up at 4:30 every morning and wrote for two hours before I went to work. My youngest daughter Libby, took care of Connie during the day. When I returned home from work, I took over. Connie never once questioned the time that I spent writing and always encouraged my work. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then. Connie, sadly, is no longer with us. But I owe her much. As do I my daughters Katie and Libby. I must thank my writers group, The Legion of the Plume, for helping me advance my art. They sat through endless iterations of this story. They made suggestions, they found errors. What I liked best is that they got to know my characters better than I did. They noticed the change in Ted from The Inside Passage to Hacker for Hire. They questioned whether this was realistic and made me do some serious thinking about Ted’s character. I am deeply indebted. I also need to thank the Sea of Cortez Writers. They helped me hone this book into a finished product.

7. Susan Aaron Moller has been my best friend and editor since grad school. She proofread all of my papers in school and willingly subjected herself to all of my writing since then. She has the patience of a saint. I have to thank Mama. She has been in my corner from the beginning. She encouraged me when the night seemed the darkest. I would not be publishing my fourth book without her. Muchas gracias. And finally, I have to thank you, dear reader. Without patrons, artists don’t last very long. The fact that you read and enjoy what I write drives me onward. Like Thomas Jefferson, I believe that a free society must read to maintain its freedom. You are all freedom fighters.

8.   Pendelton C. Wallace 3/26/2014 On board the sailing vessel Victory La Paz, Mexico

9. Author’s Note People often ask me where I get the ideas for my books.Most often, they are from stories in the newspaper. (Yes, I still read newspapers.) The Inside Passage was a fictionalized version of an incident that really happened in Canada in 2006. Likewise, Hacker for Hire is based on a true story. I won’t tell you the name of the company or the people involved, but if you are an avid newshound, you should recognize the story. I’ve moved the company from its original location to Seattle to fit the story. Of course, I’ve added many fictionalized characters, tossed in a murder or two and fashioned incidents to create more tension, although I’m sure the actual participants felt that there was more than enough tension for them. I also played fast and loose with the truth in one other area. Garry does not drive a bus for Metro in Seattle. He drives for STA in Spokane. Sorry, my friend. One other slight stretching of the truth: I made Cessan three six niner zero a twin engine Cessna 421. That’s the call sign for the plane in which I soloed. If you own 3690J, please drop me a line. The Canadian al-Qaeda attack incident in The Inside Passage occurred in June of 2006. The story you are about to read exploded onto the

10. scene in September 2006. In Hacker for Hire I maintain that timeline because it fits nicely into Ted and Chris’ story. Hacker for Hire takes Ted into the profession for which he trained: a computer security analyst. I know this world. I spent twenty-five years as a software engineer and certified security analyst. I’ve tried to make the technology as believable as possible while not boring you to death with details and still pushing the envelope.  However, technology moves so fast, that by the time this story is published, it will probably be obsolete. This is a story about unbridled lust for power and corporate greed. I wish I could say that this kind of malevolence is in our past, but unfortunately it is as present today as ever. It is the never-ending human condition. We must all be alert and on guard for these kinds of abuses. I hope you enjoy your foray into Ted and Chris’ world. It is not so very different from our own. Pendelton C. Wallace 3/26/2014 On board the sailing vessel Victory La Paz, Mexico  

11. Table of Contents Acknowledgements Author’s Note Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

12. Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Post Script Coming Soon . . .

13. Chapter 1   Justin McCormack pulled his long brown hair back into a pony tail, curled it on top of his head and secured it with hair pins. He gently lifted the blonde wig from a Styrofoam form and fitted it to his head. He fussed and fretted with the wig for a moment, then reached for a jar of spirit gum. After slathering a layer on his upper lip with the applicator under the jar’s lid, he pasted a blonde Fu Manchu mustache into place. Finally, he spirit gummed his chin and added the goatee. He felt a tingling in the pit of his stomach. Nerves or excitement? It didn’t matter. The adrenaline would kick in any minute. He stopped and took a breath, then looked around his bathroom. He had worked hard to afford this expensive condo overlooking Seattle’s Pike Place Market. He arranged his bathroom like the rest of his life, everything in its place. Thick white towels hung from brass racks, the few medications and cosmetics neatly stored away in drawers and cabinets alongside protein powder and vitamin supplements. He washed the spirit gum off of his hands and gazed into the brass- rimmed mirror that matched the art deco theme of the building. He removed his bathrobe and liked what he saw. His muscles bulged, his six-pack abs

14. gave him a little thrill. He had worked as hard for this body as he had for his profession. Stepping back, Justin admired his handiwork. Not perfect, not good enough yet. Although he hoped that no one knew what he looked like, he had been on enough TV shows and magazines that he couldn’t take the chance. He leaned close into the mirror and inserted blue contact lenses to cover his brown eyes. That should do it. This job could be a life changer. He already had all the money he needed, but if he pulled this off, he'd be famous. No, not if he pulled it off, when he pulled it off. Justin stepped into his bedroom where blue coveralls laid neatly on his king-sized bed. A pair of shiny, black work shoes rested on the floor. Justin reached for the coveralls. Damn that Bear. The coveralls were a size “L.” Could he squeeze into them? The legs weren’t a problem. A little tight, but not too short. The top was another story. The fabric strained against the buttons. His chest and shoulders were just too massive for this outfit. He would be lucky if he didn’t pop the buttons loose when he breathed. I’ll kill the little bastard for this. After seven years he knows damn good and well I’m an XL!. He sat on the bed, carefully bent over and pulled on the shoes.

15. If this is the worst thing that happens today, I’ll be lucky. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach while he waited for the elevator. At the front steps of his building, a white van with a Rainer Office Supply sign painted on the side pulled up to the curb, exactly on time. A short stocky man with a reddish-blonde beard and unruly hair got out of the driver’s seat. “Coffee?” The man handed Justin a Starbucks cup. “Get in, Bear.” Justin took the cup and slipped behind the wheel. Justin glanced back over his shoulder. “Good morning, Irena,” he said. A tattoo-covered blonde woman with a crew cut, wearing a baggy blue jump suit sat in the back seat. Their eyes met and without answering him she covered her head with a New York Yankees baseball cap. They drove the few blocks to the Millennium Towers in nervous silence. Are we out of our minds? One of the largest computer companies in the world, Millennium Systems security was world class. And that, my friend, is the challenge. Justin steered the van into the underground garage and parked in a reserved stall, his hands sweaty on the wheel. He climbed out of the van, took a deep breath and wiped his palms on the seat of his pants. His heart pounded wildly. Using the old actor’s trick, he tensed every muscle in his

16. body, then slowly released the tension, bit by bit. First his toes, then his feet, then his calves, then thighs and up his body. He breathed deeply several more times, letting his diaphragm do the work. This was it:  Showtime!   ****   “Hey, hero.” The husky, gray-bearded bus driver turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Your stop’s coming up.” “Thanks, Garry.” Ted Higuera folded his newspaper and stood up. “Good luck, hero.” The bus driver held his hand out, palm up. I wish he’d stop calling me that. Ted slapped his hand. “Gracias.” Stepping down from the green and yellow Metro bus, Ted landed in Pioneer Square. He turned his jacket collar up against the light mist. In East LA, where he grew up, they would call this rain. In Seattle, the natives hardly even noticed it.  The Square was full of families and late-season tourists milling about. Business people hustled back and forth. Tonight, after the yuppie crowd took over, Pioneer Square would become Party Central. Caramba! Ted thought, not for the first time, that he’d rather be heading to one of the Square’s famous night spots. It was his first day at his

17. first job out of college. He should be excited, but something held him back. “Mom, look!” A small boy, maybe nine or ten years old, pointed at Ted. “It’s him. The man from TV who saved that cruise ship.” “Charlie,” his hatchet-faced mother admonished. “You know it’s not polite to point.” “Hell, Shelly, Charlie’s right.” The father, a short, round, bald man in a leather jacket, reached his hand out to Ted. “I want to shake your hand.” Ted hated all the attention he was getting. Too polite to refuse, he took the man’s hand. The man pulled him close and clapped him on the back. “It’s about time somebody stood up to them damn terrorists.” “Oh, my.” A heavy gray-haired woman saw Ted. She stood eye-to- eye with him and probably outweighed him by forty pounds. Her eyes immediately teared up. She threw her arms around him and pulled him into her ample bosom. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Ted wanted to break away, to run. “My grandchildren were on that boat. You saved their lives.” “I really didn’t do anything,” Ted said. Yeah, he fought back tears of his own, except get my friends shot up. He managed to extricate himself from the death hug.

18. A crowd gathered around him, a phenomenon that happened more and more these days. Well-wishers patted him on the back and introduced their children. Smart phones were shoved in his face as pretty girls posed for a selfie with him. This was the full rock-star treatment. I gotta get outta here. He broke free. “Thank you, everybody. I gotta go. I’m late for work.” Breaking away from the crowd, his steps echoed across the cobbled square as he passed under the iron pergola. He picked up his pace. His admirers fell behind. Crossing Yesler Street, he made his way to the restored nineteenth- century brick building that housed YTS Digital Security, his new employer. What the hell, I’m about to join the workforce. Isn’t this what the last four years had been all about? Graduate, get a job, get ahead. It was the American dream. What every kid from the barrio wanted, right? So why did he feel so damned disjointed?   ****   Showtime!

19. Justin and his two helpers pushed wooden carts stacked with cubicle components through the service entrance. They took the service elevator to the thirty-second floor. Bear’s fingers drummed on the cart handle. “Schtop it!” Irena spoke for the first time. Her voice was just below a shriek. The elevator doors opened unto an immense sea of cubicles. Justin knew that surveillance cameras in the ceiling watched his every move. He timed their visit for mid-morning. The day had begun. An army of drones moved about busily, with purpose, a hive of orchestrated activity. Justin could feel his pulse in his ears. After a brief surveillance, he found what he was looking for. He pushed his cart towards an empty office along the wall. He looked around again. No one seemed to notice them. Bear sullenly pushed his cart behind Justin, trailed by Irena.   Irena entered the office first. Justin held his breath. She looked around then gave a slight nod. He entered, followed by Bear. Irena and Bear pushed their carts in front of the office windows and began piling boxes on top of the carts, screening off the view from the outside. Justin sat down behind the empty desk. He looked around nervously even though no one outside the office could see him. It took only a moment for Justin to orient himself to the strange desk. He cracked his knuckles, reached down and turned on the computer. While

20. it booted up, he found the number for Millennium System’s help desk taped to the computer monitor. It really didn’t matter. Justin already had it memorized. Last week, when his team cased the building, they learned all they needed to know. Bear discovered the company’s login ID convention was first initial, middle initial and the first four characters of the last name. Irena found out the department’s manager, John Potter, would be on vacation in Hawaii this week. That tidbit of information led Justin to do a Google search on John Potter, middle name Allan. On the screen, Justin typed in “JAPOTT” and hit the “enter” key. As expected, an “incorrect password” message appeared. He tried the login twice more. The screen said:   Access denied. Your account has been locked. Please contact the system administrator.    Justin took a deep breath, forced a smile onto his face, picked up the phone and called the help desk number. “You have reached the Millennium Systems Help Desk,” the recorded voice said in perfect English. “We have added several new menu options to

21. improve our service. Please listen to this entire message before making your selection. For password resets, press one. . .” Justin pushed “one.” “Millennium Systems Help Desk, this is Hamsa, how may I help you?” Her accent was thick, but understandable. This is it. The most critical part of the job. He had to sound casual, at ease. “Good morning, Hamsa, this is John Potter in Seattle.” Justin knew that a help desk agent in Bangalore had never heard of John Potter. “I just got back from vacation and I don’t remember what I set my password to before I left. Can you help me?” “Of course, John. I need first to ask you a security question through.” Justin forced a smile. He had learned long ago that his voice was more likeable when he smiled. “Sure, go ahead.” Irena had attended the International Help Desk Institute’s seminar in Seattle last month. In a long blonde wig, short skirt and tight sweater, it was child’s play for her to learn about Millennium Systems’ security questions from their Help Desk manager. “I guess a week on the Big Island is worth a little hassle, huh?” Acting friendly with the help desk agent was a big part of social engineering. Justin had to put her at ease so she was less likely to question his identity.

22. “John, what is the name of your wife?” the voice on the phone asked in its heavy Indian accent. “It’s Sandra.” In his Google search Justin found all sorts of interesting information about John Potter. He thought back to a picture of Mr. Potter and his wife at a fundraiser with the caption “John and Sandra Potter dance the night away at the Black and White Ball.” “OK, John. I’m resetting your password to ‘Wednesday’ with a capital ‘W,’ you will need to reset it as soon as you log on.” “Thanks, Hamsa.” That was it. He was in. He had the keys to the kingdom. From John Potter’s account, it was child’s play for Justin to shell into the operating system. He had spent a lifetime stalking Windows vulnerabilities. In five minutes he set up a system administrator account for himself. Now, as far as Millennium Systems was concerned, he was God.

23. Chapter 2   Ted sat anxiously at the conference table with a couple dozen other twenty-somethings. He wanted to get this over with. He was still trying to figure out how he fit in. After only two weeks at his new job, he wanted to make a good impression. The entire staff was called in for an eight o’clock meeting on a Friday night. It was supposed to be a big surprise. Ted glanced around the large conference room. Four guys played Foosball at one end of the room. A heavy guy in thick glasses tossed a wadded-up napkin at the Nerf basketball hoop on the back of the door. The walls were covered in white boards. Schematic diagrams and computer code that he didn’t understand yet filled the walls from floor to ceiling. The wall-mounted giant TV played a familiar theme song.  “Hey, you guys, pipe down.” Justin McCormack, wearing his trademark shorts, sandals and tank top, stood and raised his hands. “It’s about to start.” His long brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail, dipped half- way down his back. His bulging muscles didn’t impress Ted. After four years of major college football, he was used to guys whose muscles had muscles. It was Justin’s intense brown eyes that commanded Ted’s attention.

24.  “Good evening.” On the TV a smooth-faced, fortyish blonde smiled to the camera. “I’m Janet Petersen, welcome to the season premiere of News Front.” The theme song crescendoed and the camera panned out to show Janet Petersen sitting behind an ebony anchor desk. “Our stories tonight: ‘Dave Garcia walks the streets of Baghdad.’” The monitor over her shoulder showed a Hispanic man in a flak jacket and helmet walking through a bazaar with armed troops at his side. “Christopher Wilson brings you ‘The Housing Bubble: Will it Burst?’” Graphics on the monitor showed a picture of a house and a line graph representing housing prices going sky high overlaid with a giant question mark. “But first,” The monitor over Janet’s shoulder changed to a picture of the cover of Time Magazine. “I interview the man Time Magazine has called ‘The most dangerous man in America’ – Justin McCormack, CEO of YTS Digital Security.” The camera pulled back enough for the viewers to see Justin, wearing an immaculate business suit for the interview, sitting next to Janet. Justin cleaned up pretty good, Ted had to admit. With his broad shoulders and powerful chest, he reminded Ted of a tiger, about to pounce. “Yo, dude,” one of the group around the table shouted. General applause, cheers and whistles rose from the crowd. Irena, her T-shirt pulled

25. tight enough to reveal her nipple piercings, high-fived Justin.  “Hey, Hero,” Irena shouted across the table at Ted in her slight Russian accent. “How it feels for someone else to be hogging all TV time?” In his mind’s eye, Ted saw the missile launch. His blood ran cold. He and his friends had stopped the terrorist attack on the cruise ship. They saved over six thousand lives. But at what cost? Only he and Chris had survived. He had spent the last month under a spot light. “Justin can have it.” Ted flicked his hand at Irena, he was sick of it. “I’m done with the limelight.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know why the TV guys are so interested in a Mexican kid from East LA anyway.” He turned from Irena and reached for a paper plate. Pizza boxes from Northlake Tavern covered the white, Formica- topped table and a fifty-gallon galvanized tub filled with ice and imported beers and micro-brew sat on the floor. The beer flowed freely as a party mood rocked the room. All eyes were now on the News Front broadcast on the big-screen TV. “News Front’s going to put YTS on the map,” the tiny Asian woman sitting next to Ted said softly. “The IPO will make them all rich.” She sipped at her beer. “Too bad we won’t get in on it.” “No te preocupes, chica.” Then Ted remembered where he was. “Don’t worry. My mama used to say a rising tide floats all boats. We may

26. not have stock, but if the company does well, we will too.” Nan Pok went through new employee orientation with Ted. Tonight she clung to him like he was her only friend in the world. He wasn’t particularly attracted to the small woman with Coke-bottle glasses, but he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We’re gonna do okay here.” “Thanks, Teddy.” Ted froze. Meagan had always called him “Teddy.” He tried to shake off the sudden sense of melancholy. He was just coming out of the funk he had been in since returning from Canada. For two weeks after their Canadian adventure he practically lived in the hospital room while his best friend, Chris Hardwick, fought for his life. Ted had just re-joined the real world as a junior security analyst at YTS. Coming back to work protecting some corporation’s databases just didn’t feel like enough.  He felt like he'd been given a second chance at life. He had to give back, to make a difference somehow. Whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing, this wasn’t it. “Mr. McCormack, there have been rumors.” Ted’s attention turned back to the big screen TV. “Can you set the record straight once and for all?” Ted knew that Janet Petersen’s million-dollar smile had melted more

27. than one hard case on national television.  “What does the name of your company, ‘YTS,’ really mean?” On the big TV, Justin laughed. “I’ve heard all of those rumors too, Janet.” His smirk seemed to say, “I know something that you don’t know.” After a brief pause, Justin said, “It really doesn’t mean anything.” “I’ve heard that you and a couple of buddies thought up the name one night over cheap pizza and way too much beer.” There was that smirk again. “Really, it’s just an acronym. It sounded important to us.” “Did you hear that?” Nan laughed, putting down her beer bottle. “What does it mean?” Ted asked. “You’re Too Stupid,” she responded. Ted was taken aback. “Say what?” “No, really. That’s what it means. YTS means ‘You’re Too Stupid.’ As in ‘You’re too stupid to understand what I’m talking about, so I’ll have to put it in one-syllable words.’ My supervisor told me that Justin and his friends made it up because their customers didn’t understand anything they were saying. They were pitching their products to a bunch of idiotic Luddites that happened to be CEO’s of Fortune 500 companies.” “Oooh!” Bear raised his fists over his head and twirled his hips. “The most dangerous man in Aaameeeeriiic-ka.” He threw his head back and

28. kicked one leg up on the last syllable. “Dangerous enough to sign your paycheck,” Justin cracked. Bear’s face immediately turned red. “Just remember who got you here, big shot.” He sat down and shut up. Ted watched the picture on the TV change to a still photo of a geeky- looking twelve-year-old boy. Janet Petersen went into a brief biography of Justin McCormack. Growing up on Seattle’s Eastside, going to Lakeside Academy, graduating from the University of Washington at eighteen. Justin wasn’t the average American boy. Well, Ted thought, maybe the average American boy who had all the advantages. “Is it true, Mr. McCormack,” Janet asked on the TV, “that you hacked into the New York Stock Exchange at age sixteen?” “Justin, please.” Justin flashed an embarrassed smile. “When the FBI came knocking on my parents’ door, my dad wasn’t too happy.” “What happened?” The camera closed in on him. “I was just a kid. A group of my friends were into hacking. They’d break into the Department of Defense networks and leave messages or graphics, kind of like gangbangers tagging a wall, just to show that they could do it. I wanted to step it up a notch. I set up an account for myself

29. with the McMillan-Smith brokerage house, then manipulated stock prices to make it grow.” “How much money did you accumulate?” “I really can’t talk about it, Janet.” Justin flashed her an ‘aw-shucks’ grin. “As part of the plea bargain agreement, I can’t give out any details. Let’s just say it was north of seven figures.” “And did you go to prison?” “No.” Justin laughed. “My dad’s a lawyer. I was a minor. He worked out an agreement with the DOJ. I got five years’ probation and wasn’t allowed to touch a computer for seven years.” “So, if you couldn’t touch a computer for seven years, how did you become one of the nation’s top digital security experts?” Ted looked across the room at his boss. Justin was really enjoying this. Well, so what? Who wouldn’t? “Let’s just say,” Justin was talking on the TV again. “That the people who were supposed to be monitoring me weren’t too bright.” Let’s just say that you aren’t too bound by other people’s rules. Ted sipped at his beer. Why did his boss’ superior attitude bother him so much? “By the time the ban was lifted, you were one of the nation’s most promising young digital security experts.” The camera zoomed in for a

30. close up on Janet. “You founded YTS at age twenty-three and had nowhere to go but up.” Janet turned to face the camera and spoke directly to her audience. “Tonight, we go along with Justin on one of his digital adventures. We asked him to hack into the most secure computer network in the world: the Millennium Systems network. Millennium Systems is one of the largest computer manufacturers in the world. Of course, this is with the permission of Millennium Systems. We talked to their Chief Security Officer, Richard Freeman.” The TV screen cut to a taped interview with a severe looking middle aged man. Richard Freeman was a tall, muscular man with salt and pepper hair cut in a military style. The smirk on his face seemed to say “Me smart. You dumb.” “We welcome Mr. McCormick’s attempt.” He smiled. “No one has ever hacked into Millennium systems.” He seemed too smug. “We have one of the most secure systems in the world. My staff works around the clock, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year, three-hundred and sixty-six when we can get them, to protect our company’s data. Let him bang away at it. It’s a good test for us.”   ****

31.   Donna Harrison pushed her cart down the long, carpeted hallway of the Millennium Tower, headquarters of Millennium Systems. She had followed exactly the same routine since she took the job a week ago. She stopped her cart outside of an office door. Removing a step stool from the cart, she climbed up a couple of steps and dusted the security camera pointed down the hallway. Stepping down from her stool, she removed a key chain from the pocket of her baggy gray uniform dress. As she pulled the keys from her pocket, a plastic name tag fell to the floor. “Damn.” Donna bent over to pick up the name tag. She was always forgetting to pin it on her uniform. The name tag said “Betty.” Her heart beat accelerated as she unlocked the door and entered a large office. She removed the step stool from her cart and placed it under the office’s security camera. Climbing two steps, she dusted the camera, then lifted the ceiling tile above the camera with her feather duster. A mini digital video recorder was attached to the security camera wires by alligator clips. She pushed a button on the device, removed a flash drive and dropped it in her pocket. She took a second flash drive from her pocket, inserted it in the device and pushed the button again. The light changed from red to green.

32. Back on the floor, she stopped, took a deep breath and opened the blinds. The countless lights of downtown Seattle and Elliot Bay sparkled below her. Out on the water she saw brightly lit ferry boats making their way back and forth across Puget Sound. “What a waste,” she muttered. Not for the first time she pondered on the man who occupied the office. “How can he work here all day with the blinds shut? A billion-dollar view and he wants to live in a cave.” A remote control called to her from the credenza. She picked it up and turned on the wall-mounted TV. It was Friday night, she never missed News Front. The host, Janet Petersen, introduced her guest for the night. Shit. It was that SOB McCormack. What a publicity hound. How could the rest of the industry do their job when he was always giving away the tricks of the trade? Donna went back to work dusting the dark mahogany furniture. She stopped in front of the half-sized book case. There were unusual wear patterns in the carpet. Patience. Intensely aware of the surveillance camera over her shoulder, she didn’t stop to investigate. The desk, roughly the size of an aircraft carrier, was empty except for an expensive laptop computer. The computer sat precisely parallel to the edge of the desk in a locked docking station, in front of the padded leather

33. swivel chair. This is where it all happens, she thought. There was no question in her mind, he was the one. The occupant of the office demanded precise compliance with his instructions. No dust anywhere, no paper in the trash can, not a pencil out of place. The small refrigerator stocked with exactly two dozen bottles of Evian water. Not twenty-three, not twenty-five. Exactly twenty-four. The bottles to be rotated each day so that the oldest was on the left of the outside row, labels facing outward. Her supervisor told Donna that she liked her meticulous attention to detail. Like that was supposed to make Donna feel better about doing this crummy dead-end job. If only she knew. Donna wasn’t doing this for money. The adrenaline high was better than sex. With a conscious effort, she controlled her breathing and surveyed the office. Cream-colored walls without a single picture or photograph. No plants. No decoration of any sort, just mind-numbing plainness. There was no indication of the personality of the man who worked here. Probably because he doesn’t have one. Donna turned her attention to the laptop on the desk. Her breath came in short bursts as she raised the lid. The keys to the kingdom, she thought as she removed an aerosol can from her cleaning cart and blew the keyboard

34. clean. I have to be patient. She worked diligently, cleaning the office from top to bottom to operating-room standards. Finally, she closed the blinds, turned off the TV and pushed her cart to the door. A smile spread across her face. Maybe the extra money wouldn’t be so bad. Taking her family to Cabo, when winter closed in on them, might just be what the doctor ordered.

35. Chapter 3    “Boo! Hiss!” Someone threw peanuts at Richard Freeman’s image on the big screen TV. Catcalls filled the conference room. Híjole, Ted thought, these dudes are wired. He watched the scene on the television shift to Justin getting out of the van in the parking garage of the Millennium Tower. Ted had never seen Justin in anything but his tank top and shorts. In the coveralls he looked like any working Joe. “We have hidden cameras following Mr. McCormack’s progress.” Janet’s professional voice-over floated through the speakers. “He wore a disguise in case MS security had warned its staff to watch out for him.” On TV, Justin stepped out of the elevator and looked around the office. People hustled busily about. No one paid him any attention. “We’re looking for the department manager’s office, checking out the attentiveness of management and employees.” Justin’s voice-over covered his actions.   Even though Ted knew the outcome, he held his breath. On the screen, Bear stepped behind Justin. The camera hidden in his glasses zeroed in as Justin typed in “JAPOTT” and hit the “enter” key.

36. “I was denied access three times,” Justin said. “Then the system locked me out. That’s good security practice.” On TV, Justin picked up the phone. “I called the help desk.” He did his song and dance routine with the help desk agent. “We call it social engineering,” Justin told Janet. “Human beings are always the weakest link in any security system. They would have seen from their caller ID that I was calling from Mr. Potter’s desk. They heard what they expected to hear. They reset the password and I was in. I returned to my office where I have better tools and less chance of detection, to hack their system.” “Woo Hoo!” The room erupted in applause. People high-fived, fist bumped, hip bumped and chest bumped. Caramba, Ted thought, you’d think they just won the Super Bowl. “It took you five minutes to break into one of the most secure computer systems in the world.” Janet Petersen’s voice cut through the celebration. Ted leaned back in his chair. There was a lot to learn here. If Justin could break into Millennium Systems network, he could hack any system in the world. He smiled to himself. What he can do, I can do. You have been given great power, my son. Use it wisely.   ****

37.   Donna put her cleaning cart in the closet, punched out on her time card, removed the rubber band from her ponytail and shook her hair free. She had let the streaks of gray show in her chestnut brown hair for this assignment. Donning a ratty, old wool coat, she stepped out of the downtown high-rise and made her way to the corner bus stop. Her timing was precise. The ST545 bus pulled up only moments after her arrival. On the long bus ride across Lake Washington to the Bear Creek Park N Ride lot in Redmond, Donna read a Susan Wiggs novel and tried to decompress. She didn’t want to bring the stress of work home. The sun crept over the Cascade Mountains as she disembarked. The Park’N’Ride lot was just beginning to get busy. She walked the short distance to a silver-blue BMW X5 SUV. Clicking her key fob flashed the lights on the BMW and started the engine. She climbed in and pulled out of the Park’N’Ride lot. She hummed an old Marvin Gaye song along with the oldies station on the satellite radio as she drove into the long, curved driveway of her large brick-fronted home. The gardeners must have been here yesterday. All of the leaves had been raked up.

38. The garage door opened at the touch of the remote control. She backed into the garage, killed the engine and just sat for a minute, still humming I Heard it Through the Grapevine and smiling to herself. Stepping out of her vehicle, she removed her old coat and put it, along with her battered purse, in a locker near the SUV. She removed her gray, cleaning lady dress and donned a stylish Nike track suit. She kicked off the clunky cleaning lady shoes and slipped into mulie slippers. Her wedding band set sat on a shelf in the locker. She slipped it onto her finger. “I’m home, honey. Are the kids up?” She stepped through the door from the garage into a kitchen filled with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. She reached into the light-stained oak cupboard over the stove and grabbed a pair of coffee cups. The aroma of fresh coffee, from the automatic coffee machine, called seductively to her. “Hi, Hon.” Her husband entered the kitchen pulling on a light jacket. “How was work last night?”  “The usual. Are the kids ready to go?” She planted a light peck on his lips. A teenage boy and girl swept into the kitchen, grabbed breakfast bars, and blew through to the garage. “Tammy, Billy, good morning,” she called after them. “How’s school going?

39. “Not now, Mom,” the girl yelled back over her shoulder. “I need to be there early today.” “What’re your plans today, Bill?” Donna asked as her husband reached for the door knob. “I’m going to make a Costco run, then I have the furnace repair guy coming for annual maintenance. I’m hoping to clean the fish tank and vacuum. I’ll try to keep everybody quiet so that you can get some sleep. Bye, Hon.” “Bye, guys.” Donna stood holding two coffee cups as her family disappeared into the garage. She heard the garage door open and Bill’s Hummer pull out. She looked at Bill’s cup, then shrugged and sat it on the counter. She took her coffee into her office and sat on the comfortable swivel chair in front of her desk. While she booted up her computer, she sat for a moment, glancing at the cup in her hand. It had a big pink heart on it and said “The World’s Greatest Mom.” For just a second, her heart felt heavy, then a long, elegant Seal point Siamese cat jumped into her lap. She rubbed his ears and he began to purr. “At least somebody’s glad to see me.” The morning light broke through the gloom. A pair of doves picked seeds from the bird feeder outside her window. The sunflowers along the

40. cedar fence were at the height of their glory. When she reached for the mouse, the cat attacked her hand. Then he jumped onto the desk and batted at the moving cursor on the computer screen. Donna laughed and double-clicked on an icon on her screen. “That’s a very bad cursor, Maxie. It must be punished.” The Cisco VPN application opened. She gently picked up Maxie and cuddled him in her lap, then clicked on the DigiGuard link, clicked on the “Connect” icon and was challenged for her credentials. She entered her user ID, pin number, the constantly changing code from the SecurID token on her key chain, then her pass code and waited for a minute for the virtual private network to connect to her work network. A popup box on her screen prompted her to scan her fingerprint. The best security is something you know, something you have and something you are, she thought. The logo for her company, DigiGuard Security, flashed on the screen along with the usual legal warning notice that she was entering a private network. She clicked “OK” and went to work. Her email in-box was full. She rubbed Maxie’s head and sorted through the items. Her assistant had scheduled two meetings later in the afternoon. She had an email from the vice-president and another from the controller. Maxie stretched and rubbed his head against her cheeks.

41. The last item on her list was marked urgent. The message was comprised of only six words. “Donna, call me immediately. Urgent. Alison.”

42. Chapter 4    “Good morning, Mr. Chris.” The small Filipino nurse pushed back the drapes. “Today’s your big day.” “Morning, Maria.” Chris Hardwick sat up in his bed. “I can’t wait to get out of here.” He tossed his head to get his shaggy blonde locks out of his deep blue eyes. “I don’t remember the last time I saw the sun shine.”   “There’s not much danger of you seeing that today, Mr. Chris. The weatherman says it’s going to rain all day.” Chris was dying to get out of the hospital room. He hated the institutional gray walls, Formica covered cabinets, the IV stand by his bedside. He couldn’t get the IV out of the back of his hand soon enough. That had to be the worst part of his hospital stay. No, the second worst. The catheter tube was the worst.  “Maria, I want to thank you for all of your help. You’ve been the best.” “Just doing my job, Mr. Chris.” She smiled as she recorded his vital signs. “Besides, we have to take care of our big hero, don’t we?” Chris’ heart skipped a beat; he felt tears forming in his eyes. Hero? They stopped the al-Qaeda terrorist, saved Dad and Sarah, but he lost Meagan.

43. Unconsciously, he rubbed the left side of his chest. The bandage was just under his collar bone. That’s where the bullet had penetrated his lung. There was a matching bandage on his back where the bullet exited his body. I’ve got to think about something else. Being in a hospital setting, seeing Maria, made him think of Mom. “Did I tell you that my mom was a nurse? Actually, she was a nurse’s assistant. That’s how she met my dad.” “Really? She’s been gone a long time, hasn’t she?” Maria took his wrist and felt for his pulse. “Yeah. . . She died my senior year of high school.” An awkward pause filled the room. Chris didn’t like to think about his mom dying either. This was getting rough. Now he had two things he couldn’t think about. He needed to teach himself to think about the good memories. “Hey, Chris-O!” Sarah Hardwick breezed in through the open door. “You’re getting out today.” Chris could hardly believe his eyes. The last time he saw his little sister, she had been a Goth. Black hair, black lipstick, black nail polish. She dressed in nothing but black, with black combat boots and wore a studded leather collar around her neck.

44. The sister he remembered from before Mom died peeled off a tan rain jacket. Her short, sandy brown hair matched Dad’s hair color. She wore jeans with new Reebok sneakers and a Gap sweatshirt. She even had red nail polish. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” “I decided that today’s a big day for us. We’ve both starting our lives over. Like Mom used to say, we get a ‘redo.’” “How are you starting your life over?” “I started classes today.” Sarah raised her hands in the air and twirled around. “Surprised?” He was. Sarah was adamant that she wouldn’t follow Dad and him to the University of Washington. “But I thought . . .” “I didn’t do it for Dad, I did it for you. I’m moving into your house. I’m going to take care of you while you recover. I figured that I had to have something to do, so I went ahead and enrolled in school.” “You’re moving in with me? There’s only two bedrooms. Where’re you going to sleep?” “That’s all worked out. Ted’s already found another apartment. He’s moved all of his stuff.” Ted’s moved out? “He hasn’t said a word to me.”

45. “I wanted it to be a surprise. SURPRISE!” She tossed her hands in the air again. Chris didn’t know what to think. “Don’t I get a vote in this?” Ted had been his roommate since freshman year of college. He couldn’t imagine not living with that crazy hermano. On the other hand, he was getting his sister back. Since Mom died, Sarah had been off in her own little world. They used to be so close and she had completely shut him out. Maybe this can be a good thing.   ****   “Adelita se llama la joven.” Ted always sang Papa’s old Mexican songs when he cooked. He flopped the large pork loin onto the cutting board. “A quien yo quiero y no puedo olvidar.” There was no one around to hear him butcher the tune. Butcher the tune? Ted slapped the pork loin with the flat of his hand and chuckled. Teddito, you’ve still got it. He loved cooking. It made him feel close to Papa, close to his roots. He thought back on all the Saturdays he spent with his dad cleaning the kitchen in the restaurant where Papa worked, the evenings peeling onions, chopping lettuce, always under his father’s watchful eye. He could feel Papa’s hand on his shoulder as he showed Ted how to hold the knife.

46. He pulled an oak-handled carving knife from the knife block. It had that familiar feel. Everything else in the kitchen may be junk, but Papa had sent him away from home with a good set of knives. He ran the blade through an automatic knife sharpener. Papa’d have a fit if he saw me doing this. His father always insisted that knives be sharpened by hand on a whetstone. That was the only way to get the edge right he said. Chris’ dad bought the eighty-year old Craftsman-style house in the University District for Chris to live in while he went to school. This old place had been home for Chris and Ted for the last three years. To Ted, the big old kitchen felt comfortable. It wasn’t new and it didn’t have all the modern conveniences, but it was homey. Glass-doored cabinets revealed Chris and Ted’s collection of assorted serving ware. “Garage-sale modern” was how Chris referred to it. Now Chris was coming home. Ted and Sarah spent the previous day cleaning the house and moving the last of Ted’s belongings to his new apartment. Sarah didn’t have a lot to move in. They had accomplished that with one load in the Hardwick’s old Suburban. Chris would’ve blown a gasket over that. Me, driving his mom’s old car. How did he feel about moving out? Ted brushed back the lock of black hair that always fell in his eyes. They had some good times here. He

47. had never felt as close to anyone as he did to Chris. Still . . . he was starting a new chapter in his life. This would be good. Exciting. New. The pork loin was a big piece of meat, maybe seven pounds. Ted delicately carved it in quarter-inch thick slices. He peeled and sliced several onions and a pineapple, then threaded the pork slices onto a spit until they were about an inch thick. He put on a layer of onion, then another pork layer followed by a layer of pineapple slices. Then he started over again with a pork layer. The spit was full of the meat/onion/pineapple slices. He secured the end prong and set the spitted meat down over the sink, then brushed on the rich adobado sauce from the bowl of his food processor. Life would be different now, but what was next? Chris was going to be okay.  It didn’t matter whether he went to law school or not. He was getting out of the hospital and he would be as good as new. The image of Chris, dropped by terrorist bullets, flashed into his mind. For an instant, he was back on the sailboat far up Canada’s Inside Passage. He saw their friend Jack, lying on the cockpit floor, bullet holes in his chest. He shook his head. For the most part, he had driven these images out of his waking mind. He didn’t think about them all the time anymore. It was the night that haunted him.

48. In the early morning hours, the horror came back. He found himself caught in the explosion, flying through the air, plunged deep into the frigid water. He saw the missile launch and knew he could do nothing to stop it. But the worse nightmare of all was when he woke screaming, feeling something warm and sticky running into his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. He would lift Meagan off of him and see the glazed look in her eyes. “Ouch!” Ted cut his finger with the super-sharp knife. “Damn.” I’ve got to pay attention to what I’m doing. “Shit.” He held his finger to his mouth while he reached in the cabinet for a Band-Aid. He took the spit to the back porch and placed it on the barbeque. The short roof over-hang protected the grill from the rain. The tiny lanai at his new apartment would just about hold the big grill. Ted loved the third burner in the back of the grill for the rotisserie so that the meat juice didn’t drip down into the fire and flare up. Turning on the motor, he slipped back inside the house with a grin on his face. “Meow.” Oscar, Meagan’s cat, rubbed against Ted’s ankles. “Hey, little guy.” Ted reached down and scooped up the sable Burmese. He had never liked cats. His family never had pets when he was growing up. Papa refused to have anything living under his roof that didn’t pay its own way.

49. When he was on the boat with Chris and Meagan, Ted had done everything in his power to keep the cat away from him. But, somehow, Oscar adopted him. After Meagan was killed in the terrorist attack, Oscar came home to live with Ted. Now he ruled the house with an iron paw. Ted smelled the sweet aroma of the meat roasting on the rotisserie. Tacos al pastor was one of his best dishes. It impressed people whenever he served it. Ted scratched Oscar’s ears and took a pull on his Corona. No matter what internal demons chased him, cooking always centered him, brought him back to his roots.   ***   “You guys about ready?” Candace pushed the wheelchair into the stark hospital room. For an instant, the old resentment rose in Chris’ throat. He choked it down. What the hell, I guess I’m going to have to get used to her. After all, Candace was his new stepmom and he was too weary to hate anyone anymore. Dad could have done worse, but he was sort of robbing the cradle. Candace was closer to Chris’ age than she was to Dad’s. Chris eyed

50. Candace as she adjusted the foot rests on the wheelchair. With her long legs, large breasts, long black hair and emerald green eyes, she could grace the cover of Playboy. Still, there’s more to her than looks. She’s wicked smart. Dad saw that right away. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you dressed.” Sarah pulled clothes out of a Nordstrom shopping bag. “Candace and I got you all new stuff.” She laid out underwear, jeans, a white T-shirt, a Husky’s sweatshirt, socks and sneakers on the bed. “You went shopping with Candace?” Chris felt that old bitterness rise up in his throat. That’s getting a little chummy. He took a deep breath and stifled it. “You guys aren’t going to stand there and watch me dress are you?”   “No time for modesty now, bro.” Sarah ripped back the covers. “We’re breaking you out of here.” By the time Harry, Chris’ dad, entered the room with a bag of drugs from the pharmacy, Chris was dressed. Harry was tall like Chris, but he carried a few extra pounds. His sandy brown hair just began to show flecks of gray.  “How’s the hero today?” Harry asked. “I wish you’d stop saying that, Dad. I’m not a hero.”