2 The Dante Connection (12 page)

“It’s okay. Phillip knows me.”

“Let me hear what Colin has to say,” Phillip said. I was surprised and it must have shown. “I don’t trust him more, Genevieve. He might possibly give it a different perspective.”

“I think Francine would be a good choice for this,” Colin said. “She only hacked into Jenny’s computer to prove her point on how easy it was to access your system.”

“It’s that easy?” Phillip almost never raised his voice. Not like now.

“It doesn’t look like you’re doing a better job than me telling the story,” I whispered to Colin. “You’re upsetting him.”

“He doesn’t care about being upset with
me
,” Colin whispered back. I was sure Phillip could hear us, which made our whispers redundant.

“Oh.” I sat back in my chair just as Manny joined us. He was looking at something on his smartphone, flipping through images.

“When can Francine come in?” Phillip asked.

“I don’t think she actually needs to be here to secure anything,” Colin said.

“There was some sort of something on the back of the painting.” Manny’s off-topic announcement was delivered with a graveness that delivered a shot of adrenaline to my system.

“Was that what the phone call was about?” I asked. His demeanour had changed since his phone call. Something was wrong.

“Yes. They sent me photos.” He tilted his smartphone towards us.

“If you give me your phone, I can upload it to my computer and we can all see it.”

“What about the hacker? Is it safe?” Manny asked.

“I’ll disconnect from the company’s server and from the internet. That way nobody will have access to anything on my computers in here.” I turned towards my computer and did exactly that. Once it was done, I held out my hand for Manny’s phone which he reluctantly handed over. Fortunately I had the correct cable at hand and not even a minute later, the photos were up on the monitors.

“Go to the first one,” Manny said. I clicked on the first photo. It was a close-up of some device. “That is the explosives box.”

“There was an explosives box?” Saying those words felt strange in my mouth. I didn’t even know if Manny was using the correct terminology.

“Missy, it was a real bomb. It had everything…” He pointed to the monitors. “Let’s start with the third photo.”

I clicked on the third photo and it filled the monitors. My eyebrows shot up and my jaw muscles lost some of their strength. Laid out on the carpet were many parts of what I supposed was the bomb. To me it all looked like electronic bits and pieces. Sinister bits and pieces. All of which could have meant my end.

“That is your bomb.” Manny pointed at the monitor. “The pressure plate is that largest part. The wire connected it to the casing which was behind the painting.”

“What about the thermometer?” Colin asked.

“They think it was placed there simply to make the wire running behind the painting look less suspicious. The thermometer was an empty box. That red box next to the thermometer was the bomb. Only it wasn’t a bomb.”

I squinted at the red box which looked about the size of a large smartphone, just thicker. “What do you mean it wasn’t a bomb? You told me it was a bomb.”

“The bomb guys say that the bomb had everything it needed except for explosives,” Manny said.

“That is why Edward’s machine didn’t smell any explosives.”

“Yes. The pressure plate would’ve triggered the explosion if you had stepped off the plate or even just shifted your weight. Some pressure plates trigger the bomb the moment it’s stepped on. We were lucky.”

“We were lucky because there weren’t any explosives,” Colin said. “Why would someone build a bomb, go through this elaborate effort to get Jenny there and not put any explosives in it?”

“Apparently he really didn’t want any harm to come to her.” Manny nodded at the monitors again. “The wires were neatly placed where it should have been, but the plugs weren’t even connected to the receptacles on the pressure plate or the red box. Even if there had been explosives in there, it would never have gone off.”

“Again. Why?” Colin asked.

“Sadly this is not the only mystery we have. Doc, go back to the first photo.” Manny waited until the red box was on the monitor again. “Can you zoom in?”

“What am I looking at?” I asked as I zoomed in on the red box. Up close it looked like it could be from any material covered in shiny red paint. “I don’t see anything but the box.”

“Go to the next photo. They shone a black light on it and something interesting came up.”

“You mean an ultraviolet light?” I clicked on the next image. This image was dark, only the outlines visible. But it was clear that it was the same object. This photo was taken up close and I didn’t have to zoom in. What was visible on this image were rows and rows of numbers. “What is that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, Doc. You’re the genius.” We were all leaning forward, frowning at the monitors. “The bomb guys think it is code.”

“What code?” I knew that computer people like Francine often talked about writing code, but I had no knowledge of this. “I don’t know how to program computers.”

“That is not computer code,” Colin said.

“And how would you know, Frey?” Manny glared past me at Colin. “Have another crime to add to your growing list?”

“Then what do you think it is?” I asked Colin, ignoring Manny. “Something that we need a cryptographer for?”

“Actually, yes. It might be a code, even if it’s not computer code. I think that this sicko left another message for you.” Colin looked away from the screen, worry pulling at his eyes. “He’s playing games, Jenny. Like a cat plays with a mouse.”

“That’s enough,” Phillip said. “We don’t need anyone to get anymore scared. Let’s be proactive. Do you know how to decipher this?”

I studied the strings of numbers. “They seem to be organised in batches. Look there. You can see groupings of three sets of numbers.”

“I see that.” Manny grabbed my laser pointer off my desk and aimed it at the monitor. “Those three are separated by one dash and a double dash separates the groupings. Well done, Doc. What does this mean?”

“I don’t know.” I knew I sounded defensive, but looking at rows of numbers did not enlighten me at all to its meaning or purpose. “If it is a cipher, it could be one of many. My knowledge of ciphers is not extensive, so I’ll have to research this.”

Colin cleared his throat. “I can help you with this.”

Manny’s lips tightened, his jaw jutted and the
orbicularis oculi
muscles contracted his eyes. But he didn’t say anything.

“Colin, what do you know about this cipher?” Phillip asked.

“There are so many possibilities, but if I had to guess, I would say it was a book cipher,” Colin said.

“Like the Ottendorf cipher?” Even with my limited knowledge, I had come across this. “But we need a book for this.”

“What exactly are you two talking about?” Manny asked. From the corner of my eye I saw Colin’s posture change and I knew he was going to react to Manny’s annoyance. I sighed.

“I will explain. And I’ll do it simply. The Ottendorf cipher gives you three sets of numbers that refers to the page, line and letter in a book. The first number indicates the page, the second number indicates the line on that page and the third number would be the corresponding number letter in that line. If you have the correct edition of the book, you can decrypt the cipher quite quickly.”

“Do you think the book could have something to do with the painting?” Manny asked. It was times like now that he proved his astute detective skills.

“Possibly, but that would be gross conjecture.”

“And you don’t conjecturise.” Manny grunted.

I held it in for a few moments, but then couldn’t stop myself. “Conjecturise is not a word. Conjecture is the verb. Or you can use speculate, hypothesise, conclude, extrapolate or even guess. But never conjecturise.”

The viewing room was silent. I didn’t look at Colin, but knew from the change in his breathing that he found this amusing. Phillip’s expression had also relaxed into the beginning of a smile. Manny? He looked exasperated.

“Missy, just tell me if you can decode this Ottoman code.”

“Ottendorf cipher.” I bit my lips together to stop another tirade about the correct usage of terms and vocabulary. Once I felt more in control of my tongue, I continued. “Unless I know which book and which edition to look at, this cipher is useless to me.”

“But we can look at the different factors in the email and the painting and see if we can come up with a few books that could be the key,” Colin said.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Phillip nodded at Colin and turned his gaze on me. “Why would someone target you?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t socialise, not in real life nor on the internet. When I’m not here, I’m at home reading or working.”

“What about your past?” Manny asked. “Have you worked other places, had contact with other people you could’ve pissed off?”

I thought about this. Whenever I found myself in a social setting, I made a point of not speaking to anyone. And when I did, I endeavoured to apply my years of observation and training. Personally, I thought I had been quite successful, even if I could only manage for two hours at the most to uphold my level of sociability. I shook my head.

“What about the universities?” Phillip asked.

“What about it?” I asked. Manny scowled and I knew I was going to have to explain. “Sometimes I’m asked to guest lecture at a few of the universities in the area.”

“And last year you wrote that paper that caused such a controversy.”

“It didn’t cause a controversy,” I said.

“Tell me about the paper, Doc.” Manny leaned forward in his chair.

“Every year I write a few academic papers. It is purely of my own interest and is not done to be published or to cause controversy. About eight months ago one of my articles
was published. It was regarding the successful treatment of non-neurotypical patients. In it I made a negative remark about narrative therapy. As it happens, a professor had published a paper a few months prior that supported narrative therapy. It was in complete contradiction of my paper, but I never once referred to it. As a matter of fact, I haven’t even read it. This man took it as a personal attack on his paper and went to the dean.”

“The controversy?” Manny prompted.

“Phillip exaggerates. There wasn’t a controversy. The professor was just indignant and I was called into a mediation meeting. Everything was settled.” I groaned when Phillip loudly cleared his throat. “Okay, it wasn’t a good meeting. I stayed quiet for a long time while this professor insulted my paper. I had heard that he had been going through a difficult time and I thought that explained his behaviour. But then he said that my grammar was flawed.”

“And that set you off?” There was laughter in Manny’s voice.

“Set me off? It made me furious. I am proficient in four languages and know for a fact that my French grammar is flawless.” It had been such an inane argument and I still cringed to think how angry I had been. “After a few angry things were said, the dean stepped in and we made peace. See, it was nothing.”

“Grammar.” Manny slumped in his chair. “I can’t see how that could be motive for bomb-making. What a strange life you live, Doc.”

“Your strange is my normal.” I shrugged. “A few other academics have been unhappy with my commentary on their papers, but I truly cannot see any of them building bombs.”

“Just send me a list of those names so we can check them out and make sure, Doc.”

“You’ll be wasting your time.” There was no way these unimaginative academics would resort to anything this violent. I had, however, learned to never say never. “Fine, I’ll send it to you. But I’m not going to waste any more time on that. I would rather speak to Francine about the software link between the security companies and also look into this cipher.”

Chapter ELEVEN

I sank down in my sofa and took a sip of coffee. It had been another night of restless sleep. My mind had refused to switch off. Not being able to speak to Francine last night only added to the frustration. By the time I had come home, she had settled in for the night and I couldn’t get myself to insist on speaking to her. She needed to heal. I needed her well so she could help me.

“What are you doing up?” Colin looked sleepy as he walked towards me. He was favouring his right leg again. I assumed that sleeping caused the leg to stiffen up some. Surely he knew that he should do stretching exercises. I pushed aside my thoughts. Most times people didn’t appreciate unsolicited advice.

He was wearing blue and white striped pyjama bottoms and a white vest and his hair was mussed. He stopped at the sofa and gave an uninhibited stretch combined with a jaw-cracking yawn. I envied his lack of decorum. I would be too aware of the people around me to act with such familiarity. He lowered his arms with a satisfied sound and looked at the time on the antique clock behind me. “It’s not even five yet.”

“I’ve been up for an hour already.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” He sat down on the sofa next to me and looked longingly at my coffee.

“Go make your own coffee, Colin.” I pulled the mug closer to my chest. “I don’t share.”

“Not even a sip?” He gave me his charming smile. The one I hated. “Please, Jenny.”

“No.”

He smiled. A real smile. “You’re too easy to rile.”

“Then don’t rile me.” I sighed. “Why do you do it?”

“That is how people sometimes connect with each other. Not everything has to always be serious. Not every sentence has to have great significance.”

“I know that.” I had the degrees in psychology to prove it. “I just never see the sense in teasing and bantering.”

“The sense is that it helps people relax. It is fun and it is funny. It might be something you could consider.”

“Why? I don’t need to be funny.”

“It’s not about need, Jenny. It’s about want. Sometimes we do things that are a complete waste of time, but it gives us pleasure.”

“Like you and Vinnie playing games on my television? Although, studies have shown computer games boost auditory perception, improve hand-eye coordination and enhance split-second decision-making.”

“And yet we do it only for fun.”

“Why?”

Colin gave it some thought. “Don’t you sometimes just want to escape from this reality? Even if it is only for a few moments. To go someplace where there are none of these pressures, problems and responsibilities.”

“I have a place like that.”

“Your head,” he said. “What about a world that someone else created?”

“Hmm, no. When I read a truly good book, I still find so many inaccuracies in it that it is not relaxing. But I do remember reading an article about the need women have for romance novels. They stated some of your reasons to explain the high demand for such reading material.”

“Wait. You never want to just get out of your own head?”

“No. Like I said, if I need a break from this reality, I go into my own head. It’s a safe place.”

“With Mozart.”

“Yes.” The front door opening stopped our conversation. Colin jumped off the chair and grabbed a bronze sculpture I had bought in Hungary. As the door opened wider, he lifted the sculpture and I mourned the damage to such a valuable piece. A long leg, dressed in denim and with a very unburglar-like pink knitted house boot, came into view first. Another step and Francine appeared. Colin lowered the sculpture and I relaxed.

Francine first looked at me and then frowned at Colin when she noticed the sculpture. “You were going to hit me with that? Do you not know the value of it?”

“Of course I know how valuable it is.” He carefully put it back on the side table. It was a modern piece, the value not known by most people unless they had an abnormal, or illegal, interest in art. He adjusted it to be almost in the exact same place as before. “I just think that our lives are more valuable.”

“Word.” She closed the front door and joined us in the living area. The swelling of her eye had gone down with only a small bump still visible around the cut. Even that looked much better than before. The bruising though looked terrible. It was at its worst colouring with the haemoglobin in the blood around her eye changed, resulting in an angry dark blue-purple. She still moved carefully and would for a few weeks. Ribs took a long time to heal.

“What are you doing here, Francine?” Colin asked. He sat down next to me and Francine settled in the other sofa. Colin had easily accepted Francine’s entrance and she was being nonchalant, as if she entered my flat uninvited every day. Did I have no privacy from these people?

“I saw the lights were on and thought I’d come tell Genevieve what I discovered.”

“Wait,” I said. “How did you see the lights were on?”

“If I’m on my room’s balcony and twist just a little so, I can see these windows.” She waved at the large windows in front of me. That meant that I would also be able to see Colin’s apartment. I sighed.

“Could I have some coffee, please?” She looked at Colin. “Vinnie won’t allow me to use the coffee machine in your place. He calls me a danger to any kitchen.”

Colin got up. “It’s because you are dangerous in a kitchen. I was in need of coffee too. Jenny, can I top you up?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like more coffee?” His smile reminded me of our earlier conversation.

“Oh.” I looked at the mug in my hands. It was almost empty. I held it out to Colin. “Yes, please.”

Colin went to the kitchen and got busy there. I turned to Francine. A moment before I asked her about her discoveries, I considered my words. My conversation with Colin reminded me of my lack of social skills. My lack of friendship skills. What was the right thing to say? “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Francine looked surprised. “Better, thanks. Yesterday was not a good day. I don’t think I’ve ever been to bed before midnight, but yesterday I went to sleep at seven o’clock. I woke up around three this morning feeling reborn. That was when I got to working again. Yesterday I couldn’t concentrate worth shit, which was why I just gave up and went to sleep.”

“What did you discover?” It was hard to keep the impatience out of my voice. Small talk was so difficult. Francine’s smile told me that she recognised my effort for what it was.

“The stupid idiot hacker went back to his usual haunts. He tried to mask his presence, but I got him.”

“That’s fantastic.” I said and got up to fetch my phone. “We should tell Manny.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“But you said you got him.” I sat back down. Colin joined us with three mugs on a tray. Next to the mugs was a plate with cookies. Vinnie’s oat cookies. There was indeed some benefit to having them all back in my life and my apartment. I took my coffee and two cookies.

Francine closed her eyes and sighed. Admitting failure was difficult for most people. “He logged on only for a short while. It wasn’t enough time to find him past the tunnelling and zombie computers he is using to hide his IP. But I’m watching him. He’s the type of guy who won’t be able to stay away from those sites. He’s already proved it and I know he’ll be back. I’ll get him.”

“Will he know that you’re watching, waiting for him?” I asked. “The last time you hacked this guy, you got beaten up.”

“He won’t know a thing.” She took a sip of her coffee. “This morning when I was poking around the stuff I had copied from his system and I saw few interesting things. I looked at his internet history.”

“The sites he visited?” I asked.

“Yes. And your name came up a few times. This guy has been reading all about you on the internet.”

“There’s nothing about me on the internet.”

“Au contraire, mon amie. There is a lot about you on the net. Every time you publish an article it goes online. All those articles are on numerous sites. Your lectures have also been blogged about, discussed on student forums and recorded by the universities.”

How could I not know this? I considered myself internet-proficient. “Is there any personal information about me?”

“Not that I could find. The hacker definitely didn’t find any personal information about you on the internet. He mostly just read your articles.”

“Maybe he is a student,” I said.

“That is not a bad assumption,” Colin said. “We should get the lists of students who attended your lectures.”

“Already done,” Francine said. “The universities’ sites were too easy to get into. I checked all Genevieve’s guest lectures and got the lists of the students who had signed up for them.”

“Those lists might not be accurate,” I said. “Sometimes the students who signed up don’t come, and others come from different faculties. There are always other professors who also attend my lectures. Usually there are not enough seats, so people sit on the floor or stand at the back.”

“The lists might just give us a starting point,” Francine said. She pressed her fist against her lips. People did this when they were trying to hold back something. She removed her hand, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Your lectures are really that popular?”

“Yes. I am considered the top in my field. Attending one of my lectures is quite a privilege.”

“And I suppose the fact that you only give a few lectures a year makes it even more desired.”

“I suppose it would,” I said. “What else was he researching on the internet?”

“Well, he spent an unhealthy amount of time looking at porn.”

“Definitely a student,” Colin said. I decided not to contradict him with statistics.

“Definitely a man,” Francine said. “He also looked at the weather a lot. Strange man. He visited a few websites about the president and his wife. I think it is mostly related to the elections and politics. Then he visited a few sites more relevant to this case. There were also sites about burglary and cat burglary. And a few museums and galleries, but he didn’t spend a lot of time there. He didn’t hack my great-uncle’s security company’s system again, but he did hack a few others.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Four that I saw. The most recent one he hacked has over three hundred thousand clients in France. But he was looking at a specific client’s file. He was looking at it for a long time.”

“Do you think that will be the next target?”

“I’m pretty sure of it. I was watching him work his way through this client’s file. I saw everything he was looking at. He was going through the list of the valuables in the client’s house and where they were held. He copied all the security info onto his computer.”

“What security information does he have?” I asked.

“Codes, passwords, where the keys are kept, everything.”

“We should tell Manny.” I sighed when I noticed the corners of Colin’s mouth pulled down, his lips thinned. “I’m not going to argue about this. Manny needs to know.”

“You’re right,” Francine said. “I think it’s best if you deal with him though.”

“Me?” I pointed at my chest.

“Can’t you get this intel to him without involving yourself or Jenny?” Colin asked.

Francine’s eyes widened and a gleeful smile pulled at her lips. “Oh yes, I can do that. I can do that and so much more.”

My question about this died in my mouth when my front door opened again.

“It’s me. Don’t shoot.” Vinnie walked into my apartment with one hand raised. His other hand was holding a paper shopping bag to his chest. “I come bearing gifts.”

He closed the door and turned to us with a smile. Francine smiled back at him and Colin nodded at him in greeting. Something snapped in me. I put my coffee mug on the side table with a bit too much force. “You can’t just come and go in my apartment as you please. What is the use of those locks if you people just dismiss the importance of it? I know that a lock is no challenge for any of you, but does it not symbolise my need for privacy? Have you no respect for that? No respect for me?”

“Aw, Jen-girl…” Vinnie walked closer with worry and guilt on his face, but stopped when I got up and shook my head.

“No, don’t ‘aw’ me. I’m just beginning to accept your reappearance in my life and now you want me to accept your disrespect?” My hands started shaking from the emotional overload. “Forget it. I’m going to have a shower and get ready for the day. In the privacy of my room. I’m going to lock the doors and would like you to respect that.”

As fast as I could, I walked to my bedroom. A moment before I slammed my bedroom door, Vinnie called out to me. “Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes.”

The slam of the door cut off his last word, but I had heard the apology in his tone. I locked two of the locks to my reinforced bedroom door and walked to the bathroom. There I also locked the door and sat down on the toilet lid. Upon consideration I had to admit that I was overreacting. What was causing this emotional reaction?

I analysed my emotions and my reactions with detached professionalism and cringed at the truths I had to face. I was lashing out in fear that these people, my friends, were going to worm their way into my life again just to leave.