Blood Money (6 page)

CHAPTER 10

Tuesday morning, Mark's breakfast was interrupted by his cell phone.

“Mark, good morning. Is this a good time?”

Sue had called him during a Denny's Grand Slam breakfast.

“Susan, I was wondering when I'd hear from you. I was just about to dig into some eggs, sausages and bacon. You know where. What's up?”

“I'm ready to go forward with your project. I did some test runs late last night and I have a pretty good idea how to get the data we're after. The problem I have is that my office operates around-the-clock, so that there are only a few time slots where I can use the system with complete privacy.” Susan's private office was off-limits to Mark for security reasons. “I never know when we'll get a sudden call from a client for some maintenance work requiring me to stand down on the system. Timing is another thing. The records I want to piggyback with ‘LEECH' can be sent only once a day by the Service Bureau, and that's the time when I have at least four operators on duty. In short, I just can't guarantee the privacy or availability we will need.”

She hesitated for a few minutes to let the obvious sink in. “We need to operate in a safe and secure environment without any time constraints. Is there any chance that I could come down there and we could use your office computer system?”

“Well sure.” he said, while his mind raced ahead to consider the ramifications. “But what about the data trails?”

“Not to worry, the data tags we'll use will bounce around cyberspace like a pinball. I guarantee there will be no way to trace anything back to your computer. The way my program works, the output will end up in either Europe or Asia. When the file is eventually addressed to your computer, the record of the transaction will be erased automatically. There is absolutely nothing for you to be concerned about. You have my word on that.”

“I don't have any idea how you do that stuff, but I'll take your word for it. When did you want to do it?”

“Tomorrow morning at nine is when the Service Bureau does its next processing with the NRBA. I'll need about a half-hour to load all my software and to set up the data relays. I'll be going into their system in the guise of the local Service Bureau in Mansfield I told you about. I'll be piggybacking an actual data run. First, I need to make one quick pass at the Association's system to pick up their current internal password. They change them every hour, which means I need to get in between eight and eight-forty to pick it up. It will only take me about three minutes. Just to be safe, sometime around eight-ten would work well for what I have to do. Nine o'clock will be the actual ‘zero' hour. I can meet you at your office a little before eight.”

“If it's going to be that early, why don't you come down here tonight so you'll be fresh in the morning. I have a spare bedroom. We can do the processing on my home computer. It's better equipped. We'll have complete privacy. I should have all the bells and whistles you'll need. If not, we can dial them up, even connect to your system if we need to. What do you say?”

“That sounds like a great idea. I could be there around seven tonight.”

“That's great, Sue. You know, since that's dinner hour, why don't you plan on having dinner here. I make a great lasagna and salad. Do you still like Chianti?”

“You bet I do. I'll see you later tonight, then.”

“Great, I'll see you at seven.”

He finished his plate and signaled for a coffee refill. He added some cream, two packets of sweetener, stirred up the mixture and sat back to daydream a little about the coming evening. He couldn't speak for her, but he certainly would welcome a serious relationship into his life about now, even one involving a three to four hour drive. He was nearing his mid-thirties. It was time to do some serious thinking about settling down. His business was certainly going great.
What the heck am I waiting for?
The longest serious relationship he ever had was his ill-fated engagement to Cynthia Turnquist. By the time he called off the engagement, some part of him had built a shield as a protection against being misled again.
That may have caused me to miss out on some good opportunities along the way. Maybe all that could change now, with Sue back in my life. Then again, maybe I'm expecting too much. She may just be looking for another mental challenge. Something to keep her brain synapses going
. There were an awful lot of maybes in the equation, so he decided it would probably be best to just play it by ear. Later that day, on the way home, Mark picked up everything he would need to make his mother's lasagna recipe and a long loaf of Italian bread at Wal-Mart. Then he headed to the Arrow Wine store to pick up her favorite brand of Chianti. He planned to make everything as perfect as he possibly could.

Sue arrived ten minutes early. She parked her silver Toyota Avalon in the driveway behind his Honda. Mark has a garage, but prefers to have his wheels right outside the back door. In reality, the motor for the automatic door opener is shot. He doesn't follow the example that his father set of making needed repairs immediately and not letting them pile up. He used the side door of the garage whenever he needed to get anything out of there. The truth of the matter is that Mark is not very handy, and keeps forgetting to call someone in to make the repairs.

Mark greeted Sue at the front door to help her with the overnight bag and attaché case. She wore light denim jeans and a gray University of Missouri hoodie. It really didn't much matter what she wore, she always looked so great to him.

“Here, let me take that,” he said as he reached to take the bag from her. “Come on in. I'll put this in your room. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room while I tend to our meal.” He pointed to the great room off to the left of the main entrance way.

“Let me freshen up a bit first. Which way?”

“Down the hall; the first door on the right.”

“I'll just be a minute.”

She went off in that direction as he closed the front door. He carried her bag to the guest room and headed to the kitchen to check the oven. The pre-heating was completed, so he put the lasagna in the oven and set the timer for forty minutes. The salad was already prepared and the Italian bread was sliced and covered with aluminum foil. He just needed to pop it into the oven for a few minutes while the food was cooling. He had the whole meal planned. There was time to sit and relax. Mark uncorked the Chianti, even went through the pretentious gesture of smelling the cork (as if he would know how it should smell).

It's funny about wine, and about alcohol in general, there is a significant difference in the overall enjoyment one gets from a quality brand. Mark remembered back to his college days, when the cheapest brand was almost always his choice. The initial bite was usually unpleasant, but by the time the bottom of the bottle was reached, he didn't much care. The moment of truth came the following morning. The hangover that he always got from the cheap booze was really severe, but he took it in stride in those days. In fact, it was sort of a badge of honor to wear for about ten to twelve hours. Mark was a good scout and earned a sash full of such “merit” badges.

The Chianti that Susan preferred was top of the line. Mark filled their glasses and carried them into the living room. He placed them on the sterling silver coasters that someone gave Cynthia and Mark when they announced their engagement. When they split up, he asked her if she wanted them and her reply was, “Whatever for?” They were too nice to throw out, and he certainly wasn't going through the embarrassment of returning them, so he kept them for a special occasion; tonight qualified. When Sue came back he gave her a quick tour of his house and the computer room so she could check out his computer equipment. Everything looked to be in order. After the tour, they returned to the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, the food will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“It sure does smell good. When did you have time to learn to cook, Mark?”

“Over the years, I watched my mother. She spent a lot of time cooking. It was one of the few times I could be alone with her and just shoot the breeze about my day at school and other stuff. She was a teacher, so she always had interesting stories to tell me about her day. Whenever she was cooking, I asked a lot of questions about the spices and cookware. I never forgot any of it. In fact, the lasagna we're having tonight was one of her favorite recipes.”

“That's cool. I like a man with a little domestic flair. I'm glad we'll have a few minutes to unwind. You wouldn't believe how heavy the traffic was on the way down here. How was it Saturday when you came back from Mansfield?”

“It was quite heavy, especially for a weekend afternoon. Americans have a love affair with their cars; Ohioans are no exception. I guess that will never change.” He handed her a glass of wine and raised his for a toast, “Here's to the successful completion of our project.” He wanted to toast “old times,” but thought that it might be inappropriate to do so.

“I'll certainly drink to that.” She took a sip, smiled and said, “You even remembered the brand I like. That was so sweet of you.”

“Sue, you never cease to amaze me. You have such a discriminating taste in wine. You should have been a wine taster instead of a computer whiz. Can you imagine having a cool job like that?”

“Well, truth be known, they spit out more than they actually drink. It's a pallet/tongue/breath kind of thing that doesn't include much swallowing. It's a very mechanical process. That's why they can just cleanse their pallet and go on to the next test glass. I think I'll stick to what I'm doing.” She smiled again and started looking around the room. “This room is so tastefully decorated. Is any of this your touch?”

“Gosh, no. Everything is the way my mother and father decorated it. It felt so comfortable that I didn't want to make any changes. I guess that makes me a bit of a sentimentalist,” he said apologetically.

“Don't say it that way. That's something you should be very proud of.”

“If you say so. I guess that's my feminine side showing.”

“Well, I like it. I noticed some trophies in your father's den. Was he an athlete?”

“My dad was many things, but athletic wasn't one of them. In fact, he looked down on all sports at any level. My small accomplishments were the exception. My parents came to most of my runs. The trophies were for high school cross-country. It was no big deal. They are for our team's championship seasons.” The wine was starting to hit him. He hadn't eaten anything since the Grand Slam breakfast, and that was ten hours ago. Of course, if Sue had seen the size of his plate, she would have said that he probably ate enough at that one breakfast to last for two days. His mind was racing to think of conversation starters, something that they hadn't already discussed during lunch in Mansfield and yet would be appropriate for the moment. He kept coming up with blanks. For some reason, he felt awkward.

Sue saved the day. “Have you ever considered selling this place and moving into a condo? You wouldn't have to concern yourself with lawn cutting or snow shoveling. Condo living sure makes my life simpler.”

“I must admit that I did think about it last year. I was very busy and we had a big snowstorm. Luckily, I have the downstairs computer so I could stay home. I had a realtor in, but when it came to deciding to leave a lifetime of memories behind, I backed out. I have a service that takes care of the lawn and snow removal, so it's not too bad.” They spent the interval until the timer went off reminiscing about the Pentagon days. Neither Sue nor Mark had kept in touch with their fellow “Hide and Seek” team members. He tried to start up a conversation about her two years in San Diego, but it became very clear that that was one subject she didn't want to discuss.
Maybe she had been involved in a love affair gone awry
. Mark decided to let it drop just as the timer buzzed.
Saved by the bell!
They moved out to the kitchen while he finished preparing the dinner. The table for two was set in a small alcove by a bay window, with a view of a beautifully manicured back lawn and gardens. It was the perfect setting.

Mostly, the evening went well. The lasagna and salad were, even if he had to say so himself, on par with the best Italian restaurants. The wine was excellent and plentiful. His one flub came at the end of the meal. Mark had completely forgotten about dessert, and there was nothing in the house. “I'm so sorry that I forgot about dessert. I was so busy putting everything together for the lasagna it completely slipped my mind. I don't even have any ice cream in the freezer.”

Sue, always gracious, replied, “I'm really glad you did. I've put on a few pounds in the last month so I can easily afford to skip a dessert once and a while. Anyway, nothing could have topped that lasagna. You sure know your way around a kitchen.”

While Mark wasn't buying the part about the extra pounds, he let her take him off the hook. They placed all the plates, silverware, pots and pans in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then they picked up their glasses and what remained of the second bottle of Chianti and set off for the comfort of the living room. The conversation quickly switched to the job they had on tap for the next morning.

“I'm really looking forward to working on our project tomorrow,” he said as he drained the wine from his glass and filled it up for the last time. “This job is not only going to be a good revenue producer, but the exposure is enormous. This client can throw a lot of background searches my way. I tried to get into their files again, by the way. I used one of our ‘Hide & Seek' tricks, but it didn't work. Thank God I've got you here to help me. I would have dreaded going back to my client and telling him I couldn't complete the assignment. I've never had to do that, and I sure don't want to start now. You're a real lifesaver, Sue.”