Cipher (7 page)

“Sure, go ahead. There’s another empty bedroom over there,
at the other end of the apartment.”

“Great. Be back in a few minutes.”

Jonathan checked his watch – it was barely 9pm and the
sky still hadn’t gone completely dark yet. That meant that it was 2pm in New
York. He was still adjusting to the math in his head. He picked up his cell
phone and dialed one of his only friends in New York.

“Blake?”

“Jon? Is that you? Where are you? What number is this?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m overseas and I’m calling you from an
international SIM. I’m in Istanbul right now.”

“Istanbul?” Blake asked. “What the heck are you doing over
there?”

“It’s a work thing. Look, I need to ask you something. I
need to ask you a favor. I know that I haven’t been the best friend lately,
what with all the drinking and all.”

“Jon, I don’t have any money to lend you. I really don’t…”

“It’s not that. I just… I need a favor from you.”

“What is it? You know I’ll help you with whatever I can.”

“Are you still good friends with that reporter at the Times…
what was his name again?”

“Ed Perkins?”

“Yeah, him. I haven’t seen him in ages and I don’t have his
number anymore. I need you to get in touch with him for me… I’ve got a story
that he’s going to want to hear.”
 

“Okay. I’ll have him call you on this number.”

“Great. Thanks, Blake,” said Jonathan.

“Anytime.”

The 245-foot superyacht came to dock
in Istanbul’s harbor. The massive vessel jettisoned itself, glistening on the
water as a stark reminder of the audacious wealth in the world. Boris Medviek
adjusted his disguised prosthetic nose and faux facial hair in the mirror. It
was a complete transformation. His thin and very pointy nose was replaced with
a rounded and obtuse version that changed the profile of his face. The dark
1960’s style thick lenses added to an already complete alteration of his look.

As the superyacht secured itself in the harbor, Boris
descended the ramp onto the docks in Istanbul. His many passports afforded him
the opportunity to travel the world in almost complete obscurity. Money could
buy that for you. After spending years creating multiple identities for
himself, he was armed with a treasure trove of personalities that he could
assume at any given moment. To add to the allure, the yacht’s registered owner
was a Bearer Shares Corporation located in Panama, of which the obscurity and
anonymity allowed him to travel virtually undetected around the world.

On shore, Boris climbed into the back of a black bulletproof
Mercedes outfitted with the latest technology. The car hurried through the busy
streets of Istanbul enroute to a busy shopping district. He launched a
smartphone app that housed a WiFi beacon. As the car traversed the streets,
Boris used the app to locate the strongest WiFi signal he could find. The
driver parked the car and Boris exited the vehicle with a black leather
briefcase. At the café, Boris found a discreet corner inside where he could
stay virtually unnoticed.

After getting setup, Boris ordered a coffee, plugged in the
black USB cipher drive, and went to work. His fingers glided across the
keyboard with the speed and efficiency of someone who knew exactly what he was
doing. He could see his reflection in the glare of the black UNIX screens as he
launched them to initiate his attack. First, he worked on ghosting his IP
address through several proxies that created a roaming dynamic IP address.
Anyone who wanted to even attempt to track
him,
would
have an enormous amount of difficulty doing so. The proxy servers allowed him
just enough anonymity to not have his signal pinpointed. But, he still took
precautions. He was careful
beyond belief
because he
knew what was at stake.

The first task – the easy one – was to located
Dr. Jennifer M. Cobalt and find out all the information he could on her. That
part would be easy; he knew that. The second part would be to allocate the
identities of field agents at the CIA, FBI, MI6, and NSA. He launched into a
tirade of typing, occasionally glancing up from under his glasses to survey his
surroundings. Boris watched himself in the reflection of the UNIX browser as he
entered the commands and responses were spit back out at him. He caught the
glance of an occasional onlooker, but he sensed that he was fine. He was
virtually untraceable. Again, he was a ghost. He watched the black USB CIPHER drive’s
LED lights humming, orange and green intermittent flashes as ciphers were sent
shooting across the depths of cyberspace. He smiled to himself as the commands
were read, and databases were accessed.

He quickly cracked into Istanbul’s healthcare system. He
searched through the database using more UNIX commands against the primitively
protected data on the other end. He knew that would be easy. The database was
built on Oracle architecture, and he knew it like the back of his hand. His
fingers continued flying across the keyboard as he listed records of the
various hospitals and searched through the streaming data for records. No
results. He couldn’t find a hospital or medical center where she had been
admitted. She had been smart. There
were
no check-ins
at any of the area hospitals under that name. Could she have used an assumed
name or an alias? No, he didn’t think that would have happened.

His next browser screen launched into the Turkish telecom
systems. He started with all the major telecoms and began hurling the ciphers across
the Web. Within minutes, he had cracked the antiquated security through a
brute-force attack. He used the doctor’s Turkish cellphone number and immediately
started searching the databases to find the right telecom that housed the phone
number. Once he found it, his hands continued to fly across the screen,
punching in more lines of code against the UNIX browsers until he had made his
way into the telecom’s GUI. Once in, he had a much easier time scrolling
through records in an easy-to-read format. He located all incoming and outgoing
data for the phone number including SMS messages, GPS information, and phone
calls. He saved the data, but used the GPS to pinpoint her exact location at
that moment in time.

Once he had the coordinates, he picked up the phone and
placed a call to Viktor.

“Da?” said the voice on the other end.

“It’s Boris.”

“Da. Yes, boss. I’m sorry, boss. I know that…”

Boris cut him off. “Get a pen. I need you to write down
these coordinates.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Boris read off the exact GPS coordinates to Viktor over the
phone and told him not to screw it up again. Once he was done with the phone
call, he opened a final browser screen when someone bumped into his table. It was
the server, who profusely apologized.

“Oh,
özür
dilerim
,”
she said, apologizing.

And as if speaking perfect Turkish, Boris replied, “
Bir
şey
değil
.”
It was
no big deal
, but it was a big
deal. She had interrupted his train of thought. She had broken his
concentration. He was flustered, but he tried not to show it. But to Boris, it
was an omen. It was a sign to stop what he was doing. He looked around
carefully through dark glasses to see if anyone was watching. He couldn’t be
too careful. He was about to compromise the utmost valuable information in the
world. He couldn’t stay there any longer. It was too risky for him. He decided
he would save it for another time. Something about the situation spooked him,
and he left just as silently as he had arrived.

*****

Dr. Jennifer Cobalt opened her eyes late the next the
morning. She had slept hard and heavy. The pain pills had taken a severe toll
on her. She tried to get her bearings and remember what had happened. Pain shot
through her shoulder as she tried to get up. She looked over at the bandaged
shoulder and remembered the gunshot. She panicked. She looked around the empty
bedroom and got herself up out of bed.

She staggered into the living room to find Mehmet and
Jonathan
there
playing backgammon. They were laughing
and having small talk when she walked into the room.

“Hello,” Jonathan said.

“Hi.”

He immediately got up from his seat and walked over to her.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling? The shoulder…”

“It stings,” she replied.

Mehmet got up too and walked over to give her a thorough
checkup. “You know it’s a good thing it’s Sunday today and I don’t have rounds.
You were able to get a good rest. How’s the mobility? It will probably sting
for a few weeks. Just keep your arm in this sling. Here, hang on, let me grab
it for you.” The doctor opened a closet, leafed through some supplies, and
pulled out a sling for her shoulder. “Here, slip this on. There, how does that
feel?”

“Okay. It still hurts, but I’ll be okay. I can’t thank you
enough, Mehmet. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It’s okay.”

They spoke in Turkish for a few minutes and Jonathan looked
lost. He stood there and smiled, trying to get a grasp on what they were
saying. Mehmet was certainly worried, that was for sure, but the specifics of
the conversation went over his head.

“Mehmet,” Jonathan said, once they were finished speaking.
“Thank you as well. Thank you so much for helping us. But we shouldn’t stay. We
should really get moving.” He looked at Jennifer with kind eyes. He had a look
of empathy. He still felt incredibly responsible for the situation.

But before they were able to finish their conversation,
there was a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Jonathan asked. His tone was
hushed, as if he the knock startled him. He was on edge. He quickly walked to
the door and stood to the side of it. He motioned
for Mehmet
to come to the door and look through the peep hole while Jonathan stood on the
side.

Jonathan mouthed the words “Who is it?” to Mehmet, as he
peered through the peephole.

“Delivery,” Mehmet said, but only by moving his mouth and
not saying a word. He shrugged his shoulders and started to unlock the door. As
soon as the door was slightly ajar, and before he got a chance to unchain the
link, it was kicked in. A man with a black ski mask on stormed in and shot
three bullets square into the doctor who fell with a thud on the floor. The
silenced gunshots echoed in Jonathan’s mind, and he thought he was dreaming. He
thought what he was looking at wasn’t actually happening. He did the first
thing he could think of – from behind the
door
he punched the man as hard as he could. His fist erupted into a crunch of bone
and skin, spattering blood across the apartment.

The gunmen fell to the floor and his gun fell a foot away
from his hand. He tried to shake it off and crawl to the gun but Jonathan
kicked him in the head, then in the stomach twice. On the second kick to the
stomach, the gunman grabbed Jonathan’s foot and twisted it, sending him
crashing to the floor. Jennifer stood against the wall, watching in shock as
the two men wrestled on the ground. Her friend, Mehmet, was dead, lying there
in a pool of his own blood. She didn’t feel like it was really happening. She
didn’t feel like any of it was real.

Jonathan and the gunmen wrestled around knocking down a
pillar holding up a vase as they struggled on the ground. Jennifer didn’t know
what to do, but in a sudden fit of rage and anger she grabbed the first thing
she could find – a silver pot on the dining room table – and
slammed it into the head of the gunmen, knocking him out cold. Jonathan tried
to get his bearings. He was looking at the gun but the wind was knocked out of
him. He struggled to get up, and held his stomach.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What do
we…
I mean… what if…” She was stumbling for her words. She wasn’t making any sense.
Jonathan almost had to slap her to knock some sense into her.

He stared into her pale blue eyes and said, “Run. We have to
run right now.” He grabbed Jennifer by her arm, and pulled her out of the
apartment. The gunman was still knocked out cold.

“Grab the gun!” she yelled.

“Run!” Jonathan yelled back as he shot back into the
apartment to take the gun. “No, not the elevator! The stairs! Run!”

They ran into the stairwell and glided down fifteen flights
of stairs. Her arm still in a sling, Jennifer quickly hobbled, trying not to
use the upper left side of her body, but it made for an awkward descent down
the stairs

“Are you okay?” he asked as they reached the garage level.

“My shoulder is killing me. Do you still have the keys?” she
asked. She was breathing heavily as they got to the car.

“Yes. Yes. They’re here!”

“Let’s go.
Before he gets down here!
Hurry up!” she yelled.

Jonathan fumbled with the keys. His nerves were frayed as he
was trying to get the car door open.

“I’m shaking. I can’t stop shaking…” he said.

“Drive!” she yelled. “Please… please… I don’t want to die!
Go! Please!”

Jonathan threw the car in gear and lurched out of the
parking garage once the automatic door opened. He revved the engine and floored
it down the steep embankment, screeching around the bend when they reached the
bottom.

“How the hell did they find us?” he asked.

“I have no idea.” She looked him in the eyes as he tried so
desperately to evade the scene. He could see the look of terror wash over her
face.

“They’re tracking us. Somehow, they’re tracking us. Quick.
Where’s your phone?”

“Here... It’s right here…” She whipped out the phone from
her purse and Jonathan grabbed it and took out the battery and the SIM card. He
tossed the SIM card out the window as the car sped through the partially
congested side streets.

“Yours too. You should get rid of yours too.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said back. His voice had changed
into a monotonous sounding tone, as if he were speaking autonomously. Without
looking, he did the same for his phone, and tossed the SIM card out the window.

“Now, how are we going to communicate with anyone?” she
asked.

“We need to get new SIM cards – clean SIM cards. I
suppose Turkey doesn’t really have pay-as-you-go phones do they?”

“They’re really not that up on technology just yet, but we
could get new SIM cards. But, they do require identification usually. I have
some friends in town however who may be willing to help us out.”

“No friends. We’re going to do this on our own. I have to
get to a phone and make some calls,” he barked.

“Okay, okay… no need to yell at me anymore. I think we’re in
the clear,” she said.

“In the clear? Are you kidding? We were just shot at TWICE
in two days. I really think we need to figure this out. We need to get you to
safety some how. Otherwise, we’re both toast.”