Edge of Tomorrow (87 page)

“OK,” he chuckled. “What I want to do now is
take a peek at the files of Palm Rental and see who rented that
chopper. You know about computer viruses being sent via email?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I’m going to send Palm Rental my
snatch-a-file email message. It’s a program attached to the email
message that—without causing damage like a virus—grabs the files I
want and transfers them to me here. Then the program
self-destructs, leaving no trace. Understand?” he smiled with a
wink.

“I think so. The concept, I mean. Not how to
do it. Doesn’t the file access leave a trail of some sort?”

“No, I use the FAT—File Allocation
Table—directly to find what I want. I don’t use their file system.
It‘s really a little more complex than that, but that‘s the
gist.”

“Duh
! I’m
sorry I asked!”

“OK, here goes. Let’s hope they are online.
If we have to wait too long, I’ll move onto something else.”

• • •

It was twenty minutes later when they knew
that the chopper had been rented by a John Jones, an obvious alias.
Cash was paid and the renter did not require a pilot—he would fly
it himself. All the appropriate credentials had been presented and
extra insurance paid for.

“Well,” mused Syd, “this doesn’t help too
much, except we know there are two of them, at least. The pilot and
the shooter. No credit card info.”

Soup replied, “This is only one data
point. One mosaic tile of a larger picture. We need to gather more.
This was obviously a professional assassin with a large source of
cash. Let’s focus on that for a moment. Tell me more about
this
Catena di Morte
and this
Tessitore guy.”

Syd gave Soup a thirty minute dissertation on
the things going on in Italy, Sicily, and Monterra. He listened
closely, making notes as she spoke. He did not comment or show any
emotion when she described some of the violence involved.

At one point, he interrupted, “It seems
as if you were the target of these
catenari
goons, not Hatch.”

“That’s true, but he did get deeply involved
after their attacks on me, as I described. Actually, this doesn’t
feel like any of those people are involved, but I guess I shouldn’t
dismiss them completely. Who else could it be? Someone in the
business world?” asked Syd.

“If it were a business thing, Marty would be
the logical target. He’s the one who informs people of corporate
decisions. Who else could it be? I don’t know. I do know Hatch has
had his thumb on Gramble at the CIA for years.”

Syd said, “Isn’t he the one who betrayed
Hatch and Kat?”

“Yes. There’s no love lost between Gramble
and Hatch. Personally, I think Gramble has outlived his usefulness,
but I’m only an analyst. I leave decisions like that to others. So,
let’s look in the CIA’s super secret files of known assassins.
They—and the FBI—track these guys pretty well. It’s a long shot,
but who knows? We need another data point.”

“How do you get at
that
file?” asked Syd.

Soup looked carefully at Syd’s face. Syd
noticed that he always looked her in the eye when studying her.
Most men spent a lot more time looking at her breasts instead.

“I would repeat my former warning, but I
think you would decline to leave, again,” he said.

“You’re right.”

“OK. Most all CIA files reside on Triple
Eye’s computer systems. These files are protected by various levels
of passwords, encryption methods, access levels, access audits, et
cetera. If it wasn’t for this high level of security, Triple Eye
would have never got off the ground. I even built in several levels
of fire walls, so the system is hacker proof. After several years
of no security breaches, they are completely happy and comfortable
with security here.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming next,” laughed
Syd.

Soup chuckled and went on,
“
But
—since Hatch and I
designed and programmed the operating system—we felt it necessary
to leave a way to debug and maintain the system without changing
the way the system behaved. In asynchronous, multiprocessor
systems, using debugging macros often changes the system behavior
enough so that the bug you are looking for may never occur
again.”

“Say what?” interjected Syd. “Talk English,
or Arab! Something I understand!”

“Hatch and I left a way to access files
without leaving a footprint.” He saw her eyebrows arch again. “That
means they won’t know that I accessed their files.”

“Oh! That’s good! We don’t want to end up in
Federal prison!”

“Now, let’s take a peek at assassin activity
around the world,” he said.

• • •

While Syd and Soup searched for data points,
Sara and Marty chatted in his spacious office. They made small
talk, getting acquainted. Sara told him a little about her work in
Florida and Arizona, without describing any actual missions. He
described a little bit about what he did. They were both interested
in something else, however.

Sara said, “Do you know how long Syd will
be?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter. Soup will call
Jensen when they are through and he will drive her to Hatch’s
plantation outside of town. That’s where you two will be staying,”
Marty replied, his eyes flicking to her breasts.

“Then, what about me? I assume you have to
get back to doing your thing,” said Sara, leading him coyly.

“Well, actually, as I said before, it is
Sunday, so you and I could go somewhere for a cool drink, unless
you want to wait around all afternoon for Syd.”

This was exactly the response Sara was
looking for, so she replied, “I’m supposed to be watching Syd’s
back, but I suppose she’s in good hands here. I’d love to go have a
cold one with you.” She smiled.

“I’ll call us a taxi. I want Jensen to stand
by for Syd.” He smiled back.

• • •

Marty took Sara to
McGillicuddy’s Pub
, a place designed like an old
Irish pub. The waitress had a southern accent, however, ruining the
atmosphere. Sara ordered vodka and tonic and Marty ordered Irish
coffee. Sara wondered how long it would take him to proposition
her. Not long, she hoped. She could hardly wait to see his bedroom
ceiling!

Instead, he remarked, “Syd is quite a woman!
You haven’t known her long, have you?”

She was disappointed that he was talking
about Syd instead of her, but she answered, “It seems longer than
it’s really been. She’s my best friend. She saved my life a few
weeks ago, you know. She’s a very talented lady.”

“On one of your unmentionable missions, I
assume.”

“Yes. Just so everyone knows, anyone who
fucks with her, fucks with me! Now, let’s change the subject. How
come you never married, Marty?”

“The job. I never knew where I would be, or
for how long, or when I would come home. Ungodly hours! Nothing to
share with a mate,” he replied. “How about you?”

“Same reason. It made no sense at all when I
was a Marine, and it’s not much better in LRD. I’m always on call.
I’ve never been a one-man woman anyway,” she laughed. “Some of the
tabloids I’ve seen your picture in represent you as being a great
womanizer. How right are they?”

He sipped his drink, then laughed. “I’m
not married, and I date a lot of women. Call it what you want. Can
I help it if I enjoy the company of beautiful women? Like now, for
instance. I’m in the presence of a
very
beautiful woman!”

“That sounds like a line to me, but thank
you! As much as I would like to get you to take me to an expensive
night of dining and dancing, I really don’t think it would be wise.
Syd will need me, whatever she decides with Mr. Super Nerd. So, in
the interest of saving valuable time, do you have any etchings you
want to show me?” said Sara, getting to the point.

This startled Marty. He had never met such a
blunt and forward woman before—at least, not one who was so
gorgeous.

“Are you saying what I think you are saying,
Sara?” he asked in a whisper.

“Sure. I want to show you my latest bullet
wound, but I have to take my blouse off to do that. We should do
that in private, don’t you think?” leered Sara with a wink.

“By all means! Let me get the check and call
a cab. My place is only a few minutes from here! I love looking at
battle scars!”

• • •

By 5:00 P.M., Soup had searched several
files, all requiring “spook” clearances, and had established that
two known assassins had entered the U. S. just before Hatch had
been shot. One was Boris Vlastok, a former KGB officer and
enforcer. The other was Giuseppe Silva, an international hit man
for the Mafia.

Syd said, “Either of those could fit the
profile we established. Or it could be someone not even in a file.
Shit! Are we getting anywhere, Soup?”

“These are just two more data points, Syd. We
have to keep gathering, then things will fall into place. For
example, here are two more facts: Silva’s file hasn’t been accessed
for six months. Vlastok’s was accessed three weeks ago.
Interesting, eh?”

“Can you tell who accessed it?” queried Syd,
becoming anxious.

“With a little more snooping. I know the
terminal ID and the user code. I’ll have to match those with the
master indices. It will take a few minutes,” replied Soup. “Whoever
it was, he’s CIA. That in itself is a data point!”

Soup’s Computer Lab, Langley, Virginia

Sunday, September 2, 2001

6:00 P.M.

By 6:00 P.M., Soup had established that the
assassin file for Boris Vlastok had been accessed by James Gramble
from the workstation in his private office. Furthermore, after an
illegal search of U.S. Customs files, Soup downloaded a list of all
people entering Miami from overseas in the last week. He did some
sorting, eliminating U.S. citizens returning home. His list was
still large, so he first looked for Vlastok by name. To his
surprise, his name was there! He entered the U.S. on Friday, August
31, at 2:00 P.M. He accessed the CIA files again and downloaded
Vlastok’s entire file.

“More data points, Syd,” he smiled as he
explained what he had.

“That’s great, Soup!” she exclaimed. “Now
what?”

“Well, his file says he was formerly a KGB
assassin, and now hires himself out to the highest bidder. I’m
surprised he used his own name when he entered the U.S. He must
have a dozen aliases. Some known ones are listed here in his file.
He’s 6 feet tall, 185 pounds, 51 years old. Hmm. He was active back
when Hatch was. Too bad we can’t ask Hatch about him,” said Soup.
“What I want to do now is see if we can find out where he is. Then
I want to massage the rest of the list and see if anything pops up.
Look, Syd, this is going to take hours. Why don’t you let Jensen
take you to Hatch’s plantation and get some food and rest. Maybe
I’ll have some more stuff in the morning.”

Syd felt drained, but she did not want Soup
to have to stay up all night alone doing work for her. She told him
so.

He answered, “I’m a night person, Syd, and I
have a lot to do. I work faster alone. Don’t worry about me. I love
this kind of stuff—I thrive on it! I haven’t had a good challenge
in months! So, I’m going to call Jensen. You go. Please!”

Syd shrugged. “OK. Thanks for this, Soup. You
should have a raise.”

“Don’t need one, Syd. I would do my job for
free. But don’t fret it. I’m the highest paid nerd in the world
already!” laughed Soup. “I just hope I can solve this puzzle for
you.”

• • •

Earlier in the afternoon, at 3:22 P.M., Marty
and Sara arrived at Marty’s house in the Virginia countryside. It
was a small green farmhouse in the middle of three acres of land.
It had three bedrooms and 2½ baths. Its greatest feature was a
large den with a huge rock fireplace, and it was decorated with
lots of leather-covered, comfortable furniture.

They never made it to the comfortable master
bedroom. Sara let him undress her in the den and take her on the
leather couch.

• • •

Jensen dropped Syd off at Hatch’s plantation
at 6:45 P.M. She was greeted by the caretakers, Mr. and Mrs.
Carter. They were a middle-aged black couple: Roosevelt was a thin
man aged 55, and his wife Abigail was 52. They had been the
caretakers for Hatch since he acquired the farm in 1990. Except for
the horse trainer, who had his own cabin not far from the stables,
the Carters were the only ones in residence at the moment.

After introductions, Jensen left in the limo.
Roosevelt Carter carried Syd’s bag to the master bedroom—the one
Hatch used when he was there. The place was a real farm house, and
could not compare to Klaus Haus in size or elegance, but it was
very well laid out and very cozy. Tears came to Syd’s eyes as she
looked around Hatch’s bedroom. Would she ever get to share it with
him?

She found Marty and Sara in the large country
kitchen. They were sitting on tall wooden stools at a large
breakfast bar sipping drinks and munching on Cajun sausages, which
they were dipping in hot mustard. Marty was laughing and chatting
with Sara like they were old friends.

My God!
thought Syd
. She’s screwed him
already! That’s what that silly look on her face means!

“Hi, Syd!” giggled Sara. “Pull up a stool.
How about a drink?”

“Love one! Do we have Stoli?” smiled Syd,
feeling tired to her core.

“Sure. Hey, Abby, how about a Stoli on the
rocks for Syd?” replied Sara.

“I can wait on myself. Just point me to the
bar.”

Abby said, “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.
It’s nice to have someone to do for, for a change.”