Shadows and Light: The Complete Series, page 21
“How? Is there a key or code?” Jared asked, quietly.
Domino paused before he answered. “I don’t know. If she created the algorithm that blocked the botnet, someone else might have initiated the command. In that case, she wouldn’t necessarily have access to the password or user I.D. If she initiated it that could be trouble.”
“What do you mean by trouble?” Jason clenched his fist.
Domino faced Jason. “If it were me, the password would be an impenetrable sequence of numbers and characters and . . . ”
“And what?”
“I would never write something that valuable down or file it away in a secret folder on my system. I would keep it in my head.”
A guttural moan escaped Jason’s lips, but he kept quiet.
“You have to understand what a nasty piece of work QUALNTO is.” Domino twisted in his chair and faced his team. “Some of the best minds in the world worked around the clock to bring the bot down, not because of widespread financial loss, but because of what it’s capable of once it’s reactivated.”
“Like?” Mac asked from the other side of the table. Mac had been reviewing the blueprints of Noran when Jason entered the conference room. The layouts were left on the table ignored.
“Like anything whoever has control of it wants it to do,” Domino answered. “Use your imagination. The combined mass of computers that make up the botnet gives it a limitless power source to compute complex number sequences. In the wrong hands, there isn’t a computer system with Internet access that QUALNTO can’t control. Picture 9/11 all over again, but this time, there are no pilots hijacking the planes—only QUALNTO. I think we better find out where Dr. Tu was taken and fast.” Domino returned his attention to the screen of his laptop. “I did locate one chopper that could be—”
“Where?” Jason and Jared asked simultaneously.
“A chopper entered Maryland airspace at 5:32 A.M. and was cleared by ATC out of BWI for a photo mission of several sports complexes. The chopper wasn’t anywhere near Noran, but there is one spot it paused, which is a little strange.”
Domino brought up Google maps onto the large screen and pointed to the several red flags he mapped out.
“This spot in Crownsville is the closest to Noran. The chopper hovered over the area for about twenty seconds. That is about the time it takes to photograph the field or . . . ”
“Drop a zip line out of the chopper. A car could have parked on this access road here,” Jason said, pointing to the area on the map. “In minutes, they could be on I-97. Is there any way you can use traffic cameras to pick up vehicles entering I-97 at this exit?”
“I found a few possibilities, a minivan, couple SUVs, a BG&E vehicle, and a box truck. I can follow them, but it will take some time,” Domino said, glancing at Jason.
“Follow the truck.”
“Don’t bother,” Mac replied. He sat staring at the monitor in front of him. “A white box truck made a delivery at Noran at exactly six o’clock this morning. How often do you think a company receives deliveries that early on a Sunday?” he asked no one in particular.
Jason crossed the conference room and glanced over Mac’s shoulder. “Pull up that damn camera.” He pointed at the screen.
Everyone in the room watched the man who walked into the McNeils’ cabin hours before, exit the cab of a box truck parked in the delivery bay of Noran. They knew exactly where to find Sarah.
Jason’s pulse drummed between his ears. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to even his tone. “That son of a bitch stuffed Sarah into a damn server rack. Find me a way inside Noran.”
“I got you covered, bro, relax. You’re going in the same way that bastard got out after he detonated the letter bomb inside Sarah’s office,” Mac said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
An hour later, Jason drove up to the gatehouse of Noran and handed the guard his credentials. The guard glanced at the photo ID and then back at Jason. He made a quick call and handed Jason the certified explosive specialist ID.
“Mr. Nash, you can park in the visitor lot. Tom Reynolds, the chief security officer will meet you in the foyer.”
Jason took the badge, nodded to the guard, and drove through the gate. The first phase of the plan had worked like a charm. “I’m in, Jared. Breach the damn building if you haven’t heard from me in thirty.”
“Thirty minutes is too damn long. Domino has rechecked everything we have on the CSO, Reynolds. He’s squeaky clean. I don’t trust Norcross. How the guy could go through millions in such a short period of time sets off all kinds of bells in my head. Paul Arnold, Norcross’ partner . . . I can’t get a feel on him. “
Ignoring his brother’s concern, Jason parked. He glanced in the rearview mirror and pressed down the glued edges of his false beard along his hairline before he exited the sedan.
“I’m going in for Sarah. We can deal with the rest after she’s safe.” He mentally pushed down the fear that made its home inside his heart the moment he woke with a gun to his head. With his gaze on the several story, black glass building, he reached out to the only person who could help Sarah.
Hanna, keep her safe. I’m coming.
He strolled up to the entrance of the building like he had every right to be there. Once inside the foyer, he was met by another guard.
“Sir, Mr. Reynolds is on his way down.”
Jason looked past the guard to the bank of elevators. Reynolds just exited one of the elevators and headed his way.
“Good morning, we didn’t expect you today,” he said and held out his hand. I’m . . . ”
“Tom Reynolds, I know.” Jason removed an ATF forensic specialist badge from his pocket and gave it to Reynolds. He glanced briefly at it and handed it back to him.
“Mr. Nash, we can talk in my office,” Reynolds said and led Jason through security. Moments later, they entered a posh office on the ground floor. Jason took a moment to look around the elegantly decorated office. Rich, dark mahogany furniture dominated the space, while original artwork covered the walls.
“Pretty fancy gigs you have, Reynolds. You guys don’t operate on a government budget.”
Reynolds moved around to sit at his desk and offered Jason a seat in one of the two high back leather chairs. “It’s an office, a place to hang my hat. Noran strives to make their employees comfortable. But I have fond memories of my first desk, an Army issued metal piece of crap. It was part olive-green, part gray rust. Every time I opened the bottom drawer, the metal handle cut the palm of my hand and bashed my knee. But that was a man’s desk,” he said with a grin. “So how can I help you today, Mr. Nash?”
“Well, actually, I’m here to help you.” Jason peeled off a false beard. “You have a major breach in your security, Reynolds.”
The moment Jason removed the beard, Reynolds stood and reached for the phone. Jason grabbed his wrist in a vise grip, and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” With his other hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his FBI badge, tossing it onto the desk.
Reynolds studied the picture carefully. “You’re FBI, not the ATF forensic specialist investigating the letter bomb? Wait, McNeil . . . I know that name.”
“You met my brothers a couple days ago.” Jason released his hold on Reynolds’ wrist. “Sit down. We’ve some things to discuss.”
“Your damn FBI badge would have gotten you through the gate. Why go through all this?” He motioned to the false beard tossed on his desk.
“At six twelve, you signed for a delivery of a server rack.”
“That’s right. Why is the FBI interested in a server rack?”
“Because someone kidnapped Sarah Tu from her bed this morning, shoved her in that rack, and smuggled her in right under your nose. What I don’t know is if you are part of all this.”
“McNeil, what the hell are you talking about? Why would anyone have to smuggle Dr. Tu into the building? She practically lives here.”
It took Jason only five minutes to fill Reynolds in on what was going on inside Noran. The shock and anger in his expression gave Jason hope that he placed his trust in the right person. Reynolds was an ex-Marine; once a Marine, always a Marine.
Ten minutes later, a large blueprint covered the desk and Jason and Reynolds were head to head.
“I don’t know how he got into the building, but we think the guy dropped into Sarah’s lab through the roof here,” Jason pointed to an area behind a wall of racks. “The crawl space would be used to install the electrical equipment required to power the lab. He would have slipped into the storage closet off the hallway near the elevators and entered the lab from a hole in the wall.”
“Hell, McNeil, since the bomb went off in Dr. Tu’s office, I’ve examined every inch of this blueprint. How do you know a crawl space exists? It isn’t noted on either the original blueprint or the blueprint of Dr. Tu’s lab.”
“We have a tech guy. He is nerdy as hell and I don’t understand half what he says, but he knows his stuff. If Domino says there is a space here, then there’s a crawl space. I’m going to need you to black out the camera feed to give me a chance to make it into the storage closet. If we’re watching, his men are doing the same thing.”
“I would really like to clear this with Norcross or Arnold.”
Jason shook his head. “You can’t. The fact that I’m in the building can’t leave this office.”
“Noran is their company, McNeil. Henry and Paul are good men, and they care a great deal about Sarah. They would never do anything to put her in danger.”
“I don’t share you faith in your bosses, and I won’t chance Sarah’s life on blind faith.”
Tom Reynolds’s eyes lashed with anger. “I’ve worked with them for the last fifteen years. It’s not blind faith.”
Jason stood and glared down at Reynolds. “I have neither the time nor the patience to debate their credibility with you. We’re doing this my way.”
Reynolds stood and glared right back at Jason. “Or what, McNeil?”
“A fucking pissing match? Seriously? We don’t have time for this shit.” Jared shouted through Jason’s earpiece.
Ten minutes later, cooler heads prevailed and Jason entered the elevator.
• • •
Sarah rushed toward Henry. “Get out, Henry—call security, now.”
An overwhelming sense of dread made her knees weak. She shoved him toward the door, but his six-foot frame didn’t budge. Henry wrapped his arms around her and faced the men in her lab. She took in a deep breath and exhaled, the faint familiar scent of Old English Leather aftershave and pipe tobacco that always surrounded him soothed her racing pulse. His very presence calmed her.
“What’s the meaning of this, Ralph?” Henry glanced momentarily at the lab tech. Bob’s arms were bound with duct tape and his unconscious body lay slumped on the floor. “What the hell have you done? I told you I would deal with this.”
Sarah dropped her arms from around Henry as if the mere touch burned. She took two steps back. Her stomach clenched and her breaths came in short, shallow gasps.
“Henry—no, you can’t be . . . you’re not with . . . ”
“Can’t be what, my dear? Involved with little old me? Why of course he can. We’re old MIT buddies, aren’t we, Henry?”
Singer clamped a hard hand on Henry’s shoulder. The next instant, he grabbed Sarah by the back of her neck and shoved her into a desk chair in front of the computer terminal. He rammed the chair up to the edge of the desk. Henry stood like a statue, offering no assistance.
“Drastic times call for drastic measures, my friend. You can’t hold up your end of the deal. I’ve taken over.” He leaned down over Sarah, his lips only inches from her right ear as his fingers dug into her shoulders. “The clock’s ticking. No one here will come to your aid. I suggest you begin.” He didn’t back away but hovered over her.
Tears mired her vision. Henry maneuvered into her line of sight, but several moments passed before she acknowledged him.
“You bastard, I respected you, trusted you . . . loved you . . . ” Her words, barely above a whisper, clogged in her throat and she began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Oh Sarah, I’m here. Hold on to me!”
Hanna’s words came through loud and clear. For months, she longed to hear her sister’s voice. She had disappointed Hanna more times than she could count—all for the man standing in front of her. Jason and his entire family could be dead, too.
“Jason’s alive. He’s here. Believe, Sarah.”
She shut her eyes tight as the horror of the last few days slammed into her. Henry was responsible for the letter bombs, the cabin, and Andrew Curtis’s death. She placed her trust in a monster.
“You’re a murderer, a sick psychopath, a miscreant . . . ” She shot up from her seat; the chair tumbled back and hit the floor. “I’ll not remain in the same room with him.”
“No, Sarah. You can’t believe that.” The color in Henry’s face drained.
Singer righted the chair and pushed her back into it. “Yes, you will,” he said through clenched teeth and turned to Henry. “Go check on Bob. He’s been out for a long time.”
Singer returned his attention to Sarah. “My, how the mighty have fallen, but you have misjudged your friend, Dr. Tu. I must take credit where credit is due. There are causalities in war and sometimes, the innocent are the first to fall.” He paced in front of Sarah’s terminal. “You see, Sarah, my pal here, the upstanding Henry Norcross, used up all his own reserves, then pilfered the life out of Noran to save his wife from the horrid C word.” He pinned Sarah with a stare. “I bailed him out. You’re his payment. But unfortunately, his wife is going to die anyway. No wife, no Noran. Sad, isn’t it.”
Twisting in her chair, Sarah gaped at the humorless smirk that masked Singer’s face. Something deep inside her exploded. The fear, contempt, revulsion turned into a consuming anger. She jerked his hand off her shoulder and kicked out with her right foot, aiming for his crotch. She missed and belted him in the thigh. Singer lost his balance for a second. He came back at her and struck her with a hard hand across her face. She flew from the chair, her shoulder bashing against the edge of the console before she hit the floor. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out and swept the hair from her face. The sickening metallic taste of blood in her mouth fueled her anger radiating throughout her entire body.
“My God, man, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Henry tackled Singer, holding him back. The other men in the room held their position, doing nothing to help Sarah.
With absolute calm, she rose from the floor. Using the back of her hand, she wiped the blood that pooled in the corner of her right lower lip.
Singer shrugged off Henry and stood only two feet from her. “I hit back. I suggest you remember that.” He pulled up the chair and nodded for her to sit back down. “Have you forgotten, Dr. Tu? I hold all the cards. You either play by my rules or fold. Your choice.”
He keyed in a code on the computer. Seconds later, live footage of her family home in Princeton, New Jersey, streamed onto the screen. Her father, with her mother by his side, mingled with several noted Princeton University professors while relatives visited quietly in groups around the room. Her parents were holding their yearly Christmas party.
Her father moved slowly about the room, stopping to speak with each of his guests. He halted at the mantel and picked up a frame photo of Hanna and Sarah. He held it to his heart, turned, and his gaze seemed to bore into Sarah. His eyes glistened with tears, his torment evident in his stark features.
One of his colleagues approached her father and his customary blank expression returned. She had seen him do that hundreds of times in the past and it was exactly what she needed most at that moment.
As she focused her attention on her parents, she willed her facial features to turn to stone while her emotions drained into the abyss. The sensation of pain, hatred, and betrayal were replaced with an indiscernible nothingness. She shifted in her chair in front of the terminal and, within seconds, logged onto the system.
Singer leaned against the wall with a sneer on his face. Henry, his face almost as white as the shirt he wore, motioned to one of the guards.
“Get her some water and ice for her lip.” With his orders carried out, he approached Singer. “You lay one hand on her again; I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Singer reached into his suit and pulled out the 9mm. “Oh really? And how do you plan to carry out that threat, Norcross?” He jabbed the barrel into Henry’s ribcage. “With your fucking finger?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jason jabbed the button for the third floor and stepped back as the doors slid closed. When it lurched to a stop, he flattened his body against the control panel and waited for the doors to open.
He peered around the corner with his 9mm clutched in his hand at his side. The floor was empty of personnel and only auxiliary lights lit the space.
Reynolds, you better have those cameras down.
He stepped out as the door swished closed, turned left at the restrooms, and crept down the dark empty dead-end hallway. The only door off the corridor was the storeroom that backed up against Sarah’s lab.
At the closed door, Jason paused and rubbed the back of his neck where the tiny hairs prickled. Sucking in a breath, he eased it open.
“You’re like a fucking rusty penny.”
Jason froze and eyed the man who had knocked him out in the cabin. When he reached for his radio, Jason turned with his hands in the air.
“Wait. Don’t.”
The ding of the elevator sounded, catching the man’s attention for a split second. That was all Jason needed. He thrust his fist into the man’s solar plexus and he doubled over. Pure adrenaline and hatred pulsed through Jason’s veins. With the butt of his revolver, he slammed it down on the back of the man’s head, knocking him unconscious. Catching the lookout man under the arms, he dragged him into the storage room and cuffed him to the floor-to-ceiling industrial metal shelving.
