Romeo's Tell (A disappearance mystery turned international thriller) Page 7

  As they pulled up behind the disabled wagon, a young, slight Hispanic woman with a baby in her arms walked around to the back of the vehicle, squinting in the VW’s headlights.

  Chad slipped the Blue Wonder into neutral and applied the parking brake. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he said as he opened the driver side door. His penchant for languages was about to come in handy.

  Through the open driver’s door, the others in the van heard just a few pleading words from the distraught woman. “Mi hija está enferma y—”

  Her pleadings were cut off to them as Chad closed the door. Only Jill knew what the words meant, but they all had the sense that it wasn’t good.

  They watched through the windshield of the Blue Wonder as Chad had a brief conversation with the young mother followed by a quick check of the other kids in the car. He then went around to the front of the car. Within a few moments, he was back to the folks in the Blue Wonder.

  “Okay, guys, here’s the deal. The baby girl in the lady’s arms has a 105 degree fever, their front tire is flat as a pancake, and they don’t have a spare.”

  “Not our problem,” Blake said, a little too quickly.

  Chad looked directly at his irritated band mate. “Blake, I think we need to think this through.”

  “Can we give her our spare?” Jill asked.

  “Nice thought, but it won’t fit,” said Michael.

  “Quite right,” Chad said. “Unless one of you guys has a miracle up your sleeve, I think the only way we can help is to take them to the hospital ourselves.”

  Blake’s face quickened to red. “That’s twenty miles in the opposite direction!”

  Chad ignored him. “Think we can fit ‘em all in the Blue Wonder?”

  Jill started sliding over in her seat. “We’ll fit them. The kids can sit on our laps, right guys?”

  Blake wouldn’t hear of it. “Give me a fucking break! Are you guys really gonna tell me we have to chuck everything for this?”

  “Come on, Blake. A record deal is just a chance thing for us. This situation is a sure thing. These folks for sure need our help and we for sure can help them. There’s really no tough call here.”

  “It’s nice that it’s so fucking easy for you, Chad, but this shot means something to me.”

  Ultimately, Chad made the call. They were going to help and that was that.

  Chapter 22

  It was a very good—no, it was a great review, a fact that frustrated and angered Blake Mackenzie even further. If that was possible.

  Blake sat at the kitchen table in his first floor apartment. The morning newspaper was spread open to the weekend section, which featured a review of last night’s performance by the Alpine Light. Although Blake was alone, he read the review aloud:

  The Alpine Light performed at The Cave last night and were anything but light. The group got to the stage an hour and a half late, but for those who waited around to see them, it was well worth it. Lead singer Blake Mackenzie took the crowd on a thrill ride, showcasing vocal capabilities ranging from the rich, powerful lows of Jim Morrison to the hard hitting highs of Roy Orbison. Bass Guitarist Morgan Bassar provided a strong bottom end with lead guitarist Chad Swan and drummer Michael Murdoch performing adequately enough to hold it all together. The band opened with ‘Start Me Up’ and that’s exactly what they did—

  “Goddammit!” Blake cut the reading short. Then, as if others were there to hear, he continued ranting. “If we had been there on time, we’d have a record deal now. But because of that bitch Jill and the boy scout Chad following his dick instead of common sense, we have nothing. Not a fucking thing!”

  He threw the paper to the floor and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

  The Alpine Light was history. So was Blake’s friendship with Chad. What replaced it was a grudge he would never set aside.

  Chapter 23

  Five Months Later

  June, 1986

  The bland-looking but highly skilled late twenty-something slouched back in his swivel chair in the darkened office as if playing some zero-stress video game. It was 10:00 PM. No one was around at this hour, but he still liked having the lights off when he was doing . . . things that could get him sent to prison.

  He’d been working for the highest of the high-tech government agencies for five years now. He’d invested, paid his dues. Now it was time to begin cashing in. He hadn’t planned for things to progress quite so quickly, but every once in a great while, plans can actually go awry in a good way. Opportunity was about to fall into his lap.

  Having invested effort not only on the technical side, but also on the personal interaction side, he was trusted now in addition to being recognized both for his skills with computers in general and with computer security in particular. He had a singular skill when it came to manipulating people and he’d worked it, perfected it, used it in an “Eddie Haskell,” sycophantic way—always knowing how far to push his flattery and obsequious behavior; stopping just short of making those who were almost onto him sick.

  At the moment, he was testing the undocumented features he’d included in the secure communications tunnel he had designed and coded. With the backdoor he’d slipped into the perfectly complex code, he’d be able to use the technology for his own gain, all the while enjoying absolute certainty that his illicit activities could never be traced to him, or even detected at all.

  All he needed now was to find the right individual with whom to connect. But the stars had aligned—that individual was about to find him.

  As he checked the edges of the security filter he had himself developed, he noticed something incoming, someone knocking at the agency’s “door,” someone trying to break into the system. He skimmed the attacker’s address and fired off a message using the handle “Silenthost.” The message was not the type an intruder would normally expect.

  Silenthost: “Can I be of assistance?”

  The young man realized that in most cases, someone trying to hack a government system would be scared off by abrupt contact from the target agency. But a message from the target would typically come in the form of a stern warning, threatening jail time and heavy fines. And this intruder was well masked and likely overseas anyway. So maybe this one would not be scared off. The young man didn’t have to wait long for confirmation that his potential customer was still on the line.

  Intruder: “Who are you?”

  Silenthost: “Sorry, no names. Can I help you?”

  Intruder: “Looking for information.”

  Silenthost: “On what?”

  Intruder: “Right now, Fractal-Key.”

  The young man was slightly shocked upon seeing the code name for the highly secret project his team was close to completing. But shock was soon replaced by recognition of profound opportunity.

  Silenthost: “No one outside knows about FK. How do you?”

  Intruder: “I know things. But need more. Will pay . . . up to 1 million USD.”

  Now the smell of opportunity was pungent.

  Silenthost: “Are you able to repeat the steps you used to find me?”

  Intruder: “Of course.”

  Silenthost: “Return in 24 hours for free sample.”

  Intruder: “And if I like the sample?”

  Silenthost: “Then you deposit half in my numbered account, I deliver all FK, you pay balance.”

  Intruder: “Acceptable. I am called Othello. You?”

  Silenthost: “No names!”

  Intruder: “I need to call you something if I pay you such big money. May I suggest Montjoy.”

  Silenthost: “Fine. Whatever. 24 hours. Follow same procedure. Do not poke around other interrupts or you may be detected. Montjoy out.”

  Intruder: “Understood. Good Night, Montjoy.”

  As the virtual intruder departed, a physical intruder appeared. The knock on the door, however soft it may have been, nearly sent the young man through the ceiling, given the nature of the conversation he had just h
ad in cyberspace.

  He cleared his screen and spun around in his chair to face the visitor. Shit. It’s that new guy. Goddammit, what the hell is he doing here at this hour?

  He took two short seconds to put his mind in what he thought of as his shell mode. “Hey, it’s uh, Swan, right? Working late?” he asked, as if he cared.

  “Yeah, it’s Chad. Chad Swan.”

  “Right, right—Chad.”

  Chad felt the need to explain his visit. “I saw your light was out but then heard the keyboard clicking and—”

  “Yeah, just doing a little testing. I like to soften the lights after hours—easier on the eyes. What are you still doing here Chad?”

  “You know, just trying to catch up on the information overload.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it. Lighten up a little bit, Chad. Didn’t you just complete your undergrad work?”

  “Yeah, just graduated the end of last month.”

  “Well congratulations. And relax. You’ll be fine. And remember, it’ll always be there in the morning.”

  “True for you too, right?”

  “True enough. I should practice what I preach. Almost done for the night anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry if I interrupted you.”

  “No problem. See you tomorrow, Chad.”

  As the young Chad Swan walked off, Montjoy spun back around to his keyboard, slipping naturally into his real mode.

  Chapter 24

  Ten Months Later

  April, 1987

  “So, are we gonna do it?” the young, enthusiastic voice asked. “Come on, wake up.”

  Chad shook his head and squeezed the sleep out of his eyes to be greeted by an especially mischievous-looking John Quincy Adams. Standing behind the young Mr. Adams were his twin brother, John, and one Jane Paulson, Jill’s younger sister.

  Chad let out a sighing breath, and tried to clear his head. “Where’s Jill?”

  “Out by the lake,” came the reply from the minutes-older of the Adams twins.

  Chad sat up and looked out the window to see Jill standing on the dock, looking out over the morning mist of Fourth Lake. He and Jill had taken Jane and the Adams boys on a long-weekend trip to the Adirondack Mountains. They were staying in Lakeview Down, one of the fifteen or so housekeeping cottages at a delightful Adirondack vacation spot called The Kenmore. Nothing too fancy, but literally right on beautiful Fourth Lake, the largest of the lakes in the Fulton Chain of lakes in upstate New York.

  As Chad had learned was a commonplace occurrence, John Quincy had come up with a plan. “Well?” the young man pressed.

  “I don’t know. Someone would have to stay here, right?” Who’s that gonna be?”

  “I’ll stay,” Jane said, with obvious enthusiasm.

  “Thanks Jane, but I don’t want to leave you alone, and I’m sure Jill won’t want to either.”

  “I’ll stay with Jane,” John said, barely giving Chad a chance to finish his sentence.

  Chad shot a dubious look in John’s direction.

  Jane just smiled.

  John Quincy was elated. “Great. It’s settled then.”

  “Hold it, hold it, hold it. Just a minute. How long did you say this whole deal would take?”

  “You don’t really care how long it will take. You’re just chicken.”

  Chad looked at his young friend sternly.

  “Okay. Maybe a ten minute drive to the trailhead and about an hour for the hike. Once we’re up there, we can use the walkies to let John and Jane know when we’re ready.”

  The “up there” John Quincy referred to was the 2,350-foot summit of nearby Bald Mountain. He’d noticed the day before that it was possible to see the fire tower on Bald Mountain’s summit from the dock at the Kenmore, which meant that the inverse would be true as well, especially with a little help.

  “Okay, I guess it’s as good an idea as any,” Chad said to his audience of elated eleven year olds, who could barely contain their excitement. It seemed they all were very eager to play their part.

  About an hour later, Chad, Jill, and John Quincy started out on their little journey. Jill was a bit concerned about leaving Jane and John behind, but they were relentless in promising her they would stay out of trouble.

  “And we’ll have the walkie-talkies, so we can check with you in the unlikely event that anything comes up,” John had said. Jill wondered how long he had practiced that line.

  When the three arrived at the trailhead, Jill found herself wondering why John Quincy was dragging along his new telescope—the one Chad had gotten the boys for their last birthday.

  “Just wanna see what I can see from up there,” John Quincy said.

  The start of the well-traveled trail cut through dense woods at the base of the mountain. They found the trail mostly dry with just a few muddy spots. Once or twice along the way, they stopped for a quick photo-op and gulp of water, but mostly John Quincy just wanted to get to the top.

  The last length of the trail was over bedrock and followed the spine of a major ridge. Portions of the rocky surface of this ridge-top trail were really pretty pointy and the trio had to be careful to keep their balance. To John Quincy it seemed like walking on some huge animal’s back.

  There were a handful of tourists at the summit when the three arrived, but they were early enough to beat the heavier crowd that would come later. The panoramic view of the Fulton Chain of lakes, nestled in the green valleys below, was simply breathtaking against the majestic background of the hazy mountains off in the distance. The three hikers had been at the summit just long enough to take in their first glimpses of the scenic view when John Quincy began making his way up the fifty-foot fire tower.

  As Chad and Jill took in the surrounding beauty, his arm around her, John Quincy worked on setting up his telescope in the observation booth at the top of the tower. From below, it sounded like he was probably talking with John and Jane over the walkie-talkie while he worked.

  Just a few minutes later, John came down from the tower and joined Chad and Jill, his telescope still in the observation booth. He looked at Chad and nodded deliberately, giving him the high sign.

  A minute later, when Chad hadn’t said anything, John Quincy gave him an easy shoe-kick.

  “All right, all right,” Chad said.

  “What, honey?” Jill asked.

  “Nothing. Come on up the tower with me, okay.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not that great with heights.”

  John Quincy just had to interrupt. “Hello. In case you didn’t notice, you’re on top of a mountain.”

  Jill widened her eyes and glared down at the precocious lad with a retaliatory smile.

  “Come on,” Chad said. “I have something I want to show you.” He took her hand and they began walking to the tower stairs. To Jill’s puzzlement, John Quincy began providing John and Jane with updates on Chad and Jill’s progress over the walkie-talkie.

  When they got to the top, Chad was the first to look through the telescope. He smiled. “Jill, I’d like to see if you’re able to play your favorite game, but backwards—and also get your answer to a question.”

  Jill scrunched up her face. “Okay,” she said tentatively.

  “Just look through the scope.”

  Jill positioned herself behind the tripod-mounted optical marvel and looked through the eyepiece.

  From below, John Quincy prompted John and Jane. “Okay guys, you’re on.”

  Through the telescope, Jill could see young John and Jane smiling huge and waving happily. They were holding a poster board bearing a message written in tall, thick letters.

  At first the message looked like gibberish. “IJLL, I ELOV OUY. ILLW OUY AMRRY EM?”

  But then Jill remembered the alphabetical order spelling game—and applied it in reverse.

  She threw her head back with a smile and then noticed Chad was on one knee and was holding a ring.

  “Esy, esy, esy,” she said, beaming,
still playing the game.

  He slipped the ring on her finger; she reached for his hand and brought him to his feet. They kissed deeply and held their bodies together as the mountain breeze caressed them.

  Chapter 25

  One Month Later

  May, 1987

  Out of college for a year and engaged to Jill Paulson for barely a month, Chad Swan had just been awarded a big promotion at DARPA. He had taken the position at the DoD’s technology research agency because of its renowned world-class technical staff, flat organizational structure, and philosophy of accepting risk to allow rapid advances.

  He had served as senior architect for the past six months on a major military communications project. Today, he was holding his first team meeting as Program Manager, thus assuming a dual role.

  All of the members of the minimally sized team of five—characteristic of DARPA’s tendency toward lean team structure—had expressed respect for Chad’s passion and ingenuity. So today, Chad did not expect serious resistance to the new procedures he planned to introduce at the meeting. It was important to him that the team fully accept and embrace the procedural changes, most of which revolved around pair programming practices and an additional mandatory peer review of all system modifications, in addition to the peer review already required for all DARPA projects.

  The other four team members had been at DARPA longer than Chad had, and for some of them, that was an issue. Even though he was only a few years younger, Chad was often viewed as the “kid.”

  As was usually the case, Paul Lacey was the first of the team members to comment. Lacey was of average height with below average taste in clothes, or at least color combinations.