Blood Money (5 page)

CHAPTER 6

Susan Harrigan was born on December 21, 1972 in Marshall, Missouri. Her father was an engineer for a large aerospace company. Her mother worked as a secretary for the local school district. They died in a tragic automobile accident when she was eighteen years old. She won a full scholarship to the University of Missouri, where she first co-majored in math and science. During her second year she took several computer classes as electives and was so transfixed by the power and possibilities of computers that she switched her major to Computer Science. The University of Missouri had the perfect curriculum for her to continue in these studies through her under-graduate and graduate school years. During her senior year, Sue met a visiting Nobel co-prize winning software engineer, and she was introduced to the world of software science. She spent all her free time designing and testing codes and learning every new programming language that came along. Susan had a natural gift for software design, and for understanding the logic of the coding. She just couldn't get enough of the technical side of the science. She brought this enthusiasm with her to graduate school, where her provocative thesis made her one of the most sought after graduates at the University. During her last year alone, she received offers from five blue chip corporations that ranged from $85,000 to $110,000 annually. It was during that time that she came to the attention of the Defense Department, who was recruiting for a program they called “Hide & Seek.” Her interview with Army General Barton Smyth and Colonel Chris Carter took place over two days, and when it concluded she signed a contract to work for the Pentagon. Colonel Carter ended their discussion with the remark, “Susan, we would be honored if you would join us.” Initially the pay was only $70,000 a year, but the pay scale would grow considerably over the course of her career in government service. This was the Susan Harrigan most people knew during her D.C. days.

There was, however, a mystery side to Susan Harrigan, one that didn't surface until later on. When recruited by the Defense Department over ten years ago, it wasn't just to be a part of the Hide & Seek team at the Pentagon. The Defense Department had greater plans for this prodigy. She had, in fact, signed on as an “Intelligence Officer” with a long-term contract. While she was assigned to work under Colonel Carter, she secretly reported to Neil Parsons, the leader of a covert group answering directly to the President. During her tenure with “Hide & Seek,” she was involved with many projects that came directly from the White House. These included spying on drug cartels and tracing money flows from rogue countries like Libya. Her assignments were often tied to work that some of her other team members were working on, so nothing out of the ordinary was apparent to any of them. When the group was broken-up, the Bush administration, in an exceptional non-partisan move, decided to retain her services, and she was assigned to a new group in San Diego. Their goal was to uncover sub-rosa activities on the docks. She set herself up with another agent, Rodney Phillips, using the cover as partners doing consulting for software development. She and Phillips had a strictly business relationship. Sue was too busy exploring new ways to rack codes and infiltrating the computer systems of shipping companies and trade unions to have a normal social life.

Sue kept current with the latest advances in computing and communications equipment. The San Diego operation soon became one of the most technically up-to-date field offices in the country. The success of the office came to the attention of Dennis Peterson, recently appointed Special Agent in Charge of the Cleveland, Ohio field office of the FBI, and she was recruited to move east to join the FBI. Her new title was Special Agent/Intelligence and Analysis, a newly formed section at the bureau. Sue was to continue to operate undercover. This time, she set up a sham software consulting company in Hudson, Ohio called Cybernetic Solutions. Operating in that capacity, she was instructed when and how much to bid on special projects. Her most recent one for the Ohio State Police being an example. When it was necessary, Susan's bid was assured to be the lowest. The State Police project aided Washington in its War on Drugs.

*

Mark later found out that it was Sue who had given his name to Peter Thurston's Defense Department contact as part of a search that Dennis Peterson was conducting to find a backup for her. The assignment that he had taken on for Peter Thurston was also triggered by her. Mark knew nothing about either until the project was over, but since he had the opportunity to be with Susan again, it really didn't matter much how it came about.

CHAPTER 7

Mark returned home from his lunch with Susan around five o‘clock. The traffic was unusually heavy for Saturday afternoon. The high price of gas apparently had not curtailed pleasure driving. There seemed to be more cars than ever. Mark decided to take another pass at NRBA files. Something Sue said rang a bell. They must receive hundreds of transfusion requests and donation information every day. Not all of them would be in a standardized format. He set up an e-mail with a request for information on AB Negative Blood, using a faux e-mail address of a Science Laboratory, one that he used occasionally for drug investigations. He used that ruse a lot back at “Hide & Seek.” The body of the e-mail included an attachment that contained a virus that recorded the data path of the request through the receiver's system. This would include any passwords used along the way. Their use of the “REPLY” function would carry the data back to him. It isn't foolproof, since the receiver must open the attachment and must use the “REPLY” function for it to work. Nevertheless, it had a twenty-eight percent success rate for him over the years, and the cool part about it was that by using the faux e-mail address, there was no way it could be traced back to his computer. He had nothing to lose, so he hit “SEND” and settled back to await the reply.

Mark was not a computer geek by any stretch of the imagination. His strength was more in knowing where to find information. The computer was, of course, a valuable tool for him in his investigations, closely followed by the telephone. His most reliable computer was the one between his ears, and that got the first pass at all new cases. Sometimes he would just sit in his den and ponder a situation. He usually had a CD of the Stones, the Doors or other groups playing in the background as he scribbled down whatever came into his mind. The music acted as a catalyst for him. Mark heard it, but he didn't really listen. At first he maked no attempt to put anything into a sensible order, just trying to get a grasp of all of the facts available. Next he gathered up all his scribbling and drew charts and timelines. Lastly, he prepared a list of information he knew he would need to complete the picture, jotting down the probable source for each item on the list. That became an action list for him.

Most people think that to get the results he does, he must have a supercomputer. Far from it. Mark operated with just a Gateway laptop and a Canon printer. The key to his success was networking. Mark had access, through cyber hookups, to powerful computers that were at least a thousand times greater than his humble laptop. He knew from experience that it's not what you know but who you know that counts. He just needed to stroke a few keys and he'd be connected to data processors all over the world. Of course, it didn't hurt that he had been allowed to retain his security clearance from the Defense Department. The years he spent in D.C. opened the world to him, and he developed strong bonds with people that he could count on to keep their business dealings confidential. He continues to have mutual dealings with many of them since he left Washington.

His taste in music was quite varied. Basically, it was the rhythm and the sound that appealed to him. He was at home with Dixieland Jazz, the Beatles, the Stones and even some Hawaiian music. Today he chose
We Like to Party
by the Vengaboys. Just as the CD ended, he received an answer from the NRBA. Unfortunately, they did not use the “reply” function.

Now he was certain that he was going to need Sue and her “LEECH” program, as well as any other tricks she had up her sleeve. He erased the message and shut down his e-mail. In a way, he was actually relieved that it hadn't worked.

CHAPTER 8

As a Special Agent in Intelligence and Analysis, Susan Harrigan operated a data network that was the envy of many federal agencies. The FBI gave her carte blanche to act on their behalf. The assignments she was given were broad-brush so as not to limit her creatively. Many originated in the White House and from high-level people in the Defense Department. In public, she operated Cybernetic Solutions of Ohio, Inc. However, nestled behind the facade of her basic business office, which has several offices, a dozen cubicles and standard computer equipment, lies a high-tech computer center where the government's work is done. It was constructed prior to the business office. Entrance is through an unmarked door. Security was high. Motion detectors were installed in every corner of the room. Entry was only secured via a fingerprint scanner and a ten-digit code pad, both of which were hidden behind a fake panel in the door jamb. The pad had to be activated within ten seconds of the print scan. Two code misses in a row set off a silent alarm in the main data center. A message was also sent to Susan's cell phone. As added security, Sue changed the digital code whenever she exited the room. The door was reinforced with steel plates. The management staff at Cybernetic Solutions was aware of the “private office,” but they were not permitted access. The space that her center occupies is small, especially when considering the potential power harnessed within. The walls, floor and ceiling are shielded to prevent any accidental broadcasting of signals from keypads. Sue requested and received the latest Wharton descrambler, a Norton encryption machine and access to IBM's Blue Gene/L system supercomputer at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. All communications into and out of the center were coded by a new encryption system developed by the Quantum Institute at the Los Alamos National Laboratory. The new code was the first release of an experimental Quantum Cryptography. Leading scientists believe it to be unbreakable. Sue is only one of eighty-two people in the world to have access to this new code. The projects Sue works on for the FBI, and the technical equipment and software at her disposal are so secret that she alone is permitted to use the center.

However good she may be, a one-man shop is considered a big risk for the Cleveland office of the FBI. Recently on orders from the Director, her boss, Dennis Peterson, began a nationwide search for a backup agent. Although it was unknown to Mark, his name headed the list, which was another reason for his involvement.

CHAPTER 9

Dr. G. Mason Cartwright was about to have a bad day. Peter Thurston issued his order to his secretary, “Get Dr. Cartwright on the phone and set up a meeting in my office for two this afternoon.”

“Right away, sir.” Denise Barth was used to Thurston communicating without the amenities. She hit the number eight button on her console. The phone rang twice before Dr. Cartwright answered.

“Dr. Cartwright here!”

“Dr. Cartwright, Mister Thurston needs you at a meeting in his office at two this afternoon.”

“That's kind of short notice,” he replied in an obviously annoyed tone. He hesitated for a few moments and added, “Well, okay, I'll be there. Did he give you an idea what the meeting would be about?”

“No Doctor, he did not. We'll see you this afternoon at two, then.

*

Dr. G. Mason Cartwright was born Gerald Mason Cartwright, but when he was twenty-one he decided to drop the “Gerald” for what he considered a more dignified “G.” He had the dream of being famous someday, and he thought the “G” was more prestigious than “Gerald.” His father and mother were not pleased with this decision. After all, “Gerald” was his grandfather's name. As if to add justification to the change, he pointed out to his parents that his grandfather's claim-to-fame was that he retired from a position as a Postmaster at the local Post Office. But he, after all, was going to be a famous doctor. This argument was not well received, and the name change continued to be a bone-of-contention until both parents passed away. His father never missed an opportunity to refer to his son as “Mister Big Shot,” even in front of other people and at family gatherings, mockingly referring to him as “G.” That never bothered the Doctor much. He had every intention of being worthy of the name. Not so much to prove anything to his father, but to satisfy the deep yearning for success that he had from a very early age. The road so far had been successful, though rocky.

*

Dr. G. Mason Cartwright, MD., Ph.D., was the Director of Medical Services, a developmental program at Thurston Electronics. Cartwright earned his degrees at the University of Michigan and Duke University. His major and subsequent clinical interest was in Hematology (the science encompassing the generation, anatomy, physiology, pathology and therapeutics of blood). Five years ago he had been hired by the National Rare Blood Association to set up the protocols for testing and storing the supply of rare blood from the nation's blood banks. Four years later he became their National Director. Dr. Cartwright had been responsible for a three-fold increase in participating blood banks while National Director. During the time, however, he became aware of unusually large payments sent to certain foreign companies or groups that were handled exclusively by three members of the Board of Governors. His questions about the payments were met with stern rebukes from the Board Chairman, and a campaign of critical in-house memorandums began, aimed at harassing the Doctor. Finally he had his fill. One day, after a very restless night, he penned his resignation, which he left on his desk with his security badge and building keys. It seemed strange to him that he felt such a relief at giving up the very position that he had dreamed of all his life. The next day, he received a carton by express delivery containing the personal objects he had left behind in his haste to exit the building. It was evident that everything had been examined thoroughly. An important period in his life had ended, but an even better one had recently opened up at Thurston Electronics. His hopes were high once again.

* * *

The NRBA was on the Defense Department's list of suspected terrorist sympathizers. When they received word about Cartwright's departure, it was a golden opportunity to get inside information. The FBI invited the Doctor to Cleveland to determine what he knew. He welcomed the chance to discuss the concerns he had about the NRBA's overseas payments. The visit turned out to be fruitful. The Defense Department encouraged Peter Thurston to hire Dr. Cartwright. While the FBI investigation was in progress, Peter Thurston was asked by Washington to build an organization that would be ready to replace the management of the collection and distribution facilities of the NRBA once they were shut down. President Bush agreed to this arrangement to assure that any action against the Association would not interrupt the vital service it was providing. Dr. Cartwright was not privy to the all of the details of these plans. All he knew was that he had another chance, and he was going to maximize every opportunity it afforded. He quickly began building the infrastructure required by mirroring the structure he had so successfully built years earlier at the National Rare Blood Association.

A three-tiered storage facility was purchased and converted into offices and training facilities. No expense was being spared. Equipment they were training on was state-of-the-art, in many respects far more advanced than at the NRBA facilities. Technical and clerical staffs were either on board or scheduled to join the company in the next two weeks. Trial runs were completed and procedures were fine-tuned. Dr. G. Mason Cartwright was determined to make this opportunity the crown jewel of his career. After the debacle at the NRBA, he had a driving passion to make up for lost time.

* * *

Denise Barth knocked softly on Thurston's door and entered the room. “Dr. Cartwright is here for your two o'clock meeting, sir.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barth. Please show the Doctor in.”

Cartwright entered the office behind Mrs. Barth. He was six feet one inch tall and in excellent physical condition. He had a full head of jet black hair, slightly peppered with gray strands. He wore a blue custom suit made to fit his trim athletic frame. His powder blue shirt was offset by a bright red Hermes tie with a “boy on a dolphin” design. Cartwright's trousers were cuff-less and sharply creased down to his Prada, square-toed loafers. In short, the Doctor had flair.

“Have a seat,” Thurston said, as he gestured toward the overstuffed chair in front of his desk. “This won't take very long. Incidentally, wasn't your status report due earlier today?”

“Yes, sir. I had it ready then, but when your secretary set up this meeting, I decided that it would be okay if I just brought it along.” He reached out and handed it to Thurston.

Thurston dropped it on the desk. “I don't have time to read it now. Next time make sure it's on my desk by ten, whether we're having a meeting or not. Is that understood? History has often changed in just a few seconds, let alone hours. Timing is essential in business affairs.

“Of course, I'm sorry I misunderstood, sir.” His voice sounded remorseful, but his clenched jaw showed resentment.

Cartwright's body language wasn't lost on Thurston, and he softened his voice slightly. “Doctor, tell you what, why don't you just give me a recap of what's in the report?”

“Well to start with, we're on time with all facets of training. Our blood typing trials got off to a rocky start, but we've got a really good crew and they got the bugs out within two days. They've been operating at 100% since then. The new Olympus PK 7300 Automated Blood Bank System arrived last week. It's been set up, and preliminary processing has checked out. As for personnel, I expect the last of our new hires to be here within two weeks. They are currently working for other laboratories, so the break-in time will be minimal. All employees have signed a secrecy pledge promising not to discuss the nature of our work. Not one of them ever worked for the Association or knows anyone who does. We have been very selective in our hiring. These are very dedicated, I would even venture to say idealistic people. I feel most comfortable with the entire staff.”

“Nevertheless, make sure you monitor their activities very carefully. It's possible that the NRBA has gotten wind of what we're doing here. I wouldn't put it past them to plant someone in here as a spy. I know they'll find out somewhere down the line, but I prefer that we be ready to go before they do. And make sure that you have the legal department review every written agreement and contract. Nothing can be allowed to fall through the cracks. I need everything to be absolutely incontestable.”

“You can count on me, Mister Thurston. Everything will be airtight. We'll be ready when we're needed. I will stake my reputation on it.”

“Very well, then. If you need me for any reason, give Mrs. Barth a call. In the interim, keep up the good work. I believe your patience will soon be rewarded.” Thurston dismissed Cartwright by switching his attention to a pile of papers on his desk.

If Dr. Cartwright was surprised by the abrupt ending of the meeting, he shouldn't have been. It was the way Thurston had ended every meeting they had had together. It bothered him, though. He was not an equal, that much he knew, but as a professional with a Ph.D he was accustomed to a higher level of respect than he ever received from Peter Thurston. It was this part of corporate life that he neither understood nor appreciated.

“Thanks for your time, Mister Thurston,” he said meekly as he exited the office.