Infinite Exposure (33 page)

Finally, he turned to Hans and said, “Can you have your remote guru connect in and send an email to this same address from
the trainer's machine? We can get the ping utility to them that way I think.”

“I can ask, but I think he would have done it already if he could. He was never able to get all the way in to that machine.
He might be able to send it from the email service directly though.”

“Why didn't I think of that?”

“Can you do it?”

“Yes, but I will have to do a full penetration of the site which he has already done. He can get the email out today. No content,
just the ping utility.”

“He's really got you going with this hasn't he?”

“Somewhere they have an identity shop. I am assuming it is a good one and used regularly since our trainer requested a
new
kit. That means he was given one to come here. If they have a shop that good, it probably has to do with an intelligence
service in one of these hostile countries. Given the reluctance of the man in the suit to leave Pakistan, I'm assuming he
fears it is his own country. Your man is worried about that as well since he didn't want you to feed any of the tracking story
to him.”

“Just as well since it is a bust now.”

“Still. He sounds rather seasoned. I like the whole idea he came up with about getting help from the Americans. What I would
like even more is to know how he knew about that operation. I was unaware of it, but it is real nonetheless.”

“You verified?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't.”

“No. I'm leaving that up to you. You are the leader here. It's a damned good idea as long as we don't have to give up too
much about what we do.”

“I would have jumped on it already, but I worry about that last little bit.”

“Don't wait much longer. I know it sounds like limitless storage, but they do nearly a full turn over every three months.”

Hans looked at him.

“Yes, there is that much email on the Internet. The word search tends to pull in a lot of needless chatter and everyone is
sending naked pictures of themselves around the globe. Some poor schmucks actually have to sit and wade through all of that
stuff.”

Hans contemplated the absolute torture it would be to weed through millions of emails per day and a shiver went down his body
— it was visible, he couldn't control it.

“Nasty thought isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Suddenly one shower a week doesn't sounds so bad does it?”

“Not at all.”

“If what you are telling me is true, they probably don't have the messages we need in storage anymore.”

“I would believe that to be true.”

“What good is contacting them then?”

“No new communications trainee has shown up for our trainer. Our existing hub has a new roommate. I'll wager you a week in
a nice hotel with room service this new roommate will suddenly have a machine showing up on our ping server.”

“He has already received a computer and been getting lessons on how to install security on it. I give it three days, maybe
four, before he is learning the ropes of email forwarding.”

“Make you a deal. In three days we take them both. Take their computers, their notes, everything they have. Bundle them up
and send them to the interrogation camp. We can take them while the other is at work.”

“That sounds like a statement, not a deal.”

“The deal is, we don't go to the Americans this time with what we have. We simply give them all of the American email addresses
we have and tell them we know someone reading email from each account is an al-Qaeda member. We don't tell them how we know,
just that we have proof which cannot be revealed now. What they choose to do with this information is up to them.”

“You know they are going to ask for everything we have.”

“I have directories full of translated messages, original messages, etc. We could burn a CD for them and say this is all we
can give them right now.”

“The suit would shit a brick!”

“He'll never know.”

That stunned Hans. “You don't trust him anymore?”

“I think he is the good soldier who files all his reports with Pakistani intelligence. I think they have been leaking information
and holding us back. We both know the government itself has a lot of al-Qaeda backers in it.”

So far everything the Brit said was true and Hans knew it.

“Let me burn the CD, pass it on with what I've said, and tell my contact not to come looking for more, it is all we can risk
letting slip out. If you think our operation is covert, just think how bad it is for their operation. Illegally eavesdropping
on residents in a country full of unemployed lawyers and media moguls looking for a good tabloid story. 'Big Brother' sells
a lot of copy over there. The person who gave me the confirm took an amazing gamble. I need to give them something to work
with as payment in kind. If you don't want me to give them all the American email addresses, tell me how many and I'll limit
it. I definitely want to pass along the Golden Gate Bridge and Sears Tower stuff though.”

Now we are gettin
g to the bottom of it,
Hans thought.
He needs to buy back the favor. Still, what he was asking was the smart play. Get that information into the hands of Americans
today so they could start looking through it and begin monitoring of the email accounts w
hich were about to lose their hub.

“I take it your contact is here.”

“A few hours away by bus,” replied the Brit. “They are running surveillance on an off-shore consulting company they believe
is owned by al-Qaeda.”

That made Hans' eyes go wide.

“My reaction, too. The company has been sending workers into the U.S. under H1-B work Visas.”

“My God!” exclaimed Hans. “It's a major pipeline for suicide bombers.”

“It was only a matter of time before they came up with the idea,” responded the Brit.

“Why don't they just end the H1-B program?”

“Ah mate, you don't understand corporate greed and the politicians it controls.”

***

It had been a brutal week for Jeremy. He had put his townhome up for sale and moved most of his stuff into a storage unit.
Lenny was giving him as much time off work as he needed to get the thing on the market. His coworkers had been only too glad
to help cart his things out of his house and into the moving truck. They had even come along and helped put the boxes into
the storage locker. Painters had been in as well as carpet layers. Jeremy now slept in a sleeping bag in his bedroom and ate
only carry out. The open house this coming weekend would probably bring an offer.

All of this had been both stressful and exasperating. Nothing churned his stomach like Lenny handing him the envelope containing
all his documentation for a two-year work visa in the Ukraine. It was really final then. The IT worker had left the day before
to start getting the network set up and look into the building of a computer room. The following day Jennifer gave Jeremy
his plane ticket and arranged for the shipping of his clothes and other personal items to the new apartment. Yes, she had
given him the address of it and given him a phone number to call as soon as he touched down. Dimitri was sending some people
to help them through customs. Because Jeremy was coming there on a two-year visa he was going to need someone to help push
things through.

Jeremy's two coworkers offered to take him out for a final American lunch, but he passed. He needed to get some more stuff
done before he could leave. The two employees Lenny had at the off-site data center had both been offered jobs in the Ukraine.
The person with a family declined, but the younger kid fresh out of school jumped at the chance. Because he wouldn't have
a housing expense, just food and laundry, it was a major increase in income and a chance to spend a year in a foreign country.

Jennifer strolled by Jeremy's desk and said to him, “Don't look so sad, I will be there for two weeks with you. It's not like
you won't know anybody.”

“The first week will be sheer hell just trying to get around. The second week I will be trying to bring in analysts. By then
you will all be gone and I will be stuck there.”

“Do you want us to hire a receptionist open to 'other related duties' coming with the job?”

Jeremy laughed.

“Oh well, I will want to check out your apartment before I leave. Perhaps we can take care of that massage and meal before
I go?”

That got Jeremy's attention. He could tell by the tone of her voice it wasn't a tease. He looked her in the eye.

“I'm wed not dead,” she responded.

“You just made the trip a little brighter,” he said.

“Good, I'll pack some stockings then.”

“Won't hubby wonder why you are packing them?”

“You really are a boy, aren't you? My husband hasn't packed a suitcase or watched it being packed since we got married,” she
laughed.

He laughed, too. “I suppose you managed to get everyone staying at different hotels so they won't know you don't return to
your room a few nights.”

“If you must know, the others are staying at a hotel within walking distance of the new office and I'm staying at a hotel
about a mile from your apartment.”

“Nice bit of planning Jennifer, sure you don't want to work as an analyst?”

“No way,” she laughed. “I've been married over 18 years, I'm due a fling. Since you won't be coming back for at least a year,
other than to close on your townhome, a fling is what it will be.”

“At your service m'lady,” Jeremy said mockingly.

“Just remember that,” she said with a smile as she walked away.

The one thing Jeremy had left to do was to set up a trading account for Stacie. He put $5K of his own money in it. He had
lifted her Social Security and driver's license numbers from her while she was in the spa at Salish. He would have set up
the account then, but he forgot to bring his notebook with him. He opted to have them overnight the forms for signature to
Stacie's apartment.

Jeremy logged into his personal email account. He sent Stacie an email giving her his address in the Ukraine and the phone
number for the new office. Then he picked up the phone and called Stacie's cell phone.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“I wondered if you were going to call me before you left. Missing me already?”

“Yes.”

She laughed in response.

“I sent you an email with my contact information there, but that is not why I'm calling. I took the liberty of setting up
a trading account for you.”

“I don't make your kind of money to gamble with.”

“I put in $5K of my own. You will be getting an overnight delivery before 9 AM tomorrow. Go into work late so you can be there.
You just need to sign the forms and send them back to the on-line broker.”

Stacie was kind of floored. “So it is really your account in my name?” she asked.

“No, it is yours. There is no reason you shouldn't profit from this as well. Besides, if you come to stay with me it will
give you some of your own money to walk around with.”

Stacie didn't really know how to respond to that. From what she knew about the play, the account would nearly double in the
next couple of weeks. She knew that there were other plays going to happen after this one, and she had a general idea as to
the kind of money Jeremy now had. Finally, she said, “That is thoughtful of you. I guess you will have to see if they have
lingerie stores where you will be living.”

“Somehow I'm thinking they won't have anything to compare to what you showed up with at Salish,” he laughed. “Expect the package
tomorrow.”

“I will. You have a safe trip, and don't forget about New Year's.”

“Already on it. One last thing. If you have any influence with those who are helping target sales of the Pytho software package,
you should point them in the direction of Granite National Bank. They aren't a huge bank. Operate only in the U.S. They have
a large programming staff and are on an FDIC watch list right now. The savings they could get from the package and being able
to let go most of their IT staff would get them off the list.”

“I don't know how comfortable I am with that, but I will see what I can do.”

“Pytho needs to make a U.S. sale to get revenue flowing. Should be a good deal for all.”

“I'll drop a hint and see where it goes.”

“You really are more than a guy should ask for,” he said.

That line had Stacie blushing like a school girl. New Year's was starting to be too far off.

After hanging up Jeremy sent an email to one of his buddies from college. The guy was doing pretty well in some sales position
and wasn't seeing anyone steady. He had been a football player in college, but not good enough to turn pro.

Hey Buddy,

You probably won't believe this email, but it is true. I have been hooking up with Stacie from time to time. She has a pair
of roomies. They want to go out as a group on New Year's Eve to one of those all-inclusive, grand hotel celebrations. They
haven't picked the hotel yet. I'm attaching pictures of the two girls.

Since you are the first one I'm asking, you get your choice. All you have to do is make the reservation and wear a nice suit.
Both ladies are on the pill and promised to do their date. Long story, don't ask. Don't know if they will make you wear a
raincoat though.

If you are interested, email me back and I will forward your email address to Stacie so she can put your choice in touch with
you.

Jeremy

Next, he sent a similar message to another buddy from college who was running his own lawn-care and snow-removal business.
Ordinarily you wouldn't think that such a big thing, but he had some high-end homes and two golf courses in his client list.
He was making way more than Jeremy's salary now, but nowhere near what Jeremy was pulling in if you added in the stock trading.

Finally, he got back to focusing on Kyyiv. He had to hand it to the group getting the office together, they had the phones
turned on already and there was supposed to be furniture in the place. He had purchased a couple of 220-to-110 power converters
so he would be able to use his existing laptop until the IT guys could get him a local one set up. Those were packed in the
boxes Jennifer had shipped to the new apartment. He hoped that stuff actually arrived. If it didn't he was going to have only
the two outfits packed in his garment bag until he could find a clothing store.