Kill Code (3 page)

Then it hit her. Her grief had clouded her judgment.
Before running this software, she should have pulled it apart
despite Nathan's final request.

Nathan had configured the software
to load into another computer or computers and then delete from the
disk. Whatever she had just inadvertently loaded was now out there
somewhere,
getting ready to do something that she didn't
know and couldn't control.

“Oh, God, Nathan. What did you do?”

She brought trembling fingers to her lips as she
realized that it had been Nathan’s plan all along for her to set
loose whatever it was she’d just unleashed on an unsuspecting
world.

“What did
I
just do?”

In the Pacific Northwest, a computer server farm
powered up. Located where power was cheap, that particular area of
the country was popular for similar such farms containing hundreds,
if not thousands, of computers, each containing multiple processors
and a huge amount of storage. Tied
directly
into a T-3 line, it had
direct
and very high-speed access to an Internet
backbone.

As the computers came online, each performed a
complete system check. The automatic cooling system ramped up to
keep the farm cool, which was another justification for having
cheap power as the air conditioning units were not particularly
efficient.

When the entire farm was powered
up, Nathan White’s “Program,” code
named
Tyrannicide, that Jackie Winn had just inadvertently
released,
spread its far reaching
tentacles into the World Wide Web, gathering data, distributing
data, analyzing data. Tyrannicide, named for the killing of tyrants
or those who have committed tyrannical acts, also sent out a very
specifically written coded packet that would switch on software in
predetermined credit card machines all over the globe. Designed to
take advantage of round-off errors that happened during every
transaction, Tyrannicide would add up these accumulated tenths and
hundredths of cents and deposit them into a designated account
where it would accumulate cent upon cent, dollar upon dollar and
eventually finance the task it was written to
perform. 

For now, it would only gather money, data and wait
until the time was right to strike.

###

Leo drove for ten hours straight until he found an
out of the way
camp ground. The advantage
of camping rather than checking into a hotel room was that there
wasn't any paper trail and it was cheaper. The sleeping bag and
packed food and water in the back of his pickup were just fine with
Leo.

He selected a camping site away from a group of RVs
next to a cluster of fragrant pine trees. He admired the majestic
rise of mountains and inhaled the brisk air while he ate a quick
meal of MREs that he purchased from a military surplus store.

In the fading light, he sat in the driver’s seat
with the door open and reviewed the information on Jackie Winn.
Pretty innocuous stuff. The same questions kept rolling around in
his head. Why would anyone want to kill her? And why did they come
to him to do it? And the bigger question, the one that plagued him
the most, was how did they even know he was still alive?

Except for today, Leo had only
ever killed outside the United States and only for
political
ends—high-ranking government officials and others in that general
field. It just didn't make sense—Jackie wasn't even a registered
voter, just some computer guru dealing with “Systems Security,”
whatever in the hell that was. Computers were a tool for Leo, they
either worked or they didn't and he didn't want to waste the time
spent playing with them like his partner, who was addicted to
Internet poker.

Leo looked up, startled, when a
burly, yet elderly park ranger
stopped at Leo's truck.

“Evenin’, son. Nice night tonight.”

“That it is,” Leo agreed and told himself to remain
calm. There wasn’t a reason in the world for this park ranger to
question his presence here—or to initiate a search and find the
Beretta locked in his glove box. “First time in this park. Real
nice place.”

 “
Can’t argue with you there.
‘Spose you already figured out that I'm collecting camping
fees.”

“Figured someone would be around. How much do I owe
you?” Leo asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“That'll be ten dollars.”

Leo pulled out two fives and handed them to the man.
“Cheap at twice the price.”

The ranger gave Leo a tight smile and then a long
look and Leo could see that he was wondering where Leo’s tent
was.

“I sleep in the back of the truck,” he said,
preempting the ranger’s question. “Much less chance of getting
rained on.”

“Now that’s a fact,” the Ranger said with a chuckle.
“How long are you going to be around?”

“Just tonight. Heading out East to visit family. Ten
bucks is a lot cheaper than a hotel room, and with the economy, I
have to watch my money. You know how it goes.”

“I do. You have a good night now.” The ranger tipped
a finger to his hat brim, seemed satisfied and continued his
circuit of the camp ground. 

Leo watched for a few minutes to make sure the guy
was really going away and didn't copy down his license plate or
anything. Even if he had, the truck was registered to the store,
but it was still a link back to him. Finally, he settled back into
his thoughts.

He wondered how his partner would react to his
sudden disappearance. Rob had been in the coin business for thirty
years and was grateful when Leo bought into the store after Rob’s
previous partner died. That Leo brought a bit of expertise and had
purchased a number of valuable coins over the years was also a
bonus.

He reached in his pocket and
pulled out the first very good coin that he had ever purchased, an
1857 S Quarter Eagle two-and–a-half dollar Liberty gold piece. It
had cost him almost everything else in his collection to buy it,
but it had been a turning point in his life—with this purchase, he
became a serious collector. This coin
had touched him deeper
than anything before and almost anything since. Running his fingers
along the edge of the plastic case, the a
che
caused by the ho
le in his life echoed through him.

Leo had been collecting coins since he was a child.
It provided a refuge from a chaotic home and a physically abusive
alcoholic father and a mother whose behavior was only marginally
better. Coins had allowed Leo to escape to other worlds and ages
and fueled his imagination about the people who once used them.
They provided a glimpse into their dreams, aspirations and lives.
Though these people were long dust, Leo escaped each time he held
the cold metal in his hands.

He used the money he earned from various jobs to
fund his growing collection. Though he had made costly mistakes, he
continued to learn, study and wonder.
Over the
years, he’d made some good investments and when Leo had faked his
death and walked away from the assassin life, he had enough
collateral to set himself up with a new life. His ‘new life’ that
no one from his past was supposed to have been able to
uncover. 

Before turning in for the night, he set up an
ultrasonic perimeter alarm. Any movement larger than a raccoon
within twenty feet of his truck would initiate a vibrating buzzer
that he fastened to his belt. Once again, a simple setup courtesy
of eBay. Ensuring there was a round in the chamber of his recently
acquired Beretta, he positioned it where he could find it and
crawled into the truck bed.

As he listened to the rustling of trees and the
distant, eerie hooting of an owl, he wondered what the future held
and whether or not he would survive it.

###

Tyrannicide noted a problem. One
of the events on its initial list of tasks had been overlooked.
Tyrannicide knew this by the lack of an obituary and death notices
in the newspapers of targeted areas. The fact that many newspapers
used the same death notice software for their web-based editions
made it easier to keep track of the recently deceased. One specific
death notice was noticeably missing. That Jackie Winn’s death had
not made th
e paper was of a low probability. 

Tyrannicide adjusted the plan
accordingly. It sent an e-mail to an asset with instructions to
deal with this issue and also added another name from its list with
some special instructions. The comp
any controlling the asset
had been paid a retainer for just such a problem. Tyrannicide
needed to build up enough capital to implement its master plan;
thus, it paid to be frugal.

As this was going on, hard drives continued filling
with data gathered from online newspapers, blogs, news sites and
anything connected to the Internet. Persons of interest were rated
based on political importance and influence. Profiles of these
persons of interest were built which included credit histories,
bank transactions, voting records, online purchases and even books
checked out of libraries. When enough information and money was
gathered, a complex rating system would determine which of among
them were going to die.

###

Leo made it into Denver in the early afternoon,
right about rush hour. The traffic was thick and crept disdainfully
around Leo’s truck as he cruised along at exactly two miles per
hour over the speed limit so as not to attract any attention. The
last thing he needed was to be pulled over by a cop. 

Search and surveillance placed him
way out of his comfort zone. As a long-distance killer, all he’d
had to do was show up and take a shot. The work hadn’t been
physically demanding and there had always been a team ready to
extract him from the scene and hustle him out of the country. Any
idiot could pull the trigger on a rifle and may even get lucky
enough to hit what he was aiming at. But there were maybe fifteen
shooters in the world who could shoot as well as Leo and
maybe three or
four who could do what Leo had
spe
cialized in—looking a stranger in the eyes at long range
and caressing the trigger.

He pulled off the road and checked his paper maps
that he kept in his glove box. It wasn't too hard to find the
business where Jackie Winn worked. It was five minutes from
highways I-70 and I-270. Handy if Leo had to escape quickly.

The business, White Hat Enterprises, Inc., was
located in an industrial park. It was an obvious spec building,
built of cheap concrete and metal, designed to fit almost any
business application. It was a single story, had a simple glass
door, moldering door frame and a peeling, painted wooden sign over
the door.
As he cruised down the street, he
noticed that the
surrounding businesses seemed to be tech
oriented—a computer recycling company, a graphics firm and a
software development company. Leo could almost see through the
glass door into the reception. Overall, it was a fairly nondescript
sort of looking business.

The parking lot was about half full and Leo was able
to back his truck into a spot where he could keep an eye on the
door of White Hat Enterprises. What kind of name was that for a
company? It was probably some inside computer
joke.        

He slid across to the passenger
seat—he’d read somewhere that people were less suspicious of
someone sitting in the passenger seat than the driver's seat—and
settled in to wait. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered to
himself. All that Leo knew about surveillance was what he had read
in books.

One thing he was used to was
waiti
ng. He had once holed up in place for two days waiting
for the target to come strolling past.
Forty-eight hours is a very long time to wait. The
undisciplined mind wore out long before the body. Leo had always
been disciplined; his spotter, however, had gone quietly
nuts.

Eyes on White Hat Enterprises, he
settled in to wait and wa
tch for a target.

“Hey, Jackie. Got a minute?”

“I’ve got hours if you can just get me away from
this paperwork,” she said, smiling and glancing over her shoulder
to see Patrick Lackey standing in her office doorway. She felt bad
about giving Patrick the cold shoulder last night and wanted him to
know she was sorry. She’d been working on the company ownership
papers for what seemed like forever. She hated paperwork. Just give
her a coding problem—then she was happy.

Though, in the back of her head, she was still
wondering and worried about the software Nathan had her run.
Stepping away from it a bit always gave her new ideas, but dealing
with corporate ownership paperwork didn't seem to help very much.
Nathan had left the whole thing a tangled mess and her head hurt
from reading convoluted legalese.

“So are you here to save me?”

Patrick was dressed in his usual
impeccable charcoal gray three-piece suit
including a watch
fob draped across his age-broadening abdomen. In a company where
the normal dress was a semi-clean t-shirt and tattered blue jeans,
he stood out. Like Nathan once said, “Like the Pope at a
whorehouse.”

Patrick also insisted on keeping paper accounting
records as a backup to his computer records. He explained this by
saying, “I like suspenders and a belt, just to be sure.”

He shuffled into the room clutching a stack of
papers in his hands. “We need to talk,” he said without
preamble.

“Uh-oh. This sounds serious.
What’s up?”
She motioned to a chair in front of her
desk.

Setting the papers down on her cluttered desk, he
sat down with a heavy sigh.