No Way to Die (9 page)

“Thus, the one-two,” I said.

Kenny nodded.

“Katherine said they got an offer for ten million for Starfire,” Toni said.

“That’s interesting,” Kenny said. “That’s a drop in the bucket compared to what the successor technology might be worth. In its own right, I think Starfire has a good deal of interim value—especially if whoever has it doesn’t let it known that it’s being used. It would be perfect cloak-and-dagger spy stuff. Governments and militaries could use it to listen in on the other side. Criminals could use it to sneak into banks, credit card accounts—basically anything they wanted. Like I said, though, if word got out, its value would go down because people would stop using cryptology keys that were vulnerable to it.”

This was mind-boggling stuff. It was quiet for a minute as people digested what Kenny had said.

Finally, Doc broke the silence. “So does this mean that the guy was murdered?”

“That’s a damn good question,” I said. “All the physical evidence says no, that he killed himself. But all the nonphysical stuff—his solid family life, strong financials, that sort of stuff; it all raises plenty of questions.”

“Not to mention this little bit of news,” Toni said.

“Indeed,” Richard said. “Perhaps we should be asking who’d want to murder Thomas Rasmussen? And why?”

“Aside from the spectrum of usual suspects—spouse, friends, family members, and business associates—it’s starting to look like there could be an unknown contingent of
really
nasty folks who might like to get their hands on Starfire for nefarious purposes,” I said.

“Or maybe even the next technology that Starfire ushers in when it renders the current stuff obsolete,” Kenny said.

“I agree,” Richard said. “I think it’s unlikely that the members of the family-and-friends suspect club would be capable of manipulating physical evidence in such a manner as to make a murder look like a routine suicide, but I have to say, it doesn’t seem that such activities would be beyond the capabilities of the members of the second group Danny just mentioned.”

“Do you know anyone—a doctor or maybe a retired medical examiner—whom we could consult with on this?” I asked Richard. “Someone who could give us some insight into the autopsy report?”

“I do,” he said. “Carolyn Valeria. Carolyn’s a retired pathologist. She headed up the FBI crime lab forensic medicine division. I’ll talk to her and see if I can get her to help.”

“Good,” I said.

It was silent around the table for a second as we considered the ramifications of our discussion.

“So, as investigators, we should start with the presumption that Rasmussen was murdered, and we’re trying to figure out how—aside from the obvious gunshot wound—and by whom. And we need to remember that the murderer could be very dangerous. It might not be a typical jealous spouse involved in a crime of passion.”

“That’s right,” Toni added. “The murderer or more likely murderers, plural, might be from a highly organized group that is after the Starfire Protocol. This would definitely make them more dangerous than your random street thugs. They could be very ruthless, dangerous, and highly capable.”

“Which means that if we start hunting them, they’ll likely get pissed,” I said. I needed to put this out in front of the group and gauge their reaction.

For thirty seconds or so, it was quiet.

Finally, Doc broke the ice. “Fuck ’em, boss. Whoever they are, they can’t be allowed to get away with this shit.”

I looked at Toni—she was smiling at me.

“Good answer,” I said. “Toni and I came to the same conclusion yesterday.”

“I’m in,” Kenny said. “I’m ready to whoop ass on some bad guys.”

Toni looked at Kenny and rolled her eyes. “Puh-leeze,” she said.

“Let’s take the case,” Richard said. “But let’s be very aware that if there really is a ‘bad guy’ like we’re hinting around at here, we’re going to have to be very careful with everything we do.”

I nodded. “Very careful,” I repeated.

* * * *

I called my dad at ten o’clock and let him know that we’d decided to take on the case.

“Good news,” he said. “Katherine can use your help.”

“Dad,” I said, “how much do you know about the Starfire Protocol?”

“Next to nothing,” he said. “Apparently, Thomas left one of the devices at home for safekeeping. Katherine gave it to me, along with a little key-type thing necessary to make it work. Looks just like a little plastic box to me.”

I was shocked. “She gave you a device and said it was the Starfire Protocol?” I asked.

“Yeah. Apparently, Thomas told her there were two copies of the device, and he wanted to keep one at home. He told her there was only one key and he always had it with him, except when he went running.”

“Do you know if she’s told anyone about this?”

“She told me Thomas told her not to.”

“Good. Do you have them there at your office?” I asked.

“Yeah. They’re sitting right here on my credenza.”

“Holy shit,” I said.

“What?”

“Dad, you have any idea what that device can do—what it represents?” I said. “And who might want to get their hands on it?”

He was quiet for a second, and then he said, “Well, Jesus, Danny. Now you’re making me all nervous.”

“Dad, it’s entirely possible that Thomas Rasmussen was murdered by someone trying to get their hands on that box and that key. How about if I swing by and take them off your hands,” I suggested.

“I think that would be a real good idea. Let me clear it with Katherine first, though,” he said. “I’ll call you back.”

Fifteen minutes later, he called and told me to come and get them.

* * * *

An hour after that, I was back in our office with the device. I grabbed Toni, and we walked into Kenny’s office. I set a small plastic box about the size of a cable modem on his desk and stepped back. “Kenny Hale, meet the Starfire Protocol,” I said.

Kenny looked at the box for a few seconds, and then at me, and then back at the box. “Fuck me!” he said, astonished. “It’s real?” He stared at the box for a second, and then he said, “Where’d you get this?”

“Apparently, there are two prototypes. Thomas Rasmussen kept one at home. He also kept the only key.” I handed Kenny what looked like a USB thumb drive.

“Son of a bitch,” Kenny said slowly, holding up the key and studying it carefully.

“I thought you said Starfire was a software algorithm,” Toni said. “What’s up with the box?”

He studied it for a second. “I never considered it, but I suppose it’s not surprising that Thomas would write the algorithm into a little program routine, then burn it onto a flash memory chip. You build the flash chip into a stand-alone box with a USB key. Makes it a lot easier to control copies that way. When you want to use it, you connect the box to a computer with an ordinary USB cable and plug the USB key in. That’s the only way it will work. The box by itself will do you no good, unless you had some way to figure out the code on the USB key. And there’d be no way to figure that out. But with the proper key, the device will show up just like a hard drive on your computer. The software program will be sitting there, ready to go.”

“And it absolutely won’t work without this USB key?” I asked.

“Looks to me like it won’t,” he said.

I considered this for a moment.

“This is seriously dangerous stuff,” Toni said. “Could be that someone’s already been killed because of it. We sure can’t let anyone know we have it.”

I thought about the pictures of Thomas Rasmussen, his head half blown off, in his car. I agreed completely. “You’re right. Go ahead and lock the device in the safe.” I gave the box to Toni. “I’ll stash the key separate from the box for safekeeping,” I said. “We all need to be very careful about this.”

I could see from the looks in their eyes that they agreed.

“Danny,” Toni said, before she went to the safe, “are you free for lunch?”

I smiled. “Certainly.” Perhaps Toni was warming up again after all. Maybe we could get our relationship back to normal. I missed having her as a best friend.

“Good,” she said. “While you were gone, I talked to John Ogden. He’d like to have lunch with us. He set us up at Chandler’s at 12:30.”

Ouch.
I’d just been sucker punched. I knew it, and she knew it. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of showing it bothered me.

“Great,” I said, smiling broadly. “I’m sure we can get some good information from him.” I turned and headed back to my office. I closed the door behind me. A lot was starting to happen, and I needed a little privacy.

* * * *

I had about a half hour before we needed to leave for Chandler’s. Despite the fact that Ogden was ACS’s company lawyer and, as such, he had information I needed, I still wasn’t looking forward to seeing him.I’d only met him a couple of times before, and I hadn’t seen him for more than four years, but I didn’t like him. I should explain.

In early 2007, Toni and I were both upperclassmen in the University of Washington’s Law, Societies and Justice program. We had a business fraud class together, and Ogden was a guest lecturer. He was a relatively new attorney at the time, hustling to get his name out in the public. He had to have been pleasantly surprised to see someone like Toni in his class, and I imagine he was soon smitten with her—not an unusual occurrence. He asked her out, and maybe because he was a young, good-looking, fast-track corporate lawyer, she said yes. That was certainly her right—she must have been twenty-one then. I barely knew her at the time.

But I’d certainly noticed her. I wasn’t blind, after all. My problem was, I was just a twenty-four-year-old, army-enlisted man. In that context, John Ogden, Esquire, was tough competition. Toni and I’d spoken from time to time in classes before, but that was pretty much it. While I was working on getting my courage up to ask her out, she started seeing Ogden, and that pretty much threw a cold, wet blanket over my thoughts. I gave up on even thinking about a romance with Toni.

I saw her with Ogden after classes or at a coffee shop near campus off and on for a period of six months or so before he disappeared for some reason in the summer of 2007, about the time Toni and I started a summer-session class together. I don’t know why they stopped seeing each other. I certainly never asked Toni, and she never volunteered. It was around this time—the start of our last couple of sessions as seniors—that I got to know Toni, and we eventually became friends. We had three more upper-level classes together. As the final quarter progressed, we hung out and studied together—even paired off in some of our assignments. Over time, we became comfortable enough to share our thoughts and ideas, if not our beds. We made each other laugh; we enjoyed each other’s company. I know for a fact that she wasn’t seeing Ogden then, and that was fine by me.

So why did it bother me now, four years later? Was I somehow jealous? I certainly had no right to be, given my fling with Jennifer Thomas. Toni was clearly entitled to see John Ogden, or anyone else she wanted to see. Still, something was sideways, and I was uncomfortable.

But I didn’t have time to worry about it—at least not now, anyway. Now, we needed to go shove a stick into a hornets’ nest on a little thing called the Starfire Protocol.

WHEN WE WALKED up to Chandler’s, John Ogden was outside waiting for us. He was a good-looking man, probably in his mid-thirties. He was tall—I’d say six three or so. His dark hair was swept severely back. He was dressed in a dark-gray suit—charcoal, I think it’s called. He wore a silver tie. He had a piercing gaze that softened up as he saw us. I mean, as he saw Toni. I don’t think the sight of me softened him up much.

“Toni!” he called out as Toni stepped forward and hugged him. They embraced warmly for a moment, and then he stepped back, still holding her upper arms. “Let me see you,” he said. “Boy, it’s been a long time.” He looked at her for a moment, smiling. “You’re more beautiful than I even remembered, if that’s possible.”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir,” Toni said, clearly pleased. She was smiling, too. “It’s been almost five years, you know.”

Ogden nodded his head. “Well, I must say the years have surely been good to you,” he said. He continued to look at her for a moment before releasing her arms and turning to me. My turn. “Danny Logan,” he said, offering to shake hands. His grip was firm. “Good to see you again. I remember you from when I used to lecture at U-Dub. How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad, John. How about yourself?”

“Like you say: ‘not too bad.’ The law practice is growing in fits and spurts—a little here, a little there. I get by.”

“Sounds like my business,” I said.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope that someday things will get back to normal,” he said.

“Let’s hope,” I agreed.

“Shall we head on inside?” He asked, indicating the way with his hand. “I’ve got us set up at one of the corner tables where we can have a little privacy.”

We followed him inside. I hate to admit it, but my first impressions of the guy were not negative.

* * * *