Operation Mockingbird (17 page)

Patrick didn’t say anything. Matt noticed that Patrick avoided looking in Matt’s direction. Patrick took a paper towel from the roll on the bar and mopped his brow, never looking in Matt’s direction.

“Some guy beat heat him to death,” Matt said. He noticed that Patrick seemed saddened but not terribly surprised. “I don’t know why someone would do that,” Matt continued.

“Truth be known, Matt, you don’t know about a lot of things,” Patrick intoned as he looked in the direction of the television.

“I know what happened to Stephen had something to do with what the two of you were working on,” Matt said, watching closely for Patrick’s reaction.

Patrick looked up and scanned Matt’s face intently. Matt returned the gaze steadily.

“Pisser, Matt,” he finally said. “This is not good. Not good at all.” He shook his head.

“Patrick, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“
Aye
.” He paused and looked over at Alex. He looked back at Matt as he jerked his thumb toward her. “You sure you want the lass involved in this?”

“She’s okay, Patrick,” Matt said nodding in Alex’s general direction. “You can trust her. Now, tell me. What the hell’s going on?”

Patrick didn’t respond.

“Patrick, when was the last time you spoke with Stephen?” Matt pressed.

Patrick sighed heavily and then finally spoke. “About a week ago.”

“What did you guys talk about?”

“He was working on some big story. He called me to talk about it and get some technical information.”

“What was the story about?”

“He was investigating a public relations firm.”

Matt and Alex exchanged a look as Patrick continued.

“This PR firm was using some sophisticated programming for information management, so he called for my help.”

“What kind of help?’

“He wanted me to check them out, see what they were doing and then explain it to him.”

“What did you find out?” Matt asked.

“What I found out scared the bloody hell out of me.” Patrick said looking around. “You see, Stephen believed that this firm was manipulating information on the Internet. He thought they were tracking articles, blogs, even emails. They were also blocking access to certain material.”

“What kind of material?”

“Material that was not consistent with the messaging this PR was putting out.”

“But how could they do that?” Matt asked. “How is that possible?”

“Well, lad, that took some figuring out, but it seems that someone has developed some state-of-the-art malware.”

“Malware?”

“Malware is short for malicious software. That’s a general term used to mean a variety of forms of hostile, intrusive or annoying software or program code. You know, lad, things like viruses and worms designed to get around your security, break into your system and then either gather information about you or disrupt your computer operation.”

“Got it. Go on.”

“So this computer program monitors activity over the Internet,” Patrick continued. “Everything. Websites. Message boards. Blogs and even emails. When certain key words or phrases are identified, alarms go off. Then, depending on what it finds, a course of action is taken. Say, for example, some offending material or website is identified, the program may simply monitor the activity or block access to the material or website. If that doesn’t work, the program sends in a “worm” to destroy the files or to
corrupt the file system. These worms are able to shut down the entire site.”

Matt must have looked skeptical.

“I didn’t believe it at first, Matt,” Patrick said looking at them with wide eyes. “But Stephen and I tested it. The program is brilliant. Fucking brilliant.”

“How did you guys figure this out?”

“To test Stephen’s theory, he created some articles with words, phrases or concepts that he figured would get picked up. I posted them on some obscure message boards. Then, I sat back and watched the program go. It was a bloody work of art the way it found the articles -- within minutes -- and deleted them. It was as if they never existed -- and that’s not easy to do on the Internet.”

Patrick sat up taller and his eyes shone brighter as he spoke. Alex and Matt both watched him intently.

“I developed a dummy website and we posted a bunch of the articles. I installed some very complex firewalls, some of my best stuff. It didn’t take long for the program to find the articles. But we’d figured on that. Then the program got through my firewalls and destroyed the articles. It eventually infected the website and shut it down.”

“But it sounds like you saw this happening. Wouldn’t someone else know that their computer was being tampered with?” Matt asked.

“No,” Patrick said shaking his head. “This program is completely transparent. It’s disguised in something innocuous or even desirable -- like a complementary antivirus scan or an appealing advertisement. We call that a Trojan horse. It’s fairly common.”

“But, certainly, the webmaster for the website would figure it out when the material disappeared or the site went down.”

Patrick shook his head. “To the average webmaster, it would appear as if there was a programming error or the file server was down. They would assume the website was infected with some random virus.”

Matt looked over at Alex. She appeared engrossed, no longer the skeptic she had been when he first mentioned talking to Patrick.

“She’s a beauty.” The admiration in Patrick’s voice was obvious. Matt and Alex both knew he wasn’t talking about Alex.

Alex then chimed in and spent several minutes asking Patrick details about the program. They could have been speaking a different language for all Matt knew. Matt sat back and contemplated what they had just learned, connecting the dots in his mind.

“Wait,” said Matt interrupting Patrick and Alex’s discussion. “How can you be so sure that the PR firm is behind this program?”

“That’s a good question,” Patrick conceded. “The only reason I know -- or speculate -- about who’s behind this is because there’s a wee small component of the program that I recognize.” Patrick paused. “It had a signature on it.”

“A signature?” Matt asked.

“That’s the online equivalent of the tagging that graffiti artists do. In the world of computer programming, a programmer includes his alias or affinity group in the software programming.”

“Okay, but how did that lead you to the PR firm?” Matt asked.

“It was my signature.”

“What!?” Alex and Matt said simultaneously.

“You created this thing?” Matt asked.

“Wait, hold on there.” Patrick said holding up his hand. “I didn’t create the entire program. I was involved in the development of one part, and I had no idea what the end product would do.”

“How is that possible?” Matt asked.

“This firm hired me and several other programmers to do some high-level work,” Patrick explained. “The company had all of us working on different parts of the project. That’s not so unusual, but what was unusual was the incredibly tight security. No one person in the group knew what the entire program, completely integrated, would do. We worked independently and we weren’t supposed to know who else was working on the project. I worked on a security piece of this software. It was pretty sophisticated and unique, and I can see my signature in those elements of this program. So that’s how I know which company is behind this.”

“Why didn’t you or Stephen go to the authorities with this?” Matt asked.

“And tell them what, Matt? A story about some rogue computer program?” Patrick shook his head. “Other than speculation, we can’t tie the bleedin’ program to the PR firm. I haven’t been able to get that close to the program, let alone inside it, since I did my initial work on it. Also, I signed a non-disclosure agreement. If I reveal anything
about my work for this company, I’ll lose the money I earned plus I’ll have to pay some very serious penalties. I can’t afford to do that.”

He then leaned in closer toward Matt and lowered his voice. Matt could barely hear him over the cheers from the crowd at Keg South.

“What’s more important, Matt, is I’m not willing to cross these people -- not after what happened to Stephen.” Patrick shook his head as he sat back. “Bloody hell! I have a family. I can’t end up the way Stephen did.”

Matt understood. He didn’t have a family and he still didn’t want to end up like Stephen.

“So, what was Stephen’s big plan?” Matt finally asked. “Last time I saw him, it sounded like he was working on one.”

“Well, sort of,” Patrick admitted reluctantly. “He figured he’d expose the whole thing in a big way. This would force them to stop what they’re doing.”

“And just how was he going to do this?”

“I spent a couple of weeks developing a program that would get into their system, through the firewalls I was responsible for developing. This was my own bit of malware,” Patrick said smiling proudly. “It would do a couple of things. First, a virus would shut down their program. It would practically paralyze their entire system. Once that was done, the program would access all of their contacts and release some content Stephen had written describing the program and those behind it in great detail.”

“That sounds great,” said Matt somewhat encouraged.

“Well, hold the applause, mate,” Patrick cautioned. “There were a couple of challenges. First, my virus would shut down their program only temporarily, just long enough to allow my program to release the articles Stephen had written. Once their program figured out what was going on and went on the offensive, it would destroy my virus and go back to work and search and destroy all the files we’d have released. However, we expected that it would take some time for it to do that, and by then it would be too late. The secret would be exposed. And, once that happened, Stephen figured they would be forced to shut down the system themselves.”

“Okay, so what were you guys waiting for?” Matt asked. “Why didn’t you just load the virus and shut down the system?”

“Well, that’s the other challenge. Because I had built some really great firewalls for this company, the program would have to be loaded from the server. The firewalls would block anything foreign coming from the outside.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem? Where’s the server?” Matt asked impatiently.

“The servers that store all of this company’s technology and data are located at the headquarters of this company’s parent company.”

“Okay,” Matt said slowly, still not understanding the challenge.

“Matt, the PR company is owned by Protegere.”

Matt groaned.

Protegere was one of the largest defense contractors in the world. They had developed the type of sophisticated
technology and weaponry that had enabled the United States military to be the finest and most advanced in the world. The defense contractor also had as one of its subsidiaries the most powerful private military company in the world. Its professionals were trained to guard diplomats all over the world. They also trained foreign militaries on how to fight wars and entire police forces on how to maintain the peace. Their state-of-the-art weaponry combined with highly skilled mercenaries was a deadly combination.

Using their government connections, Protegere was able to build a military compound in a remote location in the Florida Everglades over the objections of several environmental groups. There, the company operated a military training camp, where the company’s operatives trained members of the U.S. special forces. Several environmental groups also said the company tested military-grade weapons on the Everglades wetlands. There were occasional complaints from people living in Everglades City of strange noises and lights late at night coming from the general vicinity of the compound. But no one had been able to confirm that and the local authorities were not sympathetic.

“Jeez,” Matt said looking down and shaking his head. “What the hell was Stephen going to do? “How was he going to get in to load the program?”

“You know Stephen.” Patrick chuckled. “He had balls larger than anyone I know. He was going to break into the compound.”

“And you were going to help him?” asked Alex.

“Oh, no,” Patrick said shaking his head firmly. “I couldn’t help him, even if I wanted to. The security system there is the best. I could get him into the computer system but I couldn’t get him into the facility.”

“How was Stephen going to get into the facility?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know,” Patrick said as he finished off his beer. “He took the disk with the virus I created, the one I couldn’t even guarantee would work, and he said he’d ‘take care of it.’”

Informed now about what they were up against and without a game plan or even a leader, Matt was out of questions. Alex, too, was very quiet. She excused herself to go to the restroom while Matt paid the check. After counting out a generous tip for Dan, Matt turned toward the big Irishman. He sat there quietly now, neither watching the game nor drinking beer any more.

“Patrick, about that program you developed for Stephen,” Matt began. “Did you by any chance keep a copy for yourself?”

“Sure, it’s a compilation of some of my best work. I have the program at home.”

“Can I get a copy of your greatest hits?” Matt asked. “Unsigned, of course.”

“Aye. I could make you another copy of the disk,” he responded slowly as his eyes narrowed. “But, Matt, what are you going to do with it?”

“I have no idea, my friend. No freakin’ idea.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BEFORE MATT AND ALEX could work through their next steps, there was something Matt had to do, a place he needed to go. Unfortunately, it was not a place or event Matt went to easily. On the contrary, it was the most difficult thing Matt had ever done. He needed to attend a memorial service for his college friend Yvonne Alfonso, a woman his own age and whose life had been cut tragically short in a white-water rafting accident in North Carolina.

Yvonne was Cuban-American, born in the United States to parents of Cuban descent. In Miami, Cuban Americans represented more than a third of the local population. They were a strong force in the community, largely responsible for transforming Miami from a beach retirement town to a modern city with a distinct Caribbean flavor. Yvonne was a shining star in the growing Hispanic community. She was bright and articulate and, after only a couple of years of writing obituaries for another paper, had
earned a top spot at
The Sentinel.
There, she began a regular feature dealing with issues important to first- and second-generation Cuban Americans. Over the years, she had developed quite a loyal following of readers.