Palm Sunday (24 page)

“Quite a little group you have here.” She smiled pleasantly.

“Little? Ha! These urchins don’t stop their running around ‘til the last one is gone. I earn my pay, that’s for sure.”

“You certainly do. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” The aide turned to a pair of young boys chasing a little girl. “Hey! What did I tell you about that?”

The middle-aged woman turned and left with Bobby in tow, walking along the wall towards the far exit. No one stopped them, and soon they were outside. They passed through the main gate and turned onto the sidewalk, where a van waited half a block away. When they approached the door opened.

“Get in, Bobby.”

Bobby looked at the woman, then at the van. Her expression had changed in some indefinable way, and it made him hesitate. “What’s the secret word?”

“What?”

“The secret word. My father said not to get into a car with someone unless they say the secret word.”

It was a precaution that Stanley took to ensure that his child didn’t ride off with a stranger. Only Stanley and Bobby knew the word, and Stanley wouldn’t send a stranger to pick him up without telling them the word. Bobby had forgotten about that until just now. The woman’s expression had somehow reminded him.

“He didn’t tell me, Bobby. He must have forgotten.”

“He wouldn’t forget.” Bobby started to look around, suddenly getting fidgety.

The woman looked at someone in the van and nodded. The front driver side door opened and a man got out and walked around the front of the van.

“I know the secret word, Bobby.” He walked up to the boy, who shrank back.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s ‘get in the van’.”

The man took Bobby by the arm and forced him inside. Someone else grabbed him and pulled him into a seat, while the woman jumped in after him. The man ran back to the driver’s side and quickly hopped in, pulling away from the curb as the doors were slammed shut. He guided the vehicle into the road and sped away from the schoolyard.

As the van took a right turn at the end of the block, Stanley and Katherine pulled up in front of the school, but there wasn’t enough room for both cars. Katherine double-parked behind Stanley as he went inside to collect Bobby. When he saw no sign of his son he went up to the aide.

“Bobby Whipple? Yes, he was picked up about ten minutes ago. Your co-worker left with him.”

Stanley looked at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about? I didn’t authorize anyone to pick him up.”

“She was a nice lady, well-dressed, around fifty, I’d say. She was from your office–said you sent her to get Bobby.”

“I sent no one,” said Stanley. “And no one in my office matches that description.”

The aide looked horrified, and was about to yell for someone to call the police, when the phone rang. She answered it, nodded, and then looked at Stanley.

“It’s for you.” She handed the receiver to him and he placed it slowly to his ear.

“Yes?”

There was a moment of silence, then a single word. “Dad?”

“Bobby! Bobby is that you? Are you okay?”

A new voice came on the line, a woman’s voice. “Listen very carefully, Mr. Whipple. We have something important to you, and you have something important to us.”

Stanley was at a loss. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come now, Mr. Whipple, let’s not be coy. You do have a certain handheld device in your possession, do you not?”

Stanley was so overcome by the shock of his son’s kidnapping, that he almost forgot. “You mean the palmtop?”

“Yes. Do you have it with you?”

Stanley looked up and noticed the aide watching him. He turned and lowered his voice. “I have it.”

“Good. Then this can be very simple. We’ll exchange your son for the palmtop. But Mr. Whipple, it’s very important that you follow my instructions precisely. Do not involve any other agents, or agencies. That will result in your son’s death. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you know where the bus terminal is?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Two blocks east there’s a convenience store. Go there now and wait at the pay phone in the parking lot for a call.” There was a click and the line went dead.

Stanley turned back to the aide. “My mistake. One of the secretaries was supposed to pick him up next week. She got her dates crossed.”

The aide looked relieved. “Thank heavens for that. You had me in a panic for a minute there.”

Stanley nodded goodbye and went back to his car. When Katherine saw that he was alone she went to meet him.

“Hey. Where’s Bobby?” As he drew closer she immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“They took him, Katherine.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The agency. Someone came here and took him away. While I was in there they called me and told me to go to a pay phone and wait for a call.”

“Why would they kidnap Bobby?”

“To trade for the palmtop.”

Katherine put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. We have to call the police.”

“No! They said if I did that they would kill him. I just have to do what they say.”

“Okay, okay. We need to think for a minute. Where’s the pay phone?”

“Near the bus depot,” said Stanley. “In the parking lot of a nearby convenience store.”

“Do what they said. I’ll follow you over and act like I’m a customer in the store. After they call, go into the store and buy something. You can tell me then what they said.”

“What if they’re close by?”

“Then just go to the counter and ask for change. Otherwise go to the milk section.”

“Let’s hurry,” said Stanley, numbly. “I don’t want to miss that call.” 

George Pampas wasn’t one to fret about his career, but even he had to admit that there had been precious little to brag about lately. Now, though, things were starting to look up. “Mr. Mason,” he said. “I have updates on a couple fronts.”

“Let’s hear it,” replied Mason.

Pampas sat down on the couch in Mason’s office. “We picked up the kid, Bobby Whipple, without a hitch. Contact has been established with the father.”

“That would be Stanley Whipple.”

“Yes. We expect to make a second contact very soon.” Pampas looked at his watch. “Within minutes, as a matter of fact.”

“Good. Does he have the device?”

“He claims to. He thinks we’ll trade his son for it.”

“Be careful. We don’t know who he may be working for.”

“He’s been warned about involving others.” Pampas hesitated, but seemed to reassure himself. “It’s his kid. He knows better.”

“You said a couple fronts. What’s the other news?”

“It’s about the FBI raid on ScanDat.”

“What about it?”

“Whipple works there,” said Pampas.

“Stanley Whipple? At ScanDat? That’s where Norbert said the data stream was accessed from.”

Pampas nodded. “That’s right, which means that Whipple is in this thing up to his eyeballs.”

Mason wasn’t pleased. “Why didn’t we know about this earlier?”

“We wouldn’t have known at all if the FBI hadn’t raided ScanDat. We did our own digging then, and Whipple’s name popped up.”

Mason shook his head. “Something doesn’t add up, George. Why would Whipple use ScanDat as a platform for breaking into the data stream? Even the FBI tracked him down.”

“ScanDat may be a front. For all we know it may have been formed for the sole purpose of tracking us.”

“If that’s true, they were very sloppy. It also means they’ll have an operation in place to follow Whipple when he comes for the boy.”

“I don’t think so. Whipple may be an operative, but we have his son.”

“If it was your son what would you do?” asked Mason.

There was no hesitation. “I’d handle it myself. Involving another team would be too risky. Besides, I’d know that the boy would never be returned alive, anyway.”

“Do you think he believes we’ll trade his kid for the palmtop?”

“He has to believe,” said Pampas. “At least, he has to believe he can make something happen.”

“Make sure you get both Whipple and the palm unit.”

“As I said, the operation is already under way.” Pampas stood up.

“Good. We’ll use what we know about ScanDat to get him talking once he’s here. That, and the fact that we have his son.”

“I’d better go check in with my team.”

Mason motioned for him to go. He was pleased with the positive turn of events. 

Katherine was already in the store, waiting for Stanley to get his call at the pay phone and join her. The short aisles didn’t provide much opportunity for stalling, and she had already made three complete circuits of the store when the cashier called over to her.

“Can I help you find something?”

Katherine looked up, startled. “What? Oh, no thank you. I’m just looking for something that strikes my fancy. You know–munchies.” Katherine smiled.

“Yeah, I gotcha, girlfriend. Sometimes I get so hungry that I’m tempted to eat one of these tired old hotdogs.” The black teenage girl motioned with her head at the display of slowly rotating, grease-covered wieners.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. You know what they’re made of, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

Before Katherine could answer, the door to the store opened and Stanley walked in. Both the cashier and Katherine looked at him, and he stopped for a moment, frozen by the unexpected attention. Quickly, though, he gathered himself, and walked to the milk section. He couldn’t remember which area he was supposed to go to if the coast was clear, so he simply got Katherine’s attention and beckoned for her to join him.

“They called.”

“And…”

“They want me to meet them at an abandoned gas station outside of town. They said to be alone, and that they would have Bobby with them. I’m to bring the palmtop.”

Katherine was concerned. “Stanley, I’m afraid. These people kidnapped Bobby. Not to mention Slocum.”

“What choice do I have?”

“What if they take the palmtop and don’t give you Bobby?”

Stanley was thinking the same thing. “If that happens, I’ll have lost any hope of getting him back.”

“Then we need a decoy,” said Katherine.

“What do you mean?”

“A fake palmtop. To see what they intend to do. If they hold up their end, you can always tell them where the real one is. If not, you’ll still have your leverage.”

Stanley slowly nodded. “It might work. But where are we going to find a palmtop that works like Slocum’s?”

“It only has to look like it. You can tell them it stopped working this morning–the battery must have worn out. That should buy enough time to discover their intentions.”

“We’ll have to stop at an electronics store,” said Stanley.

“When’s your meeting?”

“One hour.”

“Then there’s time. Let’s move.” As they left the store together Katherine nodded to the cashier. “Stay away from those hot dogs, now.”

The cashier winked at her, and then they were gone. 

Agent Sharon’s people were thorough. Not a single workstation at ScanDat escaped scrutiny, and the Alpha was examined with a fine-toothed comb. The only problem they had was with the experimental interface. To do it justice they would have to confiscate the entire unit and dissect it in their lab, which Sharon was reluctant to do. His authority didn’t extend to removal of property without cause, but his people gave it a once over, and were impressed with the design and workmanship. Boyd was happy to show off what he knew about it, and followed Sharon around like a puppy, until finally he had to send him on a wild goose chase just to get him out of his hair.

Sharon was bothered by the fact that two employees had disappeared without any explanation. He wanted to talk to Stanley Whipple and Katherine Ritaglio, but they were nowhere to be found. Worse, any evidence of tampering with the Internet infrastructure either never existed, or had been expertly removed. Sharon was forced to leave with nothing, his only satisfaction an admonition to Klugman to not let it happen again, because the FBI was watching.

Klugman watched in bewilderment as the last agent departed. 

Norbert sat at his workstation as Mason pressed him about his progress on the program to take down the FBI data center.

“I’ll be running some tests this afternoon. I think you’ll like my approach.”

“Tell me about it,” said Mason.

Norbert brightened. Not too many people showed interest in his work. Not in the details, like Mason did. “Pretty simple,” said Norbert. “I have a dummy network set up that will act as a model of the target. An executable will be transported as a self-propagating subcomponent of the DLL used in version control. At the desktop level, of course.”

“Of course.” Mason waited for further clarification. None was forthcoming. “So what will that do?”

Norbert smiled. “The version DLL itself is inconsequential. I’m only using it as a cloaking device of sorts. I’ve created a replacement that looks and acts exactly like the original, so it should bypass any low level security checks.”

“You’re losing me.”

Norbert leaned forward, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “Okay. The DLLs–dynamic link libraries–are small, rapidly executing programs that help the computer perform all kinds of functions. Some are mundane, repetitive tasks, and most are fairly specialized.”

“So you’re creating a virus that looks like one of these DLLs?” said Mason.

“Sort of. The Bureau’s data center no doubt runs software to check for changes to DLLs–that’s one way of scanning for viruses. The challenge here is to create a new DLL, in this case the version DLL, that looks, acts and feels like the original, with some undetected enhancements. It’s basic component design.”

“Oh.”

“The version DLL, once introduced, will function normally. Any calls to its interface will be met with unhesitating compliance. Smooth. But then, without warning, at a predetermined time, the naughty side of the DLL will wake up and assert itself. It won’t be pretty.”

“What does it do?” asked Mason.

“It depends on the level of authority of the user who receives it. That part is kind of a crapshoot. Even here, at our agency, various users have differing levels of access.”