Palm Sunday (36 page)

“Yeah, well. I guess you guys are going to find out anyway. The screw-up on the demo was my fault.”

“How could that be?” said Katherine. “We used that data–I don’t know how many times–without any problems.”

“I know,” said Boyd. “But just before the demo I pulled the input criteria one last time and made a minor adjustment. Apparently when I reset it there was an extra byte of blank space at the end of one of the strings. It wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Stanley shook his head. “But you couldn’t have known that. Any one of us might have missed it.”

“That’s just it,” said Boyd. “I did know, and I didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t be so bad, but those geeks with their laptops found out and told Klugman. Or rather, that Johnstone lady did. Anyway, I’m going to have to walk on eggshells around here for a while.”

Katherine put her arm around him. “Boyd, you didn’t make a mistake. We did.”

“No, man, it was my…”

“We’re a team, Boyd,” said Katherine. “If the team wins, we all win. If the team loses, oh well.”

Boyd looked at each of them in turn. “Thanks, guys. You’re all right.” He returned to his cubicle, leaving them alone.

“That was nice, Katherine,” said Stanley.

“Yeah, and think how much he won’t be looking over our shoulders now.”

“That’s a bit cynical.”

“Oh, I meant what I said about the team,” said Katherine. “I’m just saying that with Boyd’s good will, we should have more freedom to do what we have to.”

“If I know Boyd, that benevolence will dissipate pretty quickly. He won’t be watching things too closely today, though. No one will.”

Katherine agreed. “This is probably the only chance we’re going to get to prep the Alpha without anyone noticing.”

“Then let’s get to it.” 

It wasn’t that Agent Sharon didn’t like his supervisor–Roberts–it was that he didn’t trust him. Sharon had good instincts when it came to people, and he’d had a bad feeling about the man from the start. Nevertheless, he had given him the benefit of the doubt, played by most of his rules, and been paid back with nothing but grief. With more on the line now than ever before, his defenses immediately went up when Roberts summoned him to his office.

“Agent Sharon, please have a seat.” Roberts established his authority by starting the conversation with an order.

Sharon sat down. “You wanted to see me?”

Roberts nodded solemnly. “Some disturbing information has come out of the investigation into the deaths of the Philadelphia agents.”

“The deaths were disturbing. I knew one of the men personally.”

“Yes…in fact, your name has come up in connection with the investigation. It seems that the Philly office logged a call from our branch shortly before the men were shot. That call was placed from your office.”

Sharon crossed his leg. “As I said, I knew John. We worked together on a racketeering case in New York a couple years back. We kept in touch from time to time.”

Roberts smiled. “And it just so happens that you reached out and touched him hours before his death?”

“It’s a small comfort,” said Sharon. “But at least I did get to talk with him.”

Roberts leaned back. “Did you know it was an anonymous tip that led to the discovery of the dead agents?”

“I heard.”

Roberts tapped on his desk. “Something stinks here, Sharon, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”

Roberts waved him out without another word, so Sharon rose and left the room. He had come close to lying, but felt that his answers had been close enough to the truth. As he went to check on Justin’s progress, he realized he was going to have to walk a narrow tightrope if he were to survive long enough to get to the bottom of this mess. 

Charles Mason sat in his leather chair, remote in his left hand, watching the video of Norbert explaining the programs that were used to shut down the travel industry and the FBI. He replayed certain parts again and again, occasionally looking at a set of notes he had taken, and at his computer screen.

“Norbert, Norbert, Norbert…what have you done.” He spoke softly, under his breath, as he rewound the tape and played it back.

“Norbert…pascua florida. Ah, well, it had to happen eventually.” He leaned back and hummed a tune he remembered from his youth, from a time when things had been so much simpler. He longed to go back to those times. To the time before the…No! He refused to think about it. “Norbert, Pascua. Pascua, Norbert. Soon, my friend…soon.”

Robert Slocum was finally in his element. From a rain-soaked back alley he watched as a team of three workers finished unloading a white panel truck, transferring its cargo of stolen goods into a ground floor warehouse. It was two o’clock in the morning, on a Wednesday, so few souls were stirring besides those with ill intentions. Slocum was no exception. He waited an additional ten minutes before crossing the street, and cautiously made his way towards the truck.

He came to a window with dirty glass panes that offered a view of the inside of the warehouse. He had to stand on a rickety piece of spouting to reach that high, but he took the chance. Inside he could just make out the three figures sitting around a pile of boxes. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, and didn’t care. He stepped down from his perch and quickly surveyed the nearby ground. He soon found what he was looking for–a short piece of iron rod. He picked it up and quietly placed the latch on the outside of the door over the ring that served as a locking mechanism. He jammed the piece of metal through the ring, locking the men inside. They heard nothing.

Slocum went to the truck. The keys, as he suspected, dangled from the ignition. He smiled at the irony; the thieves were a trusting lot. When he started the truck and pulled out of the alley, the men inside the warehouse looked towards the door. Slocum laughed to himself as he headed back to his apartment. If you’re going to steal a truck, steal it from a thief. They’re much less likely to report it. 

Kayoko watched from the kitchen as the truck pulled up outside the apartment. “That must be him,” she said.

Slocum came in the side door.

“Any problems?” asked Kayoko.

Slocum shook his head. “No. I knew where to look, and these guys won’t be calling the cops.” He looked at Stanley and Katherine, sitting in the living room. “How are you doing?”

“A little nervous,” said Katherine. “But we’re hanging in there.”

“You have the addresses of your co-workers?” asked Slocum.

Katherine held up a slip of paper. “Mr. Klugman drives an Audi. I think he keeps it in his garage. Boyd’s car is a Ford Taurus, and that’s probably parked outside his apartment. The plate numbers were on record with personnel, so I assume they’re still valid.”

“Good work,” said Slocum. “Are you sure no one else will be at ScanDat at seven a.m.?”

“The security guard will be there,” said Katherine. “But he’ll mainly be concerned with people whose faces he doesn’t know. We have the bogus work order that we printed, and since you’ll be with us, we should be able to get in and out.”

“Unfortunately,” added Stanley, “the building won’t be accessible until seven, and Boyd or Klugman might come in early. You never know.”

“Right,” said Slocum. “I’ll make sure they’re delayed in case they decide to go to work early. You two better get some shuteye.”

“What about you?” said Katherine. “You’re going to be up all night.”

Slocum smiled. “Sweetheart, I’m doing what I love to do. I could go three days without sleep if I had to, longer if it meant taking down the agency, which it does. You just be ready in the morning.”

Katherine nodded and handed him the paper with the addresses. Without another word Slocum left the apartment, and considered how he would accomplish his mission as he drove through the empty city streets. 

Klugman was a light sleeper. Even when he had been married, it was more often he than his wife who heard strange noises in the middle of the night. He liked to think it was because of his heightened sense of hearing, but in reality it was because he was a coward. He was afraid of the dark, of all things, and the very thought of it kept him on edge, even while trying to sleep.

Now, at four in the morning, he was once again awake, peering into the shroud of darkness that blanketed his upscale home. He thought he had heard something, but it had been one of those peculiar noises that seem to be half fantasy, half real, and he wasn’t altogether certain that he hadn’t dreamed it.

“Probably the house settling,” he told himself. None of the alarms had gone off, so he wasn’t concerned about robbers. His state of the art system was foolproof. After staring out the window for another few minutes, Klugman finally went back to bed.

On the ground beneath the vintage Audi, inside the garage that had taken him ten minutes to penetrate, Slocum lay on his back, a small flashlight held between his teeth. Without a mechanics crawler it was slow going, but he finally found what he was looking for. He reached up and carefully loosened the wiring harness that ran from the fuel pump. He pulled it completely apart, and then reseated it so that the plastic ends met, but the metal contact points inside were separated. The car would now turn over, but without fuel pumping there was no way it would start. It would probably take a decent mechanic a couple hours to determine the cause.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Slocum eased himself from beneath the vehicle. Before leaving he reset the garage alarm, then readied himself for his next victim.  

It surprised Slocum that the security around the Taurus was better than that of the Audi. Of course, it had more to do with the perimeter around the apartment complex than with the actual value of the car. Still, it presented a challenge.

The security guard who sat perched on a stool inside his tiny booth wasn’t especially attentive. In fact, if Slocum wasn’t mistaken, he actually dozed off from time to time. The moment Slocum set foot in the parking lot, however, his movement might attract the attention of the man. This would not do.

The Taurus itself was parked in the middle of the lot. He knew it was the right vehicle, since it was the only blue Taurus anywhere near Boyd’s apartment, or anywhere in the lot for that matter. There didn’t seem to be assigned parking spots, and the car had apparently been left in the closest available space, which happened to be out in the open. Slocum looked at his watch. It was almost five o’clock. Plenty of time.

He didn’t want to get too close to the building, in case someone in one of the nearby units owned a dog. A barking animal was the last thing he wanted. He moved to the farthest point from the guard shack, diagonally across the parking lot. Crouching low, he made his way towards the Taurus, careful to always keep a vehicle between the guard’s line of sight and himself. He reached the car, and took a moment to ensure that he hadn’t been spotted. All was still.

Slocum alternated his attention between what he was doing and the dozing sentry. The driver’s door was locked, which was only a minor obstacle for Slocum. He quickly had it open, and released the hood. The faint click as the latch disengaged was insufficient to rouse the guard. Slocum went to the front of the car and raised the hood about two feet, clicked on his flashlight, and played it over the engine until he found the ignition control module. He gently pulled the top half of the module away from the base. Although it appeared to be completely intact, the electrical connection inside the module was now broken, which would prevent the electronic ignition from working. Unless the car’s owner was a mechanic, and a pretty good one, this car wasn’t going anywhere–except behind a tow truck.

He closed the hood as quietly as he could, but it still made a small noise. This time the guard sat up straight and looked around. But Slocum had already ducked behind the car, and after waiting a few minutes for the guard to settle back down, he retraced his steps across the parking lot. Five minutes later he was back in Katherine’s car and headed for the apartment. Now the real work would begin. 

When Slocum got back to the apartment it was almost six o’clock. Everyone looked up as he walked in the door.

“Well?” asked Kayoko.

“No problem. A security guard at the apartment complex slowed me down.”

“He saw you?”

“No, nothing like that,” said Slocum. “I just had to take my time getting around him. Both cars are set.” He looked at Stanley. “Are you guys ready?”

“We’re ready.”

Slocum nodded. “Good. The truck has two dollies in it–one regular sized, and one for heavier equipment. Once we get in your building, we’ll take both of them up together, but we’ll work on the big computer first. Then the workstations. And don’t forget any software that you might need, and cables, or whatever else. We won’t be invited back a second time.”

“We understand,” said Stanley.

Slocum continued. “If we get in by seven, we should be out by seven fifty. That’s our deadline. Are we all clear?” Everyone nodded, but they looked tired and worried. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said.

“Okay, Robert. We trust you,” said Katherine. She smiled at the former implementer.

“Good. Then let’s grab some computers.” 

Stanley and Katherine rode in Katherine’s car, while Slocum drove the stolen truck behind them. At precisely five minutes before seven they pulled into ScanDat’s parking lot. Slocum drove the truck right up to the main entrance. He had insisted that they take this approach; he claimed it would arouse less suspicion than if they tried to use an obscure side entrance. He parked the truck close enough to easily load, but not blocking anyone who might want to get into the building. Stanley parked Katherine’s car in a regular spot, and the three met at the truck.

“You two go first,” said Slocum, “and I’ll bring up the rear with my clipboard and dollies. Just act natural.”

Slocum opened the back of the truck, pulled down the metal ramp, and retrieved the two dollies, placing the smaller of the two on top of the other. They walked up to the front door, and Stanley went in, while Katherine held the door for Slocum. The security guard looked up at the unexpected arrival.