The Sand Trap (30 page)

“No way,” she replied. “First of all they
would have to know that the drive existed and you and I are the
only two who know it is even there. They would have to understand
and be able to crack our new laser generated password system.”

Richard showed some relief as he sipped his
drink.

This system had only recently been developed
by NRC physicists and according to them was so “random” as to not
be breakable by any ordinary or known means.

“The scientists at NRC who developed the new
system haven’t figured out how to break it. So, no, I can’t imagine
anyone breaking into the ghost file.”

“That’s good. So we can concentrate our
efforts on dealing with the breach of the main files. Any ideas
there?”

“I don’t have anything more than Henry.
Someone took advantage of that 30 second window and as far as I can
tell, downloaded the last year’s data from the storage servers.
While they were probably just after the main files, they extracted
the buried ghost files as well. They probably don’t even know they
are there. In total the ghost files are only 80 megs, so in the
scope of the millions of terabytes of data they stole, it would be
unlikely that they would notice they did not have access to eighty
megs of data hidden somewhere in the data.”

The ghost files were small, but the thought
of the wrong person or agency or government getting them caused
Richard to get another drink. Those files contained four things
that could never leak out. The first were the details of the CIDC
link with the secret NATO operation that killed people. The second
was a report he had written on each of the jobs that CIDC had been
involved with; the jobs that Gord had done for him. Thirdly, the
files contained all biographical and contact data on Gord and his
watcher. There were also the details of the financial transactions
between Gord and the Agency and the amounts and the banks where the
money went. He didn’t even want to think of what would happen if
this went public. It still nagged at him that someone would go to
this trouble for some Canadian intelligence data.

“Mary…” he paused. “What if they were after
the ghost files?”

Mary did not respond. Just took a sip of her
scotch.

“There’s something you’re not telling me
isn’t there?” he quietly demanded.

“I don’t want you to panic yet, but yes,
there are some things that are bothering me.”

“Like what?” Richard asked, trying not to
panic.

“The hackers did not take a full year of
data, only the last six months. Henry will just assume they scarfed
all they could in thirty seconds. What if they didn’t want all of
our data, they just wanted to find the details about something in
the CIDC files that occurred in the last six months?”

“OK…” Richard thought out loud. “So what has
happened in the last six months that would warrant such an attack
on our files?”

Mary ignored the rhetorical question.

“I have also been able to isolate the source
of the hacking, at least a geographical proximity. While they used
the most sophisticated computer hijacking method I have ever seen
it looks like this attack originated somewhere in Asia. Could be
China, but more likely either Japan or Korea.”

Richard understood at least part of what she
was saying. Hackers and scammers all around the world used the
relatively simple method of hijacking the computers that sit on the
desks of ordinary citizens, often without the computer owner even
being aware of what was happening – maybe just a small slowdown in
processing one day. Linked together these desktop processors became
a network that could do everything from sending spam to industrial
espionage. These hackers had probably used some sophisticated form
of this “hijacking” to get into CIDC and be untraceable.

“But there is also this.” Mary handed
Richard a printed copy of a page from the Ottawa Citizen. “This is
from last Tuesday’s Citizen.”

Richard put on his reading glasses and
started to read the article, actually an obituary, with rising
concern. The fifth page story reported on the apparent suicide of a
young scientist who worked at NRC. She was a recent graduate of the
University of Toronto with a degree in laser Physics and had only
been with NRC for a year. She had apparently left a suicide note
referring to a love affair gone wrong. It was the last line of the
story that gave him the chills. “Kim Yung Sool had immigrated to
Canada with her parents in 1986 and is survived by a brother and
grandparents in North Korea.”

Richard looked up from his reading and took
off his glasses.

“This can’t be just a coincidence can it?”
It was more of a statement than a question.

“I don’t think so,” Mary offered. “I don’t
think we we have to worry about the CIDC files. I think we have
someone out there reading the ghost files.”

They were both quiet for a moment and
Richard sprang into action as he grabbed his jacket and started for
the door. “Mary I want you to text Colonel Ed Smith at DND
headquarters. His number is in my contacts. Text the number labeled
“hunt camp” and leave the message ”Code Lemming” and give him
Gord’s home address.”

She looked puzzled.

“Just do it Mary,” he said as he ran from
the office. “There are some things even you don’t know.”

Richard ran to his car and started the Audi
5000 before he had even done up his seat belt. He wondered if he
was just panicking. The Lemming code was set up years ago to deal
with any circumstance where a CIDC agent was in danger. Colonel Ed
Smith was the current officer in charge of a specially trained and
security cleared group of six soldiers who could be mobilized at
short notice. To be truthful it was envisioned that someone would
have to be extracted from some foreign country, not saved in the
CIDC back yard. They had only been mobilized once in Richard’s
career at CIDC and that had been to pull a journalist out of
Pakistan. He didn’t know who the soldiers were but he knew they
included men, women, and represented a selection of ethnic
backgrounds. He knew they were surreptitious and deadly. If this
turned out to be real they could act with any force necessary. If
it was a false alarm no one would ever know. Richard glanced at his
watch. It was 7 pm and Gord had not answered his cell phone.
Richard had left a message for Gord to call him as soon as he heard
the message but he was probably still at the golf course doing an
after round post mortem with the other tournament golfers. The Club
did not allow cell phones on the course or in the bar. He decided
he would go by the house first and go to the course if Gord wasn’t
home.

(Back to Table of Contents)

Gord dosed off for a while after Bruce had
left, the effects of two quick and large Bushmills having their
effect. It was late afternoon when he woke, stiff from sleeping on
the bare floor with only his jacket for a pillow. “I’ll get some
real furniture when I find a new place,” he thought to himself.
Despite a late lunch of mostly whiskey and a nap on the floor, he
actually felt pretty good. He did a few Tai Chi stretches to get
his circulation going and decided that since he wasn’t going to the
banquet he should get some dinner. The talk with Bruce had been
helpful. He had resolved two things. That he would remember it was
indeed just a game. And that he was not going to give up on the
quest for his senior tour card, no matter how quixotic it seemed.
He hadn’t decided if he would play the second round tomorrow. Maybe
that would become clearer after a little dinner and a little music.
He grabbed his coat and headed out the door and decided to walk the
canal pathway to the strip mall a half a kilometer away to pick up
a prepared dinner. The late afternoon was pleasant and he was
surprisingly upbeat as he walked past joggers, parents with
strollers, bikers, hikers and commuters, all enjoying a warm July
Friday afternoon in Ottawa. It was late in the afternoon so neither
the mall nor the small store that served prepared food for
time-starved commuters was busy. The parking lot was half empty.
Gord should have noticed the new Hyundai sedan parked a little
apart from the other cars, but he was too preoccupied with his
thoughts and what he was going to do tomorrow, and the incident on
the bridge was long gone from his mind. So he focused instead upon
dinner as he entered the shop.

“Hi Gord!” Gloria, the owner and counter
person was genuinely delighted to see him. Not only was he one of
her most regular customers but also she figured he was also one of
her hottest prospects for her next husband. Number four had just
left her, tired of the restaurant hours, or maybe because she was
showing the effects of eating too much of her own food. It didn’t
matter since she only felt good riddance. She had watched Gord with
increasingly hungry eyes ever since Gail had left six months ago.
He was tall, the right age. She herself was fifty-five. He was fit,
not too bad looking and apparently had money. “What more could she
ask for?” she thought.

“I have something special for you today. I
made it just for you – a Steak and Kidney pie,” she proudly
announced.

Gord could not remember when he mentioned to
Gloria that he liked Steak and Kidney pie. He did for that matter,
and even though it wasn’t what he had in mind for tonight it looked
like he didn’t have much choice.

“You are a dear Gloria!” he enthusiastically
responded. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Gord took out his wallet while Gloria was
all proud smiles as she put the dinner in the reheatable container
into a plastic bag.

“Will it feed two?” a voice came from behind
Gord and he turned to see Monica standing just inside the door. He
really is getting old he thought. He didn’t even hear her coming
into the store. He moved towards her and gave her a big hug.

Gloria scowled.

“Is your daughter joining you for dinner?”
she coldly inquired.

“I love steak and kidney pie Daddy!" Monica
offered with a mischievous grin. "Let’s take it home and we can
catch up.”

Gloria became a little more civil and
carefully bagged the dinner and, with a big wink to Gord, threw in
a couple of hot cross buns for free.

“Thanks Gloria.”

“See you soon Gord.”

When they were outside Monica put her arm
through Gord’s.

“That woman wants your body you know?”

“Yeah, just a hazard of being tall,
handsome, athletic and good looking I guess.”

“More like a walking ATM is my guess,”
Monica retorted.

They walked in silence, arm in arm like two
contented lovers on a Friday afternoon, until they reached the
canal pathway. Neither noticed the dark sedan that sped off on
Queen Elizabeth Drive.

“So, to what do I owe this sudden visit from
my favourite protégé?”

“Would you believe I missed you and was
curious as to what you were up to?”

“The curious part maybe. The missed part I’m
a little skeptical of. But I have missed you Monica. I probably
spent more time with you over the past eight years than with my
wife. Of course that may be why I don’t have a wife anymore. A lot
has happened over the past couple of months. I’ll fill you in over
a drink at the house. I hope you don’t mind sitting on the
floor?”

“I’ve some things I have to tell you as
well,” Monica offered as they continued their walk along the canal
in silence.

Gord was delighted at this little surprise
visit by Monica. He had missed her. She was a willing and available
ear for his personal challenges – wife, kids and the work
frustrations. They had shared many long days at recruitment fairs
and many long dinners in far away countries. Once in a while she
would mention a boyfriend, more a date than a relationship. But
other than that she kept her personal life much to herself. While
travelling they tried hard not to get in the way of each other’s
interests. She apparently liked to shop and he had his blues bars
and golf courses. Theirs was a warm and comfortable friendship that
went beyond the formal boss-subordinate roles they occupied. He was
never quite sure just how she viewed him since they were thirty
years apart in age. He could be her father, although he had to
admit to himself he never saw her as daughter. Now he was quite at
ease as they walked together along the canal as if it was something
they did every pleasant Friday afternoon; he carrying the evening’s
dinner and she with a larger purse over her arm that more than
likely had the right wine to go with the dinner. Far too soon they
were at the driveway to his, …or his ex's, ...house and went up the
stairs to the front porch while Gord opened the unlocked door.
Monica was surprised.

“We never lock our doors in this
neighbourhood. Besides. Take a look. What would they steal? The
furniture?”