The Puppetmasters Page 7

  Kendall was stunned beyond belief, rendering her speechless for a moment. “How can you people live like this? What are you … a bunch of animals?”

  Now it was Rashid’s turn to show anger. “You call us a bunch of animals with the types of crimes the U.S. has? Don’t judge this country, Kendall. There’s actually very little crime here. When crime happens, punishment is handed out swiftly and severely. It’s just a different way of life than what you are used to. It is actually a very effective way to maintain an ordered society.”

  She felt so sad, trying to take this all in. “But what do people do to deserve flogging or beheading?”

  “Usually, they steal or lie or commit adultery. If they steal, a finger is often cut off.”

  “What do they have to do to be beheaded?”

  “Kill someone, act against the president or country, or take off with another man’s wife.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Kendall retorted with all the sarcasm she could muster. Then it dawned on her that their discussions and talk of “plans” fit within that definition. “And don’t our discussions fall within those parameters, Rashid?”

  “That’s why we need to be careful.” He grabbed her hand and led her to his parked jeep. Paul Fields had long since been returned to the military compound. They drove back to the base in silence. As she stepped out of the vehicle, Rashid came over to her side and whispered, “Please believe me, Kendall. I will not hurt you. We can help each other. Look at me! Can you not see that I speak the truth? I’ll see you after the morning meal tomorrow.” He gently kissed the top of her head.

  Kendall lay in bed turning from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position. She felt thoroughly miserable at all the events of the day. She was overwhelmed with the brutal Afghan men she had met, and the things she had been told. She was terrified of the unknown. She also worried about her mother, who would be expecting her biweekly checkin call. Her head was reeling at the things she had heard today.

  But deep down, she did feel a measure of comfort with Rashid. She believed he was a good and kind person … maybe even “civilized” when compared to the other men she had met earlier. He had apparently learned to adapt through difficult circumstances. Her instincts told her to trust him, and that he had far more resources than she could ever imagine.

  Her body gave a jerk at the first shriek. Someone outside was screaming in pain! Amidst the piercing cries of torture, Kendall could hear raucous laughter. The horror continued for almost an hour but seemed to last an eternity. She felt she had descended into the very depths of Hell itself. Her body was frozen with alarm, and she began to cry in huge sobs of fear and panic. She fell into an exhausted and fitful sleep.

  Sometime later, Rashid, too, lay in his warm, comfortable bed and replayed the day’s events. He liked Kendall, and realized that she could be a useful tool for him. He knew how to manipulate her, given her current stressful existence. But he struggled with how far he should push it. He actually felt a personal connection with her, and that really bothered him. He was a professional, had no time for a woman in his life, and was not about to jeopardize his mission. He had a goal that was bigger than himself … bigger than the president … even bigger than Afghanistan. He must be careful tomorrow, think clearly, and practically, and above all proceed cautiously and logically. He knew exactly what he would do tomorrow. But he, too, fell into an exhausted and fitful sleep … with dreams of a lovely chestnut-haired, green-eyed female tormenting him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DANIEL BLUMFELD TOOK THE CALL mid-morning on his prepaid disposable cell phone. He was shocked to hear that Paul Fields and Glenn Carson had been kidnapped when their plane returning to Seattle had been taken over mid-flight. The entire crew had been slaughtered. Holy Shit! he thought.

  He was in over his head. He hadn’t minded providing a conduit for information, but he never thought he would be privy to news like this. He had not heard anything on the news or in email this morning. He could only conclude that either Orion security was keeping a lid on this, or the facts were not yet known.

  The caller was insistent that a third employee had been abducted as well, a Kendall Radcliffe. Oh my God, he knew her! He had worked with her when the company’s remote storage datacenter was set up. He genuinely liked and respected her and considered her a friend. They had shared many meals when she traveled to the company’s datacenter site.

  Daniel was at the datacenter alone most of the day under tight security conditions. A few employees came and went during the day. As a condition to being hired, he had agreed to live on the premises. He had a nice setup in the loft of the oversized warehouse-type building. His mother and sister had helped him decorate, so the open-concept living area was comfortable and spacious. He was not allowed to entertain visitors on site. His family could visit, but they were restricted to his living area.

  His personal computers were in his living space, and he had the latest in secure servers and network tools. He had made sure that no one could trace any of his personal messages, let alone recreate his key strokes. He hadn’t received a PhD in Computer Science from MIT for nothing. He was repaying the people who funded his education, and therefore he had agreed to this “arrangement” for a few years. Since he was being rewarded handsomely and had little chance of being caught, he thought he had a pretty sweet deal. His offshore retirement account was growing at an astonishing rate.

  The only drawback was that there was no night life. He was in a small town surrounded by acres and acres of farmland. There was no action to be had. Still, he felt he could handle this for a few years, and he resigned himself to saving as much money as he could until he could no longer stand the living arrangements—most particularly, the isolation. He spent his personal time playing computer games and perfecting his expertise.

  In the field of computer science, Daniel was considered to be an expert in the time complexity of an algorithm. He admitted to being able to randomize the binary search-tree process, thereby hiding the scope of the resulting elementary operations. What very few people knew, including most of the Orion research and development group, was that by manipulating the IP address to send and receive at random, he could open a hidden portal or “window” on an email address, website, or cell phone. He could then instruct the personal account or number at will to stream data that should have been totally and completely private. It could not be tracked or traced back to the company, and the “victim” had no way of knowing there were eyes on its data. Further, if the unsuspecting person checked his email via a smart phone, a permanent conduit would open to all of the text messages on that cell phone and any other that it communicated with, giving the peeper access to even more accounts and data. Daniel’s high-tech spying tool was code named Prophecy.

  The coup de gras was the USB device that was given out as a company freebie. It was embedded with Prophecy and established a link to the hardware into which it was attached, and automatically streamed the entire content back to Orion Technologies … via Daniel. It was like a creeping vine of streaming data. Truly, the gift that keeps on giving.

  The streaming process took place automatically using special servers housed within the datacenter. As the massive content was received, search parameters immediately highlighted and separated out critical data. The source was reduced to an algorithm. The pertinent information was parsed through query and then forwarded on to Daniel, with the full awareness of Fields and Carson. Based on information from the executives, Daniel knew what to escalate. The beauty was that anyone reviewing the data would have no idea who it belonged to or what it all meant. They would simply think these were internal, proprietary documents of Orion Premier Net Services.

  The whole process was working great, and tons of secrets were pouring in every day, much of it proprietary in nature. Orion Premier got the jump on its competitors.

  But for the extreme invasion of privacy on several levels and the countless laws being broken, Daniel would have liked to obtai
n a patent on the process. He lamented that he had done the work under the watchful eyes of Orion executive Paul Fields, rather than as an independent operative or consultant.

  As a way to compensate himself for the untold millions of dollars lost in foregoing a patent, Daniel allowed himself to decide who could know and access the streaming data. When the company datacenter was first set up and the new technology Prophecy activated daily, he had rationalized this as a harmless endeavor, so long as he granted it to only trustworthy people with the highest and best motives. He had even built in a safeguard whereby, should information unexpectedly get into the wrong hands or be used for evil intent, he could “lock out” the curious eyes permanently. But that would work only so long as he had the technical know-how to detect other eyes.

  He also viewed his creation as a form of artificial intelligence that could literally save the world, if used responsibly. Orion executives had commissioned the project during Daniel’s two summer internships under the guise of a technical security research project.

  The Orion leaders were, in fact, using the “anonymous eyes,” or Prophecy technology, for their own purposes. It was Daniel’s opinion he wasn’t responsible for what Orion was doing. But Daniel had not revealed to the Orion people in the know—namely, Paul Fields and Glenn Carson, the two trusted childhood friends—that he could actually view what information was being looked at, by whom, and on what date.

  Daniel knew that the Orion executives had allowed another entity to routinely stream certain data from multiple sources. He tracked the information being gathered and noted the observer. He was quite surprised that the Orion principals were in bed with the devil himself and wondered how much time would elapse before the whole thing blew up and somebody went public or got caught with proprietary information.

  In the meantime, he was working his own deal on the side, allowing his “benefactor” to gather information from various accounts.

  Daniel was extraordinarily intelligent, but he also had a practical side. The caller, his “benefactor,” instructed him to pass an anonymous message to the head of security. He had to figure out how to do it fast and in secret. He was located some 100 miles from the company headquarters. How was he supposed to get an urgent message to security in Seattle?

  With some calm, focused thinking, he came up with a plan. Using a prepaid cell phone that he had purchased with cash, he phoned in an order to a messenger service, using a fake employee name but the correct company account number. He arranged to have the messenger meet him in the lobby of one of the busier company buildings. The message was all typed out, along with the customized Orion messenger slip. Daniel drove to Seattle in a little over an hour, exceeding the speed limit whenever he could. He donned a khaki jungle hat and his thick black plastic-rimmed prescription glasses that he never wore in public. He knew he would fit right in, and no one would recognize him. The instructions for the messenger were to deliver the plain envelope addressed to Eric McDougall at the latter’s building.

  The plan went without a hitch. The weather was perfect, the state troopers a rare site, usually heading the opposite direction. All precautions were taken. Daniel used driving gloves when handling the envelope and messenger slip, and made it to the agreed upon meeting place with five minutes to spare. He had left the datacenter around 10:30 a.m. and told the few employees who happened to be working there today that he was out pricing hardware—something he frequently did—and would then go to lunch and be back before 1:00 p.m.

  He handed off the envelope to the messenger while assuming an attitude of youth, irresponsibility, average intelligence, talk of parties and goofing off, and a good measure of English slang … all things the real Daniel would never do. He watched the messenger get in his car and head towards McDougall’s building, and fervently hoped Mickey was in the office today.

  Finally, he walked out of the building, down the street, and into a nearby restaurant where he stopped at the restroom and removed his hat, glasses, and gloves and placed them in his large blue backpack. The blue backpack had been rolled up and stashed in the empty red backpack he had carried into the Orion building for his meeting with the messenger.

  Daniel then walked through the restaurant and exited out back into an alley. He headed to a parking garage some half a mile away and, more importantly, out of range of the company surveillance cameras. He made sure to pay with cash, leaving no trace of his trip.

  It was now noon, and Daniel was sweating bullets. He was about thirty minutes out of the city of Seattle and would be back at the Datacenter in another thirty. Now that his mission was over, with the hat, glasses, driving gloves, and the two backpacks having been stowed away in his trunk, he was replaying everything to see if he had forgotten any details. He felt like he’d just committed a criminal act, but he was simply delivering a message. This was all too cloak-and-dagger for him.

  He pulled into the datacenter parking lot and drove around back to his designated spot. He entered the building from his private stairwell, grabbed a banana, and headed down to the floor where it looked as if he had been having lunch in his upstairs quarters.

  Of course, if anyone checked surveillance, they would see the time his car drove in. But he felt that was unlikely. Besides, the surveillance footage was on a loop, and would record over the top of the existing data within a week. The one employee he encountered on the datacenter floor amidst the rows of servers, heading to his office, appeared bored and merely grunted as they passed.

  Daniel sat in front of his computer screen and breathed a sigh of relief. He was dying to know what would happen next and figured, at the very least, that some sort of public announcement would be made. At the same time, there was a sense of foreboding deep in Daniel’s gut.

  He had unleashed a piece of information that could get him fired, arrested, and even killed. If caught, he couldn’t begin to tell the truth. There were too many operatives with their customized piece of information, not knowing of the others. Any of them could come after him. He couldn’t tell them about each other, because some of them didn’t know that he had knowledge of their existence within the Orion Datacenter world. The final complication was that Fields and Carson didn’t have a clue as to the scope of information Daniel was routinely monitoring as it flowed in and out of the servers.

  Each of the parties to the illegal snooping thought they were the only ones to have knowledge about and be using the unregistered, illegitimate intellectual property technology. Removed from it all was Daniel, watching and waiting … but most importantly, keeping his nose clean. He was not doing anything with the data other than to isolate it and place it on a secure server that was used only by Paul Fields. Daniel simply observed who was doing what, and had found the whole thing amusing … until now.

  Out in the datacenter ether, another set of eyes was observing the proceedings of the past two days from his shadowy world. He was fascinated at the fast-paced unfolding of this worldwide drama. He was eager to share his knowledge and knew that he would be rewarded for his work. Now, he just had to figure out how much to share and how to get it to the right people.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MICKEY SAT AT HIS DESK in shock. He held the recently delivered note in his hand. It was short and to-the-point:

  Paul Fields, Glenn Carson, and Kendall Radcliffe have been kidnapped. Control of their plane was taken over by international operatives. International forces are working to free them. Wait for further instructions.

  It was 3:00 p.m. when Mickey’s admin handed him the innocuous looking plain white envelope. He frowned, and his fingers fumbled as he attempted to open it. He read it and sat back. After a few minutes—when his mind froze—he could only think, “What the fuck?” He didn’t know if he was more surprised at the kidnapping, or that Kendall Radcliffe was part of the abducted group. And who, he wondered, were the “international forces” that were working to free them?

  Mickey quickly scanned the note into his computer and fired off an email to
FBI Special Agent Zanders, attaching the scanned note. He used a well-known high-level security utility that scrambled the message and attachment. Zanders, possessing the same high-tech scrambling software, received the email and attachment, both of which were then unscrambled.

  Neither of them knew that the so-called high-tech scrambling security device was no barrier for Daniel’s brilliant mind.

  Within five minutes Mickey’s phone was ringing. He answered it before the first ring, noting the caller ID, and barked into the phone, “Zanders, what do you make of this note?”

  “How did you get it? Who delivered it? Do you have the envelope?”

  “It was handed to me by my admin five minutes ago. The envelope looks like plain white stationery store stock.”

  “Okay. Please preserve it. Place it inside something, like a large Baggie or bigger envelope. Try not to touch it anymore. We’ll be running it for DNA and fingerprints.”

  Zanders took a deep breath and continued, “I’m going to fly out there. I should be in Seattle late tonight; I’ll touch base with you late this evening for any updates, and will meet you first thing in the morning. In the meantime, you need to trace the delivery of the envelope. Talk to the messenger service, the front desk of your building, and the messenger person who delivered it. Get the exact time when the service took possession of the envelope. If this is your usual messenger service, there should be some form or something that accompanies the envelope, I assume. Get that, too.

  “Now, who is this Kendall Radcliffe?”

  “That’s what has me confounded. She’s the new director of operations. It’s an upper-level position, but not one that would routinely have her crossing paths with the company executives … so far as I know.”

  “Damn! Do you think this Kendall Radcliffe is in on the kidnapping? Get me all the information you have on her by the time I see you in the morning. Take a look at her employee file, and let’s retrace her steps for the past few months or even earlier. I want to know who her friends are—particularly at Orion Premier—any boyfriend, husband, or kids, and anything else that you run across that might be useful. I’ll run a criminal background check and pull her passport records showing her international travel. I’ll talk to you in about six hours.”