tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73113131831625913472024-03-05T03:18:47.342-08:00For Toil and TroublePrequel to the Dag Hamar mystery "For Blood or Money"Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-31417593707740229342011-11-01T12:00:00.000-07:002011-11-01T12:08:46.499-07:00A Dag Hamar Mystery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiVHmi_48WEquP_OafYFtvhvg-lqA9-cgQf5ZfzExqp2zniHFbbCC46HT7p-WEV_eaqrnDIU4moz-9MKWthl4Tu9VBjoWaawk3SKOtEKnLO7TIv2vqbjZYqIKJDyQGBvTQ128qbAloj0/s1600/Cover2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" width="600px" height="900px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiVHmi_48WEquP_OafYFtvhvg-lqA9-cgQf5ZfzExqp2zniHFbbCC46HT7p-WEV_eaqrnDIU4moz-9MKWthl4Tu9VBjoWaawk3SKOtEKnLO7TIv2vqbjZYqIKJDyQGBvTQ128qbAloj0/s320/Cover2.jpg" width="213px" /></a></div><span id="goog_1848728348"></span><span id="goog_1848728349"></span>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-58185106296395929352011-05-16T20:30:00.000-07:002011-11-29T08:32:38.711-08:00Your Several Loves<blockquote><p><em>We shall not spend a large expense of time<br />
Before we reckon with your several loves,<br />
And make us even with you.<br />
—Macbeth V. vii</em></p></blockquote><p><i>“What’s your superpower?”</i> <p><i>“I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.”</i> A fat lot of good that power was going to do me. I needed to be superman. <p><i>“What’s your superpower?”</i> <p><i>“I can hold my breath for two minutes.”</i> Hold on, Andi. Hold on. <p>It couldn’t have taken me more than 30 seconds to dump Cali outside the building and run back in. I grabbed the railing as I rounded the last landing, burning my hand on the hot metal. I would hold out the axe to her and pull her out. <p>But neither Andi nor the landing she clung to was there. <p align="center">*** <p>I was still in the hospital when I saw the news about CCS. The picture showed Darlene Alexander being led from the building by FBI agents. The sound was off, but the tickertape running across the bottom of the screen said “Embezzler takes credit company for millions. Arrested on inside tip.” Unlike the usual executive being cuffed, Darlene didn’t try to hide her face from the cameras. In fact, at one point she raised her head and looked straight into the lens and smiled sadly. Without the sound, I had the feeling she was communicating with me. <p>I had mixed emotions. She had saved my ass on two occasions and even provided the information that let me reach Cali in time. But Darlene had been the coordinator of every huge technical and security project the company had done since it was founded. A simple administrative position. She’d stepped aside to let Arnie take the credit for his “team.” She’d hitched her wagon to his star, as she put it to me. It kept her in a suspicion-free position where she had access to everything in the company. It turned out that she’d been the technical brains behind most of Arnie’s accomplishments. Even the reports she was supposedly receiving from Arnie to feed to me for my fake meetings were her own work and not his. And I’d only discovered the tip of the iceberg when I found the activation fee scam. The virus I’d let loose in the company network packaged up every file she’d ever touched. She’d routinely pulled single cards from batches in the manufacturing facility for years, selling them on the black market. She’d pulled account and personal information from the records at random to sell to thieves. Since the information had no set pattern, no one had ever managed to find the source of the leaked information. But compromising credit information is a Federal offense. <p>I’d set the trap that fateful afternoon, planting a virus in place that would collect information about the user when one of several key words or phrases was used. “IGotUrBak” was one of them. As soon as she joined the game, the program started collecting and packaging her information, then delivered it to the desks of Arnie and Jen. I knew from Jen it would go straight to the CEO and Arnie would have to act immediately. He called the Feds and turned over the information, citing an internal investigation. He wasn’t happy about losing such a valuable aide. The thing is, if she hadn’t been so focused on helping me find Cali, she could have easily spiked my virus and stayed free. <p>Somehow, the whole team blamed me for Darlene’s disgrace. Typical. <p>All except Jen. <p>She visited me in the hospital during my short stay. I wasn’t much company. She genuinely sympathized and asked me to let her know if there was anything she could do to help me. Although I could still see a wistful desire in her eyes, it wasn’t an inappropriate offer and there was no suggestion in it. She knew there was no way I’d be fit for a relationship in the foreseeable future and she’s not the type to try to put a broken man back together. Not like Andi had. <p>I went home when I was released and turned out the lights in my black room. I huddled in my bed with my bandaged hands held to my chest. I could still smell Andi’s and my love-making in the sheets. I wept. <p align="center">*** <p>There was a memorial service at the college the next week. I went in my gray suit, white shirt, and the tie she’d picked out for me. I saw Cali across the room. She was surrounded by friends from school and the theater. I wanted to rush up to her and hold her, but the one time our eyes met, she dropped her head and turned away from me. Child Protective Services had arranged temporary housing and care for her. When she was 18, she would be allowed to return home alone, but until that time—still a few months away—she was a ward of the State. There was no question that she was sole heir to her mother’s estate, but I didn’t know how they took care of property and mortgages and such in the interim. I was worried about her. <p>I didn’t go to Melissa’s memorial. I saw Olivia and James at Andi’s service. I’m sure they were in shock over their daughter’s murder. James came up to me and started to speak, but couldn’t. As he started back to his wife he turned back to me and croaked out, “They told us she’d run away. We’d never have…” He left the rest unsaid and escorted his wife out of the auditorium. They’d always assumed the worst about their daughter. I wasn’t about to confirm any of it. Pain was all any of us knew anymore. <p>I went home. <p>The doctor had given me some pretty kickass drugs to combat the pain of my burned hands and various other injuries I didn’t know I’d received. A hospital counselor added a brochure on the seven stages of grief. Shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, acceptance. I couldn’t find anything in the damn brochure about bitterness and regret. If I had known it would all end so soon… I wouldn’t have changed falling in love. Oh but I’d have started so much earlier. <p>I didn’t remember anything about getting out of the burning warehouse. I was carried out, I discovered. I woke up in a hospital the next day and begged to go back to sleep. Jordan came by. He told me that when the firemen got to me I was smashing my tablet with the axe and screaming “Escape! Escape! Escape!” Maybe the screams had saved my life. I was choking on the smoke and keeling over when they dragged my sorry ass out of there. <p>My throat was sore. The doctor said it was an effect of the smoke inhalation and the screaming I’d done. <p>I knew it was from the constant weeping. <p align="center">*** <p>I sat in my office Monday morning, the day after Mother’s Day. I’d been lousy company for my mother when I took her to brunch. I hadn’t had much appetite and she never ate that much. We both sat next to the window looking out at the fishing boats. She dreamed, I suppose, of my father getting off one of them and coming to meet her. I dreamed of getting on one and sailing away into oblivion. We held each other’s hands as we looked out onto the blue sky and tears fell from our eyes. Oh God! How long does this go on? <p>I had to start pulling myself together, even though I knew I had nothing to do in the office. I showered, shaved, and dressed in my suit and tie. Somehow, the suit made me feel close to Andi. She and Cali had done my makeover. I wanted them to be proud. I stopped at the Analog for a coffee to go and then walked over to Olive before I headed uphill so I wouldn’t have to pass Andi’s empty house. It was bad enough that Lonnie’s mournful look and silence had nearly crippled me. The sun was shining and I broke a bit of a sweat by the time I got up to 15th. The folks in the other offices must have heard me come in as Janna soon poked her head around my doorframe. <p>“Just wanted to make sure it was you,” she said when I nodded at her. “How are you doing?” I started to say something, but I knew she wouldn’t accept “fine” as an answer. I just shook my head. She didn’t know the entire story, but she was aware that the guy they arrested was the same one who was stalking her client David. “Look, if you need to talk, I’ve got a pretty open calendar today. Just stop upstairs.” <p>“Thank you, Janna. I don’t know what to say yet. I can’t say it.” I’d wept, I’d shouted, I’d even gone to a bar, but the first swallow of the straight vodka I ordered came spewing out my nose as I choked on it. I hadn’t been able to simply say “She’s dead.” <p>“Well, I’m putting a fresh pot of coffee on. Help yourself.” She turned toward the kitchen but turned back before she’d taken a step away. “And Dag. Don’t blame yourself. God only knows how many children you saved.” <p>I wanted to scream at her. <i>I couldn’t save the most important person!</i> <p>But maybe I had. I’d saved Cali. That was Andi’s last desperate plea to me. <p align="center">*** <p>I can’t say I’d accomplished anything. I’d been in the office for several hours, but couldn’t name one productive thing I’d done. Stupid computer maintenance—defragging the drive. Throwing out most of the mail that had piled up in the past two weeks. Officially resigning my job at CCS. They were paying me two weeks sick leave and company insurance was covering all my hospital bills. I didn’t know how that worked. I only vaguely remembered signing the necessary forms, but apparently the coverage was effective on the first of the month. Just in time. I knew that whatever they sent me as salary and severance would pale next to what Lars would bill for my services. <p>That left just one thing. The brown envelope on my desk. I was still contemplating what I would do with it when I heard the outer door open and steps approach my office. I looked up in time to see Cali round the corner and step through my door. <p>I don’t think she expected to see me there. She caught her breath and stood staring at me. <p>“Cali?” The sound of my voice seemed to startle her even more and I was afraid she was simply going to bolt from the room. She wore blue jeans and a sleeveless shirt and carried her school bag and jacket. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself, but each time she inhaled it was like a gasp for air. She cautiously moved around my desk to take the seat facing me. She had an envelope in her hand but she made no move to give it to me. I was afraid that if I said anything she would fly away like the frightened bird she appeared to be. So we sat in silence, staring at each other. <p>“You’re fired!” she suddenly blurted out. “I want my money back.” She threw the envelope across the desk. “I wrote cancelled on the contract.” I reached for the envelope with my bandaged hand and heard a mewling sound as she curled herself up in the chair. “I’m sorry.” <p>“It’s okay, Cali. Your mom did all the work. It’s here.” <p>“I don’t want to know! I want to remember her like she always was. I don’t want to know what she did or who she was. Take it away!” I pulled both envelopes back and slipped them into my desk drawer. <p>“Cali,” I said softly. <p>“I hate you!” There was a fierce storm building in her eyes and her ragged breathing now was coming in deep sobs. “I thought you were a superhero. I thought you’d make everything better. But you couldn’t save Mel. You couldn’t even save Mommy and you loved her. I know you did! You loved her and I thought someday you’d be my daddy. And now I hate you and I hate myself.” <p><i>Oh God! Please don’t do this Cali!</i> I hated myself. And for just an instant I regretted not leaving her to the flames and saving her mother. I’m not a superhero. I’m not even a good person! <p>I had only a moment for the tears to flood my eyes when Cali moved and launched herself at me. She was hanging from my neck with her face buried in my chest wailing and all I could do was hold her and cry out all the pain and horror that we both experienced. <p>She kept sobbing, intermittently gasping, “My Mommy. My Daddy.” I knew in that instant that she was my baby girl as much as if Andi and I had married. I could never have left her in that building, even if it had been my life that was forfeited. I wondered if there was a way I could adopt her. <p>I saw a movement a caught a glimpse of Janna at the door to see if everything was okay. She disappeared and I heard the sound of cups rattling in the kitchen. Gradually, Cali’s sobs let up and for a few minutes I thought she was asleep while I petted her silky hair. During that time, I saw Janna again. This time she slid a tray with two cups of tea onto my desk quietly, nodded reassuringly to me and left. Cali stirred and pushed away from me. She looked at the cups of tea suspiciously, but took one as she sat back in the chair on the other side of the desk. <p>“It’s like that all the time,” she said, finally. “One minute I’m fine and the next I’m a wreck. I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.” I looked at the tear stained front of my jacket and just shrugged. <p>“It wouldn’t make a difference if you did, Cali. I would hold you forever.” <p>“I know you did your best, Dag. I know you tried to save her, both of them. I don’t blame you. But I get so angry. And they aren’t even putting the bastard in jail!” <p>That wasn’t quite true. He’d been jailed without bail, but then moved to a secure hospital. Jordan told me it looked like he wasn’t mentally competent to stand trial. He still kept muttering over and over, “It’s just a game.” John Patterson had tipped over the edge of not being able to tell the difference between cyberspace and reality. It was a condition I was dangerously close to myself, I realized. <p>“There is so much evidence against him that he will never be free again. He’ll either be in a hospital for the rest of his life or in prison for the rest of his life.” <p>“But he won’t hang!” The venom in Cali’s voice was frightening, even if understood. I’ve always been opposed to capital punishment, but I confess that if I could get my hands on him I’d kill him myself. <p>“Where are you living?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation away from our anger. <p>“Can you believe they put me clear out in Bellevue! Thank God there are only a few more weeks of school left. The bus ride is like an hour long. And so much for theater. This is going to kill my career. They say I can transfer my Running Start to Bellevue College, but it’s like being sentenced to Siberia.” <p>“Cali, do you want me to…” I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of adoption with her. It probably was too soon, but if she wanted me to advocate for her I’d step in. <p>“I already asked them. CPS said there is no way they’d allow me to live with a middle-aged man, no matter what your relationship to my mother was.” <p>“Middle-aged?” She looked at me and finally we both laughed. It wasn’t much, but it was the first time either of us had laughed since that night. <p>“You need a new dye-job. Your roots are showing.” Well, it had been two weeks since Andi and Cali touched them up in their kitchen. There was a halo of blond surrounding my head and mustache. <p>“I’m going to let it grow out,” I said. “I can’t maintain coloring them. I’m going to keep it all trimmed and short, though.” <p>“I see you dressed in a suit to come to the office, too.” <p>“I’ll need to buy a couple more or this one will be worn out.” We were chit-chatting about nothing, trying desperately to live in a moment when everything was normal. We both knew it wouldn’t last. <p>“Dag, what did Mom say?” I reached back into my drawer for the brown envelope. “No! I don’t want to know. I just want to know… It wasn’t something terrible that she did, was it?” <p>“Oh Cali. Andi wasn’t capable of doing something terrible. She loved you. She loved you so much she gave her life for you. Twice.” Her lip quivered and for a moment I thought we would both return to tears. <p>“Can I ask you to keep that for me? Someday, I’ll come back and get it. When I’m ready. Right now, I just want to remember Mom the way I always knew her. I just want to love her like she loved me.” <p>“It will be here.” Cali rose from her chair and put the tea mug on the tray. This time I stood and walked with her to the door. She stopped and looked up at me before she left. <p>“We’ll be okay, won’t we? Someday?” she asked. <p>“We’ll be okay. I know I have a business to run and a client I made a promise to. I have to be okay. And you have school to finish and a big career on stage and screen waiting for you. You can’t disappoint your public.” <p>“I’ll invite you to all my openings,” she said. She hugged me again and I kissed the top of her head. She smiled up at me and then headed off to catch her bus back to Bellevue. <p>Somehow, we would survive.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-84985194669155073242011-05-03T00:09:00.000-07:002011-11-28T09:10:02.201-08:00Hold Enough—Part 2<p>Jan and Donna Garrick rolled up beside us and asked where we wanted them to check. We sent them to cruise up and down the waterfront. That was where Seattle was most vulnerable and was the furthest out that I could imagine they could have gone by now. Jordan has said Patterson’s yacht was anchored out in the Sound, so the Marina was a logical place for him to head. Sara Gates and Sandy Halstead were then sent south. Of all our friends, the two musicians would be most familiar and comfortable with Pioneer Square. Andi took over deploying our friends as I started reviewing images flashing on my screen from various cameras. <p>He’d done it again. He disappeared into the tunnel entrance, but never showed up on the security cameras once inside. Andi turned up University and I jumped out of the car and headed for the tunnel entrance. Watching a live feed of the University Street tunnel and the CCS security camera, I entered and headed to the escalator. I saw myself disappear from the CCS feed just after I left the street. I watched the tunnel cameras as I emerged into the tunnel at the bottom of the escalator. I didn’t come on camera until I was ten feet into the tunnel. In that ten feet, there was an access door to the maintenance shafts. I felt my stomach tie in knots as I tested the locked door. I sent a message to the police ground team and was joined in the tunnel five minutes later by two uniformed officers and a Metro maintenance worker. I was ordered to stay out of the tunnel as they unlocked the door and went in. I ran back up the escalator. All busses and trains were being stopped at the tunnel stations and searched. <p>Andi brought the van around on Third to the entrance and was anxiously awaiting me when I came out. I slid into the seat next to her and gave her a hug. “We’ll find her,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “I swear we’ll find her.” She nodded. I could see her jaw clenching. Her hands both gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were blue. <p>I looked at the game status. Eighty more players had joined in the past ten minutes. Word had gone out that we were chasing down John Patterson. The gaming community was out for blood. When one of their own became a pariah, there was no tolerance. I scanned the video feeds that were continuing to come in from around the city. It was just too much data for my tiny screen. I reached for my cell phone and dialed Jen. <p>“This isn’t what I intended to spring on you tonight.” <p>“I didn’t think so, but you never know.” <p>“Look, I’ve got too much information flowing in to handle it all. I need a filter.” <p>“You want us to watch first and feed you what we think is pertinent.” <p>“Is the whole team there?” <p>“Yes. Even Arnie and Darlene are set up.” <p>“I’ll transfer all the video feeds into the company and you can sort them out. I’m betting he headed north, but it wasn’t on a bus. There could be an access to his fricking office down there or a garage or a tunnel all the way to the Marina. But his yacht is anchored off Shilshole Bay. I’m betting he’s headed that way.” <p>“Route the feed to Supurnurd,” she said. “That’s Ford. He’ll distribute to the rest of the team.” I thanked her and hit the switch to distribute my info feed to Ford. I recognized the name. He was one of my six pursuers in the game a few nights ago. Well, if they were that good, then I definitely wanted them on my team. I could imagine the feed suddenly lighting up the eight foot wide screens in the various conference rooms around our office where a dozen windows could be opened on-screen and observed at the same time. I contemplated the maps of Seattle that now took over my screen. <p>Paula and Dick Wagner pulled up beside the van and handed coffee through the window to us. They had loaded their vehicle with urns of coffee and were handing out cups to everyone engaged in the search. Their coffee shop was in Pioneer Square and the name played off the most popular tourist attraction in the area: wUnder Grounds. I stared at the cup, thinking. <p>After the Great Seattle Fire of 1897 when more than 30 blocks of wooden buildings in downtown Seattle were destroyed, the city started rebuilding according to a new code—all buildings had to be made of stone, steel, and masonry. The new buildings went up almost as fast as they’d burned down. But in order to stabilize the constantly sinking and flooded streets, the city built retaining walls on either side of First Avenue that were ten to thirty feet high. They filled the street with sand and gravel and then repaved it. The new shops and buildings found they needed entrances on the second and third floors in order to let people in from the street and new sidewalks bridged the gap above the underground city. <p>A civic activist in the middle of the 20th century known for his wit and for founding the popular tourist attraction once quipped that he could walk from King Street Station to Pike Place Market and never see the light of day. People joked that he would make the trip at night. But gazing into the pit that begins any reconstruction project in Seattle will quickly show that as much of a building on the western slope of the city will be underground as above ground. I was wondering if Patterson would ever emerge from beneath the city of Seattle. <p>My computer flashed with new video feeds and a message on the game boards. There was video of a couple emerging from the east side of First Avenue and crossing to enter an abandoned building on the west side near the Art Museum. Just 15 minutes ago. I motioned Andi into action as she drove down the hill to First and began to circle the block. That’s an impossible thing to do. First rises away from the water as it approaches the market and for eight blocks there are no streets that connect to Western and the Waterfront. <p>“Where are eyes on that area?” I demanded, even as I was routing the new images to the police. From the Harbor Steps to the Market, no one had brought a camera online on the West side of First Avenue. <p>“Everything in that quadrant has just gone dark,” Ford responded. “We’re working on a solution.” <p>The gameboard chimed and I dove into the alternate reality that my players were experiencing. <p>“We’re under attack! Every time a player moves, he’s knocked off the board. He’s pulling the plug on every camera in the area as fast as we can bring them online.” <p>“Philanthropia is chaos. Automated defense systems are activating across every street. We’re digging tunnels to get from one area to another.” <p>“Wherever he is, he’s got more computer power in his hands than we have combined.” <p>The reports from the game board showed people pulling out, reporting viral attacks, and crashes. Patterson knew we were searching in both physical space and cyberspace and he was hiding in both. But if he was launching attacks in cyberspace, I had to believe he was capable of launching them in the real world as well. <p>“We need to cordon off the waterfront so he can’t move west of Alaskan Way. If he gets out into the Sound, we won’t have a chance of finding him,” I told Andi. She pulled off of Spring onto Western and stopped to send text messages to the Faculty. They had called in friends as well and by now there were at least thirty cars prowling the area. Police were at the doors of the building on First and were going in. <p>My cell phone rang and Jen barked at me. <p>“We’re going mobile,” she said. “You’ll get the first live video feeds within two minutes. I’m already positioned at the south end of the Market looking over the back toward the Waterfront. Ford is managing the feeds from the office.” By the time she finished speaking, my computer was lighting up with feeds as my team lined up on foot down the Harbor Steps and along Western. Andi and I continued to move north on Western as I scanned the screen and she scanned the street. <p>My tablet and my phone alerted me at the same time. I flipped open the phone as I scanned the new images I was receiving from the video feed. <p>“Hamar.” <p>“Dag, it’s not good. Coast Guard has just taken charge of the yacht and our police boat is headed in. The guy’s a maniac. The girl is dead. So is all his crew. He’s way off the deep end.” <p>“We’ve got a reading of body signatures going into a warehouse between Western and Alaskan Way. I’m following. We’ve got to stop him before he hurts Cali.” <p>“What do you mean, body signatures?” <p>“Part of my team is filling holes in the video with infrared lenses.” <p>“Someday you’ll have to tell me how you get access to so many toys. I’m on my way.” <p>I looked at the message at the bottom of the video feed coming in to me with the infrared images. “IGotUrBak.” <p>“And I’ve got your ass,” I whispered. “But that’s for tomorrow.” <p align="center">*** <p>I tried to get Andi to wait with the car, but there was grim determination in her face as we moved toward the warehouse. Her only words were a whispered, “She’s my baby.” She clutched my hand as we found the entrance and went in. I could hear sirens wailing in from the south, but they’d been going on and off all night. The security chain on the door had been broken and we pushed the door open. There was no light, but I used an LED on my keychain to cast a ghostly blue light out ahead of us—just enough not to stumble and fall over anything in our path. <p>At this part of Western, the street was higher than Alaskan Way, so we were two stories above the back of the building with another two above us. I bet on his moving down toward the back with a planned escape out toward the Marina. We signaled everyone to close in on the west side of the building. He was being surrounded. I got a triumphant cheer from the gamers as the entire area lit up with video feeds again. They’d neutralized him in cyberspace. In my mind, that doubled the danger in real life. <p>The building codes might have required masonry and steel construction, but once inside the warehouse, huge wooden pillars supported wooden floors on which were stacked crates and crates of unknown merchandise for an import/export company. We made our way down a stairway flashing the weak beam left and right and listening intently. I was surprised to find that once we’d reached the ground floor on the west side of the building, the stairs continued downward. This building was built below sea level. We’d seen and heard nothing since entering the building and both of us were sweating, our palms slippery where we held each other. <p>The scream from below us almost knocked us off our feet. We hit the last flight of stairs running and slid to a halt, faced with a sudden wall of fire. Across the warehouse floor, Cali was tied to one of the massive wooden pillars. I automatically hit 911 on my cell as we skirted the flames and ran to her. <p>Her face was bruised and her hands and ankles were duct taped to the pillar. I pulled out my pen knife and began sawing through the sticky mess while Andi comforted her daughter and checked for other injuries. Cali was in shock, staring fixedly at the fire as it progressed toward us while I stripped tape off her arms leaving huge red welts where it had stuck to her. The smoke was getting dense and I could barely see the stairs across the warehouse. When she was finally free of the pillar, she slumped to the floor. <p>The fire was spreading fast through the dry wooden crates and packing material that acted like kindling. Boxes were exploding from the inside as the heat outside increased. There was no time to waste. I scooped the girl up in my arms and we ran for the stairs. We were only two flights up to the lower ground level and we rushed across the floor, already feeling the wood heating up beneath our feet. We were running through a tinderbox. But the doors on this side of the building were all chained shut. <p>Damn! This had to be illegal. There has to be an emergency exit. But every access we found was padlocked and chained. We had no tools to break them. We sprinted to the stairs again, seeing flames shooting up the freight elevator next to them. Something exploded to our right and suddenly this floor was engulfed in flame. Andi pushed me from behind as I carried Cali up the stairs. We’d made the first landing and I turned to launch myself up the next flight when another explosion ripped the stairs from beneath my feet. As I fell forward, I pushed—no… threw—Cali to the landing in front of me as the stairs gave way. I heard a scream behind me and dragged my body up to the landing with my hands. I turned to see Andi, still on the landing—trapped against the wall, the steps between us collapsed. <p>We locked eyes for a terrified moment. I reached out to her, but the gap was just too wide to touch. I had only the wagging stair railing to hang on to as I leaned over the inferno. Then she screamed at me. <p>“Save my baby! Please Dag. Save Cali!” <p>I was choking on the smoke and my own tears as I mouthed to her “I love you.” I saw her return the motion as I threw Cali over my shoulder and charged up the remaining two flights to the Western Avenue floor and crashed through the doors. <p>A fire truck had just pulled up and I rushed a firefighter in full gear and dropped Cali into his arms. Before he could react, I picked up his axe, turned, and dove back into the burning building. Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-55845182315459800972011-05-02T23:48:00.000-07:002011-11-28T08:48:52.692-08:00Hold Enough—Part 1<blockquote> <p><em>Lay on, Macduff,<br>And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'<br>—Macbeth V. vii</em></p></blockquote> <p>As soon as I could confirm that Andi was okay with Cali, I headed to my apartment. I was on a mission. I knew now that Mel had been snatched from the street by someone who knew where she would be and when. I knew that there was more than one person involved. And I knew that Mel’s time could be up already. <p>I launched all computers and dove directly into my previous searches. One of these bastards had to be Patterson or involved with him. Whom had Mel told she would be downtown on Thursday morning. Who was waiting for her? And where had she been taken? I received an amber alert notice on my cell phone as I was just diving in. Jordan’s timing was perfect. <p>I started scanning the neighborhoods where I’d posted notices and the email that had come in as a result. Each notice I’d posted had been vandalized. A big stamp reading “Cancelled” defaced each bulletin. I ran through the 250-some email responses I’d received since posting the notices and finally came to the one I feared. <p>“Too bad. She was such a filthy slut. Maybe you’d work harder if it was a nice girl who was closer to you.” <p>I called Andi but got no response. I’d been digging for over two hours since I left her and Cali. She must have turned the phones off so they could have peace while they slept and recovered. I left a message and went back to work. I didn’t want Cali out of sight. <p>With the number of cameras in downtown Seattle, the obvious next step was to try to track where they had gone after the bus tunnel; and bus tunnels had 24-hour camera surveillance. I tapped into the Metro site and started worming my way inside. I’m pretty cautious about breaking and entering when it’s a site owned by the government or a government agency. Metro was a county agency and as a result I had to fight my way through a whole different set of protocols than those for the city government. I ended up using a crude hack to get to the video feed from KC Metro. From there, I had to search back through archives to find the date and time of the kidnapping. It was tedious work and I was already wishing I had more coffee. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept, but my eyes kept closing on me. <p>When I finally found recordings of the right tunnel and the right time, I kept replaying them and rechecking the time. <p>There was nothing on the tape that showed Mel entering the bus tunnel. <p align="center">*** <p>My options were running low. I opened my curtains and saw that it was dark outside. How long had I been at this, vacillating between intense concentration and sleep? I needed more coffee, and I needed more information. Why was Cali downtown with Mel when both girls should have been in school? Why hadn’t Cali been missed? <p>I grabbed my tablet and crossed the alley to see Andi and Cali. I knocked lightly on the door, realizing it was already past ten o’clock and they could be sound asleep. A few seconds later, the porch light came on and Andi opened the door. She looked drowsy and fell into my arms as she pulled me through the open door. <p>“What a day,” she sighed. “I fell asleep in front of the TV.” <p>“How’s Cali?” <p>“She slept most of the day. I haven’t heard her stirring yet. I should get her some food.” <p>“The poor kid.” <p>“She thinks it’s her fault because she was with Mel. She didn’t want to tell anyone because she was supposed to be in class. Then with Olivia blaming her for Mel running away, she’s just been a wreck.” <p>“Why wasn’t her school absence reported?” <p>“She leaves high school after second period and goes over to the college for the Running Start program. College professors don’t report attendance.” <p>“What were they doing downtown?” <p>“Something about the prom. Mel kept telling Cali she had a surprise for her. Cali ended up believing the surprise was that Mel was running away. Everyone was so dead sure she was a runaway that Cali believed it, too. What a mess.” <p>“Did anyone contact Olivia and James?” <p>“I called them right away, but while I was on the phone, the police arrived and they kind of freaked out and hung up.” <p>“I’d like to ask Cali some questions if you think she can handle it. The police are moving, but they don’t have all they need yet.” <p>“I’ll go see if she can wake up enough to talk and eat something. She didn’t even finish lunch.” Andi went upstairs and I stepped into the kitchen. It wasn’t like Andi to have left the food and dishes from the meal on the table, but there they were. I started cleaning up the mess we’d left and wrapped the remaining bread—already turning crusty—in a plastic bag. I heard Andi moving from place to place down the hall and then she burst back into the kitchen looking panicked. “She’s gone!” <p align="center">*** <p>“Jordan, we need help. It looks like Cali has gone to try to find Mel. Andi had her cell phone off so they could sleep this afternoon, but when she turned it back on there was a text from Cali that said, ‘Got a text. Going to help Mel.’ I don’t think Mel sent any text messages. Her parents cancelled her cell phone the day she went missing.” <p>“I’ll subpoena the phone records,” Jordan said, “but I can’t get into town to help you. I’ll put out an APB and an amber alert. As soon as I’ve got a search coordinator, I’ll forward the name and number to you. We’re getting ready to board Patterson’s yacht out in the Sound. I’m half a mile off-shore.” <p>“I’m going after her. I think I know where to start, at least. The correlation of the other missing kids over the past five years have all been going downtown sometime close to the last time they were seen. We’re starting at University Street Station.” <p>“There will be uniforms in the area. I’ll let them know to watch for you. Keep your phone live so we can reach you and let me know what you see. Don’t try to make a capture. Let the police do their job.” <p>“It’s not a job to me, Jordan. It’s Cali.” <p>I disconnected and grabbed Andi by the hand. She already had her jacket on and we went to her car to go downtown. While Andi drove, I tapped into the gaming community. This wasn’t the game I intended to play tonight, but it was much more important than tracking down a credit card thief. Still, the CCS team could be useful. I sent the message via my office email. Even though I wasn’t using a tapped keyboard, I was sure my email would be monitored. Just to make doubly sure, I cc’d everyone on my team. <p>“Eyes on Seattle. Find the Kidnapper. Starting Now! It’s not a game. Big reward!” I attached the video of the original kidnapping, a photo of Cali, and estimated time she went missing. She had an hour’s head start. <p>I desperately hoped we weren’t too late already. <p align="center">*** <p>Andi drove down Third as we scanned the area hoping we’d see Cali on a street corner. You can’t get in or out of some of the garages down here after 11:00, so we didn’t try to park. By the time we stopped at Madison, 40 players had registered and were receiving data files from me for tapping into the city’s many cameras. I just didn’t have time to waste on bastards who weren’t playing my game, so I heightened my online defenses. I was here to find Cali and I needed every single one of these dweebs to help me do it. I started keying instructions into the tablet calling for maps of the city and camera angles on the bus tunnel entrance. <p>My cell phone chimed a text message and I read “Amber Alert: Cali is missing. We need help searching downtown.” <p>“Did you just text me?” I asked. <p>“I sent a message to the Faculty Lounge list.” <p>“Good thinking. I’ve got online help, but we need feet on the street. We can use all the help we can get.” I heard her phone start buzzing with incoming messages as one by one our friends told her they were on the way. “No word from Cali yet?” <p>“No answer on her phone and to response to the text messages,” Andi said. Tears were running down her cheeks. She shook her head and turned the car onto Columbia and then raced up First to Pike and looped around on Second. My gamers started reporting in with images from cameras located in every conceivable place—garage entrances, bus stops, traffic cameras, banks. The number of feeds was overwhelming, and the fact that I was controlling four on-line computers in my home and office remotely didn’t help. The first images, of course, came from the CCS external camera recording from the past hour. It began running at 4X speed, streaming images of a mostly empty street. I had a thought and contacted a gamer I knew from past experience to be a good strategic thinker. <p>“I don’t know how, but I think the kidnapper operates from these coordinates,” I said in my message. I fed him a package of data that included the IP address of Philanthropia and the path I’d used to track him down. “He’s egotistical enough to think he could be online while we do an IRL search. Here are some known aliases. See if you can track him.” I got a grin in response and saw a team of players peel off into Philanthropia. <p>Then I got an alert that chilled me. In the images playing on my screen I could clearly see Cali standing outside the bus tunnel entrance. The timestamp showed 9:50 p.m. Three minutes later, a man emerged directly behind her and dragged her back toward the tunnel with his hand over her mouth. This time the image was clear. <p>I immediately forwarded the clip to Jordan and got confirmation a minute later that an update to the amber alert had been issued sealing off ferry and train traffic. The image had been forwarded to bus drivers, taxi drivers, and local media. “I need eyes in the tunnel at all stops starting at 9:50. Move outward from the tunnel in one block increments. I want every live camera in Seattle raided.” <p>A gamer message flashed on my screen. “Is that John Patterson?” I replied in the affirmative and received a skull and crossbones emoticon. The gamers were going to be pissed. <p align="center">***</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-26531555890332707432011-05-02T12:48:00.000-07:002011-11-27T11:48:43.147-08:00Hired<blockquote> <p><em>I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms<br>Are hired to bear their staves:<br>—Macbeth V. vii</em></p></blockquote> <p>I sat in a food court a block away from the office drinking black coffee and setting up my plan of attack. Someone with access to the company security cameras had set me up by editing footage from security cameras to show me making a midnight raid on the manufacturing facility. That someone had made the mistake of capturing footage from my incident in front of the building and posting it on a video sharing site. It was as if I was being taunted. If I could triangulate on the two events and the missing ten seconds of network logs, I was pretty sure I would find my antagonist inside CCS. I set up my laptop with a 4G connection and logged onto the company network. <p align="center">*** <p>The path led me through a dusty attic in the CCS archives. The camera system was an early model that came out nearly 20 years ago. The company had made minor additions and modifications to the system over the years, improving their archiving system and transferring data to the cloud. Occasionally they replaced or added cameras but it was essentially the same system they started with. In fact, I discovered many of the company’s systems were dated. The network technology, managed by Don Abrams and Allen Yarborough, was state of the art. On the other hand, accounting systems that were set up when the company was founded were essentially unchanged, the biggest advances being updates to current software versions. <p>My usual method is to scan through huge amounts of data very quickly, looking for anomalies and inconsistencies as much in the form of the data as in the actual numbers and names. But as I strolled through this dusty archive with neatly labeled boxes stacked in rows that no one would ever touch, I was struck by a uniform feature rather than an anomaly. One name kept appearing on the records of every significant development and installation in the company for decades. An employee number that was mostly zeroes. <p>In a row of file boxes that had not been touched in years, I saw one box that had no dust on it. It slid smoothly out of the storage cabinet as though it had been used every day. Inside were automated transactions that hadn’t changed since the company was founded. But the account numbers changed on a regular basis. <p>Whenever a person gets a new credit card, the first thing they need to do is to activate it. The process works differently for nearly every company issuing a card. It can be as simple as flipping a switch that makes the account active and able to accept transactions. CCS was using an antiquated system of processing a micro transaction on the account. When the customer called the activation line, a randomly generated transaction of between ten and twenty cents was charged to the account, verified, and then reversed. The charge never appeared on a statement to the customer, so it was invisible to questioning eyes. <p>I verified that the accounts were being charged and saw a string of merchant accounts that accepted the transactions, immediately depositing the money at one of a dozen different banks. Over the years, the depositories had changed, many due to banks that merged or that went under during the economic collapse. But the company kept depositing funds to the merchant accounts. <p>The reversals, however, did not charge those merchant accounts. The funds were deducted from an expense line under the activation system that was so small it would never undergo scrutiny. That meant someone was collecting the money from the micro transactions—a few cents at a time. <p>After I placed a tracer on the files so I would be informed whenever someone touched them, I did some quick calculations. The company activated over 100,000 cards a month. At a fifteen cents per transaction, that came out to $15,000. Over 20 years, the yield would be nearly four million dollars. Someone with great patience had put together a nice little retirement fund. I had to admire the long-term planning involved. It wasn’t overly greedy. In fact, I was pretty sure the executives of the company took more in bonuses and stock than this each year. <p>Bonuses and stock that a lower level employee would never see. <p align="center">*** <p>“Jen, this is Dag.” <p>“Good morning. How are you feeling?” <p>“My head hurts, but it doesn’t look like there’ll be any long-term damage.” <p>“That’s good to hear. When can we expect to see you in the office.” <p>“Jen, how long have you been with the company?” As far as I was concerned I wasn’t planning to come into the office again, but she didn’t need to know that yet. <p>“Eighteen months. Why?” <p>“When did you put together the team?” <p>“That was my assignment when I was hired.” <p>“Always the same team members?” <p>“We’ve had a little change in the past year, but pretty stable—only the best and brightest.” <p>“What is the most significant project the team had executed before I came on board?” There was silence at the other end. For a minute, I thought Jen had just disconnected instead of answering me, but I waited. <p>“You know, don’t you, Dag?” There was another pause as she tried to outwait me. I’d figured it out, but I needed to hear it. So far I was just making assumptions. I heard a door close and then Jen spoke lowly and rapidly. “The team was put together to assess and expand the company’s ability to respond to a cyber attack. It was to focus on rapidly identifying and neutralizing a new threat. You were invited onto the team to provide a target. You’d be let loose inside the firewall and the team would track and neutralize any attempt you made to access data. Whatever Arnie hired you to do undercover was just a ploy to get you to search through every possible sensitive point in the system. You were to be the threat and we were to stop your investigation. It turned out you were slipperier than we anticipated and the teams efficiency has risen 30% since you arrived. I’m sorry, Dag. It wasn’t personal. No one knew who you were. It was just a lucky draw that Arnie hired you instead of some other hacker.” <p>That hurt. He hadn’t even chosen me because I was the best hacker to test his team. It had been random. Just someone he hired and gave the keys to the kingdom to in order to test his response team’s power and flexibility. Only it had backfired. Someone on the inside really was robbing the company. <p>“You’ve been had, Jen,” I said. “Tell the team you don’t think I’m out of the game yet. In fact, I’m sending you a file that suggests that I’m still in the system even though I’m not in the office. They should stay alert for what I do next.” I sent her the login information for six smartcards that I’d received from my bug on the manufacturing facility. That would expand their target awareness and give them more to look out for, even though I had no intention of using any of them again. <p>There is a longstanding principle regarding the control of mass behavior, explored in social studies, politics, and philosophy. The best way to hide a real internal threat is to focus on or create an imaginary external threat. Hitler managed it brilliantly. Bush managed it somewhat less successfully, but well enough to send the country to war for more than a decade. Countless other politicians and business leaders had managed it. Launch the rumor of a takeover bid from a rival company and watch the deflated stock value rise long enough to cover a cash shortfall that can’t be explained. Fabricate an external threat to rally the troupes around and you will get them to ignore a very real internal danger. It’s what Lars was teaching us in our Navy intelligence drill. You could even avoid—or start—a revolution. CCS was focusing its top talent in the company on stopping an imaginary external threat as a ruse to keep them from discovering a very real problem inside. I needed just a few more bits of data to tie it all together, and I began writing a routine that would help me tag and identify the controller. I would need to lure the team back into an engagement, but I already knew who the target was. <p align="center">*** <p>I packed up my computer and headed back to Capitol Hill just before noon. I’d transferred my virus into the system where it would lie dormant until one of several key phrases was appeared in the network. I’d do it tonight and tomorrow this little game would be over. <p>I arrived at Andi’s house right at noon and was greeted like the long-lost. I could smell a delicious aroma as I went into the house. <p>“What is that wonderful smell?” I said. <p>“Homemade bread,” Andi responded. She placed a long sensuous kiss on my lips, then whispered in my ear. “Before we go in, please take this.” She handed me a thick brown envelope. “It’s all the material I’m going to give to Cali. I’d like you to look it over and help me make sure it… Well, that it won’t hurt her. Now that I’ve decided to tell her, I’m nervous. I don’t want her to think any of this was her fault.” I took the envelope and slid it into my backpack. I kissed her again. <p>“I’m so in love with you, Andi. I’ll look at the stuff, but when it comes down to it, it’s because Cali loves you and you love her that it will all work out. Don’t worry darling.” <p>We walked into the kitchen in time to see Cali stuff a piece of bread that was mostly butter into her mouth. <p>“Mmmgh!” she choked out as she drank a huge glass of milk. “It’s so good!” <p>“Don’t eat it all before the soup is on the table,” Andi laughed. <p>“You guys were out there snogging so long that I couldn’t help myself,” Cali teased, licking her fingers. <p>Andi handed me a slice of the still-warm bread and I smeared it with butter. I took a big bite. <p>“Oh, this is good! Why do we need soup?” <p>“You’ll like this, I promise.” We sat at the kitchen table and Andi put a big bowl of incredible chicken soup on the table in front of each of us. I took a taste of the soup and realized this was not the kind of soup that comes from a can. I also realized how long it had been since I last ate. “Wow! The soup is great. I haven’t had homemade food this good in as long as I can remember.” <p>“Oh, it’s just leftovers.” <p>“Leftovers? You eat like this all the time?” <p>“No. I cooked a big batch of soup and fresh bread a few nights ago when I thought I was going to have company. When he didn’t show, I just put the soup in the refrigerator.” She looked at me and smiled sweetly. It dawned on me what she was saying. This was the meal I missed while I was locked in the manufacturing room. I hung my head sheepishly. <p>“Mea culpa,” I moaned. <p>“Going out for a week and he stands her up the first opportunity he has,” Cali smirked. <p>“It was unavoidable,” I tried to explain. <p>“Yeah, you were all tied up. How are you going to make it up?” I thought for a minute then came up with an idea. <p>“How about some entertainment?” I asked, grabbing my backpack. <p>“You sing, dance, or act?” Cali asked. <p>“No. You’re the triple threat. I’m just superman,” I laughed. “This is all over the Internet. You’ve got to see it, but don’t tell anyone you know who it is. Secret identity and all that.” I opened my laptop and loaded the video clip I’d saved. Then I turned it toward Andi and Cali. “Just watch this.” The video played. <p>“That’s unbelievable,” Andi said. “Play it again. It goes so fast!” I ran the clip again. “Again,” Andi said. I glanced up as the video played my 30 seconds of glory for a third time. Cali was staring, open-mouthed at the screen and was scooting her chair back away from the table. Tears were springing to her eyes. She started gasping and I thought at first she was choking on something. I backed my chair away from the table. <p>“Cali!” Her chair toppled back behind her as her hands came to her face and a long mournful wail escaped from her lips. Andi turned to her daughter and reached for her but I caught her as she fainted away at the table. Andi grabbed a glass of water as I carried the child to Andi’s bedroom and laid her on the bed. In a moment, Cali had her eyes open and was spluttering on the water. Her eyes were still filled with tears and she was hyperventilating. <p>“I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m so sorry! Oh my God! I’m so sorry. What have I done? I didn’t mean to.” Andi wrapped her arms around her daughter and rocked her back and forth as she sobbed and repeated over and over again how sorry she was. This couldn’t have been about knocking the chair over. Cali was sweating and her hair was hanging in clumps, stuck to her face by the sweat and tears. Heart-rending sobs broke from her lungs. <p>“It’s okay, Cali,” Andi soothed. “It’s okay Sweety. Tell Mommy what it’s all about.” I stood next to the bed with my hand resting lightly on Andi’s shoulder, unable to understand anything that was going on. Was life with a teenaged daughter always like this? <p>“Mel! I’m sorry! Mel! Mel!” Cali wailed. <p>“What is it, Cali?” Andi asked in exasperation. <p>Cali started to thrash around on the bed and we soon realized she was trying to get up. She couldn’t express herself verbally through the continuing sobs. In seconds she had led us back to the kitchen table and started the video playing again. She pointed at the video but instead of the action that had captivated me when I’d first seen the movie and that Andi had asked to have replayed repeatedly, Cali was pointing to action happening in the background, nearly half a block away from the accident. It went by too quickly for me to see the first time and I replayed it at a slower speed while Cali continued to point and moaned “Mel!” <p>Andi and I saw what she was pointing at simultaneously and both of us gasped. There, half a block from where I was being a superhero, Cali and Mel were walking up the street. Like everyone else, when the action happened in the foreground, Cali and Mel started to run forward, but just before the clip ended, we could see Mel peel off away into the entrance to the bus tunnel. She was not alone. <p>A man had wrapped an arm around Mel’s shoulders and was guiding her away. <p>“He took her!” Cali screamed. <p align="center">*** <p>While Andi calmed and comforted Cali, I went back to the computer. I’d already forwarded the link to the police as part of the bus accident investigation, but then I’d broken into security at CCS and downloaded the full length of the video including several minutes before and after the thirty seconds that were posted. I opened the file and began examining it frame-by-frame. When I looked at the full video earlier, I was focused entirely on the foreground, following my own progress up the street. I’d seen the man step out from behind a pillar directly behind his victim and just when the couple turned their heads away from each other, push the young woman into the street. I was sure the police would be able to subpoena the full clip and have legal evidence to find and convict the man. But I hadn’t paid attention to what was happening in the background. <p>I saw Cali and Mel emerge from a shop up the street. The camera’s focal length is not the greatest for items in the distance, but after Cali had identified herself and Mel, I could pick them out on the grainy film. The timing was incredible. Just as the man in the foreground stepped out from behind a pillar, a man also stepped out of a doorway behind Cali and Mel. While the video was silent, I could tell exactly when the bus breaks squealed. The attention of everyone on the street shifted to the accident. People started to run toward the bus, including Cali and Mel. But Mel only moved one step when the man behind her swung his hand across her mouth, moved her into the bus tunnel entrance and disappeared. <p>Before the scene had played out, I was on the phone to Jordan. <p>“You’re keeping me busy, Dag. What is it?” he answered the phone. <p>“We’ve got a kidnapping that was reported as a runaway and I have strong evidence that it involves Patterson.” I sent the full video to Jordan as we talked. He had another phone at his ear calling in the Seattle kidnapping task force. They would have video experts on it in no time to enhance the images. There was no question in my mind. The man behind Mel had clapped his hand over her mouth and maneuvered her out of the street while the accident was being staged. It was a coordinated effort. But what caught my attention, now as I was focused on the background, was where Mel’s kidnapper had emerged. <p>All along Third there are a mix of old and new structures. Many of the old ones have businesses at street level—a deli, a brokerage, a travel agent—and offices above. The door from which the kidnapper emerged was the building that housed Patterson Foundation.</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-5532476030740818662011-05-02T10:12:00.000-07:002011-11-26T09:12:36.067-08:00Clamorous Harbingers<blockquote> <p><em>Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,<br>Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.<br>—Macbeth V.vi</em></p></blockquote> <p>About 11:30, Andi slipped out of bed and started feeling around for her clothes. I turned on a bedside light and just watched her beautiful body as she gathered her things together. <p>“Do you have to leave?” <p>“Curfew,” she said. “What’s fair for the daughter is fair for the…” <p>“The mom,” I finished. “In every sense of the word except biological you are her mother and will always be.” <p>“Yes. But I’ll have to tell her now. Soon.” I slid out of bed and stood with her in the tiny pool of light. I helped her on with her clothes. It was a lot more difficult than helping her off with them. I finally gave up as we laughed over tangled underwear and then began pulling my own clothes on. “You don’t need to get up.” <p>“What would your daughter think if your boyfriend didn’t even walk you home after a hot date? Besides, that gives me five more minutes with you.” We left my apartment and went down the back stairs across the alley from her front door. She unlocked her door and turned to kiss me goodnight when the hall lights came on. <p>“Well, you’re finally home,” Cali said from inside. She came down the hall wearing Andi’s plush robe and fuzzy slippers with her hair in curlers. “I guess I can go to bed now that I know you’re safe.” It took us a moment and then all three of us broke up. <p>“You don’t really wait up for her like that, do you?” I asked Andi. <p>“Not like that! What would her date think if he saw her mother looking like that?” <p>“Well, maybe I overdid it with the curlers,” Cali laughed. “Anyway, I’m going to bed now so you two can kiss goodnight. Just don’t stand out there on the porch where all the neighbors can see you.” <p>“’Night Cali.” <p>“’Night. Love you Mom. Love you Dag.” She kissed each of us on the cheek and went back down the hall. I stepped in far enough that I wasn’t on the porch, but we kept the door open. <p>“See? That was much more effective than if you had come home alone. She’d have been so disappointed.” <p>“I think she likes you.” <p>“I’m glad. I intend to be around for a long time.” <p>“I love you, Dag.” We kissed. <p>“You are my heart’s desire, Andi.” I looked at her for a long moment and then retraced my steps back to my apartment. <p align="center">*** <p>Five hours before I was so exhausted I couldn’t keep my eyes open. After an evening spent in the arms of my lover, I was so energized I could scarcely sit. I had work to do. My little girl’s friend was missing. My girlfriend’s little girl. I corrected myself, then proceeded to ignore my internal correction. I needed to find Mel. <p>There were 4,173 correlations that my search and compare algorithms had revealed. That sounded like a lot, but when compared to the 15 million results a standard Google search yields, it seemed manageable. I plunged into the life of a rebellious teen and was sucked into the slimy dregs of America. <p>It was a neighborhood—if you could call it that—in which bright neon lit up a thousand doorways with promises that paled against the reality inside. Crossing any threshold could result in loss of money, reputation, or civil liberty. I could defend myself against the threats of these commercial venues. It wasn’t that I could walk with impunity anywhere I chose, but I was well-protected. It took more than a casual touch cripple me. <p>More dangerous were the darkened alleys between various strip shows and sex shops. Drugs, guns, sex in every variety were offered by people with no front-door presence. Unwilling organ donors wailed in the distance as their bloody body parts were offered to the highest bidder. And as ineffectual as policing the district was, any alley could hide a cop where drunk patrons were arrested for the very suggestion of a solicitation for in illegal act. <p>I had new leads to follow up and now that I was in Neverland, I track them down. I started by entering a reverse phone booth and feeding the list of numbers into the device. In minutes it started feeding back a list of names, addresses, marital status, spouses, children, and even a history of where each man had lived for the past thirty years. There were a few people smart enough to use an Internet phone service that yielded less ready information, but the vast majority had solicited favors from a fifteen-to-seventeen year old girl using their personal cell phones. The world was filled with the illusion of privacy. <p>I focused on the numbers in the same area code and when I had addresses, I narrowed my search to those who were within the residential and business community of downtown Seattle. I walked through their neighborhoods tacking up posters where their friends and neighbors could see them with a picture of Mel and the message “This 17-year-old girl is missing. Reward for information.” I used my own Internet phone number, a message collection service that I book for a month at a time. I included an email address routed through one of the adult services websites. I didn’t expect any of the men on my list to respond. As soon as they realized the woman they’d solicited was a minor, they’d flee the sites where they met her. But it was always possible that someone else in their more respectable neighborhood might have spotted her, especially if she’d been seen with one of their neighbors. <p>I put up posters around her school community and the various sports groups she participated with. It was always possible that her disappearance had nothing to do with her activities on the adult forums and I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I even posted at her church. Somehow, I didn’t think her parents were the type who would alert their critical-thinking religious community about their wayward daughter. They’d be surprised, but there really wasn’t anything they could do about it. <p>And finally, I contacted her cellular system. Her parents had disconnected her cell phone. I wanted to know the instant it was reconnected or reassigned. That took some tricky hacking as the big cell systems don’t freely give out that information. I had to settle for attaching a flag to her phone number so that it would notify me if a call was made in or out. <p>In the old days, detectives did this footwork literally on foot. By sunrise, I’d covered more virtual territory than Sam Spade could have imagined existed. I’d posted notices on the message boards of every “friend” Mel had on the Internet as far as I could tell. There was no question in my mind that she could run away and hide if she truly wanted to, but if she had been taken, she would become a hot property pretty quickly. <p>My email started lighting up at about seven o’clock with messages. Most were innocuous ping-backs, testing my spam filters. Nothing related directly to Mel’s disappearance. I started seeing one message appear from several directions at once. At first I thought it was one of those phishing schemes that start off “I couldn’t believe it was you in this video. ROFLMAO.” Usually those were followed by a link to a porn video that demanded an account password in order to view the footage. But this link kept appearing with a caption that began trending on some of the popular sites. “Unsung superhero rescues woman. You won’t believe this guy!” The link led to a legitimate video sharing site and when I finally decided to follow it, I was stunned. <p>The video clip of less than 30 seconds, showed an oncoming bus, a woman being pushed into the street, and a guy jumping out to catch her and swing her to safety before the bus mirror hit him in the head. It showed me on Thursday morning. <p align="center">*** <p>I was still in my jeans and sweater with a Gore-Tex jacket and a baseball cap protecting my eyes from the morning rain as I swung off the bus at Third and Union. I’d watched the video a dozen times—maybe twenty. I still couldn’t figure out how I’d moved the way I did or what had alerted me to the fact that there was a danger just behind me. Granted the video compression had certainly dropped some frames from real time, but even slowing it down, most of the action was blurred. <p>But one thing was clear: There was a fourth person involved in the incident. <p>I hadn’t been following the case closely. I knew that if it came to trial, I’d be called as a witness. I would be unable to provide any details because the action of pushing her off the sidewalk occurred behind me. She had accused her boyfriend and he had been arrested and was out on bail with a restraining order against being within fifty feet of her. The video showed that it clearly wasn’t the boyfriend who pushed her, but it didn’t show a clear image of the person who had. <p>I forwarded the link to the police detective in charge of the case, pointing out that the video cleared both the boyfriend and me. It was clear that the squabbling couple had turned their heads away from each other—her toward the street and he toward the sidewalk—when a person directly behind the couple pushed her. The boyfriend was too far away and facing away from his girlfriend to have been the one doing the pushing. He turned as I moved and the culprit had slid past on the right. The video ended before the perp had come fully into view, though. I needed to find the rest of that footage and in order to do that, I needed to know where the camera was that took it so I could request the rest of the sequence. <p>I was only half a block from the CCS office when I stopped to measure out where the accident had happened. As best I could tell, I was in the right place. I waited there, just listening and trying to put myself back in that space. I turned to see an approaching bus. <p>Damn! They move like hell down that street until they screech to a stop at the shelter in front of the office. It’s a wonder I wasn’t killed! I looked at the tail of the bus stopped to pick up passengers. That gave me a reference point. I pulled out my tablet and replayed the video, trying to reverse the perspective and look up at where the camera was. Yes. The perspective was from several feet above the sidewalk which confirmed my suspicion that it was not caught on a cell phone by someone at street level. <p>A few years ago when I was complaining to my cell phone carrier that I kept losing calls, I started observing where I had good service and where I didn’t. A little research showed me what a cellular tower looked like. I started looking around me when I had good service and gradually became aware of cell towers within my line of sight. They weren’t always towers. They were stuck to the sides of buildings downtown, on rooftops in the suburbs. Huge towers were located every few miles along the freeway. I suddenly started seeing cell towers everywhere. And when my service started to improve, I could almost always identify a new tower within sight. <p>The same was true now. As I looked up I spotted a black glass globe hanging from what would otherwise look like a street light. I recognized it for no other reason than the ceiling of a casino is peppered with the things. Each one contains a camera—some static and focused on a single table or game, some panning from side to side like the cameras inside CCS. This black globe hung off the wall of the CCS office building. As I looked down the block, I saw four more exterior cameras. I turned around in place. Jutting up off the nearest traffic signal was a white bar with a camera on top. In front of the bank, there was another series of cameras. At the entrance to a parking garage across the street, a camera was pointed at incoming autos. Even under the awnings of Benaroya Hall, there were security cameras. A camera across the street and fairly high on the building looked like it was pointed at the bus stop. A matching camera was positioned opposite. <p>I wasn’t sure there was anyplace I could walk downtown and not be caught on a security camera. <p>The one I wanted access to, though, was one I could actually get to. It was part of the CCS security system. <p align="center">*** <p>My phone buzzed as I was walking up the street holding my tablet in front of me recording the locations of the various cameras I saw on the built-in video recorder. The unique chime I set up told me it was Andi. <p>“Hello darling.” <p>“Ooo. I like hearing that.” <p>“I like saying it. Did you sleep well?” <p>“I’ve slept alone all my life. Why does it suddenly seem so lonely in my bed?” <p>“Mmmm. I’d love to take up residence in part of it.” <p>“You’d want to be in the same part as me, though.” <p>“That’s true enough.” <p>“Where are you?” <p>“I’m downtown at the office. I’ve got something really remarkable to show you.” <p>“Really? Sounds like a big break-through. Why don’t you come for lunch?” <p>“Lunch? Aren’t you teaching?” <p>“I completely forgot that today the college is closed for a symposium that’s occupying every corner of the campus. I have the day off, and Cali will be off after 10 since she only goes to high school for the first two periods and then goes to college on the Running Start program. Come on. How does lunch with your two favorite girls sound?” <p>“Absolutely wonderful! I can be there by 11:30. Is that okay?” <p>“Make it noon. Cali needs some supplies for a project she’s working on. We’re going out as soon as she gets home.” <p>“Great. I’ll see you at noon.” <p>“Oh Dag…” <p>“What is it Andi?” <p>“I love you.” <p>“You’ve suddenly become the light of my life.”</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-16177070584465739832011-05-01T21:27:00.000-07:002011-11-25T08:43:11.999-08:00The Queen<blockquote> <p><em>The Queen.<br>She should have died hereafter;<br>There would have been a time for such a word.<br>—Macbeth V.v</em></p></blockquote> <p>By a quarter till five I was wrung out. My software chimed and I looked to see that it had over 4,000 correlations. I groaned. I couldn’t face it now. I saved the results, shut down the computer, and lay down in my bed. I was asleep instantly. <p>And just as quickly awakened. <p>I glanced at my phone and saw that it was seven. It hadn’t felt like I’d been asleep for a minute. Then I realized there was a light knocking on my door. I groaned, but got up and went to answer it. <p>“I uh… well… um… I missed you,” Andi said as soon as I opened the door. Oh yes! I wrapped her in my arms and planted a kiss on her that told her how much I’d missed her as well. Noting that we were still in the doorway, I pulled her into the apartment with my lips still locked to hers. When the door shut behind us and she heard it click she pulled away from me and looked into my eyes, then, as if just becoming aware of her surroundings, she stared around her. “It’s black!” <p>Andi had never seen the inside of my apartment. Well, very few people had. Even when I had girlfriends, I never brought them here. I didn’t mind sharing it with Andi, though. My apartment is always clean. That’s not a problem. I only have 350 square feet and if I didn’t keep up with cleaning, before long I wouldn’t be able to move. It’s not like I have a lot of stuff to clutter the place up. I just never started buying stuff after I moved in here. I tried to imagine what it looked like through Andi’s eyes. <p>“They let you do this? The apartment management, I mean?” <p>“I had to pay an extra month’s damage deposit and promise to restore it to pristine white before I leave,” I said. “Eric helped me choose the materials.” <p>She moved around the little room, touching my desk, my bed, my chair. Each time she reached out her hand, I felt like she was exploring another part of my body. It wasn’t like everything was black. The kitchen, closet, and bathroom were still white. But I had four sets of heavy black drapes hung over the closet door, the kitchen archway, and both windows. With the bathroom door closed, you couldn’t see the white room. A shower curtain that Eric picked out for me had demure nudes in black against the white curtain. The drapes across the kitchen and closet doorways kept any light leaks from those rooms and the drapes over the two windows were floor to ceiling, so no ambient light leaked in from the street lights below. <p>“Do you mind that I came over?” <p>“Not at all. I was napping, but I’m suddenly wide awake. I kind of like showing you my room.” <p>“Would you like to see me naked in it?” she asked. I almost swallowed my tongue, but it was hers that was suddenly in my mouth. Our love-making was more relaxed than it had been the night before. We laughed more as we explored each other’s bodies. She traced a scar on my back I got when I’d fallen into a dumpster as a kid. I simply marveled at her pristine, beautiful body as I took each piece of clothing off of it. We were joyful and playful in our love-making and I wanted to please her in every way possible. <p>Nearly two hours later, we hugged each other in my bed, our sweaty bodies practically glued to each other. I was spooned behind her, still teasingly nibbling on her ear and whispering to her about how happy I was. <p>“Is it completely dark when you turn out the lights?” she asked. I’d left two lamps on low while we made love—each of us wanting to see the other. <p>“It can be.” <p>“Show me.” I flicked off the power strip under my desk and my computer equipment, stereo, and desk lamp all went out. I made sure the bathroom door was closed and all the drapes were sealed and then flicked out the lamp over the painting on my wall. I slipped back into the bed from the end and crawled up her body until we were spooned together once again. Then I pulled a black sheet up over us. Not only did the room get dark, but with all my electronics turned off, it was silent as well. <p>Even after our eyes had time to adjust to the darkness, we really couldn’t see anything. I could hear our breathing, synchronizing together so that we inhaled and exhaled at the same time. <p>“I can hear your heart,” she said softly. “It’s like being in a womb.” <p>“I was in a womb not long ago,” I laughed softly. <p>“Mmmm. Now we’re both tucked inside and we can’t see a thing. We can only feel each other’s presence and hear each other’s heartbeat for company.” <p>“Yes, but I smell the fresh citrus scent of your hair,” I whispered. “I feel your soft silky skin beneath my fingers.” <p>“I feel you poking me in the butt,” she giggled. She rolled in my embrace and after bumping foreheads and smashing our noses together, we managed to find each other’s mouth. I would never tire of kissing her. It erased everything else from my mind. She snuggled close to my chest and spoke so softly that even in the darkened room I almost missed what she said. <p>“Do you have any secrets, Dag?” <p>“I have things I don’t talk about. I deal with confidential information that I don’t share with anyone.” <p>“No. I mean things about you that you can’t tell anyone. Not someone else’s secret you won’t divulge.” <p>“Maybe. I haven’t always been as upstanding as I like to believe I should be. Sometimes, I do things that I think better of after the fact, but have no way to correct. I sometimes tell clients what I think they should hear rather than what they ask. I struggle with the ethics of confidential information, especially since I have an almost insatiable desire to find out everything about everything. I stick my nose into other people’s business and then regret knowing what I do. Sometimes maybe I stretch the boundaries of what is legal in finding out information.” We were quiet for a few minutes, almost dozing as we listened to the silence around us—relishing in the fact that our only sensory input was from one another. “Andi,” I whispered, “I will never keep a secret from you.” <p>Her face was buried against my chest and I could feel the area heating up. I was aware of the moisture between us and I wiped her tears away in the darkness. <p>“I have a secret,” she said. “A secret I’ve never told anyone.” I kept very still. This was not the time to ask questions. It was only a time to love unconditionally. “You know, don’t you? I knew that you would know one day. When I decided to let myself fall in love with you, I decided I would tell you, and I can’t go any longer without.” She was whispering to me as I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. I had figured out she wasn’t Andi Marx, but I didn’t care. <p>“You don’t have to tell me.” <p>“Yes, I do. I planned to tell Cali when she turns 18, but I know she suspects something and I can’t keep it from her.” I wasn’t prepared for what came next. Nothing could possibly have prepared me. <p>“Cali isn’t my daughter. She’s my sister.” <p align="center">*** <p>Once Andi started telling the story, a floodgate opened and more than seventeen years of living a secret life spilled forth. <p>“Our mother was only stupid in her choice of men. My father was a mean man who only showed up once every few months and for never more than a week or two at a time. From the time I can clearly remember, Mom would keep me hidden when he was there. I had a special room I went to with lots of books. She home schooled me, not because of any religious ideas, but because she didn’t trust anyone. I think she felt the authorities would try to take me away from her if they knew what a violent person my father was. <p>“When I was fifteen, nearly sixteen, Mom got pregnant again. Only it wasn’t my father’s child. He threw a fit the next time he came home, beat her up, and then swore he’d kill us all the next time he came home. <p>“I’ll never understand why she didn’t just take us and leave. She certainly knew how to do it. She knew where the shelters were and even how to change her identity. But instead, she took me away and we hid until the baby was born. She filled my head with how I knew more than any other girl my age, so I could be six years older and have my college diploma right now. She said I’d have to change my name, but one day she would come for Cali and me and we’d be safe again. She took Cali and me to a shelter for abused women and told them that my husband was dead, I’d just given birth, and I wasn’t safe from my father. She gave me a packet of documents that included birth certificates for Anne Doreen Marx and California Celeste Marx, a marriage certificate to Charles Marx, his death certificate, and an insurance policy. It also included my college diploma. I made up the whole story about Charles Marx and how he died after my college graduation. I read a story about it somewhere and just adopted it as my own. I don’t know where Mom got the name California, but Celeste was her name. I stayed in the shelter until I could find a job and then they helped me get day care for Cali while I worked and picked up more education credits to fill in the blanks of a college education that I’d never had. <p>“It was only a couple of months after I went to the shelter that my father killed Mom and then shot himself. Since they’d moved again recently, no one knew about me or Cali. I stayed away. It was almost a year later that I remembered the insurance policy in my packet of papers and called the agency. They said the funds were payable to a trust and they would be happy to have it signed over to me. It was for half a million dollars. <p>“Once the paperwork was finished, Cali and I moved to Washington. You see, I never made it out of Michigan before. I’ve never even been to Florida where my diploma says I graduated. I did get my teaching certificate once I got here and I was surprised at how easy it was for me get a job teaching high school kids who were almost the same age I was. While my students started college, I got my Master’s in Literature and Education and then got a big break when I got a job at the Community College and could lighten my schedule. With careful investing I was able to buy the duplex and pay most of the mortgage out of the rent. Cali and I have had a comfortable life for a single parent except…” <p>It seemed like her story had run its course and I was so dumbfound that I couldn’t speak. I just held my precious girl in my arms and smothered her with kisses and love. Eventually she rubbed her cheek against mine. <p>“Except I’d never let myself get close to a man because I was so afraid he’d find out and they would take Cali away from me. Until you.” <p>“I love you, Andi. I will never betray your secret. It’s really nobody’s business. You are the only mother Cali has ever known and she loves you.” <p>“I knew you would find out. It’s who you are. But I know I can trust you. I’ve been alone so long.” She was sobbing against my chest. Tears were flowing freely from my own eyes. My poor, precious girl. We rocked each other in our arms and maybe we even fell asleep for a bit when the weeping subsided. I would never let her go. <p>“What’s your real name, Andi?” I asked softly, not really sure if she was awake. <p>“Rachel Evans. And don’t worry. I did the math. I pass the half plus seven test.” <p>We laughed. Our laughter turned to more kissing and the kissing to more loving. There in the dark womb of my room we couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began. We shared one body and we came as one person.</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-21698788255348563832011-05-01T10:09:00.000-07:002011-11-24T10:10:36.772-08:00The Time Approaches<blockquote><p><em>The time approaches<br />
That will with due decision make us know<br />
What we shall say we have and what we owe.<br />
—Macbeth V.iv</em></p></blockquote><p>Two mountain ranges, back to back across the continent with a vast high desert between—a desolate wasteland or a fertile playground? When I awoke on Sunday morning facing a wall, I glanced over my shoulder and on the other side of the bed saw Andi, still asleep with her back toward me. I felt a pang of… regret? No. Guilt. I’d betrayed our friendship. I’d turned my best friend into my lover. My love. And now we each hugged opposite edges of the same bed with a cold chasm between. I could feel a sob welling up in my throat. <p>Then she turned toward me, her eyes opening a slit and then her smile causing them to crinkle up as she looked fully at me and I rolled toward the center of her bed. We met in the middle with arms wrapping around each other and a kiss that welcomed more than bodies together. <p>“Hello lover,” she whispered. <p>“Good morning, my love,” I answered softly. <p>“I’m not used to sleeping with someone else in my bed. Cali and I haven’t done it for so long, I’d forgotten how.” <p>“Shhh,” I said. “I think it’s something we’ll learn. I felt so alone when I woke up and wasn’t touching you.” <p>“Oh, Darling. Please let us never be alone like that again.” <p>Romance stories would have us immediately falling together in passionate sex—again—but they never seem to take into account basic needs of the body when it wakes up in the morning. I waited my turn and then used the bathroom after her, seeing the various cleansing products, hair products, and feminine products for the first time with my eyes fully open. I hadn’t seen a sight like that in a long time. When I returned, I was relieved to see that Andi hadn’t dressed and left the room. She sat in bed with a sheet pulled up to her chin, but when she saw me, she let it fall away from her. She took my breath away and the blood drained from the upper half of my body. Half faint, I stumbled back to the bed where she welcomed me into her arms and her body. <p align="center">*** <p>As we lay together in the afterglow we whispered softly. <p>“I could get used to this, you know?” <p>“To sex in the morning?” <p>“That. And to seeing your face when I wake up. To smelling your scent on my pillow. To seeing you come out of the bathroom. To you.” <p>“I’d like to get used to that. Andi, you know I’ve been married. You know I’ve had a live-in girlfriend. You know I’ve had little trysts. So tell me—why have I never felt this way before? Why have I never woken up in the morning thinking this is where I belong for the rest of my life? Darling, why has it taken me so long to find you?” <p>“I love you.” <p>“Oh and I do love you.” <p>There was a crash in the kitchen and a cupboard door slammed closed. Andi sat straight up in bed and my heart skipped several beats. <p>“Oh shit! Cali’s home,” Andi whispered. Before I could respond she pushed a finger against my lips and whispered “Stay!” She jumped out of bed, grabbed the plush robe and fuzzy slippers I saw her in only a few nights ago, and left the room. I didn’t try to listen in, but it was a small house and I couldn’t help but hear the conversation as I got up and quietly pulled on my clothes. <p>“Honey! I didn’t expect you home so early. Did you have a nice sleep-over?” Andi asked. I could imagine her going over to hug her daughter. <p>“Where did you stash our computer geek? Or did you push him out a window when you heard me?” <p>“Cali! What do you mean?” <p>“Mom, it’s okay. I know Dag was here all night.” <p>“And how would you know that, miss know-it-all?” <p>“All my life there’s never been a time when you didn’t hear me come in at night and say hi,” she answered. “Not in all my life have you not been up waiting when I came home.” <p>“Cali, I thought you spent the night at Alex’s house.” <p>“I couldn’t, Mom. It was really super-nice of Alex. I mean, they really wanted me to come, but I just couldn’t do it. I mean… I’m just not ready. After the strike party we all went to Denny’s and I asked her to drop me off before they went home.” <p>“But that would have been at…” <p>“About 1:00.” <p>“Oh dear.” <p>“Don’t worry, Mom. You were quiet. I went right to sleep.” I’d finished dressing and was debating whether to try to sneak past or just boldly go out and face the music with Andi. I could tell that I needed a shave. <p>“Honey… Please, Cali. Understand this. No matter what my relationship is with Dag, you are my daughter and I love you. First. Foremost. And Forever.” <p>“I know, Mom. I was going to make coffee for you, but I dropped the can.” <p>“We could all go to the Analog if it isn’t too early.” I decided that I could safely walk in now, but I stopped in the doorway as I saw them both on the floor sweeping up spilled coffee grounds. <p>“Mom, this is real isn’t it? I mean you aren’t just trying to prove something, are you?” <p>“Prove something? Like what?” <p>“Like, oh, that you aren’t gay.” I almost choked on my own tongue. I remembered my conversation in the car with Cali a week ago. <p>“What??!!” <p>“Um, never mind.” Cali saw me in the doorway with a smirk on my face shaking my head. I didn’t expect her to rush on with the next thing she said. “It’s just that you’ve never had a boyfriend before, Mom.” <p>“Well, it’s a little early to call him a boyfriend.” Cali looked straight at me. <p>“It’s a little late to deny it.” Andi followed her gaze and jumped half out of her robe when she saw me. <p>“Agh! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” <p>“I didn’t sneak,” I laughed. <p>“I turned around and you were just there.” <p>“I walked in from the next room.” I avoided saying the word bedroom. <p>“You didn’t make any noise,” Andi said, now giggling as she came to me and gave me a morning hug in front of her daughter. <p>“You want me to wear a bell?” I asked. All three of us started laughing. I don’t understand how a hundred and ten pound girl or her almost-as-petite mother can make so much noise just walking on carpet. I’m sure there were times I could feel the floor shake in my apartment on the third floor next door. <p>I caught Cali up in our hug as well and suggested we go have coffee at The Analog since there didn’t seem to be any to brew here. Andi went to change and Cali reached up to kiss my cheek. <p>“Don’t you ever, ever hurt her,” Cali whispered in my ear fiercely. I kissed the top of her head and she slipped out of my arms and followed her mother to the bedroom. She didn’t really whisper when she joined her mother, so I couldn’t help but overhear. In fact, I think Cali was speaking loudly enough for me to hear on purpose.” <p>“Mom. I think I owe you this.” <p>“What is that for?” <p>“Well, he paid me back for the tickets.” <p>“I guess you made a little spending money in the deal then, didn’t you.” They giggled. <p>Two devious women! I didn’t stand a chance! <p align="center">*** <p>I sat in my room with the drapes open—something I rarely did. Sunlight filtered through the needles of the giant sequoia outside my window. We’d had coffee as if we were one big happy family, but when we walked back it was obvious that Andi and I were not going to spend a lazy Sunday in bed reading the comics and making love. Cali was still hurting over the disappearance of Mel and that meant that I still had work to do. <p>I opened the log-on screen for Mel’s erotic forum account and entered CaliMel in the password box. A welcome screen flashed on the screen with the announcement that she had 273 email messages. I read two and decided I didn’t want to read any others. It still wasn’t obvious she was supplying any of these perverts with the things they were requesting, but what they were sending her was sickening. <p>I downloaded all her email and private messages to a database and then started sorting the results. Most frequent contacts. Most frequent phrase used. Most recent outgoing messages. Any clues that I could pull together. I needed to know first if Mel went willingly or if she was coerced, and then I could worry about where she was. <p>By two o’clock, I’d pulled the drapes closed. It was the first of May and while April had gone out like a lamb, May was proving to be a tiger already as the wind picked up and the morning sunshine turned to a threat of rain. But more than that, even living on the third floor I had a sense that I didn’t want anyone able to look over my shoulder through the window. The crap on my computer was leaving me sick to my stomach and my bruised and stitched-up head was throbbing. <p>I’d found nothing that overtly suggested a rendezvous or enticement away from home, but there were dozens that suggested where they would be if she happened to find herself in the vicinity. There were also her own updates that suggested her locations. They called them “check-ins.” “MayBeLegal just checked in at Jaqui’s Lingerie Boutique.” “MayBeLegal just checked in at The Rack.” I had news for these two or three thousand guys who followed her. MayBeLegal wasn’t. <p>I was dealing with a huge volume of information. The simple fact that every name on her site was an alias meant that identifying the voyeurs would be a project for more computing power than I could muster. But I wanted to find out who could possibly be an influence on her. It struck me that I was looking for Mel because she was missing. She wasn’t the only girl ever to go missing in Seattle. Unfortunately, less than half the missing persons in the country are actually reported because they are either not missed or family and friends assume they have left of their own accord. Of those who are reported, there is no coordinated effort to recover them unless foul play is suspected or the person is considered to be “vulnerable,” as in developmentally handicapped or a child. The assumption of vulnerability, however, is that the older the child is, the less vulnerable, so a 17-year-old runaway is not as high a priority as a 12-year-old missing person. Digging through the Internet for records of missing persons over the past five years was a painfully slow process and the results were limited. <p>It was part of a long-shot plan, though. I wanted to cross-check the names of all these girls against the list of Mel’s followers. I had no expectation of getting results, but I was running out of options. <p>Her last check-in had been at a Gelato shop on Third Avenue Thursday morning. As far as I could tell, that was the last record of her whereabouts. I could find no more recent posts, messages, or updates on any of her accounts. <p>While my search and compare software ran, I decided I’d have to try the inevitable. I called Mel’s parents. I’d met Olivia and James at a play a couple of years ago. It was one of Cali’s first leading lady roles and the entire Faculty Lounge had come to support her. We’d done the same kind of field trips to hear Sara and Sandy in concert, to watch Jan and Donna’s son in his college football debut, for an art showing, and other times. My meeting with Mel’s parents was brief and I felt they were a little stand-offish, but even that did not prepare me for my conversation with Olivia. <p>“I heard about Melissa’s disappearance,” I said, “and I’m calling to offer my assistance if you need anything. Have there been any developments?” <p>“What kind of developments would there be,” Olivia snapped. “She left. She walked right out on everything we’ve done for her. She’s done irreparable damage.” <p>“You don’t think there was anything suspicious about her disappearance? She wasn’t having any difficulties at school was she?” <p>“The school, where we all send our children thinking they will be watched over, told us that her attendance record showed she was there for her first two classes and didn’t show up for third period. They saw no reason to let us know about that until the police interviewed them. The police say she ran away. Well, if that’s all she cares about her family, then so be it.” <p>“Olivia, this must be very hard on you. Has she made any calls or sent any messages on her cell phone since she left?” <p>“We disconnected her phone. If she thinks she can just walk out and that we’ll continue to pay her expenses, she has another think coming. We cancelled her credit cards and put a stop on her bank account. She’s still a minor and without access to our money she can’t get far. She’ll come back when she finds out she can’t make it on her own, and when she comes home she’ll be grounded until she’s thirty. We never should have given her so much freedom.” <p>I couldn’t help but think that maybe if they had given her a little freedom, she wouldn’t have felt such a pressing need to rebel or to get free. It certainly sounded like Olivia and James believed she’d run away and they weren’t about to offer any other suggestions. I made one last attempt at expressing my sympathy and then disconnected. I thought about the difference between Olivia and Andi and the differences between their daughters who had become best friends. It just didn’t add up. I could see Mel running away from home, but I couldn’t see her running away from Cali. Runaways often seek shelter with trusted friends. Only in cases where there is no friend or there has been a big fight do they just disappear. <p>Or when someone makes them disappear.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-9626104247327830472011-04-30T10:00:00.000-07:002011-11-23T07:40:25.849-08:00Sweet Oblivious Antidote<blockquote><p><em>Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,<br />
Raze out the written troubles of the brain<br />
And with some sweet oblivious antidote<br />
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff<br />
Which weighs upon the heart?<br />
—Macbeth V.iii</em></p></blockquote><p>Andi drove from the theater to her house in silence. I was afraid to break it. My arm resting on the seatback let me softly touch her shoulder as she drove. Once at a stoplight, she pulled my fingers to her lips and kissed them, then put my hand securely back on her shoulder. Much though I wanted to, I didn’t dare put my hand on her leg beside the console. I didn’t want to seem pushy. I hadn’t felt this nervous since high school. <p>She pulled the van into the spot behind her duplex and as soon as we were both out of the car she grabbed my hand tightly as she went to the back door and unlocked it. She didn’t bother to ask whether I wanted to come in. <p>As soon as the door shut behind us, Andi’s lips were pressed against mine and we both moaned as we found each other’s warm, receptive mouth. I held her… no, I clutched her tightly against me, willing her to simply know how much I loved her. <p>When Eric’s three-legged cats finally decided they liked me a few years ago—or at least that I was a fact in the building and wouldn’t suddenly disappear—they attached themselves to me at every opportunity. If I sat on the back steps to drink wine with Eric, or if a group of us gathered around a hibachi to grill steaks on the landing, they would twist around my ankles, rubbing and purring. If I failed to pet them in the right spot, they rubbed against me until they had satisfied themselves. Once, when I was juggling two bags of groceries that I’d carried down the hill from QFC, they slipped past me into my apartment and when I sat in my recliner they were suddenly both in my lap kneading my leg with their one front paw each and pushing every part of their bodies against me with a purr that shook the picture on my wall. <p>I swear that Andi was purring against my chest as she molded her body into mine. <p>Nor was I idle in petting her. <p>Whenever I took a breath to say something, she captured my mouth in another kiss. We were lost in each other. When Andi pushed me away firmly, I thought we were ready to return to cautious reality. <p>“Dag, Cali is spending the night at Alex’s house. Will you stay with me tonight? Please.” <p>“Andi…” It was what I wanted more than anything, and still I was so afraid that our relationship wasn’t ready. “Andi, are you sure? Once we do this we can’t go back. I love you desperately, but I don’t want to lose what we have.” <p>“Dag, my darling. We don’t have to sacrifice what we have to have what we want. You are a good man. I know you might break my heart one day, but I also know you would never be cruel or hurt me if you could avoid it. Now come with me.” She turned and headed toward her bedroom. I started to follow, then stopped abruptly. <p>“Andi, wait.” She turned and I saw a moment of doubt and worry on her face. “I’m not prepared. I didn’t bring anything…” Damn the age of safe sex! <p>“Take one from the cookie jar,” she said, laughing at me. Then she stepped back into the kitchen and looked me straight in the eye. “Grab a handful.” <p align="center">*** <p>Once we were in Andi’s bedroom, everything slowed down. It wasn’t that we didn’t both desperately want to consummate our love, but neither of us wanted to miss anything about the experience. I looked around and realized that in seven years of friendship I’d never seen Andi’s bedroom. Her bed was actually bigger than mine, no matter that I was nine inches taller. There simply wasn’t room in my apartment for a big bed and so I slept diagonally on a standard double. <p>The décor in Andi’s room was feminine, but not girly. She had matching pastel sheets, duvet cover, dust ruffle, and pillows complemented by the simple dressing chair upholstery and the drapes. There was nothing ornate, but a simple throw-rug in a darker hue was in front of the bed, and a couple of very nice pieces of artwork that on closer examination proved to be quite erotic hung on the wall. The rest of the room was decorated in pictures of Cali at all stages of her life. There was Cali in school pictures and Cali in plays. I was a little nervous about undressing in front of so many pictures of the girl. <p>Andi took that decision away from me. We gently helped each other out of each item of clothing, showering kisses on each other as we removed each piece. We let our hands touch each other and our lips taste each other. Both of us wanted to remember this moment for the rest of our lives and neither of us wanted it to be a blur of frantic passion. <p>But the passion was there. As we settled our naked bodies between the sheets, we kissed and even laughed at each other’s reactions. She softly kissed my head near my wound and asked if it was okay. We surprised each other with impromptu discoveries of erogenous zones that neither of us knew we had. When I dragged a finger lightly from the hollow beneath her collar bone across her breast and down to the valley of her navel, Andi shuddered in my arms. Then she giggled like a teenager and quietly said, “Do you want to… now?” I smiled at her wickedly. <p>“No. I was thinking we’d just tease each other tonight.” Her eyes got big and then a fit of giggles took us both over. Her hand caressed my ribcage and I could feel an electric tingle all up and down my spine. I pulled her to me and kissed her eyelids. “Oh Andi, I love you so much.” <p>“Then make love to me, Dag.” <p>We slid together and with a minimal amount of fumbling I began to enter her as I looked into her eyes. Not for the first time, I felt I could just lose myself in her eyes. I pressed my cheek against hers and sank sank slowly into her. She suddenly caught her breath, her whole body shaking. I felt moisture against my cheek and looked again at her face. Tears streamed from her eyes, clenched shut. I panicked slightly. I don’t know what possessed me. <p>“Andi… Were you… Were you a…?” I couldn’t finish the sentence. She panted shallowly. <p>“I have… a… 17-year-old daughter. I don’t think it grows back.” There was something determined about the way she said it. She opened her eyes, filled with tears and a smile broke across her face that filled my heart. <p>“Andi…?” <p>“Just make love to me, Dag. I’ve waited so long for you.”</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-45087205582494091342011-04-30T08:38:00.000-07:002011-11-22T07:38:48.380-08:00Excite the Man<blockquote> <p><em>For their dear causes<br>Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm<br>Excite the mortified man.<br>—Macbeth V.ii</em></p></blockquote> <p>I hadn’t been to sleep yet when Andi called and asked if I was interested in a cup at the Analog. I glanced at the clock on my screen and realized it was after 8:00. After I said yes, I looked at the results of all my research during the night. What I had to report wasn’t happy, but neither did it explain why Melissa would suddenly up and run away without even telling her best friend. I met Andi at the foot of the back stairs in the alley and we walked down to the Analog Café. We’d done this dozens of times in the past, though usually not quite so early in the morning. And never before with her hand held in mine as we walked. <p>It was a beautiful clear day, though the streets were still wet from last night’s rain. The Space Needle punctuated the view down Thomas with Puget Sound glistening in the background and an amazing clear and crisp view of the Olympic Mountains in the background. I had the feeling this was going to be a good day after all the stress of the week past. One thing for sure was that I had no intentions of going back to CCS this weekend, and probably not Monday either. All through searching for clues about Mel during the night, my brain was processing the clues to the credit card fraud in the background. I was down to four suspects based on who had access to my backpack after the accident. I’d been at CCS two weeks. Phil had been on vacation half that time. We’d had very little interaction. Darlene had been nothing but helpful to me since I started there. She was sweet, loyal to her boss, efficient at what she was doing, and great at covering for me when needed. I’d looked into Jen’s eyes. I saw a degree of raw lust there—maybe even a challenge—but I hadn’t detected any outright malice. She had the same kind of dogged determination to get to the bottom of a puzzle that I had. Then there was Arnie. Position of power. Access to everything in the company. Technically adept. And when it came down to it, I really disliked executives. I was pretty sure I had my villain. I just needed proof. <p>I was so wrapped up in the pleasant sensations of walking hand in hand with my newfound love that I didn’t even notice the sights that were so commonplace in our neighborhood. I saw people I recognized and we all belonged in our community—like the very cute brunette dressed, like so many people on Capitol Hill, all in black. She wore a brightly colored scarf around her neck and cowboy boots. She cut quite the figure as she bent to fasten the leash of her pug to a chair leg outside while she ran in to get a coffee. I didn’t even notice. Yeah. <p>“How’s Cali this morning?” I asked Andi. <p>“Better, I think. She’s still asleep. I popped my head into her room to see if she wanted to come along this morning, but she pulled the covers up over her head. Between the show and her best friend running off, she was pretty exhausted. I cuddled her until she finally fell asleep last night. Afterward, I was wishing someone would cuddle me.” She smiled up at me and I placed a light kiss on her lips just before we ordered our coffees. <p>“You could have called me.” <p>“Mmm. I glanced up, but your room was dark. I assumed you were asleep.” <p>“Not yet,” I said. <p>“Young love,” Lonnie the barista commented while he waited for us to place our orders. “I wondered when you two would finally get together. What a difference a week makes.” We grinned at him. He was already pulling our shots. <p>“Do you know everything about everyone in this neighborhood?” I asked. <p>“Pretty much,” he replied. “It’s our own little soap opera. Do you know how many hearts you’ve broken by finally choosing Andi? There’ve been more tears than coffee on this counter this week.” <p>“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “How could anyone even know?” <p>“Well, I certainly don’t gossip about anything, but I do hear things.” Andi was blushing almost scarlet. I looked around the café. Did I just imagine that people’s eyes were turning away from us just as I glanced their way? <p>“There isn’t even another girl in the same generation in this neighborhood,” I joked casually. “Rule of dating: Half your age plus seven. Minimum.” <p>“Who was talking about the girls?” Lonnie said, sighing. This time I blushed—I could feel it. We left and took our drinks outside to enjoy the sunny morning. As soon as we were out of the coffee shop, Andi started giggling. <p>“What?” I asked. <p>“Pheromones. Now I’m sure of you,” she said cryptically. I raised an eyebrow. I had no idea what she was talking about. “As soon as a man falls in love, he starts exuding an aura that attracts other potential mates. It’s the perceived last chance before the boat sails.” <p>“Hey,” I said. “This boat has already left the harbor.” <p>“Hmmm. This boat hasn’t even entered the harbor yet.” That shut me up, but good! We strolled south and ended up watching an early morning soccer game at Cal Anderson Park. <p>“What did you find out about Mel last night—since I know now you were up all night.” <p>“It doesn’t look good,” I said softly. This was going to be hard. “I’m suspecting she had assistance.” <p>“You mean she met someone?” <p>“Actually, I hope that’s all. She might have just put herself in danger.” <p>“Kidnapped? But the police…” <p>“If you have an 11-year-old who disappears, the police will immediately assume kidnapping and put out an amber alert. But if the child is over 15, the first assumption is that she’s a runaway unless you can provide specific evidence that it wasn’t voluntary. The police have a bulletin out on her, but there is no active search or alert. But Mel…” <p>“I can’t believe that Olivia accused Cali of causing her best friend to run away!” Real anger flared in Andi all at once. I knew she was concerned for Mel, but the fact that her own daughter had been verbally attacked brought out the momma bear in her. I clutched her to me tightly. <p>“Whatever happened, Cali is not to blame for it,” I reassured her. “You are the best mom in the world and Cali is a great kid. She didn’t lead Mel astray. But the truth is that Mel was acting dangerously online. It’s going to be almost impossible to get her parents to see that. She was very good at keeping an image of perfection at home.” <p>“What was she doing?” <p>“I ran various searches and comparisons all night long. In fact, I still have some running. The social network account that she has and that Cali is friends with her on was only one of her accounts. It’s public, and I’m sure her parents monitor it. They are both friends on her profile. Her posts are sweet and controlled. In fact, too controlled. Even Cali has slipped up and posted an occasional profanity on her updates. But Mel never expresses profanity in the way that we know she uses it. Her posts are always upbeat and rah-rah. It got me thinking that this wasn’t her real profile. It took a long time to verify, but I found an account that was marked ‘members only.’ That’s a dangerous sign, but I joined it. She has over 3,000 followers on that account and they are nearly all male.” <p>“How do you know it is her account?” <p>“The photographs.” <p>“Oh God, no! She’s not doing pornography is she?” <p>“Not openly, if at all. There were enough face shots that I could recognize her clearly. The rest of the pictures were not explicit, but were suggestive. Alluring. Some were even provocative. But none of them likely to get a person thrown into jail for possessing child pornography. She’s been doing this for at least two years.” Revealing this information to Andi was hard. She was the parent of a 17-year-old girl. Hearing what her daughter’s best friend was doing was not going down well. <p>“Cali… Cali isn’t involved in… Please tell me no, Dag.” <p>“No. Believe me, once I found out what Mel was into, I did just as extensive a search on Cali. Nothing came up.” <p>“Thank God! What do we do now?” <p>“I still don’t have any kind of evidence that suggests that she was kidnapped, so nothing I can turn over to the police. What I need to do is get access to her private email on this forum. I’m doing a search on everything I can come up with as a potential password.” <p>“How? How can you find a person’s password?” <p>“I’m using a hackerazzi technique. You’ve read about stars whose cell phones and Twitter accounts were hacked—pictures stolen, personal information given out? Essentially, most people use a password that is easy to remember. It’s usually something that has meaning to them. It could be the name of an old boyfriend, a dog, a favorite movie, an old address, even a private nickname or name of a sibling. Mother’s maiden name is popular. Now that I’ve got several different accounts where Mel has posted social updates, I’m downloading everything she’s said online and have a database searching for specific types of information. I’ll also do a word map to see what she’s said most frequently. Sometimes a password is simply a favorite word or phrase, and that shows up in the word map.” <p>“Cali’s name?” <p>“Too short. Passwords on most of these accounts have to be at least seven characters. And I already tried California.” <p>“You knew?” <p>“Cali’s full name? Yes. Was it a secret? How did you ever come up with that?” <p>“I was young, widowed, and desperate. Charles used to say he was the King of Florida. I’d say, today Florida, tomorrow the world. He’d answer, no, tomorrow California.” There was a twinge in my chest. I had to wonder how well rehearsed that story was. <p>I knew there had been no Charles Marx. <p align="center">*** <p>For all my efforts, my research between naps the rest of Saturday came up with nothing that worked. Granted, I was pretty tired and suffered periodic headaches, but I hadn’t found an answer yet. I met Andi at 6:00 and we got a bite to eat before going to Cali’s closing performance of “Macbeth.” <p>Cali got involved with Theater in the City when she was in grade school. According to Andi, she had been a shy, insecure child with no friends. Apparently, Andi grew up much the same way and enrolled her in an acting class on a whim. Cali had blossomed and soon she had acting, dance, and singing classes at the theater and was cast in her first musical as a munchkin in The Wizard of Oz. She was hooked, and had grown into what her friends called a triple threat. She could sing, dance, and act. Mostly, I’d admired her singing voice over the years. I remembered her first impromptu performance for the Faculty Lounge about five years ago when she sang a very campy “Wash that man right out of my hair,” with Mel clowning as a man caught in her hair. The singing was a little hesitant, but the clowning the two did had all of us in the restaurant laughing our heads off. Whenever Cali convinced Mel to join her in one of her performances, Mel was a silent clown. Her own bent was toward sports and she was a very physical girl. <p>The last time I’d heard Cali sing in a musical, she’d nearly broken my heart as Johanna Barker in “Sweeney Todd.” Her voice was like crystal and filled the auditorium. She was looking forward to studying theater at a major university when she graduated from high school. <p>Based on what she had been saying for the past week, I was braced for a truly awful, amateurish rendering of Macbeth. What we got was nothing short of stunning. The director had made two choices that made a professional quality production. First, rather than try to get his teen actors to master the English and Scottish dialects, he focused them on cadence and pronunciation. As a result, we could hear the music in Shakespeare’s language and could understand every word that was spoken. Second, with the exception of a couple of seriously older characters—notably the assassinated king and his advisor Ross—the director had interpreted the cast as adolescents who were thrust into their roles without adult supervision. They were ruled by their passions, impulses, and superstitions. They automatically believed everything that everyone said, and as a result stood by while their friend and gang leader turned into a ruthless bully. Setting Macbeth on the streets of the city in a gang war environment, complete with allusions to drug abuse among the cast was a little bit reminiscent of West Side Story, but at the same time it completely made sense to see Macbeth hallucinating a vision of dancing kings when he was sitting in a dark room stoned out of his mind. <p>And Cali. I don’t know if it was the pain of losing her best friend or if she was truly that gifted an actress. The transition from confident, scheming, adolescent wife of Macbeth to the shell-shocked waif that wandered the battlements crying “Out damn’d spot!” was poignant. Andi clutched my hand and both of us had tears in our eyes. <p>Theater in the City, being all kids with an occasional adult ringer in an appropriate role, had a ritual of letting the cast meet parents, friends, and well-wishers in the theater lobby after the show as soon as the actors get out of costume. It wasn’t Cali that reached us first, though. It was a bouncing redhead wearing black-rimmed geek glasses with silver filigree running the length of the bows. She was in jeans, a black production t-shirt that said “That Scottish Play” on the back, and a floppy straw hat. She was still wiping some kind of adhesive off her face and I recognized her as the actor who played Siward in the last act. She rushed straight to Andi. <p>“Hi Mrs. Marx,” she said. <p>“Hi Alex. Good show!” <p>“Thank you. Before Cali comes out, I was wondering if it would be okay with you for her to come to my house tonight after the strike party. I’m having some girls over and….” She paused and reconsidered what she was about to say. “We all love Cali and she’s really hurting over Mel running away. We don’t want her to go off alone tonight like she did last night. She belongs with us.” <p>“Alex, that is so sweet of you. Of course, if she wants to come to your house for the night it’s fine. In fact…,” Andi seemed to consider something for a moment and caught her breath slightly. “In fact, I agree that it’s a good idea for her to be with friends tonight.” <p>“Yeah. Things just aren’t right without CaliMel.” What was that? <p>“CaliMel?” I asked, breaking in to the conversation. “Did you call her CaliMel?” The teen turned toward me as if wondering who I was to be breaking into her conversation. <p>“Oh Alex,” Andi came to the rescue. “You’ve never met my friend, Dag Hamar.” There was an instant look of recognition in Alex’s face. She was a good foot shorter than I was, but I swear that when she turned her attention on me she looked me straight in the eye. <p>“Oh! You’re the computer geek!” <p>“Alex!” <p>“I’m sorry!” <p>“It’s okay,” I said, laughing. “I can’t honestly think of a better way to describe me.” <p>“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Alex rushed on. “I’m a geek, too!” She held up a hoodie sweatshirt she was carrying and turned the back to face me. Across the shoulders were written the words “Talk nerdy to me.” I laughed. <p>“Cali said you are trying to find Mel.” <p>“I’m doing some searches. Which brings me back to my original question, for which I’m sorry I interrupted you. Do you always call her CaliMel?” <p>“A lot of us do. You never see one without the other unless it’s on stage or on a sports field. We used to joke that when Cali was in a show, Mel took the curtain call and if Mel hit a homer, Cali signed the ball. It’s just not right for them not to be together.” <p>“Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything about it, but I am trying. You don’t have any ideas about where Mel might have gone do you?” <p>“No. I really only know Mel through Cali. Now if my robot were as smart as I’m making him out to be, I could just let him solve the problem.” <p>“Robot?” <p>“It’s my senior project. I’m writing a one-act, one-woman show in which I carry on a dialog with my artificial intelligence robot. See? I told you I was a geek.” We laughed and I saw Cali approaching. <p>“I’ll look forward to seeing that,” I said. <p>“Say, do you know anything about artificial intelligence? Could I use you as a resource?” <p>“I’m not an authority, but if you have any questions, please feel free to give me a call.” I handed her one of my business cards and she spun around into the arms of a very tall, blonde guy with a ponytail and a voice much deeper than a teenager’s should be. They had a quick hug and were off to visit other parents and friends in the crowded lobby. <p>Cali was already wrapped in a big hug by her mother. I had to ask myself, whatever happened to teens who kept their chins against their chests and mumbled when they were around adults? These kids—all of them in the theater program—walked with their heads held high and a sense of confidence and accomplishment that just oozed out of them. They looked adults in the eye and spoke clearly and comfortably. They carried on actual, intelligent conversations. I just don’t get kids. <p>It was my turn to hug Cali and I was a little surprised by the ferocity of her grip. She didn’t let go when she stopped hugging, but wrapped one arm around her mother and pulled all three of us together in her hug. She looked up at the two of us and asked a little fearfully, “Was it okay?” <p>“Oh Sweety, it was magnificent. I’m so proud of you,” Andi answered immediately. Cali’s eyes shifted to mine as if she was waiting for my assessment before she could relax. <p>“You lied to me,” I said softly. Her eyes got big. “You told me it was awful and would be a big flop. You told me you didn’t understand Lady Macbeth. You told me it was no big deal.” By this time she was grinning shyly. “I brought earplugs so I wouldn’t have to listen to the butchering of the bard,” I continued. “You didn’t prepare me to be wowed. You didn’t tell me you were such a professional that you could pull off one of Shakespeare’s hardest roles and make it look so natural. The show was great and you were spectacular.” I was rewarded with another death-grip hug that brought the three of us together. The show was great, but I really loved this. <p>After saying our goodbyes and affirming that Cali had everything she needed to spend the night at Alex’s house, Andi and I left the theater.</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-41827845682757986432011-04-29T09:01:00.000-07:002011-11-21T08:02:18.496-08:00Eyes Open<blockquote> <p><em>Her eyes are open.<br>Ay, but their sense is shut.<br>—Macbeth V.i</em></p></blockquote> <p>The hall was empty when I poked my head out the door. I’m sure I could have talked my way out of confinement if I needed to, but there was something about walking around with my butt hanging out of a hospital gown that affected my confidence. I wasn’t connected to any beeping machinery or medicine bags so at least I could walk quietly to the stairway and make my way to the lobby. No one uses the stairs in a hospital at night when the elevators are no longer in high demand. <p>I looked out of the lobby door and could see the reception desk almost out of sight of the elevators. Unfortunately, the mailbox was directly across from me. I clutched the dozen credit card envelopes in my latex gloved hand, straightened my back and walked straight across the lobby to the mail slot. I dropped them in, turned on my heel and went back to the stairwell and inside. I know that the young couple who were sleeping in the lobby leaning against each other opened an eye, but he shook his head and they went back to sleep. I couldn’t see whether the night watchman had taken notice. <p>My progress was arrested briefly as I spotted a neat sign in English and Spanish behind a stack of waiting room magazines. “This is a safe place to leave your newborn infant with an employee or volunteer.” I almost choked. The law regarding infant abandonment was a good law, providing safe transfer of unwanted children to the care of the State. But it caused my heart to ache when I thought about the things that could lead a young mother to abandon her newborn and flee. What kind of world to we live in? <p>Before I slipped back into my room, I dropped the gloves in a “Hazardous Waste” bin. When I was safely tucked back in bed, I buzzed the night nurse. She arrived a few minutes later. <p>“I was just wondering if I could have something for my headache,” I asked politely. She looked at my chart, took my pulse and nodded. <p>“I’ll be right back.” True to her word, she was back with two pills and a glass of water in just a few minutes. It was 10:45 when I rolled over and coaxed myself back to sleep <p>I was now down to four suspects. <p align="center">*** <p>There was a bit of a scuffle and a quick “Hush. This is a hospital. You have no right to interfere with a patient’s rest.” <p>“Ma’am, unless you can tell me the patient is at risk, we have a warrant and service is timely.” <p>“Just don’t wake anyone else,” I heard her concede as the light in my room came on. I rolled over and squinted through my eyes. There were two uniformed officers in the room and just behind them I could see Arnie. <p>“What’s up officer?” I asked groggily. “I gave a couple of statements this afternoon when they thought I pushed the girl. Is there something new you want?” <p>“This doesn’t have to do with that matter,” the first officer said. “I’m officer Rick Newton and I have a warrant to search your personal effects for stolen property.” <p>“Stolen property? A don’t have much here. They cut my clothes off of me this afternoon and I’m not sure where they went. They brought me a bag with my personal items in it. It’s in the drawer. My backpack is here. I don’t have much else.” <p>“I warned you, Dag,” Arnie said coming forward. “I warned you that you would be watched. But you had to prove how clever you could be.” <p>“Excuse us, sir,” the second officer said looking at the plastic bag that contained my wallet, handkerchief, pen knife, change, cell phone, and car keys. Both policemen wore latex gloves as they pawed through my possessions. “You’ll need to stand back.” Thing One had pulled the few items that I carry in my backpack out. Laptop, power cord, tablet, writable disks, and a few assorted cables. Thing Two had moved to the closet and was rifling through my shredded suit. Man, the pain pill that nurse gave me was having some interesting side effects. <p>“We’ll have to search your person as well,” officer Newton said after shoving my laptop back in the backpack. I pulled off the covers and slid out of bed to stand on the floor. He patted me down while the other officer ran his hands through the bedclothes, under the mattress, and into the pillow. <p>“This gown doesn’t even conceal me, officer,” I said. “I’m afraid I can’t hide much of anything else in it. Do you mind telling me what you are looking for?” <p>“Can you tell us your whereabouts last night at 1:00 a.m.?” Newton asked. <p>“Ellensburg Washington,” I answered. Arnie’s eyes popped open in surprise. <p>“Do you have proof of that?” <p>“In my wallet, you’ll find several credit card receipts.” I answered. <p>“What were you doing in Ellensburg?” <p>“A lot of things were happening in my life on Wednesday. Detective Jordan Grant in cybercrimes can fill in any details you’d like. I decided I needed to go for a drive to clear my head. I got carried away. When I finally got to Ellensburg, I just sat in a truck stop and did Internet searches until five. Then I made a couple of phone calls and drove back to town. I’d just come down to go to the office at 11:00 this morning when I was caught in an accident.” <p>“That’s not possible,” Arnie said. “We clearly have him on video surveillance entering the manufacturing facility at 1:00 and leaving fifteen minutes later.” <p>“My ID card doesn’t open that door, Arnie.” He hemmed a bit. <p>“Building security showed me the footage,” Arnie said. “They can’t just make that stuff up.” <p>“Sure they can. You asked me to find out who was dipping in the till. Now I think I know,” I said it with bravado, knowing that Arnie was one of only four people who had access to my backpack when I was brought to the hospital. It must have seemed like an ideal time to plant the evidence. He just shook his head. <p>“I’m sorry, Dag. Things have been so tense in the office the past two weeks that I’m jumping at everything. Don’t bother to tell me now. I’ve got my own suspicions. Just get well and get back on the job.” He looked apologetic and defeated as he walked out the door with the two police officers. I didn’t believe him for a minute. <p align="center">*** <p>The day had been long and exhausting and I still hadn’t managed much sleep. After the cops left with Arnie, I called Lars. As much as my ass was on the line, CCS had hired Lars’s agency to work undercover. It wasn’t long after that when I got a call from Jordan. He was ticked off as well and had gone after the patrol that was called on the credit card theft. There was no way uniforms should have made the investigation. Even if the theft had technically not been a cybercrime, in this day financial crimes were so closely related that they all sat in the same department. He was on the warpath. <p>I hadn’t really slept long when the doctor came in and summarily released me. Now that created a problem as I had no clothes that I could put on, but a nurse came in and told me Jared had dropped off a sack of clothes for me on his way to work at five. I was more than thankful just to be back in my jeans and classic rock t-shirt. I packed up my meager belongings and caught a cab outside the hospital. <p>I was still in the cab when my phone rang and Andi asked if she could come and pick me up. I laughed. <p>“That’s a great idea,” I said. “Why don’t you come out to the curb and open the taxi door for me?” <p>The cab pulled up two minutes later and Andi was in my arms. <p>“I’m going to call in sick and cancel my classes today so I can take care of you,” she said helping me up the steps to her house. Cali came rushing out the door and grabbed me from the other side. <p>“Oh my god that was you! Mom told me all about the accident.” Somehow the two sentences didn’t connect in my mind. I shook it off as being a result of my fuzzy-headedness. <p>“Wait, wait,” I said as we entered the house. <p>“I can’t stay here and cause you to miss work. And you have to go to school. I’m not going to do anything all day long today but sleep, so there isn’t a thing either of you can do.” <p>“But Dag…” <p>“No. Just seeing you both here this morning is more than any guy could hope for, but the doctor gave me some great pills. I’m going up to my room and take one, then sleep until Faculty Lounge this evening.” <p>“You can’t seriously think that you are going out tonight!” Andi was shocked. <p>“I have a date with a really sweet woman tonight and I am not about to miss it. I disappointed her once this week already and I won’t do it again,” I said. Andi launched herself at my lips and scored a direct hit. She clung there for a minute and I savored her taste. We’d probably have kept kissing if we hadn’t heard Cali’s “Awww.” We broke our kiss and I’m sure the color of my face matched the blush on Andi’s cheeks. “You guys are so cute. I’m going to school now. Glad you’re okay, Dag.” With that she was off and I was being led across the lawn to my stairs. <p>“Are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me?” Andi asked softly. <p>“I want to have all my faculties when I stay with you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “Right now I need to sleep and my own bed is the best place for it.” She walked with me up the steps, but didn’t come inside the apartment building. <p>“I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said, placing her lips softly against mine once more. It wasn’t passionate, but it was infinitely sweet. I was ready to fall asleep wrapped in her love. <p align="center">*** <p>I chose jeans and my cashmere sweater for the evening. It was still pretty cool out, but I didn’t want to take a jacket to the club later. I came out of the apartment building, and looked up the hill toward Broadway. I sat down on the steps, pulled out my cell phone and called a cab. Twenty minutes later, longer than it would normally have taken me to walk to the Blue Moon, a cab pulled up and took me up the hill. I’d slept all afternoon, but I just didn’t have the energy to walk anyplace. <p>Lars and Jordan showed up at the lounge as well. Neither talked about the accident, but simply came to enjoy the collegial atmosphere. I given to understand, however, that Lars had stormed Arnie’s office this morning and raised holy hell regarding the midnight raid on my hospital room. <p>“I’m one step away from putting the screws on him,” I said. “He knows. I haven’t figured out how he’s doing it yet, but it’s coming together. The whole stolen cards thing was a red herring. It had all the signs of being an impromptu scheme thought up after I’d shown interest in manufacturing.” <p>“As soon as you get something concrete, I’ll have a team ready to move in and mop it up, Dag. I’m getting a little frustrated having big collars one step away from positive ID.” Jordan was obviously not in a good humor. His techs still hadn’t closed the loop on Patterson and the longer it took, the more likely he would be to find shelter in a faraway land. We weren’t even sure he was in Seattle now. <p>After everyone had gathered, Jan turned to Andi and me. “You two look very punk tonight. Have something planned?” <p>“We’re going to see Two Man Flash at SoDo tonight,” I answered. <p>“What’s the occasion?” Sara asked. <p>“No special occasion. We just happened to have tickets,” I smiled. <p>“Actually, there is kind of a special occasion,” Andi broke in. I looked at her expectantly. This was new. “You see, while you were sleeping today, I got a phone call. I got a job offer from the University!” Wow! The news hit us all and put us in a celebratory mood. “I’ll be teaching one section of Intro to Literature and one of Reading Fiction. It’s a part time gig, so I’ll still be able to teach at the community college as well.” We all congratulated Andi. She’d wanted to get into the U for as long as I’d known her, and even if this was only teaching two classes, it was a foot in the door. <p>We relaxed and sat there eating and talking until much later in the evening than usual. Andi and I didn’t need to be at the club until 9:00, so we were in no hurry to leave and other members of the Lounge seemed to be in various stages of spring fever. We just sat and laughed and relaxed until Andi and I had to leave for the concert. We did, however, both get a text off to Cali wishing her a broken leg. <p>The concert was fun, though by 11:00 I was already feeling a little weak and the heat, noise, and press of people in the club were getting to me. At 11:30, I asked Andi if we could go now, even though the band had one more set to play. She quickly agreed and we caught a cab in front of the club. <p>Frankly, I’m not all that comfortable in Pioneer Square at night these days—even as far south as SoDo was. There’s a pocket of light around each of the popular nightspots with huge voids of darkness in between and enough booze flowing in the gutters to make the seagulls sick. The shadows hid all manner of danger and I was glad we had a cab right in front of the club and could send him directly out of the neighborhood and up to Capitol Hill. <p>On the ride, I don’t think we broke our kiss so much as to breath. Our hearts were still beating in time with the music we’d been listening to and there was no way we were ready for the night to end, even if we wanted a change of venue. To someplace, maybe, softer and quieter. <p>I tipped the driver and we stumbled into Andi’s house. We were so wrapped up in each other that it took us a moment before we realized we weren’t alone. We heard the sniffles first and then Andi turned on a light and we saw Cali lying on the sofa crying. <p>Andi turned from passionate girlfriend and near lover to concerned parent in an instant and I was left staring with my mouth open. <p>“Cali, baby. What’s wrong honey?” Andi asked as she scooped her daughter up in her arms. “Was the show that bad?” <p>“The show… was… fine,” Cali sobbed. “But Mel didn’t come.” <p>“She’s never missed one of your openings. What happened.” <p>“I… I… called after the show. Her mom… said… said… she’s run away from home. And then she said it was all my fault. She said she never should have let her little girl run around with an undisciplined brat like me with my liberal upbringing and no rules. She said it was all my fault that Mel ran away. Mommy, why did she do that?” <p>I couldn’t honestly tell whether Cali was asking about Mel or Mel’s mother. I guess it didn’t matter. <p>“I can’t believe she ran away and she didn’t even tell me. What am I going to do without Mel?” Cali was wailing and Andi was rocking her baby in her arms. I went into the kitchen to find the one remedy that every parent I’ve known has used. I boiled water and made tea. I found a Night-time tea in the cabinet and made two steaming mugs. As Andi rocked Cali on the sofa, I held the warm cups for them and tried desperately to think of a nice fatherly gesture to make. Apparently the tea was it. Cali looked up at me. <p>“Thank you Dag. I’m sorry I ruined your night for you.” <p>“Tweety Bird, nothing is more important when you are hurting,” I said. I’d used the pet name for Cali on occasion since the day I saw her running around in Tweety Bird and Sylvester pajamas. “Do you want me to try to find Mel?” <p>“Can you?” <p>“I don’t know, but I’ll look on the Internet and see what I can locate. It’s hard for a girl who is so used to being connected to just drop out of sight.” <p>“Thank you Da… Dag.” My heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I thought she was going to call me Dad. Andi kissed her daughter on the forehead and told her to go take a shower and she’d cuddle her in bed. Cali took another sip of tea then left the room. <p>“That was so sweet of you, Dag.” <p>“I don’t know if I can find anything, but I’ll try.” <p>“Maybe you aren’t such bad parent material after all.” <p>“I love you, Andi. Cali comes with that.” I’d said it without realizing it. It wasn’t the way I’d imagined saying it. It wasn’t how I’d planned. But with all my intentions aside, it seemed to have been the right thing to say. Andi’s arms went around my neck and she lifted herself off the floor getting to my lips. The kiss was a more effective painkiller than anything the doctor could have prescribed. My head, while not exactly clear, was suddenly pain free. <p>“Good-night, darling,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” <p>I climbed to my room in the apartment building next door. I felt light and free. It was the kind of feeling that makes a man want to write poetry. Only I don’t write poetry. I write code. <p>Short, beautiful, elegant lines of code. </p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-35732085295233253402011-04-28T07:37:00.000-07:002011-11-20T06:38:06.871-08:00An Angry God<blockquote> <p><em>To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb<br>To appease an angry god.<br>—Macbeth IV.iii</em></p></blockquote> <p>I was caught in morning traffic coming into Seattle. I’d sat in the cafe running searches through the night until finally ran down the batteries of both the tablet and the laptop. I drove back to Seattle with less pressure on the gas pedal. I still didn’t have a great answer. In fact, I didn’t have an acceptable answer. Andi simply was not who she said she was. I’d even run a search designed to find a news story about a death with a smile, a martini, and a pregnant wife. I was amazed at how many of those there were. <p>And really—what could I say about it anyway? I couldn’t just open a conversation and say, “By the way, now that I’ve told you I love you, who are you?” I was sure there was a simple explanation, but outside of being in a witness protection program, I had no idea what it could be. <p>Now it was Thursday morning. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I was walking downtown toward the office, but hadn’t determined whether or not to go in. I showered and shaved when I got home and then got online at CCS by remote access to see if anyone was missing me, not caring if I got there on time and not sure if I was going at all. But still, here I was walking up Third toward the office. There were quite a number of people on the street for 11:00 in the morning. My experience was that most people who were in the financial district at this hour were in offices. The rigid schedule of bankers and brokers meant that everyone would flood out onto the streets at exactly noon and the street would be empty again at 1:00. It was always a curiosity to me as to why no one ever changed their lunch schedule, but maybe today was the day. <p>There was a woman coming toward me who looked like she had just walked down from Capitol Hill herself. She wore a plaid lumberman’s shirt with a knit cap. Her motorcycle boots were pulled up over faded khaki denims. Her nose was pierced with a hoop through it. There were several rings in her ears and a tattoo was visible under her left ear that disappeared beneath her collar. I didn’t really want to imagine where else she had things stuck through her body. <p>Behind me a couple was arguing. It sounded trivial to me—something about the time they were supposed to meet a friend—but I’ve often thought that what is trivial to one person could be the most important thing in the life of another. Arguments occur when people on opposite ends of that spectrum collide. <p>Two men in black suits and white shirts walked past me. If I lived in the suburbs I’d automatically assume they were missionaries wanting to tell me about this religion or that. Two by two. Another war waiting to occur. When the only right way and the only possible way collide. In fact, maybe that was what I was arguing with myself about. Only this time I couldn’t see either a right way or a possible way to handle my situation. I’d been set up and I didn’t know who on my team I could trust. I’d started my tenure at the company distrusting everyone, and now I had to find a way to expose the right person while exonerating myself. <p>I still don’t know what alerted me—a scuffle, a gasp, a shout, a scream. It seemed they all happened at once, directly behind me. I spun around in my tracks. <p>I’ve heard people describe events like this with words like “everything went into slow motion,” and then they describe in great detail everything they saw. I can’t honestly say I saw anything that my brain could process quickly enough to comprehend. But my body seemed to act without me. Even after the fact, all I could put together was that a woman was falling into the street, a bus was coming, and that as I grabbed her and spun her out of the path of the bus she screamed, “He pushed me.” Then there was a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything went black. <p align="center">*** <p>I was being pushed into an ambulance on a gurney when I opened my eyes. I was strapped down securely and could see a blue uniformed police officer standing over me on one side with a med-tech pulling an oxygen mask off my face. My pack was lying on the seat to my right. The EMT was asking if I could see his fingers while I heard the officer rambling on about my rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law….” <p>“Can you raise your finger? Do you feel your toes?” <p>“You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you….” <p>“Is there any pain when I press on your stomach?” <p>“Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?” <p>I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t move my head. My mouth wagged open and closed a couple of times. <p>“Is there anyone we should contact for you?” <p>“Why did you push her?” <p>It was too much. The overload blacked me out again. <p align="center">*** <p>I certainly wasn’t expecting Jen there when they wheeled me into a room after x-rays. I’d been summarily stripped of my clothes—a nice gray suit cut to shreds—while they examined my body for additional damage. Apparently, the twelve stitches the doctor had put in my scalp and a mild concussion from where the bus mirror hit me in the back of the head were all the damage they could find. I felt like I’d been run over. I looked around for the policeman. No one was there. <p>“Jen? What are you doing here?” I asked. <p>“Arnie and Phil were coming back from a morning coffee just in time to see the commotion. When Arnie recognized you he caught a cab up to the hospital and Phil alerted the rest of the team. I came down because I knew Arnie had a budget meeting this afternoon. Phil came over with me, but both he and Arnie left as soon as we heard you were going to be okay.” <p>“Police?” <p>“Big mix-up. One rode here with you and another came with the gal you rescued. Apparently she’d claimed you pushed her, but when was asked to identify you, she screamed that it wasn’t you it was her boyfriend. A woman across the street said she saw you save the girl. As soon as they realized they got the wrong message, one of them got on his mike and called in an arrest bulletin for the boyfriend. <p>“Why did you stay?” <p>“I thought I might be easier for you to look at when you woke up than police and doctors.” She smiled and I realized she was joking. Still, she was pretty easy to look at. She was dressed in a deep lavender suit with three buttons up the front and apparently no more than a black camisole under it. Under other circumstances I’d have been salivating. Under current conditions, however, she was still a suspect. <p>And my affections, even though tested by what I’d learned in the past 24 hours, lay elsewhere. All through the painful flashes and confusion after the accident, all that kept me in the real world was thinking of Andi and that we’d just begun. I knew for a fact that it would make no difference to me why she had changed her identity. I had fully thrown my lot in with her. I had no reservations. <p>“I need to call Andi.” <p>“The girlfriend? You can use my cell phone. I think Darlene already called, though.” <p>“What time is it?” I had no idea how long it had been since the accident and I hadn’t called Andi last night in the turmoil of my net search. <p>“Two o’clock. Darlene called Lars and he suggested she call Andi.” <p>“Which I did, and she’s on her way,” Darlene said coming into the room. “I’m sorry we didn’t call her sooner, but she wasn’t on your contact list. Your mother is on her way as well. She was your emergency contact.” Poor Mom. <p>“Thank you, Darlene,” I still grasped Jen’s phone, dialing in Andi’s number. Even if she was on her way… Darlene put a big bunch of flowers in a vase and arranged it next to the bed. They looked a little wilted. <p>“Sorry I didn’t have time to go to a florist for you. These are left over from Admin Day last Friday.” I laughed a little, but my head was beginning to throb. <p>“I hope I’m out of here before they lose all their petals,” I said. I pushed the connect button to dial Andi. A second later I heard a phone ring outside the door and Andi in stereo saying “I’m here.” I heard her through the phone and from the door as she came into the room. <p>I dropped the phone on the bed in time to catch Andi in my arms as she practically threw herself on me. <p>“You said it wasn’t dangerous! You said you’d be okay! We just got started, don’t get yourself killed yet!” She was laughing and crying and smothering my face with kisses between words. Beyond her, I saw Jen reach to the bed beside me to pick up her phone. She bit her lip and then slipped out of the room. <p>“I guess none of us are still needed here,” Darlene said as she, too, edged away. <p>“Wait,” I said. “Andi, this is Darlene, the Admin in our department at CCS. She’s the one who called. <p>“I don’t know how you knew to call me, but thank you,” Andi said extending a hand to Darlene. She still kept one hand clutching me. <p>“If it hadn’t been for his boss seeing the accident, none of us would have known he was in the hospital at all,” Darlene said. “I’m sorry it took so long to reach you.” <p>“I appreciate all you did, Darlene,” I said. “Please thank the guys at the office for me.” <p>“You’re a lucky man, Dag,” she said looking at both Andi and me. “I hope your luck holds.” With that, she nodded goodbye and left Andi and me alone. <p align="center">*** <p>During the remainder of the afternoon, my mother, Lars, and Jordan all showed up. The doctors told me they wanted to keep me for observation overnight to be sure there were no lasting effects from the concussion. They also seemed to think I was a lucky man. <p>I was pretty exhausted from the effect of the accident, the drugs, and having been awake most of the previous night. I drifted in and out of sleep as people milled about. My mother was suitably impressed with Andi when I introduced her as my girlfriend. Andi outright giggled at the pronouncement. Before Mom left, she looked at me sternly and said, “Keep this one.” <p>Once she was satisfied that I was not in danger of dying on her and that I was really a hero and not a target, Andi reluctantly took her leave to take Cali to final dress rehearsal. I asked her to stop by my apartment and pick up some clothes for me. She waved away my offered keys and said she’d ask Jared to go get some for me. There was some hesitance on her part to enter my private living space without me. <p>When it was just Lars and Jordan left with me, things got serious. <p align="center">*** <p>“We can’t get a positive ID on the bastard,” Jordan said. “Somehow we’ve got to flush him out in the open. If we walk in there less than an open and shut case, the courts will eat our lunch. Even the attack on your systems yesterday came by such a circuitous route that it looked like a dozen different sites were downloading to your computer at once. It’s nasty.” <p>“He’s a gamer,” I said. “We’ve got to think of him that way. To him it is just another game.” John Patterson was one of the few entrepreneurs who emerged from the dot com bust with both his reputation and his fortune intact. He’d been investigated for insider trading, but with no evidence ever emerged on that either. He built a billion dollar fortune in a matter of three years and then surprised the world by signing most of it over to a charitable foundation. At that point the investigations stopped. He was chairman of Patterson Trust, but drew no salary, living what was deemed an exemplary life within the means of the small fortune he had retained for himself. Only in our small group was he suspected of being an online predator and brutal murderer. I’d found enough evidence to make him a person of interest, but even with the threat I’d received we couldn’t positively tie him to the disappearances. <p>I told both my colleagues what I suspected was happening at CCS as well. Lars was appalled, but he said that the accident in front of the building might have bought me enough time to sort it out. He was not happy that I was contemplating walking back into the building. <p>“Stay out of there until you get the evidence,” he said flatly. “Use your recovery time as an excuse. If nothing else, that might force them to change their timeline and tactics. If they have to move in a different way, they could expose themselves.” We were using the term they, not knowing yet how many of the employees at CCS were involved in this scheme. I was content to stay out of the building for now. <p>When the nurse came in and told them they’d have to leave because visiting hours were over, I was relieved. I needed to get some rest. My brain was still whirling, though, so just before Lars left I asked him to hand me my backpack. I figured I could at least check my mail. I said goodbye and for the first time during the day I was alone. <p align="center">*** <p>I dozed off with the backpack still clutched in my arms. When I jerked awake in the digital clock across the room read 10:17. There were no sounds and no movement anywhere near. I’d been told to ring if I needed a pain reliever, but there was no I.V. drip or monitoring device connected to me. The scene from the morning flashed through my brain and I found myself sweating. I didn’t know what instinct had caused me to dive in front of that bus, or how I’d escaped being killed. It just happened. <p>I unzipped the backpack and pulled out the big laptop, intending to take a look at my other search results to see if I could make sense of them. When the computer came out of the bag, it caught on the zipper and I let the bag slip out of my hands. An envelope fell out of the bag onto the bed. <p>I stared at it in disbelief. We’d just said they would have to adjust their schedule, but I hadn’t prepared for this. I reached for a paper towel on the bedside table and used it to pick up the envelope. I’d looked at several just two nights ago when I was trapped in the robotics room. I could feel the card through the envelope addressed to someone I didn’t know in Kansas. <p>I upended the bag and a dozen more envelopes fell onto the bed. </p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-42504026069228156982011-04-27T08:23:00.000-07:002011-11-19T07:23:24.122-08:00Dangerous Folly<blockquote> <p><em>I am in this earthly world; where to do harm<br>Is often laudable, to do good sometime<br>Accounted dangerous folly:<br>—Macbeth IV.ii</em></p></blockquote> <p>I didn’t go into CCS on Wednesday as it was my day to work in my own office. I did, however, intend to investigate what my search spiders had found overnight. Unfortunately, Andi was unable to get together for more than a pleasant good morning kiss before she left for class. She said she was scheduled to go back to the university for interviews in the afternoon and that she had a committee meeting this evening. She’d be bringing Cali home about 10 if I wanted to stop by for a cup of tea before we said goodnight. I told her I wouldn’t miss it. <p>“Unless you are locked up someplace,” she sighed. <p>“Locked in.” <p>“Mm hm.” <p>That left me with a day to work in my office on 15th and to begin putting together the pieces that were left by the police. They’d finished gathering the evidence I’d left them yesterday and the tape was removed from my door. With my new toys, I had more computers lying around than would fit on my desk. I closed up my old laptop and plugged in the new one. It was powerful, but it ate batteries. <p>I immediately logged in to the computer in the CCS office by remote access on my tablet. The first search I wrote gave me limited results. It showed that I was online in the office but none of the other people I wanted to find. The second search result was more productive. I had a log of employee numbers of everyone who had entered the manufacturing facility in the past 48 hours. I matched names with employee numbers from the Human Resources database and waited for my list to be downloaded. <p>In the meantime, I started my gaming machine and called up the entire record of the game I’d run Monday night. I wanted to know who was playing and where they were physically located. While that was running, I flipped on my desktop unit to take a look at what the police had left me. Surprisingly, that was the first computer that gave me results to look at as all three struggled to access the cloud through my wired connection at the same time. The picture on the screen that greeted me was chilling. <p>The mutilated body of a child flooded my largest monitor. A message flashed across the screen that read “Two can play this game. Who do you love, baby?” the screen blanked and then images started flashing across the screen with a timer bar that told me there were two million files waiting to download. <p>I jerked the network cables out of the wall for all three computers as I noticed images starting to download on the laptop as well. This was not good. A quick scan of the files that were downloading told me my computer had been hit with a motherload of porn, much of which was still downloading. I pulled the power out of the desktop and the laptop, then pulled the battery from the laptop as well. <p>Damn! <p>I called Jordan and had to leave a message. Things were heating up. I knew we had a predator on our hands, but I wasn’t used to being the prey. Then a thought struck me. I dialed into the office and asked for Don. The call was routed to Darlene. <p>“Darlene, I need to talk to Don immediately.” <p>“He’s in conference with Mr. Dennis.” <p>“Put me through to both of them, then. This is an emergency.” There was only a moment’s lag before I heard the phone connect. <p>“What’s going on, Dag?” Arnie asked. <p>“Is Don with you?” <p>“I’m here,” Don’s voice answered. <p>“Here’s the situation. I was ras’d in a few minutes ago when I was hit with a massive attack on my office network. It blasted past my firewalls, virus detectors, and several other bells and whistles I’ve got running in my office. It’s nasty stuff. There is a chance the worm got through to my laptop in the office. If so, it could propagate through the network. You’ve got to isolate my computer from the rest of the company.” I could hear a door slam, but the only other sound for a few seconds was the clacking of keys. “Are you guys there?” <p>“I’m here,” Arnie said. “Don is in your office. How long ago did this attack take place?” <p>“Less than five minutes ago. I disconnected my computers, called the police, and then called you.” <p>“You called the police?” <p>“I’ve been doing some consulting for them on tracking down an online predator. This looks like it’s related.” <p>“That’s bad news for you, Dag. Very bad. If you’ve infected our network…” <p>“<i>I</i> haven’t infected anything,” I said hotly. “If the corporate firewalls are working the way they should be, nothing should be able to get through the connection.” <p>“Still, I can’t afford to have risky behavior in my department. We’re under scrutiny as it is.” <p>“Well, with luck that will all be taken care of soon, too.” <p>“You’ve got a solution to our little problem?” <p>“I’m closing in on one. I should be able to tell you more by the end of the week.” <p>“Good. That’s good, Dag. We’ll mop up here. You take care of your equipment. See you tomorrow.” <p>What was that all about? Arnie went from being threatening to exceedingly calm in a heartbeat. Just telling him I was onto a lead shouldn’t have changed him that much. Maybe he was just regretting having snapped at me in the first place. No matter. I needed to clean up the mess of my electronics. I started by pulling the hard drive in my tower. I sealed it in a static proof bag and pulled a spare out of my locked file cabinet. Something told me I was going to need to expand my inventory of spare parts if I kept going in this business. I did an install and put a clean system on the machine. I loaded it up with all the anti-virus software I had and connected an old modem to my landline. My T1 was obviously compromised as a route out. When it came time to get back online, I would have to use the old-fashioned way. <p>I grabbed my tablet and logged on to the cellular network. I wasn’t going to identify myself any further on the Internet than I had, but I needed to check my mail accounts. I knew exactly who had launched this attack, and he wouldn’t have done it without leaving me messages. He was the kind of guy who loved to talk. <p>Sure enough, my email had been bombarded with messages, some ranting about Internet spies, some flaming me directly, and all of them containing an invitation to click on a message that I could see would lead to another virus. The last mail message, however, was one I hadn’t expected this time. It read simply “Unit purged with no harm. IGotUrBak.” What was this? Could it be that Don was the one working to back me up and watching to see what I would do? He certainly had the skills and access to everything in the company. <p align="center">*** <p>My phone buzzed. <p>“Hamar.” <p>“What happened?” Jordan was speaking. <p>“Booted the computer this morning and an attack message showed up on screen. Started downloading porn and unpacking it to everything on the network. And I’m not talking legal porn. This stuff is sick. I disconnected everything and bagged the hard drive. This was complete with a threat, Jordan.” <p>“I’m on my way there now. I’ve got a tech with me that will verify. See you in 20 minutes.” <p align="center">*** <p>Twenty minutes gave me just time enough to check the laptop. By disconnecting everything as quickly as I did, I’d aborted the download to the new laptop, which was a relief to say the least. I wanted to know more than ever now who was accessing that room. I looked at the results I’d received from my match. What I saw was not what I expected and not what I wanted to see. <p>I pulled my ID badge out of my pocket and looked at it carefully. The log showed that every time I’d walked by that room the past week, I’d been logged as entering it. I checked the times. There was video footage that showed me at that door twice last week and twice again this week. And there was an access log that showed me entering it. <p>What was it Jen had said? “It could be a setup,” was beginning to look like I <i>had</i> been set up. Damn. <p align="center">*** <p>The Internet is a dangerous place. The fact that I called the police and that my entire interaction with Predator X had been recorded by a court recorder as a tech tore apart my computer kept me out of trouble. The hard drive that was now filled with a self-replicating virus that kept unpacking level after level of highly illegal porn was confiscated as evidence not against me, but against the scum who attacked me. <p>The problem was the cops had yet to make a hard ID on the guy. We all knew who it was. None of us wanted to believe it. But the evidence so far was all just one step away from being hard enough to make an arrest. <p>What bothered me most were the words that had scrolled across the screen with that first horrid image. “Who do you love, baby?” It reversed an old television catch-line and turned it from a comfort to a threat. <p>I needed to think. And for this thinking, I needed to drive. <p>Half an hour later, I was cruising south on I-5 in the Mustang, feeling the horses in the muscle car whine with power. As soon as I was south of Tacoma, I opened it up and let it roar at 85 slowing down just enough at Olympia, Centralia and Chehalis to not draw attention. Then I put the pedal to the metal and spent 45 minutes over 90. That car moves like a demon, but it drinks gas. I refueled near the Cascade locks on I-84 and swung back onto the Interstate until I hit 82 headed north. I’d been driving nine hours with hardly a break when I reached Ellensburg, going around in circles. It was nearly midnight and both the car and I needed fuel. <p>I thought about the paper trail I was leaving and what it could mean if there were stolen credit cards that just happened to land in the places is was visiting this night. I was plain spooked, but I didn’t have much cash on me, so I ran the card through the pump and went to sit in an all-night truck-stop for food. <p>Had they already lifted credit cards? Printed an untraceable batch of “gift cards?” Downloaded customer data files? <p>Or were they waiting for the next time they could verify I was in the building? It was best that I stay away, but I was going to have to go back tomorrow. There was only one person who could answer the ultimate question. I had to come up with a plan for asking it. <p>In the café, I ordered tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It came with chips and a pickle on the side. I wolfed it down with a cup of trucker coffee while my computer was booting up. The truck stop had free WiFi, so I logged in and accepted the terms on the browser screen. It was time to get into the office and see what was going on. I was far enough away that I couldn’t be there making off with cash while searching the corporate data for a traitor. Right now I had no less than seven suspects and that had kept me so occupied that I couldn’t even begin to guess who else might be involved. I still thought the key would be in finding out who was on the corporate network during my game Monday night. I opened the email account to which I’d sent the search results and started comparing them with known markers on the network log from that night. Five out of seven suspects had logged in between 1:00 a.m. and 3:00 a.m. But none had visited sites associated with my game. <p>That was no problem, since I showed up as logged in as well, but none of my game activity was logged. I was pretty sure that I could identify who was online. I already knew that Jen was following me around the city until close to 1:00 a.m., so it was unlikely she had been online. Unlikely, but not impossible. I was getting stuck. Everyone was still a suspect. <p>I decided to come back to the problem later when my computer chimed. I’d set up an alert system earlier to let me know when anyone used my ID to open a door at the company. I scanned down the list of doors and saw that somehow, I’d just opened the door on 12<sup>th</sup> floor into the manufacturing facility. I quickly paid for my snack, using a credit card and checking the receipt for the timestamp. With physics operating the way it does, I couldn’t be there and here at the same time. <p align="center">*** <p>When I get stumped by a puzzle, I sometimes change projects just so my brain will disconnect from the logic of the problem. Often, while I’m working on this new problem the answer to the previous one will simply come to mind. That’s one of the reasons I work on Sudoku puzzles and why I take multiple clients. So I decided to shift my focus to a client that seemed simple by comparison. I’d do some of the research that Cali had asked me to do. I already knew I wasn’t going to betray Andi, no matter what I uncovered, but I did need to show Cali there was nothing to worry about. I ordered a BLT and a bowl of chilli with more coffee and started searching for Andi. <p>It was completely possible in my mind that the yearbook staff had screwed up the pictures and had put someone else in Andi’s place. That was my operating assumption. So I started searching for Anne D. Sullivan in Florida. <p>I wasn’t happy about what I found. The Sullivan family in Sarasota, Florida had a daughter named Anne. Photos posted online showed that the family was, indeed black. On a hunch, I found a number for the Sullivans but it was only five a.m. in Florida and I decided that was too early to call. <p>I checked directories around Ann Arbor, but found no indication that there was a Sullivan with a daughter near the right age. I looked up every high school in the area for information on their alumni during a two year period that matched Andi’s age and college graduation information. I extended my search and state-by-state repeated the process. All with the same results. None. Further, there was no certificate of marriage for Anne Sullivan and Charles Marx, and no death record of Charles. <p>At five, after paying for my third breakfast with a credit card, I went to the car and dialed the number in Sarasota. <p>“Yes?” <p>“Mrs. Sullivan?” <p>“Who’s calling please.” I had the college yearbook open in my lap and picked a name from the graduating class at random. <p>“This is Dick Warnicki. I’m calling on behalf of our graduating class at Central Florida University. We’ve launched an effort to locate all the members of our class for a directory and I’m wondering if you could give me contact information for Anne. We seem to have lost touch with her.” There was silence at the end of the line. <p>“Why are you doing this?” <p>“I beg your pardon?” <p>“You people all know that Anne died two weeks after graduation. Why are you calling to torment us.” <p>“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. I didn’t have a note on that. I thought I was just calling people we hadn’t heard from. Please forgive me.” I felt like a royal heel. Dead? I wasn’t expecting that. <p>“Just don’t call again. We already gave all her things to the historical society that called after she died. There’s nothing left.” <p>“Could you give me the name of the historical society?” I asked before I thought. She had to be getting suspicious. <p>“It was a long time ago. Just leave us alone.” The line went dead. <p>Something about giving a dead girl’s things to a historical society didn’t ring true with me. I had to draw the same conclusion that Cali had over a year ago. Andi Marx was not Anne Doreen Sullivan. For some reason, that made my heart hurt. </p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-21503718647984372312011-04-26T08:29:00.000-07:002011-11-17T08:20:12.750-08:00Strangely Borne—Part 2<p>It was after lunch that I began my exercise routine. I started on the third floor, walked the entire circuit, and then moved to the fourth floor. I stopped on each floor to examine the bulletin boards where employees posted notices of apartments for rent, puppies for sale, housekeeping services, and the mandatory HR Fair Employment Practices bulletins. CCS had a lively community of employees who posted notes about community service events, ethnic events, and book clubs. I hadn’t noticed how many people I saw walking the halls while I did on most floors. Marketing, of course had the most elaborate displays and included notices about cookie and candy sales from various schools and clubs, and a May Day festival coming up over the weekend. <p>On the other hand, on floors that were mostly technical or manufacturing, there was little or no activity in the halls. The offices had no interior facing windows, and the core was devoted to equipment, much of which was managed remotely. Robotics are an amazing thing. <p>That’s what I encountered on the 12th floor. <p>As I approached the security door where I’d concealed my miniature RFID reader, I pulled out my cell phone and launched an app for capturing the info from the device. I timed my approach so the cameras were pointed away and waved the phone at the reader. In an instant it had captured the signal and replayed it for the security unit. The door clicked unlocked and a green light came on. I smiled and continued my exercise routine. <p align="center">*** <p>I was back in my office by 2:30, having cut short shrift to the upper floors. There is a fundamental fact about security cameras that few people know. They aren’t usually monitored. It was ridiculous to imagine a person whose job was to watch the camera feed 24 hours a day. Add to that the fact that there were over 100 cameras that I had counted with at least four to a floor and you have a phenomenal amount of video to watch. It would take no less than 60 people by my rough estimate to monitor all the feeds 24-7. Instead, footage was stored for a period of time in a digital vault that could accommodate several petabytes of data. After 30 days, the data was erased. Only if there was an intrusion into the company, a theft, or assault, would the tapes ever be reviewed. CCS’s unique policy of having security cameras playing as screen-savers on every employee’s desktop simply served to remind people they were being watched. <p>I needed to know if there was video surveillance in the manufacturing facility. I used my portable keyboard to tap out the commands and searches I needed inside the network to generate a list of video feeds. True to my assumption, there was video surveillance at the entrances to the facility, but not inside. <p>Next, I needed plans for the building. I suspected there was a reason for the facility being on the 12th floor. Unfortunately, the company plans for offices were of no help. The floor plans on the Intranet showed what offices were on which floors, where emergency exits were, and general use information regarding the large spaces that were used for the server farm and the manufacturing facility. I needed electrical, heating, and plumbing plans. <p>Developers making structural changes in buildings are required to obtain a building permit from the Department of Planning and Development. Applications for building permits must be accompanied by blueprints that building inspectors use to approve the work and then verify that it was done according to specification, is safe, and is habitable. Being a government office, it doesn’t throw anything away. A huge microfilming project was undertaken a few years ago and development documents from the 1890s forward have been cataloged. At the same time the historical documents went into microfilming, all current projects were stored digitally. I was betting the modifications to the 12th floor were made after digitization started. <p>Proper protocol for looking at these documents requires an investigator to submit a request, go to the office, and pick up the files after signing for them. But the permits and drawings are a matter of public record, so technically breaking into the city’s digital vault to view the plans wasn’t completely illegal in my mind. I looked up the city records for the building permits on this site. The low-res digital images I found were just adequate to confirm my suspicions. <p>There is still something about the number 13 that makes people jittery, even in an age supposedly beyond superstition. As a result, very few buildings acknowledge a 13th floor. The elevators in our building were no exception. The buttons were numbered consecutively from 1-12 and from 14-26. We were supposed to believe that there simply was no 13th floor. <p>The reality was that most of the building’s mechanicals were located on the 13th floor, accessible only by a service elevator and stairs. The central core, however, had been cut out to make a single two-story room where the manufacturing equipment of the credit card company was located. It would take me some work, but I was pretty sure I could access the facility through the equipment rooms on the non-existent 13th floor. It was going to be a climb. It was nearly 5:00 by the time I’d finished my various searches and memorized the access points I needed. There was still one thing I wanted to check. <p align="center">*** <p>I stepped out to verify that Don had left for the day. If he was here since four a.m. he had a good excuse to bug out early. In fact, all my teammates on this floor were gone. I wasn’t going to bother checking on Jen upstairs. I went back to my desk and called up the network logs for last night. I wanted to see exactly what was recorded at the time I was being attacked in cyberspace. <p>Network logs are screen after screen of text lines. CCS is a 24-hour company in some areas, so there is always traffic on the network. I could get close to the information I wanted by searching the time, but I was only certain that it was between 3:30 and 4:00 which left thousands of lines of log entries. Part of being a good detective is being able to see anomalies. Take one look around a room and identify the one item that is out of place. I’d already proven how inept I was at that last night when I failed to realize I had not one but two tails on me. But it was different when I looked at lines of code. I started scrolling through the lines of log entries, not sure what I was looking for, but watching for the anomaly. I didn’t try to read the lines, just watch for the patterns. As the lines went by, I zoned out, letting them flood my mind. <p>It took me two passes through the entire half hour log before I saw it. The timestamps. <p>At 3:42:24 there was a ten second gap. The numbers had been consecutive, often multiple for a given timestamp up to that point, but between 3:42:24 and 3:42:34 there were no entries. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that all network traffic into and out of CCS suddenly ceased for ten seconds in the middle of the night right when half a dozen gamers broke through the firewall and were ousted by another gamer who was already inside. Right. That’s like thinking there is ever a time in 24 hours that there is ten seconds between messages posted on Twitter. <p>I examined the records carefully. On either side of the ten second block, an employee was surfing the Web. The network log indicated a start point and an end point for each link. Above the ten second gap the addresses moved smoothly. From a to b, from b to c, from c to d. But below the gap the transitions were suddenly from f to g. The referrals from d to e and e to f were missing. Someone had edited the network log and that took a lot of skill. The log was autogenerated from the system. Blanking out a portion of it or deleting it was a lot more serious than simply breaching the firewall. <p>Now that I knew what I was looking for, I could write search parameters and send spiders into the network. At least theoretically. First I had to locate a server in the cloud that would let me execute a program that would technically be classed a virus by security. I could get the results, but whatever server I found would be pulled off-line and the hole patched by morning. Ah well. That will just enhance company security. I set the little bug loose. <p>It was nearly six and I was supposed to meet Andi at seven. I set up both the company laptop and my big gaming machine side-by-side on my desk and put them sleep so I could wake them remotely if I needed to. Then I grabbed my tablet and my cell phone and left. <p align="center">*** <p>The service stairwell was accessible from the underground parking garage where some impatient mechanic had simply wedged the door open and left it. It had taken me nearly ten minutes to find it, even knowing from the building blueprints where to look. It took 12 minutes to climb to the 13th floor. Of course, it wasn’t marked 13. The access door below was marked 12 and the access door above was marked 14, but this door was simply marked “Danger. High Voltage. Do not enter.” It was secured by an old fashioned key-lock. It took me almost three minutes to pick it. That’s not really my specialty. <p>Inside, I got my bearings as I walked up and down aisles of cable boxes, heat and air conditioning units, telephone and electrical boxes. Finally I came to the door I wanted. This door was secured by an electronic lock that matched the ones in our office. I waved my cell phone at it with the recorded RFID and it clicked open. <p>It was a good thing I didn’t just step through. It was an access door, no doubt on the fire department’s list of emergency exits, but it was nearly twelve feet off the ground with no more than a narrow catwalk crossing in front of it. I stepped onto the catwalk and heard the door click shut behind me. <p>Damn. <p>There was no way to open the door from the inside that I could see. I was inside and I’d have to figure out how to get out later. For now, I found my way down a metal stair onto the main floor. <p>The room was two stories high and filled with the equipment and robotics that were required to make credit cards, including warehousing the stock, manufacturing, sealing, and shipping. <p>Sheets of plastic were fed into cutters and trimmed to credit card size. Printing on the front and back was done on a digital press, including laminating holographic images on the front of certain cards. Magnetic strips were applied to the cards and each was treated with an ink-receptive strip for the signature. The cards were then fed through a magnetic recorder that recorded the personal information of the user on the card. From there, the card was fed into a machine where the strip was read and then the card was stamped with the raised numbers and letters that identified the credit card number and customer. <p>I took pictures of the process with the camera built into my tablet and started cataloging the operation. CCS produced private label credit cards for various organizations, including associations and credit unions. It had also developed a side-business of manufacturing gift cards with dollar values for various restaurants and retail outlets. It even subcontracted card manufacturing for larger credit organizations and banks. <p>The magnetic stripe on a credit card contains the necessary information to conclude a transaction. The primary account number embossed on the card is also the leading information on the stripe. It includes the name of the cardholder, the expiration date, the Verification number or CCV Code, and the address and zip code of the cardholder. Of course the information is encoded so you can’t simply run it through a tape recorder and read the info, but one of the cleverest schemes for pirating accounts has been to have a thin card reader inserted into a regular bank station like an ATM machine or gas pump. Usually a cleverly concealed camera is focused on the keypad so that the thief can record the keying of the PIN as they capture the information from the magnetic stripe. It’s quick and efficient. <p>It also goes undetected for a long time. A compromised account can be hoarded by a thief for weeks or even months before use. That gives the thief time to collect a huge amount of data and then remove all trace of his equipment before it is discovered. It makes it almost impossible to identify the source of the compromise. <p>As I watched the machines doing their thing, I observed an occasional card being rejected at one or another station. The most common rejections occurred before any data was imprinted on the card. The magnetic stripe might not have adhered. The ink might have been smeared. Any number of defects were caught by inspecting equipment in a fraction of a second and led to immediate rejection of the card. <p>Further down the line, a card might be rejected for failed data recording, duplication, or simply being blank when it got to a place that required data. Each of these failed cards were shuffled to a bin that led to a shredder where rejected cards were chopped to tiny bits to be recycled. <p>After a card passed all its tests, it was put in line for mailing. Based on the card data, a letter was printed, envelope generated, the card attached with a glue spot to the letter, inserted in the envelope, sealed, and bundled for mailing. No human hand had touched it. <p>The few cameras that were in this manufacturing room were focused on the equipment so a technician could visually verify if there were production problems. If there was an equipment malfunction, service or maintenance to be done, or supplies to be refreshed, someone would come through a security door on the 12th floor. Once inside, the operating assumption was the tech belonged there; security did not take responsibility for what authorized people did once they were inside the room. <p>I’d seen what I needed to in this room. I wasn’t happy about exiting onto the 12th floor but my exit back through the mechanicals room was blocked. I headed for the main door into the room and got a shock. It didn’t have a RFID reader to open the door from the inside. It had crash bars that were clearly marked “Emergency Exit. Alarm will sound. Use Keypad.” Next to the door was a ten-key pad with a flashing red light above it. I estimated the location of the card reader on the outside of the door and waved my cell phone at it, transmitting the code, but it was too far away and on the other side of a wall. No signal penetrated. <p>I was stuck. Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-46261371656920723742011-04-26T08:18:00.000-07:002011-11-17T07:18:34.346-08:00Strangely Borne—Part 1<blockquote> <p><em>My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,<br>Which can interpret further: only, I say,<br>Things have been strangely borne.<br>—Macbeth III.vi</em></p></blockquote> <p>Being at an office at nine in the morning after gaming until four is a royal pain. I’m getting too old for this. I was willing to bet that nearly everyone in that game last night was in his teens or twenties except me. The hackers were getting better all the time, and to basically turn a treasure-hunt into a first person shooter game was really rude. I wanted to find out who these guys were, but once they were destroyed, they were erased from the game system. It would have been helpful if the mysterious IGotUrBak had kept them alive for interrogation instead of so completely obliterating them. <p>And that was reason enough to go to the office. <p>It was one thing to have someone in the office monitoring what I did, but to have him poking his nose into the rest of my life was a little uncalled for, even if benign. He’d even proven helpful on a couple of occasions now. But it was still uncalled for. My life was none of CCS’s business. Today was the day I was going to find out who was on my tail. <p>I started by checking to see who was in and who wasn’t. It looked like Ford had spent the night in the office. But his normal position was sleeping at his desk and I wasn’t sure if he even had a home to go to. I swung by Arnie’s office and Darlene caught my attention. <p>“He’s in exec meeting this morning. Can you wait till after lunch to see him?” <p>“Not a problem. I was just stopping by to update him,” I said. Darlene stifled a yawn. “You look tired. Should we be going for coffee?” <p>“These meetings start at 7:00. They just kill me. I’m supposed to get my beauty sleep, not be fetching donuts at 6:30 in the morning.” <p>“Ouch. I barely make it to bed by that time.” <p>“Mmmm. Hope staying up late is for pleasure.” <p>“Sort of. About that coffee…” <p>“No. I have to run interference at 10:00 when they take their ten minute break. Phil looked like he could use coffee when I saw him. Said his 3-month old kept them up all night last night.” <p>“I’ll stop by and check.” I headed Phil’s direction, but detoured by Don Abrams’ office. It would be interesting to see if anything was happening in the area of Network Security. Don was in jeans and a polo shirt, a baseball hat pulled down low as he stared at his screen. “Hey Don,” I greeted him. “Did I miss the memo on casual Tuesday?” <p>“I haven’t been home to change yet. We had a hack attack on the network at 3:30 this morning. I got a call from my team and have been here since 4:00. Didn’t take time to shower and dress up before work.” <p>“What area did they hit?” <p>“That’s the thing. It looks like they were mostly interested in getting inside. Once they were in, they disappeared as quickly as they entered. It was like they all just unplugged their computers from the network at the same time.” <p>“All? How many were there?” <p>“Half a dozen. Looked like they were marauding and just trying to hack through firewalls. Maybe a contest to see who could get through first. We’re looking at the possibility that they are just testing a new approach in getting through and didn’t really have a reason to be there thought out in advance. They were gone before we got an address for them or could isolate the signatures.” <p>“Sounds nasty,” I said. So the invasion of my six pursuers had triggered an alarm in the system. It sounded like they just retreated, but the message that had come up on my dashboard led me to believe someone inside had expelled them. Still Don seemed to have no knowledge of this. I decided to stick my head into Allen Yarborough’s office. You’d think the System Administration Manager would have been called about the security breach, but Allen’s office was closed and the lights were out. It didn’t look like he’d come in yet. <p>There was just one other person I was interested in this morning. I still didn’t know what kind of work she did. I went up to the 26<sup>th</sup> floor and strolled by Jen Roberts’s office. She was just walking out the door. She was dressed sharply in a blue pinstriped suit with a white silk blouse buttoned to the throat. She was carrying a file and nearly tripped into me. <p>“Oh, Dag! Just the person I wanted to see. Were you coming to see me?” <p>Jen was brighter and more cheerful than I’d seen her on any other occasion. She must have had a good weekend. I’d avoided her all day on Monday. <p>“I was just stopping by to get some pointers on filling out a travel request. Ford tells me you are a stickler on setting up cost/benefit analysis and I wanted to find out how you prefer to see travel estimates put together.” <p>“I’m a stickler with Ford because he submits a travel request every three weeks. If I approved half of them, that would still be four times the team’s entire budget. If you have travel that will advance your work for your boss, just ask him for a travel approval and he’ll sign it for you. You don’t need to bring it to me unless you particularly need it to be discussed and approved in our team meeting.” <p>“Well, that’s good to know. Did you want to see me about something?” <p>“Yes. You wouldn’t happen to have been headed out for coffee would you?” <p>“I was thinking about it. Most of our team seems to be whacked out of their minds with lack of sleep, but no one was interested in taking a break.” <p>“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “Let’s take a walk.” <p align="center">*** <p>Unlike the others I’d been out for coffee with, Jen avoided the long walk down the hill to the Daybreak. Instead we entered a bank building on Third and went to the atrium where an independent vendor did a good business all day long with people in suits. I noticed the price of a cup of coffee was about 30% higher than down the hill. Jen had grabbed an umbrella from the stand next to our building entrance to keep the light rain off her perfectly coifed hair and silk blouse. But once we hit the marble of the atrium her wet high heels slid and I caught her in a position that was neither ladylike on her part nor chivalrous on mine. I couldn’t help but notice that she eschewed anything that would strap her in. <p>“Let’s just pretend that little embarrassment didn’t occur shall we?” she said once she’d straightened up. <p>“I’m sorry…” I started. She held a hand up to silence me. <p>“Didn’t occur.” <p>“Right.” We got our coffees and found a wrought iron table near the three-story windows. If you were high enough, you could see the Sound out the upper part of the windows, but where we were, there was nothing outside but tree planters. “You have something in that file you wanted to go over with me?” <p>“No. Carrying the file was just a prop to get an impromptu meeting with you. I want to talk to you about last night.” That was a surprise. First, she was the only person I’d seen this morning that didn’t look like she’d been up all night. Second, I didn’t think she could possibly have information that Don didn’t have and he showed no interest in talking to me. Third, I didn’t think she had the technical skill to hack the systems. She seemed more like a numbers person to me. <p>“What about last night?” <p>“Forgive me, but you were behaving oddly, and I couldn’t help but notice. I live in West Seattle. I went for a jog and saw you sitting in a coffee shop. I was going to stop and say hello, but you seemed intensely involved in something. You were carting around more computer hardware than most of us have on our desks.” <p>“Oh.” She didn’t know about the intrusion at all. This was completely off the record. “I was setting up some new gaming equipment.” <p>“Gaming? As in gambling?” <p>“No. RPG. That’s a role-playing game. People from all over the country gather together online to participate in a gamemaster’s storyline. I was running a game last night.” <p>“Not just locals?” <p>“I don’t really know where most of them are from. They sign on with their gaming alias and we play. Last night we played until quite late?” <p>“Yes. Do you always have someone trailing you?” <p>“Trailing me?” <p>“The guy in black with a Nike jacket on. Seahawks cap. Text messaging all the time.” <p>“Didn’t even see him.” There was a guy following me? I wracked my brain trying to visualize who was in that coffee shop. I couldn’t call him to mind. <p>“It was intriguing. Made me curious as to why he was following you, so I followed along.” <p>“You were following me last night?” <p>“Oh no. Even in running sweats, if I had been following you, you would have noticed me. I followed him.” I shivered just a little thinking about the parade of followers behind me. Was someone following Jen? I could just imagine her in sweats, jogging along. All right, I’d definitely have noticed. I put that image out of my mind. <p>“It must have looked pretty strange.” <p>“I gave up when you caught the bus to the airport and called a taxi to take me home. Did you come to work straight from your game?” <p>“No. I slept…” I didn’t want to tell her exactly when I ended the game if she didn’t already know. People up at certain hours of the night when other things were happening at those hours would be too easy to connect. “…a few hours before I showered and dressed for work. By the time I got on that bus, the game was beginning to wind down.” <p>“And how many others on our team were playing your game with you?” There it was. She was suspicious. <p>“None that I’m aware of. Like I said, people log in with their gaming alias. I don’t try to track down the real identity. Could be the whole company was playing. Were you?” <p>“Though I try not to be blatant, I don’t play games.” She looked me intently in the eyes and I could see more than a professional interest. Her lips curled into a smirk. After an awkward silence of a few seconds, she changed to a more professional tone. <p>“You should know that you arrived on the scene at CCS in the midst of an intense power struggle. The company is closely held, but the founders and majority stockholders have been at this for 25 years. They’re getting tired of playing Caesar and are looking around every corner for potential assassins. That includes your boss and mine. It’s clear to me that neither of us was brought here to do the job for which HR has a description. What’s less clear is that we may not have been brought to do the job our bosses described either. Watch your back. It could be a setup.” She let me soak that in for a minute while she finished her coffee. A lot of what she said suddenly fit with my suspicions. “Let’s get back to work.” <p>She stood and casually tossed her cup in a bin. She walked carefully across the marble floor, put up her umbrella and marched out into the rain. <p align="center">***</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-78598960999486589592011-04-26T07:58:00.000-07:002011-11-18T08:00:31.138-08:00Something Wicked<blockquote><p><em>By the pricking of my thumbs,<br />
Something wicked this way comes.<br />
—Macbeth IV.i</em></p></blockquote><p>It was ten after seven when I called Andi. It wasn’t a happy call. <p>“Hey! I cooked. When are you going to be here?” I loved the sound of her voice. <p>“Um, I got a little tied up at work,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ll make it.” <p>“Tied up?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice and it broke my heart. <p>“Well, it’s more like locked in.” <p>“Can’t you call someone to let you out?” <p>“I’m locked into a room that I’m probably not supposed to be in.” <p>“Probably?” <p>“Definitely.” <p>“Dag, what do you do for a living?” Andi was trying to make light of the situation while hiding her disappointment. <p>“I guess there’s nothing for it but to tell you. I’m a spy.” <p>“And the government has sent you undercover in a credit card company because they are suspected of manufacturing weapons of mass destruction.” She was taking it well, but I had to be truthful with her. I wasn’t planning to make a practice of getting locked in places I shouldn’t be, but it was pretty likely that in the course of my career I’d be unable to keep personal appointments. It was just the nature of the business. <p>“Andi, you know I got a contract here, and that I’m not an employee, right?” <p>“Yes. I thought you were troubleshooting a computer network glitch.” <p>“More or less, that’s the story they gave out. I’m investigating ways to improve network security. But the truth is they sent me in here to find out who has their fingers in the till. I’m trying to track down someone who’s stealing from the company.” <p>“It’s never going to end, is it?” she said softly. “I thought the thing with Henderson was just because it personally affected you.” It was true that the Henderson case was personal. My retirement funds were part of the money that was missing. But the deeper into computer forensics I got, the more likely I’d be dealing with cases like this. <p>“Well, when it looks like you’re an expert in a field, then others line up to use you, I guess.” What’s an expert anyway? As far as I could tell, it’s just a guy who guesses right twice in a row. <p>“What can I do? Can I bring you dinner? No I suppose that won’t work unless you’re just locked in the women’s restroom. You aren’t are you? I didn’t think so. Is there an outside latch I could open? Should I call someone for you? I could create a distraction outside the office if you need.” Andi had suddenly shifted into Cali mode. I understood now that it was a method of coping with information that was flooding her brain. I became just a little more aware of how her daughter’s mind worked. <p>“Andi, I’ll find a way out of here. It just might take me a while. I don’t do a dangerous job, I just got stuck. I’m sorry I can’t join you for dinner.” I really was sorry. Right now I couldn’t imagine what I was thinking in doing this before I went home tonight. It’s that single-mindedness that takes over when I start working on a puzzle. <p>“Me too.” I could hear the hurt in her voice and it had to match my own. I couldn’t ignore the way she made my heart race, even over the phone. <p>“Andi, is this serious?” <p>“Oh no. I’ll eat my share of dinner and the rest I’ll refrigerate. Cali always comes home from rehearsal hungry.” <p>“I don’t mean dinner, Andi. I mean us. Are we really more than friends? Because I think I’m falling in love with you and if you think I shouldn’t, I’d like to know that before it gets worse.” <p>“Really?” <p>“Yes.” <p>“I’m glad you said that before we had sex. I mean, not that we’re going to have sex. Yet. It’s just nice to know that you feel that way before, or without, or… I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” she blurted out. That surprised me. Then again, maybe it shouldn’t I’d been feeling closer and closer to her for months. I could feel my face stretch into a grin. <p>“I’m really sorry I’m not there for dinner now.” <p>“If you get lonely, all locked up there by yourself, you can call me anytime.” <p>“Thanks. I should get started figuring out a way to get out of here. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” <p>“Yeah. Later.” <p>Oh yeah. Later. <p align="center">*** <p>I needed to get out of this room. I was almost willing to crash the doors and let the alarm sound. Almost, but not quite. It was just that the thought of Andi saying she’d loved me… I really needed to get out of here. <p>I could see the setup pretty clearly. As with most robotic manufacturing rooms, this one was extremely clean and the air conditioning kept it at about 68 degrees if I judged the temperature correctly. Some of the equipment generated a lot of heat. The robots were controlled by their own set of computers in a room on one side that I guessed was probably kept even colder. These computers were not on the company network or a part of the cloud. In order to keep customer data protected, the secure computers had no connections to the Intranet or Internet. The workstations in the offices on the 12th floor were slaves to these powerful computers. I’d have to do some investigating to find out how information on customers was eventually connected to billing and customer service. There had to be a physical medium involved since these weren’t connected to the network. <p>The room room with the computers was also secured behind a door with a keypad lock. With the information that I now possessed, I knew that if I had the keypad code, I could steal all the customer data I wanted from the company and it was unlikely it would be detected for weeks or even months. Unfortunately, I lacked the keypad code, so it was a moot point. <p>I had few options. I was sealed in a locked room. <p>I went back to observing how the equipment worked to see if there was a way I could use any of it. There was a freight elevator that had a door on this floor, but the call buttons had the same keypad lock on them that the doors had. Apparently all raw materials came up in that elevator and all finished letters went down in it. There were no apparent robotics for moving the boxes of finished mail that were stacked on palettes as they came off the conveyor belt. That meant that workers had to enter the room at some point to load the material in the elevator and actually do the shipping at the post office. The palettes were nearly full, so I began to wonder what time the night shipping crew arrived. <p>I looked for all the usual ways to get out of a room. The heating ducts and air vents were twenty feet overhead. The few places where the ceiling was only one story high were behind locked doors like the computer room. I sat in a corner near the door and pulled out my tablet, connecting remotely to my company laptop in the office. From there I began searching for access codes in the manufacturing center. Wherever they were located, they were well-guarded. It looked like I’d found the one truly secure place in the company. <p>So I started thinking about how a thief could capitalize on this security. I’d always thought that a thief would try to spot the least secure access to what they wanted. But perhaps that was the wrong attitude. The most secure part of a system could become the weakest simply because of its impregnability. With access to this room, I could have access to any credit card being created on the system. If I waited until the card was packaged and ready for mailing, I could have the card, the cardholders address, and the security information. Technically, it was a postal offense since the last machine in the line stamped postage on the sealed envelopes. If I was stealing credit cards, I don’t think I’d hesitate at robbing the postal system. <p>But there were other options as well. I could launch an attack on an entire range of cards, in fact, essentially make cards that appeared valid, by just taking one good card off the conveyer belt. It was called a BIN attack. The Bank Identification Number is contained in the first 12 digits of a credit card. With one card, especially a newly released card, I could simply change the last four digits of the card, keep the same expiry date, and advance the CCV code. Five sequential cards would show me any variance the system had put in place to keep customer codes and CCV codes from advancing at the same pace. I could sit at a computer and order cash advances on each of my dummy cards for an hour, close my accounts and strip my computer of all records, then fly to South America with the cash. <p>I’d always held that if I was in the same room as a computer, I could own all the data on the computer. This was a step up. Being in the same room with the manufacturing equipment for bank cards, I could own a slice of the banking world. <p>Back on the tablet, I changed my search parameters for the log of who went through the security doors into this room. I assumed that it was limited to the technicians who did maintenance on the equipment and the shipping clerks who moved the raw materials and finished products in and out of the room. But there was always a chance that someone else was helping themselves to untraceable credit card information. I concluded my search parameters by having the results emailed to me at one of my POP accounts and erase the search spiders from the network. I didn’t want to leave evidence on the company laptop. <p>Before I got results back from the search, I heard the electronic lock on the door next to me click. I flattened myself back behind the frame where I was partially sheltered from a direct sightline. Two technicians in white lab suits opened the door and headed straight for the shipping area. Before the door snapped closed, I’d squeezed out through it and was in the hall. I scraped my miniature RFID reader off the bottom of the card reader and got out of Dodge. <p align="center">*** <p>I didn’t stay around to see if the cameras had picked me up. As long as I hadn’t tripped any alarms, the video would never be looked at. I went to the main lobby, switched elevators and flashed my ID at the elevator’s after hours reader to head to my 23rd floor office. It should look like I had just come back to the office to pick something up. Tomorrow was my day to work remotely, so I needed my equipment. <p>I closed things up, took the laptop and headed up the hill. On the way I called Andi. <p>“’Lo?” Her voice sounded groggy and I glanced at my phone. Damn! It was nearly midnight. She’d been asleep. <p>“Sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you.” <p>“Dag? Are you okay?” <p>“Yes. Just wanted to let you know I got out and am on my way home.” <p>“Okay. Stop by before you go up.” <p>“You don’t need to get up. You can just go back to sleep.” <p>“No. I really want to see you. Don’t knock. I’ll watch for you at the door.” <p>“Okay. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” <p>It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. By comparison, my time in the manufacturing room had flown by. I was panting up a storm by the time I’d walked up across the freeway on Olive and turned onto Summit to get home. I passed the giant sequoia in front of my building and practically ran up Andi’s steps. I was huffing and puffing like crazy after the fast walk uphill. <p>True to her word, Andi opened the door as soon as I stepped up on the porch. She was wearing a plush bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, but it looked like she’d just brushed out her hair. <p>“You really didn’t have to wait up for me,” I said as she came into my arms. <p>“Shh. I don’t think Cali’s asleep. I didn’t wait up. I was a sleep. But I wanted to see you.” <p>“Not that I object, but why so urgent?” <p>“Because I said something on the phone that I shouldn’t have.” My heart fell. There was only one thing she’d said that I could think she might regret. I braced myself for the worst. She looked me straight in the eyes and I nearly fell into them. “The first time you tell someone you love them, it should be face to face, not on the phone. I love you, Dag Hamar.” With that, she closed the distance between us and pressed her lips against mine. I was lost in her kiss. When we parted, I caught my breath for a moment then started to speak. <p>“Andi…” She pushed her finger against my lips. <p>“Shhh. I don’t want any ‘me toos.’ When you tell me, I want it to be first.” With that she kissed me again and pushed me toward the door. “Sweet dreams, Dag,” she said, brushing my ear with her lips. I stumbled across the lawn to my own back steps and looked back in time to see the porch light go out. <p>Sweet dreams, indeed.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-76441785506920375582011-04-26T07:42:00.000-07:002011-11-16T07:43:37.625-08:00I am Called<blockquote><p><em>Hark! I am call’d; my little spirit, see,<br />
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.<br />
—Macbeth III.v</em></p></blockquote><p>I don’t suppose there is a hacker alive who hasn’t spent time in the gaming world. Probably a lot of time. Gaming keeps them sharp, and they develop long-term attachments and respect for each other. <p>Back in the good old days, online gaming was limited to Bulletin Board Systems where the gamer entered his character and attributes, then chose what to do in the world that evolved. It was nearly all text based. But just reading those lines—turn right, take two steps, strike, run—were enough to put real images in the player’s mind. That’s where I learned to visualize the Internet. We played on the Internet before the World Wide Web put a visual interface on it. When the world turned to animation graphics and avatars, half the fun went out of seeing it all through your own eyes. Gaming lost some of its appeal for hardcore hackers. <p>Most people aren’t aware that there are still hardcore text-based games available on-line. They are run by hackers, for hackers, and half the fun is getting inside someone else’s game and wreaking havoc. <p>When I posted my simple message to my gaming board, it was a challenge to all comers to play a treasure-hunt game. By posting it from the laptop in my office, I issued the challenge to my watcher—or maybe to everyone on my team if they were all watching me. Now I was going to find out who showed up. <p align="center">*** <p>I left the office before lunch. Frankly, I was past caring who knew if I was working or not. It seemed like everyone already knew I wasn’t hired to do the job I was hired for. Like that made sense. Besides, I needed some additional equipment if I was going to run a game tonight. <p>I used the excuse that my computers were impounded to head out to one of the local big box stores and buy the biggest, baddest, gamer laptop that I could find. I considered buying one of those roll-aboard suitcases to carry it in rather than trying to drag it around. While I was there, I ran up my credit card a little higher and bought the latest tablet model with as much memory as I could get in it. <p>The nice thing is that I didn’t need much in the way of software, and I didn’t need my own network to run the game. All the software is in the cloud, and frankly, the entire Internet was going to be our game-board. I could use the two computers together if I needed to by using the cell linkup to get to the Internet with the tablet, then tethering the laptop to it. It was going to be as fast as using a WiFi connection and I wasn’t going to be sitting still so I couldn’t depend on a wired connection of any kind. By 5:00, I was sitting in a coffee shop in West Seattle, about ready to start the game. My cell phone rang and I answered Andi with less abruptness than I’d used a few nights ago. <p>“Hello girlfriend,” I said. What a difference a week… no, make that five days makes. <p>“Ooo. A girl could get used to that.” <p>“I hope she does.” <p>“What are you up to tonight?” I had no qualms about doing my own thing tonight, though if Andi had suddenly offered to meet me for dinner, I’d probably have called off the whole game. I knew, though that she taught an Adult Ed class on Monday nights, so I just went with my plans. <p>“I’m running a game tonight online. It promises to be rather informative.” <p>“Going to Neverland,” she laughed. <p>“I’m actually looking to make more progress tonight. I’d like to get to Maybeland.” Hmmm. That probably had more than one meaning. There was a sequence of lands a relationship could go through. We’d already broken through Neverland in our relationship, but, of course, that wasn’t what she was asking about. <p>“You aren’t going hunting for the missing money again, are you?” It was a point she disagreed with me on. I was determined to close the loop on the question of where the money went when the boss stole it. It doesn’t just evaporate. What does it mean when you say you lost money on a deal? Who found it? Where did it go? I was going to be the one who found it. <p>Andi supported me through that latest collapse in my life, just as she had supported me when I lost Hope. But she had always challenged my thinking. <p align="center">*** <p>“You were awful pleased with yourself when you brought down the company president,” she’d said. <p>“Well, maybe I was a little too happy to find the evidence that would put him behind bars,” I admitted. <p>“You giggled like a little girl.” <p>“Okay, you’re right. But that is nothing like the celebration that will happen when I find the money. That Costa Rican seaside mansion she’s living in is going to turn into a cardboard box on the beach when I’m done.” Bitter about Hope leaving me to move up the food chain and marry my CEO? Who me? <p>“Don’t tell me things like that,” Andi said. “Even in jest. They might call me in to testify against you.” <p>“Hmm. I might have to marry you then, just so you won’t have to testify against me.” <p>“Trade my corner of Paradise for your living hell? I don’t think so.” She made a good point. I’d let the plundering of Henderson Associates eat at me for months, especially since none of my so-called friends from the company would talk to me anymore. I’d let up on the search, but I couldn’t help it if occasionally it drew me back. <p align="center">*** <p>“It’s different this time,” I said. “I’m not really after the money, though if it shows up, I won’t object. What I’m really trying to do is flush out my quarry at CCS. I’ve set up a pretty good proposition for the game tonight and I’m seeing who rises to the occasion. You know, that’s the job I was hired to do there.” <p>“Mmmm. Okay. You know I worry about you. There’s been too many SciFi movies about people who play a game, but when they die in the game they really die. I don’t believe it, but it still creeps me out.” <p>“Well, tell me what you’re doing tonight,” I suggested. English Literature was always good for calming the turmoil. <p>“I’m pretending to teach 20<sup>th</sup> Century American Literature while disguising the fact that I’m doing basic language development for Adult ESL students.” <p>“So you’re playing a game?” <p>“That pretty well sums it up,” she laughed. “They really don’t know anything at this level.” <p>“That’s why they come to your classes,” I admonished. She’d used the same line on me the day we met. <p>“Mea culpa. I admit to being almost as human as you.” We laughed. “So would you like to have dinner tomorrow after work? Cali’s in dress rehearsal. I’d love company.” Her voice sounded hesitant—a little shy. I smiled. <p>“Ms. Marx, are you asking me on a date?” <p>“I guess so,” she said. “Damn it! Don’t make this any harder than it is.” <p>“Andi, I would love to have dinner with you. Anytime. I really can’t wait to see you.” <p>“Really?” <p>“Really.” <p>“Well, I’d better get to class, and you’d better get into cyberspace. Don’t forget an oxygen tank!” <p>“I’ll see you tomorrow night. ’Bye.” <p>“’Bye.” I bit my tongue as we disconnected. I’d almost said ‘I love you.’ Grade A number one mistake according to all the dating manuals. We’d had two dates and a group barbecue this weekend. ‘Do not rush it!’ I lectured myself. <p>It was time to start the game. <p align="center">*** <p>By 7:00 I’d logged over a dozen players onto the game. Those who were new had picked their avatars and generated their power levels. I recognized several I’d played with in the past on other games. Another half dozen players registered within the first half hour and set out on their quest. <p>I’d developed this game to send people out into an Internet multiverse searching for a combination of factors that would reveal $3.2 billion secreted in the account of some very wealthy man whose net worth read only $12.7 million. The lure was that it was real money and there was a 10% finder’s fee if it was all recovered. Some games are written to inspire competition and some to inspire cooperation. If a registered player discovered the money, even if it was done outside the game, the finder’s fee was to be split among all the registered players. This meant it was to everyone’s advantage for someone to find the prize. As much as I could make it, I’d ensured there was no reason beyond gaming pride to compete with each other. <p>It was a big shock to me, then when two players were killed. <p>I got two equally angry flames in my inbox almost at the same time. These were good, long-term players I’d known online for years. <p>“Somebody’s playing to make sure we lose,” I answered both players. “I’m giving you a resurrect with a level 10 power source. I’d appreciate it if you two would flank me. It looks like we’ve got incoming.” <p>“I’ve got your six, CyberTalon,” the gamer named DeepSix shot back. The other, CyClops, went silent and I wasn’t sure if he’d left the game in a huff or if he was pursuing his own line. <p>A point about being a gamemaster is that it is impossible to kill me. Someone has to continue the game. However, it is possible to cripple or capture me, putting my power in the hands of someone else until another player comes along and frees me or until my servitude expires based on the power of the one attacking me. Online games are really nothing more than capture the flag in cyberspace. <p>I didn’t like the look of the approaching party. Three indistinct shapes came toward us from each direction. There was no good reason in a treasure-hunt game to approach the location of the gamemaster. I threw up shields just in time to ward off a blast attack. I wrapped an invisibility cloak around myself and DeepSix and transported to my north tower. As soon as I was there, I unplugged from the network and closed up my computer. It was time to move. <p align="center">*** <p>I didn’t usually move this far south, but I’d spotted a bus to the airport with on-board WiFi the third time I had to move. I was working hard to log on through different networks. The game had clearly devolved into two combative armies, each trying to stymie the other’s efforts to complete the quest. My own held more players and on average a little more power than the opposition. Each soldier in my army had already been killed once by the opposition and resurrected by me. The other side had collected a couple more people into its sphere, so there were nine. I had thirteen on my team, plus myself. I’d boosted each of their power levels. We split into two segments and I sent the top three gamers I knew on the quest. The rest of us continued to face off with the enemy. We could never see all of them at the same time, so there was no way to be sure if we were facing all of them at once or just a portion while the rest hunted treasure. <p>I used a whirlwind dispersal just before the bus arrived at the airport, sending my troupes in different directions with enough fuel to make a jump when I called them back. The attacks of the enemy were growing in power. I was getting pretty sick of them, but in the gameworld, the game ceases to exist if the gamemaster breaks the rules. Still, in spite of the diversions I was creating, it seemed that the enemy was intent on capturing me. They were picking up my trail faster than I could cover it. My ruse of jumping from network to network for access wasn’t shaking them up. After thirty minutes in the business center at baggage claim in the airport plugged into an Ethernet port under the desk and power to recharge the monster laptop, I realized I was going to have to come up with some new techniques. They were closing in again. I disconnected, ran out of the airport and headed for the train into town. <p>A good part about connecting on a bus or train was that you connect through a single network while on the move physically. The disadvantage was that if the opponent could identify what the network was, then they’d know your route to the next location. I elected not to log on while on to the Metro network as the train sped me back into town. I used the cellular connection when it was available to get messages to my troupes, instructing each to head out on their own. It was obvious now that the enemy was after me. I felt it likely that the rest would not attract attention while the enemy focused its forces on me. I didn’t know who these guys were, but they were getting on my nerves and I was about to make a big leap. I shutdown again until the train pulled into the University Street Station in the tunnel. <p align="center">*** <p>The Seattle Public Library closes at 8:00 p.m., but I hiked up the hill anyway. I circled around to the north side and entered the parking garage under the library. Even though the library is closed, they don’t shut down the computer system overnight. It was three o’clock in the morning and I was pretty tired by this time. I climbed up to the top level of the garage and positioned myself next to the elevator shaft. Then I turned on the computer and connected to the library WiFi. I didn’t bother with the laptop, but took advantage of the long battery life on the tablet and used the virtual keyboard to tap out my commands. This time, I used remote access to get back to my laptop in the CCS office and logged onto the game from there. We’d see how good these bastards were at getting through a major corporate firewall to attack me. <p>I had a message on my dashboard as soon as I connected. “I got my eye on you.” It was CyClops’ tagline, and even though I’d seen him in the game only sporadically, it was comforting to know he was still watching. DeepSix was nowhere around as far as I could tell. <p>I scanned the area around me. I was in a beautiful glass tower from which I could see infinitely in any direction. It was beginning to look like I was safe, but before long, I could see the remainder of the enemy approaching the tower. They circled it at first, but then all gathered on one side. I was monitoring the other players, many of whom were dropping out because of the lateness of the hour. I was pretty exhausted myself. I told them I’d call a time again soon and we’d focus on finding the treasure rather than fighting a war. I’d be more careful who I let register to play. This was supposed to be about finding the missing money and possibly having the side effect of identifying who in CCS had decided to come out to play. That would tell me who was reading my keyboard in the office. <p>I suppose that pre-occupation was why I didn’t see the enemy until they’d materialized right in front of my face, inside the firewall—inside my tower. There’s a sequence involved in terminating the game, unlike simply going invisible. I started frantically typing in the code, but I knew it was going to be too late before I could execute it. I was about to be captured. <p>There was a blinding flash of light in front of me. My shields held, but I was pretty much crippled and in the dark. I kept entering the code to terminate play for the night. Just before I hit enter, a message appeared on my dashboard. <p>“IGotUrBak.” <p>Who were these guys?</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-76292384541115678092011-04-25T07:42:00.000-07:002011-11-15T07:43:52.869-08:00Yet but Young<blockquote><p><em>Come, we’ll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse<br />
Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:<br />
We are yet but young in deed.<br />
—Macbeth III.iv</em></p></blockquote><p>Monday morning I walked into the office at CCS feeling even more naked than my shaved face. For the first time I could remember in recent years, I wasn’t carrying a computer with me. The police still had my office under lock and key, much to the surprise of the people who shared the rest of the house. I’d received a call from Daniel’s counselor, Janna, before I even got to CCS both thanking me for the work I’d done and asking to be briefed on anything I could provide that didn’t breach a confidence but that she could use in counseling him. She was almost speechless when I told her what I’d discovered and why my office was taped off. <p>“I can’t believe it. I wish I’d sent him to you so much sooner. I just can’t believe that it was a stalker and not just a bully—not that that wouldn’t have been bad enough.” <p>“It wasn’t your fault,” I calmed her. “Besides, it’s likely that if it had come to my attention earlier, I’d have missed the solution. It just happened that another project I was working on gave me a lead on where to pursue this one.” <p>“Nonetheless, I won’t hesitate to send cases your direction. Anything I can do for you, I’ll be happy to.” That struck a chord with me. <p>“Say, now that you mention it, there is something I’d like to ask you,” I said. “I don’t suppose you give any classes in dealing with teenagers, do you?” <p>“It would take longer to teach that kind of class than for the kid to grow out of his teens. Do you have something specific?” <p>“I’m concerned about a friend—well, the daughter of a friend—actually the daughter’s friend.” I explained casually as I could. That certainly wasn’t a great start. It sounded like I was covertly asking about myself. “I’m wondering if certain behaviors that we’ve observed might be indicators of something more significant or if it’s just part of growing up.” Janna encouraged me to tell her what was on my mind, so I plunged ahead. I explained some of what Cali told me about Mel and my own observations. This technically wasn’t part of my contract with Cali and I was not using any names, so I felt secure in the idea of not betraying a confidence. The counselor then gave me some pointed advice. <p>“What you’ve described could simply be a part of growing up. Kids act out all the time. But you’ve described a couple of things that I’d explore if I were counseling the kid. Ultrastrict parents aren’t necessarily a sign that a kid is under duress. We see lots of Asian kids that handle the pressure of strict parents without much trouble. Their problems are more likely to be in socialization. But sometimes, when combined with other things we’d revise that opinion. Your teen sounds like she’s an over-achiever. Several sports, straight As, and a party attitude. Her vulgarity could just be a response to pressure to cut loose. But the idea that she has ‘many freaky on-line friends’ as you said, makes me think she could be treading on dangerous ground. Sometimes a kid that aces everything and is fully self-assured will expose herself to more risks than normal simply because she figures she can handle it. It’s definitely worth looking into, especially since she might be leading a friend down the same path.” <p>I thanked her profusely and said I’d check a few things. If I needed further advice, I’d be sure to give her a call. <p align="center">*** <p>When I walked into the office at CCS, I was still thinking about the conversation with the youth counselor. I was going to need to look through Mel’s social accounts. But today, I was going to have to do something about my search for a fraud inside a credit card company that I’d already grown to dislike. And I was going to have to do it without my own computer and tools. <p>I started thinking about something Lars taught me back in the Navy. He set up a drill in training in which we were to track down an intruder and neutralize the suspect. We—a team of six intelligence trainees—were locked in a room with our backs to each other and told to use the resources at hand to track down the culprit. We were scanning all available files on our network, looking for a breach. We quickly divided up the tasks among us and started our search. It was frantic. Lars hadn’t given us an exact deadline for finding the problem, but alluded to the fact that if we didn’t find the security breach soon, the damage would be irreparable. It was a typical war games scenario and we occasionally tossed information back and forth among us to help the search with others. We were nearly an hour into the search having found pointers, but not being able to locate the problem. <p>I suddenly became aware that the room was quieter than it had been before. I glanced to my left and right to see four of my team slumped over their computers. I spun around to see a silenced sidearm pointing in my direction. The last of my teammates was behind the gun smiling at me. The door to our room opened and Lars walked in. The other four team members sat up at their computers. <p>“You all failed to achieve your mission objective,” Lars stated. “All except Ensign Cooper. Why did you fail?” <p>“We weren’t looking for a physical threat,” I answered. “We were looking for an online threat.” <p>“Which is why you were vulnerable. You let yourselves believe that because you are computer analysts, the threat you were looking for was computer-based,” Lars lectured. “If at any time, any of you had looked around, you would have seen a physical threat manifested in the room. You cannot ever assume that you are safe just because you are inside a sealed room. The dangers in this game are not only digital. They are real and physical.” <p>I’d become lax. <p>We live in a digital age. I was hired to find a security leak. I’m a computer geek. It was natural to assume I was looking for something on the network. <p>As my dad would say, “If all your tools look like hammers, then all your problems will look like nails.” <p>I stopped in my office and booted up the laptop just to find out if there were any messages from my secret Santa and to check my email. I wasn’t paying much attention to anything that came through unless it was from one of my team or from Arnie. There was nothing on either count, so I put the computer to sleep and left the office. <p>“Are you done for the day already?” Darlene asked as I passed her desk. “It is only 9:30.” <p>“Not done, but I’m doing some other investigation that requires a little field work. I’ll be in the building, but might not get back here to the office. Call me if I’m in danger of losing my job.” <p>“Which job?” she snarked. “Never mind. If Arnie needs you, I’ll call your cell.” <p>I walked out the security doors past the receptionist and took the elevator to the third floor. The first two floors of this building were occupied by small business and retail. CCS occupied floors 3-26. <p>There was no receptionist on this floor. The elevators opened into a narrow lobby on either end of which were more security doors. I’d walked the building a few days ago, but I hadn’t tested every set of doors. Third floor contained the company’s server farm. If they got any bigger, they would have to move to offsite storage. There were complexes that covered acres of space in Oregon, Idaho, and Montana, housing some of the thousands of servers that made up what was popularly known as “the cloud.” I wasn’t sure my ID would gain access, but when I passed the card over the reader at the door, I was rewarded with the click that allowed me entrance. <p>Once inside, however, I wasn’t positive where I was going. I needed to look fairly self-assured, so I clipped my badge to my jacket pocket where it was clearly visible and walked confidently along a row of outside wall offices. These offices were different from those on the upper floors. There were no windows into the hallway. Each office had a solid oak door behind which, I knew, were the dozens of technicians and analysts that kept the servers running and the company network updated. If the offices had windows, as I assumed they did, they would look over an alley or onto the street. No one on this floor would have a sweeping view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. <p>The inside wall of the hallway was just a blank wall. There were two doors on each hall, each with its own card reader. I casually passed my card over the reader on the first door I came to. There was no answering click and no green light on the reader. Just as I thought. Either by accident or accidentally on purpose, I was not issued a card that would automatically open every door in the company. I’d suspected as much. I couldn’t imagine Arnie giving me access to executive offices, Human Resources, or the server farm, though my network access had revealed no digital blocks. Technically, I should be able to access any one of the servers here without entering the room. But there were areas in the company that had information I could only access physically. One of those areas was on the 12<sup>th</sup> floor. <p>I completed my circuit of the farm and emerged again in the elevator lobby. I went down and out onto the street with my cell phone already dialing the number I’d punched in. Jordan answered on second ring. <p>“What a can of worms you opened up this time,” Jordan announced without even saying hello. “This is going to take us days just to get a case active and warrants issued. How did your client take the news?” <p>“He cancelled every on-line account he had, including his ISP and turned off his computer,” I said. “I should say that his father did. I can’t blame them. I didn’t want to go online again after I found that, either. In fact, I still haven’t been online. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” <p>“Sorry, friend, but I can’t give you access to your computers yet,” Jordan said. “I don’t know how you managed to accomplish everything you did in as short a time as you were working on it. It’s taking our tech hours to document it.” <p>“I appreciate that, but I’m wondering if I can get access to the office without the computers. I need to pick up a couple of things that I need on the CCS gig.” <p>“I don’t see a problem with that. Our impound order only includes the computers currently running and equipment attached to the network. When do you need access?” <p>“As soon as possible. I could be at the office in half an hour.” <p>“I’ll meet you there.” <p align="center">*** <p>Jordan accompanied me into my office and I nodded to the tech who was sitting at my computer recording things into a voice-activated microphone. Behind him and to one side, sat a court recorder, watching to see that all he did was read what was available and did not attempt to change anything. As he spoke his notes, she typed them into the steno machine. <p>One of the first purchases I made when I took this space was a fire-proof locking file cabinet. I looked over the warrant for the computer impound and verified that they were not authorized to touch anything else in my office. Then I unlocked the cabinet, opened the third drawer, and rummaged around a bit. I finally came up with the little tech toy that I wanted and shoved it in my pocket. <p>I went a little overboard when I started as a private detective. I’ve always been into toys, but as soon as you get your license, you start getting mail of all sorts. Catalogs of high tech surveillance equipment, offers of hacking software, classes and courseware from every conceivable educator and part of the world, and—surprisingly—an incredible number of spam emails from people who just shouldn’t send that stuff to private detectives. They provided a great target for investigation with no apparent benefits to themselves. What I wanted now, however, was a tech toy that I’d picked up at SpyCon in March in Vegas. My first time there was a real eye-opener. After I’d strolled through those aisles, the volume of junk mail and email I received quadrupled. <p>What I had in my hand was a miniature RFID reader. <p>The ID card issued to me by CCS was a typical smartcard. In smartcards, there are three active elements. The first is the picture and identification information printed on the card itself—the human-readable part. The second is the gold-colored chip exposed on the back of the card. This exposed circuitry must be in contact with a smartcard reader in order to be activated and is almost impossible to counterfeit. When I slide my card into the reader on my laptop, it sends a randomly generated code to the computer. The computer software compares the code against its table of accepted responses and if all is well and your password matches, you get access to the network. But the third part is invisible. Inside the card is a tiny computer processor. The processor is activated by receiving ambient power from a nearby reader. Upon activation, it sends an encoded message back to the reader via a near-field radio frequency generator. Upon validation that it is a legal code, the requested action is activated. When I wave my ID card at the reader on the security door, it checks my information against the database to see if the card is valid and then unlocks the door. At CCS, the card can be used for much more. I might, for example, deposit funds in an account and when I go to the cafeteria, the account would be charged automatically for my meal. All I need to do is wave the card near the reader. <p>It had seemed like overkill at the time, but was so attractive that I couldn’t help myself. I’d decided to put an RFID reader on my office and program a card to unlock the door. It was a project I hadn’t got around to yet. Now with the reader and a few blank cards in my hands as well as a programming interface, I could essentially copy the RFID portion of my corporate security card. <p>Or, anyone else’s. <p align="center">*** <p>I resumed my walk in the office on the fourth floor, this time carrying a cup of coffee with me. The security cameras would simply record that I had walked the third floor and then went out for coffee. Then I resumed my walk on the fourth floor. I’d done almost the exact same thing on Thursday last week. They might think it strange that I exercised by working my way from the bottom to the top of the company, but I intended to do this every day I was in the office for a while. <p>When I reached the twelfth floor, I paced myself carefully, pausing at one point to tighten a shoelace. When I noticed the security cameras were all apparently pointing away from my target, I moved quickly to the security door ahead, passed my card over the reader and saw, as I expected, that it did not allow admittance, then pressed the miniature reader against the bottom of the card reader. By the time the security cameras had those doors back in their range, I was casually walking on down the hall. I continued to the 14<sup>th</sup> floor and on all the way up to the 26<sup>th</sup> floor. It took nearly two hours altogether. <p>I returned to my desk at noon and opened the laptop, logged in, and stared at the alert box on my screen. “One predator down. What’s our next job? OK.” The question wasn’t answerable. Not that I didn’t have an answer, but there was no way to answer an alert box that disappeared as soon as I struck any key or mouse click. I knew where I was going to lead my backup next. We’d see how good he or she was at tracking me down. <p>I checked email again and responded to a message from Ford about the conference using the computer keypad. I’d avoided using this so far, so I decided to let whoever had bugged the keyboard have a go at me. Once I’d sent the email, I opened a new message and addressed it to one of my POP mail accounts that was automatically forwarded to an account I use for gaming. The message said simply, “3.2 billion in missing funds. Where is it? 7 Pacific.” <p>Now, let the fun begin.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-74923480832915638682011-04-24T08:13:00.000-07:002011-11-14T07:20:08.248-08:00The West Yet Glimmers—Part 2<p>I stood at Andi’s door with an umbrella in hand and she came out, pulling her jacket on. She wore her brown hair down, curling in the humid air until it was less than shoulder length. She called back into the house, “We’ll be back in an hour or so,” and smiled up at me. At five-five she was just lip-height to my six-two frame. I only had to bow my head to meet her lips in greeting. <p>“That’s getting to be easy,” she said happily. She took hold of my right arm with both hands and we stepped off the porch into the rain together, her left hand sliding down my arm to take my hand. There was an almost giddy energy we shared, scarcely able to believe we were dropping the pretense of being “just friends,” and letting ourselves enjoy the glow of a new relationship. <p>We walked north on Boylston, an unspoken agreement between us to walk around Volunteer Park. On the way, Andi asked about my brunch with Mom and I told her some of the revelations that I’d just received. I didn’t mention the part about shaving at night, but I’d filed that away in my mind. <p>“I just can’t believe that I’m 43 years old and I’m still learning things about my parents. I thought I had everything figured out. I lived here all my life.” <p>“It sounds wonderful. My folks died before I could find any interesting things out about them,” Andi volunteered. “It’s wonderful to have stories like that.” <p>“How did they die.” <p>“Auto accident. I was only 17. They didn’t get to see me graduate from high school or college and never met their granddaughter.” <p>“Where did you live?” <p>“Ann Arbor, Michigan. I left the state as soon as I turned 18 and never went back. I just couldn’t stand it.” I remembered Andi’s college was in Florida. <p>“To Florida?” <p>“Um. Yeah. There first. Until Jack died. Then wandering.” <p>“Must have been hard.” <p>“I was young and scared. He left us well-provided for, but it’s still been lonely.” <p>Cali, why did you ever bring doubt to me about this beautiful woman? I just wanted to be lost in the pleasure of holding Andi in my arms. I didn’t want to weigh every word to see if it rang true. How could I? <p>We walked around the west rim of the reservoir and up past the Asian Art Museum. It was still raining, but neither of us cared. We went up the steps to the water tower observatory, but the gate to both entrances was locked. When we stepped into the archway to read the sign posted inside, the wind died and we were sheltered from the rain. I wrapped my arm around Andi and brought her close to me. She raised her face and I kissed her. There was no urgency to our kiss, but a rising sense of passion. We explored each other with all our senses, the arch and umbrella blocking us from view should anyone look up our direction. When we parted, our eyes were glued to each other, seeking affirmation of what we felt in what we saw. We hugged and I buried my face in her sweet smelling hair, letting my lips glide across her cheek and neck. <p>“We’d better get back,” she whispered. “I told Cali and hour or so.” <p>“I think we’re already into the ‘so’ part of that.” We laughed and held each other closely as we walked back down the steps. When we got to Broadway, Andi directed me to a drugstore and we went in. I followed along as she led me down a row of hair color products. She paused in front of a men’s product line and started holding boxes up against my face. <p>“Your mother was right; we need to touch up your roots.” I paid for the hair color—considerably less than a trip to see Sinclair—and we walked on down the hill to her duplex, forgetting to put up the umbrella. <p>“Cali, we’re back!” she called when we went in. “How about some hot chocolate?” <p>Cali bounced into the room and hugged her mother. She laughed at us standing there with water dripping off our faces. <p>“Eww! Looks like you two stayed outside too long,” she said. “Didn’t you have an umbrella?” Andi and I just looked at each other and grinned. “I’ll make the chocolate,” Cali said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you want to change into something dry?” <p>“That’s a good idea. Dag, run home and put on your grungy jeans and a tee shirt, then come back here and the Marx sisters will do your roots.” <p>“I get to be Harpo! Honk Honk.” Cali called from the kitchen. <p>“You couldn’t keep from talking long enough to be Harpo, brat,” Andi scolded. “You’ll have to be Chico. He’s the fast talker.” <p>“We could make Dag Groucho. How much of that hair color did you get? We’ll have to paint most of the mustache on him.” <p>“Okay, I’m going,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” <p align="center">*** <p>Before I left that evening, I’d had my roots touched up, had hot chocolate, leftover ribs from yesterday’s barbecue, and a huge bowl of popcorn as the three of us sat on the sofa watching old movies. I couldn’t remember a day that I’d had more fun and I put all thought of Cali’s contract out of my mind. Perhaps she’d forget about it. I could hope. <p>There was a tense moment halfway through “Horsefeathers” when I turned to Andi and said, “I have tickets to see Two Man Flash at SoDo Friday night. Can I convince you to go with me?” <p>“Aren’t we too old for them?” <p>“Apparently there is a limited age bracket between 21 and 21-and-a-half you have to fit into, but I have a fake ID that says I’m much younger than I am.” I grinned at Cali and saw her roll her eyes. <p>“Oh, but we can’t go hear a band Friday. It’s Cali’s opening.” <p>“I thought…” I stopped myself and looked a silent appeal at Cali. <p>“Mom, I thought you wanted Saturday night tickets.” <p>“And miss the gala?” <p>“Some gala. A glass of three-buck chuck and a Costco vegetable platter. We have three performances and one’s a matinee. I got you guys tickets for closing on Saturday, not opening.” <p>“Are you sure, honey? I never miss one of your openings.” <p>“Mom, really. It’s not like this is a big musical. It’s Shakespeare. Go listen to some good music and then tell me all about it when you get home. I’m so jealous. Or better yet, you do Lady Macbeth and I’ll go with Dag. I love Two Man Flash.” Andi raised a very parental index finger at Cali and wagged it ominously up and down. “Sorry,” Cali squeaked. <p>“Well, if you’re sure, honey.” She turned to me and her eyes crinkled up in merriment. “It sounds like fun!” she mouthed at me. I gave her an extra squeeze. <p>And before I left, I’d shared one more toe-curling kiss with Andi at the door. <p>I felt young and more alive than I’d been in years.</p> Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-41910849235077300772011-04-24T08:03:00.000-07:002011-11-14T07:28:21.991-08:00The West Yet Glimmers—Part 1<blockquote><p><em>The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:<br />
Now spurs the lated traveler apace<br />
To gain the timely inn;<br />
—Macbeth III.iii</em></p></blockquote><p>I was born and raised in Seattle—well, Ballard to be specific. My parents were Swedish immigrants. My father worked on the docks and on the fishing trawlers from the time they arrived until he retired. My mother was an education activist in the Swedish community, establishing a kindergarten program and teaching until she was forced out at 70 years old. That had been last year, and she wasn’t taking it that well. It’s a cruel twist of fate when a couple work all their lives toward their goal of retiring and traveling together and then something like a heart attack in the middle of the night a year after retirement dashes the dreams to pieces. Mom had been alone for nine years now. <p>We talk several times a week and I try to visit at least once a week, but the past two weeks had been so busy that I’d missed lunch with her last Sunday. When she saw me at the door she looked quizzically at me and asked “Yes?” <p>“Mom, it’s me, Dag.” Was she losing it? <p>“What happened to your hair?” I realized she hadn’t seen me clean shaven since I got out of the Navy and I’d completely forgotten that Sinclair had died my hair. <p>“I got a job. I have to look all corporate now.” <p>“A job? Why?” <p>“Well, Mom, I work for a living.” <p>“But your business was doing so well.” Now that was a twist. For the past year she’d been telling me I needed to clean up and get a job while I protested that I was in school and had started a business. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about me becoming an entrepreneur and I’d downplayed the real work, choosing to tell her I repaired computers. “Everyone has computers that need fixed. Mine never does what I tell it to.” That was because she’d never really liked the idea of a computer and didn’t bother to learn how to use it. But it was okay. As much as I thought I’d like to just jot off an email to her sometimes, she really didn’t need computing power. As easy as it was for the elderly to become prey on the Internet, I was just as glad her computer sat in a corner collecting dust. <p>I helped her on with her jacket and we went out to the waiting cab. I don’t drive my car much, and on rainy days not at all. As beautiful as the past four days had been, the wind and rain picked up again during the night and I nearly lost the umbrella I held over her head I held the door open for her. It was a short trip to the Salmon Bay Fish House on the other side of The Cut, but being a lazy Sunday, the driver was content to make short runs for locals. I asked him to pick us up at 2:00 and gave him a generous tip on the $7 fare. <p>Mom always liked to come to Salmon Bay. She could look out at the fishing boats moored at the pier. I think she liked to imagine that Dad would be getting off one of them and come to join us for brunch. I’d tried to take her to some of the other nice restaurants in town for Sunday brunch, but when asked, she always suggested Salmon Bay. <p>We talked about our weeks and I told her a bit about the work I was doing at CCS. I didn’t tell her I was undercover, but I did suggest that it was temporary to fill a specific need and I expected I’d be back in my own business soon. <p>“Maybe they’ll like you. You might be asked to stay.” <p>“I doubt that, Mom. These kinds of jobs don’t usually work that way.” I didn’t add that I wouldn’t go back to work for a corporation even if they did try to hire me. The taste of independence I’d had the past year plus made it hard for me to think about returning to a corporate grind. I’d tried that, thinking it was the road to security and wealth. Then the company I’d invested 15 years of my life in had tanked, thanks to unscrupulous management. Why would I do that all again? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over, expecting different results. I might starve, but I was happy. <p>“Everyone wanted to hire your father,” she continued. “He was a hard worker. Of course, it wasn’t always like that.” That was news to me. I’d only known a father who worked long hard hours every day of his life. <p>“What do you mean?” <p>“Well…” she lowered her voice and glanced around the room conspiratorially, “when we came to America, we were hippies. We never intended to work a day in our lives.” <p>“Mom! You’re kidding!” <p>“No, it’s true. You should know these things now that you’re grown up.” Grown up? I was 43. It seemed like I could have been told about this sometime in the past 20 years. “We got off the boat without even having a proper work visa. We were just tourists on a year-long trip to see the continent like American youths went to Europe. And just as the American teens set Amsterdam in their sites as the drug capitol of the world, we set our sights on San Francisco.” <p>“What happened?” <p>“We met a nice young couple, a little older than we were, who invited us to stay with them on a ranch in Montana. They worked us hard for little food and no money, but they told us that the hippie economy was about to collapse. The only ones who would survive were those who lived communally like we were and regained our native work ethic.” <p>“How did you manage to leave?” <p>“They took periodic trips to San Francisco to recruit new members of what they called their commune, even though they owned everything and only worked the kids they brought in. They made the mistake of assuming they were so far out in the wilderness that we wouldn’t try to leave on our own. But we did. We set all the animals free on the range and walked away the day they went to California. We walked 70 miles to the railroad and walked along it for two days until we came to a place where a freight train was stopped for cargo. We snuck on board and the next time it stopped, we were in Seattle.” <p>I’d never heard about this part of my parent’s life. I thought they came here straight from Sweden and went right to work. My mom was full of surprises. <p>“We couldn’t find a place to live,” Mom continued, “but your father found work on a fishing trawler. For the month it was at sea, I lived in the warehouse and picked up odd jobs doing cleaning and cooking. His first paycheck was enough for us to get a room in a boarding house and a permanent job offer. They weren’t so particular about checking visas back then.” <p>“You were illegal aliens?” <p>“You make it sound like we came from outer space,” she laughed. “We discovered the Swedish-American Center and a legal aide there went to work getting us proper papers and eventually citizenship. I went to college and got my education degree while your father continued to work the fishing trawlers and then the docks. And you came along. We couldn’t complain about that! The next year, Pastor Lundquist at the Swedish Lutheran Church asked me to start a kindergarten. Once we got it straight that there would be no religion taught in my school, I went to work.” I remembered that kindergarten in the basement of the Lutheran Church. I’d gone to it for three years with my mother as teacher. <p>“That’s an amazing story, Mom,” I said. I was to overwhelmed with the information to ask a coherent question. <p>“Well, it’s time you reconnected with your community, Dagget. Come with me to the Center this afternoon and meet people.” <p>“I kind of have an appointment this afternoon, Mom.” I’m not sure why I wasn’t ready to tell her about Andi. It was still too new for me to be sure of what I could say. <p>I’d really been alone now for over five years. I imagined my little black hole of an apartment wasn’t really conducive to having women over. It was a retreat. I’d had a few trysts over that time, but I’d avoided becoming romantically involved. They’d last a few weeks at most and we’d go our separate ways, the girls having never seen the way I live. If they had, I’m sure my time with them would have been even shorter. I wondered why I was suddenly so willing to let myself go with Andi. <p>“You need to get back to your roots,” my mother was saying. <p>“Mom, you always taught me to 100% American. You never wanted any of the kids in school to speak Swedish. You never took me to the SAC when I was growing up. Why should I now?” <p>“I mean your hair,” she smiled. “Your roots are showing. If you are going to color it, you need to keep it touched up.” <p>Damn. I couldn’t afford to go back to Sinclair every week. If this was going to be a problem, the dye-job would be short-lived. <p>“Although it wouldn’t hurt to visit your cousins in Sweden,” Mom continued. “Maybe you could take me so I can visit my sister. I miss the rest of the family.” She made it sound like she missed her sister, but the way her eyes were fixed on the fishing boats at the pier, I could tell it was Dad she was talking about. <p>I paid the check and our cab was waiting for us as promised. On the way to take Mom to the Swedish-American Center, she turned to me very seriously. <p>“You are getting old, Dag.” <p>“Gee, thanks Mom.” <p>“You get up in the morning and shower and shave so you can go to work. That’s what old men do. Young men come home from work, shower, and shave, so they can go to bed.” <p>“Mom!” <p>“Your father showered and shaved at night right up to the day he died.” There was a glistening in her eyes and I thought she was going to cry. I reached over and hugged her. I’d always thought Dad showered and shaved when he came home from work because he worked a dirty smelly job. <p>“I miss him, Dag. Sometimes I hear the clock strike six and I get up out of my chair to go great him at the door. I forget. Don’t wait too long, dear.” We were at the SAC and I asked the driver to wait while I escorted Mom to the door for her Sunday afternoon bingo game. I could smell cookies baking inside and my mouth watered, even though I’d just eaten. I kissed her head. <p>“I’ll see you next week, Mom,” I said. <p>I returned to the taxi and asked him to take me home. I’d told Andi I’d be there about three. <p align="center">***</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-29188743034871169422011-04-23T09:20:00.000-07:002011-11-13T09:23:01.646-08:00Doubtful Joy—Part 2<p>I got to Andi’s house at 4:30 with the barbecue slated to start at 5:30. I’d promised I would come to get the grill going. The police had been to my office and my computers—in fact, my whole office—had been impounded. The entire trace on my searches was subject to rules of evidence and it had to be certified that I had broken no laws in finding what I had. As far as I knew, I hadn’t even encountered a security measure that might be considered suspect. Since I don’t maintain data on my computers, and the police had no warrants for anything that wasn’t resident on the computer itself, there was no reason to fear anything from my past coming to light. Besides, Jordan was leading the investigation and I knew he would be circumspect. <p>But I was totally drained. The discovery left me doubting basic humanity. <p>Four teen boys. God knew how many others had been near. But three had been lured away from their families and later found mutilated and dead. The fourth had never been found. The messages had come, first flaming them on the Internet, destroying their friendships, warning them away from certain parks, restaurants, bars, and finally, one offering help. The boys had sought out the kind voice, and gone to meet with the friend. They’d never been seen again. It was never about sex or orientation. Like always, it was about power. Middle aged, white, male power. Sometimes I hated being associated with such a foul class of humanity. <p>I’d been looking forward to seeing Andi ever since I left her last night. In fact, even in the depths of the discoveries I’d made I had flashes of her smile flit across my mind—tastes of her lips on my lips. Then I was standing at her door. I raised my hand to knock, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt so foul, just having discovered what I did. <p>The door opened before I’d had time to retreat. She stood there, smiling at me, welcoming me into her home and into her arms. We both had a moment’s hesitation before we lost ourselves in the embrace. I smothered myself in her hair, yearning to wipe away all the memories of the day past and start again from where I kissed her last night. <p>She seemed of like mind and when our embrace loosened, she raised her lips and sought mine. <p>We were still tentative. The newness of this relationship was still overwhelming and neither of us wanted to miss one bit of the way it developed. She stepped back away from me and looked me in the eye. She must have seen the fatigue and pain there. Her eyes fell. <p>“Are you okay?” she faltered. “Are we okay?” My God! She thought my fatigue and pain were because of her! I hastened to correct her. <p>“We are great. We are the best thing about my day. We are just beginning. I, on the other hand, just happen to be wiped. It’s been a very bad day.” <p>“Oh dear. Poor baby. Did the bad guys get away?” <p>“No.” She took my hand and I followed her into the living room where we sat down together on the sofa. She cuddled up next to me, an intimacy we hadn’t dared express before today. <p>“Tell me about it.” I couldn’t give her specifics because of police investigations. I told her of the boy and father who had come to me, about getting a clue about where to look for the cyber-bully, and then about the revelation of the predator and involvement of the police. Like the boy’s father, Andi wanted to go directly to her computer and pull the plug out of the wall. She stroked my cheek and soothed me and in a moment we were kissing again. I didn’t think we’d break this time. I was breathless when our lips parted. She pushed me lightly away. <p>“We have company coming,” she said softly. <p>“It’s a good thing,” I answered, breathing deeply. <p>“We need to get ready. Uh… I bought a treat for you. There are ginger snaps on the kitchen counter.” <p>I confess, I’ve had a weakness for ginger snaps for years. When I was a little kid, my dad carried ginger snaps in his lunch. Three. Ginger snaps are very small cookies with a spicy ginger bite. It was really no problem for a big Swede like my dad to eat his lunch and polish it off with three ginger snaps and a big cup of black coffee. But every once in a while, Dad would bring one home in his lunch pail. He’d catch me up in his arms and say, “I went fishing today.” <p>“What did you catch?” I’d ask. <p>“A little sardine.” I’d wrinkle up my nose. “I made it into a cookie. Want to try it?” I’d be doubtful, but nod. Out of the pail he would pull the one last ginger snap and offer it to me. My eyes would light up and I’d take a bite. If I was very lucky, Dad would pour the last spoonful of coffee out of his thermos and I’d sip it as if I, too, were working on the docks like my father. Ginger snaps have had a special place in my taste-buds ever since. <p>I went into the kitchen, intent on grabbing a couple cookies before I lit the coals in the grill. I glanced around, finally lighting upon a cookie jar under the cabinets. I lifted the lid and reached in for a couple of cookies and pulled out two foil packets. I thought it must be a new brand of cookie that was individually wrapped, but when I looked in my hand, I froze. I heard a sudden intake of breath behind me and spun to see Andi with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. I quickly shoved the condoms back in the cookie jar and put the lid on. <p>“Cookies,” I whispered. My mouth was dry and my voice cracked. <p>“On this counter,” Andi squeaked. She pointed at an unopened bag on the opposite counter. <p>“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I thought… I just… I’ll go start the coals first.” <p>“They’re Cali’s!” she almost shouted. My jaw dropped and I rushed out into the yard. I’m sure I used more lighter fluid on the coals than is strictly legal in the City of Seattle. <p align="center">*** <p>“So Dag got the surprise of his life when he reached into the cookie jar!” Everyone started laughing. I blushed, but was thankful that Andi had not included the part about how embarrassed we both were. The story was shared by several people who had been in at the actual start. <p>“We invited Andi and Cali over to join us one weekend. What was that? Five years ago? Cali was 12 or 13. There were eight of us total and we were playing Pictionary with two teams of four,” Jan started. “It was Cali’s turn to draw.” <p>“She looked at the card and just stared at it for the longest time and we started saying, ‘Cali we can’t guess if you don’t draw. You should have seen Andi’s face as the drawing took shape,” added Laura. “Eyes wide and mouth hanging open.” <p>“She drew a penis.” <p>“Not just a penis, a text book quality illustration of a flaccid penis. There were a few tentative guesses, but the rest of us were all adults and we just knew there was no way it could be one of the words any of us was thinking.” <p>“The thing is that she didn’t stop there. She drew a line around the whole thing, balls and all, and closed it like a circle. It was definite that she was calling specific attention to the genitalia. Thank God, someone noticed the sand had run out of the timer!” <p>“Andi said, ‘Cali, honey, let me see your word, please.’ When she looked at it she almost choked!” <p>“The word was ‘rubber.’ I said, ‘Oh, I see, honey. But a rubber is usually put on an erect penis and doesn’t cover the testicles, too.’” <p>“Cali got embarrassed, which is what we were all trying not to do to her, and she said, ‘Well how was I to know? They told us about them in health, but I’ve never actually seen one!’” Everyone was howling by this time, and I was wiping the tears out of my eyes. <p>“The thing is,” Andi said, “I realized that what they call Sex Ed in Middle School simply isn’t. They were tossing out a bunch of crap and not really explaining what everything meant. So I decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak, and teach her what it all meant. So I bought a pack of condoms and explained them to her. We practiced rolling them onto a ketchup bottle. It kind of got started as a joke and I’d leave a condom randomly around the house. If she didn’t find it while we were cleaning, I’d make her clean again. Then, I told her that she’d never have to feel embarrassed talking to me about that again and if the time ever came when she actually needed one, she would know there was a supply in the house. We finally decided to put them in the cookie jar and periodically over the course of the following years, we just kept adding to them. When she turned 16, I made her go to the drugstore and buy one herself so she would know it was okay. That one went in the cookie jar as well.” <p>So that was what I’d walked into. A cookie jar full of condoms that six of the guests tonight already knew about. <p>“You should probably check the expiration dates on them,” Jan said. “It wouldn’t do to have her get one in an emergency and then have it fall apart.” <p>“They have expiration dates?” Andi exclaimed. <p>“Yeah. I knew a guy who put one in his wallet when he was a freshman in high school because he had heard you should always be prepared. Boy Scout I think. Anyway, he didn’t get a chance to use it until he was a senior in college. He pulled it out it was torn to shreds.” <p>“That was probably just from being in his wallet for that long.” <p>“Maybe I should check.” <p align="center">*** <p>When Cali and Mel arrived after her rehearsal, the entire room went silent with no one wanting to say anything about the discussion. We were spared by Cali’s rant in answer to her mother’s simple question, “How was rehearsal?” <p>“I can’t believe it! I hate this play!” <p>“Oh, oh.” <p>“Everybody for act one scene one. Places. Cue 1. Cue 2. Cue 3. Cue 4. Okay, cut to Macbeth’s line. Cue 5. Cue 6. Positions for end of scene. Cue 7. Cue 8. Scene ii. Actors.” <p>“No, no, no, no,” Mel chimed in. “We have to go back to cue 5; there’s a light out. Electrician!” <p>“Now, Cali, let’s go over your mad scene on the parapet again. You just aren’t selling it. You’re looking angry, not mad.” Cali growled and stomped around the room. “First we’re just slabs of meat getting dragged around under the lights so tech can practice over and over again, then I can’t get my lines right. I just don’t get her. Why’s she go mad. What did she think? You stab someone, there’s going to be bloody blood. She’s in medieval Scotland. She has to know what blood looks like. Probably kills her own chickens.” <p>“Wow,” I interjected. The English teachers were huddled. I slipped out of the room and into the kitchen, ostensibly to go out to check on the grill—which I did. On the way through the kitchen, I grabbed a freezer bag out that was lying out waiting for leftovers and squirted a bunch of ketchup in it, then filled it with water. It was weak blood, but I figured that would be easier to clean up in the long run. I grabbed a plastic butter knife and opened my own pen knife in my hand. For good measure, I squirted a little ketchup in my mouth, and went back into the dining room. <p>“Cali,” I said. “Do you know how much blood is in the human body?” <p>“A few pints.” <p>“Here,” I said, handing her the plastic knife. “Stab me in the heart.” <p>“With a plastic knife?” <p>“You don’t think I’m going to give you a steak knife, do you?” <p>“What’s the point?” <p>“You need to get into the emotion and violence of what you’ve done. You got Macbeth the kill the king, then you went in and dipped your hands in the blood to smear it on the guards. You need to lose sophistication and become the animal inside.” <p>“How do you know so much about Macbeth?” <p>“I went to college. Now think about the one thing you want most in your life and then imagine that I’m the only thing in the world standing between you and it. All you have to do is work up enough of that anger they say you have on set into action and stab me.” <p>I actually saw the change in her face as she became Lady Macbeth. It was frightening. Her eyes went cold and she clenched her teeth. For a minute, I didn’t think she’d do it. Then she went into action faster than I could move. She shifted the butter knife in her hand and rushed at my chest stabbing down. I was shocked and surprised to see the amount of anger she could wield at a moment’s notice—so much so that I fell to one knee and then down on my back as she continued to reign blows down on me. I clutched my heart with my right hand and with the penknife cut a slit in my shirt through the bag. Her next blow squished and she brought her hand back wet. Her eyes suddenly went wide. <p>Cali screamed. <p>I pushed the rest of the red water out of the bag and let a little ketchup escape from my mouth. <p>She kept screaming. The plastic knife went flying. <p>Andi was on her feet with her arms wrapped around Cali, glaring at me as I propped myself up on one elbow. Cali was sobbing in her mother’s arms. <p>“You would make a terrible father!” Andi yelled at me. I thought I was just going to be helpful. I was terrified. Then Cali lifted her head and I could see she wasn’t sobbing, but laughing. <p>“No! No!” she laughed. “He’d be great. That was awesome! Oh my God! I thought I killed you. That was spectacular!” <p>“That was soooo cool!” Mel said. “How much blood is in the human body.” <p>“Five or six quarts, depending on how big the person is,” I gasped. Between the onslaught of Cali and then the fear that I’d totally screwed things up, I was completely out of breath. <p>“I totally get it!” Cali exclaimed. “There’s a difference between knowing and actually doing it. Oh wow. I think I can go mad now!” <p>“I still question whether that was smart,” Andi said looking at me pointedly. “You should have asked me first. You scared me to death.” <p>“Face it, Mom, you were more worried that I’d hurt Dag than that I was emotionally damaged.” <p>“Well, you were convincing.” <p>“Wait, wait,” Paula said. “What’s going on between Andi and Dag?” <p>“They’re dating,” Cali announced. Both Andi and I blushed. We hadn’t planned to say anything to anyone. Outed by the teenager. <p>“Well, we were until that little stunt,” Andi said, still not forgiving me, but she did slide her hand over close enough that I could reach it with my own. I took hold of her hand and brought it to my lips. <p>“Would it help if I volunteer to clean up the mess?” I asked. <p>“Well that would go a long way.” Everybody in the room chorused with variations of “Aww.” <p align="center">*** <p>I did clean up. I had to run up to my apartment to change shirts. That was one of my favorites, too. Well, it was worth it, I thought. I cleaned up the dining room, including scrubbing the ketchup off the hardwood floor and for good measure, I washed the entire dining room floor. I got the grill cleaned up, packaged up the leftover food, and generally made myself useful until the last guest had bid goodnight. <p>Finally, Andi and I stood in the entryway and I knew it was time for me to go as well. <p>“I am sorry I pulled that little stunt. I should have talked to you instead of jumping to my own remedy.” <p>“It worked out okay. And Cali was right. I could see her laughing before she stopped screaming. I just wasn’t sure you were okay.” <p>“Maybe I would make a terrible father.” <p>“With what you did today?” she asked. She wasn’t talking about the stunt with Cali anymore. “You showed powerful empathy for a vulnerable child and you put the wheels in motion to bring the perpetrator to justice. Dag, you are a wonderful, caring man. You just haven’t had any practice.” <p>I leaned down to kiss her. It was brief. <p>“Cali and Mel are here. Will I see you tomorrow?” <p>“I’m taking my mother to brunch tomorrow. If I can’t be a good father, maybe I can still be a good son. I’ll be back about 3:00.” <p>“I can live with that. Let’s go for a walk tomorrow.” <p>I leaned in for one more light kiss and then mounted the steps to my apartment.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-36086003310259105382011-04-23T09:11:00.000-07:002011-11-13T09:27:15.757-08:00Doubtful Joy—Part 1<blockquote><p><em>Nought’s had, all’s spent,<br />
Where our desire is got without content:<br />
’Tis safer to be that which we destroy<br />
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.<br />
—Macbeth III.ii</em></p></blockquote><p>I had work to do. I’d been so caught up in sleeplessness, office politics, and relational bliss for the past 30 hours that I’d not yet examined the results of my search for the cyber-bully. Once Cali left my office to go to rehearsal, I settled in with my laptop and transferred control to the tower at my office. Working at the office has advantages since I have a lot more computing power there. <p>I pulled the drapes in the office and turned out the lights. I cranked up Alice in Chains and started following my leads. It wasn’t quite as dark as the apartment, but the level of adrenaline I felt pumping through my veins as I plunged into Philanthropolis was enough to block out all distractions. <p align="center">*** <p>IP addresses are assigned to devices participating in a network, in this instance, the worldwide web. Philanthropolis was hosted on multiple computers, with backup and mirroring on dozens more. Many of those computers functioned as virtual devices, meaning their hard disks might have several different addresses. When I added in the problem that Philanthropolis was a composite of numerous organizations and domains that had been organized together I was dealing with a problem of incredible proportions. My automated searches, however, led me deeper into this morass than I thought possible. <p>The building my searches all seemed to lead through was a massive structure in its own right. It housed such a reputable charitable organization that my first inclination was to ignore it and look elsewhere. I didn’t even want my search to lead me here. But not only is the Internet a great place to find things, it is a great place to hide things. The cyber-bully I was after wanted to stay hidden. <p>Off the main portal I entered an antechamber that held a number of awards and certificates of appreciation, each, I knew could open into the organization that issued it. That wasn’t where my spider was leading, though. In the back of the room was an unmarked passage and that is where I went. <p>The momentary disorientation of crossing from room to room was caused by the shift from domain to domain. This was leading me now through different countries as well. Being immersed in the U.S. Internet structure, it was easy for me to forget that there are over 200 different domain suffixes, many that are specific to countries. Some countries had found it profitable at the dawn of the Internet to begin selling domain names at prices less than the $78 per year then charged in the U.S. Tonga, .to, was a popular place for teens to get domains in the 90s because they charged only $10 to register. I was finding that there was still a sizable market in country-specific domains available. <p>It wasn’t unusual for a major company to buy the .com, .org, and .net domains for their businesses. Many also bought up the country specific domains in countries in which they did business. But what if an organization didn’t have a business presence in a country, but still owned a domain in that country. There had to be at least a thousand ways to hide; perhaps millions. <p>Buried in a backroom of an organization that didn’t exist in an African nation, I found the name of an owner. I’d been at it for two hours, but now that I had one, following the spiders to a dozen more went more quickly. I compiled search criteria for each of the names I found and sent the spiders out again. This time, I had to simply immerse myself in the data. <p>I think of the Internet as a real place with real people, buildings, streets, and rooms. When I’m immersed in a search as I was now, it is as if I am driving, walking, or running down those streets. In the “real world,” a casual observer would have seen me mesmerized in front of my screen, tapping out commands on my keyboard as thousands of lines of code flew by. I learned a long time ago that I couldn’t comprehend what I saw as the lines scrolled across the screen. What I looked for were anomalies. If I looked at a string of numbers—for example: 1', 3', 7', 10", 15', 22', 47"—I would immediately recognize that the 10 and 47 were out of order. All the other numbers are in feet. The 10 and 47 are in inches and should be ordered first and fourth in the list. Many computer programs could not even put them in ascending order of the numbers that a human would recognize. It’s just how my brain works. Matching a single word, phrase, or string on the fly or spotting one that is out of order is less difficult for me than sitting down to study a segment of code in detail. I could see the difference as though driving down a street of bungalows and spotting the Taj Mahal. <p>In six hours, I had 17 names. I sat back at my desk shaking. I hadn’t eaten, drunk, or gone to the bathroom. My neck, arms, and back were cramped and my head was throbbing. I pushed myself away from the computer in disgust and went to relieve myself. I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. I hadn’t realized tears were running out of my eyes and I splashed water on my face to wash them away. I glanced into my office and just pulled the door closed and locked it. I couldn’t face looking at the screen again. I left the building, locked the door and wished I could burn it down rather than face what I’d left inside. <p align="center">*** <p>I’d walked two blocks before I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket and angrily punched in the speed-dial command for Jordan. It was his private phone, not the office, and he picked up on second ring. <p>“Dag! How’s the great undercover adventure going? Put them straight yet?” <p>“It’s going okay, Jordan, but I need to talk to you about something else. I’ve got another client.” I quickly described my encounter with Daniel and his father, the bullying on the Internet forums and my searches through cyberspace. I skimmed through my adventures in Philanthropolis. Jordan knew I dealt with searches and results; he didn’t know what my mental imagery was. <p>“The net result is that I’ve found something that I can’t handle, Jordan. This is a job for the police.” I was still having trouble getting to the point. I didn’t want to believe what I’d found. I didn’t want any of it to be true. The work on credit card fraud, in fact my whole obsession with thieves, seemed insignificant and mundane. <p>“Dag, you know I have a lot of sympathy for victims of cyber-bullying, but mostly we have to tell them to cancel their accounts and stay away from the Internet for a while. We’ve got a caseload that’s too big to handle as it is. The chance we could make charges stick on a case of bullying are remote. You’re better off trying to get the school to take disciplinary action.” <p>“Jordan.” I measured my words carefully. “We don’t have a cyber-bully. We’ve got a predator. And he’s high up the food chain.” <p align="center">***</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-11268047190872416852011-04-23T08:46:00.000-07:002011-11-12T08:47:47.834-08:00Let This Go<blockquote><p><em>Do you find<br />
Your patience so predominant in your nature<br />
That you can let this go?<br />
—Macbeth III.i</em></p></blockquote><p>The brunette in front of me at the Analog had her hair pulled up in a Saturday-morning-and-I-don’t-care knot on top of her head. I saw her often. You get to recognize people in a neighborhood like this. Usually, her hair fell straight below her shoulders and was brushed so silkily shiny you could almost see through it. This morning, as she leaned on the counter chatting with our friendly barista, she was wearing a short jeans jacket that left several inches of grey t-shirt exposed, cutting enticingly across her butt above black skin-tight jeans. Her white socks were pulled up over the legs above her Converse high tops, nearly to her calves. I was noticing everything female and feminine this morning, as if my own senses had just been awakened to the opposite sex. But even when she turned away from the counter and looked at me with a smile almost as big as the bag slung over one shoulder, my mind was on Andi. <p>The barista, Lonnie, had already started pulling my regular double short Americano and kept up a running conversation asking me how my weekend was going and how the new job was working out. Seems that everyone knows a little about everyone in this town, especially Lonnie. His sandy hair and two-day beard were as much a part of the atmosphere here as the fact that he pulled the best shots on Capitol Hill. I’d just answered with a quick, “Fine,” when I felt two delicate hands cover my eyes and a voice whisper “Guess who.” <p>My heart skipped a couple beats and instead of answering I reached up and slid the hands down to my lips and kissed the fingertips. “Morning,” I said softly as I turned toward her. <p>If my heart had skipped beats before, it stopped cold now. <p>“So that’s how it is?” <p>“Cali! I… I’m sorry. I thought…” Damn! <p>“I know. You thought I was Mom. Must have been a pretty good date last night.” I was still spluttering. The last thing I wanted was for anyone here to think I was involved with a 17-year-old. How could I have not realized it wasn’t Andi? <p>“Here’s your coffee, Dag,” Lonnie said. <p>“Did you want anything?” I asked Cali. My voice cracked and I realized the question could be interpreted in different ways. <p>“Tall Mocha, please.” Lonnie turned and made the drink while I slid a five across the counter. There were a few stools at a counter under the corner windows and a church pew cobbled together into a corner seat opposite. On the rough wooden table, a selection of fringe comic books were scattered among the remains of today’s newspaper. Cali picked up her drink and I waved off the change Lonnie offered me. We stepped outside and sat at one of the sidewalk tables, taking advantage of the fourth sunny April day in a row. Sunny April. Now that was an oxymoron. <p>“Where’s your mom?” I asked. <p>“Still asleep with a smile on her face that covers the entire pillow. I just had to make sure the feeling was mutual.” <p>“That was really wicked of you.” <p>“Surprising you this morning?” <p>“That, and setting up that little date last night. You don’t look like a girl with cramps.” <p>“Oh, they come and go. And it worked, didn’t it? You really are dating now, right?” She was a little anxious, but all I could do was grin. <p>“I certainly hope so.” <p>“Good!” We sat sipping our coffees for a minute. I have a hard time concentrating on anything else when I’m drinking my first cup of coffee in the morning. Years ago, when I got out of the Navy, I adopted the Seattle fascination with lattes. But somewhere along the line I realized that I didn’t really like milk that much. It didn’t make sense to force myself to drink milk by flavoring it with coffee when what I really liked was the coffee. That first cup in the morning—the hotter, the stronger, the blacker, the better. Cali’s big sigh cut through my momentary reverie. <p>“I need a fake I.D.” This girl could knock me for a loop with a word. How the heck did her mother manage? <p>“Excuse me?” <p>“Do you know how to get a fake ID? I’d hire you to get me one.” <p>“Cali, that’s illegal. Besides which there are reasons for the laws against underage drinking. Your body isn’t equipped to handle alcohol at your age and especially at your size.” I realized I had adopted the tone of a lecturing parent and I cringed in spite of myself. <p>“Oh really! If I wanted to get drunk I’d have said ‘I need a bottle of booze,’ or something. What do you think I am? I don’t drink and I don’t do drugs. I don’t do a lot of other stuff, either, not that it’s any of your business.” <p>“I’m sorry, Cali. You took me by surprise and I responded automatically,” I said. This was my girlfriend’s daughter and I really needed to think about keeping lines of communication open. Hmmm… Girlfriend. I liked the sound of that and just hoped it was true. It could be a long-term thing. “Why do you think you need a fake ID?” <p>“Because all the good music venues are 21 and older. I can’t get in to see any of the bands I want to see. It’s just so unfair.” Music? She wanted a fake ID so she could go to concerts? Man, I really had to catch up with the times. But right now, I had to sympathize while still steering her clear of the notion of doing something illegal and stupid. <p>My coursework with Lars included a lot of information on covert operations. That was his Navy Intelligence background. Twenty years ago he’d taught me how to create a second skin as he called it. Yes, I had a driver’s license, credit cards, social security number, and even a passport locked in a safe deposit box at the bank that had my picture with a different identity. It took years of planning and maintenance to establish a good cover, and secrecy above all else. Lars had suggested that he would be assigning the same task for his undercover operations class in the fall. Not even he knew I had maintained my cover identity for twenty years. <p>Today, I knew, college kids were ordering passable IDs on-line from an “entertainment” company in China. They wouldn’t stand up to careful government scrutiny, but most bouncers couldn’t tell the difference and even the police had stumbled over finding the telltale marks. <p>“I see the problem,” I said calmly. “Do any of your friends have these or is this your own solution?” She looked at me a little warily. <p>“Maybe.” I’ve got to learn to ask one question at a time. I just waited. <p>“It just seemed like an easy way to get in to see the groups I want to see. All the cutting edge music gets played in bars after 10. Even when there’s an all-age venue, they usually cut it off before the good stuff comes on. And Mel said… Well, she sort of suggested it would work because…” Andi had told me a few days ago to just be quiet and listen and I’d learn a lot. The wild child of ultra-strict parents, who got permission to go to the movies last night because it was a PG film and she’d be with Andi, Cali, and me but then went to an R movie when she ditched us, used whatever means she needed to stretch her wings. I assumed that meant she had already acquired a fake ID. <p>“Oh poo! It was a stupid idea and I told Mel that to start with. Here. I won’t be needing these.” She pushed a computer printout of tickets across the table to me. I listen to a lot of music when I’m alone in my room. This was one of my favorite groups, playing at an over-21 venue next Friday. “I’m sure you could find <i>someone</i> to go with you,” she smirked. <p>I’d been had again! She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, her eyes were so bright you could hear the laughter. This whole ID thing was just… Well, maybe there was some truth to it, but the point was… I became just as devious. <p>“Wow. Thanks, Cali. I’ll pay you for them. There’s this lady at the office who kinda dropped some hints…” Cali’s expression collapsed on her face and she reached to snatch back the tickets, but I held the paper back out of reach. I grinned at her. <p>“You!” she snarled, then broke down in a fit of giggling. After she settled down, she looked me in the eye and I could tell she was a little worried. “You won’t hurt her, will you?” I knew the question was coming from the heart of a girl who loved her mother more than anything in the world and was truly trying to make her happy. <p>“Cali, whether we are dating or not, your mom is my best friend. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. Or you.” Her expression relaxed. “But wait a minute,” I said. “These tickets are for Friday. Doesn’t your show open Friday night?” <p>“Mmmm. Yeah, so I guess I couldn’t have used them anyway, huh.” <p>“But don’t you want your mom at opening night?” <p>“Well, it’s gonna be a big flop and I’d rather you guys came Saturday instead of Friday. I couldn’t think of any other way to kind of tell Mom and you not to come to opening.” She shook her head and smiled as if it were the most logical thing in the world. <p>I glanced at my cell phone for the time and stood up. <p>“I need to get to work so I’m back in time for the barbecue this evening.” She looked at me skeptically. <p>“You’re going to work looking like that? Didn’t we just buy you new clothes?” <p>“I’m just going up to my office on 15<sup>th</sup>. I’m not going into the corporate office.” <p>“Okay. That’s good, I’ll walk up there with you.” <p>“Maybe we should get a cup of coffee to take to your mom.” <p>“Maybe we should just let her sleep. It looked like she was having really nice dreams.” I chuckled and nodded my head, dropped my coffee cup in the compost bin, and turned up the street. <p>“Why are you headed up the hill?” <p>“Well, for one, I’m going to rehearsal. It’s wet tech today and it takes me about an hour to get to the theater by bus. It’s a little quicker if I catch the one on 15<sup>th</sup>. And for another thing, I’m not done talking to you yet.” She had her shoulder bag slung over her back and held onto it with one hand while she continued to slurp her drink rather noisily through a straw. I was carrying only my laptop, so I offered to carry her bag. “Aren’t you a schoolboy! Thank you Dag.” I wasn’t sure I liked that, but when I picked up her bag, I regretted the offer. <p>“What do you carry in this?” <p>“My life. My life. My life.” <p>“You should consider only carrying one.” We walked up most of the hill in silence. That’s pretty normal for me. As often as I walk the ten blocks to my office, I still get winded. And carrying her bag didn’t help. <p align="center">*** <p>“Dag, you’re really a private detective, aren’t you?” We were almost to my office when she popped that question out. <p>“I’m licensed.” <p>“Do you have a lot of… what do you call it? caseload?” <p>“I have a couple of clients. The office downtown is pretty much full-time right now.” <p>“Could you take another?” <p>“I often take multiple clients. You can’t really work non-stop on most projects. You have to give them time to sit sometimes.” <p>“I’d like to hire you.” That threw me. I looked at her as we went up the steps to my little office and I unlocked the door. Cali was a little shorter than Andi—about five-three. As long as I’d known her, she’d been blonde, but occasionally she put a temporary rinse in her hair to try something different. Like most teens I’d known in my life, Cali could go from frivolous to intense in five-tenths of a second. It didn’t pay to take what she said lightly. <p>“Well, come in and tell me about your problem, Miss Marx,” I said seriously. I had no idea what she wanted, but it was obvious that she was pretty serious and I didn’t want to brush her off. She sat down across my desk from me. I decided my best bet was just to wait and let her take her time. Finally she started. <p>“Okay. Here it is. My mom lied to me. God that sounds terrible. I don’t mean it to sound so serious, but she told me something that I found out wasn’t true and I really want to know why and I want to know the truth, but I don’t dare confront her with it because I’m afraid she’ll be hurt by the fact that I didn’t trust her. I’ll keep whatever I find out a secret and will never let her know. But it’s about me and I just have to find out.” Once the floodgates were open, Cali was off and running. All I had to do was give her a little nudge occasionally to keep the story flowing. <p>“My mom was totally in love with my dad. She was in college when they met and he swept her off her feet. He was a salesman, but not just a sleazy one. He was really nice and so outgoing. He loved to party and took Mom to all kinds of nice places. They were married during her senior year in college and she got pregnant almost immediately. Just after graduation, he took her to a big convention and was showing off his young beautiful wife who was very pregnant. Then, all of a sudden he just collapsed. He died in her arms with a smile on his lips, a martini in his hand, and me in her tummy. Mom never married again. In fact, she’s hardly ever dated anyone. She just takes care of me.” <p>“I’ve heard the story before. It’s very sweet.” <p>“Yeah. Except it isn’t true.” I was taken aback. We all knew the story of Andi’s tragic marriage. Cali started rummaging around in her bag. <p>“One of the sophomore U.S. History projects in school last year was to compile a family tree. I asked Mom for help and she kind of stalled. The next day after school, she pulls out a box of papers and says everything I need should be in that box. It had her marriage certificate, birth certificate, my birth certificate and some papers about her parents and grandparents. It went back three generations. Just three! Then everything was listed as unknown, or ‘came from England,’ or some stuff. It was pretty pathetic. So I decided I’d try to push it back a little further. I did a bunch of searches and sure enough I found more information. I thought it would be cool to show it all to Mom, so I was going to do this big family tree for Christmas and I thought I’d try to get something that would help, so I started searching around and posted some things on a college site trying to get a copy of her senior yearbook. I managed to buy one for like $20, but it cost about the same to send it to me.” She finally pulled a black and gold yearbook out of her bag. She plopped it on my desk as if I was supposed to know what to look for. <p>“Here,” she said, opening the yearbook to the senior pictures pages. I glanced down the pictures. There were about 400 of them. <p>“What am I looking for?” I asked. <p>“Anne Doreen Sullivan.” <p>“Was that your mom’s maiden name?” Now I got it. Anne Doreen. Anne D. Andi. Cute nickname. <p>“It’s what was on her birth certificate.” I kept scanning down the pages. There she was. Anne Doreen Sullivan. <p>“I don’t think that’s your mom, Cali.” <p>“Not unless I’m some kind of albino black person,” she said. “But she’s got a diploma and everything. Why would she lie about something like this? I can’t find her picture in the stupid yearbook at all, under any name and I’ve looked at every single picture. I thought I was just going to find more about my mom, but now I don’t know who my real mother is.” Cali’s eyes were glistening. This had obviously been eating at her for over a year. She hadn’t told anyone about it. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to tell me about it. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve that trust. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted the information she’d just given me. <p>“Cali, are you sure you want to do this?” <p>“I need to know. I keep thinking of all the terrible things that it could be and <em>nothing</em> you find out could be that bad.” <p>“Cali, what you have is a thread of information. It could have been a mistake on the part of the yearbook staff, putting the wrong picture in the book. Maybe that’s why your mom didn’t have one already. But whenever you find the end of a string, there’s another end somewhere. You have to be ready to deal with all the tangles between them.” <p>“I’m sorry, Dag. I love my mommy. Nothing in the world would ever make me stop loving her. And I would never, ever, do anything to hurt her. But it’s driving me crazy. I have to know.” There was no question now. She was dripping tears even though she was holding her voice steady. <p>“Cali, I’ll do my best. But understand, this could be very painful for all of us. I might not be… well, my relationship with Andi isn’t the same as yours, but I care for her very much. And for you. Just understand that I can’t promise I’ll find anything.” <p>“I understand. You have a contract?” That took me by surprise. “I want this to be clear that I hired you. I have $200 I can give you in advance. If it costs more, I’ll find a way to pay you.” I wanted to just refuse her money, but she was determined and I really didn’t want to insult her. I’d find a way to get the money back to her. I pulled out a standard contract and made a couple of edits lowering my standard rate by half and estimating about half the hours I figured it would actually take. There wouldn’t be any further payments and maybe I could refund some of her money legitimately. She signed the document and handed me the two hundred dollars. I signed the receipt and gave her a copy along with $50 change. <p>“What’s that for?” <p>“To pay for the tickets. You may be conniving to get Andi and me together, but I can pay for my own dates. <p>“Okay,” she said, reluctantly. “Now if you could just tell me what my evil friend is up to for prom, I’d feel great.” <p>“Mel have a surprise for you?” <p>“I suppose so. She’s insisting I get a prom dress, even though I don’t have a date and really am not interested. I’m afraid she’s going to embarrass me to death.” <p>“Oh, surely she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you. You’ve been friends for what, ten years?” <p>“Yeah, but she’s really getting weird. I know her parents bug her, but I’m getting kind of worried about her. And I’m afraid she’s going to try to fix me up with one of her freaky on-line friends or something. Some days…” She stopped with a quick intake of breath, realizing that she was talking too much and not really wanting to put her friend down. <p>“Cali, if there’s something that’s genuinely worrying you then you should say something to your mom or to Mel’s mom. I know they are strict, but they do love her.” <p>“I know. I can’t just betray her confidence though. It wouldn’t be right.” <p>It amazes me how the teenage mind works. She wasn’t going to betray her best friend’s confidence because that would be against some unwritten code that said it wouldn’t be right, but she wanted to dig into her mother’s secret. I was thinking that maybe I should talk to Andi about all this myself, but I’d just signed a confidentiality agreement and technically this was considered client privilege. But even if I didn’t say anything, I was definitely going to check up on Mel and make sure Cali was safe.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-46133917091423259422011-04-22T19:23:00.000-07:002011-11-11T07:27:43.947-08:00How Goes the World<blockquote><p><em>How goes the world, sir, now?<br />
—Macbeth II.iv</em></p></blockquote><p>Even though short, it had been an intense day and I was exhausted. I stumbled into my apartment, stripped off my clothes and a moment before I went to sleep, followed Darlene’s advice and set an alarm. Two hours later it woke me as though I hadn’t slept at all. <p>I stepped into the shower and for good measure shaved again, though my beard can go two days without being noticed. I felt revived and set off at a brisk pace up the hill to The Faculty Lounge. I nearly tripped over the leash stretched across the sidewalk. The little shih tzu squeaked and as I came to a precarious stop it began to dance around me. Attached to the other end of the leash was a cute blonde in a yellow sweater and form emphasizing black leggings. Her high-heeled boots stopped just above the ankle and her smile lit up the block. <p>“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see the leash.” <p>“Well, if a guy is too preoccupied to notice anything else, at least the leash will slow him down long enough to take a look.” She laughed and reached down to pick up the little dog. “Really, I just got her and we haven’t learned to stay together and not block the sidewalk. It’s me who should be apologizing. I wouldn’t mind catching a man, but I’m not resorting to tripping him on the sidewalk.” <p>“I’m sure you won’t have difficulty using more conventional techniques,” I smiled back at her. I had seen her in the neighborhood before, but it seemed only recently. “Are you new in the neighborhood?” I asked politely. <p>“Just a month. I moved over here especially because it’s a pet-friendly neighborhood. I’ve always wanted a dog.” <p>“Well, you almost got one there,” I joked. “You are right though. There’s lots of animal-lovers in the neighborhood. Hang out outside the Analog on Sundays and you’ll see lots of them.” <p>“Hmm. Maybe I’ll try that. Will I see you?” <p>“It’s always possible, but my building doesn’t allow dogs. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get on up the hill. Have a nice evening.” <p>“Ta-ta. See you around.” <p>Wow. It seemed like I’d been flirted with a lot lately. At least I managed not to outright offend this one. She had the right idea, too. Pets in this neighborhood were social magnets. Two people walking dogs meet and if the dogs like each other, the people become a couple. It was unbelievable. <p>When I moved into the neighborhood a few years ago, Eric tried to convince me to get a pet. Said it would improve my social life. “How so?” I asked. <p>“Well,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you have to know how to work the little pets. <i>I</i> have a pair of ducks.” <p>“Ducks?” <p>“Yes. Our building doesn’t allow dogs, but it does allow birds and cats. Read your lease. It requires an extra damage deposit, though. My ducks are rescues, so that makes them even more attractive when I say ‘Want to come up and see the ducks I rescued?’” <p>“What did you rescue them from?” I asked, thinking about my mother’s traditional New Year’s Dinner. <p>“The Humane Society. Lots of people buy their children chickens, ducks, or rabbits at Easter, discover they can’t keep them and then they end up at the Humane Society. Well, these two were special because they only have one leg each. Poor things. When I put them in the bathtub they just swim around in a circle. I even tried velcroing them together to see if that would help.” <p>“You’re kidding, right Eric?” <p>“Yes!” <p>“Why would you make up such a preposterous story?” <p>“Well, after people hear that, it makes it easier for them to accept the fact that I have two three-legged cats.” <p>As it turned out, Eric did, indeed, have two three-legged cats. It was my official introduction to pet-crazy Capitol Hill. The thing was that every time I saw the two cats, I thought about velcroing them together. <p>I finally got up to the Blue Moon and realized I was huffing. I was obviously not getting enough exercise lately. I stood around outside waiting for my heart to get back to normal. When I went in to order a burger and a cup of coffee, I spotted Andi at the table with our crew and my heart sped up again. We’d known each other how long? Six years? Almost seven? It must be the fact that I turned down two sure dates and one open flirtation to spend the evening with her and two 17-year-olds that was making my body react this way. Maybe I did need to get a pet. <p>Jan’s wife Donna had joined the group this evening. Donna worked in a real estate office, but she made it a practice to “hang with the intelligentsia” at least once a month. Lisa was there, of course, and so was Sara Gates, a musician who taught fundamentals at the Community College during the week and played in a Celtic Fiddle band on weekends. Her boyfriend, Sandy tended bar during the week at a nearby watering hole and joined her in the band on the weekends if he wasn’t being pressured into working. I recognized Laura Hersey sitting next to Andi. Laura was another English prof, but was usually tied up after school with other responsibilities and seldom joined us for the Lounge. <p>It was Laura who greeted me first and stood to kiss me on each cheek. She’d spent the summer in Italy two years ago and had never stopped kissing people since. <p>“Dag! I heard you weren’t teaching this year. They still let you come to the Faculty Lounge?” she asked. <p>“We grandfathered him in,” Jan said. “There’s still a chance he’ll come back to teaching.” <p>“Not a very big chance, I’m afraid,” I answered. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got a day job now.” <p>“You had a day job when you started teaching if I recall,” Andi smiled. “That didn’t stop you from getting a job at the college. Or from dating your students.” The smile turned to a smirk. Everyone at the table knew the story of Hope’s and my romance and its disastrous conclusion. What most of them didn’t know was that I’d ended up putting her new husband behind bars and that she was now living in Costa Rica. <p>“I know, I know,” I said. “I learned my lesson. Never date a person less than half your age…” <p>“Plus seven,” they joined in. <p>“So, tonight I’m going out with two women,” I added. <p>“Two?” Andi asked. “There are supposed to be three of us.” <p>“Yes, but I have to add Cali and Mel together in order to get them over 30!” <p>“So, are you two seeing each other now?” Laura asked. Andi blushed a little. Damn! Maybe I did, too. We stumbled over each other explaining how I’d rescued the girls on Wednesday and they insisted on taking me to the movies tonight. Then we got involved in a lengthy discussion of the indie film we were seeing tonight and the upcoming Seattle International Film Festival line-up. We laughed and talked while we ate our burgers. <p>“Spring is here,” Andi said at last. “Let’s have a barbecue tomorrow. We can commandeer my front yard for the grill and spread out into the park across the street. Can you all make it?” There was general agreement and by the time we had compiled the guest list and who was inviting whom and who was bringing what, it was time to catch our ride to the theater. Melissa pulled up in front of the Blue Moon at exactly 7:00 with Cali in the seat beside her. <p>“Cali, let Dag have the front seat. His legs are longer,” Andi said as she opened the back door. <p>“That’s okay,” I said. “It’s only a few blocks. We could have walked it. I can ride in back for that distance. Besides, I’m sure Mel wants to pay me back for folding her up in the back seat of the Mustang.” <p>“It was great,” Mel gushed. “I couldn’t believe you put the top down. Everybody at school was sooooo jealous.” <p>“Mel kept trying to tell everyone that you were her boyfriend,” Cali giggled. <p>“Oh no!” I said in mock horror. <p>“Yeah. When that didn’t work, I told them you were really Cali’s long lost daddy and you’d come to spoil her senseless.” <p>“Mel, you didn’t!” Andi and Cali exclaimed at the same time. <p>“Just kidding,” she sang. It really was only a few blocks to the theater and Mel pulled up outside. “I’ll drop you guys off and go find a parking spot.” <p>“Yeah. Here’s your tickets. You don’t have to wait for us to go in. We’ll be there in a jiff,” Cali said handing the tickets to her mother as I held the door open for her. They waved as they pulled away from the curb and turned down Broadway. <p>“I guess they don’t want to be seen with the adults,” Andi said as we went inside. I bought a popcorn but we both decided to forgo the massively overpriced drinks. If I drank one of their sodas, I’d just have to get up in the middle of the movie to pee anyway. Speaking of which, I gave Andi the popcorn and excused myself to go use the restroom. <p>When I got back, I found Andi with her cell phone in hand staring at the screen. That reminded me to silence mine, which I did as I sat down. Andi continued to look at the screen and then turned sharply toward me. <p>“We’ve been set up.” She showed me the text message on her phone. <p>“Mom, we’re going to see the Mad Men Movie at the Neptune. We’ll see you at McHenry’s for pizza after the show. Enjoy your date!” <p>“Oh,” I said. What could I say? O Gee! Let’s leave? I don’t want to date you? We’d avoided any suggestion or appearance of dating for six years while becoming the best of friends. We’d met for lunches before. We hung out together with our friends. Why should this be any different? “What do you want to do?” I asked. She snapped her phone off muttering that she’d deal with her daughter later. Then she turned to look me square in the eyes. <p>“I haven’t been on a date in ages,” she said, smiling. She reached over and took my hand, holding it firmly in her own. “I’m going to enjoy myself.” <p>That sounded like a really good plan to me. <p align="center">*** <p>After the movie we walked over to McHenry’s and found a quiet table for four. We ordered a small pizza and a couple of cokes. We figured we’d let the girls order their own when they got there. The movie was enjoyable. There was nothing profound about it. Four children played superheroes together in a vacant lot that became all kinds of settings in their imaginations. Their superpowers were what you’d expect 8-12 year-olds to come up with. One could belch toxic gas. One could scream so loud it would shatter steel. One could reverse gravity by walking on his hands. One could whistle through his teeth so sharply that only dogs could hear him. Their pretend superpowers were variously called into play to solve the kind of dire predicaments a child’s imagination could devise. <p>Then they faced a real emergency. They had to depend on themselves and each other to get through a catastrophe. And for just an instant—when most needed—their superpowers became real. It was sweet, innocent, and a really good date movie. Andi and I had been discussing it ever since we left the theater, talking about how literature, movies, music, and art didn’t have to be great to be good. <p>“So what is your superpower, Dag Hamar?” she asked me. Now I was on the spot. I could code a cyber-attack in under two hours? No. I needed something just ridiculous enough that it fit with the movie, but still be something that I could actually do. Now the Navy had taught me something. There was one trick my shipmates had said always got the girls’ attention in bars. I practiced until I could do it. Then I tried it out. The results were unspectacular, but it was all I had to go with. <p>“I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue,” I answered with a straight face. I could see her face fall, then change. I was afraid it was too coarse. <p>“Oh. Oh?” A long pause. Her eyes got wide. “Oh!” <p>“Now, Miz Marx,” I pressed before she could question me further. “What is your superpower?” I could see the wheels turning in her head. <p>“Hmmm. I can swim two lengths of the pool underwater.” I did some quick calculations. <p>“That would mean you can hold your breath for…” <p>“A little less than two minutes—while exercising.” <p>“Oh. Oh?” It was my turn to be taken aback. “Oh!” <p>Had we just inadvertently changed our relationship? All these years we’d been friends and we were just friends. No, we weren’t just friends. We’d truly become best friends. I’d never felt there was anything I couldn’t talk to Andi about. I’d been a wreck when Hope left me and she was both sage and comforter. She’d told me about hard problems she had as a single parent and I’d listened and given support, even though I couldn’t possibly imagine what it was like. We’d each come through our various crises intact. Our friendship had continued to get stronger. We’d teased each other, but we’d never crossed the line into openly flirting. They say that love, like murder, requires means, motive, and opportunity. Since I’d known Andi, there’d never been a time when all three of those came together. Until… <p>“Where are those girls?” Andi said suddenly. She pulled her cell phone out. “I didn’t turn my phone on after the movie.” As soon as the phone came to life, it chimed with a text message. She read it and smiled. “Little minx,” she whispered. She held the phone out for me to see the message. <p>“Mom, I’ve got really bad cramps so I had Mel drop me off at home. Don’t hurry. I’m fine. Hope you enjoy your date.” <p>“I am, you know?” she said as we left the restaurant and started the walk down the hill toward our homes. <p>“Am what?” <p>“Enjoying my date.” She slipped her hand back into mine and reached across with her other hand to hold my upper arm while she hugged herself close to me. <p>“Are you cold?” I asked. <p>“It’s a little brisk,” she confessed. I extracted my arm, pulled my jacket off and wrapped it around her. Then I took her right hand in my left and wrapped my right arm around her shoulders. She reached up with her left hand to hold the hand on her shoulder and we walked on in a promenade. Unless you are dancing, that particular position means that you move slowly. That was just fine for both of us. <p align="center">*** <p>A kiss is really a simple thing. The popular movie kiss is all tongues fighting with each other. But a kiss isn’t about the tongue. It’s the lips—soft, warm, welcoming lips that hold you with no more effort than the lightest touch. The tongue might convey passion, but the lips reveal true emotion. <p>We stood on her front porch like two teenagers experiencing a kiss for the first time—neither of us willing to break the contact, but softly caressing the mouth of a new love, wrapped up in the sensation of some 10,000 nerve endings making contact with each other for the first time. <p>We looked into each other’s eyes as we touched our lips together, neither of us certain how the other would respond. I watched Andi’s eyelids slowly drift closed and then felt the tip of her tongue caress every one of those nerves. Our tongues touched and then darted back into our own mouths, leaving our lips together for another brief eternity. <p>She pulled away, slowly, then handed me my jacket. I’d forgotten I’d worn one. She sighed and then she whispered, “Goodnight.” <p>“Goodnight,” I said. I backed up off her porch and crossed the postage stamp yard to the alley where I mounted the back stairs to the third floor. I savored her kiss, a smile still on my lips where hers had so recently played. I turned and looked back down from the third floor landing before I went into the building. Andi was still standing there looking up at me, smiling. We stood a moment, connected by our eyes and then she waved and went into her house. <p>I stood there lost in thought, my hand raised to her, then turned and unlocked the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror as I hung up my coat. I’d almost become used to the naked face now, but I hadn’t seen that silly grin on it since I was a teenager. <p>I was falling in love.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7311313183162591347.post-23842109644933307792011-04-22T07:50:00.000-07:002011-11-10T07:51:00.751-08:00Ere You Went To Bed<blockquote><p><em>Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,<br />
That you do lie so late?<br />
—Macbeth II.iii</em></p></blockquote><p>The phone vibrating on my desk eventually woke me up. I snatched it up and answered before I looked to see who was calling. <p>“Hamar.” <p>“Where the hell are you? Your team meeting started ten minutes ago,” Darlene snapped at me. <p>“Damn!” I looked at the clock on the screen and discovered it was 9:42. I’d only slept a couple of hours, but I’d forgotten entirely about the team meeting this morning. “Tell them I got caught in traffic. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” <p>“Wait! You must shower, shave, and dress right. It’s business casual on Fridays. Slacks, no ties. I’ll tell them half an hour. I sent you home to change.” <p>“That’s better than traffic?” <p>“Trust me. Oh. And thanks for the flowers.” <p>“Okay. Half an hour. I’m moving.” The line went dead and I stripped and headed for the shower. I took just enough time to shave carefully. I was beginning to get the hang of it, but one bad move and I’d have no facial hair at all. I chose black slacks, a white Oxford shirt, and my gray cashmere sweater. I wasn’t sure how casual business casual was, so I didn’t want to go without a shirt no matter how much I liked the feel of the cashmere against my skin. <p>I skipped coffee and was at the office ready to enter the conference room in 28 minutes. I was lucky with the bus. Before I was visible from the conference room windows, Arnie caught up with me and called me to a stop. <p>“Whew. I almost missed you,” he said as he pulled me to a stop. <p>“Sorry, I was rushing to team meeting. I’m late.” <p>“I know. That’s why I’m here. Please don’t make a habit of this. You and I have been talking for the past hour. I’ll apologize for keeping you away from the meeting.” <p>“Darlene said she’d tell them she sent me home to change clothes.” <p>“That would have worked, but this is more plausible. I didn’t come into the office until after the meeting started, so none of them know we weren’t together off-site. Just listen closely and follow along.” I nodded and Arnie pulled the door open and pushed me through. <p>“You’re late,” Jen barked. She halted suddenly as Arnie pushed through behind me. <p>“My fault,” he said. “I intercepted Dag on the way in this morning and asked to go over his report with him. We got into a discussion about the viability of IPv6 and lost track of time. If Darlene hadn’t buzzed us, we’d still be down at the Daybreak.” Now why had he suggested that scenario for our discussion? Was he the one who suggested the IP address as “IGotUrBak” on all those forums? It certainly seemed that he had my back this morning. And it made sense that he might have been the one sending me the message since he hadn’t shown up for the beer bash last night. I knew everyone else in the room was with me up until I headed home. <p>“What’s IPv6 got to do with IPSec?” Ford asked. <p>“Well, technically, the spec only provides for a few gazillion unique web addresses,” I said. “Part of the network discover protocol spec emphasizes the use of IPSec to protect NDP messages, but there’s no instructions for using it. That means we could be vulnerable to a massive security hole if we don’t do some R&D in the next year to 18 months. It’s part of a proposal I’m putting together to attend the IPSec working committee conference coming up in July. Actually, it’s Ford that suggested that in the first place.” <p>“I’ll leave you folks to it, since I’ve heard all this before. Sorry to have made Dag late for your team meeting.” <p>When Arnie walked out the door, all eyes turned back to me and they started bombarding me with questions. I professed that I’d just come across this information and that I’d been up a good bit of the night exploring an IPv6 site. I commented on how orderly everything seemed, but how difficult it was to protect with so many IPv4 portals connecting into it. When we broke up the meeting, it was noon and I’d talked myself hoarse. It was a good thing I’d spent so much time exploring that site last night or I wouldn’t have known a thing about what I was talking about. Of course, if I hadn’t been up all night trying to break into the site in the first place, I wouldn’t have slept late and been late for the meeting. <p>I went to the cafeteria for lunch and when I sat to eat, Jen pulled up a chair and sat across from me. <p>“Do you mind?” she asked pleasantly. <p>“No. Please, have a seat.” <p>“That was a nice bit of work this morning. I fail to see how it is ultimately going to be relevant, though. We really aren’t going to have to do that R&D here. They’ll get around to doing it in Redmond or Silicon Valley and we’ll buy a package complete. But, it was still a great way to distract everyone from anything you might really be doing.” <p>“What do you mean?” <p>“Part of this team’s charter seems to be subterfuge. We have projects we work on and show results to each other, but no one on the team is focused on our team.” <p>“Isn’t that a little counter-productive?” I looked at her curiously. We hadn’t had much one-on-one time since I got here. Last night she’d been affable, but just part of a group. Today she wore her version of business casual, which was a print skirt that fell just below her knees and a silk blouse with a black camisole keeping her from exposing more than a business-acceptable amount of cleavage. It was really quite an appealing look. <p>“It could be, but I’m inclined to trust management on this one. We really do have security problems looming and pitting these team members against each other is one way of pushing them to the limits.” She seemed to be assessing me in much the same way. “You know, by the way, that the size tag is still on your slacks, running down your left pants leg?” <p>I looked down. I hadn’t even seen the tag. I wondered if there was one on the other pair I’d bought as well. I stripped the transparent, sticky strip off the leg and folded it up on my tray. <p>“So now I at least know you wear a 32x36 pair of slacks. Am I going to have to figure everything else about you out the hard way?” <p>“Why don’t you start with what you know and then what you want to know?” I asked. “If I can help you, I will.” <p>“Okay. Why did Arnie hire a private investigator?” Whoa! It was too off the wall for that to be a random guess. <p>“What makes you think I’m a PI?” <p>“I’m pretty good at searching for information. I searched state records for your name and discovered your PI license.” <p>“You’re a pretty good hacker then, too,” I said. “Those records aren’t open to the public.” <p>“I have my ways.” <p>“Then suffice it to say that anything I’m hired to do as a private investigator is covered under client privilege and I can’t say anything about it to anyone, including you.” <p>“Okay. So maybe you could tell me what kind of work you do in your private investigation business so that I will know if I ever need someone,” she asked coyly. I’d almost say she was flirting, but perhaps she was just trying to lighten up the mood a little. <p>“Mostly, I fix computers,” I said, trying to make it sound as boring as possible. “I’m also an expert, I suppose, on data recovery. That could either be erased files or damaged media.” <p>“Sounds like a waste of your skills. Who is Lars Anderson?” <p>“You can’t hold an agency license until you have two years experience in this state. Lars owns the agency that holds my PI license. He’s an old friend from my Navy days.” I felt confident in mentioning the Navy since that was on my resume and I was sure she’d read it. <p>“Why do you need a PI license to recover hard drives?” <p>“I don’t, technically. But it will give me some latitude to handle investigative cases. Let’s say you suspect your husband…” <p>“I’m not married.” That came out rather quickly. She was looking at me intently. I wasn’t going bite. <p>“Let’s say a married woman suspects her husband of cheating. In divorce court, she might demand the record of his private email. When the court issues a civil warrant, she discovers the email has all been erased. Her attorney might bring me the computer and ask me to recover the deleted email.” I saw her nodding. “It’s part of digital forensic science and has very specific practices that have to be adhered to. Since I would be handling legal evidence, I need to be licensed and bonded.” <p>“Fascinating,” she smiled. “I could just listen to you talk about digital forensics all day.” I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. I knew my description didn’t impress her, but I wasn’t prepared for what came next. “Why don’t you take me to dinner tonight and tell me more?” <p>Damn! <p>“Um…” I couldn’t believe I was almost tongue-tied, but this was definitely going no further. “Do you suppose any of the guys on the team want to ask me out, too? I mean, both women have. It would only be fair for the men to have a chance, too.” She went scarlet. <p>“It was just a friendly invitation,” she said coldly. “I think we’ve covered everything we need to for our one-on-one today, so there’s no need to come by my office this afternoon. It’s been so nice this afternoon, I think I’ll knock off and start my weekend early. See you Monday.” <p>She was gone. I was relieved. I didn’t even have to tell her I had a date tonight. <p align="center">*** <p>With my lack of sleep for the past two days, the idea of knocking off early was appealing. I headed back to my office and stopped to thank Darlene for covering for me this morning. Her office had enough flowers in it to be a funeral parlor. <p>“Darlene? Are you in there?” <p>“Hi Dag. Thank you for the flowers.” <p>“You’re welcome, but I didn’t send all these.” <p>“I know. Yours got here first thing this morning. I picked them up at reception on my way in,” she said. “Just about noon, all the others arrived. One from Allen, one from Don, one from Ford, one from Phil, and even one from Jen. Wasn’t that nice of her? Of course, the fact that I paraded your flowers around the office before your meeting this morning telling everyone how nice you were to have remembered Administrative Professionals Day might have had something to do with inspiring everyone else. I don’t think anyone else had a clue.” <p>“What about Arnie? Didn’t he send you flowers?” <p>“Oh no. I just had a card from him… a little cash card kind of thing to use at Nordstrom.” She smiled and I could see exactly how devious a person she was. “This day almost makes putting up with their crap the rest of the year worthwhile.” She was definitely being sarcastic. She even rolled her eyes in a way that reminded me of Cali and Mel. <p>“I’ll try to make sure you are shown proper appreciation for all the crap I throw at you. I really do appreciate your running interference. Say, did Arnie tell you the new direction my research is going? I’m afraid it might mean some extra work for you,” I said, thinking of all the new security stuff we came up with on the fly. <p>“Yes. Fortunately, I just make the reports look good. He has to do the research.” <p>“You mean I just caused more work for him?” <p>“Don’t worry, he loves it. It gives him something to look forward to when he’s in executive staff meetings and poring over spreadsheets,” she paused and looked up at me. “Nice sweater, by the way. Don’t you need to go get ready for your big date tonight?” It was only two in the afternoon, but if I could get a nap before Faculty Lounge, the whole evening would be better. <p>“I was just stopping to tell you I was taking off for the rest of the day. Frankly, I do some of my best work at night, which was why I overslept this morning.” <p>“Well, if you go home and nap, set an alarm so you’ll wake up in time for your date.” She waved at me. “Go on!” <p>I had used the excuse of having a date tonight to such good effect, I was even beginning to think of the outing with Andi, Mel, and Cali as a date. <p>I needed to get a handle on that. It was just a thank you for picking up the girls.</p>Wayzgoosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02732121654746019162noreply@blogger.com0