The Hermetrius Conspiracy Read online

  Right now he was bushed so he grabbed a shower, checked to see if he had any more emails from Bob. There was nothing from Bob but he did have a new email from Lynn:

  Hi Jack,

  The nights are getting cold up here. We had one brief snow storm already, well not really a storm. It snowed hard for half a day, then the sun came out and had all the roads melted off by late afternoon. There’s not enough snow for skiing yet, but it won’t be long.

  I had to take O’Malley, my Irish setter, to the vet today. She took off chasing a bobcat and apparently caught up to it, because she came home with her face all scratched up. Nothing serious, but I hope she learned her lesson. She’s the only company I have up here and she’s a great watch dog, so I would hate to lose her.

  Are you still on the road? I assume it’s one of your consulting jobs. It must be nice being a semi-retired consultant who can work when he feels like it. When you’re on the road do you fly to your assignments or drive? I’ve always enjoyed driving around the U.S. on the back roads with the great scenery, real people, and greasy burgers and fries.

  I haven’t traveled much at all since my husband and I split up. I have plenty of money saved up so I could go just about anywhere I wanted to, but travelling alone is only fun for a little while and I don’t have any women friends – at least none that I want to travel with.

  I have attached two photos of me. One that I had taken for a passport a couple of years ago and another on the deck of my house. I hope it doesn’t shatter your vision of me from my school days.

  I’ll look forward to your next email.

  Lynn

  Jack opened the photos, and liked what he saw. Her face was easily recognizable from his memory of her in high school. One thing he noticed is that she smiled with her mouth and her eyes. People who only smile with their mouths are faking it. The full-length picture showed a tall, well-shaped woman standing in a relaxed position, with one elbow leaning on the deck railing and the other hand on her hip. He was looking forward to meeting her.

  #

  Jack got up early the next morning, while the nighttime chill was still in the air, put on his spandex jogging suit with a snug hood hat hid everything but his eyes, and headed out the back exit of the hotel. He looked for trails through the waist-high scrub brush and found several, including one that took him within 20 feet of the chain link fence. He ran along that trail until he was out of sight of the Silicon Systems building, then turned around and ran back along the fence looking for a way in. The 4-foot bank leading up to the base of the fence was mostly large rocks and it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for – a large-diameter rock wedged into the bank below the fence. He stopped to tie his shoe and got a closer look at it. He saw where he could wedge a small bottle jack behind it and push it free to roll down the bank. It would look like erosion had freed it, so there would be no evidence of his entry. He sprayed a small spot of a colorless paint on the rock and the fence and then jogged back to the hotel, spraying some more paint on the bushes here and there so he could find his way at night.

  After he had some breakfast he drove to an auto parts store and bought a 6-ton bottle-style hydraulic jack. He spent the rest of the day trying to find out something about Hermetrius. He went into the Darknet and searched on the name, but after 30 seconds the search engine shut down and wouldn’t let him back on. He must have touched a nerve. Another dead end.

  Next he hacked into the computer systems of several Government agencies to see of the name showed up there. He didn’t have time to worm his way into the classified files. Again nothing showed up.

  How about Google? He typed in “Hermetrius” and got several hits, all for a mythological Greek god of vengeance and retribution. His other attributes included deceit and trickery. Jack wondered if this guy’s code name was chosen for it’s meaning, or was it just some random word.

  Jack ate an early supper and slept for a couple of hours. He woke up just before midnight and put on the black jogging suit and hood. He packed the jack, gloves, a few tools, a spy camera, and an ultraviolet flashlight into a back pack. The fluorescent paint he sprayed on the fence and bushes was invisible unless it’s illuminated by UV light, then it glows green. His UV flashlight would show the way to the fence and back, but the beam would be invisible to the human eye.

  He had no trouble finding the big rock again. He wedged the bottle jack behind it and started pumping the handle. After a dozen strokes the rock broke loose and rolled down the bank. The hole it left just below the fence was big enough for him to crawl through. Once he got under the fence he set out at a trot for the back door. As he got near the building he froze. There was someone beside the door smoking a cigarette. Was it a guard posted at the back door? Or just someone stepping out for a smoke. Jack had to stay where he was, frozen in place, for five minutes before the smoker was finished and went back inside. Finally he could move. His muscles were complaining big time but he couldn’t take time to stretch and relax them for a few minutes.

  Jack eased his way to the door and inspected the lock. It looked the same as the last time he was here two years ago, but what were the chances they had changed the button combination since then. If they had, he would have to use the crowbar he brought on the door, but that would leave evidence of his visit. He quietly punched in the memorized numbers and slowly turned the handle. Click! It worked. He opened the door just a crack and slipped a flexible fiber optic spy scope into the crack. He scanned the room and found it empty, then he aimed the scope up high looking for surveillance cameras. He lucked out again. He opened the door just enough to slip inside and put a piece of duct tape over the door latch so he could get back out silently.

  He took the stairs to the second floor, and used his spy scope again to make sure there were no surveillance cameras and that no one was in the hallway. The file room was fifty feet down the hall and around the corner – at least that’s where the files were two years ago. He taped the latch on the stairway door and headed for the file room. He said a quick prayer, punched in the combination on the door, and turned the handle. Click! His luck was holding out.

  Here’s were things got risky. Guards made their rounds up and down the hallways every fifteen minutes, and they didn’t stick to an exact schedule. That wouldn’t be a problem except that the file room had large windows facing the hallway, so if a guard came by while Jack was photographing the file, he was caught.

  He went to the same file cabinet where he put the fake file folder in on his first visit. All the cabinets were locked, but they were no match for his lock picking skills. In thirty seconds he had the drawer open and was searching for the file number. It wasn’t there! None of the file numbers were even close to what he was looking for. He looked around and saw that there were only eight cabinets in the room instead of the twelve they had two years ago. Where did the other files go?

  A desk in the corner of the room held a computer and page scanner, and a stack of files. That’s it! They were converting from paper files to a computer filing system. If they had already scanned in the fake file it was probably shredded by now. He looked through the stacked files first but the one he was looking for wasn’t there. Maybe as they scanned in the files they rearranged the remaining files in the cabinets. He didn’t have time to pick the other seven cabinet locks. He started looking at the labels on the file drawers and saw they each had a range of consecutive file numbers. He found the drawer that should have the fake file in it three cabinets down the line. He picked he lock and opened the top drawer. There it was, halfway back in the drawer!

  He pulled the file out and opened it on the floor to get pictures of every page. He had just started when the door knob rattled! Someone was checking to make sure it was locked. He saw a flashlight shine through the window and around the room. He slipped under the desk with the file and camera. The guard wouldn’t be able to see him easily, even if he entered the room. The flashlight made one more pass around the room and stopped .
. . on the open file drawer Jack took the file from. The guard unlocked the door and came in for a closer look. He used the flashlight to scan the room looking for anything else out of order, then pulled out his radio.

  “Security central this is unit 14 on the second floor. I found a file drawer open in the records room. There’s nothing else unusual, though. Advise please.”

  “Uhhh . . . Unit 14, go ahead and close the drawer, then report back here. I’ll call the boss and see what he wants us to do.”

  “Roger that, central.”

  After closing the drawer and locking the cabinet he left the room and closed he door.

  With a gasp Jack started breathing again. He didn’t know he could hold his breath that long. No time for picture taking or breaking back into the cabinet to replace it. He had to take the file and get out fast, hoping they wouldn’t miss it until its turn to be scanned came up.

  Jack left the file room and hurried around the corner to the exit stairs. Just as he closed the stairwell door he heard two men talking as they hurried down the hallway to the records room. He took the stairs three at a time to the bottom floor, dashed to the back door, and ripped off the duct tape as he went out. Building security could set off an alarm anytime so he had to get to the fence and back to the hotel before everything hit the fan.

  He couldn’t remember exactly where he came in through the fence, and his UV flashlight only had a range of ten feet, so he had to run along the fence twice before he saw the glowing spot on the fence. He had wasted almost a minute finding his escape hole. As he slid backwards through the hole, he heard several vehicles coming up the Silicon Systems driveway. He risked a look and saw half a dozen men jump out of the cars and rush to the front door of the building.

  Jack turned and ran through the brush to the hotel. Back in his room he stripped off the jogging clothes and put on his jeans and flannel shirt. With everything in the backpack he went down to his car in the parking garage, tossed the backpack in, and left. He didn’t see or hear any police cars, which was good news, at least for now. If they were alerted he might have to worry about roadblocks. He joined the early commuters on the interstate system heading north and took I-80 toward Sacramento. There was enough traffic now that his vehicle would be just one of thousands headed to the California capital. His plan was to take I-80 all the way to Salt Lake City and stop for the night. Where he went after that depended on what he found in the stolen file.

  Chapter 8

  George Jenkins laid down on the couch in his Blackworth Security office for a short after-lunch nap. One of the perks of being the boss. Just as he got comfortable his desk phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but he knew better. His assistant wouldn’t have bothered him at nap time unless it was important. It might be some crisis with a client he would have to respond to.

  He picked up the phone. “What is it, Joan?”

  “Someone code named Hermetrius. He said it was urgent.”

  “O.K. Put him through . . . Hello sir. What can I do for you.”

  “I got an encrypted message for our man inside Silicon Systems earlier. Do you remember a mission named Shiloh back in 2012?”

  “Yes sir, I do. We arranged for an FRA agent to plant a file for you in their records.”

  “Apparently someone broke in last night and removed the file. Only that file.”

  “What! How could that happen. And why that file?”

  “Someone might be trying to sabotage our upcoming operation. Without that file in place to expose to the public at the right time, we can’t pull it off. At least not on the schedule we laid out. The other five files won’t be enough evidence. We were going to expose the Silicon Systems file to kick off the entire offensive on the election. Who would want to steal that file?”

  George thought for a minute. “I don’t know, sir. I didn’t think we had any opposition. But apparently we do. Going after the key file definitely shows some knowledge of your plans.”

  “O.K. Let’s ask who could pull off the theft. It wasn’t someone from your Organization, was it? Another client you’re working with?”

  “Definitely not sir. I would never cross you! You have enough dirt on Blackworth Security to put us all in prison. You could probably have old man Blackworth exhumed and send him to prison, too.”

  “A mission like this would take some knowledge of Silicon System’s floor plan and security procedures. They didn’t break into anything – they knew the lock codes. And they must have had keys to the filing cabinets. Those cabinets have top of the line locks on them. They are supposed to be pick proof.”

  George search his mind. Oh no! “Sir, the only man I know who could get into the facility and file cabinets is the man who exchanged the files on the Shiloh mission . . . Jack Preston. He worked for the FRA for 30 years, but he retired six months ago, two months after his wife died.”

  “Well go grab him and let’s see what he tell us.”

  “There’s a problem with that sir. The Agency has had us keeping an eye on him for the past month. He lives in a cabin in eastern West Virginia. We had him under 24/7 surveillance until he disappeared two weeks ago.”

  “Yes, I know about that. The Agency is working for me on this. We tried to frame him for a . . . a felony when he was in the D.C. area, but he slipped away from our trap. How are you going to find him for me, George?”

  “Well, we’re following up on a lead. An email from an old high school girl friend. They exchanged a couple of emails before he left the cabin, so we’re hoping he will show up there.”

  “”Do you know where she lives?”

  “Uh . . . we don’t know exactly. We know her name is Lynn Martin, maiden name Spence, and she lives in mountain home up in the Rocky Mountains. Oh, and she’s a redhead.”

  “Wow. With leads like that how can you miss.” the caller said with a note of sarcasm.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds, sir. Her name isn’t that common. We’ve identified 23 women living in the U.S. Rocky Mountains with that name, and we have some agents trying to run down all of them. Even if we can’t zero in immediately, there couldn’t be many redheads among them.”

  “Natural redheads maybe, but it sounds like a good strategy. Maybe the emails sparked something that will draw him to her. Mr. Preston, and the file he stole, have to be found no later than the end of next week. Much sooner if possible.”

  “Yes sir, we’ll do our best” but the line was dead already.

  Chapter 9

  Jack stopped at another Mom and Pop motel outside of Salt Lake City, one with concrete block walls. The excitement at Silicon Systems and the 12-hour drive from San Jose left him drained. After a quick shower followed by some Chinese carry out, he crashed for the next eight hours.

  After he woke up he was ready to see what the file had in it that could possibly be useful two years later. The first thing he did was photograph everything and store it as an encrypted file on his computer. He also forwarded it to his home server to be stored on a hidden computer there. Then he went through it slowly, a page at a time.

  It was a contract file for a major Government project, some specialized computer equipment. The first few pages were a statement of what the contractor, Silicon Systems, would deliver to the Government. The next section was the delivery schedule – 2,500 units delivered over six months. It must have been a big contract for the company. He saw just how big when he turned to the last Section – Project Accounting. The total contract was worth $45 million. It listed budgeted amounts, itemized expenditures, and overruns. A page titled “Special Expenses” completed the file. It listed six payments of $250,000 each to a single numbered account. This was interesting. Who was Silicon Systems paying off? Did some government official swing the contract award their way and this was his reward? The key was the numbered account.

  Jack realized that if he did a search on the account number it might pop up a flag that would warn someone was looking. But if he changed the last three digits he might
at least find out where the account was located. He went into Darknet and searched the modified number. It came back as the First Caribbean Bank of Barbados. Getting the name of the account holder would be a lot tougher. The IRS had a way to view those accounts secretly. He would have to go in through the Internal Revenue Service computer system and snatch the identity of one of their international banking investigators, then hack into the bank’s computer system using those credentials. Jack knew from experience that he would have to hack into the IRS computer a little at a time, maybe over a day or two, to keep from being detected. Each time he went in, he would get a little deeper into the system, until he got what he wanted.

  Two days later he had gotten through the IRS system and was ready to get into the bank records. He’d have to get in and out in a few seconds to avoid detection. His software would make it look like a short hiccup in the bank’s computer system, but that wouldn’t fool them for long. He set the software up and hit enter. Three and a half seconds later he had the account holder’s name and shut all the doors he had opened in the IRS and bank computer systems.

  He waited a few minutes to make sure some software wizard hadn’t found a way to follow him as he backed out. He got away clean. His heart always raced on these forays into forbidden computers because the younger generation of hackers comes up with innovative and unexpected techniques every day. When the Government catches them it offers a deal – go to jail or work for us nailing other hackers. Someday one of the really bright ones was going to catch him.

  Let’s see who owns the numbered account . . . Whoa! It’s Senator William Forsythe. He was the one getting payoffs - $1.5 million in all, still in the account – probably to steer the contract to Silicon Systems. So was this the fake information in the file he switched? He didn’t see anything else that could be interesting to anyone. Bob said it was about the information in the inserted file, not in the file he extracted. Was this last page added to have something to blackmail Forsythe with? Or to discredit him? He was high on the list of contenders of the democrat presidential candidates for the upcoming election. If they – whoever is behind this – were going to use the file to put pressure on Forsythe, that made getting the file back essential to them. ‘But why are they trying to frame me? What threat could I be to them?’