Stanford University
A distant bell rang disturbingly, waking Jarrod Conrad from his slumber. At first he was disoriented, having fallen into an intoxicated sleep; it took several seconds to realize that the phone beckoned a response. His head throbbed painfully as he glanced at the clock. It was after 3:00 a.m. Then he recalled the three glasses of wine he imbibed after leaving the lab. He cursed the caller for interrupting his sleep. He couldn’t imagine who might be calling at this ungodly hour, but they would get a double-barreled blast of his unmitigated wrath.
Jarrod figured it was probably Millicent, the kiss-ass graduate student he was forced to mentor. She had no sense of propriety, calling about every mundane thing that happened in his absence. Her undisciplined behavior was exactly why Jarrod Conrad had resisted the dean’s request to work with graduate students. In the end, however, he was given an ultimatum: Mentor a handful of students like every other professor in the astrophysics program, or lose tenure at the university. He hated the dean for blackmailing him this way.
“Conrad,” he answered ill-temperedly, summoning his most disagreeable voice. “This better be important.”
“Dr. Jarrod Conrad, from Quantum Dimensions?” the caller asked.
“Yes, this is Dr. Conrad. Please identify yourself and why you’ve awakened me. Do you realize the time? It’s bad manners to call people after midnight, you know,” he said rapidly, never pausing to allow the caller to respond.
“I do apologize for interrupting your sleep, Dr. Conrad. This is Lieutenant David Morris, from the Palo Alto Police. Would it be possible for you to return to your office, sir?”
“This better not be a practical joke, mister. Where are you calling from?” Jarrod hotly asked.
“Unfortunately, this is a very serious matter, Dr. Conrad,” Morris replied, not surprised Conrad wanted verification. “I’m standing in your office, looking at photos of the Forty-Niners. Your lab was broken into. We’re trying to determine the extent of the burglary,” he said authoritatively. “Is that enough validation…or shall I have a patrolman pick you up?”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Officer,” Jarrod replied, now ashamed he had treated the caller so disrespectfully. “Please excuse my manner…it’s very early. I was in a deep sleep. I thought one of my pain-in-the-ass graduate students was playing a practical joke. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Thanks for your understanding, Dr. Conrad,” Morris replied. “We’ll be expecting you.”
Jarrod Conrad used every modicum of restraint to keep from slamming down the phone. His research was a closely guarded secret. Only a handful of select associates knew about his research on the super unified theorem. Great…just great, he thought. Someone knows about the gravity research. That fucking Penburton!
He took a quick shower to help sober up, dressed in casual clothes, and left his home for the six-minute trip to the Quantum Building. His heart sank as he approached the back entrance. There was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights cascading over the building. Then he saw the paramedic’s vehicle and an ambulance. Why would paramedics be called to a burglary?
His apprehension mounted after running into a gauntlet of police officers questioning his arrival. To make matters worse, he witnessed the paramedics wheeling someone out draped in a white cloth, obviously dead. What in God’s name happened here? he wondered, approaching the lobby elevator.
Exiting the elevator on the fifth floor did not assuage his mounting anxiety. As soon as he entered the hallway, yet another plain-clothes officer approached to verify his identification. He was then escorted to his office, which was occupied by three men he had never before seen.
“I’m Jarrod Conrad. Who’s in charge here?” he immediately asked.
“Dr. Conrad, I’m Lieutenant Morris from the Palo Alto Police Department, Special Investigations Unit,” he said, extending his hand to the professor. “I called you earlier. Again, I apologize for the intrusion, but as you can see…we have a serious situation in your office.” Morris could tell from the pale, crestfallen look on Conrad’s face that he was overwhelmed.
“Yes, yes, nice to meet you, Officer,” Jarrod replied distractedly, shaking Morris’s hand while staring at the man working at his computer terminal. “Can you tell me what happened? And what’s he doing?”
“Certainly. That is Detective Sal Palatino, the department’s expert on computer espionage.” Sal was busily working at the twenty-four-inch monitor alongside the professor’s large walnut desk. “He’ll need your help with a few things. But, first, let me explain what’s occurred here this evening, Doctor,” Morris said, guiding him toward the opening in the large picture window.
For the next several minutes, Morris explained in painstaking detail what the police had discovered. Because it didn’t look like anything was physically missing, he speculated that whoever had breached the office was after something on the computer-hence the need for a programmer. Lastly, he questioned Dr. Conrad about the note that was found. He asked about the company on the logo, and if this was something he had inadvertently left behind.
“Well, that son-of-a-bitch,” Conrad fumed when Detective Reynolds showed him the note from Levitation Solutions, Inc. “My cousin, Ryan Marshall, owns this company. And no…this is not a note I dropped in my office,” he said, pacing like a caged animal. “I do, however, recognize his handwriting. I can’t believe the asshole was actually in my office. I know exactly what the bastard was looking for.” He walked furiously over to the desk. “Get out of my way!”
“Okay, let’s just settle down, Dr. Conrad,” Morris replied, blocking his path toward Detective Palatino. “The fact that the note’s on stationary from your cousin’s company and the handwriting looks like his doesn’t prove anything. I admit, it looks suspicious…but let’s not jump to conclusions. Now that we know about your cousin’s possible involvement, we’ll pick him up for questioning-as soon as we can dispatch an officer in New Mexico to check him out.”
“Don’t placate me, Lieutenant. You don’t have a clue about my cousin, or our history together. We’ve been estranged since childhood. I know for certain that he wants the data I’ve been working on in this office. I hate the prick every bit as much as he hates me. Make no mistake…he’s at the bottom of this,” Conrad seethed. “Now, if you’ll kindly get your ass out of my chair, I’d like to see for myself the extent of my cousin’s latest affront.”
“I beg your pardon,” Sal Palatino said defensively. “I can appreciate you’re upset, Doctor. But, I’m here to help.” He stood reluctantly to let Conrad take his seat in front of the terminal.
“Well, if you want to help, maybe you can explain how my cousin was able to hack his way past our security protocols on the IBM mainframe. This isn’t some simplified network that a novice could hack, let alone my incompetent cousin. Quantum has a massive firewall in place.”
“I haven’t been able to access the mainframe yet,” Sal replied. “My first priority was to investigate the extent to which your work station was compromised. The only thing I can tell you so far is that the last person to access this machine used the password. Since I obviously don’t know the password, I’ve been searching the backdoor.”
“Wait a second…you’re telling me whoever was in here also had my password?” Conrad asked incredulously. “That’s impossible. I’m the only one that knows the password.”
“Well, then…good news,” Sal replied sarcastically. “Like I said, the last person to get into the files of your work station had access through the normal interface protocol. That means you were the last one to access your machine-about ten-fifteen last night, according to the internal clock.”
“That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t in the lab last night…and none of my colleagues or graduate students has the access code. So where does that leave us?” he asked, trying to comprehend how anyone could have identified amerigodevina as the proper password.
“If you’ll allow me to search your system directory,” Sal answered, watching the screen come alive as Conrad opened his files, “maybe I can discover the answer to your question. If the hacker’s as sharp as the guys who planned the breach, my guess is they knew their way around your system without needing the password. There are guys out there that could manage this.”
“Okay, give me a minute to check my files…then you’re free to do whatever’s necessary,” Conrad replied, punching the keyboard. He drilled down to a file in the subdirectory entitled SUT, opened it, and slumped forward in his seat. The super unified theorem files normally contained in this directory were missing. His face became ashen, his hands trembled, and a groan emitted from under his breath. In a frenzy, he tried to access the mainframe for the backup files. He froze in panic as a startling realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
“ Nooo! ” he shrieked. “Where are my files? He’s taken my files!”
Everyone in the room turned, startled by the raging scientist’s angst and loss of composure.
Lieutenant Morris rushed to his side, fearing he might need restraint. “Easy, Dr. Conrad…I’m sure there’s an explanation. Let Sal back in there. Give us the password so he can see what happened. He’ll find something…I promise you.”
Conrad stood awkwardly after scribbling his password on the notepad next to his desk. He was shaking his head, mumbling softly to himself: “I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch…I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch…” Finally, he slumped onto the leather sofa at the center of the office, burying his face in his hands, totally dejected.
“Dr. Conrad, is there something we can do for you?” Morris asked, looking for anything that might quell his despair.
“Yes,” Conrad replied, without lifting his face from his hands. “You can bring me Ryan Marshall’s head on a silver platter.”
“Holloway,” he snapped, answering the call. His PDA phone scrambled the transmission to protect his voice from identification and prevent tracing the call. “A mite eager, are we?” he asked, recognizing the caller’s incoming number from the Quantum Building.
“Just wanted to confirm you’ve received the data and that everything is in order,” the caller said. “You assured me no one would be hurt. Apparently, you overestimated your men getting safely out of the building. Any more surprises I need to know about?”
“Don’t lecture me,” Holloway spit back. “It’s none of your concern. I’ve already handled it. Why are you calling?”
“I want to know when to expect my money,” the man replied. “The death of the security guard changes everything. Under the circumstances…I’ll expect your full payment immediately.”
“I don’t give a damn what you expect. You’ll get your thirty pieces of silver as soon as I verify that the contraption you sold me works this time…not a moment before. Is that clear enough for you, or do you need more forceful convincing?” The threat sounded much more menacing through the scrambled, computer-generated voice.
“Threaten all you like, Mr. Holloway,” the man replied. “You seem to forget, however, that I can identify you as the mastermind of this crime. You would be wise not to bully me, sir. That would be foolish.”
“I do not repeat myself,” Holloway replied, infuriated by the caller’s insolence. “Our terms have not changed a whit. And for your edification, Doctor, no one has ever threatened me and lived to tell the tale.”
The phone line went dead.