There had long been rumors of backdoors on encrypted e-mail servers left in place for government access, however, there was no way to verify whether the rumors were true — the e-mail companies insisted there were none, and the government wasn’t talking.
Koshi viewed the insistence that everything was above-board with a highly skeptical eye, given that people routinely lied, early and often. But he’d never actually met anyone with that kind of backdoor access, and no coders had stepped forward to confirm that they’d written them in, so the stories remained rumors. Koshi just assumed they were probably true, because, if he could dictate terms, he would have forced the providers to put them in — legal and ethical or not.
Now that he had run through his bag of tricks, he was at a standstill. He supposed he could contact his web-based network of hackers to see if anyone else could take on the project to penetrate the server, but it would be expensive, likely fruitless, and take a lot of time — if it was even possible to do. He suspected it would be a big fat waste.
His cell rang.
Koshi picked up. “Speak…”
“Koshi. Listen up,” Michael said, “and don’t talk…please. We swept Abe’s office and it was a hot zone. Very high-end, as in non-commercial. And I think the place is under visual surveillance, so we can assume there’s serious weight behind it.”
“Holy crap, Batman…” Koshi exclaimed.
“It gets worse. Abe’s dead. Heart attack, or at least purported heart attack…”
Koshi digested that. “You don’t buy it?”
“I buy that a document so sensitive it was removed from encrypted servers within hours, and which brought in CIA-level hardware placement and a surv team, could be worth going after civilians to contain,” Michael declared. “You want to bet your life on it?”
“That’s just so…I mean, shit like that doesn’t happen,” Koshi protested.
“Again — Koshi, shut up long enough to hear what I’m saying. When I was in the service there were guys who made us look like featherweights — hard as coffin nails. You know what the SEAL program is, so you know I’m not easily impressed…but these guys would fly into a fire zone, disappear for a day or two, and then show back up with the odd scrape or bullet wound and be flown out. They never spoke to anyone. And they weren’t there to do the dishes,” Michael recounted.
“But—”
“I’m trying to tell you there are a lot of things going on that civilians don’t know about. Look, you know I had a classified tag, so you’ll just have to trust me that the world’s an ugly place if you get sideways of the wrong people.”
Koshi finally got it. “So this is bad.”
“It’s really bad…potentially. If someone gets in tonight and goes over the office, they’re going to find your prints all over the keyboard and desk, as well as mine on a bunch of Abe’s stuff. Let’s just assume they can access enforcement databases if they can take e-mails off encrypted servers like it was nothing, okay? Then they want to chitty-chat with you, and me.” Michael breathed in for a beat. “I’m not so sure I want to be on the receiving end of that discussion,” he concluded.
Koshi took a half minute to process the ramifications. “Is there any way you could have gotten this wrong?”
“Only if this is one bastard of a dream and the alarm clock’s about to go off.” Michael stopped, and drew a deep breath. “Koshi. You’ve known me for a long time, and I’m saying as clearly as I can that it’s time to get worried.”
Michael didn’t want to be alarmist, but he wanted Koshi to understand that this wasn’t their usual nine-to-five corporate espionage stuff. He didn’t know how big a deal whatever he was carrying around with him was, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to exercise a little prudence.
“Koshi. We’ve known each other a long time. Have I ever called you like this before? Ever?” Michael paused to collect his thoughts. “We’re in something way out of our league here. This isn’t a drill. Spy-level eavesdropping equipment, military-grade encryption hacking…I’m not sure what Abe was into, but I’m going to lay low until I find out,” Michael concluded. He needed a safe place to spend a few hours reading Abe’s manuscript so he could figure out what exactly they were dealing with. Until then, he’d assume the worst.
The line went silent; seconds followed seconds and stretched into a chasm.
Koshi broke the silence. “All right. I’ll play along. Let’s assume there are serious bad guys who were all over Abe, and maybe they even helped him to the afterlife. All we’ve done is routine security work. You think it’s a good idea to go to ground for a while? Fine. Do what you have to do. I’ll call you later with a web address and a password so we can communicate online outside our usual accounts. Best if we assume the whole world’s watching our normal channels. Use an IP mask at all times when accessing it, as well as when you’re doing anything online. It’ll slow you down a little, but so does a Kevlar vest,” Koshi reflected.
Good old Koshi. Always level-headed and pragmatic. Michael was glad he was on his side.
“Okay. I’ll check in later, maybe around dinner time. I’m going to have my hands full till then,” Michael explained. “I’m sorry I got you into whatever this is.”
“Yeah, you don’t pay me nearly enough. Your rate just skyrocketed…”
Michael chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t blame you.”
“Watch your ass,” Koshi advised.
“You too.”
Michael approached his building cautiously, hyper-aware of everything in his periphery yet without telegraphing as much. He didn’t spot any of the telltale giveaways of surveillance. It was probably the office that was the draw, and no connection to Michael had been made.
Yet.
He whistled as he climbed the steps to his building’s façade and unlocked the front door, taking his time to ensure he was alone. There were no obvious threats, so he mounted the stairs to his third floor apartment, taking a few moments to study his locks for any signs of tampering before entering. They looked fine.
Once inside, he worked quickly. First, he filled a black duffle bag with some clothes and his shaving kit. Next, he went to his bookcase and removed the lower row of books, revealing a panel that was invisible to the eye unless you knew it was there. He pressed one end and raised the panel from the base, setting it on the floor next to the books. Below was a floor-mounted safe recessed into the concrete slab. He spun the dial the correct number of digits and opened it.
Reaching into the tight dark space, Michael carefully extracted several small bundles, which he packed into Abe’s bag. After confirming the safe was empty, he closed the door, spun the dial, and returned the panel and the books to their original position before moving to the bedroom. He hurriedly stripped off his blue suit and donned a pair of jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball hat. Surveying his closet, he decided to forego his suits in favor of jeans and cargo shorts. He emptied several drawers into his duffel, then returned to the living room.
His glanced at his laptop. He methodically powered it down and packed it into Abe’s satchel.
Done. Twelve minutes. At least he hadn’t lost his edge.
Setting the duffle and Abe’s bag by the front door, he opened the hall side-table drawer and removed two keys and an extra ammunition clip for his Glock. No need to check the gun. He knew the magazine was full.