Tim’s mind raced. Any hopes of ending up with Lesley would fly out the window if he were discovered. He had no reasonable explanation for being in Rob’s apartment, especially if they found him hiding in a closet. And Rob would know just where to point the finger when the excitement started at the bank. Tim heard a door open and Lesley said, “I won’t be long.”
Tim slouched further back into the closet. All he could think to do if they found him was run out the door and keep on going.
Rob rose from the couch when Lesley finally emerged from the bathroom.
“At last,” he said. “I thought you were going to spend the night in there.”
“How do I look?” she said.
“Perfect, as usual.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Rob slipped his arms around her waist.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said, and kissed her.
She pulled back. “We better get going before I have to fix my face for a third time.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go anywhere.”
He snuggled in closer and went for her neck.
She pushed him away, more firmly this time.
“No way,” she said. “You promised me a corner table at Antonio’s and I’m holding you to it. Besides, I have to show this diamond ring to somebody tonight, even if it’s only a stranger at a restaurant.”
Rob let go with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay.”
“But if we have enough of that wine, you never know what might happen afterward.”
“Then let’s go.”
That’s when Rob’s cell phone rang.
Tim slumped in the darkness of the closet. His jaw worked in agitation and his breaths came in tiny gasps. He held his mouth open, doing his best to keep his breathing quiet. Being forced to sit and listen while they flirted was almost more than he could bear. And she mentioned a diamond ring! Tim shut his eyes and willed Rob and Lesley to leave so this would be over.
“Oh, man, I can’t,” Rob said into the phone. “I’m totally busy tonight.”
He paused, and then said, “But I’m already doing something important. Can’t you find someone else?” His face became grim while he listened for a moment. Finally he sighed and said, “All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Rob ended the call.
“I’m not going to like it, am I?” Lesley said.
“That was John Kelleher. I have to go in to work right away.”
Lesley groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“There’s some sort of emergency. He wouldn’t tell me what it is.”
“And no one else can handle it?”
“He gave me the choice of coming in tonight or finding another job tomorrow.”
Lesley’s lower lip pushed out in a mock pout. “What a shame. I had such plans for you tonight.”
“Maybe the problem won’t take long to fix.”
“You should be so lucky.”
“Come on, let’s go,” Rob said.
Tim heard the door open and close, and then their footsteps receded in the hallway. Silence engulfed the apartment. The door to the spare bedroom closet remained closed for a long, long time.
CHAPTER THREE
Each of the fourteen branches of the First Malden Bank contained a state-of-the-art, fireproof, walk-in vault with an impressively thick door. Customers visiting any branch could see the vault behind the counter and might reasonably assume the bank’s money was held within.
It was not.
The vaults certainly held their share of valuables, including modest amounts of cash to support day-to-day operations. The vast bulk of First Malden’s monetary holdings, however, resided in a box on the fifth floor of the bank’s headquarters.
The box in question emitted a distinct hum twenty-four hours a day, ran the Unix operating system and was arguably the most important of the several computers in the bank’s data processing center. Bank staff referred to this computer as the account server. Its primary function was to run the Account Management System, or AMS for short. This system kept track of all monetary accounts and the many thousands of deposits, withdrawals, transfers and other account transactions that took place each day.
Security for the account server was multi-faceted and well thought out. The combination of a continuously recharged set of batteries and a dedicated generator on the roof ensured uninterrupted electrical power. In a separate location, a twin of the account server computer maintained a redundant copy of the account database, so bank operations could continue in the event of a fire or other disaster. Both physical and electronic access to all the bank’s computers were severely restricted.
These and other security measures formed a fortress to protect the electronic money from technical breakdowns and human destruction, both accidental and intentional. Unfortunately the fortress had been breached, which was why the people most responsible for creating this particular stronghold had come into the bank on a Monday evening and were gathered in the fifth floor conference room.
Five people occupied high-backed chairs around the long walnut table. Rob sat beside Anthony Finnamore, who fit the prototypical view of a computer geek with his pear-shaped physique, thick glasses and bushy black beard. He also happened to be a gifted database administrator. Next to Finnamore was the wiry AMS system architect, Paul Dees. An avid runner, he was the ultimate authority on how the software worked.
Stan Dysart and John Kelleher had just entered the room and now sat on the opposite side of the table from the other three. Kelleher had graying hair, large round glasses and extra pounds showing out the front of his unbuttoned suit jacket.
“I wasn’t able to reach Tim Whitlock,” Kelleher said to Dysart, “but I left him a message.”
“Do we need him?” Dysart asked.
“He and Rob did the bulk of the programming for the most recent AMS upgrades.”
“Which doesn’t answer my question.”
“We can probably get started without him,” Kelleher said.
Dysart nodded and turned to look at the group. His face was as stern as Rob had ever seen it. “We have an emergency, people.”
Tim entered the room in time to hear Dysart’s words.
“Good,” Dysart said when he saw him, “I won’t have to repeat this.”
Rob raised a hand as Tim sat down, but Tim kept his eyes downcast and gave no indication he noticed the greeting.
“Someone breached the security for AMS,” Dysart said. “It looks like cyberterrorists have attacked our bank.”
Rob’s mouth fell open as he stared in disbelief at Dysart.
“I’ll let John and Paul explain the details,” Dysart continued, “but first I want to impress upon you how imperative it is to treat this information as absolutely confidential.”
Dysart scanned around the table, making eye contact with each person in turn. “This is need-to-know only. That’s why I asked John to call in only you key people. Not one word of this is to be discussed with anyone outside this room. Is that clear?”
All heads nodded in agreement.
“Good. Go ahead, John.”
Kelleher held up a sheaf of papers. “This is a print-out of an email message I received at six o’clock this evening, along with the systems operations folks. My guess is that each of you received it as well. If you haven’t checked your email in the last couple of hours, take one of these and read it.”
He handed a stack of papers to Rob, who kept the top copy and handed the rest on.
To the First Malden Bank:
We, the Financial Patriots of America, now have control of your computer systems. As a demonstration, we deleted all of today’s transactions for two customer accounts and altered the account balances as if these transactions never happened. You no longer have the data to calculate the correct balances for these accounts.