High Ground Page 2

  Hours later, Josh surfaced from the intense review he’d made on all his customized, extremely complex programming codes. He’d added a more comprehensive digital encryption key to protect them further, yet another lock on the door. Maddox had pieces of his thinking, his patterns and program. The new software he manipulated mentally in his small bits of spare time now became a priority code red. Revolutionary, it would stymie any hacker. Maddox served as a warning. It was a given that if a designer created a new program, a hacker would find a way in. Josh always had to stay ahead. Probably a dozen more hackers, good enough and motivated enough, were close to breaching his system. He must turn his theoretical spyware into an actuality.

  A knot worried his shoulder blade, a kink bit his neck, and his stomach bellowed for food. His watch said he’d been working for eleven hours straight. He lifted his touchpad from the left side of his desk. He’d trained himself to put it in the same place each time. With a few taps of his finger, it brought up his preferred setting for lights, fire, and music. The blinds swooshed softly into place.

  He pulled out his omelet pan, took organic eggs from the fridge. He added fresh oregano and basil. While the omelet cooked, he tossed together the grape tomatoes and fresh greens his neighbor dropped in with that morning and added chunks of feta cheese. Saliva flooded his mouth, his stomach growled. His smart phoned pinged a text. He kept on beating his eggs, food came first.

  His gaze settled on the phone in its designated spot at the end of the kitchen island. With his mind locked onto a software problem, he did things on autopilot and didn’t remember doing them later. On that premise, he assigned a place for everything and kept everything in place, so when he wasn’t paying attention, his trained motor skills took over and put the thing back where he would find it later.

  Another ping, another text. He ignored it and ripped butter lettuce into small pieces. Only his friends had his private number. Sam’s ring tone was customized, so it had to be Jake. His daily update on Siree’s pregnancy always lifted Josh’s energy levels. He’d read the latest while he ate.

  But the texts didn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy. They sent a frisson of alarm down his spine. I CAN GET TO YOU ANYWHERE.

  Breathing in and out, slow and steady, he rationalized away any sense of alarm or fear. He forwarded the texts to Homeland security with a few efficient taps. He devoured his omelet, helped himself to a piece of frozen cheesecake, wanting something sweet to take the sour taste of the threat away. Homeland would pressure him, insist he needed security. A half hour later, he lay back in his hot tub, let the swirling waters massage his back and neck. Let his mind go blank.

  Grounded in the belief he dealt not with a multiplicity of events, but just one event with multiple aspects, Josh left the FBI working in conjunction with Homeland to deal with Maddox.

  ****

  Two days passed. The phishing message he’d programmed to trace and announce an attack remained passive. Josh’s additional encryption codes were keeping Maddox out.

  Knowing the agencies counting on him were safe for the moment, he dove into designing software with security intelligence built in. The software must be capable of sensing an intruder and protecting itself by solving the problem, growing in intelligence and experience each time. He hunched over his keyboard, taking breaks only when his body demanded to be filled or emptied. Finally, the new system became more than theory. He started constructing his design.

  Bit by bit, he added function, created new codes that leapt beyond what technology knew. He took for granted what his brilliant mind concocted. Others would not. His government would gain months, maybe years of lead time. They could move forward in other directions, content their secrets could never be exposed. Josh’s tamper-proof technology would change the way the world ran.

  He proved his ownership by going through all the necessary copyright steps. Registering his patent, at this stage, would make it vulnerable to his country’s enemies. Instead, he phoned Jake, who acted as his agent for new product lines. Jake’s excitement poured over the line to Josh’s speaker phone.

  “This can be used for thousands of other applications.” Jake’s voice roughened with anticipation. “Soon intelligent spyware could protect every type of computer.”

  “I’ll have naysayers arguing the slippery slope, the danger of artificial intelligence taking over the world,” Josh pointed out. “I’ll have to build a secret override code into the system, to safeguard my software from the unscrupulous. The government only wants a pressure dressing to stop the hemorrhage. They’re not looking ahead at the power this could put in the wrong people’s hands. It’s my design and my responsibility to keep it safe.”

  He estimated the worth of his new software would make the multimillion dollar contracts he had now look like gold dust compared to gold bricks. Thank God for Jake. Not only did he invest Josh’s money, but he’d helped structure the Foundation used to disburse it in useful directions. Throwing away hours on investment strategies and tax incentives bored Josh stiff.

  He played with the idea of hiring a director for his Foundation. His new prototype would take the majority of his time. Someone else could do the leg work on the grants. But right now he must eat or fall over.

  He coded in his security locks, stood, stretched, picked up the touchpad, and stroked the enter button. Lights cast a warm glow over the loft. The fire tangoed to the sensuous music coming through the speakers. The shades began to lower. His phone played a bar of saucy salsa. Recognizing Sam’s call tone, he turned, bent to pick it up. Glass shattered, something zipped past his neck. A spurt of feathers flew from a throw cushion on the sofa.

  Josh hit the floor. Shots fired, his brain shouted. Jagged edges of glass framed the night sky. Wind gusted, warning of intrusion. The screens swished the last few inches into place, blinding his assailant, preventing Josh from seeing out. Putting Sam on hold, he hit speed dial for Homeland, gave the communicator a succinct, but detailed sit rep, and disconnected.

  He observed with cool objectivity the tremor in his finger when he transferred back to his friend’s call. “Hi, Sam. I owe you big time. You just saved my life.”

  “A lot of people tell me that.” Sam’s joking tone seemed surreal after the drama of a bullet coming through his window.

  “No, I mean literally. I bent over to pick up my phone and a bullet missed me by inches. Went for a head shot, just as I moved.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well why the hell are you talking to me? Phone 911. Call one of those agencies you work for. Do something to protect yourself.” Sam sounded like he’d started hyperventilating.

  “I alerted them. In just minutes, I’ll have half the local police department and more FBI agents working in Homeland Security on my doorstep. I wanted to find out why you phoned before I got tied up for hours.”

  “Are you for real? You talk like you’re writing software and this is a mere bump in the road. I’m getting a flight. I’ll be there ASAP.” The line went dead.

  Josh stared at the flat screen in his hand. Trust Sam, the impulsive member of the group, to over-react. I guess I should have played that differently. His fingers flew. He texted, “Don’t come. Feds will latch on. No time together.”

  In seconds, the jazz bars floated into the loft and he read, “Keep me in loop, or I’m there.”

  “Got it.” He typed. The security alarm for the lobby started blinking; the beep, beep of his intercom broke the silence. Here we go. He crossed to the desk and gave them access.

  ****

  “Jake, this a good time to talk?”

  “Josh, what’s up? It’s not like you to phone twice in one day. Siree and I were just going out, I’ll just give her a head’s-up to hold on.”

  Josh heard a soft murmuring at the other end of the line, what sounded like a kiss, and then Jake was back.

  “Sorry to interrupt your time with Siree. I hope you have a few brain cells left for my problem.”
Josh tried to lighten the mood.

  “I’ll try to find a few and focus them on you,” Jake fired back.

  “A hacker named Maddox tried to get into the FBI system last week. I stopped him, traced him, and alerted Homeland Security. They blew it big time. He escaped. A rookie agent killed the man’s wife. He wants revenge. He’s accessed my data as well as my private number and took a shot at me last night. Homeland insists they put round-the-clock security on me.”

  “You couldn’t have told me this when we talked earlier.” Jake’s dry tone contrasted strongly with Sam’s dramatic reaction to the same news.

  “I figured Sam would. Hell, I hoped it would all blow over without worrying you and Siree. But I don’t trust them, when they’ve already screwed up. I’m as secure as the nation’s secrets, if I stay in, but I have to report to a Senate committee, and I’m the expert witness in a high profile cyber case. I can’t hunker down and wait him out. Seems to me I need top security and that means Safeguard Security, Gribb’s firm. As you’re his closest friend and principal client, I want to clear approaching him with you first. I’ve seen the quality of people he assigns you and Siree. He has the best working for his company.”

  “He’s already on it. What do you want, a bodyguard, two, private security? Covert, overt?”

  “I’ll let him assess the situation, make the call.” Josh cleared his throat. “The CIA has Homeland worked up over their conviction Maddox has ties to a terrorist cell stateside. Of course, the CIA can’t operate within the country, but they can advise Homeland. They’ll try to persuade Homeland I’ll make good bait. They don’t want to warn Maddox off with obvious security. I don’t like anything they’ve suggested so far. I planned to hire another tech to handle my regular work load, while I focus on my new software. A bodyguard posing as a computer tech could cover me through the day. I can lock myself up tight at night.”

  “The CIA fit collateral damage into their off-the-wall schemes as a matter of course. You can bet, if they think terrorists are involved, they’ll arm wrestle this away from the FBI and any local police. Leave it with me. RG will get you the best.”

  “Who?”

  Jake cleared his throat on the other end of the phone. “Uh, sorry. Something Gribbs got into his head. Someone compared him to Jethro Gibbs on the NCIS series. Gribbs took exception to being lumped in with an imaginary hero and Navy at that. When I pointed out Gibbs is a Marine in the series, Gribbs wouldn’t buy it. Said he’s trained thousands of soldiers and would back the Rangers and Special Forces against the Marines any day. He insists on using his initials. We have to call him RG now.”

  Laughter choked off Josh’s response.

  “You better not let him hear you laugh.” Jake warned. “I smiled when he told me, and I thought I’d be visiting my orthodontist for a set of dentures. Just remember the guy saved our lives on that glacier in Mexico, and we owe him. This is payback.”

  “Duly noted. I’ll keep the picture of Gribbs—pardon me, RG—caring a fig about his image to myself.” Josh allowed himself one more chuckle. “The ideal security agent would have advanced computer skills and take over some of my work, so I can focus on this new design. But that’s me dreaming of the impossible. I’ll take any good agent, to avoid agency bureaucrats poisoning my space with their negativity.”

  “Gribbs—shit—RG says most of them can’t find their hand in front of their face in a power station. I’ll run this by him and have him phone you with a game plan. You’d be better off with round the clock security, though.”

  Josh smiled. Jake’s protective instincts overshadowed those of a mafia don and a parish priest combined. He’d be guarded by the best.

  ****

  Cat Duplessis stood ramrod straight in the elegant lobby of the beachside hotel in Toluca, Mexico. Her principal would be exiting the elevator any second. She’d come ahead to vet the car and limo. The driver proved legitimate, the car clean of incendiary devices. The elevator pinged. The senator stepped out accompanied by her aide, a congressman, and another close protection agent. They were heading home, after a three day trade commission with the Mexican government. Cat fell into step behind her principal. She felt the vibration of her cell phone against her hip, but didn’t pause, didn’t answer. Her sharp gaze quartered the lobby, checked the perimeter beyond through the wall of glass ahead.

  With the senator safely ensconced in the back of the limo, she settled into the front seat beside the driver. Their private jet perched, fueled and ready, on the tarmac. In just under four hours, the senator would be in Virginia. Assignment completed, she could catch a domestic flight home to New Orleans. After the adrenaline-filled life of a Marine in a theater of war, the stuff she did now seemed pretty tame. This assignment had been particularly tedious. She needed a new direction, a job that sparked her passion. The idea tickled her mind more frequently this past year.

  Her phone vibrated again. She pulled it out, checking the new text and the last message. It was Gribb’s number. The message said he wanted her to call about her next assignment. Hopefully one with a little more challenge. The initials RG signed the text. Who the hell was RG? Was Gribbs working undercover? No, he’d have used a burner phone. Curiosity pricked, tempting an immediate response so she could brush away its chafing.

  She tucked her phone back in its leather case attached to the belt on her black slacks. The gray jacket she wore over a gray silk blouse hid the fact she carried. She marched discipline to the frontline. Her eyes tracked passing vehicles, searched darkened doorways and alleys, parked sedans and vans for any threat to her principal. Only when she finished the job, would she sever her attention.

  During the quiet flight home through the dark, she studied Gribbs’s two brief texts. Call him A.S.A.P. Twice was overkill for her boss. He sounded urgent. He ran his firm, Safeguard Security, from whatever location guarding Jacob Ingles required. He’d made protecting the billionaire magnate his personal business.

  Cat didn’t know the story behind why Gribbs exhibited such loyalty, but something forged an extraordinary bond between the men. She’d taken her basic training under Gribbs in the army before enlisting in the Marines. He’d retired shortly after to start his security business.

  When she’d retired her commission, he’d approached her to work for him. Women security officers were in high demand, globally. With a huge increase in moneyed businessmen and public figures requiring security, women played a special role. Many men for religious or personal reasons wouldn’t hire a man to protect their wives, yet their families were under threat of kidnapping for ransom. A female principal often felt more comfortable with another woman. In a high threat situation, a woman could provide security in places men couldn’t go, like public restrooms. The excellent pay barely made up for the terrible hours, but keeping someone safe gave her a purpose, helped stitch her soul back together after the horrors of combat.

  She’d been part of the only female Marine team to fight in Afghanistan—a military experiment. Three of the women she trained beside, and served with, died when a mortar shell exploded under their Light Assault Vehicle. Vulnerable to a Taliban attack while exiting the burning LAV, she’d laid down cover fire, while the screams of one of her friends trapped in the vehicle ripped through her brain. With two others badly wounded, she’d hunkered down behind a pile of boulders, taking heavy fire until reinforcements arrived to take out the enemy.

  She relived the horror of seeing her best friend blown in half by an exploding grenade, eyes gaping, face constricted in agony. She still heard the screams in her nightmares, the thud of the bullets smacking into flesh, smelled the cordite, and remembered the metallic taste of blood as she bit through her lip to stifle her own need to scream. Nightly, she relived the horror, believing any second she, too, would be ripped open.

  A soldier to her core, she didn’t fear death, only the way it could come or being left mangled and useless. But death didn’t come, instead she remembered the heart stopping fear of watching soldier
s, their faces wrapped to hide their identities, surround her like a pack of zombies. Imprisonment, torture, the screams of her friends filled her dreams. She no longer wooed sleep. It made her vulnerable to the nightmares.

  Cat shuddered, pitching the images into a vast wasteland in her mind, where she could wander for hours without tripping over them again. Her thumbs flying over the small pad of her smart phone, she tapped a quick message to Gribbs. Off duty nineteen hundred, call u.

  ****

  “RG.” Gribbs’s voice snapped over the phone made you stand to attention.

  “Sir, am I supposed to address you as RG now? Are you covert?”

  A noisy throat clearing came over the phone. “Yes. No. I need you in D.C. Stat. You’ll shadow a client who’s received several death threats.”

  “Do we know the source?” She didn’t expect social niceties from her boss. She addressed the issue, dying to ask why he was going by his initials.

  “I’m not going to play you on this, Cat. It’s going to be a real cluster fuck. Homeland, FBI, CIA—all want a piece of the action. The threat allegedly comes from a hacker. The motivation points at revenge. The FBI shot his wife when they went in to capture him. He’s targeted the computer genius who tracked him and gave them his location.”

  “Sounds like the hacker might be out of touch with reality. It’s a lot harder to outguess a madman. Who’s the client?”

  “Well, that’s the interesting part.”

  She would swear Gribbs was stalling. Oh Bondye! OMG! How am I ever going to remember to call him RG? No. He never hesitates. Yet he was taking an abnormal amount of time getting to the point.

  “Jake’s asking you to take this on as a personal favor. I said I’d set it up, but you’ll probably be hearing from him and Siree.”