Chapter Twelve

The vibrating cell phone jittered on the table. The buzz sounded out of place in the study of the Hollywood mansion belonging to Drew Getty’s mother. He grabbed the phone and stared at the text. The guy he’d sent to kidnap Allison had never made it to the house because the roads were closed. He was returning.

None of that mattered now. Allison Richards was on her way to Los Angeles.

Earlier, he’d intercepted an e-mail Allison sent to Tom telling him the script had been uploaded and ready. It was a bit tricky, but he’d accessed her file from the FTP site, identified where she’d found his malware footprint, and modified the code. Then he released her e-mail to Tom. Neither Allison nor Tom would see the delay.

His phone buzzed with another text. Drew smiled as he read the intercepted instructions from O’Neal to Tom telling the other tech to get to the bottom of the hack as soon as Allison arrived in L.A.

Yes! O’Neal was sniffing down the trail of bread crumbs Drew left without even questioning why the trail was there in the first place. All that negative publicity made O’Neal ready to place the blame anywhere but where it belonged—on his own arrogant shoulders.

Piece by piece, the plan was falling into place.

He glanced at the time. It wouldn’t be long now. Months of hard work were finally starting to pay off. A few difficult tasks still lay ahead, but with his careful planning and the help of his mother’s bodyguards, success was in sight.

Mother had been right about one thing: when paranoia sets in, most people become shortsighted. She wanted total destruction of Northstar Security Firm. Drew had to admit releasing Northstar’s case histories to the press had been a brilliant idea, but he’d convinced her a more subtle approach would better serve their needs. Just a couple of stories at a time. Keep Northstar guessing. Then, when everyone was looking the other way, he would walk in virtually behind their backs and take what he needed, and set up one of their own techs to take the fall. After the dust cleared, no one would know he’d been there. His family would finally be whole again. His brother would be cleared of all charges and the family’s good name restored. The authorities would never be the wiser.

The only cloud over the entire operation would be Dean’s return into Drew’s life. He loved his younger brother, but he didn’t like him. Drew squelched the acid rising in his stomach. No point in rehashing the past. Dean had been stupid enough to get caught blackmailing a U.S. Senator, and in Drew’s mind, he’d deserved all the jail time the feds wanted to throw at him. If only Dean could learn to stay out of trouble.

But, Mother wanted her baby home. “Save him,” she’d cried to Drew. Never able to deny his mother, he’d found a way to make it happen.

Maybe this time, Mother would see which of her sons was truly the good seed.

****

There were two major routes out of Thunder Valley to Boise International Airport. The most direct highway was over the treacherous mountain pass, but because of the storm, that route wasn’t open yet. The other route, lower in elevation, was longer and the five-hour drive gave Allison a lot of time to think. Her automatic responses to Mitchell’s commentary about everything from the scenery to their destination seemed to leave him unsatisfied. Eventually, he turned to Sloan for conversation.

Sloan didn’t appear to mind. Although, he occasionally glanced at Allison for help fielding the nine-year-old’s questions. She was only half listening and didn’t feel inclined to join the conversation. Sloan had brought this entire mess on himself. It was his game. She needed to use the drive time to figure out the rules. Things weren’t adding up. Ever since the power came back on, Sloan had withdrawn even more. He seemed overly anxious to get to Los Angeles—had even used Mitchell to pressure her. Why?

Her program would work. She was sure of it.

Until this last attack, the hacker had never left a trail for her to follow. During the latest one, he’d been careless. Allison finally uncovered the single gem of information she’d been searching for. Her trap caught a partial e-mail address. Even though it was a partial, she designed her script to focus on that specific data. The result was a more complete trace than all her previous attempts combined.

Using the e-mail address, her script would trace the hacker’s footprint to its origination point. It would search through IP and MAC addresses and create a list. Once the list was compiled, the FBI task force could go to work.

A MAC address would identify the unique network node. Similarly, the IP address would identify where the user signed up for Internet access. Because her program could capture this information, the FBI would be able to obtain the necessary warrants to acquire both the manufacturer and Internet provider records. Those records would supply serial numbers with corresponding buyers and user billing addresses.

She glanced at Sloan as he negotiated a turn. His face was a mask, showing no frustration as Mitchell asked the inevitable question. “Are we there yet?”

“We have about another hundred miles to go.” Sloan gave her nephew a patient smile. “The roads look clearer now that we’re out of the mountains, so we can put on some speed.”

“Cool!” Mitchell settled back in his seat.

Allison’s mind returned to the process that would catch the hacker.

Matching a serial number to a buyer or an IP address with a user location wasn’t as high-tech as trying to re-ping or scramble real time traces, but the results were solid. Vetting the list for a potential criminal element would be harder. It made sense that Sloan had been assigned to the task force. Not only did he have skills to review an individual’s background for criminal tendencies, his profiling skills would help to identify anyone who held a grudge against Byron O’Neal and Northstar.

Allison would have liked to design an algorithm to narrow the records search. Unfortunately, only the FBI had the authority to request private records. Without the algorithm, the FBI would have to vet the list manually. Tom was smart enough to create an algorithm, even though it might take him longer than Allison, but the result would be the same.

That was the part that bothered her the most. With Tom in L.A., the task force didn’t really need her. So why had Sloan used Mitchell to coerce her? And since she was asking questions, why had she given in so easily? She had more backbone than to let anyone railroad her.

She clenched her fists, uncomfortable with the truth. She wanted to catch the hacker. It was her fault he’d been able to invade Northstar’s systems. Her fault people were getting hurt. She wanted to clean up her mess and catch the bastard.

If she hadn’t been on vacation—if she’d been in the office—this would have been less complicated. Mitchell would be in school, she’d be behind her desk and Sloan would be someplace—anyplace—away from her ordered life.

Damn him. And damn his appearance at her door.

Last night, she’d admitted she’d been wrong about him. She hadn’t lied. Her perception of him had changed almost from the moment he stepped into the garage. Her commitment to stay detached unraveled with his every look—every thoughtful gesture. Every touch.

He hadn’t behaved as though he was better than her and Mitchell. He’d accepted their modest home as a gracious guest and shared much of himself in return.

Allison even opened up to him. Practically threw herself at him. She mentally cringed. Another stupid mistake. Although, at the time, Sloan hadn’t seemed to mind.

Her body tingled as she relived his kisses. What if the power had stayed off? Would he have rejected her? Or would they have continued toward the only logical conclusion of their actions? She discreetly shifted to ease the arousal brought on by invading memories.

Somehow, during that hot kiss, she’d screwed up—revealed her inexperience. Sloan demanded perfection. Allison did, too. But in personal relationships, her version of perfection and Sloan’s were clearly worlds apart. Once the electricity had returned, the intimate shadows of snowstorms and firelight had vanished. Sloan must have realized how different they really were.

All she could do now was shield her feelings. Even if she compartmentalized the last forty-eight hours, it was possible her days with Northstar were over. Working closely with Sloan would be painful—she had shared too much of herself. Gossip of his next conquest would eat at her like a virus through data.

Her only option was to withdraw. Rebuild her walls. Never let Sloan Cartland in again. She’d gotten good at that over the last two years. The thought lay like a lead weight at the bottom of her heart.

When they finally arrived at Boise International, Allison was as exhausted mentally as she was physically.

Sloan returned the rented SUV and then purchased tickets for Allison and Mitchell. They settled in for the two-hour wait. It was a good thing the flight was only an hour and a half—less time to berate herself for all the mistakes she’d made in the last few days.

****

The flight touched down at L.A. International around four in the afternoon. Allison was physically tired and emotionally annoyed with Sloan. It felt better to be upset with him than with herself. Now that they’d arrived in Los Angeles, she was anxious to put her work into action. If she played her cards right, the FBI might let her create the new algorithm. That would keep her busy. Staying busy was her first step on the road to forgetting Sloan.

Nelson Kane, a local FBI agent, met them at the airport and drove Allison, Sloan, and Mitchell to the location where the task force had set up the network. Instead of using one of the FBI field offices, Allison was surprised when the large FBI vehicle pulled into the driveway of a modest house in a quiet neighborhood near the downtown area.

“What is this place?” She looked at the unassuming house, wondering if they were expected to live here and commute to the FBI’s office.

“We use this as a safe house.” Agent Kane glanced over his shoulder at her. “From this location, we can hit a number of major streets when it’s time to roll. A unique and extremely powerful system is inside, connected directly to FBI headquarters. Your friend, Tom Delano, seemed impressed.”

Allison, Mitchell, and Sloan followed Special Agent Kane into the house.

Contrary to the exterior, the main room inside was not modestly suburban at all. It had the feel and even the scent that belonged more to FBI offices than a home. Two network racks lined one wall of the living room, both filled to near capacity with server blades and routers. A grouping of flat-screen monitors sat on a long table. Next to the monitors were two laser printers. This setup was equal to—if not better than—the technology she used at Northstar.

Through a doorway, she saw a kitchen area. A hallway from the living room appeared to lead toward other areas of the house. “This is amazing.” She took a moment to mentally catalog the hardware.

Tom sat at the table in front of several monitors that displayed programs running on the network. He turned as she spoke.

Seeing a familiar face offered some comfort and normalcy, especially after several hours wrestling with her feelings for Sloan. “Hi Tom.” She gave him a little wave.

“Hello Allison.” Tom’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She had an uneasy feeling he wasn’t happy to see her. That didn’t make sense. She and Tom got along fine in the office. Perhaps he was looking forward to catching the hacker himself and here she was to take away his moment of glory. Tom sometimes had bouts of ego, but she was confident she could put to rest any of his concerns. After all, they were a team.

Agent Kane introduced her to FBI Special Agent Kyle Roberts, another member of the task force. She nodded a hello and turned to Tom. “Have you loaded the program, yet?” She walked over to the desk and sat on the chair next to him. Mitchell followed and stood to the side of the desk next to Allison.

“It’s loaded and awaiting your very special touch.” Tom’s tone had a sarcastic bite.

Ouch. What was the matter with him? He seemed very unhappy about something.

Sloan walked up to the two of them. “Why don’t you let Allison take it from here, Tom?”

“Sure. Why not?” Tom slid his chair away from the table and stood, then positioned himself over her shoulder.

Allison ignored Tom’s sullen mood. Once the work started, he’d join right in. He always did. She glanced at the screen and noticed Tom had already started her program. The time stamp showed it had been running for most of the day. By now, there should be some results.

The other monitor displayed two columns of data. The first column was a list of MAC addresses and the second column listed corresponding manufactures for the hardware.

She pointed to the column of manufacturers. “Have you run this list for purchasers yet?”

“We’re on it now,” said Agent Roberts.

She studied the information on the screen wondering if she’d missed something. It was all here, in plain sight. The only thing left was the legwork to run down the names of individuals who had bought the hardware. The task force had everything they needed.

And they didn’t need her.

Allison faced the agents, then looked at Sloan. “I’m not sure what you want me to do. You already have the lists.”

Everyone’s gazes were on her. They looked as if they expected her to produce the hacker from thin air. She spoke to the group. “I suppose I could build another program to help narrow down the list. We haven’t discussed it yet, but it might save some time.”

All heads turned in Sloan’s direction as if he was the final authority. He took in the room, and ran a finger around his collar. His gaze shifted back to Allison. “No. We don’t need another program.”

“Then what do you need?”

He stepped toward her, but didn’t answer her question.

“I don’t understand…” Her voice trailed off at his hard look.

“We need you to identify the buyer.”

“Excuse me?” Allison frowned. What was he talking about?

“The buyer, Allison.” Sloan indicated the screen behind her. “Look at the list. Who purchased the computer hardware that hacked Northstar?”

He took another step, stood close enough to touch her, but for all the warmth he showed, he might as well have been across the state. “Who is it?” he asked again. “What does he want with Northstar?”

She stared at him. Sloan didn’t look like he’d lost his mind, so he must be joking. But his stare bored into her, searching, studying—deadly serious.

She leaned back in the chair, trying to comprehend what he was asking. How was she supposed to know who the hacker was? The FBI had the names of the manufacturers. They were supposed to narrow the list. The very same list on the screen. Why not take the next logical step? What did he think she knew?

“Sloan, I…” As she spoke, the look on his face turned to granite, scaring her. She had felt many things for Sloan Cartland over the last forty-eight hours, but was never frightened of him. Until now.

She looked over at Tom, her friend and coworker. “Tom, what’s going on? You know I can’t just pick a name off this list. I could create another program—”

“How could you do it, Allison?” Tom interrupted.

“Do what?” She felt like screaming. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

“Your footprint is all over the hack. Did you think we wouldn’t see it?” Cold accusation dripped from Tom’s voice.

“My footprint?” Allison was stunned.

She’d been digging through the data for weeks. The only footprint she’d seen was the hacker’s. Yet, by Tom’s expression, he believed the footprint was hers. She looked at the others. They all believed it.

She thought about the data she’d worked on for months, and again the previous evening. Did the annotations the hacker used look like hers? She never thought about it before now. Maybe it resembled her footprint a little. In her mind, they were totally different. As different as she and Caroline—but to an outsider, sisters could look very much like one another.

Chills coursed down Allison’s spine as she realized what was happening. They all thought she was the hacker!