Wednesday
That night my bed was either too hot or too cold, and I kept kicking off the quilt then retrieving it. My brain was running in circles. Mac was right, of course. I shouldn’t get involved. This was a potentially dangerous situation. On the other hand, I had been humiliated professionally. If the drive belonged to Parks, and I was sure that it did, and if it had something to do with Delcroft, and if I returned it to them, maybe I’d be a hero. Or maybe it was so sensitive it was going to get me into deeper trouble.
A lot of ifs, I knew. Still, the temptation to restore my reputation was irresistible. So was my curiosity. What the hell was on that drive? And why was Parks hiding it in a Marlboro box?
At around five I gave up, went downstairs, and brewed a pot of coffee. I waited until eight thirty, then made a call.
“Georgia Davis…”
“Ellie Foreman.”
“Hey, Ellie, how are you?”
“In a bit of a jam.”
“What else is new?”
I ignored the comment. “How are you doing, Georgia?”
“Terrific.”
I knew she was seeing Jimmy Saclarides, Lake Geneva’s chief of police and a close friend of Luke’s. Our paths hadn’t crossed yet, but they would.
“So what can I do for you?”
“I need to decrypt some files on a flash drive, but I don’t know anyone who does that. I was hoping you did.”
“I might. Are we on the record or off?”
“What do you mean?”
“You heard me.”
I thought about it. “Off. Definitely off.”
“Okay.” I heard soft tapping on a keyboard. “You remember that guy we went to see in Park Ridge who was an expert in enhancing video?”
“Sure. I don’t remember his name, but he had a dog. Jericho.”
She laughed. “Right. It was Mike Dolan. Well, he has a brother who’s an ethical hacker.”
“A what?”
“You’ll find out. Let me call him and make sure he’ll see you.”
Behind the white-picket-fence colonials and McMansions of Northbrook is the village’s industrial zone. While residents take pride in their well-tended lawns, sculpted landscaping, and tidy exteriors, the industrial section is almost dystopian. Hidden under the spur of the Edens Expressway, it’s a collection of one-story structures, Quonset huts, and parking lots. Every once in a while there’s a tree. I will admit it’s clean—to the point of immaculate. I didn’t spot a dead leaf, fast-food wrapper, or bird droppings. Nothing that would lend the area any personality.
I pulled into a parking lot next to a one-story redbrick building. I’d called earlier and Zachariah Dolan said if I was a friend of Davis’, I was welcome. I walked around to a concrete path that led to a door with nothing but the building number on it. It was unlocked, and inside was a hall that ran the length of the building. But there was no directory of names in front, and none of the office doors bore nameplates. I checked the note I’d made on the phone. He was in Suite 1505.
The man who answered the door was burly and sported a beard, but his apple-red cheeks said he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. I tried to remember what his brother looked like, but it was so long ago I couldn’t figure out if there was a likeness. With dark hair and eyes, Zachariah’s hair was long enough to frame his cheeks and blend into his beard.
We shook hands. “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Dolan, but I’ve got to ask, what’s an ethical hacker?”
He laughed. “It’s Zach, and I’m one of the good guys.”
I smiled. “I assumed that. Were you once one of the bad ones?”
He grinned. “You could say that.”
“So what did it take you to turn from black to white?”
“Confession and three Hail Marys.”
I liked him already. He led me from the door into a spartan office with four computers against the walls and a conference table with chairs around it in the center. That seemed to be the only room. He motioned me into a chair. “Actually, it was Mike who helped me see the error of my ways.”
“Mike? How is he? And Jericho?”
Zach’s smile faded. “Mike’s fine, but Jericho has gone to the rainbow bridge.”
I hesitated. “I’m so sorry. He was a great dog. Totally devoted to your brother.” I cocked my head. “So. Ethical hacking?”
“An ethical hacker is a geek who hacks into his client’s system—with their knowledge, of course—to find flaws and loopholes that a nasty hacker might be able to penetrate and exploit.”
“That’s fascinating,” I started but then stopped. “Wait. If guys like you are on the case, why are there still so many hacks? Big ones, too.”
He patiently folded his hands, as if he’d been asked that question before. “Lots of reasons. Technology is always changing and evolving. You plug one leak, and another one springs a hole. You have to realize that the black hats on the other side are just as capable and smart as us. Sometimes more. And the IT guys in large corporations are, shall we say, a little territorial.”
“How unusual.”
He smiled. “They’re sure their systems are hack-proof. So they don’t bother with guys like us.” He grinned. “Their loss. Sometimes they come to us afterward with their tail between their legs.”
“So you work for large corporations?”
He nodded.
“And you met Georgia through Mike?”
“I do some forensic work too.”
“Like your brother.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing, actually. I get paid to do what I love.”
“Lucky dude.”
He spread his hands. “So what do you have?”
“A flash drive with encrypted files.”
“And you don’t have the key.”
“Right. I don’t know the first thing about encryption.” I dug it out of my bag and handed it to him.
He got up and went to one of the computers, inserted it into the USB port, and tried to open it. He stared at the files that appeared, then scratched his beard. “Well, I’ll take a look, but I can’t promise anything. Encryption is—uh—delicate.”
“Really? Well, I’d be grateful for whatever you can do.”
“Want to tell me what you know about it? Where it came from? How you got it?”
“Not particularly.”
“I figured.” He smiled again. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”
I hesitated. “No.”
“How do you know Georgia?”
“We have a long history. It started with my daughter over ten years ago, when she was a teenager. My daughter, that is. Georgia was still on the force then.”
He studied me.
“So how much will this cost me?”
“Depends what I find. There is a minimum of three hundred. That’s the friends-and-family rate, by the way. I’ll get to it in the next couple of days.”
“Great.”
“You’re sure you want to go ahead with this?”
I frowned. Was he trying to warn me off? Did he think three hundred would deter me? I was about to answer when I heard a loud scratching noise and a bark.
Zach rose and headed toward an alcove I hadn’t noticed. “You okay with dogs?”
I nodded. He opened a door and a large German shepherd bounded out, his tail wagging furiously. He raced over to me and laid his head in my lap. I petted him on his head and scratched his ears. His tail wagged even faster. “And who is this?”
“Joshua,” Zach replied with a twinkle in his eye. “He’s my credit manager.”
I giggled. “Wait. Joshua…Jericho…and you’re Zachariah. What’s with all the biblical names?”
He templed his hands as if in prayer. “We’re a pious family.”