There was no way Stu could have anticipated how easily the complex job of packing up Owen Hansen’s handiwork could be accomplished. Every piece of the network had been laid out with exacting attention to detail. Stu and Lance began the project by numbering each of the racks so that, when it was time to put them back together, they could mirror the original arrangement in every detail. Each cord and each connection was numbered and labeled to allow for easy reassembly once the equipment arrived in Arizona.
Lance was as impressed by the elegance of Owen Hansen’s setup as Stu was, and the two tech guys talked as they worked. Lance was excited about the idea of adding Frigg to High Noon’s cyber arsenal. Stu was far more wary. He was still on what he called “the one and done page”—turn Frigg on, get the passwords, turn her off, and get the hell out.
“From the way Owen Hansen was able to penetrate other people’s devices with impunity,” Stu said, “Frigg must be loaded with all kinds of electronic eavesdropping crap that shouldn’t be there. No doubt a lot of it is absolutely illegal. If Hansen had been caught using it, he might have ended up in jail. You can bet that if we’re caught using any of it, we really will go to jail. We’ll also be out of business.”
“Maybe we can get Frigg to do a self-scan and give us a directory of the programs that cross the line so we can delete them.”
“From what I’ve read, some of those deep-learning algorithms are machine-readable only and are indecipherable for humans. What’s to stop Frigg from disbursing that collection of illicit files out into the ether again so she can retrieve them whenever she wants, just like she did last time?” Stu asked.
“You’d better figure out how to keep that from happening,” Lance said, “and you need to do it now—before you let Frigg back online.”
“Tell me about it,” Stu said miserably. “I can’t get the passwords without putting her online first.”
“Sounds like you’re screwed, then,” Lance told him with a grin, “but at least you’ll have the money.”
A mere six hours after they started the project, it was done. While Stu and Lance had been deconstructing all the connections, Lance’s crew of musclemen, directed by Cami, had removed all the monitors from their brackets, wrapped them in protective film, and loaded them into the truck. Once the racks had been disconnected from their wall mounts, they, too, were wrapped in packing film, hauled outside, and strapped securely into the truck.
At last the only piece of equipment remaining in the space was the antique Macintosh sitting in solitary splendor on the library table. Stu punched the power switch and the screen came to life. It was password-protected, so Stu couldn’t run it, but that didn’t stop him from taking the top off to look inside. With the lid off, the machine wasn’t at all what it appeared. It may have looked old, decrepit, and out-of-date, but under the hood Owen Hansen had installed a powerful collection of some of the very latest computer wizardry.
Cami came back inside through the sliding door just as Stu was replacing the outside cover panel. “You’re not taking that piece of junk along with us, are you?” she asked.
“I don’t think it’s junk,” he told her. “I suspect this old goat of a computer functioned as Owen Hansen’s base of operations.”
“That was my husband’s,” Irene Hansen said nodding toward Stu and the Mac. Once again, and despite still wearing those stiletto heels, she had turned up behind them as silently as a ghost. “They gave it to Harold for free because it was one of the first computers off the assembly line. They used Harold’s chip, you see. He was a very smart man, and so was his son. Owen barely knew his father and yet they were very much alike.”
Stu took a deep breath. He hadn’t told Irene Hansen everything he needed to tell her earlier. Now he cleared his throat to do so.
“Your son left me some money,” he said. That wasn’t exactly the truth, but he didn’t want to bring Frigg’s machinations into the discussion. “More than just some,” he added. “The money is on deposit in some offshore accounts. Once I get the passwords and pay whatever taxes are due, I’ll turn anything that’s left over to you.”
“Oh, don’t do that, sweetie,” Irene said. “I already have all the money I’ll ever need. If Owen gave it to you, he must have meant for you to have it.”
Stuart Ramey was stunned. It wasn’t just that Irene had passed on his giving her any of Owen’s money. That in itself was almost incomprehensible. She had just called him sweetie, however, and that was something that had never happened to him before in his whole life!