MindField Page 7

  His work finished, he wiped all traces of his presence and his activities off the server and signed off from his internet connection.

  * * *

  Glen received an encrypted text from Harvey Kalinsky and read the message. His brow knotted. Not what I’d expected. Looks like InTelQ is a government-funded organization. Would that even be legal? Would it make any difference for the future of my startup? His cellphone buzzed and he looked at the screen. Then he answered the call.

  “Mr. Marotta! Thanks for calling. What have you discovered?”

  “You signed a terrible contract. We need to get you out of it, but we have less than two hours remaining before that isn’t possible. Interested?”

  “Hell, yeah. What do I have to do?”

  “You have to send an email to Frank Lucessi stating these exact words. Open your email app and tell me when you’re ready.”

  “Ready now. What do you want me to say?”

  * * *

  Cassie and Lee sat at the kitchen table of their house in the compound. Cassie leaned forward. “I got an email from Avram today.”

  Lee looked up from his dinner plate. “How is he doing?”

  “He wants to use Ann as a backup resource for an op. That is, only if we agree, and only if the op requires a hacker.”

  Lee shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Lee, Avram says she’ll be kept out of any direct contact with the op. Hacking only.”

  Lee frowned. “Last op she was involved in left her hands burned and almost killed her. And remember, she wasn’t anywhere dangerous. The CypherGhost set her hands on fire from hundreds of miles away, through the cellphone towers.”

  Cassie thought about this. “She’ll end up doing what she wants, no matter what we tell her.”

  Lee paced the room. “If she’s going to do any work for Avram, we need to be there to act as a security force for her. Does she know anything about this yet?”

  Cassie nodded. “Yes. She’s already agreed but only if we approve. So, I’ll text Avram and approve her use as an asset if we can act as her protection. We’ll need to travel out west.”

  Lee nodded. “Have you been in contact with Ann?”

  “Yes. I received an email from her this morning, just before this mess bloomed. She said she was worried about her roommate. She’s even more worried about her new boyfriend.”

  Lee was silent for a few seconds. “If we go there, we may make more trouble than we solve. I hate for us to be helicopter parents.”

  Cassie nodded. “There is that. How many days can you take off from work?”

  “Right now, a week. I have over six weeks saved in paid time off, but there’s a new project starting in less than two weeks. I can try to find a substitute while we’re travelling.”

  Cassie pulled her phone from her pocket and opened a travel app. “I’ll set us up for a week visit.”

  Lee’s expression showed he wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

  “Oh, come on, Lee. She’s our daughter.”

  Lee shrugged. “All right. One week.”

  * * *

  Glen knocked on the door of Ann’s apartment just as she ended the phone call with her parents. She answered the door and let Glen in. Laura was leaving their room to get dinner.

  Glen’s excitement was palpable on his face. Ann, on the other hand, felt subdued.

  Earlier, when Cassie called Ann, she had warned her daughter about the dangers inherent in any hacker’s life, and had harangued her on what had happened the last time Ann had worked a hack. “You were in danger in Moscow,” Cassie had stated, “and you were there as my child without my permission. Last year, you ignored my demand that you let more experienced operatives take on the CypherGhost, and you almost lost your life. So, I’m giving my permission this time, but only if you involve me in every step of the op. Every step! I’ll be at your apartment tomorrow, with Lee. We’ll help you to stay safe.”

  The browbeating hurt, and having her mother with her would complicate her school life more than it would keep her safe, but Ann knew it was too late to change her mother’s stubborn mind.

  Glen’s expression fell into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “My parents are visiting. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Glen’s mouth formed an “O.” He wore a dead serious expression now and said nothing for a few seconds. “Do you want me to meet them?”

  She frowned. “Probably not. It’s too soon for us to know where this is going.”

  Her cell buzzed. She drew it from her pocket and looked at its screen. “Hi, dad. Where are you guys?”

  She listened as Lee answered. “Okay. I’ll expect you here in an hour.”

  Glen’s brows rose. “So?”

  “They’re a day early. I think you should leave for a few hours. I’ll call you when I have a bit of privacy.”

  “Wait. Can I have a few minutes with you now to give you an update on what’s happening with MindField?”

  She examined his expression. A bit of desperation mixed with hope and fear. “Okay. Whatcha got?”

  “Marotta found an escape clause from the contract and I exercised it. A ‘buyer’s remorse’ clause. He dictated a letter that I printed, signed, and sent to him via FedEx. He also sent me an email containing the text I should read over the phone to Lucessi, detailing what I wanted him to include and exclude from the contracts we originally signed. Thanks, Ann. You saved our asses.”

  She nodded. Then she moved in for a kiss and finally, she told him, “Okay now, out with you.”

  * * *

  Lee Ainsley huddled close to Cassie as they walked through one of San Francisco Airport’s terminals toward the exit. He said, as calmly as he could, “Cass, don’t argue with her. She’s a full-fledged adult, and she has her own mind.”

  Cassie stared back with a look designed to kill her enemies. “She’s still too young to be seeking dangerous situations, which is what she has done before. She’s shown little regard for her safety. Not once but multiple times.”

  “If you come at her that way, she and you will spend the entire time you’re together designing battle tactics to use against each other. Remember, we’re here to help her. We’re her to watch her back.”

  Cassie stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, crap. Lee. You’re right. I’ll be respectful of her.” She walked more slowly now as they crossed to the terminal exit and found the limo waiting for them.

  * * *

  Ann tried to complete one of her papers, due in another day. She had typed and then deleted the same sentence three times. She finally gave up and sat at her desk, her mind flying in several directions without settling. Crap! She pulled a candy bar from her desk drawer and took a bite.

  The doorbell of her apartment rang while she furiously chewed and swallowed. “Coming.” She opened the door.

  Cassie smiled and entered, then hugged her. “Hi, sweetie.”

  Lee carried their bags into her room. “We’re not staying with you. We’ll be checking into the Stanford Park after dinner. Can we leave our bags here until after that?”

  Ann nodded. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

  Cassie nodded back. “Over dinner. We’ll tell you everything. Where do you want to go?”

  Ann frowned. “Dunno. What are you in the mood for? There’s everything you could want to eat down on University Drive. Five minute walk, ten if you want the scenic route.”

  Cassie smiled. “Let’s go somewhere it’s quiet so we can talk at the table.”

  Ann’s brows furrowed, but she said, “Okay. I know somewhere we won’t need a reservation.”

  Cassie frowned slightly. “Wait. I have an idea. When I was a student at Stanford, I had a favorite sushi bar in San Mateo. Sushi Sam’s Edomata. It’ll be well worth the half-hour car ride. I know it’s still there, on Third Avenue near B Street. Let’s go there.”

  Ann said okay, but she was sure that Cassie wanted to start their marathon conversation in the car
. She sighed and nodded. This is going to be torture for sure.

  * * *

  Ann noted the large black limo with a chauffeur holding the door open. “So much for being inconspicuous. I thought you guys were spies.”

  Cassie said, “This is a vacation for Lee and me.”

  She climbed into the back between Lee and Cassie, even more sure now that any conversation would turn into an argument. She vowed to say nothing.

  As the limo headed down Camino Real, north toward San Mateo, Cassie asked Ann about her studies.

  “I’m doing well. I anticipate mostly good grades since I already have a head start on my work in computer tech, but the economics class and the psychology class you convinced me to take are much more difficult than the others. And that political science class is a first-class nightmare. Twelve textbooks for just the poli sci. I wish there were CliffsNotes for those three classes.”

  Cassie nodded and smiled. “I remember having the same problem. But I’m sure you will conquer it, just as I did.”

  The car was quiet for a while, Ann’s discomfort and expectation of Cassie asking an embarrassing question grew. Lee shifted in his seat, still quiet.

  Then Cassie asked, “Did Avram contact you?”

  Ann sighed. “You already know he did.”

  “What did he tell you about the assignment?”

  Ann took a deep breath, giving her time to organize her thoughts. “General Shimmel”—she pronounced “general” with a hard “g”—“ordered me to assist covert operative Sommers when he needs hacker support. I’m not to insert myself into any kinetic operation, and I am not to take time away from my studies if my grades might suffer.”

  Cassie nodded. “Good. Good. And we’ll be here if this becomes a time burden for you or if there are kinetic consequences.”

  Ann stared at Cassie. “Right.” She was about to say something more, but she hesitated.

  The limo slowed and stopped. Cassie looked out the window. “Wow, how San Mateo has changed. Well, we’re here. It’s five-oh-two, so Sushi Sam’s Edomata has been open for less than two minutes. We won’t have to wait to be seated. Let’s get inside.”

  Ann followed her mom and dad into a moderately large and aging sushi bar. The owner, Sam, was a man in his early fifties. He stood with two younger men beside him behind the counter in the nearly empty restaurant. They all wore white robes with black ties around their waists, and black ties around their foreheads, and they were all cutting and assembling sushi pieces. Sam looked up and said something in Japanese to Cassie, Lee, and Ann. A waiter guided them to a table.

  Cassie and Lee sat on either side of Ann. Cassie asked, “Do you have a boyfriend as yet?”

  Ann felt her face widen in shock. It took a tiny amount of time to freeze her face, but she was sure Cassie saw her expression.

  Lee coughed. “Girls, before talking let’s order some food.”

  Ann smiled at Lee. He always acted like her friend and helper. Her mother, on the other hand…

  Lee beckoned to their waiter. “I want one of your famous chili dogs. And an uni. And a scallop in mayonnaise. And nama ebi. Oh, and a ‘California Special.’ Girls?”

  Cassie ordered first, and then Ann. The waiter placed a pot of green tea on their table and left with their order,

  “Mom, how’d you find this place?”

  Cassie beamed. “Sam’s is legendary. He’s been here for over thirty years. There’s a story that when Bill Clinton was president, one of his intelligence agencies let it slip how good this place is, and Bill came here for lunch along with a Secret Service detail. Not sure if that’s true. I found out from one of the folks in my economics study group. Sam’s sushi is simply addictive.”

  The remainder of their dinner was quiet and especially tasty, and by the time they finished, Ann considered Cassie’s presence a mixed blessing.

  But on the return drive in the limo, Cassie began asking questions once more. “So, no boyfriend? I’m assuming no girlfriend, either. Is that right?”

  Ann turned her head to the window and looked out in silence. But, she caught her own reflection and saw the rage that was evident on her face. Her eyes rolled as she thought about a way to end her mother’s incessant interrogation. She smothered a grin. “Nope. He dumped me when I told him I missed a period.”

  Cassie’s eyes popped wide until she realized Ann was trying to silence her. She took a deep breath and said nothing more.

  This visit will be trouble, thought Ann. She’s gonna bug me to death.

  Chapter 10

  JFK Airport, New York, NY

  September 14, 9:26 p.m.

  Jon Sommers ended his cellphone conversation with Avram Shimmel. He was seated in the middle section of a commercial flight to SJC. The flight was about to taxi down the runway. Just enough time left to call Ann and assure her that the assignment wouldn’t compromise her studies. He punched in her cell number and she picked it up on the first ring.

  “Ann, it’s Jon Sommers. Do you have a minute?”

  “Hello Jon, I’m in a limo with my mom and dad. Whatcha got?”

  “I’m on a jet to SJC right now. Taking off in about three minutes. So I’ll arrive too late for anything tonight, but can we meet tomorrow? When will it be convenient and not take time away from your classes?”

  “Call me tomorrow in the early afternoon, after your lunch. We can meet on campus. How about the Student Union building after 2 p.m.?”

  “Consider it done.” Jon terminated the call and put his phone away as the aircraft taxied down the runway, increasing its speed by the second.

  After the aircraft lifted off the runway, he removed his notebook computer from its case and opened his scheduling software. First he keyed a series of tasks he’d need to accomplish to start the mission:

  Find a suitable startup company and offer funding in return for using them as the sacrificial goat.

  Have them contact the alleged “venture capitalist” responsible for the deaths of the covert Mossad team.

  Send proof of complicity to Avram.

  He connected to the aircraft’s internet service and used Google to search for internet startups seeking funding. To his surprise, over three thousand venture capital company names dropped out in a neat, ordered list, subcategorized by their preferred market segments and funding stage preference. But he became even more unhappy when he Googled “California Venture Capital Funds” and found well over three hundred entries just in the early stage and seed market. There were even more in the late-stage market. He couldn’t even count them all. This market is a free for all, he thought.

  * * *

  The next morning just after dawn, Ann’s alarm on her cellphone buzzed. She’d been dreaming about her last violent encounter with the CypherGhost, but in her dream, their fates were reversed and Ann was dying when the alarm buzzed.

  Time to get up, she thought, but her phone’s time was set at 7:12 a.m., eighteen minutes before the alarm was set to pound her into consciousness. It was an incoming call, not her wake-up alarm. She punched in the Accept button and put the phone to her ear.

  “Ann, it’s Jon. Sorry, but I need your help.” Jon explained the huge number of startups seeking funding.

  “Jon, give me a few seconds.” Ann walked to her tiny pantry and spooned instant coffee into a mug, then topped off the mug with hot water from the tap. She gulped it down. Then she scanned the rooms to make sure Laura was still sound asleep. “Okay. I’m alone. Is this part of the op? What is the op? How do startups play a role?”

  As Jon explained, Ann’s eyes grew wide. “Wait. Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. This is a Mossad op, not a United Nations op. And the Mossad sent some operatives looking to investigate a venture capitalist they think has been killing entrepreneurs for the rights to their products. By any chance, is the name of the VC Frank Lucessi?”

  Jon was silent for a few seconds. “I’m not quite sure. We have a video of the murders, in Sunnyvale about a week ago. The product
the Mossad gave them the specs for was a nanodevice with military weaponization potential. That’s all I have right now.”

  Ann would have to call Glen to see if his startup’s product fit the bill. “I’ll call you back soon. Bye, Jon.”

  * * *

  Daniel Strumler watched the television screen and found the polling result difficult to believe. How can I be so far behind in the polls? He shook his head in denial. He picked up a pad of paper and began listing the issues he had yet to comment on during the previous two weeks of his campaign. The intelligence agencies and their recent failures were perhaps the most important of the ones he hadn’t publicly spoken about. He sketched out a series of steps he could take to enrage the public over the misdeeds he was sure the intel community had made, even though most of the facts were drawn solely from his imagination.

  They’ve hidden the true facts of President Carl Hernandes’s illegal surveillance of the alt-right.

  They’ve falsely accused me of lying about the sources of my wealth.

  They’ve falsely attacked me for lying about my connections with the Chinese, but they failed to investigate the threat of China’s and Russia’s involvement in that rumored invasion attempt.

  The list was over twenty items long when he was finished. What to do about the CIA, the DIA, the other intelligence organizations, and the IRS that all hated him? Get rid of them! As soon as I take office.

  * * *

  Once again, Glen Sarkov sat at the head of the table in the Student Union common area. Harvey Kalinsky seemed angry. Glen looked directly at him. “Harvey, what’s bothering you? You look like you want to start a fight.”

  Harvey scanned the others at the table. Samantha Trout and Ford Bane both looked as if they were pleased at Glen’s report. So Harvey was the only one disturbed that Paul Marotta, their new corporate attorney, had saved their asses. “Yeah. Glen, I broke the law for us by hacking into that venture capitalist’s website and deleting all the references to his agreement with us. If he gets to looking around, it’ll be my ass on the line. Why didn’t you tell me you and the attorney already had the problem solved?”