“I don’t get it. Regan is beautiful and smart and funny and sweet. . . . Why that perfect woman married you, I’ll never know.”
“You’re right. She is perfect. Finding Regan was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Liam said.
Alec nodded. “Yes, I am. What about you? Aren’t you about ready to find the right woman and settle down?”
“Settle. Now, that’s the operative word. Why would I settle when I see marriages like yours and Regan’s? No, I don’t have any notions of settling down. Work keeps me moving. Besides, I’m not naive enough to think there’s another perfect woman out there.”
He let out a heavy sigh, envisioning the days of travel ahead of him. He was off to Brussels in the morning to consult on a smuggling case; then he was expected in Singapore by the end of the week, and finally back to DC before the end of the month. He knew how important the work he did for the FBI was, and he’d never been one who wanted to stay in one place long enough to put down roots, always on the move, going wherever the need arose, but lately there was a restlessness inside him, a feeling he couldn’t exactly identify.
He took another swig of the Guinness, slouched down in his chair, and stared up at the vast sky. He was interrupted from his thoughts when his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he said, “It’s the Honolulu office.”
Alec watched as Liam listened to the caller. From the frown that darkened Liam’s face, Alec surmised that whatever he was hearing wasn’t good. At the end of the call, Liam stood and looked around. “We have to find a TV.”
Alec followed him into the hotel bar. Liam went directly to the small TV that sat on the back counter, picked up the remote, and turned the channel from the baseball game that was playing. A couple of drinking patrons yelled their protests, but Liam turned up the volume and drowned them out. The news anchor finished telling a story about a local politician’s resignation and then moved on to the next report about a breakthrough in a major drug ring investigation.
“Jennifer Dawson is reporting to us live,” he said as the screen switched to a woman with a microphone. She was standing outside an apartment building.
“I’m here at the apartment where Herman Meyer has apparently been living under an assumed name for the past two years,” the inordinately enthusiastic young woman said. “A yet-to-be-identified source has told Channel 5 News that Meyer has been questioned by the FBI and is now ready to testify against his former partner and the alleged head of one of the largest drug rings in North America, Dimitri Volkov. Mr. Meyer reportedly disappeared from his home in—”
Liam switched the TV back to the baseball game and came around the bar to Alec. “So much for the element of surprise,” he said.
Alec was angry. “Only a handful of people were in on the Meyer investigation. There’s no way one of them made an announcement to the press.”
“This has happened before, and it’s no coincidence.”
Alec nodded. “Whoever is leaking information . . .”
Liam finished the thought. “It has to be coming from the inside.”
THREE
Jordan Clayborne was considered to be one of the most brilliant hackers in the business. Allison Trent was a thousand times better.
Although they shared a lot in common, there was one other big difference between the two friends. Jordan never broke the law. Allison did . . . repeatedly.
They first met at a reception for a professor who had just received a prestigious award for his contribution to the world of computer science. It was a great achievement for him and for Boston College, where Jordan was an alum and Allison still a student. Jordan sat down next to Allison at one of the tables and introduced herself, but an introduction really wasn’t necessary. Allison knew exactly who Jordan Clayborne was. She was a legend at Boston College, a trailblazer, and in Allison’s opinion a genius in the technology field. She had sold her start-up company for millions of dollars and was currently writing a series of programs that would teach beginners basic computer skills and guide them all the way to advanced software engineering. More important to Allison, Jordan had done what many believed impossible. She had put the boys in Silicon Valley on notice. She had done exactly what Allison planned to do as soon as she graduated. How could she not have been a fan?
As soon as Jordan asked Allison what her major focus was, the floodgates opened, and for the next two hours they discussed writing code. They bonded that night, and it didn’t take long at all for them to become good friends. Neither could have imagined, though, that their friendship would begin a chain of events that would ultimately change Allison’s life.
Despite their busy schedules, the two found time to meet often, usually over coffee or lunch. Other patrons of the coffeehouses or restaurants would see the two women talking excitedly and would assume the conversation was about the latest fashions or some new reality show on television. They never suspected the topic of discussion was computer programming.
Allison didn’t meet Jordan’s husband, Noah Clayborne, for several weeks. The two women generally spent their time discussing their common interest. They didn’t delve deeply into personal matters. Jordan shared the facts that she was married and her husband had a job with the government, but Allison knew little else about him. Then one weekend Jordan invited Allison to her parents’ home on Nathan’s Bay. It was there that she finally met Noah and found out he was an FBI agent. She liked him immediately. He was charming and funny and obviously very much in love with his wife. Allison saw no reason to keep her guard up.
Jordan’s parents, the Buchanans, were warm and welcoming, too, and Allison couldn’t help noticing the affection they showed each other, something she had never seen between her aunt and uncle. Over the weekend, two of Jordan’s brothers and their wives came for a visit. They treated Allison as if she were part of the family. She loved spending time with this gregarious and loving clan, especially the evenings around the dinner table when Jordan and her brothers told stories about their childhood and the pranks they would play on one another. Allison could only imagine the noise and the laughter when all seven of Jordan’s siblings were together. She envied them.
It was at dinner the first night that she discovered most members of the Buchanan family were also involved in some aspect of law enforcement. Three brothers worked for the bureau. One was a federal attorney. Even Jordan’s father was a judge. In any other situation, because of her forays into illegal activity, Allison would have made an excuse and gotten out of there as fast as she could, but the Buchanans were so much fun she ignored her vulnerability. In hindsight she realized she should have been more cautious. Yet, in her defense, she hadn’t thought anyone would have seen what was coming. All she knew was that it felt good to be with a family who liked one another and wanted to be together, not to mention the fact that she and Jordan had plenty of time to sit and talk about languages and codes, and writing programs, and bugs, and hackers.
As the weeks wore on, Allison’s crazy workload kept her from getting together with her friend as much as she would have liked, but an opportunity arose when she learned of an upcoming programming seminar. She signed up immediately. She knew she probably wasn’t going to learn anything new—that wasn’t arrogance on her part, just fact—but the presenter was Jordan, and she wanted to be supportive.
The day of the seminar arrived, and Allison spent the afternoon in the library working on a paper that was due next week. At five o’clock she closed down her laptop and reached for her coat. Checking her watch, she figured she had plenty of time to rush home and change. Jordan was speaking tonight at seven, and Allison wanted to get to the small auditorium early so she could get a good seat. Over a hundred students were attending the event. If it was like her computer science classes, the vast majority would be men—which Allison found galling. Where were all the women? She was aware that women were entering the technolo
gy fields, but the forward strides weren’t happening fast enough to suit her. She didn’t feel intimidated by the men. She could hold her own when it came to ability. It was just that she would have liked to have more women around her and not be looked at as some sort of oddity.
Her sister, Charlotte, had always seen the analytical side of Allison, but most people who had known her as a child wouldn’t have predicted she would one day be a computer geek. They claimed that her talent lay in her looks. From the time she was a toddler, complete strangers would comment on what a pretty child she was. Then, as she grew into her teenage years, she was told her slender figure and long, shapely legs made her the perfect model. One photographer announced she had the perfect face: high cheekbones; gorgeous, brilliant blue eyes; perfect complexion; and full pouting lips. She had been just a junior in high school when, while browsing in a department store with her sister, she was spotted by the store’s manager and offered a photo shoot for an ad campaign in a local magazine. She went home and asked her aunt and uncle about it, and their answer was curt and dismissive, which was precisely the reaction Allison expected. In the years she had lived with them, she had never received encouragement for anything.
Allison had been about to reject the store manager’s modeling offer when her aunt and uncle had a sudden change of heart. They had just received a large bill from an attorney who represented Will on a shoplifting charge. Realizing that the extra income she could bring into the family would help alleviate some of their financial worries, they gave their permission.
The magazine layout was a big success, and in the months that followed Allison received several offers, which she declined. She wasn’t interested in a modeling career. But when an up-and-coming Boston designer named Giovanni Donato pleaded with her, insisting that no one could wear his clothes the way she could, she gave in. He had been so kind to her during the magazine shoot she couldn’t say no. She agreed to work for him, on a limited basis, just as long as the modeling didn’t interfere with school and her long-term goals.
Because she was a minor, her guardians demanded to receive every dime Allison earned, and each check they received they immediately spent. When Giovanni got wind of what they were doing, he opened an account for Allison at his bank, increased her base salary without telling the guardians, and deposited the difference. Allison appreciated the modeling jobs and especially the way Giovanni watched out for her financially, but when a couple of years had passed and she was ready to enroll in college, she knew it was time for a change of direction. There was no doubt in her mind that she had been programmed for something other than modeling. Her future had been determined the minute her sister showed her how to turn on a computer. She couldn’t remember how old she had been at the time, but she could attest that it was love at first keystroke. Back then she was a shy, quiet girl, and people’s behavior didn’t always make sense to her, yet computers did. She couldn’t explain how it happened. Maybe her brain was a computer, she theorized. It all just clicked inside her. Working on the computer was also a wonderful escape from her relatives and the endless turmoil at home. When Allison put on her headphones, all the noise and chaos were blocked out.
With each year of college that passed, her knowledge and enthusiasm increased. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do with her laptop. Reading codes was one of her favorite pastimes. After she’d solved the problem for the residents of Sunset Gardens, breaking into supposedly impossible sites became a favorite activity. She began to expand her curiosity and her exploration. The lure of a complicated program was too enticing to pass up, and the more intricate, the better. She loved looking for bugs. These small programming errors were passages into some very sophisticated systems. She entered hundreds of sites this way, and yet she made sure no one would ever detect her presence. Aware that the bugs had the potential for making organizations and companies susceptible to destructive attacks, she took great pains to hide her tracks. Allison knew she was breaking the law by visiting protected sites, but in her defense, her intentions were purely innocent. To her, these were giant puzzles, and she was simply studying them to see how the pieces fit. She wasn’t doing anything harmful. No, she was actually being helpful. If she discovered an intrusion, she would block the hacker, and many times she removed viruses that could damage or even destroy companies. She had no trouble justifying her activities to herself, but deep down inside there was always a nagging voice warning her. If the authorities ever discovered what she was doing, she could have been in a lot of trouble.
She loved college. It allowed her to move out of her aunt and uncle’s home and into a house near the campus. Moving day was as joyful as the Christmas mornings she’d shared with Charlotte and her husband when they had lived in Boston, and it was her fervent hope that she would never have to spend another night with her aunt and uncle. Her freedom meant she could concentrate on what excited her. While most of her classmates were hanging out at local drinking establishments, she was in her room playing with code. She wasn’t completely antisocial. She had made a few friends, but most of them were interested in other pursuits and didn’t share her passion. It was nice to have a friend like Jordan who understood, and Allison was looking forward to her seminar tonight.
When she stepped out of the library, the air was frigid and damp with flurries that would soon turn into a full-blown snowstorm if the weatherman was correct with his forecast. The temperature was unseasonably low for early November. Fortunately, the house she shared with two other students was only three blocks away from the auditorium. She could cut across campus and be there in five minutes.
The house was empty when she arrived. She rushed upstairs to her bedroom and changed into skinny jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, then pulled on a thick cream-colored cable-knit sweater and reached to the back of her closet for her leather knee-high boots. They were well-worn and comfortable and would keep her toes nice and warm. Her long brown hair went up into a ponytail. Typically she wore very little makeup, the exception being when she was on a photo shoot with Giovanni. After a little mascara and lip gloss, she was ready to go. Instead of her heavy winter coat, she put on her light gray down-filled quilted vest. It had so many zipper pockets she didn’t have to carry a purse or a backpack. Her keys and pepper spray went into one pocket; her small billfold with her money and ID went into another, tissues and cell phone into a third pocket, and there were still two empty pockets for her gray leather gloves. She wrapped the matching gray scarf around her neck twice, then tied the ends the way Giovanni had shown her. She had a killer wardrobe, thanks to him. Not only had he put money aside for her, but he also insisted she take the clothes she modeled as a bonus for a job well-done.
The stairs of the old house squeaked and groaned as she ran down to the first floor. She was surprised to see her two roommates, Dan and Mark, in the living room. They looked very serious as they huddled over a stack of papers on the coffee table. She smiled as she watched them. She remembered how Charlotte had had a fit when she heard Allison was moving in with male students, but after meeting them, Charlotte realized Allison was probably safer with them watching out for her than she would have been living alone. Besides, both of the guys were in long-term relationships.
Dan Campbell was in charge of house finances. An economics major on a scholarship, he would probably graduate at the top of his class next year. When she had answered the post on the student bulletin board advertising a room for rent, it was Dan’s persistence that swayed Mark to let her move in. Dan was built like a linebacker yet didn’t play sports. His physique reminded her of a big burly bear, but he was very sweet.
Mark Strausman was a political science major who planned to go to law school. He was outgoing and friendly, and Allison liked him very much. He had just become engaged and was getting married after graduation to a girl who went to a neighboring college. When he wasn’t in class, he was participating in student government, and Allison had no doubt that someday she would be
voting for him in a state—if not a national—election.
For the first couple of months of this term, they had taken in a fourth student; however, Brett Keaton had never quite fit in with the group. While the others pitched in with chores, he was lazy and refused to pull his own weight. A computer science major, he constantly bragged about his grand plan to start a company and take it global. Someday, he vowed, he would own half of Boston. Unfortunately, there was a major weakness in his plan. His academic performance was, at best, below average. He often solicited Allison’s help when he was stuck on a project, and while she was willing to bail him out a few times, she had major doubts about his capabilities. Not to mention his aversion to hard work. The housemates were able to tolerate his rather obnoxious personality for a while, but then Mark found him sneaking into Allison’s room and snooping around her computer one night when she was gone. Mark reported the discovery to Dan, and the two decided that this was the last straw. They told Brett to pack his things and get out.
Since the three remaining housemates got along so well, they decided not to fill his room. They had managed until now, and there really wasn’t any reason to add another person. Everything quickly settled back into a calm normalcy.
“Al, do you have a minute?” Dan asked when he spotted her at the foot of the stairs.
“Sure. What’s going on?” She walked over to the sofa and sat on the arm. Seeing that the papers on the coffee table were bills, she waited for an explanation.
“Everything’s covered this month except Mark’s portion of the rent.”
“I feel like an idiot,” Mark said. “Before we threw Brett out, I never thought to check my things. I was so mad at the time I didn’t think to look at where I hide my money. He took it all. I can’t prove it, though.”