“Let me check that name, sir.” Very brusque.
Quiet. There was nothing on the line. After thirty seconds, I thought there had been a disconnect. Finally, she answered. “He happens to be in his office and will take your call.” She sounded surprised. My guess was that no one was ever in their office. Every employee at the Department of Defense had voice mail and every employee used it. I waited about thirty seconds.
“Hello. This is Jason Riley. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Riley,” sounded like a young guy. If he was part of the problem, I was just digging us in deeper. If he was a good guy, then we were still in a lot of trouble. “This is Skip Moore and I need to tell you a story you are not going to believe.”
“I’ve heard stories like that before. Someday I’ll write a book. Go ahead, Mr. Moore. Tell me your story.”
I did. Passionately laying out a half-brained plan that had only been hatched in the last two or three hours. But it flowed. Better than when I talked to James. And I saw my best friend, my roommate, nodding enthusiastically as he picked up the unopened envelope on the table.
“Mr. Riley, stop any access to your computer system. Don’t let anyone from Synco Systems have access to your system.” James tore open the side of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper.
There was a dead silence on the other end of the line.
“Mr. Riley?”
“Mr. Moore, do you seriously think that we pass out computer codes to every vendor that we do business with?”
“I hope not.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I can tell you, there’s no one who has access to any codes. I’m not sure where you got your information, but whatever you’ve heard regarding that is nonsense.”
“Mr. Riley, have you ever heard of Chi Mak? Stole missile secrets from the government? How about the DOD employee that kept defense secrets on his home computer?”
“That was something that-”
“Oh, and finally, do you remember how many laptop computers went missing at the Rocky Flats project outside of Denver? The place where they make the bombs? I think it was four or five computers. So, Mr. Riley, don’t tell me that the United States government doesn’t just give away secrets on a regular basis. I’d say it happens a lot.”
“Mr. Moore, give me your phone number and I’ll have someone get back to you.”
I knew damned well he already had my phone number. By now he probably knew that I’d graduated from Samuel and Davidson college, that I worked for Jaystone Security, and that Em and I were dating. I was easy to track. They were all spies, every one of them.
“Mr. Moore?”
James was waving the paper in my face.
“Look, Riley, I can’t stress to you enough how serious I am. I am positive that the codes for your computers are going to be used to steal defense secrets. If you don’t take that warning seriously, we’re all going to be in some deep trouble.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moore. The department appreciates your concern. Now, if you’ll give me your phone number-”
James waved the paper in front of my face.
I said a silent prayer, and flipped the phone closed. If Riley didn’t take me seriously, we were all in a world of hurt. If he did, well, I’d been known to be wrong before.
“It’s Em.” He handed me the paper.
I saw her signature at the bottom of the sheet. My eyes drifted to the top.
Mr. Moore,
I knew that wasn’t the salutation I’d expect from her.
Your girlfriend is in our custody for the moment. We expect you to deliver the video/computer card to the following address or she will be killed. Don’t take this to the authorities. Don’t call anyone for help. You’ll hear from us by phone.
The letter was signed by Em.
“I am so sorry, pard. Whatever we need to do, I’m here.”
“Jesus, James, say a prayer.” My phone rang and I grabbed it.
“Mr. Moore?”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Well now, Mr. Moore,” I was getting very tired of the Mr. Moore crap, “with that attitude I can’t guarantee her safety for much longer.” I listened carefully to the muffled voice, trying to place it. It sounded as if someone was talking through a sweat sock.
“I’m sorry. How can I get her back?” James sat in the kitchen chair straining to hear every word from the other end of the line.
“Sandy Conroy says that you have to bring the video card.”
“Where? When?”
“Thirteen twenty-five Waterview Lane.” When I finally caught my breath, I thought it out. The locked up building. The two-story cement-block structure that had shown up on the GPS tracking device. They wanted me to deliver the card to that address. The biggest problem was, I didn’t have that card. Someone had taken it. And Em’s life was on the line. I’d been in some tough situations, but this one was the worst.
“When do you want it?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Be here in one hour, Mr. Moore. And bring Mr. Lessor with you. I’d feel better knowing where the two of you are at the same time.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Mr. Moore, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Bring the white truck.”
“Okay.”
“Not the brown one.” And he was gone.
James was leaning in, picking up the conversation. “Didn’t seem to appreciate the UPS truck diversion, did he?”
“Nope. What are we going to do, James?”
“J.J. is home.” He’d walked to the door and looked outside.
“I don’t care about J.J. We’ve got to get that card.”
“Listen, amigo. You may not agree with this, but Jim Jobs turns out to be a pretty good tech guy. Hell, he worked with nuclear bombs. Look how he took charge of your project.”
I didn’t need to be reminded.
“If we can lay this out for him, maybe he can help us.”
“Jim Jobs? Have you lost your mind?” He was already walking down to J.J.’s door.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“C losed the place down, boys. Feng comes out and says ‘everybody go home.’ And then he and the Gestapo stood there by the front door and checked everyone before we left.”
“And the cops?”
“Oh, they got all of the names and contact information.” J.J. sat on the well-worn green cloth couch, his wrinkled T-shirt proudly announcing Age and Treachery Will Win Out Every Time Over Youth and Skill. I hoped that
