Blood Money Page 7

  “Suit yourself. I’ll see you for breakfast. By the way, are there any jogging trails around here?”

  “None nearby, but if you exit the cul-de-sac to the left you have almost a mile and a half to the first stop sign.”

  “That’ll work fine.” She looked at him with those soft emerald eyes. “I really had fun tonight. It was a wonderful evening. Sleep well, Mark.”

  “It was fun for me, too. Goodnight, Susan.” He gave her a soft peck on the cheek.

  She went off to her room and he cleaned up the glasses, wrapped up what was left of the garlic bread and disposed of the wine bottles. Mark didn’t set the security alarm because of her early run. It wasn’t worth the trouble for one night. He put on his pajamas, brushed up and went to bed. Thanks to the wine, which he had a little too much of, he went right off to sleep.

  The next morning, Sue came back from her run just as he was finishing the coffee. “Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to join you.”

  He had the greatest admiration for any woman who can “get ready” in minutes rather than hours. Sue was always that way. He didn’t have a clue as to how she could look so “drop dead gorgeous” all the time with only a few minutes at it, but she was living proof that it can be done.

  Mark got out a couple of his old “Washington, DC” mugs that he kept when they left the Pentagon. His father always enjoyed using them for his afternoon tea, claiming that he felt proud using them. He poured coffee into his mug and added two of the “adulterers”, as Sue called them, but waited on hers. He carried the mugs downstairs and placed them on a small table that he had set up next to the computer desk.

  Mark fired up the laptop, printer and auxiliary disc drive. Sue would need all three. Yesterday he had carried down the desk chair from his father’s den so that they both would be comfortable. The room was about 400 square feet, not to small and not too large. It was cool and dry all year round, which suited him. There were two Thomas Kinkade paintings, one on each wall. They had been in his father’s den. The only things that Mark moved from there. Both were birthday gifts from his mother. She bought them in Waynesville, a nearby town with dozens of antique stores. They were pictures of thatched cottages, a Kinkade trademark. His father found tranquility when he viewed them. Mark felt the same way. He thought of his mom and dad whenever he looked at them. Mark had built a shelf on the wall behind the computer desk to accommodate the GPS machine and all the “bells and whistles” he could afford to buy at the time. Since then, he added a few more “bells and whistles” to keep current. Mostly he added on hardware/software that would speed up his inquiries. The information he gathers is often voluminous, so any time he spotted something that could cut his operating time by as little as even five minutes, he immediately looked into acquiring it. The minutes add up, especially when you charge by the hour for your work. Mark knew he didn’t have to have “everything” out there. Quite often he would just link up to outside sites and “borrow” the latest technology if he needed to. Wires were everywhere; not unusual for a home office that doesn’t have fake floors and panels to hide them. To simplify things, Mark rigged up a console with input and output panels with the help of a friendly clerk at Radio Shack. He carefully marked what each plug, switch and outlet was for.

  He returned to the kitchen to pick up the carafe of coffee. Sue entered the kitchen with an armful of manila folders and several sleeves of computer discs. As usual, she looked great, even with the half-moon glasses perched at the end of her nose. They took him totally by surprise.

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

  “Usually, I don’t. I only need them when I’m using particular discs. Unfortunately, when I printed the labels, I thought I had set the print size for ‘Rockwell Extra Bold.’ Somehow I ended up with the ‘Courier New-8’ font instead. I didn’t notice it until I was already doing some other programs. One of these days, I’ll get around to reprinting the labels. It’s just that it’s a lot of trouble to set up. I also keep the glasses on hand to read the fine print on contacts, anyway. Well, I’ve got everything I’ll need. Are you ready?”

  “You bet! I just came up for the coffee. You’re all set up downstairs. Everything is on, just waiting for you to do, do, that voodoo that you do so well.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

  They went downstairs and Sue sat down by the computer desk. During the house tour the night before, Sue had insisted on checking out Mark’s equipment and communications network, not wanting any surprises. Everything had passed with flying colors.

  “Go ahead and start,” he said. “I’ll get you some coffee.” He brought over her mug and she smiled. She remembered them too.

  “Boy, that sure brings back memories. I left all that kind of stuff behind when I moved to San Diego.”

  “Well, I sort of collect mugs. I’ve got a box of them out in the garage. Mostly singles. When I visit a client’s office, they want me to take the mug with me. They claim that it’s for the advertising, but I think that they just don’t want to bother washing them.”

  Sue laughed. She had already set up two discs and was waiting for a go ahead signal on the screen. “This shouldn’t take long. What’s happening is that I’m sending out a test inquiry from the blood bank. I’m using a software program that emulates the actual service bureau in Mansfield, Ohio that is scheduled to send their daily transactions to the NRBA at nine. It’s not unusual for the service bureau to send a test record prior to main processing. Both ends get a run-through prior to the main processing. This is the record that I attached ‘LEECH’ to. In this way, I’ll pick up the current password for accessing their system. They routinely change it every hour on the half hour, so I’ll have a window from eight thirty to nine for my software to extract the financial files and attached them to the daily processing output record. I’ll be using what I call a ‘SCOOP’ protocol. It picks up an entire file while pretending to search for a single data record. In other words, it goes through the motion of being selective while it is actually being all-inclusive.”

  “I don’t have a clue as to what you just said, but I sure wish I did.”

  “Okay, here we go.” A bunch of mixed numbers and letters appeared on the laptop screen; fifteen letters and numbers. Sue carefully wrote them down. “That, my friend, is our ‘open sesame’ to the computer system of the National Rare Blood Association. I just need to take a few more minutes to encode ‘LEECH’. Then we wait for the service bureau to start their processing.”

  She placed a disc in the reader, tapped in a few numbers, and a box appeared on the screen. She keyed the fifteen-digit password in the box and hit “ENTER.” The screen went blank. She pressed a button on the side of the laptop and retrieved the updated “LEECH” disc, which she inserted in the auxiliary disc drive. “The next part is critical. I need to link up with Mansfield to synchronize their daily processing. They will be very prompt. They must adhere to the NRBA processing schedule or delay their input for at least another twenty-four hours. It is not unusual for clients to give “software support” programmers access to their processing. This is usually done for quality control purposes. It is also possible, then, through emulation, to access live processing simultaneously, without the host being aware.”

  This is exactly what Sue was intending to do. She brought up their data link at exactly one minute before nine. Her software was ready. At the right moment, all Sue had to do was press “enter” and it would be attached to the service bureau’s processing for their Blood Bank client. This run would contain donation records and requests for rare blood being transferred to the NRBA, and for blood being requested by one of their donors or affiliated hospitals. Mansfield, on behalf of their Blood Bank client, would receive a receipt record showing an updated profile of each donor and a transmission ID for the individual blood donation transfer. They would also receive an updated inventory record showing how much blood by type their client has donated year-to-date, and details about p
roposed future donation dates.

  Sue’s eyes were glued to the screen. A cursor blinked in the upper right hand corner of the screen and she hit ENTER. “There we are, the dastardly deed is done. We just linked our program to the transactions from the Mansfield service bureau. My code will be passed along undetected, and then it will separate to travel through their system to the financial database. I requested the payment records for the past twenty-four months.”

  They breathed a sigh of relief. He refreshed both coffee mugs. They sat back and waited. “How long do you think it will take before we get anything back?”

  “I really can’t be sure. Their control records indicated that they expected only six blood banks to participate today. I was hoping for a bit more. The longer the normal processing takes, the less chance of our extra processing being detected. But anyway, depending on the Associations total traffic, it could take a little more than fifty minutes. I have no idea how much other activity they may have as part of the processing run. For instance, they could be doing some housekeeping on their files before they start the actual processing on the blood banks input. I have no way of knowing that. Sue stopped for a minute to take a sip of her coffee, and then continued, “I know fifty minutes seems like a long time, Mark, but apparently their processing and firewalls are very elaborate. You already know that. Actually, they seem to be over-protected, not that that will do them any good against me. You know, I could re-program their input processing to save at least forty percent on their run times, and probably make them more secure at the same time. But I guess that isn’t very likely to happen, is it?” Sue chuckled at the thought.

  “No, I don’t think so either.”

  “I really hate to see sloppy programming, but that makes my job that much easier. But back to your question. After the file has been picked up, ‘Banana Split’ will take five to ten minutes, again, depending on traffic. I would lean towards a minimum of one hour for transaction processing. The kicker in this process is the size of the disbursement file. When I do ‘scooping,’ I get everything there is to get in the data record. I don‘t have the luxury of being selective. I’m hoping that the excess processing time won’t be so long that their internal security flags are tripped. They are not expecting any processing beyond that normally required to process the total transactions indicated by the control records. Usually they will allow a small tolerance, plus or minus up to ten percent to compensate for a variance in input/output speeds. The good part is that most systems are set up to calculate run time after all jobs are actually finished. By that time, the file records will be already gone. They will be locking the barn door after the cows have already gone.” She stopped to make some mental additions. “So, all told, I would estimate an hour to an hour and a half before we know anything for sure.”

  The waiting seemed endless to Mark. It looked like the time was going to be closer to the high end of her estimate. At twenty-five minutes past ten the laptop screen illuminated. A message flashed “YOU’VE GOT MAIL.”

  Sue turned to him. “Mark, do you want to do the honors?”

  “You mean this is it? No, I think you should. This is your moment, Sue. I’d be afraid I’d mess it up. Go ahead, bring it on in!”

  The e-mail, with attachment, was sent from Abbeville, France after having circumnavigated the globe several times. Sue took the attachment into storage and processed it through a program she had prepared earlier. It burned two disc files. The client’s assignment was complete. She handed the discs to Mark. “I think this is what your client is looking for.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least look the data over?”

  “It’s still in raw form. You said that your client is going to harvest the file. Trust me, this is what he wants.”

  “You’re right. It just seems that after all the suspense, just to have a small disc to show for it, feels strange.”

  “In my world, we sometimes get less than that. I can guarantee you that this is the real McCoy. Should we make any copies?”

  “I think we should make at least one copy of the discs for you to store for me off-site. Technically, that will be a violation of the agreement I have with my client, but under the circumstances I think it is justified. That way I can attest that I did not keep any copies in my file.”

  “That’s probably a wise decision. This is obviously an unusual project calling for unusual action. I have a very safe spot for them.”

  After the additional copies were burned, Mark placed the original discs in a special mailer already addressed in accordance with Thurston’s directive. “Let’s get this over to the post office and put this baby to bed.”

  They drove to the Centerville Post Office in her car. The lines were short for a change. He insured the package and sent it “Registered, Return Receipt Requested.” Eventually, when he received the invoice for Sue’s services and the postal receipt, he would prepare a final report and invoice Thurston Electronics for his “Consulting Services.” Then the assignment would be officially finished. Or so he thought.

  “Sue, how about we celebrate at the best steakhouse in town? We deserve to celebrate. You have the time, don‘t you?”

  “I need to get back tonight, but I could go for a nice thick sirloin and a glass of wine right about now.”

  “There’s a nice cozy restaurant right around the corner from here. Recently they opened for lunch.”

  *

  Mark deliberately prolonged the meal so he could spend more time with Susan. They lingered over the wine, ordered a crab cake appetizer, cobb salads and really thick juicy steaks that were cooked to perfection, and they topped it off with coffee and cheesecake. Mark insisted on the cheesecake to make up for the dessert he had forgotten the previous night. He would accept no excuses. Two hours later, they were back at his house. Sue gathered up her stuff and he helped her load up her car. As he put the bags in the trunk, he noticed a leather holster and handgun stuffed behind the spare tire. I wonder why she needs a gun. The business she operates shouldn’t require her to pack a gun. That’s really odd. He decided to keep his discovery to himself. It’s certainly none of my business.

  “Well Sue, I don’t know how to thank you enough. This task was insurmountable until you came along.”

  “I hope you still feel that way when you get my bill.” She gave him one of her trademark smiles, as she added, “Money sometimes changes people’s attitude about gratitude.”

  “I don’t think that could happen with us. Besides, I‘m just going to pass it on to my client.”

  “I am still going to charge you the going rate for an out-of-town job.”

  “My client won’t care. He will be very happy with our work. It’s only been a week. Remember, his guys worked on it for months.”

  Mark came around to the driver’s side. Sue was about to get into the car. She stopped and gave him a big hug and a soft kiss on the lips. She hesitated for a split second and his hopes soared, but then she slid behind the wheel, started the car and backed out of the driveway. A tremendous feeling of loss immediately came over Mark. As her tail lights disappeared from view, he was tempted to call her cell phone to ask her to come back. But he didn’t. If things are meant to work out for us, they will happen. I’ll just have to be a little more patient.

  CHAPTER 11

  At 9 a.m. a “Processing Exception” report printed out in the NRBA main computer room. This was a rare occurrence at the center, happening only once or twice a year. The last time it happened was the result of a “hacking” attempt that failed. Two teenage boys got as far as one the final processing runs before it was detected. Their computer ID was traced to an apartment in Detroit, Michigan, and they were apprehended within two hours. They had no real purpose in mind, just had time on their hands that landed them in Juvenile for a year. The time before that, an error in input records from a blood bank was the culprit. Both times, changes in processing procedures were made to prevent them from reoccurring. Of course, they were only patching individual violatio
ns. The complete overhaul of their systems security was always on the back burner. That left them vulnerable to Susan’s unique brand of skullduggery.

  The operator tore the sheet from the printer and hand carried it to the office of Paul Matheson, Director of IT, a post he had held for ten years, during which time he’d seen it all. Paul could best be described as “pudgy.” He was only five-four and weighed over 220 pounds. At his age, as the head of IT at a prestigious company, he was well-positioned career-wise. He received calls from headhunters on a regular basis, but their offers always fell way short of the total compensation package that the Association set up for him. From that perspective, he was set for life. It was not surprising, then, that Paul was totally dedicated to his job; totally absorbed in the company culture. There are some who are of the opinion that Paul lives on the company property, since he always seems to be there in spite of the 24/7 operating schedule. Actually, he is a happily married man with two teenage children. He just happens to have the gift of a sixth sense that alerts him when there is going to be a problem that requires him to be there. Today would be one of those occasions.

  He quickly scanned the report, picked up the phone and pressed three numbers. “John, this is Paul. We’ve had an infraction in this morning’s Donor Input run. I want an immediate lockdown. No one is to leave the building until this is resolved. Check with the security desk and see if we have any visitors still on the premises.” He hesitated for a moment. “I want a copy of the visitor’s log, a list of all employees in the building today and the name of anyone scheduled for work who did not show. I need it all ASAP.” John Portman is Director of Security for NRBA. He had been with them since their inception. “I’m on it, Paul. Do you think someone has broken into the system?”

  “It’s too early to tell for sure, but we are over our processing time for the transfer cycle by almost twenty-five minutes. That’s a lot of time for what should have been a short run. I don’t like the looks of this at all.”