David Kessler - No Way Out

Andi was sleeping in her hotel room in San Francisco, or at least trying to. It had been a sleepless night as she had tossed and turned, after yesterday’s events in court. She had been expecting to call Gene as a hostile witness, but that had all been postponed till Wednesday. So all Andi could do was worry. She had finally managed to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning. But the silent peace of her early morning slumber was not to last long. It was shattered by a heavy pounding on the door. Squinting against the dawn light, she staggered downstairs to answer, and looked through the spy-hole to see several police officers.

What on earth was going on?

“Yes?” she shouted through the door.

“FBI, ma’am! Would you mind opening the door?”

She opened the door in haste.

“Special Agent Caine Ma’am,” he said, flashing a badge in her face. “Are you Andromeda Phoenix?”

“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.

“I have a warrant for your arrest,” he said, holding out the warrant, “and another to search these premises.”

“Arrest? What’s the charge?”

“Illegally, accessing a government computer without authorization.”

“Your Honor,” said the diminutive but feisty lawyer, “my client is a man of limited means but has strong roots in this community where he has lived for twenty seven years.”

Andi was sitting with a group of other unrelated defendants in a crowded District Court, along with dozens of other defendants. She felt uncomfortable with Alex sitting next to her, yet comforted that he was there. It was embarrassing to feel that she needed his assistance, yet reassuring that he had dropped everything else he had to deal with — at a moment’s notice — to come to her aid.

There were also quite a few journalists milling around. Usually an arraignment court isn’t a particularly newsworthy venue. But some one had tipped off the press about the celebrity defendant and so there were a lot of reporters, packed in along with the usual suspects and the low-life shysters looking an easy fee — “court-house leaches,” Alex called them.

“Bail is set at fifteen hundred dollars,” said the arraignment judge. “Next!”

Andi and Alex were signaled to step forward by a bailiff. When Andi took her place before the judge, Alex went with her.

“Case 08-31-09-2346, United States versus Andromeda Phoenix,” said the clerk, rattling if off like a machine-gun. “US Code, Title 18, Part I, Chapter 47, Section 1030, Paragraph 2, Clause C, Unauthorized access to a computer used in interstate communication, one count. No priors.”

“Is the defendant represented by counsel?”

“Yes your Honor,” said Alex. “Alex Sedaka. I appear on behalf of Miss Phoenix and my client pleads Not Guilty.”

“Does the prosecution oppose bail?”

“No Your Honor. The accused has no priors and strong domestic and professional roots in the community. Therefore the prosecution does not see her as a flight risk.”

The duty prosecutor knew that she would make bail regardless. Although Andi had been living in the community for less than three months, it was now her home and she had an unblemished record.

The US Attorney in charge of the case would probably offer her a plea-bargain on the lines of probation and maybe community service — teaching computer skills to disadvantaged kids. She wasn’t really a threat to anyone. As far as he could tell she had just got overzealous trying to get information to help her client.

“Your Honor,” said Alex, “in view of the prosecution’s favorable statement, I would ask the court to release the accused on her own recognizance.”

“Any objection from the government?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“In that case the defendant is released on her own recognizance. I’ll set the pre-trial thirty days from now. Hopefully the three of you should be able to work something out by then.”

This was a coded suggestion from the judge that they should agree on a plea bargain.

Andi and Alex were led away by a bailiff to a Clerk to get the paper work sorted out. Later, a horde of news-hungry reporters swarmed around them as they left the Ronald V. Dellums Federal Building — actually two buildings nicknamed the “Madonna Buildings” because from above their pyramid-shaped roofs were vaguely reminiscent of the singer/actress’s pointy bras of the late nineteen eighties. The building, which housed, amongst other things, the Oakland Division of the US District Court, Northern California District, consisted of two 18-story towers interlinked at ground level by a three-story glass atrium and near the top by a two-story sky bridge.

Alex put a protective arm around Andi as he shepherded her through the gauntlet of reporters.

“Ms Phoenix,” asked a man, thrusting a microphone into her face, “does this case have anything to do with your defense of Elias Claymore?”

Alex turned her away without a word, shielding her from the reporter’s inquisitive eyes with his arm. A female reporter was poised on the other side, waiting to pounce.

“Ms Phoenix is it true that you logged on to the CODIS database in a desperate search for evidence to exonerate your client?”

“No comment!” snapped Alex angrily.

The female reporter pushed closer and held out her microphone close to Andi’s mouth.

“Ms Phoenix?” she persisted.

Alex pushed the microphone away.

“Ms Phoenix has no comment,” he said again, firmly.

As the barrage of questions continued, Alex forced a path through the crowd of reporters and guided Andi to Juanita’s waiting car. They got in the back and Juanita floored the pedal before Alex even had the chance to say “drive.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve finally learned the art of keeping your mouth shut,” said Alex as the car roared away from the prying eyes of the reporters.

“She’s going to pay — the fucking bitch!” said Andi.

“It’s no use getting angry now. We’ve just got to figure out who’s behind this and nail ‘em.”

“Oh I know who’s behind it all right! It’s that bitch Lannosea!”

“The person whose been sending you the eMails?”

“Of course it is! Who else could it be?”

“But do you know who that is?”

“Not yet. But I intend to find out.”

“How?”

“I think it’s one of Claymore’s victims from the past”

“What makes you think that?” asked Alex.

“The things she said… the anger… the bitterness.”

“Well if you’re right then she shouldn’t be too difficult to find. That reminds me — call David.”

“Why?”

“When I told him about your call from the courthouse he told me that had some results on some probes. He said you’d understand.”

Without another word, Andi pulled out her cell phone and pressed two keys.

“Hi Andi. Glad you made R-O-R.”

“How d’you know?”

“I heard it on the radio. Where are you now?”

“I’m in Juanita’s car, with your dad. We’re on our way back to the office.”

“I see that Lannosea has upped the ante,” he said wryly.

“It looks like it.”

“Anyway listen, you remember those probes I set up on your account? Well they’ve created a traceroute log of what happened these past few days.”

“What did you find?” she asked eagerly.

“That unauthorized access to the DNA database was done via your office Wide Area Network but it ultimately traced back to the hotel where you were staying.”

Andi froze.

“They’re doing it from the hotel?”

“It’s worse than that. I was able to get the MAC number of the computer they were doing it from.”