Michael Savage - Abuse of Power

“That was my thought,” Max told him. “And I’m afraid this is about the best we’re gonna get out of this image.”

“So it is a bust,” Jack said. “We’ve got nothing.”

Max sighed. “Is that what I have to look forward to when I grow up? Zero optimism?”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you,” Tony said with a suggestive leer, “but you’re already grown-up.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, there are two of you.” She looked at him. “You know, you’re supposed to call a doctor if that thing lasts longer than four hours.”

Tony’s jaw dropped slightly. A man without a comeback. He wasn’t used to Max’s quick wit.

Despite himself, Jack laughed as Max gestured to the screen.

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “That may not look like much to us, but a computer looks at it differently than we do. I’m pretty sure there’s enough here for an image recognition program to find a match.”

“Pretty sure?” Jack said.

“As sure as I can be about this stuff. I took the liberty of sending a copy of this to a friend of mine, an MIT grad who has some state-of-the-art recognition software-stuff he’s developing himself-and he’s promised to e-mail me the minute he finds something.”

“So how does this software work?”

“Without pounding you over the head with a lot of technical details, it interprets the pixels as numerical data, looks for patterns and sequences, then scours the Internet and several image databases, searching for the same or similar data.”

“I think I’ll stick to boat repairs,” Tony said.

“It’s not as complicated as it sounds.”

“When I was your age, young lady, we barely had ATMs. And I still haven’t gotten used to those.”

Jack laughed again, but he knew Tony was only half kidding. It was a miracle the guy had a cell phone, considering his aversion to anything you couldn’t fix with a torque wrench.

Max was about to respond when her computer dinged and a pop-up with a winged envelope appeared on-screen.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, then clicked on the envelope and quickly scanned the e-mail. “Looks like we’re in business, gentlemen. He found a match.”

She clicked again, opening the e-mail attachment, and a new image filled the screen. Jack frowned, thinking there must be some mistake.

“This can’t be right,” he said quietly.

It was a black-and-white rendering of a lion and a unicorn flanking a coat of arms. The lion was wearing a crown.

The image was one that Jack was all too familiar with.

It was the seal of the British embassy.

Jack stared at the two images side by side-the blowup and the e-mail attachment-and the only conclusion he could draw from this was that the parking sticker had come from the local British consulate. And that raised more questions than it answered.

“How accurate is your friend’s software?” he asked.

Max gestured toward the screen. “Pretty damn accurate, I’d say.”

Tony nodded. “That’s definitely a match.”

“So whoever drives that Escalade works for the San Francisco BC?”

“Unless it was stolen,” Max said.

Jack shook his head. “I doubt it. And judging by the guy in the sunglasses, we aren’t talking about office drones.” He looked at Tony. “What do you think? Consulate security?”

“Hard to say. Could be full-on Security Services. MI6 or special ops. I trained with some of those guys in the eighties and I can tell you firsthand they mean business.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said. “Why would the Brits be involved in this?”

“Maybe these guys are freelancing, borrowed the company car,” Tony suggested.

Jack thought about this, then looked at Max. “How are your friend’s hacking skills?”

“Nonexistent,” she told him. “He’s strictly a software tech.”

“What about that guy you said you dated a few years ago? Made a living hacking college transcripts.”

“Dave Karras? Genius and loser, all rolled into one. Why do you think I dumped him?”

“You still have his number?”

It took Max a moment to realize what Jack was asking of her, and her expression soured. “Uh-uh, no way. Not gonna happen.”

“Come on, Max, I want to see what we can find out about these guys.”

She shook her head. “Forget it, Jack. I’m not contacting that freak.”

“Not even for me?”

Max turned to Tony. “You want to help me out here, stud?”

“Are you kidding?” Tony said. “I’m on his side.”

From all appearances, Dave Karras was a freak.

He came to the door wearing a ratty bathrobe and boxer shorts, with three days’ worth of stubble on his chin and unruly black hair in serious need of a shampoo and rinse.

The cramped apartment behind him was barely a step above Juanita Thomas’s, and Jack thought if he ever saw the guy on the street, he’d be carrying a cardboard sign: WILL HACK FOR FOOD.

Karras was what Max had described as a grad school dalliance, memorable for all the wrong reasons. And Jack had a difficult time picturing the two of them together.

Maybe he’d been a little more presentable back then.

“Where’s Maxie?” Karras asked, looking crestfallen when he didn’t see her standing in the hallway with them.

Max had finally agreed to set up the meet but had declined to be part of it. She’d told Jack she wasn’t interested in taking a trip down memory lane and had wished them luck.

“She sends her regards,” Jack said, then pushed his way into the apartment, Tony at his heels.

“Okay. Fair enough. Whatever.” Karras stepped aside, a small frown on his face. “Make yourself at home.”

The words were laced with mild sarcasm, but even if they’d been genuine Jack couldn’t imagine how anyone would ever manage it. This was not exactly a homey environment. There was little furniture to speak of, and the center of the room was dominated by a large, cluttered computer desk sporting three monitors, one of which was open to a Web site featuring several busty women playing topless beach volleyball.

In their brief phone conversation, Jack had learned that Karras was now making the bulk of his living hacking gambling sites and giving himself modest winnings at Texas Hold’em. Judging by Karras’s environment, Jack felt he should give himself a few more royal flushes. That, Karras explained, would raise automatic red flags. Which might explain why he’d agreed to meet with them.

Jack and Tony surveyed the room for a place to sit, but the old, deflated bean bag chairs didn’t look particularly inviting so they both opted to stand.

After closing the door behind them, Karras got straight to the point. “Max says you’ve got a job offer.”

“That’s right,” Jack said.

“My services start at two grand, cash only, and I don’t do banks, military defense, or intelligence agencies. Too much of a risk. That work for you?”

The fee was less than what Jack had been expecting, but Karras obviously wasn’t a greedy man. According to Max, he had the ability to make himself a millionaire at the stroke of a key but he avoided temptation. Why he chose to live like this was anyone’s guess.

“I think that works,” Jack said. “Although scrounging up cash at this time of night could be difficult.”

Karras shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You’re a friend of Maxie’s, I’ll trust you. I’ll even give you a discount, you get her to deliver it to me.”

No chance in hell that would ever happen, but Jack smiled and nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to.”

The prospect seemed to make Karras’s day.

“Good,” he said, crossing to the chair at his computer station. He sank into it and stabbed a key, making the porn site go away. “So what’s our target?”